Zero Sum Game Page 3

  The apartment had been quiet when she had left in the morning; her father had already left for the day, and she wouldn't see him again until that afternoon. Her father worked as a conductor for the bullet train, called the Shinkansen in Japanese. He operated the early morning runs on the Sanyo line between Hakata and Shin-Osaka. Because he had to be at work at five in the morning, he went to bed long before Hina did. Her weightlifting training didn't end until late afternoon, so she saw her father for only a short time in the evening.

  Thinking of him brought to mind today's chore. She would be going back to school, her second year of junior high, in a few days and she had yet to buy her uniform. She had been busy during summer vacation, and her father's work schedule had prevented him from going with her to buy it. Today would almost be her last chance to buy her uniform. Like her father, she had a habit of doing things at the last minute, something that had driven her mother crazy.

  She hoped her mother was doing fine in Fukuoka. The divorce hadn't been bitter or long, but it had been a divorce nonetheless. In a rare move, Hina's father Mitsuo had been awarded custody because her mother Risako had not fought for it. Hina was glad, she had always been closer to her father than her mother (she knew she wasn't supposed to choose a "favorite", but she did like her father better), and after the paper signing and legal work, her mother had moved to Fukuoka while Hina and her father stayed in Hiroshima.

  Without her mother's financial income, there would be no way her father could continue paying the rent and utilities in their apartment. Two weeks before summer vacation ended, Hina and her father had moved to a cheaper apartment: a two-bedroom on the fourth floor in a building with no elevator. It was smaller than their last place and much older, but closer to her school than her nicer-but-more-expensive former home.

  As the belongings had been separated and packed for two different dwellings, Hina realized her school uniforms, both the summer and winter versions, had been shipped to Fukuoka to her mother's. She had called to explain the situation, but her mother had told her she wouldn't be able to go through all her belongings in time to send the uniforms back before the start of the new school term. Hina would have to buy two new uniforms. Being summer now, she would only buy her summer uniform. Her father told her that by the time winter came, her mother would be able to send back her winter uniform. If not, they could go together to buy another one.

  Closing her email, Hina texted another friend, Rena. Rena responded immediately. Hina texted her back; she walked with her head down, her focus drifting more and more into the conversation, her thumb a blur over the touchscreen keyboard. Her pace slowed and her purse made wide arcs off her arm as it dangled. Hina smiled as Rena complained about how her little brother would be a first-year next year and in the same school as her; now she would see him 24 hours a day. Hina lost track of her surroundings as the 8.8 centimeter screen took up her focus. She tuned out the world around her.

  A sharp tug on her purse strap pulled her back to reality and off her feet. She dropped her iPhone. Its plastic-meeting-ground tinkling was followed by the deeper thud of Hina hitting the pavement. She managed to land on her butt, arms out behind her, palms downwards. She didn't know what happened and looked up for an answer. A young man ran fast, Hina's purse trailing behind him as he clutched its strap.

  After the initial shock, she yelled at the top of her lungs. The young man didn't even glance behind him as he sprinted. Hina rose to her feet and ran after him. She yelled again, and when she saw other pedestrians, she screamed, "Help! He stole my purse! Help me! Help me!"

  Most people gasped and yelped in surprise as the man ran past them. No one tried to stop him. Hina couldn't believe what was happening. She ran as fast as she could, but the man had a head start on her and he threaded around slower moving people like a professional race car driver passing his opponents. Hina's heart pounded, not only from the physical exertion, but because almost her whole life was in that purse: her train pass, her bus card, her makeup, and her money. She focused on the young man. He wore jeans and a t-shirt with an unbuttoned business-style long-sleeved shirt over it that billowed behind him as he ran. On his head sat a silver and black baseball cap with the bill pulled to one side.

  Hina's hope of regaining her purse rose when she saw one Good Samaritan step into the purse-snatcher's path. The thief rammed into the young man. The man backpedaled, arms pin wheeling, trying to keep his balance. He backed into a thin pole holding an advertising banner and tripped backwards, falling to his side. The thief in the black and silver cap spun around, and for a brief moment Hina glimpsed his face: plain, unadorned, quite ordinary and forgettable. She wondered whether she would recognize him if she saw him again in different clothes.

  The young man turned and sprinted around the corner. Hina, huffing and feeling a stitch in her side, turned the corner, but the thief rounded another corner and disappeared from sight.

  — — —

  Hina didn't react when she heard the rattle of the front door. She lay in her bedroom on her fluffy bright pink rug, a wet spot darkening its cheerful design as Hina buried her face in its fuzziness. Her arms covered her ears and she held onto her ponytail. She shook as she cried.

  "I'm home," her father said.

  Hina couldn't manage a reply to the ritualistic greeting. Her bedroom was only a few steps from the apartment's tiny foyer. Her father's face lost its welcoming smile and he took off his shoes in a hurry. He rushed in and knelt beside her.

  "Hina? What is it?"

  She didn't answer.

  "Hina?" He pulled her up by her shoulders, and she wrapped her arms around his chest and buried her face in his neck. She held him in a tight embrace, and he struggled to breathe. Hina hated to admit it, but her father was a somewhat weak man; she was stronger than him and had the trophies to prove it. He turned his head to one side to get the stray hairs of her ponytail out of his mouth. She held him for a few moments longer, crying and sniffing.

  She let go and he looked her over. Her eyes burned, her vision wavered, and she sniffed in short quick bursts. "Hina? What's wrong? Are you okay?"

  She grabbed her iPhone and held it in both hands against her chest. She gripped it so hard she wondered if she would break the cover. In rapid-fire fits, punctuated by tear wiping and sniffles, unnecessary details about who she texted and why, and visiting Ami's taiyaki shop, she told him about the purse snatching. When she finished, her shoulders slumped and her eyes were cast downwards.

  "Is that all?" he said.

  She shot her gaze up. Her father looked relieved, not upset and angry as she had expected. Why isn't he mad at me? she wondered.

  "You're okay, aren't you? Are you all right? Do you need to go to the hospital?" These questions came out in a rush. Hina shook her head 'no'. He asked, "Did you tell the police?"

  She nodded and ground the heel of her hand into each eye to wipe away the tears. "I went to the nearest police box. They said they've been having a lot of purse snatching and muggings lately. They can't catch whoever is doing it."

  "Do they have any ideas who it might be or anything?" her father asked.

  Hina sniffed. "They think it's some high school boys. But they don't know for sure, and he ran so fast and he took everything." She looked at the iPhone clutched in her hands. "He surprised me. I'd been so focused on texting with Rena, and then I fell and I tried to chase him, I really did, but he was too fast for me. Someone tried to help but he got hurt. The thief pushed him into some stuff. After that, we both went to the police box."

  "What about the man who tried to help you?"

  "He's okay. He wasn't hurt very bad." She checked herself. "Neither am I."

  Her father leaned back and sighed.

  "Aren't you mad?" she asked in confusion. When he shook his head in the negative, she asked, "But…what about my stuff? My money…"

  He shook his head again. "It's okay. You're okay. You're…" He paused, and Hina wondered what he had planned on saying. "You're okay," he repeated and smiled at her.

  She smiled back, then her eyes went wide in shock and her mouth formed an ''O". She drew in a sharp intake of air. "The money for the uniform," she said. "He took it. What are we going to do? I have school tomorrow."

  "We can call the principal and explain the situation." Her father looked at his watch. It was past six, and Hina wondered if anybody would still be at Hiroshima City Junior High School.

  "We can pick one up after school tomorrow. I'll go with you this time. We'll make sure you'll get it." He took out his cell phone. "I'm sorry about this, Hina."

  He stood and left her room. She stared at the spot he had occupied beside her. He couldn't afford a second uniform, they were expensive. Hina's style of uniform cost almost forty-thousand yen. After the divorce, her dad had explained they need to be tighter with money. She understood, and agreed to cut back on her fashion and magazines. But, she had said, he would have to cut back on his baseball goods. Although a die-hard Fukuoka SoftBank Hawks fan, he had acquiesced; her mother had often complained about the amount of money he spent on Hawks merchandise. He, on the other hand, had never complained about her hobbies, no matter how expensive they had been.

  Hina stood and walked into the living room. Her father paced in the small tatami mat room. His left hand wrapped itself under his right armpit, as if he was giving himself a one-armed hug. Her mother always told him not to cross his arms, it made him appear defensive and small. When he saw Hina, he dropped his arm to his side and stood a little straighter.

  She heard a tiny voice emanate from the phone's speaker, but it was too muffled to make out any words. Her father said, "Hello. This is Mitsuo Takamachi, Hina Takamachi's father. May I speak to the vice-principal or head teacher?"

  He paused as Hina
presumed someone, maybe Ota-san, the school secretary, got someone in charge. Her father patted Hina's shoulder and said, "Go take a nap." Hina nodded and returned to her room.

  When her father had found her on the floor of her bedroom, he may have wondered if there had been a robbery, if she had been home when a burglar had broken in. She thought if there had been a robbery, her father wouldn't have noticed a difference. He had let the unpacking go on too long, there were still some boxes remaining. He'd vowed to finish it up this weekend. They had been here two weeks, and almost nothing had been done to make it feel like home.

  That wasn't true, she thought. All her belongings were unpacked and put away, but there were still stacks of broken down and flattened boxes all tied together with twine. Trash pickup for boxes was once a month, and it had been before the Takamachis had arrived, so they would still have a few more days before they could rid of them. Her father's bedroom was next to hers and had some unpacked boxes; if she knew her father, he would still be unpacking on the morning of cardboard pickup day.

  Hina found a tissue and patted her eyes, trying not to smear her makeup any more than it already was. She wondered if her father would call her mother. She entertained the notion that if her mother had sent back her uniforms, this wouldn't be happening. Everything would be okay, they would only be dealing with lost valuables. But she didn't believe that. It wasn't her fault. If her father called her now, her mother would tell him to deal with it, she couldn't do anything about it from Fukuoka.

  She could almost hear her mother say, "Straighten up." It had been her way of telling Hina's father to become tougher, be more of a man, to stop being so easy-going and gullible.

  There came a gentle knock on her bedroom door. "Hina?" he said from the other side, "I have your head teacher on the phone. Mr. Kumamoto. He wants to know if you have your gym clothes."

  "Yeah," she answered. "I've been wearing them to weightlifting all summer."

  She heard him repeat it to Mr. Kumamoto as he walked back to the kitchen. If students went to the school for any reason, they had to wear either their uniform or their gym clothes. Everyday clothes were not allowed on school grounds. In fact, nothing that wasn't related to being in school or studying was allowed, except books for reading. Hina dreaded that she might have to borrow an old used uniform from the school.

  After a few moments, he knocked gently on Hina's door. "I'll wash your clothes now."

  Hina lay on her bed and took her father's advice about napping without meaning to. After messaging Ami about the events of the day, she put her phone on her table, rolled onto her side, and fell asleep.

  She woke up to the loud bang of a pot and pan hitting each other, followed by several quieter clangs. Her father was making dinner, trying to keep the noise level down so she could sleep. Hina heard the TV, the low volume muffled and indistinct behind her bedroom wall. It sounded like a variety show; she heard laughter and the ding-ding of someone answering a question correctly, followed by applause.

  She lay on her back and stared at the ceiling. She felt better than she had earlier; if her father was cooking, then it must be about five o'clock. He often went to bed about eight or nine because he had to get up early for work.

  An electronic tone issued from her phone; she had a new email. She sat up, grabbed it off the table and opened the mail app. It was from Ami, saying how scary the situation was and asking if she wanted her to come over to comfort her. Hina replied that she was kind for offering to do such a thing, but she wanted to be left alone for a little while. She promised to email her again before she went to bed.

  She slid her door open and walked into the living room. In the kitchen her father wore his Hawks jersey, and the smell of dinner rolled through the air. He turned with two dinner plates in his hands and jumped when he saw her. He put the plates on the table and smiled. "I didn't hear you," he said.

  She smiled back. "I just woke up,"

  "Are you feeling better?"

  "A little." She went to the legless couch in the living room and sat, staring at the TV without seeing it.

  Her father continued making dinner in silence. The shock of the purse snatching had worn off, and now Hina felt angry. She had given her address and cell phone number to the officer at the police box; he had said that if they found her purse they would call her and she could come back to get it. But they told her not to hold out hope, they rarely retrieved the items. Most of the time they found the wallets and purses several days later, strewn on the ground, valuables and money taken out and the personal belongings left behind. A total stranger was going through her possessions. He was violating her, touching things that belonged to her and her alone, items he had no right to. The thoughtlessness of the act angered her too. He was looking at pictures of her friends, makeup she had bought with her mother, and he didn't care about any of the memories or feelings associated with those objects. He had wanted something that wasn't his and took it from her.

  Trying to calm herself, she focused on the TV. The variety show ended and the news came on. She watched the main report about a research submarine for the Japan Agency for Marine-Earth Science and Technology that had docked at Hiroshima Port last night, where it would berth for several days. Later, the sub would continue its journey to the Arctic Circle for earthquake research. Boring, she thought. She flipped through the channels, hoping to catch Music Station or SMAPxSMAP on.

  She still fumed about the thief.

  CHAPTER 5

  Hina was sure she would die of embarrassment. She stood in place at Hiroshima City Junior High School's second term opening assembly. She clenched her fists at her side and hunched her shoulders further. She wondered if she could make herself small enough to disappear into her gym clothes so the other kids wouldn't stare at her.

  Principal Nakatani took the podium at the center of the gym's stage.

  "Attention," the student council president called out.

  Hina stood parade straight.

  "Bow," the student ordered.

  Hina did, along with all the other students. Principal Nakatani returned the bow.

  "Sit down," the student council president ordered. Hina and the students sat on the hard gym floor, feet flat, knees up. Hina brought her knees closer to her chest and wrapped her arms around them, trying again to shrink herself as much as possible.

  As the principal began his speech, Hina looked at the teachers and staff standing along the sides of the gymnasium. Most had their eyes on the principal, but some watched the students to make sure they paid attention. The teachers went down the rows and corrected a student's lazy posture; they would tap their knees and force them to sit upright, legs together and feet flat.

  Looking to her right, Hina saw a man she didn't recognize among the teachers. He was young, about early or mid-twenties, with dark hair and small, rectangular glasses. He wore a dark suit, even in the heat, but seemed unfazed by the temperature in the gym. His nose was hooked and he stood straight, with the same bearing military men or butlers had. He had a handsome face. Hina wondered what he was doing here. He must be a new teacher but he didn't have a teacher aura. He seemed…cooler than that.

  As Principal Nakatani continued his speech, Hina looked around at the other students. All of them were in their school uniform. The boys wore black pants and long-sleeved black coats with large gold buttons and stiff upright collars ringed on the inside in white. The uniforms were thick and heavy; every summer at least one student collapsed from heat exhaustion during the opening ceremony.

  The girls' uniforms consisted of pale blue short-sleeved shirts, blue bow-like ribbons at the base of their necks, and dark blue skirts. They wore dark blue socks that came to mid-calf, with small red carps adorned one side near the tops. When the other students had asked why Hina was wearing her gym clothes, she avoided answering. She didn't mention the purse snatching or the divorce that had caused her clothes to end up in Fukuoka. Not even Ami knew that her parents had divorced. She had told Ami she had moved but never explained why. Hina herself was still trying to sort it out; she didn't want to be bombarded with questions she couldn't answer. Also, as far as Hina knew, she was the only one of her friends who had divorced parents. Somehow, telling everyone seemed like it would make the situation worse, as if it would mark her or make her stand out in some horrible way.