Min Lee - Pachinko

“And who were you out with last night?” Goro asked.

Mozasu smiled.

“You know I was here until the closing. Then I went home.”

“So you didn’t even chase Kayoko around the kitchen?”

“No.” Mozasu laughed.

“Ah, yes, I suppose that was me. Poor girl. She is so very ticklish. Not bad looking and will one day have a fine figure, but for now, she is too young. One day, someone will buy her some rouge and powder, and she will leave us. And so this is the way of women.”

Mozasu couldn’t understand why his boss would be interested in the kitchen girl when he regularly escorted actresses and dancers.

“Kayoko is perfectly suitable for tickling, however. She has a cute laugh.” Goro knocked against Mozasu’s knee with his own. “You know, Mozasu, I like having you kids here. It makes this place feel more jolly.” Goro kept Mozasu at the main shop because he had a wonderful energy about him. Goro could now afford to hire enough employees in all his shops. It wasn’t that long ago that, as a new owner, he did the same work Mozasu did. Goro looked up and down at the boy and frowned.

Mozasu looked at his boss, puzzled.

“You wear the same white shirt and black trousers each day. You look clean, but you look like a janitor. You have two shirts and two pairs of trousers. Isn’t that so?” Goro said this kindly.

“Yes, sir.” Mozasu glanced down. His mother had ironed his shirt the night before. He didn’t look bad, but Goro-san was right — he didn’t look important. There was no extra money for clothing. After food, tutoring, and transportation, Uncle Yoseb’s doctor’s bills ate up all their spare cash. He’d been getting worse and remained in bed most of the day.

“You need some more clothes. Let’s go.” Goro shouted, “Kayo-chan, I’m going to go out with Mozasu for a few minutes. Don’t let anyone in. Okay?”

“Yes, sir,” Kayoko shouted from the kitchen.

“But I need to put the trays of balls out and sweep the front. The machines need to be cleaned, and I wanted to help Kayoko with the hand towels—” Mozasu listed his morning duties, but his boss was already at the door.

“Mozasu, come on! I don’t have all day. You can’t look like that anymore!” he shouted, while smiling, not the least bit ruffled by the boy’s confusion.

The woman who answered the small wooden door was surprised to see the tall boy standing by her customer, Goro-san.

Mozasu recognized Haruki’s mother immediately. He’d never been to his friend’s house before but had met her on the street several times, and Haruki had introduced her to him.

“Totoyama-san! Hello.” Mozasu bowed deep from the waist.

“Mozasu-san, hello. Welcome. I’d heard that you were working for Goro-san.”

Goro smiled. “He is a good boy. I’m sorry to come so early, Totoyama-san, but Mozasu needs a few things.”

As Mozasu entered, he was surprised by the smallness of the living quarters. The space was a third the size of his house. It was basically one small room divided by a wall-to-wall screen — the front part held the sewing machine, dressmakers’ dummies, work table, and fabrics. Some sort of sandalwood incense covered the shoyu and mirin smells from cooking. The room was meticulously clean. It was hard to believe that Haruki lived somewhere so cramped with his mother and brother. Seeing this made him miss his friend more. Mozasu had not seen Haruki since he left school and started work.

“Mozasu is going to be my new morning foreman. My youngest one yet.”

“ Ehh ?” Mozasu said out loud.

“But a foreman cannot look like the boy who cleans the machines and passes out hand towels and cups of tea,” Goro said. “Totoyama-san, please make him two proper jackets and matching trousers.”

Totoyama nodded gravely, unspooling her measuring tape to gauge the size of his shoulders and arms. With a stubby pencil, she took notes on a pad made out of used wrapping paper.

“Mama! Mama! Can I come out now?”

It was the voice of a larger male but with the pleading tone of a small boy.

“Excuse me. My son is curious. We don’t usually have customers so early in the morning.”

Goro-san waved her away, letting her check on her son.

When she left the room, Goro made a sad face. “The boy is—”

Mozasu nodded, because he knew about Haruki’s younger brother. It had been almost six months since he had last seen Haruki, who was still in school. Haruki wanted to become a police officer. Neither had realized that school had made their relationship possible until one of them left; there’d been no chance to see him since Mozasu worked all the time.

The sliding walls between the rooms were made of paper and thin slats of wood, and Goro and Mozasu could hear everything.

“Daisuke-chan, Mama will be right back, nee ? I’m in the next room. You can hear me, nee ?”

“Mama, is brother back home from school?”

“No, no, Daisuke-chan. Haruki left only an hour ago. We must wait for him patiently. He will not be home until much later. Mama has to make some jackets for Haruki’s good friend. Can you stay here and do your puzzle?”

“Is this Mozasu-san?”

Startled at hearing his name, Mozasu glanced at the closed screen door.

“I want to meet him, Mama. This is the Korean boy. Can I meet him, please? Brother said Mozasu curses. I want to hear that!” Daisuke burst out laughing.

Goro patted Mozasu’s back as if he was trying to assure him somehow. Mozasu could feel Goro’s sympathy and kindness.

“Oh, Mama! Mama! I want to meet the Korean friend. Oh, Mama, please?”

Suddenly, it got quiet, and Totoyama’s voice lowered to a low murmur like a bird cooing. “Daisuke-chan, Daisuke-chan, Daisuke-chan,” she chanted. Haruki’s mother repeated his name until the boy quieted.

“You should stay here and do your puzzle and help Mama. Okay? You are my good child. Haruki will be home in a few hours. He will want to see your progress on your puzzles.”

“Yes, Mama, yes. I will play with my top first. Then I will do my puzzles. Can we have rice today, do you think? If we have customers, can we have rice? Sometimes you buy rice when we have customers. I want a big rice ball, Mama.”

“Later, Daisuke-chan. We will talk later. Daisuke-chan, Daisuke-chan, Daisuke-chan,” she murmured.

Totoyama returned to the room and apologized. Goro said it was nothing. For the first time, Mozasu saw that Goro could look troubled. He smiled a lot at Totoyama, but his downward-sloping eyes showed his anguish at the sight of her stoic yet gentle face.

“Maybe you should make the boy two jackets, two sets of trousers, and a proper winter coat. He is always wearing some shabby thing. I want my customers to see that the employees of my shops are neat and well dressed.”

Goro-san handed her some bills, and Mozasu turned away. He looked for signs of his friend in the tiny room, but there were no photographs, books, or images. There was a portrait-sized mirror on the wall beside the curtained dressing area.

“I will send Kayoko later today so you can make her something that matches Mozasu’s uniform. I think they should wear a striped tie or some striped thing that matches each other. I saw that in a Tokyo parlor last month. She should wear a neat dress with an apron. Maybe the apron could be striped. What do you think? Well, I leave that to you. She should have two or three uniforms made. They should be sturdy.” Goro peeled off some more bills and put them in her hands.

Totoyama bowed and bowed again. “It is too much,” she said, looking at the money.

Goro gestured to Mozasu. “We should go back now. The customers will be itchy to touch their machines!”