Kenji and Yuki: A Japanese Tale

By Hailey Sawyer

Meet Yuki Sakamoto.

 

Sixteen, easily distracted, and a runaway. Coping with the loss of her grandma seems like a mountain she struggles to climb. She hasn't even had the courage to visit the family grave she's buried in.

 

After a series of misadventures, she meets another girl in an abandoned house one night.

 

That girl?

 

Kenjiro Furukawa.

 

Seventeen, wired when not on her meds, and resident of the house. The dark strikes fear into her heart. She has a nightlight in almost every room of the house.

 

As the days pass, their connection and feelings for each other strengthen through conversations, stories, and outings. But can these experiences help them rise above their struggles?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Hailey Sawyer
• Release date: Nov 10, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201031985

Hailey Sawyer

Hailey Sawyer is the author of Kenji and Yuki: A Japanese Tale and a proud native Rhode Islander. She has possessed a great interest in learning about Japanese culture since she was about nine or ten years old. When she’s not writing, she loves to read and code.

Book preview

Chapter 1: Stuck

Well, here I am, mindlessly looking through the window. It’s pretty dark out. Despite this, Shinjuku is buzzing with activity. Horns honking every now and then, sleek box-shaped commuter trains speeding by on the elevated railway, dazzling neon signs of all sizes and colors attached to skyscrapers brightly shining down on the sidewalks, and trees swaying in the breeze.

I’m sitting at a marble table in a toasty, brightly lit restaurant and the scent of finely grilled meat wafts through the air. My mouth waters and my stomach growls. Does it taste just as good as it smells? As I continue to stare out this window, I yawn and sigh heavily. I’ve spent quite a bit of time on this test that’s part of this online program called Japan Distance Learning.

According to Aunt Chizuko, it’s a program that allows kids who don’t do well in a regular school environment to get their education from home. When I opened up to Aunt Chizuko about the bullying I was experiencing in 2015 of March, she pulled me out and homeschooled me and as soon as the school year finished later that month, I got put in this program and, like every other kid going to any other school in this country, I started classes the second week of April.

The test I’m working on is in the form of an essay. I’m required to write at least three paragraphs and I can only use the three articles Izumi-sensei provided as sources. However, I plan on writing at least five paragraphs, as I’m really interested in the topic of the essay regarding whether or not kotatsus—these tables with a heavy blanket sandwiched in-between its top surface and legs—can give someone a cold if they stay under them too long. Like, between kotatsus being capable of melting the invisible icicles off me on a cold day thanks to the blanket and little heater underneath and having some science stuff mixed in, it was fucking perfect. After guzzling down three Tenshi Colas earlier, I was able to focus and complete the first four paragraphs without much of an issue.

But at this point, I’m only on the start of the fifth paragraph and I can’t seem to come up with anything else. Come on Yuki you’ve got this. I try reading over what I’ve written so far and hope something comes to me. As I do so though, it seems like something happens every five seconds, such as the sound of a dish breaking or a group of people shouting, Cheers! as loudly as possible, that forces me to turn away from the screen.

Some time later, the bottom right corner of my screen reads, 22:55. 2016/11/10. When I realize that I still have nothing, I slap both of my hands against the sides of my head, close my eyes, and groan quietly. It’s a Thursday and while it’s not due until Sunday, it’s the last thing I have to do this week and I want to get it done by tomorrow so I can enjoy my usual work-free weekend, which basically consists of visiting my friend Kathy-chan on Friday and sleeping all day on Saturday and Sunday.

A little while later, the waitress walks over to my table and looks at three completely empty Tenshi Cola glasses sitting beside my laptop.

Would you like another one, young lady? she asks me, gesturing to one of the glasses.

I turn around, stare at the glasses carefully, and mumble, One... Two... Three. Then another one would make fo— I suddenly stop talking as I start to pant quietly and shake like crazy while my eyes bug out. I turn back to the waitress and laugh awkwardly. Actually, I-I’d like a couple more please.

Okay, the waitress says before swiftly walking away from the table. When she comes back, she hands the Tenshi Colas to me and I place them near the empty glasses. Would you like anything to eat? You’ve been here for at least a few hours.

Thanks, but I’m not really hungry right now, I reply.

She raises an eyebrow. Are you sure?

I say yes and she saunters away from the table. After that, I take a few deep breaths, turn my attention back to the screen, and stare at my essay for a bit. Actually, the other four paragraphs aren’t really that bad. If I delete the beginning of the fifth paragraph, I could just hand it in and— My throat suddenly tightens as my pulse starts banging in my ears. I quickly slap both of my hands against the sides of my head. It’s like there’s a lead weight in my stomach as tears seemingly form in my eyes. What am I thinking? I can’t give him four of anything! Last time I did that to someone, they didn't make it. I couldn’t save them.

I hastily turn to my right when I hear this really deafening sizzling sound. At one of the other tables, there’s this man with short black hair wearing a grey business suit sitting all by himself on a long leather bench. Every time his eyes start to close and his head tilts as far down as it can go, he gasps and jerks his head up.

Like with every other table in the place, there’s a small circular grill built into the middle of his table surrounded by a thick, gold ring. Thin strips of steam float towards the ceiling and at least five or six rectangular pieces of pink and red meat are spread out on the grill. For a while, I keep my eyes fixed on it as I run my tongue back and forth across my lips. When my mouth starts to water though, I sigh and turn back to the screen before chugging one of the Tenshi Colas I just ordered.

When I finish it, I smile and find myself able to keep my eyes easily glued to the screen. I look at the fourth and the beginning of the fifth paragraph rather closely and highlight them, slowly moving my hand over to the backspace button. Before I can actually press it though, I yank it away. No! I worked too long and too hard to come up with them and I’m not letting them go to waste!

I just sit there and stare at the screen quietly. A few moments later, I grin and snap my fingers. I go to my desktop and select the icon for my browser. When the browser opens, I’m taken to a website with a light-grey background. In the middle of the site is an image of this cartoony-looking fox with nine tails holding a wooden sign in its mouth that reads, Kyubi no Kitsune-sama Search.

I click the search bar below the fox and type in the topic of the essay. In less than a second, I’m brought to the search results page. When I scroll down the page, I don’t really see anything until I open up the very last article listed. I get about halfway through the article before this one paragraph catches my eye and when I finish reading this particular part, my eyes light up and I start grinning from ear to ear.

That’s perfect! I whisper. So without any sort of hesitation, I highlight the entire paragraph, copy it, and paste it after the beginning of the fifth paragraph in my essay. After skimming my work for errors, I save it, close the program, and go to the Japan Distance Learning site to submit it. Once I get my assignment out of the way, I laugh and pick up one of the other Tenshi Colas I ordered. I raise the glass up. Here’s to another work-free weekend. Then I guzzle it down.

Suddenly though, I realize I’ve taken someone else’s work and claimed it as my own. My chest and the inside of my head tightens up. My heart begins to pound painfully and my hands start trembling. I frantically search through every page on the website to see if there’s a way to retract my essay. I look on the submissions page, the frequently asked questions page, the technical support page, everywhere. But when I find absolutely nothing, I’m about ready to burst into tears. Before I can do so however, the waitress comes over.

Would you like anything else? she asks.

I’m ready for the check, I tell her.

While she goes to get it, I begin to put all of my stuff into my big blue shoulder bag. When she comes back, she puts the check—which is attached to a tiny yellow clipboard—face down on the table, grabs all of the empty glasses, and leaves. I take the clipboard off the table and the guy in the grey business suit is lying down on the long leather bench with his eyes closed. That guy must’ve worked real hard today. His life isn’t in danger or anything, so I hope no one bothers him.

The counter near the exit has a short line leading to it. Before I get in line, I look at the check. The total is a little below two thousand, five hundred yen not including the service charge. I fish through the pockets of my shorts and the only money I find is a single, one thousand yen bill. I sigh. This can’t be the last of my savings and condolence money already!

I spend about a minute or two trying to figure out what to do. I eventually take out a marker from one of my pockets and write, Dear Cashier-san, I’m sorry. This is all I have right now, in this blank, oval-shaped space in the middle of the bill. Maybe I’ll be in less trouble if I pay at least part of the check.

I then put it on top of the check and get in line. As I stand there, the lady in front of me steps up to the counter with a clipboard just like mine. But after like two seconds, the cashier shudders a bit.

Sorry, didn’t mean to make eye contact, says the lady with the clipboard as she bows.

By the time it’s my turn, my hands start shaking as I stare at the cashier’s neck to avoid eye contact and slowly hand the clipboard to her.

Outside the restaurant, I stop dead in my tracks when I hear a lady’s voice yell, You can’t pay only half the check! That’s not how this works blue bag lady!

I immediately bolt away from the restaurant and fly down at least six flights of stairs. As I make my way down, I glance over my shoulder. The cashier from earlier is right on my ass. At times, I can feel her fingers swipe across the back of my pink zip-up jacket as she tries and fails to grab me.

By the time I reach the third floor, I quickly pull out this small, pink, flower-shaped object from my pocket called a crime prevention buzzer attached to a lanyard and rip out the pin on the bottom of it. The next thing I know, this rapid chirping noise bursts out of it and it’s so loud, that I’m surprised I don’t go deaf from hearing it!

All of a sudden, I stop running and jump out of the way when a guy flies right past me and tackles the cashier to the ground like one of those American Football players Kathy-chan talks about sometimes. I scream and bolt down the rest of the stairs, dropping the buzzer in the process. Once I’m outside, I run down the narrow sidewalk. As I do though, the icy wind blows against me and because of how cold it is, it’s like I’m gradually losing feeling in my fingers and face the longer I run.

After what seems like fifteen minutes, I find myself getting really close to this giant skyscraper that’s mostly made out of reflective glass with a small park to the left of it. Once I pass the glass building, I turn onto this road leading into the park, which has bushes on both sides and long branches from the leafless trees hovering above it. As I make my way up the road, I start looking back on something to kind of ease my nerves a bit.

It was a month prior. I was on my way back to the park when I saw this wrinkly looking woman with a purse and tons of grocery bags waiting to cross the street. So I stopped and asked if she needed help carrying some of them. She said yes and I took a couple of the bags.

I live in that building right there, she said, gesturing to the glass building in front of us.

A short while later, we got onto one of the building’s elevators. On our way to her floor, I put down the grocery bags I was carrying and while I was holding onto the railing facing the doors, she put down her bags and took out some napkins from her purse. She gently ripped them up, taped the pieces onto the buttons with the number four on them, and wrote numbers on the pieces besides that one, followed by a character.

While she was doing this, I remember her whispering something along the lines of, No four. No death, over and over again.

When she was halfway finished with what she was doing, I walked over to her and asked, Is everything okay?

She stopped and turned towards me. I’m so sorry. I’ll take these off right away an—

No that’s okay. I just wanted to say thank you. I mean, just a second ago, I was holding onto that wall railing on the other side of this elevator really tightly and kept thinking of all the ways I could die here. But when you started covering up all the buttons with the number four on them, I started to think that I had a chance of getting out okay.

After I said that, meaning every little bit of it, she was smiling as wide as she could and I think I saw tears sliding down her face before she went back to covering up the buttons.

I stop looking back on it when I get to a more out of the way section of the park. I walk up a tiny staircase leading to a rickety old shack-like building. On the door is a shiny lock that seems like it just got put on. Another lock?

I take a couple bent bobby pins out of my other pocket and put them into the lock. After about a minute or so, it clicks and I’m able to open the door without much of an issue. I’m so glad I read those lockpicking articles online.

Once I close the door behind me, I take a small piece of paper and the marker from earlier out of my other pocket. I unfold the paper which reads, Quick, Successful Lock Picks Since May, and add yet another tally mark to it. I put the marker and paper away and walk towards a bed made of newspaper and whatnot in the center of the place, which is the only furniture besides some boxes that I made into bins for recyclable resources and combustible garbage and whatnot in order to follow Shinjuku’s garbage and recycling separation rules.

When I pass this line on the floor that’s slightly further away from the door, I freeze and look down. I’ve forgotten to remove my worn out sneakers. I quickly jump back and gasp. From an early age, people in this country are taught to remove their shoes before entering a place like a house or something. Fuck. It’s times like this that I wish human brain transplants were real.

So, I take off my shoes, place them to the left of the door, and put on a pair of indoor slippers that I bought for myself some time prior sitting to the right of the door. I then make my way over to the bed and sit down. I open my bag and take out my laptop, along with a pair of headphones which I plug into it. I wonder if there’s any new info on Pocket Monsters Sun and Moon.

I try accessing the Kyubi no Kitsune-sama site and I’m brought to a page with a message that reads, No Internet Connection. I sigh.

Oh. That’s right. No Wi-Fi. Shit, I mutter.

I sift through my bag and pull out this DVD box set that reads Malcolm in The Middle: The Complete Series on the front. I get out one of the DVDs from the set and open it. When I do, this rectangular piece of paper the size of a bookmark, along with another piece of paper, fall out.

On the rectangular paper, there’s a handwritten date on the right that reads, 2016/7/29 with about three different photos of Kathy-chan and I wearing kimonos. She has on a blue kimono and light-blue sash while I have on a purple kimono with a red sash. There’s also a photo of me posing alone and another with just her. As I stare at the photos, my heartbeat speeds up a bit and I start to blush. I then turn my head to the left and right and kiss the photo that just has Kathy-chan in it and giggle.

On the other piece of paper is a note in Japanese that reads, "Happy sixteenth birthday, Yuki! Normally a gift like this box set would be a little expensive by my standards. But today is a very special day for you and since we’ve been really getting into Malcolm in The Middle, I figured this would be perfect. I also figured you could use it as another way to practice your English besides speaking to me and all. I felt that watching Japanese shows was a great addition to my language study plan before I came here."

I open this document titled, "Best Lines from My Favorite Season One Episodes of Malcolm in The Middle (English Practice), switch my keyboard input from Japanese to English, and put the DVD into my laptop’s disc tray soon after. I then select one of my favorite episodes called Stock Car Races," as I haven’t written down any lines for that episode yet, and settle in for the night. For the first third of the episode, I can’t stop laughing and at one point, I have to pause the episode just to catch my breath. While it’s paused, I start typing up a few of the lines I heard so far.

I eventually yawn and lay down. But some time later, I start to shiver. So, I close my eyes and imagine laying under a kotatsu. I also imagine it being super warm. Pretty soon, it seems like I can actually feel the heat and every single part of my body practically becomes super-glued to the bed because, no matter how hard I try, I just can’t move. The next thing I know, I’m out like a light.

A while later, I’m jolted awake when I hear a loud hissing sound.

Snake! I cry. My body stiffens and my teeth begin chattering as my eyes dart from left to right. A few moments later, I jump up, throw my stuff into my bag, and bolt out of there, swiping up my sneakers in the process.

A little while later, I sit down on some grass and put my sneakers back on, throwing the indoor slippers in my bag soon after. I stand back up and just when I’m about to bolt again, I suddenly stop. Wait a minute! Where am I going to go? I could stay with Kathy-chan but I don’t know where she lives. Maybe I should go back to Aunt Chizuko’s house in Nagoya an— No I can’t do that. It’s two and a half hours away from here by train! So, I lay on the ground, using my bag as a pillow, and close my eyes.

Excuse me, are you okay? a somewhat gruff voice asks hours later.

I gasp as my eyes shoot open.

Chapter 2: Rude Awakenings

Excuse me, the voice repeats.

The moment I figure out who and where it’s coming from, my heart starts beating really quickly and I’m practically frozen. Standing over me is a police officer. He’s about like two hundred centimeters tall and seemingly nothing but muscle. I start imagining the guy slamming me against one of the nearby trees and putting a gun right between my eyes before I quickly confess every awful thing I did, including taking someone else’s work and claiming it as my own.

D-Don’t shoot me! I cry.

He laughs and says, Don’t worry. I’m not going to shoot you. If you can believe it, I’ve been an officer for thirteen years now and not once have I ever fired my gun. It’s crazy I know. But then again, we live in a crazy world so... you know.

Oh, okay.

So, are you alright? What’s going on? I ask because I was on my way to my favorite spot for my lunch break and you looked, um, unwell.

I keep my mouth shut for about a minute, trying to come up with something to say other than the actual reason. I eventually blurt out a half truth. Oh! Look, I-I’m so sorry. See, I have awful anxiety and sometimes it gets so bad, I-I can’t really eat.

Ah. I see. I hope things improve for you.

Th-Thank you. By the way, d-do you know what time it is?

The officer pulls his phone from his pocket and looks at it for a moment before saying, 11:30. It’s also a Frida—

I’m late for an appointment! I shout as I bolt away from him.

I’m not entirely wrong about the appointment thing either. Noon is when Kathy-chan usually finishes her Friday shifts at the McDonald’s she works at. I remember her telling me a while ago that, if it were up to her, all of them would end a lot later than that.

About fifteen minutes later, I stop to catch my breath when I find myself in front of the McDonald’s on this clean, tiled, super narrow street. Its entrance is on the right of the street and is squished between a convenience store called Daily Yamazaki and what I believe to be an office building. Once I look behind me and realize that the officer didn’t follow me or anything, I wipe my forehead with the back of my hand and breathe a sigh of relief.

Before I go inside the McDonald’s though, I take out this Pocket Monsters themed pencil case that has a bunch of Pikachus on it from my bag, pull out a comb, and quickly fix my hair a bit. Shortly after, I put everything away and enter the McDonald’s and walk up the