The Third Man 2/7
1932
"Not even once?" Nino asked him, aghast.
Sho walked a little faster, picking up the pace to try and get home quicker. To get inside and away from Nino's invasive questioning. "Not even once."
"You're older than me, Sho-chan. That's kind of embarrassing." Nino caught up with him easily, poking him in the side as they went along.
What was the hurry, Sho wondered. None of the girls in his classes at school were all that interesting. And he certainly didn't think it proper to pursue one of them without future intentions. But Nino wasn't much for propriety or doing things in the expected way.
He went on to detail his first kiss with a second year high school student. He'd been 12. Nino was a self-proclaimed "lady killer," and he'd seen her relaxing under a tree in a park near his house. He'd walked up boldly and announced that she was pretty. The girl got to her feet, picked up her bookbag, and kissed him gently on the mouth. Sho had little inclination to believe this story of Nino's, since he did like to slyly tease or outright lie.
But what did it matter? Nino had a dozen stories of kisses and a few about a little bit more than kissing. Sho blushed as Nino recounted the girl who had put her hand in his trousers to touch him just the other day. He was still in junior high school!
"Are you embarrassed?" Nino teased. "Or are you just jealous that I'm well on my way to adulthood, and you haven't even kissed a girl yet?"
Sho shook his head. "I don't need to kiss girls or grope girls or let them put their hands in my pants to be an adult. And besides, I'm not so sure I'd want anything serious with a girl who would so readily let herself be kissed and touched by someone she hardly knows."
"Whatever you say, Sho-chan." Nino was quiet for a few moments. "What about a boy?"
"Shut up."
Nino wrapped an arm around his shoulders. "I see. I see. You can tell me anything, you know. I won't hate you. I can't hate you. You're my friend, no matter what. You're my friend even if you don't kiss girls. You're my friend if you want to kiss boys."
Sho felt shame from his head to the tip of his toes. Not kissing girls didn't imply that he was weird and a pervert. "I didn't say I wanted to kiss boys. I don't want to kiss anybody!"
"So then why don't you become a monk?" Nino asked, easing off. "They don't kiss anybody. Well, maybe statues of Buddha, I don't know what monks do, really. You'd look terrible without hair though."
He gave Nino a shove. Sho was pretty damn sure he wasn't interested in anyone. "You're a pest sometimes, Ninomiya."
"True," he said, running ahead and turning back to stick out his tongue at Sho. "I may be a pest, but at least I don't want to kiss boys!"
Sho's hands became fists. "Take it back!"
Nino laughed. "Come over here and make me!"
Sho chased Nino the rest of the way home, forgetting exactly why he was furious by the time he reached the front gate of the house.
--
Sho instinctively pulled his blankets up, feeling suddenly embarrassed. Who was this stranger, and how did he know his name? He was vulnerable, in his shorts and in a home that didn't belong to him.
The man turned, looking back down the hallway rather than at Sho. "Nino said you were coming. You'll forgive me if I forgot your arrival was today."
Sho remained on the floor, unmoving. The 'Nino' moniker had stuck with his friend into adulthood. Or perhaps Nino had insisted upon its following him all these years. His eyes were fairly adjusted to the dark, even having been suddenly woken. The other man had put on the lights down the hallway, so his silhouette was visible. He was fairly average in height, perhaps a little taller than Sho himself, with long limbs and fairly broad shoulders.
"Come on, I'll make some tea," the man said, padding back down the hallway and closing the door part of the way to give Sho a measure of privacy once more.
He didn't want to move, didn't want to know. Nino was dead, and Sho thought he'd be left to deal with it alone. With the grief and the uncertainty. But no, now he was expected to have late night (early morning?) tea with a stranger. A stranger who also had a key to the apartment above Bar Ryusei.
Not keen on putting on the same clothes he'd worn the previous day, he finally opened up his suitcase and rummaged for something casual enough to wear. His new friend could wait for him to change at least. Content with his change of clothes, Sho left the warmth of the futon behind and headed down the hallway. It seemed that the other fellow had started the tea before waking him, and he was already pouring out the drink into a few porcelain cups.
Sho felt rather self-conscious, trying to smooth his hair down into a more presentable state since he'd been tossing and turning. His shirt needed ironing, too. The other man looked tired, almost as exhausted as Sho still felt after his long voyage across the ocean. He had sharp features, large eyes behind glasses with round frames, and long fingers as he held out the cup and saucer for Sho to take.
"Thank you," Sho muttered, accepting it and sitting down on the loveseat.
"I am sorry for waking you so suddenly," the man apologized. "I just...well, you were sleeping in my room."
Sho was mortified. He'd never considered the idea that Nino had a housemate, even though it was fairly logical. It was a better explanation for the fine furniture and other decor - the combined collection of two people rather than just one. "I apologize. I've only just arrived..."
"I know," the man said, sipping his tea calmly. "I saw the unfamiliar shoes when I came in. They weren't there before."
Sho let the tea cool a bit more, setting the saucer and cup down on the coffee table. "I'm sorry," he said, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I just..."
"Nino." The man stared across the room at nothing in particular, frowning. "Yes, it's all very shocking. Can't even venture a guess if it's more shocking for me, having lived with him, or for you, who didn't even get to see him."
Sho didn't know what to say. He didn't know this man, didn't know what the hell he was going to do. Now he didn't even know where he was welcome to sleep. The other man slid off his glasses, holding them loosely in his free hand as he finished his cup of tea.
"I've been rude," the man decided. "You've had an awful shock, and now I'm making you drink tea with me."
Sho shook his head. "I just don't normally drink tea at..." He glanced over at the grandfather clock. "4:00 in the morning."
The man's teacup clinked delicately back onto the saucer. "I'm Matsumoto. I'm sorry for not saying so. Matsumoto Jun. I've lived here with Nino for a few months now. And I drink a lot of tea at 4:00 in the morning." Sho watched Matsumoto lean back against the couch cushion, setting his glasses down at his side. "I work for a restaurant, we close late. By the time I return, Nino's usually closed up the bar and we..."
They returned to silence. Sho took his own cup back with shaky hands, none of the grace this Matsumoto seemed to possess. He couldn't help watching him, wondering what kind of person would live with someone like Nino. He also wondered what Nino had been like. It had been a long thirteen years - were Sho's Nino and Matsumoto's Nino the same person? What had changed? What had stayed the same?
Unlike Sho's rumpled clothes and messy hair, Matsumoto's clothes were clean and in good repair. His hair was cropped short and neatly trimmed. The only sign that Matsumoto worked for a restaurant now was in his hands, which looked a little rough and chapped, probably from washing dishes after the place closed.
How had he and Nino met? What had they talked about over tea at 4:00 AM?
"Sakurai-san?"
Matsumoto had obviously caught him staring, and Sho was too tired to try and mask his embarrassment this time. "I'm sorry."
"Nino was very fond of you," Matsumoto noted. "He was looking forward to your visit. He said you worked for a newspaper?"
Sho was grateful that Matsumoto had changed the subject. "Yes, I'm a reporter with the Los Angeles Times. I'm here to do some eyewitness reports."
"Japan in defeat," Matsumoto said bitterly.
Sho nodded. "In a way, yes. Let the folks across America know about the people they've beaten. To let them know why their taxes are paying for all the military here."
The other man grinned. "And what about you, Sakurai-san? Why are you here?"
"I just told you..."
"You just told me your assignment," the man said, reminding him very much of Nino with his probing questions so many years ago. He wondered if Nino and Matsumoto had gotten along or quarreled at every turn for sport. "I want to know why you're actually here."
Matsumoto got up, taking his empty cup and saucer when Sho didn't answer right away. He listened to the running water in the sink, pondering his answer while Matsumoto did the washing up. He was in Japan because it was work. He was in Japan to see Nino. Maybe he was in Japan to find out if he was at all welcome there, if he was welcome anywhere now.
The man emerged from the kitchen, drying his hands with a towel. "Go back to sleep. I'm sorry to have woken you."
Sho shook his head. "Not at all. But don't you want your room back? I mean, if it's your room..."
"I can manage with the sofa. I've slept in worse places," Matsumoto said, not bothering to elaborate. Sho nodded in gratitude, rising from the loveseat and hearing a few pops and cracks from his tired body.
Matsumoto followed him, retrieving a blanket and pillow from the cabinet. "You're absolutely sure?" Sho asked. "You're paying rent here, and I'm sure Nino would have just put me on the sofa..."
The man shook his head. "Nino would have insisted. And in his absence, I will respect his wishes."
In Nino's absence. Nino's permanent absence. Sho sat down on the futon, fully clothed in what he'd meant to wear the coming day. He didn't even hear Matsumoto close the door, and he sat there in his clothes for some time before laying down once more.
--
1937
He was home on break from Stanford, and there was no way he was sitting through dinner at his father's house. One of his high school friends, one of the only people who'd welcomed him instead of making fun of his novice-level English, had invited him to some Hollywood club. They said Errol Flynn had picked up girls there before, so his friend Jim was fairly confident things would go well. Especially with Sho's "exotic good looks" - Jim's words, not Sho's.
But it was almost midnight, and Sho was sitting at the bar alone. One of the cigarette girls had caught Jim's eye an hour earlier, and his friend had disappeared with her. Which was just Sho's luck, since Jim had driven them here, and the overpriced cocktails had cost him all his cash. Not like Sho's English had improved enough to call his own cab and get home without being ripped off. Four years in America had mostly taught him grammatical structure and vocabulary enough to keep up in class. And curse words, plenty of those.
So he sulked, tapping the stem of his martini glass. The bartender walked past a few times, seemingly curious. Sho supposed there weren't too many people who looked like him around very often. He'd been excited to come back, see Jim, maybe see a Hollywood star. Anything to get away from the pile of books and essays to write.
He was tired of the bartender's looks so he left money on the bar top and wandered off into the crowd. His sister would strangle him if she knew where he was. Of course, Mai was only fifteen, and there was no way she could sneak out of the house. And her English study was progressing slower than Sho's, so she wouldn't be able to find her way over. Their little brother had picked up more than the two of them combined. Maybe Shu would have better luck hobnobbing with the Hollywood crowd. The thought of his seven year old brother talking to some blonde in high heels made him chuckle, although the cocktails helped.
Sho made his way out of the club and out into the alley. Where the hell had Jim gone? He fumbled around in his jacket pocket for his cigarettes, frowning. Jim had bummed his last one on the ride over. No smokes, no money to get home, and every glittering sign was in blurry English thanks to the cocktails. Forget Jim, Sho thought. He could walk. Once he found Hollywood Boulevard again he could probably find his way to Runyon Canyon Park. That would be a walk, he thought bitterly.
He was halfway home and fairly sober, exhausted as hell as he trampled through the park's gravel pathways with only moonlight to guide him. It was only when he stopped to check for cigarettes again that he noticed someone was following him. He was still out of cigarettes, of course, and he was realizing just how dumb an idea this had been. It could be some weirdo with a knife, could be someone wanting to rob him.
He started to walk again, but the person called out. "Wait!"
It was a command Sho knew, and since he wasn't sure if the guy would come up and stab him if he ran, he turned on his heel. The guy was a little smaller than Sho, maybe a few years older. It was hard to tell in the dark.
"You lookin' for something?" the man asked him. Sho thought it was a strange question since Sho was the one being followed.
"No..."
The man stepped closer, and Sho knew he needed to run. He'd get home smelling like the club and cigarettes, and his father would berate him for "being like a loose, showy American," but it was preferable to this strange little man.
"Got a pretty face for a Chinaman."
Sho took a step back. "I need to be going."
The man caught him by the arm, quicker than Sho could have imagined. "Don't have all night. Know why you're in this park. Same as me, right, friend?"
Same as him? Was there something Sho was missing? But it became clear right away when the man pressed himself against Sho, startling him. The man's breath smelled like hard liquor. "Come on, pretty face like you. I know why you're here," the man insisted.
Damn Jim and that cigarette girl. Damn himself for thinking this was the best route home. "Let me go," he asked, trying to shrug the man off.
The man was trying to reach into Sho's pants, getting bolder and bolder the more Sho protested. Sho wasn't an American citizen, and he sure didn't have the ability to explain to the police what the hell was happening. Like they'd believe him.
"Just need a little..."
Sho shoved the man away roughly. "Stop!"
"Fucking pansy," his attacker grumbled, spitting at the ground near Sho's feet. "Chinaman pansy!"
Sho ran, pulling his coat tightly around him as he hurried away. The man cursed and hollered after him, and Sho strayed from the path. Low-hanging branches struck his face, and he could feel tears stinging his eyes as sharply as the pain from the new scratches. Pansy, the man had called him. He knew that word.
He'd known for some time that he wasn't one to chase cigarette girls like Jim. Hell, maybe he'd known for a while that something was wrong with him. Something that made him just as nasty and disgusting as the man in the park. "Same as me, right, friend?" the pervert had accused him.
Sho was different. Sho was funny. He ran faster. Maybe if he kept running, he could escape it.
--
Sho woke with a start, blinking away a bad dream. It was already slipping away as he remembered where he was. Not on board a ship, not in his apartment, not even at Manzanar. He was in Nino's apartment, and he had work to do. It was already after 10:00 AM.
Having made his clothes entirely unwearable by sleeping in them, he pulled out another shirt and pair of slacks. At least his tie was in decent shape, he thought as he got up. He walked out into the hallway slowly, hoping not to disturb Matsumoto as he carried his clothes and toiletry bag to the washroom. He could see the pillow propped against the arm of the sofa, so he knew the other man was still asleep.
The shower was mostly cold, but it felt kind of like a luxury. It was just him in the compartment with his soap and washcloth and his own thoughts. In Manzanar, he hadn't gotten the privilege of privacy, so every bath or shower now felt like some sort of gift. Cleanliness made him feel much better, and he brushed his teeth quickly and dressed. Matsumoto was sitting at the kitchen table when Sho emerged.
The man said nothing in greeting, drinking down a mug of coffee like his life depended on it. "Good morning," Sho said, seeing that Matsumoto had poured him one, too. "I hope I didn't wake you."
"You did," Matsumoto said, and Sho opened his mouth to apologize. Matsumoto held up a hand. "And don't worry about it. It was nice to hear someone else walking around." He frowned. "That sounded funny. It's just...I'm not used to being alone here yet..."
The thought of Nino was preoccupying them both. In Matsumoto's recent memories, and in Sho's distant ones. Sho sipped the coffee. It was actually quite good, considering how Tokyo was still mostly under rationing orders. "Were you at the service?"
"There wasn't one," Matsumoto replied. "Everything was private."
"Everything?" Sho asked. What about Nino's family? In his letter, he had mentioned his sister and her husband. Even if Matsumoto had only been living with Nino a few months, it wasn't out of the question for the man to be allowed to attend Nino's wake.
"You'd have to ask his friend Takahashi," Matsumoto said, looking suddenly less than composed. Sho could instantly tell that this Takahashi was no friend of his. "He handled all the arrangements. I was out when everything happened. I came home, saw the blood in the street.Takahashi was here saying Nino was gone. Killed. That he'd take care of it."
"Take care of it?"
Matsumoto got up, the chair scraping noisily against the floor. "That's all I know. They interred the ashes at Aoyama yesterday, but they never bothered to tell me where. Takahashi said he was in touch with the family, but I have my doubts."
Sho watched Matsumoto pour the rest of his coffee down the sink. "Why?"
Matsumoto just shook his head. "I'm sure he'll come around. You can just go ahead and ask him yourself, Sakurai-san."
Sho let the topic drop. Nino's friend Takahashi. Who was he? How was he involved with the owner of Bar Ryusei? Maybe it was none of his business. He'd been out of Nino's life so long. What right did he have to know details if even Nino's housemate had been kept in the dark?
"Working today?" Matsumoto asked, leaning against the sink. Every movement Matsumoto made seemed calculated, controlled. Even as he seemed to relax, his eyes were moving behind his glasses. Maybe he was still in shock about Nino and angry for having been excluded. Maybe he was angry with Sho for invading his space.
Sho nodded. "Suppose I should start earning the money they'll be wiring me. I don't want to leech off your hospitality too long."
Matsumoto shook his head. "Nino said you were going to stay until you were done. If that's what Nino said, then you'll stay here."
"But your room..."
"Stay in there, and don't make me change my mind about it," Matsumoto said, stretching his arms over his head. Sho looked down at his coffee as he saw the man's shirt creep up, exposing pale skin.
"Thank you. I appreciate it." He waited another moment, another sip of coffee. "Japan in defeat, you said last night. Supposing I was looking for a good place to document that."
Matsumoto snorted. "You'll earn your money, Sakurai-san. Walk a block that way, walk another in the opposite direction. You'll see the lines for food. For medicine. It won't take you very long to find something appalling to send home to America."
Sho sighed. "I'm sorry. I don't..."
"Nino told me you're from here. Born in Tokyo," the man admitted. "You never became a citizen? Your Japanese is still damn good."
He shook his head. "Thought about it."
"And?"
Sho thought about Manzanar, about the barbed wire and his mother's shame every time she returned from the showers or the toilets. "Decided to keep my Japanese citizenship."
"Well, I don't leave for the restaurant until after dark," Matsumoto said. "You want the guided tour?"
Sho wondered if this had been Nino's original intention. To let Sho stay with him, catch up on old times, and then show him how much the place they'd grown up in had changed. Matsumoto was readily stepping in, taking on Nino's role. But why? They'd been housemates for a few months. Why was Matsumoto so willing to lead some Americanized fool reporter around? Why was he so keen to carry out Nino's wishes?
But he figured the offer wouldn't be on the table forever. He smiled weakly. "Thank you. I would appreciate any help you could give."
Matsumoto nodded. "Just let me throw myself together. We'll find you plenty to write about."
--
1933
As soon as they were concealed behind the rose bushes in the back garden, Nino pulled the watch out of his pocket. "How about this for your mother's birthday?" he asked, wicked grin marring his innocent face.
"You know my mother's birthday is in April." Sho rolled his eyes. "You didn't steal this, did you? I mean, if my father finds out I'm hanging out with a delinquent..."
Nino laughed, doubling over in near hysterics. "Steal? Steal, me? Sakurai Sho, I am disgusted! I didn't steal this. I found it."
"You found it? I doubt that. This probably came from some fancy shop in Ginza..."
Nino shoved the watch back in his pocket. "Fine, you don't trust me. Your loss. And I was going to sell this to you at a discounted rate."
"You can save your discounted rates, Ninomiya," Sho pouted.
Nino was starting to worry him. The rate at which Nino was starting to "find" things around town was alarming. Today it was a fancy watch. Last week it had been gold cufflinks. What would he get next? And if he was making money off of his little schemes, Sho prayed that word of it wouldn't reach his father. It was bad enough that Sho "fraternized" with the son of their former chef. If Nino was up to no good, Sho would never be able to see him again. His father would see to that.
Nino got to his feet, brushing dirt off of his jacket. He seemed rather hurt that Sho wasn't interested in his latest activities. "Well, I need to get going."
"You just got here," Sho pointed out.
"Yeah, well, you were supposed to be amazed by my very special offer, and since you clearly don't know a good deal when you see it..."
"Oh, don't be sore about your stupid watch. What, did you wait for one of the links to break and for it to fall off some rich woman's wrist? Or did you take it from a lost and found bin?"
Nino shook his head, disgusted. "That's just like you, Sakurai. You always assume the worst about people. I can see that anyone who doesn't have a rose garden in their yard or a car of their own's probably just a criminal to you."
"What?" Sho cried. "Nino, I don't care about things like that..."
"Things like what?" Nino said, getting up in his face and sneering at him. "You don't care that we're poor? Is that it? Oh lucky me, Sakurai Sho doesn't care that we're poor. He sleeps under his silk sheets every night, thinking how good he is for having poor friends. How kind and generous he is."
Sho grabbed Nino's arm. "What the hell is your problem today?"
"What the hell is yours?" Nino shouted back. He wrenched his arm away and pulled the watch from his pocket. "I didn't steal the damn thing, okay? I didn't. Someone was stupid enough to lose it. Is that my fault? No, it's really not." He threw the watch into the rose bushes. "But to hell with it."
"Nino..."
His friend grabbed his bookbag. "I'll see you later."
"Nino, come on. Just wait and take the damn watch." He crouched down, fumbling around in the dirt for the stupid thing. He came away with several scrapes from the rose bush's thorns, watch in tow, but Nino was already gone when he looked back up.
--
The line for rice stretched down a solid city block as he and Matsumoto watched from the other side of the street. He jotted down a few phrases on his notepad. Maybe the suffering would resonate back home. But, Sho thought, maybe the folks in America would be thinking "serves them right." Sho didn't know, and he didn't really want to know. Matsumoto wasn't curious enough to sneak a peek at what he was writing, at least as far as Sho could tell. He lived this every day. Turning it into prose wasn't interesting to him.
Sho watched one woman leave her place in line, moving to the front to get down on her knees and beg to move ahead. Her children were starving, couldn't she please get her family's rice ration first? But the other women in line had ignored her pleas. Eventually the woman got up, ushered to the back of the line by a policeman trying to keep order.
In Manzanar, there'd been food lines. After the first few months, they'd all been allowed to start little plots to grow their own vegetables. Nobody had eaten well at Manzanar, but nobody had starved.
"Her children aren't the only ones going hungry," Matsumoto said. "They listen to her, and they understand her. They just can't help her without hurting themselves."
Sho found himself scratching down Matsumoto's words. This time, the other man seemed to catch on, and he started walking away before Sho was done.
"Wait," Sho said, hurrying to try and match Matsumoto's pace as they left the rice line behind. The streets were tricky to navigate. There were patches of ice here and there to dodge as well as plenty of rubble and garbage. But Matsumoto made it all seem effortless, as though walking around the debris was just something one had to do.
"Did you get enough? You get paid by the word or something?" Matsumoto asked, leading Sho back in the direction of Bar Ryusei.
"I don't," Sho said, though not so Matsumoto could hear him. It wasn't like Sho had forgotten the good coffee and tea in Nino's apartment. And he'd noticed there was no shortage of food in the place. Nino ran a bar, Matsumoto worked in a restaurant. Who in Tokyo had the money to visit those kinds of establishments? Not any of the people he'd seen in the streets that day. He couldn't afford for Matsumoto to throw him out though, so he kept his thoughts to himself.
It was near dark when they made it back to the bar, and Sho was surprised to see an Aston Martin parked in front. How much had it cost to import that into Japan, especially now? Matsumoto paused just before they crossed the street.
"Takahashi's here." He took his keys from his coat pocket. "I'm going around back. You don't need to wait up for me..."
"Matsumoto-san?"
But the man was already heading off in the direction of the alley, leaving Sho to deal with whoever Takahashi was. He was Nino's friend, showing up with such a fancy car? Sho crossed the street, seeing Tanaka in the tailor's shop looking out. As soon as he noticed Sho, he hurried away from the glass. Seeing the Aston Martin in the neighborhood must have drawn everyone's attention.
There was a light on inside, and the front door to Bar Ryusei was unlocked. Sho took off his hat and entered to find a man sitting at the bar counter alone. It seemed as though Takahashi had a key to the bar. Perhaps he was one of Nino's investors.
"Sorry to intrude," Sho said quietly, and the man turned around. Sho could see from the man's coat that he was rather wealthy, if the car out front hadn't already been a dead giveaway. His shoes were well-polished, and he had intelligent eyes that seemed to light up as soon as he saw Sho enter. He was balding, closer to Sho's father in age. Nino's good friend was this much older?
"It's no intrusion," the man said, instantly reminding Sho of the men in his father's own social circles. In Japan or in America, men with power acted similarly. He reached into his coat and pulled out a silver business card holder, presenting Sho with his card. It only bore his name, no mention of a company. "I am Takahashi Katsumi. You must be the friend, Sakurai. I received word you'd finally arrived, wanted to come personally and make sure you were being taken care of."
First, Matsumoto was ensuring that Nino's wishes were being carried out. Now it was this Takahashi fellow's turn. Sho accepted the card with a nod. "Yes, Sakurai Sho. I'm afraid I've only recently arrived from America. I'm sorry I have no card to exchange."
Takahashi waved his hand. "Don't worry. It must have been a long journey, business cards being the furthest from your mind, surely. Don't worry, Sakurai-san. Come, come, please join me."
Sho was ushered over to the bar where Takahashi had helped himself to a bottle of whiskey. He poured some in a glass for Sho. "Of course, no ice. Bar's been closed since the incident. No ice for us today, Sakurai-san, but we drink to the memory of this bar's master, your dear friend, Ninomiya-san. Cheers."
He barely had a chance to hold up his own glass before Takahashi's collided with it. Sho could do nothing but take a good long sip of the stuff along with Nino's pushy friend. It burned going down, lacking the ice Sho usually required to get through it.
Takahashi clapped him on the back. "Ninomiya, I say that boy was really going places. You don't find too many like him, do you, Sakurai-san?"
Sho could only go on his memories of Nino, but he certainly was unique. "No, you certainly don't."
"It's a damn shame. A terrible shame. Why, haven't we lost enough men? What with the war finally ending? And of all the ways to go. A terrible shame," Takahashi said, only allowing Sho time to nod before he continued on. "God allows an old man like me this many years, and someone like Ninomiya, gone so suddenly."
"It certainly came as a shock to me," Sho admitted, taking another more measured sip from his drink.
"Of course it did, son, of course. I was there. A damn shame, I was right there with Ninomiya when it happened."
Sho blinked. Takahashi had been there when Nino had been struck?
"That truck was going too fast, my word. It just came barreling down the street. Somehow Matsuyama, my associate Matsuyama and me, we both managed to get out of the way. Just barely, mind you, just barely. I thought it would have gotten all three of us, one, two, three. But oh, Ninomiya. I say, that boy had the quickest mind, but he'd been crouching down, you see. We were talking, the three of us. Myself, Matsuyama, Ninomiya. Just talking, and the boy dropped something, and we only just got aside, Matsuyama and myself..."
Takahashi poured himself some more whiskey, adding even more to Sho's glass. It was clear that the man would rule any conversation he started. Sho wondered if Nino had kept up or just listened.
"A damn shame," the man told Sho, clinking their glasses. "He ran this bar like a machine. Now look around, empty. Man's not here, can't pay his employees. They don't come to work. Look around this neighborhood, bad accident like that. They won't come have a drink. What shall we do, Sakurai-san? What is to be done?"
Sho was confused. "What is to be done?"
Takahashi ignored him. "Without its owner, this place will go under. Ah, of course, how silly of me. You don't know who I am. Here I go, forcing drink down your gullet, and I've just given you my name card. How very rude. Takahashi Katsumi, Nino's dearest friend here, save yourself if I'm to understand? Bar Ryusei was my investment, of course, but it was Ninomiya, oh that sharp Ninomiya. He was running this place. Like a machine, I've said already."
"Do you plan to close it down?" Would Takahashi force him to leave? What of Matsumoto? It was clear that Matsumoto couldn't stand the man. Sho wondered if the feeling was mutual.
"Ah, it's only been a few days, of course. We're all so distressed by what's happened. Matsuyama, of course, is distraught. Definitely, him being here too. And he was so fond of Nino. They're closer in age, you see. Nino and Matsuyama. They let an old geezer like me hang around. Good boys, the both. Very good boys."
"Takahashi-san," Sho interrupted. "I'm sorry, but I was speaking with Nino's roommate, Matsumoto-san?"
Takahashi's expression didn't change in the slightest. "Of course, the fellow from the restaurant, the pretty face."
Sho didn't know how to respond to that. "Matsumoto-san told me that you arranged for the funeral and all of that?"
"Yes, as a friend, of course I did. Of course I did. I wouldn't dream of forcing his family to cover the expenses, goodness no. An accident like that? Goodness no. I insisted on taking care of everything. I invested in Ninomiya, I truly did. I saw things through to the end. Matsuyama and myself, we ensured everything was taken care of smoothly."
"Then, if you'll pardon me," Sho dared, remembering Matsumoto's rather hurt expression earlier that morning. "I was wondering why Nino's services were private? I mean, Matsumoto-san was a friend, and he very much wanted to attend..."
Takahashi's smile remained, but his eyes changed. As though Sho had said something absurd. "Well, sometimes these things slip through the cracks. Matsuyama and I, we wanted things to go smoothly, you see. We took care of it all so quickly."
"And you neglected to inform Nino's housemate, even about the services or the burial plot?"
Takahashi downed the rest of the liquor, slamming the glass down on the bar top with a sudden ferocity that made Sho jump. "It was something requiring prompt handling, you understand. Prompt handling. This freeloader has only been living here a short time, you see. A short time. He did not know Nino or his wishes the same as me or Matsuyama. I do not know what he has told you, but he was not excluded by intention but on accident. It was stressful, you understand."
Sho wasn't sure he understood. How hard could it have been to just tell Matsumoto what was going on? Or to tell anyone, for that matter? But he realized that Takahashi was not a man to cross. Somehow, Matsumoto had earned the man's scorn. Freeloader? Did Matsumoto not pay his share? Sho was realizing that there was far more to the situation than he'd even realized. What would Nino's death mean for Matsumoto, now seemingly at the mercy of Takahashi?
"Oh, would you look at the time? I'm due for dinner. With some of the Americans, you see. It's all for the best that we cooperate. Wouldn't you agree, Sakurai-san? You're one of them, yes?"
Sho took another sip of whiskey, suddenly needing the alcohol for courage. "Not exactly, no. I still have Japanese citizenship."
"Ah, but you understand. If Japan is to emerge from this situation, it's best we try and get along. There's no shame in that, no shame at all," Takahashi explained. The man was well-connected, Sho realized. What had that meant for Nino? Just how well-connected had Sho's friend become these past thirteen years?
Takahashi got down from the stool, putting his hat over his balding head. "It was wonderful to meet you, Sakurai-san. It is something I have looked forward to all week. In fact it is the only thing I looked forward to."
Sho's mind was nearly overwhelmed with their conversation. "Ah, yes, of course. I thank you for taking care of things with Nino. He was a good friend."
"A good friend who loved you dearly, Sakurai-san. You see, that is why I wished to meet you." He could see Takahashi's eyes get slightly misty. He couldn't tell if it was acting or sincerity - Matsumoto certainly would have believed the former. "Matsuyama and I, we carried Nino aside after it happened, you see."
"He was still alive?"
Takahashi nodded gravely. "In his final breaths, he told Matsuyama and myself to ensure that you were looked after when you arrived. His dying wish, you see. That you be looked after. Well, here I am, at your service." Takahashi squeezed his shoulder in a way that definitely didn't imply the friendliest type of "looking after."
Sho could only fake a smile. "I'm not sure if I'm worth all the attention. It's been so long since I've been in Japan. I fear that Nino may have overestimated my importance."
"Nonsense," Takahashi said, squeezing harder. "Don't worry, Sakurai-san. You stay here at Bar Ryusei, working on your stories. I certainly hope you'll have a pleasant visit here in Tokyo. Of course, we can't let all this alcohol go unused."
The man released him and set a key down on the counter before heading for the door. Nino was dead, and that man had been the last to see him alive. It sent a shudder down Sho's spine.
"And you'll give my apologies to the petty officer. For excluding him, of course. It was not my intention to do so," Takahashi said.
"I'm sorry, who? Petty officer?" Sho asked. What the hell was the man talking about?
Takahashi grinned. "Petty officer...second class, I think he was. Matsumoto, that is. Oh, goodness me, I never could keep the rankings straight for the airmen. I was in the army when I was a young man, not the navy. Certainly not the Navy Air Service. I stayed on the ground, thank you very much." He opened the door, waving merrily before departing.
Navy Air Service? Matsumoto had been a pilot during the war?
Part 3