This Is Not a Tragedy

5 | Breaking Rules

After seeing the expression on his face and his nice attempt but failure, a chuckle escapes. Realizing what I've done, I momentarily cover my mouth with the back of my hand and look away. I really shouldn't let him in. I shouldn't. But... my mother isn't here. "Sure."

He blinks and covers the bottom half of his face with the envelope, then sighs deeply in relief, dramatically relaxing his shoulders.

I step aside to let him in. After he takes off his shoes, he steps over the genkan step, then bends down to arrange them neatly, facing the door. I lead him to the living room.

"Sit down," I tell him, going into the kitchen.

"Wh-where shall I sit?"

His question is unexpected. "At the chabudai."

He goes to sit down on the floor at the short table in the living room while I fetch tea. I've never done this before—this standard ritual of Japanese hospitality. Never has anyone visited my mother and me. But I've seen enough TV and read enough books to know how it works. Our tea set came with a proper tray, I know. But I wonder where it is. Whatever, there's no need to be formal. I take the cup of tea to the living room and set it on the chabudai.

Hiramoto is sitting at the table in traditional Japanese seiza. Why is he always so formal? I sit down across from him. "You can sit comfortably."

"Ah... Yes." He removes his legs from under him. "Um... the picture on that table..." He glances at the framed photograph sitting beside the TV. "Can I look at it?"

There's no harm in it. "Yeah."

After crawling over to get a closer look, another small smile forms on his lips. "It's little Katana-senpai. Is this your mother?"

"Yeah." The photograph of my mother and 5-year-old me smiling is the only family photo we have. Any containing my father were gotten rid of a long time ago.

"She's pretty. Especially her eyes."

"Mhm. She's Zainichi Korean," I say.

"Then, do you know Korean?"

"Not a lick."

He gives a small nod and looks back at the picture. "Katana-senpai doesn't smile anymore?"

I freeze, and he glances back at me innocently.

Honestly, I have no clue how to answer that question, especially when it's asked with such pure intentions. It isn't until I purse my lips and glance away that he changes the subject. "Katana-senpai's father..." But this subject isn't any better.

"Not here."

He nods again. "Me too. It's just my father and me."

So we have something in common. But I wonder if his mother abandoned them like my father abandoned us.

"Um... Senpai's father... Japanese?" His lips are pursed together like he's afraid he's crossed the line.

I nod. "Half white."

His face relaxes and eyes widen. "I knew it!"

I'm not sure what he means by that. Is it because my hair and eyes are lighter brown than most? Because my hair is wavy? But there are plenty of Asians with curly or brown hair. Whatever, it's not the first time someone's puzzled me with references to my looks. And in any case, I still only consider myself Asian. "Let's get started." I pull my work out of the envelope.

"Yes." He takes out his books.

"Do you have any graded work?"

"Yes." After finding a worksheet, he hands it to me with both hands.