Tokyo Surprise Page 2

  “It’s fantastic!” she said. “It’s just like me. You really are talented. I would love to have a copy.”

  “I’ll make you one,” said Josh. “I could do it in colour.” He tried his best not to blush.

  “Here,” Kiki said, borrowing Jessica’s pen. She turned over the portrait and wrote something on the back. Josh realized it was an address. He felt a grin spread across his face. Jessica was looking at him with wide, gleeful eyes. “I’ve liked hanging out with you – why don’t you bring the copy round to my apartment? I’ll take you to see the Ro Ningyokan! Just tell security you’re there to see Minnie Mouse, and they’ll know I invited you.”

  “Wow!” Jessica said, her voice going squeaky with excitement. “Cool!” Kiki gave her a hug and shook Josh’s hand, and then the bodyguard was suddenly at their side, ushering them back to their seats.

  They passed the flight attendant, who did a spectacular double take to see Jessica going back to her standard class seat. Jessica smiled sweetly, and Josh bowed low, sorry to have tricked her earlier. He clutched his sketchpad, and Jessica kept reading through her notes.

  “I don’t believe it,” she whispered. “Kiki invited us over to her apartment!”

  “We’ve already talked our way in to speak to a pop idol and we’re not even out of Europe yet,” Josh said, looking out of the window and seeing green, damp-looking fields below. “This could be the best trip ever.”

  Granny Murata was waiting for them at the Arrivals Gate. She looked serious. As always, she was dressed traditionally, in a lilac kimono printed with climbing vines and little white flowers, tied with a wide silk sash. Her thin arms were folded neatly in front of her.

  “Hi, Granny,” said Jessica, as they wheeled their suitcases over to her.

  One of Granny’s eyebrows twitched. “Ohayō gozaimasu, Josh-kun, Jessica-chan,” she said in formal Japanese.

  “Ohayō, Granny,” Josh replied. Granny gave him a piercing stare. “I mean, obaasan,” he added quickly. Granny Murata nodded curtly.

  “I received an e-mail from your parents. They have arrived safely in Africa. They bring much honour on our family with their work there.”

  “We’re very proud, obaasan,” Jessica said, with a little bow. Granny nodded again.

  “Tsuitekite,” she commanded. Jessica picked up her suitcase immediately, but it took Josh another second to realize that she’d told them to follow her. As Granny turned to lead them to the car park, he sighed. She was going to want them to talk in Japanese all summer. On the walk through the airport to Granny’s battered old Toyota, Josh tried to read the signs written in complicated kanji, but they looked more like intricate spider webs than words.

  The Toyota juddered into life and Granny Murata started to pull out of the parking spot. Suddenly Josh and Jessica were thrown forward in their seats as Granny slammed on the brakes and the car creaked to a halt. Josh looked up to find a bright yellow electric hybrid car swerving to avoid their front bumper. He recognized the driver with a jolt – it was the bodyguard again.

  He shot Granny a filthy look as he drove past, and Josh wished someone would put him in his place. Jessica elbowed Josh, and pointed. One of the tinted windows was rolled down and they could see Kiki in the back seat. The twins waved. Kiki spotted them and waved back.

  “Hasty young people,” Granny Murata said. “They will be the ruin of Japan.”

  She continued to mutter under her breath as the Toyota pulled away from the airport car park.

  Soon Josh found himself looking out at the Tokyo skyline, and knew he was going to have a great summer, even if he did have to sit through some tea ceremony lessons. Tokyo was so cool – the mad combination of skyscrapers and ancient Japanese architecture was like living on another planet. The car pulled up to an intersection where a man in a smart black uniform with pristine white gloves was standing in the middle of the traffic directing cars. Josh grinned as they passed the man and drove on towards Minato Ward. He spotted a skyscraper he’d seen being destroyed by demons in a manga last week. Maybe if Godzilla stomped Granny’s house before they got there...

  “Hey, look.” Jessica pointed out of the window. A billboard up ahead showed a poster advertising Banzai Banzai Benzaiten – on both sides were Japanese cheering girls waving red and blue fans, and in the middle was a silhouette of a girl and a question mark above her head. Josh and Jessica grinned at each other.

  “Pffft,” said Granny Murata. “Modern music turns children into hooligans.” Josh tried to imagine Kiki’s happy pop music turning anyone into a hooligan. Maybe they would daub graffiti hearts and flowers all over the walls?

  They passed the Imperial Palace, with people jogging along the paths, and soon Granny’s apartment building loomed into view. Josh let out a sigh. The Sakura Apartments were “a haven of peace and tranquillity” where elderly ladies and gentlemen could live in total uninterrupted boredom. The security system scanned the car as they waited to be admitted to the car park. Probably checking for people trying to smuggle fun into the building, Josh thought. After the sensors had turned away from the car, Granny drove up to a bleeping screen. He had been through this several times now but he never quite got used to the way his and Jessica’s faces appeared on the screen, or the polite Japanese voice that asked Granny to confirm they were her guests.

  As they climbed out of the old Toyota, Granny bowed to another old lady who was shuffling past them towards the elevator. She looked like a walking mummy to Josh – her hands were wrapped in bandages, and she wore a slightly overlarge blue kimono.

  “Ohayō gozaimasu, Sachiko-san,” Granny said. The old lady called Sachiko turned and bowed back.

  “Ohayō, Murata-san,” she said. “These are your English grandchildren?”

  “Hai.” Granny turned to the twins. “Josh-kun, Jessica-chan, this is Sachiko-san.”

  “Hajimemashite, Sachiko-san,” Josh and Jessica chorused, bowing. Sachiko beamed at them, showing off a single tooth.

  “How sweet,” she told Granny. Granny made a “hmph” noise, not exactly a yes or a no.

  They followed Sachiko into the lift with their bags and began to rise up through the building towards Granny’s apartment on the third floor. Another set of lasers scanned the lift as they reached the second floor. Josh wondered what treasures these elderly people were keeping in their apartments, to need this sort of security. Maybe one of Granny’s neighbours was a billionaire.

  As they entered Granny’s apartment, Josh, Jessica and Granny all stopped on the special rug to swap their shoes for soft white slippers. Josh was surprised that his slippers were new, and they fitted perfectly. Granny must have asked his parents what his shoe size was. Typical Granny – he would have happily walked around in his socks, but she thought of everything.

  “I shall prepare your lunch,” said Granny. “You can go to your rooms and unpack your things.”

  “Dōmō arigatō, obaasan,” said Jessica.

  As Granny bowed to Jessica, Josh thought he caught a glimpse of her stony face cracking into a smile.

  Granny’s apartment was large and mostly empty, decorated in traditional Japanese style with clean lines and simple colours, and no clutter anywhere. The whole apartment was pretty much the opposite of his room at home, which usually looked like a comic book and a samurai movie had had a fight to the death and nobody had cleaned up afterwards.

  Several visits ago, Jessica had claimed the corner room with the big window and the ancient cedarwood tansu chest as hers, so Josh made himself comfortable in the other room, dropping his bag onto the end of the neat futon and kicking off his slippers. There was a giant bookshelf all along one wall of the room, and a desk with an antique lamp sitting on it.

  Josh reached into his bag and dug around until he found the little padded case that carried his portable games console and its discs. He hoped he’d be able to get some serious gaming in this summer. He flicked the switch and the console screen lit up, then gave a sad little woop and went da
rk again. The battery must be dead. Josh looked at his charger, with its three rectangular pins, then back at the Japanese socket with its two rounded holes. He sighed. He knew exactly where his converter was. It was sitting on his bedside table, in London. Groaning, Josh put the console back in its case.

  If he didn’t have his video games, he was going to have to find something else to occupy his time until Granny’s lessons began. He wandered up to the bookshelf that he’d never paid much attention to before and looked at the spines of the books. He’d expected them all to be written in kanji, but now that he looked at them some were actually in English and looked really cool. He spotted a big leather bound book called A History of the Samurai and opened it. The front page was taken up with a huge, intricately detailed painting of the samurai warlord Mōri Motonari and his pirate allies sailing to the island of Miyajima.

  Josh left the book on the desk and looked at some of the others. To his surprise, there were plenty of interesting books hidden amongst the etiquette and gardening manuals. He laid some out on the floor so he could look at them all together. Then he spotted another book that looked much older than the rest. Its spine was made of red leather with intricate gold and silver vines worked into its surface. The title was in kanji, but he recognized the words “Ninja” and “Secrets” from a manga he’d tried to translate once. Now that’s a book worth reading! He prised it out from between two thick tomes on tax collection in the Edo period – and then something caught his eye.

  Instead of a blank wall behind the book, he found himself looking at a small blinking red light. That was weird. Could it be a fire alarm, or some kind of electrical safety switch? Why would it be hidden behind the books? Puzzled, he lifted down one of the tax collection books, and spotted a small metal panel set into the wall. Except it wasn’t actually the wall – the whole back of the bookcase seemed to be made of metal.

  “That is weird,” he muttered. He pulled some more books off the shelves, until he could see the whole panel. It had the blinking red light on one side, a darkened green bulb on the other, and a keypad in the middle with numbers on it, both in kanji and English. Josh blinked at it for a second, in case he was hallucinating. But no, he wasn’t imagining things. It was clearly and without doubt the keypad to open some kind of secret safe.

  “Hey,” said a voice. “Whatcha doing?”

  “Nothing!” Josh squealed, whirling round and doing his best to cover the empty bookshelves with his outstretched arms.

  Jessica gave him a suspicious look. “What did you break?” Josh let out a sigh of relief. He could tell Jess would get the truth out of him somehow.

  “Nothing, really,” Josh protested. “Look.”

  Jessica peered into the bookshelf. “Huh,” she said.

  “Is that all you can say? It’s a secret safe!”

  “Josh, you saw the laser scanners and the guards on the lobby, right?” Jessica shrugged. “This place is full of security tech. It’s a luxury retirement home for the extremely paranoid.”

  “But what would Granny keep in a safe like this? You’re not curious?”

  “Come on, Josh,” Jessica rolled her eyes. “This is Granny Murata we’re talking about. She only figured out e-mail a few months ago. She probably doesn’t use it.” Josh looked back at the safe. “I’m going to see if lunch is ready,” Jessica said. “Cool books, though.”

  Maybe Jessica was right about the safe, but Josh didn’t think so. He felt as though he’d walked straight into the pages of a comic book. There could be anything in that safe. And why did Granny live here anyway, if not for security? Something is definitely in there, Josh thought, looking back at the safe. And I’m going to find out what.

  “Have you finished unpacking?”

  Granny Murata! Josh turned to find Granny standing in his doorway.

  “Umm...” Josh hesitated, then kicked himself for looking so guilty. He hadn’t heard Granny arrive – in those soft indoor shoes she could move like a ninja. “Yes,” he said, “I’ve finished.” Oh, lying to Granny, he thought to himself. Very smooth.

  “Good,” Granny said. “I would like you to visit a friend of mine before lunch.” Josh froze. That didn’t sound good. “Mr. Yamamoto is eighty-five years old, mostly confined to his bed, and his children do not come to see him often – he would enjoy a visit from a young man such as yourself.”

  Josh contemplated an afternoon spent with a bedridden eighty-five-year-old Japanese stranger, and wondered if it was too late to jump in the Pacific Ocean and swim back to England.

  Mr. Yamamoto’s apartment was on the floor below Granny Murata’s. Josh knocked softly, half hoping the old man might be asleep. But he clearly heard a voice call out “Come in!” and found that the door wasn’t locked.

  “No luck,” Josh muttered as he stepped inside.

  The layout of the apartment was much like Granny Murata’s, but there were a lot more things in it – the sitting room was crowded with cabinets filled with ornaments and random objects, and two big tables piled with papers and odd electrical gadgets. Josh slid his shoes off.

  He peered into what he guessed might be a bedroom. He was right – all around the walls there were more cluttered cabinets, and in the middle of the room was a large bed with a small bald man lying in it, blinking happily at him.

  “Josh-kun, am I right?” he asked.

  “Yes,” Josh said. “Konnichiwa, Yamamoto-san,” he added, bowing.

  “Come here, let me see you,” said Mr. Yamamoto, raising one bony hand and beckoning him over. “My eyes are not what they used to be. Sit, sit.” He gestured to a seat beside the bed.

  Close up, Mr. Yamamoto was tanned and extremely wrinkled, like a piece of old leather that had been stretched, left out in the rain and then dried out again. He smelled of old stale tobacco.

  “My second wife was English, you know.” Mr. Yamamoto smiled broadly, revealing a set of slightly overlarge false teeth. “Fine woman. You know what she did for a living?” Josh opened his mouth, but the old man ploughed straight on, a dreamy look coming over his face. “She was a ballerina. When she retired she ran children’s parties. Or...” His face crinkled up with thought. “...was that Josette? My third wife. She was French, very tall, made the most amazing bento...not as beautiful as Haruhi.”

  Josh realized Mr. Yamamoto was looking at him expectantly. His attention had wandered. He had been gazing out of the window over the Tokyo skyline, imagining superheroes swinging between the buildings, fighting to bring down a giant robot army.

  He dragged his brain back to the conversation.

  “Haruhi,” he said. “Was that your first wife?”

  “Fourth,” said Mr. Yamamoto, grinning broadly. “Now she really was special... Do something for me, Josh-kun,” he said. “Pass me a spoonful of that rice.” Josh picked up the bowl of rice that sat on the table beside Mr. Yamamoto’s bed, and scooped up some of the rice using its wide china spoon. He was about to try to pass the spoon to the old man, when he realized Mr. Yamamoto wasn’t moving to take it. “My hands shake,” he said, lifting his chin expectantly.

  Josh gingerly raised the spoon to Mr. Yamamoto’s wrinkled lips. The old man leaned forwards and wrapped his lips around the spoon. But then Josh didn’t know what to do – should he wait for the old man to swallow, or should he try to pull the spoon away, or what? He went for pulling away. It was the wrong thing to do. A thin line of rice and dribble splatted onto Mr. Yamamoto’s front.

  “Oh, sorry!” Josh grimaced, grabbing a tissue from a box beside the rice bowl and trying to wipe the rice away without making it worse. “Sumimasen, Yamamoto-san!” But to Josh’s relief, Mr. Yamamoto didn’t look angry – he laughed.

  “That’s all right, Josh-kun. Let’s leave the rice for now. Where was I? Oh, Josette. She was a beauty. She made flowers...” Mr. Yamamoto yawned. “... out of silk, and...she was a pilot...or was that Chiyoko? Dear Chiyoko...always smelled of... engine oil...”

  Josh waited for the rest of the sentenc
e, but it never came. Mr. Yamamoto’s head fell back on the pillow and he was soon snoring like a motorbike revving up in a wind tunnel.

  Once again, Josh found himself looking for something to do. There were lots of very old books on the shelves, ancient things with fabric flaking off their spines. But unlike Granny Murata’s nice neat bookshelves, these were stacked in messy, teetering piles, and in between them there was a forest of...stuff. It looked like junk to Josh. There were scraps of paper, tiny porcelain models of birds and fish, a bunch of silk flowers that Josh guessed were made by Josette – or was it Haruhi? – a sadly tattered collection of old ribbons, a pair of gleaming kama...

  ...Kama? Josh blinked and rubbed his eyes, but there they were – two silvery weapons, like the miniature scythes that farmers used to harvest crops, half-hidden under an old porcelain dragon with several fangs missing. They looked clean and razor-sharp, as if they’d been polished yesterday. Josh glanced back at Mr. Yamamoto. He was still snoring and now drooling slightly.

  Maybe they’re not really as sharp as they look, Josh thought. But then his eyes strayed over to another cabinet, and there was a pair of nunchaku with bright silver swans painted on their sides. Now that he was looking, he could spot sai daggers sticking out of a vase, and polished wooden tonfa being used to prop up a wobbly shelf. He peered closer and reached up to open the cabinet. He’d never seen these things outside movies and manga – what were they doing in the apartment of a little old man, hidden under a load of strange old junk?

  “What...” Mr. Yamamoto spluttered. Josh jumped, and tried to look like he hadn’t been snooping. The old man sighed and continued as if he hadn’t fallen asleep. “Oh yes, the smell of engine oil – that’s what I remember. Good old Chiyoko.” The old man went on, and Josh sidled back across the room and sat down in the chair again. He was such a feeble-looking wrinkled old man, but he had such awesome weapons in his collection. Josh wondered if there was a story in that – he could write a comic about an elderly man who used to be a fighter, battling black-clad villains with whirling nunchaku in each hand, rescuing his five glamorous wives from evil Yakuza bosses. It’d make a pretty awesome comic, Josh decided.