Mariko tops a glass of soju, leaving it in front of the empty barstool. I glance at the clock. Fourteen minutes late. Better to wait one more to round it out.
A few boys from the Ivy League college pass by, laughing as they swing open the izakaya’s door, letting it clang behind them. No one in the izakaya reacts, but the atmosphere stiffens. They settle into a booth, ordering in loud English. I grit my teeth. Sixteen minutes. Damn.
This time Mariko looks up as I enter, a smirk playing over her features as she pours me another glass. "It's Friday, Maro."
I drink. "As the calendar declares, yes."
"The second Friday of the month."
"Yes, certainly, there are several."
She pours me another glass.
I drink.
"Eight years of putting up with you, and this is the treatment I receive?"
"If you like, I could take my business to any other establishment on this block. None of the Americans or Italians or Mexicans would even bat an eye."
"Don't be cheeky with me. No one else runs a business like mine," she chastises, pouring me a fourth glass, of sake this time.
The boys in the booth erupt once more in raucous laughter. Half of the boys are red with laughter, the other from alcohol.
"Why would you let them drink, Mari-chan?"
She scowls. "If you want to call me that, you should have ended things differently. Besides, those boys are celebrating a birthday. Look, you see the one in white there?"
I glance over. "They're all white."
"The one wearing white, aho. They've placed a crown on his head. Today, he is legally an adult."
While she stares at the group, I grab the bottle of sake and help myself to another glass. "It's not like you check identification anyhow."
She laughs mirthlessly. "How much are you drinking tonight? Is there a reason you haven't given me my shipment yet?"
"I don't come here for the chatter."
"And I don't pay good money for you to drink my establishment dry." She takes the half-empty bottle back, filling the rest with water.
"Is that a threat? Be careful, Mariko."
She says nothing, walking over to the boys instead and pouring them the diluted drink. One of them grabs her by the hand, forehead red and sweaty. He gestures to the 'birthday boy' across from him. "Mary, look! He got a tattoo!"
The other boy leans back, a self-assured smile guided by alcohol sneaks onto his face. "Indeed. You might not be able to tell, but I'm one-fifth Japanese. By getting this tattoo, I'm basically in the yakuza!"
His table guffaws, releasing Mariko. The other patrons turn their quiet gazes towards my visage.
I say nothing, staring at the empty glass in my hands. The regulars should know better. Mariko tilts her head, her unflattering bob concealing her expression. She nods at the calendar on the wall. I shake my head. She raises her eyebrows, and turns her attention back to the boys.
"That man over there has some impressive tattoos. I'm sure he'd be willing to show you."
I stand up from my chair—a foolish decision, as this only draws further attention to me. Birthday Boy stands up as well, a fearless smile bracing his face. Talk about aho.
I march towards the door, but Birthday Boy grabs my arm before I can make my escape. "C'mon, man, it's my birthday!"
I scowl and shake his hand off my arm. I turn once more.
"What, do you not speak English? Konbanwa, ojisan! See, I know some Japanese. Um, tattoo wo mimasuka?"
I grimace at his mangled words. "Don't bother me, kid."
He smiles, putting himself between me and the door. His friends have now gathered behind me, forming a circle. I try to edge through, but he places a preventative hand on my chest. Fed up, I shove him away from the door. His paper crown flutters to the floor. Instantly, his friends are onme, throwing drunken punches and managing to land a few. Normally I would have thrown them off of me to avoid the altercation, but the five drinks hit me almost as quickly as I'm hitting the lanky college boys. It doesn't take long for most of the boys to land on the ground, too drunk to continue fighting. I let my guard down, and Birthday Boy tears my jacket from my body, revealing my bare arms underneath. Everyone pauses, and the watching patrons collectively take a deep breath.
Mariko laughs, bringing the attention over to her. "Oh, didn't I mention? Yamaguchi-san here also has a history with the yakuza."
The door's bell tinkles as someone new walks in. "Sorry I'm late, guys! But I brought the piñata!" He holds the pink donkey high above his head, a baseball bat held in the other.
Birthday Boy snatches the bat from him, turning his gaze towards me. I edge towards the bar. If I can get my hands on the empty bottle of soju, it would make for an easy weapon. So much for trying to keep a low profile.
To my utter disbelief, Birthday Boy extends the bat towards me, bowing his head. "Ojisan. I want you to make the first hit. Let bygones be bygones."
I grip the bat, staring at the boy holding the piñata. He smiles, climbs a chair, and affixes it to a hook in the ceiling meant for a light fixture. My attack to the piñata does not visibly damage it. I pass the bat back and slink into the background, pulling my jacket back on. Within minutes, the boys have forgotten the whole affair, and are lining up to pummel the candy-filled craft.
I stand outside by the doorway with Mariko, the two of us sharing my last cigarette. "Was that nonsense necessary, Mariko? You know it wouldn't be difficult for me to close this place down, or worse."
She takes a drag. "You won't. Those boys will brag about this encounter to their friends, but they would never try to report you. And the regulars use your services, too. As long as you pull through, you won't have anything to worry about." She passes the cigarette, letting her fingers trail over my hand. "I can't run my backyard business without any crank. What's the holdup?"
I sigh. "Your need to know everything is the reason things ended between us, you know. Learn to trust me."
"It's called self-preservation. And the reason things ended between us is because you left for five years without telling me."
"Yeah, well. The lack of trust hurts." I heed to her glare. "There was a sudden demand in Japan, which is unusual. Our clients overseas are considerably less important."
She rolls her eyes. "I'm still Japanese, Maro. I only left because things were getting dangerous. I guess I'm satisfied. You don't have to bother paying your tab—seeing you getting humiliated was enough payment for me."
I tuck my hands into my coat pockets. "What about the payment of a ring?"
"Aho. Don't be a fool."
I fumble with the ring for a few moments, but ultimately leave it sitting in my pocket. "You always were the wise one, Mari-chan. Make sure to wish that boy a happy birthday from me."
"You're leaving?"
"Yes. But don’t worry. This time, it won't be for five years."
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