Chp 1.
“You care for Panda a lot, don’t you?” I hoped I hadn’t scared him by naming Panda on a first name basis.
“Wanna hold Panda?” snapping his head upright and holding him out to me. “He likes soft and warm hands the best. If they’re cold, he might bite or make a funny noise.” I accepted, letting Panda’s soft artificial fur slip into my palms. I noticed worn marks around Panda’s stomach and his crooked nose had lost its shine. The eyes were the most intact, warm and inviting in the restaurant’s dim lighting.
“He’s been places, yeah?” I noticed the worn marks on the warm entity in my hands.
“As far as London; I’m English, you see.”
“London? That’s a fair bit away. ”
“I found him on the street. It was snowing and he was covered it snow. People had stepped on him; he was so grotty so I had to wash him. I couldn’t throw him away, even if he’s only a stuffed animal,” speaking softly.
“How did you end up in Kyoto?” Jon hunched over, his hands clutching Panda tighter. His face dropped and said nothing for half an hour. I felt uneasy from forcing my request onto him. “Ahh, that’s okay if you can’t say those things.”
“I’m looking for someone-I promised her I’d find him…so I’m always going to try living up to those words. I’ve slowly made my way here on my own to find them.” I felt the incentive to return Panda to him, but it seemed that Jon, not Panda needed comforting soft hands to consume him. “I like to draw. Pictures or paint, I just like to draw,” between periodic lapses of silence. “But I’m not very good.”
“Me too; I mean, I’m the same. I have such a drive to do all sorts of things, but the aesthetic quality is never satisfying.” I handed Panda back to him. “Panda is lucky to have a smiling friend caring for him.”
“Panda is nothing to me if I can’t face myself.”
I stopped, wondering his incentive for journeying to Kyoto from England. “What about your parents-aren’t they worried that you’ve come here by yourself?”
“My parents were murdered the day after before I found Panda, a few years ago.”
“Ehhh?! How rude I’ve become,” I screamed silently. Jon jumped of out his chair and leapt for the door. Frowning, I was confused by the situation. “I wonder if I’ve offended him. Ahh, but he took his panda with him and left his bag…” My thoughts connected in a rush of salt and adrenaline, eyeing the sling bag with the Union Jack sewed to the front panel. “Where did such a figure slip off to?”
Thanking Rhon, the rugged man behind the counter single-handedly makes all the food for the restaurant, the same man I spoke of earlier, I left money on the table to pay for my troubles [and two unordered meals], more than the price of the most expensive menu item doubled and then some-but I didn’t care. I had met him only a few hours ago, he’d shared so much in a short compressed with me already, so much than I consider him a friend without a thought.
Slinging his bag over my shoulder, I ran past cars waiting to the ends of their lifetimes to turn the corner and past empty shops waiting for the close of the night. Look at them in the driver’s seats, white knuckled and pale: they wait for the light to change, for someone higher dictate the precise moment to move ahead. Who decided to appoint such a person? Why do they wait in their self-absorbed boxes of metal and curved plastic, waiting for the sign to proceed through the intersection? If someone were to proudly plow through and lead the rest of the waiting population to victory, would they follow or be afraid to follow for fear of punishment for non-conformity.
“Where did Jon run off to? Why did he leave so abruptly? He must know what he’s doing, since he left his bag.”
Discreet shadows slithering over the streets skewed their appearance and made them seem longer, heeding sights from a distance or sight wanting to remain unseen. It felt as if I would never reach my destination: Jon, and his ultimate safety.
The opening of a dark alleyway echoed muffled screams from further downward. I ventured in, making sure that no one was following me, or in front of me. “For the last time, boy, tell us where he hides the keys to his office!!! ‘Cause we’re in need of them, and you’re the next one in line who might just have ‘em!” I heard a high-pitched yelp from around the corner, and immediately I knew to follow it without disregard. My feet hit the concrete faster; I knew something bad would happen if I didn’t hurry.
Further down the alley, an opening above allowed fog to seep down which blinded me from seeing Jon, if he was there or not. I stormed to the end, unsure of where my feet might lead me.
There was something mixed with that fog surrounding my body. Shadows, several of them, looming higher and swirling in circles around my shoulders. I couldn’t fixate myself to a particular movement nor remain steady. “Jon! Jon?! You okay?!”
“Jon is dead.”
“Who’s there? Who are you? Whoever you are, let him go! He has no affiliation with you, so his existence doesn’t concern you,” I pressed.
“He is an idea; a collection of thoughts,” echoed a male voice. “He is not a person.”
“You speak as if you are familiar with him; are you related to Jon?” Any information I could pull out would be useful in finding him.
“He carries a panda, stuffing and sorting it with emotions; displaying himself as a five year old.”
“Are you talking about Panda? Panda is his life-force-the only thing he cares about nowadays. What right do you have to steal his only reason for living away from him? What did he do to you?”
“Tok, tok, tok.” I heard something like glass slip to the ground. “No, it couldn’t be!” My heart raced. Panda’s eyes torn from his face had fallen to the concrete.
The shadow stepped forward to my face and revealed himself to me as a dark, burly man. Bulging muscles shaped and extenuated his clothes. He glowered, cackling and spluttering like a crow with pneumonia. I witnessed Panda’s stitching being ripped out. A group of older men stood behind; I could see them vaguely in the fog. They seem like the kind of people who would harass Jon him for carrying around such a “girly” thing. Striding closer, I knew I couldn’t do much, but I was taller than those men. The least I could do was to scare them away and leave not much damage.
My punches were strong; blood stained my hands as much as time did. I hoped that I could help Jon in some way. “But Panda might take awhile to recover,” I thought to myself, watching them leave in a black Mercedes parked on the street after concluding that they had no effect on me.
I suppose meeting someone who shares at least one same interest as you is pretty high, but when they match you exactly, it seems absurd-exactly where had he been hiding, when I needed a friend like him? “Ne, are you ok?”
He turned his back, slumping exhaustedly in the corner, “Panda’s gone, isn’t he? They took him didn’t they?”
“Panda…Panda is here. But he needs…fixing,” struggling with my words. His eyes fixated on Panda for a few minutes until he stated that he wanted me to throw Panda away. “Why? Isn’t he important to you?”
“Not in the state that he’s in.” “What a dark personality.” I stared at Panda, assessing the damage. “He’s fixable. I…know someone who can repair this for you. When he’s repaired, then you can make a decision on whether he’s worthless or not.”