Stranded in the Future

Chapter Twenty-Two: Lessons and TV

Ichiro could count on one hand the number of times he had eaten noodles in the past, so he felt nothing short of amazed when Kumiko set the two steaming bowls down on the table.

"So, this is ramen?" he asked, staring at the artfully arranged slices of pork, soft boiled egg, seaweed, mushrooms, and chopped scallions that had been used as garnish. "It's beautiful..." He wafted the rich aroma towards his face. "And the smell as well..."

"I'm glad to hear it, but I have you to thank as well. You did a good job watching the stove for me," Kumiko said with a gracious smile. "Now, let's eat."

Ichiro's immediate reaction was to grab his chopsticks, though he froze when Kumiko put her hands together as if in prayer.

"Itadakimasu," she cheered before noticing his silence. "Ichiro, aren't you going to say it as well?"

He lowered his hand and blinked at the unfamiliarity of those words. "I don't think I've heard it before. What does it mean?"

"Oh, I see how it is." Kumiko regarded him with understanding. "I forgot that we hardly ever said it in the old days. It means I humbly receive."

Ichiro tightened his jaw, feeling ashamed of himself regardless. He let go of his chopsticks and looked her straight in the eyes. "I humbly receive."

Kumiko stared back at him with stiffening shoulders. "That was intense, but I appreciate the determination. Let's eat for real this time..."

******

The kanji for numbers one through ten were all quite simple, and Ichiro could commit them to memory after writing them seven times each on the piece of paper Kumiko had provided. He put the pen aside and raised his head, feeling content with himself until she cleared her throat.

"Not so fast. You'll have to learn the hiragana too."

Ichiro laughed at the absurdity of her statement, for hiragana were whimsical and feminine. "Why? I'm a man."

Kumiko frowned and crossed her arms. The atmosphere around them became stifling. "Chances are you'll have to know both to compete with your sister."

"Oh..." Ichiro remembered what he had asked Hideo to do the night before and imagined the letter that Isa would potentially write for him. "I'm sorry. It's hard to forget what people used to tell me was proper."

"All is forgiven." Kumiko sighed and let her arms drop back to her sides, though Ichiro still feared upsetting her again and reminded himself to choose his words more carefully. "Now, let's move on."

She wrote the kanji for each number across the page, then added the corresponding hiragana underneath as reference. "Please copy what I've done and say them aloud while you're at it."

Ichiro nodded, then picked the pen up again. While it was easy to write the straight lines of kanji, the curvier shapes of hiragana required a steadier hand. He remembered Kumiko's instructions and read the first characters aloud. "One. Two. Three..."

He continued to the other end of the page, then kept going to his wife's encouragement until the entire sheet of paper had been filled. Kumiko observed his progress and nodded in approval. "I think that's enough for tonight. We'll do this again tomorrow."

"So, what now?"

"The television." Kumiko directed her focus towards the wooden cabinet about three feet in front of them. "I've kept it locked in there for two weeks, and it's about time to take it out again."

"What?" Ichiro dragged himself backwards across the floor. This fabled thing called a television had to be either fragile or dangerous to warrant such precaution, so his heartbeat grew faster as Kumiko produced the key to unlock the cabinet.

She opened the doors and pulled the square metallic object out with care before setting it on top of the cabinet. Ichiro focused on the pane of glass that was affixed in the center, then on the long electrical wire that she had begun to uncoil. After plugging the end of the wire behind the cabinet and flicking a switch, she crept in front of the television and pressed the button to turn it on.

A loud crackle caused Ichiro's eyes to expand and his breath to stick in his throat. He pointed his finger as gray and white lines flickered rapidly before him. "What...what in the hell is that?"

"It's TV static," Kumiko replied, looking back at him in concern. "Are you ready for me to change the channel?"

Ichiro recovered enough from his shock to ask another question. "Isn't a channel a body of water?"

"Yes, but it's something else as well. Let me show you." She turned one of the dials on the side of the television and the so-called static faltered. The flurry of colors that became visible through the flickering bars sharpened and consumed the latter until what he witnessed was a man in garish yellow garments shouting into a strange conical object.

Ichiro clutched a hand to his stomach while his heart pounded. The sight and sound were as vivid as if the crazy man were right in the room with him. Yet, at the same time, the scene was confined solely to the screen, like a bizarre little stage play.

He wanted to tear his gaze away but couldn't no matter how much his mind told him to. The man in the yellow garments skipped across the stage to approach a fellow, who to Ichiro's increased bewilderment, was dressed in the regalia of a daimyo, with his hair shaved and tied into a chonmage. "And introducing one of our guests for tonight! A man who has chosen to live like it's the Edo period!"

Ichiro leaned forward, unable to escape his trance anymore. All he could see and hear now was the flashing screen, and it was as if his own soul had become anchored to the device. He knew not what was really happening, or why everybody was dressed so outlandishly, but it was so hypnotic that the only thing he could do was let himself plunge deeper.

By the time Kumiko switched off the television, Ichiro could not tell if seconds, minutes, or even an hour had passed. He licked his dry lips before performing the laborious task of swallowing.

"Ichiro, are you okay? You look hungover..."

"Huh?" he managed to say as Kumiko rushed over and placed a hand to his temple. Her forehead creased a moment later as she uttered words he could hardly discern.

Ichiro felt her hands clasp around his arms before he was pulled up. The hypnotic images from earlier continued to flash through his brain as he shuffled along towards the bathroom. He became vaguely aware of the sound of running water and began to return to his senses when some of it was splashed on his face.

"That's better," Kumiko murmured, dabbing a small towel to his face afterwards. "I wanted to change the channel, but I was scared it would make things worse."

She pushed the bathroom stool towards him. "Just sit down and take slow breaths. Don't worry about anything else."

"Thank you..."

Unfortunately, no sooner had Kumiko turned to hang the damp towel than a dark swirling mass burst forth from the opposite wall and spilled out over the bathtub, engulfing it completely. Ichiro's pulse and temperature increased again before he opened his mouth and screamed.

******

Author Note:

Well, this was a fun chapter to write.

I imagined that Ichiro's experience of seeing a modern variety show would be akin to the feeling one gets from watching these videos, but even more intense because he has no reference point.

- Saying 'itadakimasu' before meals didn't become a widespread custom until the twentieth century if the website Tofugu is to be believed.

- Hiragana began as a cursive way to write kanji, or Chinese characters. It was, and still is seen as unofficial and a woman's script to an extent.