I arrived in Japan in 2021. A long training pipeline sent me there on a four-year contract as a naval aircrewman. Rumors spread through my class of six. When orders came, three of them were to Japan. A few guys already had wives and girlfriends stateside. One of my classmates even bumped someone else into it. My class standing wasn’t high enough to steal my way out of it. I didn’t argue when they penciled my name in. I shrugged. Four years is a long time, but I didn’t have much to lose.
They called it the ‘tip of the spear.’ China in the east, North Korea not far. Even Russians hauled their ships down from Vladivostok. Our proximity kept us busier than back in the United States. Some of my colleagues would spend decades of their naval careers in this country. Some would marry locals and even absorb the language.
I only learned to count to five, say hello and goodbye, apologize, and order beer. Instead, I tried to pass as an agreeable tourist. I picked up mannerisms, such as walking with my hands behind my back, not talking so loudly, avoiding eye contact, and keeping my broad shoulders drawn in.
My brown hair and blue eyes allowed me to opt out of the finer details of Japanese society. For example, I would never be in a cohort of half-dead salary men slouched over in their own drunk stupor, pushed onward by their bosses. You’d begin to feel bad when they’d vomit all over their pressed black business suits and suede shoes.
When work allowed me, I took a personal vacation to Kyoto. At times, the city is treated by foreigners as just a stop in a string of a multicity vacation. A few denizens grumbled about going so far as to bar vacationers from the city. Eventually, they got their wish in the form of COVID-19.
Higashiyama Ward sits off the slopes of the Higashiyama mountains. Traditional wooden homes and shops lined the winding streets, creating a sense of warm enclosure. The tiled roofs typically rose up to the second floor, aside from the Hōkan-Ji Pagoda whose ornate levels reached five stories tall and acted as a beacon for the rest of the neighborhood.
Down the street from where I was, children rolled around on scooters, and their shouts reverberated off empty streets. Women left their clothes out to dry on second-story balconies; uniformed teenagers walked to school, and owners stood idly by with their arms crossed beneath shop entrances. There was only the soft hum of motor traffic in the distance. It’s not unusual to get glances in the countryside, but this was firmly the city, and I was getting looked at more than usual.
I imagined they furrowed their brows and wondered, ‘How did you get here?’ As someone who should have been welding metal parts on an assembly line back in Detroit, I wondered the same thing.
While wandering, my eye caught green streaks that pirouetted through the air and landed in the pink of a blooming cherry blossom tree. They preened each other and squawked amongst themselves. I marveled at them as they stared back at me.
Someone long ago, let them into the country. They eventually broke out and now just exist here with the native species. I doubt tropical sunshine would feel like home to these lost pets.
A smoky trace of cologne drifted toward me. Across the narrow alley was a couple dressed in dark shades and elegant brown overcoats. They also pointed upwards to the tropical birds. They didn’t notice me trying to figure them out. I wanted to get closer.
“Bah!” I heard from behind. “Bahhh!”
I turned my head to an old lady, swatting at me like a fly. She sat alone in front of a small vendor, no bigger than a closet. Rows of shelves held assortments of cigarettes and plastic whisky bottles. I applied a sincere, “gomen nasai” and stepped out of the way. She glared at me. The couple disappeared before I could ask anything. I walked away, chuckling to myself.
I wouldn’t have another brush with the rich until the sendoff of one of my coworkers, Howard.
He had this red hair and wasn’t conventionally handsome because of his pot belly and spindly limbs. He hit it big when he started seeing Himari.
Himari had learned English stateside, which gave her a faint Californian twang. That summer they took leave down to Australia on a cruise. Not the type of cruise Midwesterners load onto in Miami; it started on a benefactor’s yacht with a dozen others.
Himari moved through a room with a studied grace that felt soft and unforced. She knew how to carry herself above foul-mouthed and rowdy sailors. On this occasion, Howard’s sendoff was also orchestrated by her.
She chose the grimy southeast tip of Yokohama. Call girls were already on the prowl. Neon lights were raised high amongst the streetlamps and endless wires crisscrossed narrow corridors. The bar was in a back alley. A modest fluorescent sign hung over the entrance with a cartoon blue-jay. I couldn’t read the kanji, but I was told that this was the place. I ducked through the narrow entrance and went down a set of stairs to the basement.
The venue was clean. All wooden furnishings mixed with an industrial edge. More than a dozen friends from work filled the room, but also amongst them curious faces that I felt like I had seen before. Slicked back hair, facial stubble. Strong perfumes or colognes.
The room was too silent for how crowded it was. Himari and Howard cleared a little space between our two groups. She took a knife and dinged it lightly on a glass, “Thank you everyone for showing up to Howard’s send-off!”
Howard stood by her side and raised a glass, almost spilling it on himself. His belch cleared his throat for a moment of sobriety, “I appreciate all of you guys for showing up! It’s been a long four years, and I’m sad to see it go – sad to see you guys go!”
He took a swig, “Working here has been the toughest. One thing after another, it just doesn’t stop. But I’m walking away with first class, and I couldn’t be happier.”
Howard’s voice turned sincere, “I’m sad to go. Really. I am. I made a lot of friends here and met even more interesting people.”
Howard pulled Himari close, “San Diego. It’s going to be a new change, but we’ll adjust.” Himari looked at him with adoring eyes.
“Anyways! Some advice for the new guys.”
He paused, “Enjoy the time that you’re here. Don’t spend it all inside, because before you know it, four years is over.”
Howard finished off his drink and slammed it on the counter behind him.
He raised his hands “Shots for everyone!” Before the applause, Howard stopped himself, “By the way, the tab is on us!”
The bar erupted in cheers. A bartender no higher than five feet came out holding up a tray of brownish liquid. She weaved through the crowd; people took one or two as she passed by.
The smell was a sharp cinnamon. I hate Fireball. For the sake of Howard and the people around me, I took one and poured it down my throat. It went down easier than it should have.
Time passed. Things got fuzzy. My mind slipped into a warm groove. Plates of appetizers were passed around and scarfed down. I stumbled into the bar counter.
“Biru! Ichi-ban, onegaishimasu”
I barely knew what it meant. The lady brought out a golden pint of alcohol that felt crisp. What was that saying? Beer before liquor? I couldn’t remember it. I drank half of it. It all sloshed around in my system regardless.
Another man hung off the bar. He looked clean in a black jacket. His hair was too long, but it suited his somber expression.
In a daze I yelled, “Hey man, what’s up!”
His back leaned against the counter. He watched the crowd. In his hand, a shallow glass of whisky. “Nothing much.” He muttered.
“You know Howard?”
He soured slightly, “Yes. I know Howard.”
“Yeah, great guy. Interesting dude.” I shouted. We both watched Howard amid a crowd cheering him on for downing another pint of alcohol in one go. The man said nothing.
I took a sip of my beer, “I’ve never seen you at work. So, where you from?” “New York. Well, my father is. My mother is from Tokyo. I stay in Los Angeles.” “How do you know Howard?” I asked.
“I don’t know Howard.” The man said flatly.
I stared at him, perplexed. If he wasn’t here for Howard, was he here for the free booze?
His glum expression changed instantly as a perfumed smell drifted by “I know Himari.”
My fellow sailors made way as she glided towards Howard with a subtle, pretty smile on her lips. She cupped Howard’s cheeks, giggling and kissing his puffy face. The man clenched his strong jaw.
“Oh wow…” I trailed off. “I don’t think I got your name?”
“Parker.” He held his hand out. I shook it and gulped down my remaining beer. The world melted even faster.
I turned to the bartender, “Una más cerveza…” Fuck. “Biru, onegaishimasu”
The bartender grabbed my empty pint and took it underneath the counter, then pushed the refill back. I returned to Parker.
“How long have you known Himari?”
“A long, long time.” Parker went distant. “We used to hang out. Every day. Especially when COVID got to Japan.”
His voice picked up, “You could walk for miles, and you’d barely see a soul. Me and Himari had the whole city to ourselves. It was nice.”
As I listened, I drank more from my pint.
“She’s…” he trailed off, “been a good friend of mine. There was this place I’d take her to. Best pancakes in the city, but they’d only serve them on Saturday.”
There was a hint of irritation, “Himari was hard to please. I don’t even think she knew what she wanted. It’s all too much, she’d say.”
He waved his hand dismissively, “Always talking about wanting something genuine. Genuine? What does that even mean? We always had what we needed.”
Parker shook his head, “Anyways. We’re good friends now.”
I replied, “Well, Howard is moving to California. So is Himari. You’re still going to see them there.”
He took a long breath and peered down to his feet, “Maybe.”
Himari made her way out of a group of people and towards the counter. Parker looked hopeful, and spoke quietly, “Himari.”
“Parker.” She acknowledged him in a voice so politely I almost expected her to curtsey. Himari breezed past and grabbed a pitcher full of beer. Parker’s posture lost three inches.
“Damn.” He muttered.
Parker downed his whisky. He then took out a pack of cigarettes and placed one in his mouth. He handed me two cigarettes for listening. With an ignition from his lighter, Parker said “I think I’m going to get out of here.”
I exchanged an earnest look and gave him a pat on the back, “Don’t let me hold you up, boss.” I waved down the bartender again, “sumimasen!”
“Biru, onegaishimasu.” I asked.
The bartender looked exhausted and replied, この馬鹿。全部なくなっちまった。
I turned my head, “Ah, what?”
She raised her arms in a X and walked away.
Parker quickly gave me a baffled look, “You guys drank everything? The alcohol-it’s all gone.”
This is the second time my squadron has emptied out everything an establishment had to offer. After we found out, they turned us loose in the city. A good half of us went home. The other half unhinged themselves in seedier environments.
I had enough and headed towards the train station. I wobbled through the street with two cigarettes in my mouth. I inhaled with my chest and puffed smoke out of my nose. I messed up the rhythm, which made me cough up phlegm. I spat out the discharge along with my two cigarettes. I stumbled up a flight of stairs when something growled from my stomach.
Oh god. Too much movement. It was November, but I felt heat, unbearable heat.
I sat down against a wall at the train station platform. My mouth watered and beads of sweat rolled down my forehead. A train pulled in and unleashed a blur of late-night bodies. Here it comes.
Disembarking salarymen glared at me as I threw up more than just phlegm in a corner. It all landed as a frothy puddle with chunks of tonight’s hors d’oeuvres. It dribbled onto my shirt and new shoes.
The relief I felt from spilling my insides allowed me to recollect the manners I was supposed to have. I groaned. It all came apart. My face went red as I looked around, but they all passed by as if I was another fixture in the station.
The first train pulled away, and another came into the empty platform. My instincts told me this one would take me home. I crawled onto a seat for the midnight train to take me away.
I woke up on my bathroom floor splayed out naked, with the shower running over me. My head felt as clogged as a pug’s airway. Throwing up again that morning helped me realize I overstayed my welcome.
My stint overseas ended in 2025. Japan opened once more and Kyoto returned to the tourists. I got stationed in San Diego after the charm of that part of the world wore off. I found myself home, but farther from it.
As I now wander the gridded streets of downtown San Diego, I often think back to those four years. I never felt a part of the culture, more so a fleeting character. Parker might have had a deeper understanding of this. His place in Japan is not why I remember him. I’m always reminded of Parker’s somber expression. Every now and then I imagine running into him, looking for a woman who doesn’t want him anymore.
***
***
The ManifestStation publishes content on various social media platforms many have sworn off. We do so for one reason: our understanding of the power of words. Our content is about what it means to be human, to be flawed, to be empathetic. In refusing to silence our writers on any platform, we also refuse to give in to those who would create an echo chamber of division, derision, and hate. Continue to follow us where you feel most comfortable, and we will continue to put the writing we believe in into the world.
***
Our friends at Corporeal Writing are reinventing the writing workshop one body at a time.
Check out their current online labs, and tell them we sent you!
***
Inaction is not an option,
Silence is not a response
See our Resources and Readings