|
|
Post by ren on May 24, 2013 17:53:57 GMT -8
It hadn't even been half a year year yet. More like three or four months, if she had to take a guess. But if felt like just yesterday when Josie and her roommate had promised each other that they were never eating Japanese food again; not until they actually went back to Japan, anyway. This was a time that they would take advantage of the availability of good old American food. Sure, Japan had burgers and fried chicken and such, but it wasn't the same. You couldn't taste the cholesterol in Japan. No, food made in the United States of America had its own charm, and she had missed it terribly.
Or so she had thought. But it wasn't long before she merely ran out of things to eat. She, and her roommate, soon began to crave for the food they swore they wouldn't eat their entire stay in America. It got to the point where she couldn't even bring herself to eat anything else. So she and Emily had made plans to go out to dinner, and she had been so excited that she had practically been skipping through the day. It would have been a sin for the food found in Little Tokyo to taste bad, so she expected great things.
And then Emily called, saying she had to work late. It was an "emergency" she had said, though Josie didn't know what kind of emergencies a part time Japanese teacher had. And if that hadn't made her bitter enough, the older girl's demands that Josie go grocery shopping and actually cook dinner were enough to put her in an extremely sour mood. It was less that she didn't want to cook--though she really didn't want to, being the awful chef that she was--and more that Emily was making her go to a Japanese market. With Japanese speaking old men or women. Which made her extremely nervous. She could deal with kids, and teenagers even. It was the grandmas and grandpas she couldn't do. Even if they were sweet, she felt like they were judging her. (Even if they weren't.)
Thankfully, here she didn't have to know Japanese. Little white girl walks in? No big deal. All she had to do is go in, get what she needed, then get back home and get started on dinner. (And hopefully Emily would be back and she could cook.)
Unfortunately, it wasn't quite that easy. She easily got distracted by the assortment of candy and snack foods, and it was quite a while before she moved away to find the actual food. (And she had to sort through all the "junk" she had gotten, trying to decide what she really needed, since Emily would fuss at her about their budget.)
It was a lot of fun, though, listening in on the various little conversations going on about her. It was also a lot of fun browsing through familiar foods that she had missed so much since the move. She was so entranced, that she very nearly ran into someone.
[/justify][/size] May 5, 2012
5:00 [/b] |
|
|
|
Post by KEIJIRO WATANABE on May 25, 2013 21:10:09 GMT -8
tagged: josie. time: may 5th, 5pm. notes: none. Keijiro really could not cook. It wasn't a skill he'd had to cultivate. He'd always had home cooked meals, always been treated to the very best cooking. His mother had been a chef--proverbially, if not literally.
Sadly, she really hadn't passed her cooking chops onto Keijiro. Neither had ever found the time for that sort of cooking. He'd lived at home until his departure for LA, but he'd been extremely busy with all his practicing, performances, and recording sessions. He had learned to cook some, but moving to LA had certainly been a crash course. He'd pulled up recipes, taught himself to make things, and rapidly found out that most of his favorites were damn near impossible to recreate with food from the average American supermarket.
Which meant a trip to Little Tokyo. In the long run he'd decided he preferred shopping in Little Tokyo to shopping elsewhere. In Little Tokyo everyone assumed he was a tourist until he spoke, and then while they were confused, no one was terribly open about it. Elsewhere, everyone assumed he was normal until he spoke, and then the confusion came out.
He'd rather it go away then any of the other options.
With baggy jeans and a hoodie with the hood flipped up, he didn't look terribly out of place. It was only under close inspection that his ethnicity became apparent, and even that normally wasn't as much of a surprise as his scar was. The scar covered most of his face, and looking him in the eyes, there was no way around it. As much as he hated people looking at it, he wasn't rude enough to not look them in the eyes. He wasn't going to just ignore them.
With a basket under one arm, Keijiro beelined for the vegetables, looking for some daikon in particular. Halfway there he spotted something out of place, and after a moment of squinting, confirmed that he was right--yep, she was definitely blond. Very blond.
A tourist? In a Japanese market? It wasn't as if it was the sort of place the average tourist went. His eyebrows went up slightly. How the hell was she even managing? By sight? All the tags seemed to be in Japanese, and it wasn't as if most of the foods were going to be familiar to her.
Well, it really wouldn't do to just hang back, now would it. No, if she was in need of help, he was more or less honor bound to help her out. He was fairly sure no one else would--no one would want to risk insulting her.
Stepping forward, Keijiro cleared his throat.
"Did you find everything?" All things considered, he probably sounded like he worked there, an illusion firmly broken by his clothes. |
|
|
|
Post by ren on May 26, 2013 7:24:48 GMT -8
A voice came from somewhere behind her, and while it sounded helpful she couldn't help the way her shoulders stiffened. Someone actually approaching her in this kind of place was the last thing she expected, and quite honestly the all-to-familiar accent made her extremely nervous--even if he was speaking English. She slowly turned around, prepared to bow and make her greeting, but she stopped herself when she noticed that the person speaking to her wasn't Japanese at all. Or, well, he didn't really look Japanese, because she was fairly sure that was blond hair he was hiding under that hood of his. Though she almost didn't notice it, because he had a pretty nasty scar on his face. She blinked, idly wondering about what happened before her brain moved on to a much more pressing matter: this guy was most definitely Caucasian. And she was one hundred percent positive that today was not the day that she had lost her mind, and she had heard an accent.
He must have lived in Japan at one point. Or maybe he grew up in Little Tokyo? Could one develop an accent from just this area of LA? The only accent she had ever had was her southern one, and none of the people she had met at the mission had developed an accent while living in Japan. This was an interesting kid, she thought. But she didn't really have time to ask about his life story. She had to worry about dinner.
"Not quite," she replied with a little smile, holding her basket up. She gave a sheepish little laugh. "I got distracted by candy, so..." Yeah, way to act like the adult she was around this kid. (Who, upon second glance, probably wasn't that much younger than her anyway.) "I was thinking about getting some tuna, because some ladies were talking about it over there...dunno where they saw that, though." A not so very subtle do you know where it is? Because she had checked where the pair of women were talking, and there was no fish there.
She had to get some rice, too, though she couldn't remember if they had a pot to boil it in or not. And she wanted to make some soup. She didn't really know how to make it, having never had to cook Japanese food before, but she figured miso soup couldn't be that hard. There was probably a can of it somewhere. She just had to look a little harder.
...perhaps she should have just gone out to eat, and grabbed a to-go box for Emily.
[/justify][/size] |
|
|
|
Post by KEIJIRO WATANABE on May 26, 2013 7:54:48 GMT -8
tagged: josie. time: may 5th, 5pm. notes: none. How old was she? Keijiro wasn't particularly good at working out ages, but if he had to guess, maybe a year or two older then him? She looked like the upper years he'd seen when he toured his new university, which wouldn't make her that much older then he was. She certainly wasn't an old woman, by any means.
She seemed pretty nice... except for the Tuna. Really? She'd come all the way out to a Japanese market for tuna? He didn't begrudge her the sweets, even if his own sweet tooth was tiny, but he was having a small moment over the Tuna. You could get tuna almost anywhere. Unless she was looking for the expensive stuff? Picking through his brain, he simply went with what he thought an American would most likely be looking for.
"If you mean maguro for Sushi--" Because there was no way he was counting a crappy tin of tuna in the same section as good raw maguro--"Then it's over there." He pointed back the way he'd come from. It wasn't as if he knew the market very well, but he'd seen it on his way in.
Sushi, after all, wasn't entirely out of his reach. Sushi itself was easy to make. Anyone could really make a good, restaurant quality piece of sushi (or at least an American restaurant equivalent). It just wouldn't be very pretty, and getting the ingredients was a bit of a challenge.
He'd already picked up a set of knives and a rice mat. He already had all the other stuff required to deal with the rice side of things, which really just left the nori and the fish. He already had a stack of nori in his basket, which really just left the fish.
"I'll show you if you want. I'm picking some up myself."
|
|
|
|
Post by ren on May 26, 2013 15:38:23 GMT -8
She brightened up considerably as he spoke. "Fabulous! Thanks~" she replied, nearly skipping off in the direction he pointed out. "Negitorodon~" she sang out, practically beaming as she finally decided what she would cook. Blair used to make it all the time, so she was pretty sure that one of them would be able to recreate it. She'd just text Emily to get her to pick up green unions and soy sauce on her way home. Dinner would be so wonderful. She was even willing to spend a little extra on the tuna, because she was so excited. In fact, she had to keep herself from drooling at the thought of it.
She got to the fish, her smile slowly fading away into a worried frown. "Toro...toro...toro..." She could identify the tuna, but she didn't know which one was toro. Though, it probably didn't make much of a difference if she just used regular maguro, did it? Or did it? She was pretty sure it did, since Blair never used anything else. But didn't most tuna taste the same? But, then again, the dish was called negitoro, so one needed to use toro, right? But what was the difference between maguro and toro anyway? They were both tuna, right? She let out a little whine to herself. "Japaneeeeeese," she wailed.
Someday everything would click. But today was not that day. One didn't just learn Japanese in a year anyway.
Or two.
But wait! That guy was coming over this way too, wasn't he? She whirled around to try and find him, grinning once more once she spotted him. "Hey sweet heart! I need one more thing!" she said, hoping to catch his attention. He seemed to be the Japanese Master, or whatever, so he'd probably give her a funny look. But funny looks didn't bother her in high school, and they weren't going to now.
[/justify][/size] |
|
|
|
Post by KEIJIRO WATANABE on May 26, 2013 16:02:57 GMT -8
tagged: josie. time: may 5th, 5pm. notes: none. Negitoro don? He paused, eyeing at her as they moved over. That was a fairly specific dish. Maguro on a ricebowl. Not his favorite, but he'd certainly had it a few times. He supposed it wasn't really his business though. Maybe she was a chef? That would explain it. Chefs making foreign dishes would often go well out of their way to get specific ingredients, and that would certainly explain coming to a small foreign market. He had largely wandered away, checking at ingredients when she called him back, having entirely missed her little whine of 'Japanese'.
He didn't give her a funny look, but he did give her a look, perhaps a tiny bit confused. He didn't work there, but she was probably just having trouble reading the tags, wasn't she? Japanese, he was well aware, could be a confusing language to begin with. Even he didn't know all the Kanji, although he certainly knew all the ones that were used commonly. Every so often he'd find one he had no idea about, and it always left him a bit annoyed.
He turned lightly, giving her a little half bow. Sweet heart had to be an American thing, didn't it? She had some kind of accent anyway. South? He had no idea what constituted 'south' in America, and was really going based on a few random movies and TV shows that had portrayed the accent. This was a lot less thick then that though.
"What is it?" |
|
|
|
Post by ren on May 26, 2013 20:10:15 GMT -8
The little bow made her heart hurt with thoughts of "home", and she almost expected him to call her Teacher and ask her where today's music was from. That was really silly, though, because he definitely wasn't one of her students. She did give a little bob of her head out respect, the way she usually responded to her kids. She then moved a little closer to him, so that she wouldn't catch the attention of any of the few other people in the store. "This is gonna sound silly," she started, sending a little glance back toward the fish, just in case the answer to her question had suddenly become obvious. When it hadn't, she looked back to him and continued. "But what's the difference between maguro and toro?" There had to be some kind of difference, because there were two different names. But she didn't have a clue what it was.
She paused, her curiosity eating at her the longer she looked at this guy. To her knowledge, there were only a couple of theories for his accent, and his greater knowledge of everything Japanese, and the majority of those led to him having lived in Japan for a while--and at a very young age, at that. And there was a huge possibility that he grew up in the same kind of environment she had been introduced to. Or a similar one.
Though, there really wasn't a not-creepy way to start that kind of conversation. She gave a little huff, not entirely sure how to go about doing this. Normally, it was polite to talk about oneself first before digging into someone else's business; maybe start with a oh I haven't been studying Japanese long or an I've never had to cook Japanese food before, which would eventually lead to a how about you? But that seemed corny and she didn't want to do that. And while she was about eighty percent sure she was right, she didn't want to just out right ask how long did you live in Japan? On that off chance she was wrong. (That happened on occasion.)
But there were plenty of other safe topics.
"Are you a student?" she asked, noticing a couple of other things she really wanted and quickly grabbing them to put in her basket.
[/justify][/size] |
|
|
|
Post by KEIJIRO WATANABE on May 27, 2013 12:12:27 GMT -8
tagged: josie. time: may 5th, 5pm. notes: none. What was th- oh! That explained her confusion. Proper sushi fish had about twenty different names and specifications. Did you talk about what kind of fish, what part of the fish, if it was being used in Sushi or something else... there were a whole lot of details, and he imagined it was probably a linguistic labyrinth for someone who hadn't been raised on the stuff. How was he going to explain it? Hopefully as clearly as possible.
"Maguro is just Tuna. Bluefin tuna, and ahi is Yellowfin." Don't ask him to know the differences--he only knew based on what he'd been sold, and what he'd seen cooked. "Toro is the fatty belly. Ōtoro is the fattiest part of the belly as well, and sometimes you'll see that mentioned. They're the best parts for eating, so they generally sell for the most." He paused, scanning the meat case before pointing some out. "It's all maguro, but just different kinds. Like.." He halted, unable to remember. He knew there were English terms for different parts of a chicken, but he really couldn't remember any of the words. Wings or something? Only he didn't want to say it and embarrass himself by being very, very wrong, so he reached out, picking out a pack of meat for himself to cook with. No point in ignoring it.
Her second question caught him slightly off guard--it was a bit more personal, but then she hadn't flinched away, so he was feeling slightly more jovial then usual.
"Yes. Sort of. I'm going to be attending USC in the fall." He gave a little nod at that, mostly to himself. USC. Right. That was the name, even if he kept mixing it up. "For music. I hear their program was very good." Which he fully expected the woman to know, assuming her a local. |
|
|
|
Post by ren on May 27, 2013 18:59:40 GMT -8
Of course it cost more than the others. She could have cried. She should have known that her senior had expensive tastes--a disastrous thing for a missionary. Oh well, she would just have to settle for the regular stuff, as upsetting as it was. Maybe someday she'd get a really nice tip and could afford to buy more expensive fish. Better yet, she'd go to a really nice restaurant and order something expensive. (Perhaps her own tastes were too nice for her chosen career as well?) "Maybe next time," she muttered, deciding just to get the standard maguro. "Ah, thanks...nobody ever let me cook, so I had no clue what the difference was..." She hadn't planned on adding that last bit, but it spilled out before she could think about it. But she stored the information away and was going to make a note of it, so that she wouldn't forget next time.
He took to her transition well, which she was happy about because she was really starting to like this kid. She made an impressed sound and looked back at him, looking extremely interested. "Music, huh? What kind?" Because a music major consisted of many, many different things. She didn't actually know that much about USC, having never lived in this half of the United States before. But she was willing to take his word for it, and acted as though she knew it to be true.
When she had actually attended college, she didn't have high opinions of music majors. They were usually a little snotty. But considering that music is heavily involved in her current--well, sort of current--job, she has a higher respect for the people who chose to study it. She may have been in her high school band, but that only seemed to scratch the surface. Music was practically another language altogether, and she would never be able to understand it. But she knew enough to appreciate it.
[/justify][/size] |
|
|
|
Post by KEIJIRO WATANABE on May 28, 2013 17:08:39 GMT -8
tagged: josie. time: may 5th, 5pm. notes: none. Keijiro was vaguely impressed she had thought to ask which kind. Most people just accepted 'music' and moved on. Most didn't think of the different kinds, the different variety of degrees as well as the different kinds of instruments. He gave an appreciative little smile before answering her. "Musical performance, for the strings. I play the koto and the shamisen primarily." He really wasn't expecting her to have known about either. Both were Japan-specific instruments that were rarely seen outside the country. It was what put him in such high demand--American culture seemed to love Japanese culture, but they had minimal exposure to certain elements of it.
Any sort of period piece wanted 'authentic' music. Any game, any movie, any CD. There was so much demand for it that it had seemed an obvious choice, even if a little bit ironic. He had learned to play music to play it to people who wound understand all the history behind it, and yet instead he was playing for people with no real understanding of the importance of the koto in Japanese culture.
There simply wasn't a lot of demand for Japanese music in Japan. Everyone had gone running for American music, and for some bizarre reason, American's had gone running for Japanese music.
It was a strange inversion. |
|
|
|
Post by ren on May 29, 2013 16:49:34 GMT -8
Okay, she wasn't even going to pretend that she knew what a shamisen was. Whatever it was, it sounded really silly. But she knew what a koto was, and was very proud that she remembered it. More importantly, it only confirmed the fact that this guy was way more Japanese than he looked. And that kept her smiling. "Aaah I know the koto. One of my kids plays it." She faltered, making an awkward little face before correcting herself. "My students, I mean." She wasn't even close to old enough to have a child, or not one old enough to play the koto anyway. But she remembered one of the children playing it for one of the pieces they performed. It was a really cool instrument, though. She thought so, anyway.
"Koto...did you learn how to play it in Japan?" she asked, finally getting to the point she wanted to make. This kid had most definitely spent time in Japan; one couldn't just fake that accent, not one as heavy as his. Though it would be really awkward if he was just some wonder boy who can do accents very well. It wasn't like she'd see him again anyway, so it didn't matter if she was completely off the mark. But if he was just some big fan of Japan, he sure had done a hell of a lot of research.
She glanced into her basket, wondering if she wanted to return some of her junk food so she could buy toro. But she really loved candy...but she could always just steal candy from her coworker. (Who happened to have a bigger sweet tooth than anybody she had ever met.) It wasn't Japanese candy, but it wasn't like Japanese candy was extraordinarily better than American candy or anything. She would have to think on it a little longer.
[/justify][/size] |
|
|
|
Post by KEIJIRO WATANABE on May 30, 2013 13:15:44 GMT -8
tagged: josie. time: may 5th, 5pm. notes: none. Her kids? The surprise almost certainly showed on his face, eyes widening. She couldn't have been more then a year or two older then him. Sure, she could have a kid, but having more then one? She seemed terribly, horribly yo- wait, oh, students.
Well, that sure helped things. She was a teacher then? Only she seemed young for that too. But there were other professions that were similar. Daycare worker, only - wait, had she actually said they played the koto?
His mind seemed to rubberband, finally catching onto what she'd said in the first place. He'd learned to play the koto? but her students? He hesitated, wanting a clarification, but perhaps a bit too awkward to ask.
"Yes, I learned to play in Japan." Suddenly he was paranoid for a much different reason. Was the whole thing just a way of--well, of checking if he was putting the accent on? It wouldn't be the first time it had happened, and after a moment he decided to just cut through the pretense. "I was raised there." Not born there, technically, but that was a matter of months.
"Did you teach in Japan then?" That would make sense--she was obviously not Japanese, but seemed to know some, and she seemed interested. |
|
|
|
Post by ren on May 31, 2013 9:08:12 GMT -8
She nodded once, looking very proud of herself. "That's what I thought~" she declared in a sing-song voice, giving him a little wink. "But I had to make sure, y'know? It would have been really embarrassing if I just started asking about Japan but had you completely wrong." She shrugged, mumbling a little "even though I was pretty sure..." It didn't matter now, though! She felt ten times more comfortable knowing that this kid could kind of understand how she felt. Well, sort of. Excluding the whole problem she had with actually learning Japanese. Since he was raised there, he probably picked it up pretty quickly--that she was a bit bitter about, but it wasn't really his fault considering little kids don't decide where they're raised.
She made a little face, looking a little sheepish now that he was asking about her. "Kind of..." she bit her lip, pondering how to phrase it for a moment. "I was more of an intern at this choral program...so I'm not a real teacher or anything..." She didn't have a degree, nor did she really have any intentions of going back to school. (Though she had thought of it a few times while she was in Japan; a degree in psychology sounded like a really good idea, but then she remembered how utterly horrible she was at the whole school thing.)
Josie really didn't like talking about herself, though. She quickly moved on, brightening up again with a quick "What part of Japan are you from?" She gave a little laugh, though it was more at her own expense than any kind of humor. "I don't actually know a lot about the geography, but I lived in Nagoya for a little over a year, so was it anywhere near that?"
[/justify][/size] |
|
|
|
Post by KEIJIRO WATANABE on May 31, 2013 21:31:01 GMT -8
tagged: josie. time: may 5th, 5pm. notes: none. Keijiro had learned English and Japanese concurrently, and he'd spoken both as a young child. Really, he'd spoken Japanese more then English even as a child, his parents having been quite intent on making sure he didn't fall behind. They hadn't wanted him to be odd or out of place, so they'd focused on Japanese first and English second. It had been to such a degree that his accent was pure Japanese. Really, the only major difference it had made in his life was the fact that he'd done extremely well in English classes.
A choral program? It took him a moment to remember what 'Choral' was. Chorus, right. Music. Singing, in particular--a kind of music that had always (or almost always) been off limit to him. Even if he might have been able to sing once upon a time, his reduced lung capacity meant it was no longer an option. He couldn't sing. He couldn't hold a note without his breath getting shorter and shorter, and he found himself gasping for air any time he tried.
No, it would never be an option.
"Do you sing yourself then?" But he still enjoyed listening, just the same. He loved the patterns that human voices gave, unique and different from instruments. They were a section all their own.
"From Tokyo." Not technically Tokyo, but right on the outskirts. Unless she was from Tokyo directly, she probably wouldn't care about the specific district he was from, now would she? |
|
|
|
Post by ren on Jun 3, 2013 16:05:19 GMT -8
Did she sing? Not really. Well, anyone could sing, technically. But she wasn't especially good at it--it wasn't like she would be winning American Idol any time soon. She didn't think she was horrible, though. It wasn't like she'd break his eardrums or anything. She shrugged, giving a little laugh. "I can read music, but I'm not really a singer." She put one hand on her hip, pretending to look really irritated. "Whenever I do try to sing, the kids are all like Teacher, no singing, but I don't think I'm that bad." Though she was mocking her students, there was a hint of affection laced in her words. "But like I said, I can read music. That's about all I contribute so far." Oh, she also acts as the test subject for the kids--apparently, giving the foreigner strange Japanese foods was really funny.
Okay, at the very least she knew where Tokyo was. "Oh, not very close at all! Oh well." It wasn't like she would have seen him anyway. She probably would have remembered him if she had. "Never been to Tokyo before...is it worth a visit?" It would be a billion years before she could afford that visit (maybe she could get there, but she couldn't do anything or buy anything), though someday she may get lucky and win the lottery. Or marry rich. (Ha, that was a good one.)
[/justify][/size] |
|
|
|
Post by KEIJIRO WATANABE on Jun 4, 2013 7:56:29 GMT -8
tagged: josie. time: may 5th, 5pm. notes: none. So she wasn't a singer, but reading music was good. He knew that most kinds of music used the same notation more or less world wide, but the Shamisen was a particular outlier. It had it's own notation, and it was a pain in the butt to keep track of, even for someone who'd been using it for a while. It was nigh incomprehensible for someone who was coming from a western music viewpoint, and took quite a bit of getting used to.
"Well, it sounds like a good job." He knew there was demand for things like that. "Did you ever think of teaching English?" Because while there was demand for what she did, there was far more demand for English teachers. Good ones, who had grown up speaking English, were few and far between, and thus were of particular use to the beleaguered Japanese school system. Most students would learn only the stiffest, most formal English, unused to the myriads of short forms and slang. Even knowing English all his life, Keijiro still struggled with some of them, although his time in America was helping him far more then any amount of studying in Japan. It was so hard to get all the little context clues from a guide--you had to hear it to really understand it, and hearing it made everything far better.
"It's hard to say. I was there my whole life--the only thing I can compare it to is here. It's a lot less... hot." A lot less. The heat was a bit of a struggle for him, but he still erroneously believed that the heat would die down in the winter. It would, but not nearly to the extent he hoped. |
|
|
|
Post by ren on Jun 7, 2013 13:17:42 GMT -8
Teaching English had crossed her mind on several occasions, though her mother just laughed and told her that she didn't really have the patience to be a teacher. But, in a way, she was a teacher now. (Though, sometimes she felt more like a babysitter.) Though, suddenly changing her mind and becoming an English teacher was out of the question at this point. "I thought about it a lot freshman year. Made it my major for a little while. But then this gig came up, and I just couldn't resist." She liked what she was doing; this way, she was more of a friend to the kids than a teacher who had to scold them when they didn't perform properly. She got to be more involved in their lives, and they really opened up to her and saw her as an older sister. (Even if they called her Teacher, rather than the much cuter sounding word for older sister.)
She laughed at his comment on the weather. It was hot here, but it was much more pleasant than where she was from. "Honey, you should visit the south some time. Humidity makes everything ten times worse." Back home, it felt like you were swimming everywhere you went. Yeah, it was really hot here. But at least it wasn't that wet kind of heat. Though, she hadn't really been in this state long enough to comment on it too much. But so far it was much more pleasant here.
"How long have you been in the states?" He said he grew up in Japan, and he hadn't been in California long enough to get used to the heat. So she was really curious, and she wasn't really afraid of asking him questions anymore.
[/justify][/size] |
|
|
|
Post by KEIJIRO WATANABE on Jun 7, 2013 19:03:55 GMT -8
tagged: josie. time: may 5th, 5pm. notes: none. He didn't want to go someplace that was actually hotter then it was here. He'd die. Or melt. Walking around in less clothing wouldn't even work as an option, either. He wouldn't risk exposing more of his scars. He was awkward enough exposing the few that he couldn't hide with clothes, and to have the rest of it out in the open... no. Not an option. Not for him. He'd rather deal with the heat.
He didn't mind the questions so much. They weren't the kind of pointed questions that existed to stab him in things he'd rather not talk about. People tended to do that. They liked to ask questions about if he was really Japanese, or where his parents were from, or one of six hundred other questions he didn't like at all. That one was fine though. He could talk about the present day without issue.
"Only a few weeks. I've really just arrived." He explained. He hadn't been there very long. "I'm just here to get used to things before school begins in the fall." Which was going... sort of well. Not terribly, anyway. "Are you just back to visit, or...?" |
|
|
|
Post by ren on Jun 8, 2013 19:22:24 GMT -8
Not very long at all, the poor darling. Her head was swimming with questions, trying to figure this kid's story out. Did mom and dad move back with him, or was he just here for school and would be going back once he finished? Was it a transfer thing, so he'd only be here a year? Why did he grow up in Japan in the first place--dad got a job there? Mother had a love of the Japanese culture? There were way too many options for her to possibly guess the correct one, and she wasn't going to pry while grocery shopping--or pry at all, because she didn't really like prying. She would much rather have people openly tell her their stories, rather than try and fish it out of them. But she wasn't entirely sure if she'd ever hear his whole story, because in a city like this one it wasn't very likely that she'd see him again--not unless she got lucky and ran into him here again. He was probably one of like three blondes that wander around a Japanese market.
She shook her head, though in the process of answering him she realized that she hadn't even thought of going home and visiting her parents. Or even calling them. Oh dear, she probably should do that tonight. Or tomorrow, after she went and got one of those cheap little pay-as-you-go phones. Oh goodness did she even remember her own number? She bit her lip, practically able to hear her mother's voice and the rage that would be seeping through it. She hadn't even told her family she was back in America yet. (Though she assumed they had figured out that she was here eventually.)
Another shake of her head and the thought was gone, and she was able to answer once more. "Nope~ I ran out of money, and had to come back to raise some more up." She put a cheesy smile right before her next comment of "I work at the coffee place down town. You should come visit and give a nice tip~" She gave a laugh after that, lacing in an "I'm joking" with it. If he did ever stop by, she'd probably be so excited that she would buy his coffee for him.
"So~ Got a host family, or are you living on your own?" Her friend in college, a cute little Korean girl, had the worst host family on the face of the planet. It was like they fled the country and didn't come back until the end of the year. She hoped that, if he did live with a family here, that he would at least have a decent one.
[/justify][/size] |
|
|
|
Post by KEIJIRO WATANABE on Jun 9, 2013 13:53:23 GMT -8
tagged: josie. time: may 5th, 5pm. notes: none. If Josie was hoping that Keijiro was going to share his life story and explain himself, she was going to be sorely disappointed. Keijiro hated it. He hated having to explain himself, hated the questioning looks and the stares. He never wanted to explain himself, and he'd already had to do so plenty of times in his life. Realistically, he should have accepted it--should have gotten used to the idea that he might have to. Only he never had. It was always uncomfortable, always something he avoided if at all possible. He just hated the very idea, and it was the last thing he'd do with anyone, let alone a stranger.
She'd run out of money? Didn't an internship pay? He squinted at her slightly, completely confused. He really didn't know much of all about 'normal' jobs. They'd never really been a consideration for him. He'd known he was going into music a long time ago, and he'd never really had to deal with 'internships' or anything of the sort. She would probably be able to tell he was surprised by that, but he cleared his throat and carried on as if he wasn't embarrassed at all.
"It's just me. No host family." He gave a little shrug. "I can manage on my own, so I really didn't see the need for one." He'd considered the option, but he was certainly old enough to be on his own... even if he was on his own in a strange country with strange customs. |
|
