Hunt for the Bamboo Rat Read online

  “That’s what worries me.”

  A few days later, Zenji sat in shorts and T-shirt on the back porch watching Aiko chase Nami around the yard. The dog’s limp was just about gone. He’d been with them almost a month now.

  “Time to take him back to Ken,” Zenji said.

  Aiko looked up.

  “He’s better, Aiko.”

  “Not fair,” she said. “He goes, then you go.”

  “I’ll write you.”

  “It’s not the same.”

  “Yeah. I know.”

  Aiko came to sit beside him, their shoulders touching. Zenji crossed his arms over his knees. The house behind him felt like a ten-ton boulder on his back.

  Ma was not speaking to him.

  And now he’d quit his job at the harbor. Zenji had told Mr. Santos he’d joined the army and would be shipping out soon.

  Mr. Santos had slapped Zenji’s back. “Buck private, huh? You gotta start somewhere. You’ll do well, Zenji. I’m impressed.”

  But Ma wasn’t. Ignoring Zenji, she complained to Henry and Aiko at dinner. “Don’t waste food. We have to live with less now.”

  “Ma, I’m going to send you all my pay. I promise.”

  Ma wouldn’t look at him.

  There was even a new poem on the kitchen wall. Zenji and Henry had read it together.

  Rice

  Does not

  Fall from sky

  Like rain. Be thankful

  And eat with

  Hearts of

  Gratitude.

  Henry tapped it with a finger. “You know she’s not upset about the money. She’s upset about you going.” He sighed. “It’s hard for her to let go, Zenji. Even of a lazybones like you.”

  Zenji stared at Ma’s poem.

  “Here’s some advice Nick picked up at Schofield: in the army, never volunteer for anything. It could get you killed.”

  “Don’t the officers just volunteer you?”

  “Well, there is that.”

  Now, Nami whined, his tail wagging as he looked at Zenji and Aiko.

  “Come here, little warrior.” Zenji set Nami on the step beside him. “I’m going to miss this place, Aiko.”

  “Then don’t go.”

  “I have to.”

  Zenji lifted Nami into his lap. “When did the world go so crazy, little buddy? You and me, we were just minding our own business, huh?” Nami licked his hand. He wondered who the other recruit was, the one he’d be going to Manila with. He cringed, remembering Ma’s reaction when he’d told her he would be leaving for the Philippines.

  She’d fallen into a chair. “You’re different from them, Zenji-kun,” she pleaded. “They will cut you. They will attack you in the night.”

  “No, Ma, no. Where do you get such ideas?”

  “Tell that colonel to send you somewhere else.”

  Zenji had to convince her that it was impossible to change anything. He’d be just fine. “All I’m going to do is read things and listen to the radio. Filipinos are good people just like us, Ma.”

  She had looked at him, gotten up, and gone outside to work in her garden, clumps of dirt flying.

  Zenji had watched from the window.

  He hadn’t gotten a word out of her since.

  After a week of listening to Japanese radio at the Federal Building, hearing only music and meaningless chatter, Zenji went to the library to study up on the Philippines—Manila was the capital and was more than five thousand miles from Honolulu; the United States got the Philippines from Spain in 1898 after the Spanish-American War.

  And Ma was right. There were cannibals and headhunters in the deep jungles.

  What? He checked the book’s publication date: 1916. Things must have changed since then.

  He checked the map and found that Manila was only nine hundred miles from Okinawa. Ma would like that. And he would tell her that the Philippines were called the “Pearl of the Orient.” That sounded good, too.

  Still, her words stuck: They will cut you. They will attack you in the night.

  He shut the book.

  What have I done?

  Three days before he was to ship out, Zenji knocked on Ken’s door. When his mother answered, she beamed and reached out to Nami, who scooted close and licked her hand.

  “Ken!” she called. “Ken!”

  She hugged Zenji hard, catching him by surprise.

  Ken pushed around his mother. “Nami! Nami!”

  The dog leaped up, licking his face, whining.

  Zenji felt a happy sadness. “Good as new. Got a little limp, is all.”

  Ken looked up, his smile wide.

  His mother bowed. “You are welcome at our house, always.”

  Zenji nodded. “Thank you.”

  When Zenji headed to the street, Nami followed. Zenji picked him up and carried him back to Ken. “This is your house, little warrior. But you will always be with me, I promise.”

  Zenji walked away, head down, kicking pebbles, his mind swirling with questions.

  Little warrior.

  Was joining the army the right thing to do? Was it worth hurting Ma? Making her worry? Making her stop talking to him? Would the army help him figure out what to do with his life? Or should he have become a Buddhist priest?

  He snorted. He’d never make it as a priest. He could probably think like them; but he sure couldn’t live like they did, so simply.

  He needed more … excitement.

  And that’s what he got when Henry came home that night. “Listen up, Buck Private. Tomorrow night, me and Tosh are throwing you a shipping-out party … and we got you a date!”

  Her name was Mina.

  She was barely seventeen, and Zenji had known her all his life.

  Sort of.

  Their fathers had worked together at Pearl Harbor, and though they’d rarely seen each other outside of work, Mina’s family had come to Pop’s funeral. Zenji remembered how grateful Ma had been for their thoughtfulness.

  Mina was a year behind, a senior at McKinley High.

  She looked different than she had in school. Grown up. High heels, a red dress.

  The first thing Zenji noticed were her eyes, shining, almost sparkling. And her lips. Red, like her dress. And her perfume.

  Zenji, Henry, and Henry’s new girlfriend, Lois, had just arrived at Tosh’s party of eight couples, all Japanese. Zenji’s friends didn’t mix much with other races. Big-band music filled the front room, cleared out so people could dance. Tosh’s parents had retreated to a back room for the evening.

  “You remember Mina from school, right?” Tosh said.

  Zenji nodded.

  Mina smiled and reached out her hand. “Nice to see you again, Zenji.”

  Her hand was warm and silky soft, but her grip was strong. “Yeah,” he said. “It’s been a while.”

  Heat brushed across his face. Set-up dates were weird, but at least he knew her.

  “You like to dance, Zenji?” Mina said, still smiling … as if no one else was standing there with them. “Swing?”

  “Well, uh … I never, you know, tried it.”

  “Oh my,” she said. “I can see I have some work to do.”

  No! He was not dancing!

  Mina grabbed his hand. “Come. I’ll show you.”

  “But—”

  Tosh put his hands to his face in fake horror.

  Zenji stumbled around, following Mina’s patient lead. His clumsiness didn’t seem to bother her at all. The dance grew wild and fast. And fun. He actually caught on.

  “Well, look at you,” Mina said. “You’re a natural dancer!”

  “You think so?”

  “I know so.”

  Henry winked and Tosh cracked up, but Zenji didn’t care. He was having more fun than he’d had in months.

  After a while, he and Mina went outside to cool off. The night was warm, with stars like diamonds tossed across the sky.

  “Thank you for being a good sport,” Mina said. “Some guys won’t even
try dancing.”

  “A few days ago that would have been me.”

  “So what changed?”

  He shrugged. “Well, for one, you’re kind of hard to say no to.”

  Mina laughed. “You’re funny.”

  “And you’ve grown up. You used to just be … a kid.”

  “It happens.”

  Zenji grinned.

  “Naomi told me you joined the army.”

  “That’s supposed to be a secret.”

  “Why?”

  “They told me not to talk about it.”

  He wanted to tell her about the Pearl of the Orient and ask her if she thought there were still people around who ate other people, and what she thought about Filipinos and machetes.

  Instead, he turned toward the house and the sounds of Tosh’s party. “I really like that music.”

  “Benny Goodman.”

  “He’s good.”

  “My favorite.”

  “Want to go back in?”

  “Not unless we have to.”

  “No, we don’t … have to.”

  She gave him a gentle push. “How come we never got to know each other?”

  He grinned. “I was too … handsome?”

  That made her laugh, loud and friendly. “Well, even though you were too good-looking, I liked you anyway.”

  “You did?”

  “Remember … your dad’s funeral?”

  Zenji looked down. “You were there.”

  “You came up to my father and shook his hand,” she said.

  “He made Ma feel better, just by being there.”

  “My father talked about you for days, saying you were an eight-year-old who acted like a grown man. An old soul, he said, and very strong.”

  Zenji smiled. “So what about you? After high school, what?”

  “I’m going to be a nurse.”

  He nodded. “You’ll be a good one.”

  Surprising Zenji, Mina hooked her arm in his. “Thank you, Zenji Watanabe.”

  “Yeah, sure.”

  They were silent for a while, standing together in the yard. Zenji wondered where his nervousness about girls had gone. He felt as if he and Mina had been friends for a long time.

  So strange.

  “It’s too bad,” Mina said.

  “What is?”

  “You, going away. I mean, after seeing you around all my life, I’m finally just getting to know you. And more important, who am I going to dance with?”

  Zenji laughed. “Lots of guys.”

  She was quiet for a moment. A light breeze rustled the trees in Tosh’s yard. Mina gave his arm a squeeze.

  “Can I write to you?”

  His heart jumped. “Yes! I mean … sure.”

  The next night, the evening before Zenji was to ship out, he poked his head out of the kitchen when he heard Ma talking to someone at the front door. “I know you,” she said. “The Tamashiro girl. Your daddy worked with my husband.”

  Wow, Zenji thought, smiling.

  Mina bowed, holding a mango pie, fresh out of the oven. “It’s good to see you again, Mrs. Watanabe.”

  Ma held the door open. “Please, come inside.”

  Mina kicked off her wooden sandals and left them on the porch as Aiko appeared next to Zenji.

  Mina beamed at them. “I can’t stay long, but I thought you’d all like something sweet to honor Zenji’s departure.”

  Aiko turned to Zenji. “Your girlfriend?” she whispered.

  Zenji shook his head, but he was still smiling. No girl had ever paid this kind of attention to him.

  Mina held out the pie as he crossed the room. “I hope you like mango.”

  Zenji took it. “I love mango … but you didn’t have to—”

  “I wanted to.”

  “Thank her, you idiot,” Aiko said.

  Zenji laughed, and bowed ceremoniously. “Thank you!

  Mina, this is my sister, Aiko.”

  “Hello, Aiko.”

  “Zenji didn’t tell me he had a girlf—”

  “Mina,” Zenji said, stepping in front of Aiko. “Please. Have some pie!”

  “No, I can’t stay. I just wanted to say … not goodbye, but I hope you come back soon … from …”

  Zenji looked down. “I’m not supposed to say where.”

  She nodded.

  He put down the pie and stepped outside with Mina.

  “Well,” Mina said, slipping on her sandals, “I like your sister. She watches out for you.”

  “She’s a good kid.”

  Mina leaned in and boldly kissed Zenji on the cheek. “Remember me.”

  She was gone before he could recover.

  “Whoa!” Aiko said. “Your first girlfriend!”

  “She’s not my … She was at Tosh’s party. She’s nice, isn’t she?”

  “That pie looks good,” Aiko said. “Can I have some?”

  “You stay home,” Ma said. “No need to go to Manila. You have a nice girl now. You don’t need army.”

  * * *

  At 7:45 a.m. the next day, September 7, 1941, Colonel Blake arrived at Zenji’s house to drive him to the harbor.

  Zenji had packed his few clothes in an old suitcase and a duffel bag that the colonel had given him. No uniform or military papers, nothing to link him to the army.

  Henry, Aiko, and Ma walked Zenji out to the street. Henry had taken the day off, his first ever. “Be brave, little brother,” he said, putting both hands on Zenji’s shoulders. “When you’re afraid, don’t show it. Make your family proud … for Pop. Be like him, and Ma. Tough! Tough is good! Tough like the great samurai, like me!” Henry tried to laugh, but couldn’t.

  Zenji gazed deep into Henry’s eyes, wanting him to see, to know without question that he would never bring shame on his family or his country. “Fear will never control me, big brother.”

  Henry nodded.

  When they reached the car, Ma finally broke down. “My son, my son,” she said, her eyes filled with tears. “I know there is no war … but there is talk of war, everywhere. I’m afraid for you, Zenji-kun.”

  “Don’t worry, Ma, I—”

  She put her hand up to stop him. “Shhh.”

  He nodded, and looked deep into her eyes.

  Aiko hooked her arm in Zenji’s and laid her head on his shoulder. Henry pulled Ma close.

  “Remember this,” Ma said, standing tall. “Your father and his brothers all served in the Japanese Army. You must be like them. Wherever you go and whatever you do, serve your country with courage and honor.”

  Zenji knew what she was saying: Death is more acceptable than cowardice. Nothing is more important than the honor of the family. Do not bring shame upon the Watanabe name.

  Zenji took his mother’s hands in his. “No matter what happens, Ma, there’s no way I’ll return in disgrace. I promise you.”

  She patted his shoulder, the closest she would come to showing affection outside the house. “Come home to us, Zenji-kun.”

  “I will, Ma. Please don’t worry about me.”

  Ma pressed a folded piece of paper into his hand. “Read later.”

  Zenji stuck the note in his pocket. The weight in his heart was almost unbearable. He hugged her, right out in the open.

  Then Zenji hugged Aiko, squeezing her tight. “Stay close to Ma,” he whispered. “She’s strong, but she’ll need you. Save her poems, too, so I can read them when I get back.”

  “And when will that be?”

  “Next blue moon?” He smiled.

  “Don’t say that!”

  “I’ll write you, and you write back, okay? Lots of letters! Tell me everything you do. I’m going to miss you!”

  “Zenji—I put some of Mina’s pie in your bag. I wrapped it really well, and …”

  He hugged her hard. “You’re the best.”

  He shook hands with Henry, gave him a quick embrace. They stood back and looked at each other. They didn’t need words.

  Zenji turned to Colonel Blake.
“I’m ready, sir.”

  Colonel Blake touched his forehead in a two-finger salute to Henry. He bowed to Aiko and Ma.

  As they drove away, Zenji looked back one last time.

  Henry and Ma stood straight and still, Henry with an arm around Ma’s shoulders.

  Only Aiko waved.

  The colors, sounds, and smells of his neighborhood poured in through the car window as they drove toward his mysterious new life. For the first time he understood the saying “You never know what you have until you lose it.”

  Still, he was traveling to a new world.

  He wished he’d asked Mina for her address. She’d wanted to write, but to where? He’d find a way to send her his address when he got it. He couldn’t stop thinking about her. She was so easy to be with, and she cared about him.

  Zenji pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. Was he doing the right thing?

  “Doing okay, Zenji?”

  “Yes, sir. But … I’m going to miss my family and … and my friends.”

  “Of course.”

  It was exciting, but also strange. Didn’t all soldiers need some basic skills first, like Henry’s friends were getting at Schofield Barracks? All he had were his orders: ship out.

  Good thing he’d trained in JROTC.

  “Colonel, how come I’m not going to boot camp first like everyone else?”

  “You’ll get the training you need in Manila. Remember, your work will be different.”

  “Right, thank you.”

  Ahead, the harbor was light green and flat as a pond. Zenji snorted. I wanted to travel and see the world, and now my palms are sweating. He wiped them on his pants.

  The colonel glanced at him. “You take care of yourself in Manila, Zenji. Use your head.”

  “I will, sir.”

  “You have a good future ahead of you, and I’ll be here to help you when you get back.”

  Zenji looked at the colonel, trying to let him know how grateful he was. “I’ll always remember what you taught me, sir.”

  Colonel Blake nodded and turned down the road to the pier.

  The wharf buzzed with activity—people, trucks, forklifts. Zenji could see the warehouse where he’d worked.

  They parked and sat looking at the two ships alongside the pier. One was Zenji’s.

  The colonel dipped his head toward them. “Make your way on board without being conspicuous. Act like an ordinary traveler. They’re expecting you. Someone will meet you on deck and tell you what to do.”