This came a bit quicker than I thought, but it's only a partial. The little introduction on the plane I'm going to leave asit is - I don't see any
real reason to change that part. Let me know how I did on this.
I won't bother you with any of the settling in
BS. I had a nice little place, one bedroom, kitchen, bath, the works all miniaturized into Japanese scale.
I know some Japanese and it's enough to get
by. I help the neighbors with menial grunt labor when I have time and they think I'm the best thing since Commodore
Perry brought them sliced bread.
I have money; it's no big deal though. Most of it gets sunk into my tuition and my apartment. I'm lucky if I got enough left
behind to go out partying. Not my style anyhow. I hate drunkards - they remind
me way too much of just about every high school jock, band geek, and cheerleader I've ever known. I stay the hell
out of Yokosuka after seven O'clock, and if you can't understand why then I wonder why you're still bothering to read this.
Yeah, I'm just a ray of effin' sunshine, aren't
I?
I can be, really.
It's just that being in the sort of situation I'm in, the sort that most red-blooded men would kill to be in, is stressing me out so badly that I
don't think the finest marijuana would sooth my nerves. Not that I think that stuff is all that great
anyhow. And yes, I speak from experience. Tried it twice and, while it was an
interesting experience, I decided that I can do without it.
Anyhow, I guess I should back up a bit to where this story
really got started. That was when I saved the life of a man. I should have
remembered the old adage that no good deed goes unpunished.
It was a quiet day.
Nice and sunny, and just a bit chilly. Perfect September day in Kanagawa. I was
hoping to get to Chuo Park over in Yokosuka to get some pictures of Mt. Fuji before everything hazed up. I'm no
shutterbug, but sometimes I'll take time out for the oddest things.
So there I was at the station in Juban, waiting for a train,
when I noticed an old man dressed up in traditional style. I'm no expert, but it looked like he was some sort of
priest. What really got my attention was that the old man was not looking good.
He looked pale and he was sweating his brains out. And then he clutched at his chest and I mentally cursed up a streak
that would have made Old Granddaddy Conway proud of his grandson, even if he did decide against joining the Navy.
As I see him start to sway, I realize he's about to take
a header into the tracks and there's nothing I can do to stop it. Best of all, the damn train is about to get here,
heralded by those electronically synthesized musical chimes the Japanese are so fond of here (they even put them on the turn signals of their trucks for crying
out loud). No one had noticed yet, so as I saw the man fall, I made a snap decision.
Seconds before my train arrived, I jumped in, eliciting no
shortage of screams and mayhem from my platform. Meanwhile the same thing was going on at the platform the old man was
on, and in the distance I could see the other train coming. Not having enough time to be gentle, I hauled the old man up and to the ledge.
"Help me!" I practically snarled in my clumsy
Japanese. Right away, someone, a conductor, hauled the man and another gave me a helping hand on up out of the tracks
and back onto the platform. A few seconds later the train rushed by.
I wasn't really paying attention. I was just trying to get it through to them that the old man was having a heart attack and the stress of the situation probably
was not helping. Soon enough, though, they got the message and they rushed to give first aid to the old man.
I had only a moment to look into the old man's eyes
before we were whisked apart. There I saw a profound look of gratitude mixed with the pain he was
experiencing. He was thanking me for giving him his life.
There's no way I wouldn't have done it - it is never
someone else's problem.
Soon I was all but shoved inside the station master's
office and with a gesture the conductor told me something along the lines of 'sit down and don't touch anything.'
Outside it was a storm of conductors and staff wanting to know what the hell was going on in there station, as well as the transit police. But inside the office it was calm - like the eye of the typhoon. I was alone in there for
the moment. It was a bit cluttered. This was not the ultra-neat space that
Japanese were known for. This was a place of business where thousands of people passed through each day. It was going to be a bit lived in looking.
Finally, things began to quiet down a bit and the door
opened, letting some of the now-diminished noise and in came two men.
The first one wore a uniform like the conductors, only less
elaborate while maintaining a sense of superiority. He could be none other than the station master. Following him had to be whoever was in charge of the transit police
The station master was an older man, just passing out of his
middle-age. He had a bit of a hang-dog look on him, as though he was already having a bad day and it had just gotten
worse. I couldn't blame him as I'd had my share of days like that.
With a heavy sigh, he pulled out a pack of cigarettes and
silently offered one to me. I politely declined and he took one for himself and lit up.
He took a deep drag off it, held it for a second, and the let it go over our heads.
"Boy," he said in English, "You've made
my day a hard one."
Taking this in stride I shrugged. "It could have been worse."
"It could have.
My superiors don't like it when these things happen. They tend to take it out on me if I don't make an example
of someone."
"Why's that, though?" I said, clamping down on
the righteous indignation that I could feel bubbling up in my gut at the slightest hint of injustice. "How are
your conductors supposed to see every single person there?"
"They are trained professionals. It is expected of them."
I sighed at that.
"I'd say it's not fair, but that'd be pointless."
The old Station Master harrumphed at that. "You're right about that, boy. I'm supposed to ask you some questions
now. You're lucky I studied English in America. Let's start with your
name."
"Darkwood, Ezekiel."
"Darkwood is your family name?"
"Yes."
"That's very interesting," said the Station
Master.
"Why's that?" I asked, genuinely
curious.
"Have you ever read a book called Shogun? Your name reminds me of the Englishman from that book. A shame that wasn't his true name, which was Adams, I believe. If it had really been
Blackthorn I would wonder if you are some sort of distant relation."
"I've wondered about it, too, but if you'll
forgive me that is neither here nor there."
"Of course, I apologize. Age?"
"Eighteen."
The Station Master raised an appraising eyebrow at me and
shook his head. I did look incredibly young for my age.
"Home address?"
(Insert address here)
"Oh, that noisy place?"
"What do you mean?"
"This business about cute girls and ugly monsters
tearing the place up."
I blinked hard at that.
"I find that hard to believe. It's the first I've heard about it."
"Well, you're new here, yes? You'll see it soon enough. Reason for coming to Japan?"
"School and family."
"Good enough.
And now the one question everyone is going to want to know: why did you do something so stupidly brave?"
I could only shrug that this and say, "That man may be
someone's son, brother, cousin, uncle, nephew, father, and grandfather. I only have my Father. How could I be so selfish?"
"The mindset of an American put into terms that
Japanese can understand. That's pretty impressive stuff there, kid. The
press is gonna eat this shit up. Got anything else to add?"
I shrugged once more.
"Nope. Just hope that old man does okay."
The Station Master waved it off. "All our conductors have what you would call first response training and we had defibrillators and oxygen to him in no
time. The paramedics responded pretty quickly, too, so he should be fine."
"Good. Is it
possible for me to go now?"
"Of course.
This was all just a formality so we have something for the records."
With that, we both got up and I was shown the way out the
offices, but not before we bowed to each other. The place was back to normal, but the conductors all looked at me
furtively, and I somehow felt drained.
So much for a
nice day outside, I thought as I turned and trudged back home.
real reason to change that part. Let me know how I did on this.
I won't bother you with any of the settling in
BS. I had a nice little place, one bedroom, kitchen, bath, the works all miniaturized into Japanese scale.
I know some Japanese and it's enough to get
by. I help the neighbors with menial grunt labor when I have time and they think I'm the best thing since Commodore
Perry brought them sliced bread.
I have money; it's no big deal though. Most of it gets sunk into my tuition and my apartment. I'm lucky if I got enough left
behind to go out partying. Not my style anyhow. I hate drunkards - they remind
me way too much of just about every high school jock, band geek, and cheerleader I've ever known. I stay the hell
out of Yokosuka after seven O'clock, and if you can't understand why then I wonder why you're still bothering to read this.
Yeah, I'm just a ray of effin' sunshine, aren't
I?
I can be, really.
It's just that being in the sort of situation I'm in, the sort that most red-blooded men would kill to be in, is stressing me out so badly that I
don't think the finest marijuana would sooth my nerves. Not that I think that stuff is all that great
anyhow. And yes, I speak from experience. Tried it twice and, while it was an
interesting experience, I decided that I can do without it.
Anyhow, I guess I should back up a bit to where this story
really got started. That was when I saved the life of a man. I should have
remembered the old adage that no good deed goes unpunished.
It was a quiet day.
Nice and sunny, and just a bit chilly. Perfect September day in Kanagawa. I was
hoping to get to Chuo Park over in Yokosuka to get some pictures of Mt. Fuji before everything hazed up. I'm no
shutterbug, but sometimes I'll take time out for the oddest things.
So there I was at the station in Juban, waiting for a train,
when I noticed an old man dressed up in traditional style. I'm no expert, but it looked like he was some sort of
priest. What really got my attention was that the old man was not looking good.
He looked pale and he was sweating his brains out. And then he clutched at his chest and I mentally cursed up a streak
that would have made Old Granddaddy Conway proud of his grandson, even if he did decide against joining the Navy.
As I see him start to sway, I realize he's about to take
a header into the tracks and there's nothing I can do to stop it. Best of all, the damn train is about to get here,
heralded by those electronically synthesized musical chimes the Japanese are so fond of here (they even put them on the turn signals of their trucks for crying
out loud). No one had noticed yet, so as I saw the man fall, I made a snap decision.
Seconds before my train arrived, I jumped in, eliciting no
shortage of screams and mayhem from my platform. Meanwhile the same thing was going on at the platform the old man was
on, and in the distance I could see the other train coming. Not having enough time to be gentle, I hauled the old man up and to the ledge.
"Help me!" I practically snarled in my clumsy
Japanese. Right away, someone, a conductor, hauled the man and another gave me a helping hand on up out of the tracks
and back onto the platform. A few seconds later the train rushed by.
I wasn't really paying attention. I was just trying to get it through to them that the old man was having a heart attack and the stress of the situation probably
was not helping. Soon enough, though, they got the message and they rushed to give first aid to the old man.
I had only a moment to look into the old man's eyes
before we were whisked apart. There I saw a profound look of gratitude mixed with the pain he was
experiencing. He was thanking me for giving him his life.
There's no way I wouldn't have done it - it is never
someone else's problem.
Soon I was all but shoved inside the station master's
office and with a gesture the conductor told me something along the lines of 'sit down and don't touch anything.'
Outside it was a storm of conductors and staff wanting to know what the hell was going on in there station, as well as the transit police. But inside the office it was calm - like the eye of the typhoon. I was alone in there for
the moment. It was a bit cluttered. This was not the ultra-neat space that
Japanese were known for. This was a place of business where thousands of people passed through each day. It was going to be a bit lived in looking.
Finally, things began to quiet down a bit and the door
opened, letting some of the now-diminished noise and in came two men.
The first one wore a uniform like the conductors, only less
elaborate while maintaining a sense of superiority. He could be none other than the station master. Following him had to be whoever was in charge of the transit police
The station master was an older man, just passing out of his
middle-age. He had a bit of a hang-dog look on him, as though he was already having a bad day and it had just gotten
worse. I couldn't blame him as I'd had my share of days like that.
With a heavy sigh, he pulled out a pack of cigarettes and
silently offered one to me. I politely declined and he took one for himself and lit up.
He took a deep drag off it, held it for a second, and the let it go over our heads.
"Boy," he said in English, "You've made
my day a hard one."
Taking this in stride I shrugged. "It could have been worse."
"It could have.
My superiors don't like it when these things happen. They tend to take it out on me if I don't make an example
of someone."
"Why's that, though?" I said, clamping down on
the righteous indignation that I could feel bubbling up in my gut at the slightest hint of injustice. "How are
your conductors supposed to see every single person there?"
"They are trained professionals. It is expected of them."
I sighed at that.
"I'd say it's not fair, but that'd be pointless."
The old Station Master harrumphed at that. "You're right about that, boy. I'm supposed to ask you some questions
now. You're lucky I studied English in America. Let's start with your
name."
"Darkwood, Ezekiel."
"Darkwood is your family name?"
"Yes."
"That's very interesting," said the Station
Master.
"Why's that?" I asked, genuinely
curious.
"Have you ever read a book called Shogun? Your name reminds me of the Englishman from that book. A shame that wasn't his true name, which was Adams, I believe. If it had really been
Blackthorn I would wonder if you are some sort of distant relation."
"I've wondered about it, too, but if you'll
forgive me that is neither here nor there."
"Of course, I apologize. Age?"
"Eighteen."
The Station Master raised an appraising eyebrow at me and
shook his head. I did look incredibly young for my age.
"Home address?"
(Insert address here)
"Oh, that noisy place?"
"What do you mean?"
"This business about cute girls and ugly monsters
tearing the place up."
I blinked hard at that.
"I find that hard to believe. It's the first I've heard about it."
"Well, you're new here, yes? You'll see it soon enough. Reason for coming to Japan?"
"School and family."
"Good enough.
And now the one question everyone is going to want to know: why did you do something so stupidly brave?"
I could only shrug that this and say, "That man may be
someone's son, brother, cousin, uncle, nephew, father, and grandfather. I only have my Father. How could I be so selfish?"
"The mindset of an American put into terms that
Japanese can understand. That's pretty impressive stuff there, kid. The
press is gonna eat this shit up. Got anything else to add?"
I shrugged once more.
"Nope. Just hope that old man does okay."
The Station Master waved it off. "All our conductors have what you would call first response training and we had defibrillators and oxygen to him in no
time. The paramedics responded pretty quickly, too, so he should be fine."
"Good. Is it
possible for me to go now?"
"Of course.
This was all just a formality so we have something for the records."
With that, we both got up and I was shown the way out the
offices, but not before we bowed to each other. The place was back to normal, but the conductors all looked at me
furtively, and I somehow felt drained.
So much for a
nice day outside, I thought as I turned and trudged back home.