We stood there.

Sayako decided to knock on the presumed Minoru household’s door. Who else is Cambodian in this place? It would be quite the luck for another Cambodian family to be living here.

Sayako said “Hello! We’re looking for Minoru Kikuchi-san, we’re his classmates!”

A small child answered the door. He resembled a much younger version of Kikuchi Minoru. I assume he was his little brother.

“Dad! There’s two people at the door!”

A disgruntled voice responded.

“Tell them to leave! No need for advance rent for a month.”

“Dad! I think they’re Kikuchi-nii’s classmates! They’re wearing the same uniform as him.”

“Alright, tell them to wait then.”

Before Sayako and I, was a middle-aged man. I would’ve guessed early 40s. He looked severely stressed. Cigarette smoke oozed from his vest. Still, he kept himself clean. It looked as if he left the shower and you could smell some perfume escaping his figure. Not shaven, however. Both his haircut and beard were unkempt. It appeared to me that he had whisker-like hairs on his cheek. One look at his eyes told me all about him. He was probably tired of life.

“So. What are you two here for?”

Me and Sayako just looked at each other. I am not speaking to him. Nope. As luck would have it, Sayako had mind-reading skills for this exact moment.

She spoke in a deeply formal tone.

“My name is Nakanami Sayako. I’m the class representative for Kikuchi’s class. I was told by my teacher to send him some work for today and tomorrow since he’s been suspended for an incident. Nice to meet you.”

In a slightly American-like accent, the assumed father of Kikuchi Minoru responded.

“Nice to meet you, Sayako-chan. Would you like some snacks inside? What about you, young man? You are?”

He directed his question at me. My heart slightly froze for a moment. I despise talking. Conversations and socialisation are mere ways to force people to be vulnerable. Communication sucks.

“My name is Fukaze Honzo. The kanji is written weirdly. It’s ‘bad wind’ and ‘seeds’ I’m also a classmate of your son.”

He tapped me on the shoulder. What a friendly person. Both of us said the typical greetings as we took our shoes off. Kikuchi’s father… I think? Well, this man came and greeted us with a lot of hospitality. He told us that Kikuchi was out, buying food and shopping, but it had taken some time.

Sadly, the flat looked a bit unkempt. There were books on the floor, two trash bags next to them, and several chipped-off paint. Kikuchi’s little brother appeared, reading a few children's manga, whilst the TV was playing in the background. It appeared to be some NHK news show. I don’t think that’s particularly family-friendly.

We sat at their wooden table, by the kitchen top. For a Cambodian flag outside, and Kikuchi-san… wait since both his father and younger brother are technically ‘Kikuchi-san’ I’ll have to think of him as Minoru-san. Damn. Anyways, despite Minoru-san’s proud identity as a Cambodian-American, this just looks like your typical Japanese household.

You couldn’t really tell. Matter of fact, I’m pretty sure his father was Japanese. Did Kikuchi-san have an identity crisis? Sorry, I meant Minoru-san. That always struck me as a bit weird, but I decided to not really think about it. One is free to identify as who they want to, of course, but… apart from speaking Khmer, Kikuchi-san is basically American. Am I being intolerant or rude? I think I am, but I do feel like it’s certainly weird.

Identity and self. I’m pretty sure they are different things. I might have a disorder that affects my sense of self and my surroundings, but I know what I identify as. Actually, come to think about it. I don’t really know.

Come to think of it, I forgot Minoru-san had tattoos? Is that even a thing in Southeast Asia? At least in Cambodia, I’m trying not to be judgmental but surely it’s not allowed to have the Buddha tattooed on them, right? Especially in a prominent area such as their chest. Whatever. I respect Minoru-san, regardless.

“Are you two doing well in school?” asked Minoru-san’s father.

Sayako was the first to respond. “Yeah, I’m doing fine. Haven’t failed so far in the first year, so I’m hoping to aim to be in the top quarters this year.”

The rumbling sound of the kettle had settled after one click.

“That’s good to hear, Sayako. What about you? Erm, Hanzo?” He said, pouring the hot water onto tea leaves. That’s not my name, by the way.

Sayako gave a light chuckle. A gave her a stern stare before I responded.

“It’s Honzo, sir. Not Hanzo.” I replied politely but unyielding.

In a remorseful tone, the man said “I apologize, Honzo-kun. I’m a bit absentminded with names.”

You know what, he clearly is Minoru’s father. At least, personality-wise. Just a bit more wiser and reserved.

“I’m doing well in school. I could be doing better, but I could always be doing worse. I’d say I’m fine.” I spoke.

“That’s nice to hear, you two. Can you two help out my boy in school? I know you guys came here to give work to him, but I feel like he’s been… falling back into old habits, shall we say.”

He handed us the tea, and a bit of fried bananas on a side dish. Those looked golden and sugary. Yum. Next, he spoke again.

“You see, I moved back here 5 years ago, from the United States. My biggest regret is not being amicable or friendly with him for the past few years. I’m going to be honest to you two, even though we’ve just met, since I have a feeling that I won’t be here for longer.”

“Go on, then.” Said Sayako, she said in a whimper.

I nodded too.

“You see. I was born in the United States. Both of my parents, actually, still live there. In Los Angeles. They plan on retiring and not coming back to Aichi. We’re from the mountains, you see, not Nagoya. I was a bit of a troubled young man when I was in my teens. Just a year or a bit older than you are. I met Minoru’s mother at a party. I won’t overshare, but we had him and Jun-kun. We were always on and off, and then when Minoru was 10, I stopped talking and dropped all communication.”

What a heartless guy. Is speaking to two strangers your way of removing your guilt? I’m not impressed, nor am I really moved. Sayako seemed interested, at least.

“I’m sure you’ve heard that Minoru’s mother was killed. Where they’re from, is a treacherous place. Seriously. She was shot and murdered in front of Minoru. The next week, his uncles were arrested in a vengeance murder. His relatives, still in Long Beach, asked me to look after him. He agreed too. I contacted the lawyer if he was allowed to live here, some paperwork, and he’s here now.”

Sayako exclaimed, “Wow. I’m really sorry to hear about that.” I stood there silent, just thinking about the whole situation.

“He’s also lost two or three childhood friends since he came here to Nagoya. That area, Cambodia Town, is not really a safe area. He knows that, but he still feels the need to portray himself as a hardened man. He’s not. Minoru is a troubled young man. Someone in this neighbourhood died of an asthma attack. I’m sure you’ve seen the memorial. Sometimes, I pay my respects, even though I didn’t know the young man. Minoru was pretty hurt by it. Even though he was older, Minoru was always on the lookout for everyone in this area. Due to some issues, this place had some problems with other areas and a few racist attacks due to a lot of non-Japanese people here. Minoru thinks he was chased by some other boys at a McDonalds, and died by the playground. The police don’t think so.”

That sounds like the Minoru that I know. I had to ask if he knew why his son was suspended.

“Do you know the incident that got your son off from school?” I questioned.

“Yes. Or at least what he told me. He said he was defending someone from a racist insult. He knows that he shouldn’t have fought back, but he felt the need to.”

Sayako, after sipping her tea and chewing the banana cue, spoke up.

“That’s it! Your son was justified. Everyone knows the school is a bit biased towards actions like that, but most of the school population agree with it.”

Sayako’s right. If anything, most of Year 2 would view him as a hero. The defender’s friends would be outcasted if they tried to defend him, so nothing much has been said.

“I agree. But past a certain point, you just become content with issues like that. He really shouldn’t have done anything, but I guess it’s what happens in life. Minoru is really proud of who he has become, so I just give him space. I want you two, or at least let some people you know, to look out for him. I want him to succeed in school. Live a normal life. Trauma will always heal. No one should carry it forever. Otherwise, how could people develop or do anything? That’s my take on it, but I recognize that I am growing weary and pessimistic on many things, so it could always change.”

Maybe his deadbeat father is right? But then again, he’s not a deadbeat father anymore. He actually stepped up when his children’s mother was gone from their lives. If I remember correctly, Minoru still visits the US every year - or at least is keeping that streak.

Thinking about it, I also disagree with that ‘Trauma will always heal’ comment. Not really, to be honest.

We sat for a bit, and then Minoru-san knocked on the door. His brother, I assume his name was Jun, opened it.

Minoru-san first looked at Sayako. I think he was really surprised. Maybe, you could see some tinge of redness on his face. Kidding. There’s no way this guy likes Sayako… I think. Then he drooped his eyebrows, once he saw me. Look, this guy needs to make his mind up whether he either likes or dislikes me.

Sayako was the first to speak.

“Oh, hello Minoru-san! We’re just here to deliver some work from Tateishi-sensei and we were just making conversation. We’ll be on our leave now, I suppose.”

I think the finished plates and half-filled tea kinda betray what Sayako was saying. Oh well. The tension rose as soon as the door was opened.

“Is it so, well, hello Honzo, and Sayako, and I guess bye as well too. I suppose I’ll see you on Thursday.”

In Minoru’s bag were cassava, yams, garlic, and sweet potatoes. That seems nice. Although, I’m sure he had to travel far to get those ingredients.

Both Sayako and I bowed to the Kikuchi family. We also waved goodbye to the younger Kikuchi, who seemed to be absorbed in the manga he was reading. He said, “Bye bye, cute couple!” I instantly denied it. Sayako seemed a bit upset or hurt that I rejected that suggestion quickly. Whatever. We made our way back to Oe Station.