Jaded Winter Wonderland
By Shinomori no Kami Daiji
It was a colder winter this time around, the
young man noted, which didn’t suit him one bit. It meant coming to school would
be hazardous with the slippery sidewalks. The cold weather had also been
bothering his knee. He already begged off two practice games during the bitter
frosts. He hated being away from basketball. Two years was enough torment.
And it also meant it was Christmas.
“
He had been in a foul mood since he came to
school this morning. His mother told him that she will work the night shift
tonight. That meant he would be by himself in the holidays.
Mitsui kicked up the snow in front of him.
It wouldn’t matter to him, anyway. He only saw his mother at nights and on
those weekends he decided to stay home. Not seeing her for a few days wasn’t
much of a difference.
He also almost didn’t join the team’s
practice that afternoon. Sakuragi was already teasing
him, telling him he’s already old. If not for the love of the game and Anzai-sensei,
Mitsui would have throttled his loudmouthed teammate.
Mitsui stopped in front of the department
store he usually passes by on the way home from school. They had already
decorated the place for Christmas, he noticed belatedly. He stared back down
the street where people struggled to maintain their footing. He then realized
he’d rather wait for the s streets to be cleared of snow before heading home.
Nobody was waiting there, at any rate. And he would be warmer indoors than out
here, so he stepped through the revolving doors.
“Welcome to
He expected the mall to be crowded since it
was after working hours. But he never thought it would be this packed! People
were just everywhere, in and out of stores, struggling with the packages they
were carrying, while others were chasing after their little children. The noise
all around almost drowned out the tinny carols from the speakers.
Mitsui passed by a soda shop where a group
of high school girls from another school, giggling and chatting away. To what
he thought of as misfortune, Mitsui caught a few of their exchanges.
“Do you think Hirumi
will ask me out on our Christmas Ball?” one girl asked.
“Ara! Of course, he will!” her friend piped in.
“He’d been asking around whether you had a date or not.”
“Ne? Really?” the first girl gushed. “I’ll be
the happiest girl alive!” Giggles went round.
Mitsui sighed, shaking his head slightly.
Empty-headed girls like them are too easy to please.
He paused to stare into the window display
of a toy store, and saw a shiny Perfect Grade Gundam
model. He was caught by the sleek design and its attention to detail. It took a
surreal gleam under a shroud of blinking lights. The mecha beckoned to him, just like the coveted Macross
he wanted to have ten years ago. He asked for it as a Christmas gift in those
rare occasions his father was home for the holidays. But because he wasn’t
faring well in school, his father refused, saying he’ll get him the toy when he
brings him a good report card. So he tried harder. But no matter how hard he
tried, Mitsui still did poorly and only contented
himself to staring longingly by the display window.
Which reminded him. Otou-san will be late in coming back from
He grunted. What was the big deal with this
Christmas, anyway? It was just some gaudy Western tradition the Japanese just had to follow.
“Can’t you buy me that one? Please?”
Mitsui cast a sidelong glance at a small boy
beside him. His palms were pressed against the glass as he had his face leaning
close to it. He was looking wistfully at the same direction Mitsui was. That
same hungry look he had before, as would any child for a toy.
“No,” came a stern
female voice as her hand settled on the little boy’s shoulder. “You have enough
toys already. Come on, it’s getting late! Your father is waiting.”
She half-dragged her son away from the
window. Mitsui heard a small sound of disappointment from him.
“Shouldn’t have kept your hopes up, kid,” he
said under his breath as he turned away.
He walked aimlessly amidst the mob of
shoppers. Pandemonium was literally everywhere. He kept his gaze ahead,
ignoring the colorful tinsel adorning every shop, or the bright lights winking
at him.
Mitsui used to be that kid, or any other
child who looked forward to this time of year: expectant, yearning to receive
the most wonderful present on Christmas. His father never got his gift right.
It was either something he didn’t like, or he was too old for them. That was
until he was given a basketball. That was the best and only gift he wanted.
Now that he was through with childish things
altogether, he began to see the futility of celebrating this occasion. It had
always been just him and his mother almost every year. If his father arrived,
it was always a day or three after Christmas. So what’s the use in celebrating?
And they never prepared much for Christmas dinner since it since it was only
the two of them. They also did away with the gift giving since, like his
father, his mother didn’t seem to know what she should get for his son.
“This is such a waste,” he said to himself.
All it brought were false hopes and broken promises. It was all too much. He
decided to go home and get out of this madness.
“Hey!” he blurted testily as a guy bumped
into him.
“Oh! I’m so sorry,” the apology as the
fellow turned to face him.
“Oi! Kogure!” Mitsui exclaimed. He almost didn’t recognize Shohoku’s vice captain and teammate in his thick coat and a
scarf that obscured the lower half of his face. But the glasses and the eyes
behind it were dead giveaways. “I didn’t think I’d see you here.” He looked
down to see a small parcel in the other’s hand. “Doing some Christmas shopping,
ne?” he
asked wryly.
“Well, yes,” Kogure
answered with a small chuckle. “Just little presents for my grandparents and
little sister.”
“What did you get them?” Mitsui asked,
curiously peering at the package wrapped in colorful paper.
“I bought a shawl for obaa-san,” he answered. “I still haven’t gotten anything for ojii-san and Oshin-chan.”
“Not getting anything for yourself?”
Mitsui asked solicitously.
Kogure just shrugged. “I didn’t save enough,” he
admitted. “But that’s okay. At least, I’ll be getting something for them.”
“What about for your parents?”
His teammate’s eyes dimmed slightly. “I
don’t have to anymore,” Kogure answered softly.
“Oh? Oh.” Stupid Hisashi, he scolded himself. He
forgot that Kogure lost his parents years ago. He
learned about it from their team captain, Akagi. It
was a vehicular accident that claimed them both.
The light in Kogure’s
eyes returned shortly. “Anyway, what are you doing here?” asked in return.
“Me? Just whiling away the time until the
road is cleared from snow,” he replied, looking outside. It looked like the
clearing crew hasn’t come by yet.
“Is that so?” said Kogure.
“Well, do you mind helping me pick out what to buy for my family?”
“Are you joking?” Mitsui exclaimed
incredulously. “I’m the last person
you should be asking when it comes to shopping.”
“That’s alright,” the vice captain rejoined.
“You can keep me company while I look around. How about
that?”
“Well…” Mitsui hedged. He wasn’t in the mood
for company.
“I’m buying the food,” Kogure
offered. “I don’t have much money, but I think it should be enough.”
“Good enough for me,” Mitsui responded with
a grin. Might as well go with him to make up for upsetting
him.
Kogure returned the grin gratefully. “Let’s go,
then,” he said as they threaded through the crowd once more.
“Why didn’t you just get your grandfather
matching scarf as well?” Mitsui wondered.
“I thought about it,” Kogure
replied as they entered a clothes store. “I didn’t like the ones I saw in the
store where I bought this bought this.”
He led them to the girl’s teen’s section,
and began going through a rack of blouses.
Mitsui watched his friend go through one
item after another. “You don’t know what to get for her, don’t you?” he asked
flatly.
Kogure looked slightly frustrated as he turned to
Mitsui.
“I guess I’m just as clueless in shopping as
you are,” he remarked, then subsided to a grin. “I
want to get her a lot of nice things, but I don’t know how.”
When Mitsui frowned, Kogure
went on. “I mean, if I wanted to get her a dress, I’d have to know her size, ne? I just can’t
ask her. It wouldn’t be a surprise then.”
“Then ask your grandmother,” Mitsui answered
easily. “Or better yet, why don’t you get her a teddy bear like anybody else
would?” It was also a season for those things. Teddy bears were just as
widespread as Santa Claus during this season, taking up most of the shelf space
in every store.
Kogure looked uncertain. “It’s supposed to be a
surprise,” he reiterated. “I don’t want any of them to know. Besides, I want to
get her something different from the usual.”
He paused from his search as he scratched the side of his face. “It
sounds a little strange, I know. It’s just that I wanted to see their reactions
when they never expected I’d be giving them presents.” He went on to another
rack, a self-conscious laugh escaping his lips. “Weird, ne?”
“No, it’s not strange at all,” was Mitsui’s
quiet rejoinder, staring at his teammate busily examining the clothing in his
hand.
He followed Kogure
silently from one store to another. They have gone in and out of several
establishments, but Mitsui didn’t seem to notice. He was simply astounded by it all. Kogure was just swept by the frenzy of it all.
When their hour-long rounds bore no fruit, Kogure finally decided to stop by a food stall and ordered takoyaki for both of them. They sat on the nearby bench and
ate in companionable silence.
“Are you tired?” Kogure
looked up from his food. “You’ve been very quiet.”
Mitsui shook his head. “I’m just not used to
seeing you like this,” he averred and took a sip of his soda.
His teammate blinked at him, perplexed. “Hora? In
what way?”
“Well, I never thought you’d be one who gets
sucked into Christmas… madness,” he appended for lack of a better word.
Kogure looked surprised, leaning back onto the
bench. “And I never thought you to be so cynical about this,” he admitted.
“What’s so cynical about being practical?”
Mitsui argued. “Look at all this. Who knows it might be some commercial scam so
people will buy more? Want more? It’s stupid, really.” He snorted. “Just
because the foreigners do it, we have to as well. This Christmas isn’t even
part of our belief.”
“But we do share a common belief: sharing
your blessings and giving of one’s self,” Kogure put
in softly.
“Squandering good money is more like it,”
Mitsui muttered darkly.
Kogure was stunned. He looked away, pushing up his
glasses. “Maybe you’re right,” he said after a while. “Maybe this is all made
up by gaijin, even that Santa Claus
character. They celebrate this occasion to remember the birth of their Savior.
But do they really know when he was born?”
“Yeah,” Mitsui rejoined. “But you still
haven’t told me why you observe it, too?”
He gave a slow shrug. “All I know is this: it
makes me remember the good life I have with my family and friends. And if
squandering good money meant giving joy to the people I care for even for that
short moment, I’d do it.”
Mitsui was stunned to silence at his
friend’s earnest confession. But he wasn’t easily swayed.
“You’re a sentimental fool,” he remarked
with a lopsided grin. “Do you know that, Kogure?”
He gave a tilt of his head, seemingly not
offended, but he gave no reply. Instead, he looked at his watch.
“It will be late soon,” Kogure
announced. “I have to get this shopping done. I still have to get things done
before Christmas.” He suddenly slapped
his forehead with his palm. “Ara! That reminds me! Do
you have any plans on the Christmas day, Mitsui?”
“Plans?” He scratched a finger behind his ear. “No,
but I never do, anyway.”
Kogure drew back slightly. “Eh? Don’t your parents
have any arrangements?”
“Feh, what for?”
he affected a devil-may-care manner. “The only ones who’ll be left in the
apartment that time will be me and the TV.”
“I see,” Kogure
said with sympathy. “Then why don’t you come over and have dinner with us?”
Mitsui cocked an eyebrow. “Don’t patronize
me, Kogure. You know how I feel about this whole
thing.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Kogure
insisted with a shake of his head. “I want you to come anyway.”
The shooting guard cast his eyes to the
ceiling. “Yareyare,”
he said with a sigh. I’ll think about it.”
“That’s good enough,” he responded with a
warm smile. “Come on, let’s get going.”
He stood up. “I’m giving you thirty more
minutes, Kogure,” Mitsui warned. “If you don’t buy
anything by then, I might have to strangle you.”
“What?” He gave a nervous chuckle. “Then
help me pick out the gifts for Oshin-chan and ojii-san.”
“Boxing gloves for Oshin-chan and a bottle of sake for
your grandfather,” Mitsui quipped.
Kogure gave a start. “Mitsui!” he blurted. “You’re
not being helpful here!”
“Who says I would be?” he smirked.
“There’s some food in the refrigerator you
can heat up for dinner,” she announced. “And you know what number you can reach
me.” She waited for a response. “Did you hear me?”
“Yes, I did,” he said automatically without
looking up at his mother, as his eyes were fixed on the news on TV.
Mrs. Mitsui was fixing herself in front of
the mirror, smoothing the creases on her blouse. “You’re not going out
tonight?” There was a hint of surprise in her tone.
Her son didn’t miss the point. “I’m done
with that, mother, remember?” he stressed.
He didn’t have to elaborate; he didn’t need to. Ever since he joined
Tetsuo’s gang, that little fact seemed to be the only thing she knew of her
son’s life. Even after changing his ways and rejoining Shohoku’s
basketball teams, she seemed to be waiting for him to slip up again; because if
he did, his father will be told this time.
“Kogure invited me
to dinner at his house,” Mitsui said after a while.
“Is he one of those no-good friends of
yours?” she asked solicitously.
Mitsui didn’t want to take the bait. “No,
he’s my teammate in the basketball team. He’s even the vice captain,” he
managed to say calmly and with some pride.
“You’re not going?”
After a long pause, Mitsui admitted, “I
don’t know.”
“Why don’t you go?” his mother asked
candidly.
“It’s just some silly Christmas dinner,”
Mitsui answered, switching the channel. The news was followed by a foreign
Christmas program.
“Well, call me in the office if you decide
to go,” Mrs. Mitsui said, picking up her bag then made her way to the door.
“I’ll be home by seven tomorrow. I’ll be going now.”
“Bye,” he said flatly to a closed door. He
switched channels again. Damn. If it wasn’t a rerun of some romantic movie, it
was a Christmas show. Can’t they put anything decent on television?
Mitsui turned the TV off, then
looked around. He noticed the box of sweet cakes on the coffee table by his
feet. He bought it in case he did accept Kogure’s
invitation. After all, he told him he’ll think about it, that’s not saying yes.
But that’s not saying no, either.
He thought of the pros and cons of going. If
he stayed, he has reheated dinner and boring TV. If he went, he’ll get a free
dinner, meet Kogure’s family, and have some good
company. Add to that, he wanted to strengthen his relationship with his
teammates to make up for lost time.
Mitsui sighed. What was I thinking? “No harm in having dinner with a friend, is there?” he said to himself as he hauled himself
up and marched for the bathroom.
Half an hour later, he was in Kogure’s street looking for the number of his house. After
three blocks he found it, a low two-storey residence. A small pond at the front
yard reflected the half-moon, and a patch of garden peeped at the left side of
the house. He stopped in front of the low gate and pressed the doorbell. The
front door opened, and Mitsui could make out the silhouette of his teammate. Kogure jogged up to the gate with a welcome grin.
“You made it,” he said as he unlocked the
gate. “Come in.”
Mitsui gave a small grin and followed Kogure along the footpath. He noticed something different
for the first time.
“You don’t have any Christmas decorations,”
he remarked. All the houses, except theirs, burned bright with lights and
colorful ornaments against the velvety white snow that covered the houses.
Kogure glanced at the houses that flanked them.
“We don’t believe in gaudy displays,” he said. “And it takes too much work for
even Ojii-san and I to set up the decorations. Ojii-san! Obaa-san! Mitsui’s
here!” he called out when he opened the door.
The interior of the house was just as
unadorned for the holidays, but Mitsui couldn’t mistake the warmth and
togetherness that made up for the simple surroundings. It was a glaring
contrast of what his household lacked.
A woman in her late fifties emerged from
their left, an apron over her pale rose kimono. Her lined face was set in a
ready smile as she set her eyes on Mitsui.
“Ah, Mitsui-kun,” she said in a pleasant elderly tone, “it’s nice to have
finally met you.”
“Komban wa,” Mitsui said with a bow. “Shinnen omedeto.
I brought some cakes for you.”
“Thank you, Mitsui-kun,” she said, cordially accepting the parcel.
“Welcome to our humble home, Mitsui-kun,” said a new voice.
“Ojii-san,” Kogure acknowledged him as he came up to them, a little
girl of eight holding his hand.
“Oshin-chan, why don’t you say hello to
Mitsui-kun?” her grandfather urged
gently, nudging the child forward.
She obliged meekly with a nod of her head. “Shinnen omedeto,” she
said, her face straining to look up at the tall newcomer. When their eyes met,
her lips widened to a smile, rounded brown eyes glittering in childish glee.
Mitsui was struck with the similarities with her older sibling.
He also returned their greetings with a
smile of his own, the only heartfelt one he gave that day. Mitsui was instantly
touched by the warm reception they gave, a ready acceptance he wasn’t prepared
for.
“Dinner will be ready momentarily,” Kogure’s grandmother said. “Why don’t you take our guest to
the sitting room, Miyo? And come help me fix the table, Oshin-chan.”
“Hai!” she cried exuberantly and followed her grandmother to
the kitchen.
Mitsui cocked an eyebrow at Kogure as soon as they left. “Lead the way, Miyo.”
Kogure beamed at him sheepishly, and showed him
the sitting room.
The décor was diverse, to say the least, as
they corresponded to the taste and age of the occupants: from the ikebana on the coffee table to the framed
photographs on either side of the plush sofa. The general setting was a little
old-fashioned for Mitsui’s taste, but tasteful. More importantly, it felt like
home.
“So, Mitsui-kun,” Kogure’s ojii-san began as he settled on the armchair. The young men sat at the
long couch. “You and Miyo have known each other long?”
“Since our first year,” he answered simply.
Ojii-san nodded. “Well, we’re glad you accepted Miyo’s invitation,” he
acknowledged. “He rarely invites friends over other than for study groups and
projects. We were beginning to get worried he’d become a hermit once he
graduates high school.”
“Mou, Ojii-san…” Kogure protested
mildly, a hand scratching his head.
His grandfather chuckled good-humoredly.
“Ah, Miyo,” he chided teasingly. “You’re just too young to be too serious. Learn to take it slowly or you’ll end up as
old as I am in just three years.” He gave a sly wink at Mitsui.
“Ojii-san,” Kogure repeated, his cheeks getting pink. He was consoled
by a pat on the arm.
Mitsui let out a laugh, shedding the need to
be proper. In just a few sentences, he was sold to the elder’s affable
demeanor, a trait not a lot of old folks he knew had. Not even his own father
was this amicable to him.
“Oi, your grandfather’s right,” Mitsui decided to join in.
“Give yourself some time to enjoy life. We’re not going to be young forever,
you know.”
“Listen to your friend, boy,” Ojii-san urged.
Kogure looked helplessly from one to the other. “I
had a sinking feeling you two will gang up on me once I bring you together,” he
said reproachfully. But the gleam of amusement shone behind his spectacles.
Mitsui was snickering, but he was also
holding back his surprise. Kogure, since the time he
has known him, hardly ever made a joke. More so at his own
expense. This was a side to the vice-captain he never saw before.
Then the grandfather went on to regale them
of his own boyhood, of how he was like his own grandson. He was a man at a much
younger age because of the yoke of responsibilities of being the oldest of
four. He was from a poor family who worked on their landlord’s farm. And
through hard work and perseverance, he put his brother, two sisters, and
himself through high school.
Mitsui had heard of similar stories before,
but found himself listening to his tale. There was
something in the old man’s eyes and the way he spoke that drew him into his
life’s story. It was a hard life, but
there were no regrets. And, thankfully, he made no disparaging remarks about
kids today.
They were so immersed in their conversation
that they didn’t notice Oshin standing at the doorway
until she spoke.
“Dinner is ready, everybody!” she announced,
then scurried off towards the dining room.
They all stood up and followed the old man
towards the room across the hall. The round dining table was already set. The
smells of dinner wafted to their noses, finding themselves inhaling the scent
appreciatively. The ever-present fried chicken and Christmas cake were served,
along with tempura, katsu-don, and sekihan, or red rice. The cake served as the little course’s
centerpiece, the snow-white icing rounded with strawberries and topped with a
small Santa in the middle. Across the other end of the table, Kogure’s grandmother stood and greeted them with a smile.
“It might not be much to your liking,” Kogure said to Mitsui. “But I’m sure you'll like Obaa-san’s cooking.”
Mitsui scowled at him. “Are you kidding?
This is great!” Compared to rehashed
dinner, this is an emperor’s feast, Mitsui didn’t choose to add. He sat in
between Kogure and his grandmother.
“Itadakemas’.”
“Mou, there’s so
much food today!” little Oshin blurted. “I wish it
was a holiday everyday so obaa-san will cook
nice goodies all the time.”
“Well,
then, I’ll cook some for you from time to time,” her grandmother responded.
“Sugoi!” she beamed. “Even Christmas cakes?”
“You know that’s only for Christmas,” Kogure commented.
“But if you don’t put Santa Claus on the
cake, then it’s not a Christmas cake anymore,” she answered with childish
conviction. “Onii-chan,
why don’t they put Hoteiosho on Christmas cakes?”
Kogure seemed at a loss to answer. “I don’t know,”
he said. “Maybe Santa Claus looks nicer on a Christmas cake.”
Mitsui thought the rather absurd answer made
some sense. The traveling priest Hoteiosho shared
equal status with Santa as gift giver to children. But who would want a
pot-bellied monk with rather large ears sitting on a cake when his western
counterpart looked much cuter? He gave a mental shake of the head.
“Do you think he’ll come tonight?” she
asked.
“Have you been good?” It was Ojii-san’s turn to ask.
“Oh, yes!” I’ve been very good!” she gamely
responded, then a pout came over her features. “Maybe
he's forgotten about me. I’ve been behaving last Christmas, but I never got a
present from him.”
“Maybe he got lost trying to find our house
last time,” Kogure reasoned.
“Did you get a present from Hoteiosho?”
“Well, yes, I did. When I
was younger.” Kogure was taken off-guard by
the question.
“Then he should know our house by now.
Besides, how come Sumi-chan
gets her gift from Hoteiosho every year and she just
lives next door?”
The adults glanced at each other, then Kogure decided to answer.
“Perhaps he’s saving a bigger gift for you,”
he said, a wistful look in his eyes. “Hoteiosho never
forgets good children.” He stroked his sister’s head affectionately.
“Really?” Her eyes regained its glimmer, making Kogure smile.
Mitsui quietly observed the exchange between
brother and sister, felt a pang of envy at their closeness. Despite his nonchalant expression, there were times he
sorely yearned for another’s company.
This is bad, he thought wryly. I’m
getting soft.
He took a furtive glance at the
elders. They seemed to be quietly amused by the siblings as well. The couple
stared at each other, he noted the affection in their
eyes. Mitsui painfully looked away and down at his bowl.
“I hope you are having a good
time, Mitsui-kun,” Ojii-san said.
“Oh, yes, thank you,” he said,
looking up with a light grin.
“It’s a good thing your parents
permitted you to join us on this occasion,” Obaa-san
said. “Did they go out for dinner?”
“My father’s still abroad while
my mother’s working tonight,” Mitsui replied. “So no-one’s
home.” He shrugged.
Obaa-san looked slightly aghast. Her
husband didn’t seem fazed by it. But the empathy was in their eyes that Mitsui
deftly glanced away.
“Why? Don’t you like Christmas, Mitsui-niichan?” Oshin asked innocently
“I guess my family is too old to celebrate
it,” Mitsui answered, picking his words carefully in the presence of a child. False hopes and promises.
Why was he doing it, too? Shouldn’t he be telling the elders of the futility
all this is?
“Ah, but that’s where I can’t agree with
you, Mitsui-kun,” Ojii-san
cut in. “Nobody can outgrow the celebration of Christmas.”
Mitsui inhaled deeply. “I have,” he
confessed. “To me, it’s just some foreign tradition I don’t have to follow.”
A hush lorded over the table. He couldn’t
bear the tinge of sadness in Kogure’s face. He felt
the elders’ eyes on him as well, but didn’t dare try to see their faces. Oshin-chan looked deeply perplexed.
“While it is true Christmas holds an exotic
charm for most of us.” It was Ojii-san who breached
the silence. “But to some, it holds a special message universal to all, gaijin or not. And one is hope, to never
let that light of hope die in our hearts and strive to keep it burning.
Otherwise, what else is there for man?
“Another is love. This day is a great
reminder for all of us to cherish those whom we love. And show our appreciation
of how much they enrich our lives.”
Mitsui was silent. He felt a slight twinge in
his chest as a warm glow began to spread within him. The emotions welling were
confusing him: a feeling of quiet contentment and, at the same time, sadness.
Slowly he began to see the significance of this day.
He chanced a glimpse at Kogure.
Pride for his grandfather dominated his features. His own lips tugged to a
smile.
Ojii-san clapped his hands. “Now,” he announced,
“would you be so kind and serve our Christmas cake, Oshin-chan?”
The girl nodded vigorously and stood up, Kogure following her to help. In that moment of
distraction, Mitsui gazed at Ojii-san with a thankful
look, for the wisdom he shared and for the tact of steering the attention from
him. A few more minutes, Mitsui might not have withstood it any longer.
Oshin-chan came up beside him, bearing a plate of
his share of the cake. He was surprised to see the little Santa perched on
slice.
“But,
Oshin-chan,” Mitsui protested with a laugh, “shouldn’t
you get Santa Claus?”
She shook her head with a toothless smile.
“You’re our guest,” she said. She gestured for him to take the plate. Mitsui
took it gratefully.
The conversation was lighter during dessert,
aimlessly drifting from one mundane topic to another. Mitsui contented himself
with quietly listening to the pleasant chatter. His stomach was filled with
good food, his heart is warmed by the kindness of Kogure’s people. For now, he was content.
“Ara, I forgot to call okaa-san,” Mitsui suddenly said.
“The phone is in the hallway,” Kogure spoke up as he continued slicing the cake to hand
out some second helpings. “When you’re done, just join us in the sitting room,
okay?”
He went to the hallway and made the call. It
took some minutes before he was able to speak with his mother. It took a few
minutes more in trying to convince her that he was indeed in Kogure’s home before he hung up. Mitsui paused, and picked
up the phone again.
He returned ten minutes later and found the
family assembled. Presently they looked up at seeing Mitsui enter.
“We were about to start without you,” Kogure joked.
Mitsui was puzzled, but didn’t show it. “You
wouldn’t do that, would you?” he countered with a lopsided grin as he plopped
down beside his teammate.
Ojii-san pulled out a large paper bag behind
him. “I’ll go first,” he said, and began taking out gaily wrapped parcels,
handing them out to their respective recipients: first to his wife, then to his
grandchildren. Obaa-san followed, handed out her
presents. Oshin clapped her hands in glee as she
received her gifts. Mitsui looked on curiously, feeling a little alienated from
the group. Obaa-san noticed the wistful look he wore.
“I hope you come by next year, Mitsui-kun,” she said. “And next time, we will
have something for you.”
He put on a weak smile. “You don’t have to,”
he demurred. “But I sure will come next time.” He caught the smile on the old
man’s face.
“Oi, Kogure,” he said as he turned
to his friend. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”
He gave a knowing grin. “Do you think I
could forget?” he asked. He stood up and left the room, his family looked on
questioningly, then at Mitsui.
Kogure returned shortly, boxes in his arms. He
deposited them on the laps of three astonished people before returning to sit
beside his teammate.
Obaa-san stared at him, her eyes bright. “Miyo,”
she said softly. “You don’t have to…”
“I want to,” he replied. “Go ahead. Open
them.”
They tore at their presents, their faces
lighting up at unraveling the contents. Ojii-san
received a tweed peaked cap, which immediately took the place of the worn one
he had on his head. Obaa-san opened hers to a
colorful knitted shawl. And little Oshin-chan got a heart locket.
“Oooh! So cute!” she cried, hopping across the
room and jumped onto her brother’s lap, giving him a hug. “Thank you so much, onii-chan!”
Kogure smiled down at her, ruffled her hair. “Now do
you understand?” he said cryptically in a low voice that only Mitsui could
hear.
He blinked in confusion, then
comprehension came to his features. He
was right, he thought at seeing the glowing faces around him. It’s all worth it.
He gave a start when he was handed a slim
red and green box. He looked up to see the playful grin on Kogure’s
face.
“How did you—when did you get the time to…”
“I have my ways,” he said evasively. He
opened the gift. A pair of winter gloves.
“I didn’t know what to pick out,” Kogure explained bashfully. “I noticed you didn’t have any
gloves that day. I never saw you wear one, so I thought of getting you one. I
hope it’s okay.”
Mitsui slipped them on. It was a good fit.
He forgot his at home. He always forgets his gloves. Not that
he didn’t mind, but he made do without them. He stared at his gift like
it was the most wonderful thing he saw.
“Shinnen omedeto, my friend.”
He was able to catch himself and responded
warmly, “Shinnen omedeto.”
The winter frost eased slightly the next
day, much to everyone’s relief as the students entered the gates of Shohoku High. One particular youth hurried to the gym. He
needed to get his blood working again. When he entered the locker room, he
found a teammate already there.
“Konnichiwa,”
he greeted his bespectacled teammate. He didn’t respond, and remained staring
distractedly into his open locker. He came over and tapped him on the shoulder.
Kogure’s head jerked up. “Oi, Mitsui,” he said quietly, then offered a small grin.
“You okay?” he said, tilting his head to get
a better view of the other’s face.
“Daijobu,” Kogure assured him. “It’s just that, well, something
strange happened last night.”
“Oh?” Mitsui was genuinely intrigued.
“There was something left at our door a few
hours after you left,” he answered. “They were presents for me and Oshin-chan.”
“Really?” he exclaimed. “Any idea who it’s from?”
Kogure shook his head. “I thought it was some
joke, so I opened both of them. It was a huge toy bear and an NBA jacket,” he
said in quiet awe.
“Wow,” Mitsui whistled. “What did Oshin-chan say
about the gifts?”
“She thinks that Hoteiosho
finally found our house.” He chuckled as he recalled the events. “She was
squealing with glee that Ojii-san came running out
thinking there was an alarm.”
“I should have been there,” Mitsui simply
stated with a self-conscious grin.
OWARI