Stories From Tokyo-To

Buddy

I've always been a bit of an asshole. As far back as I can remember, I never really did the things other people told me. Whether that be eating my vegetables or playing with the neighborhood kids. My parents saw me as "shy" and thought nothing of it. My parents, what a couple of jack-offs. They were a pair of young office workers, helplessly in love with one another. Too helpless, it seems, because 9 months later, guess who unexpectedly popped out.

Yeah, me. Tōmorokoshi Rengō. Corn, my name is fucking Corn.

You see, neither of them had the gall or emotional maturity to raise a child, and that was pretty apparent by their "hands-off" approach to parenting. Granted, I wasn't an abandoned or neglected kid. I had everything I needed. That was the problem. Ever since I was little, I remember begging for my mom and dad's attention, but I seldom received any. They were always so lost in each other's eyes or too busy with work-related projects.

It reached the point that when I failed in elementary school, they'd give me a phony chastising in front of staff but would do nothing about my performance at home. After a while, I just didn't care for them. I learned to do a lot of independent things on my own. Laundry, housekeeping, and even some basic cooking skills were all self-taught by the time I was nine.

I kept to myself, and it seemed like they couldn't care less about it. It got to a point where all my Christmas presents were the same year after year since they didn't even bother asking me what I'd like from "Santa." Oh yeah, I knew that the whole "Holly Jolly" fella was a load of horseshit way early on. Regardless, it came to a boiling point one day in school. Some schmuck thought it would be okay to tear off the head of some poor girl's doll. So, after confronting him, we traded blows. I got my ass beat pretty badly, but for the first time, I could see the gears in my parents' brains turning. I was ready to be cared about from that day on!

One can dream.

That summer, my parents dropped me off with my Grandfather, my dad's dad. I think they saw it as a way to "straighten me up." That somehow, he'd be able to change this violent and reckless child I was becoming. But we both knew why they did it: summer daycare. My parents had a vacation planned for traveling across Japan, and I wasn't included. Crazy, right?

"Listen up, I'm not going to repeat myself, understood? There will be no games, TV, or fooling around in my house. You do not touch anything that isn't yours. You do not enter the garage or my room. If I catch you doing any of these things, my foot will be so far up your ass, you'll sneeze shoelaces. Do I make myself clear?"

Ojiisan was a man of very few words. After that, I didn't hear much from him that first summer. Of course, I did what he said and tried not to do anything that would disturb him. He did kind of freak me out. However, the majority of the day, he was gone. He'd wake up early in the morning and drive his blue muscle car to and from Kogane-Cho, where he worked. He was a hardworking and dedicated steelworker. His blue jumpsuit had the grease and sweat to prove it.

While he was away, most of my days were spent cleaning the house, tending to the small garden out front, and drawing when I had everything done. He'd come home and pass out on his reclining chair in the living room before going upstairs to his room. I'd throw a blanket over him from time to time, but he didn't notice.

One evening, I found myself particularly bored from doing nothing all day and wandered around the house. It was a Sunday, and he spent most of them drinking, either working on his car in the garage or watching really old samurai films.

"Ojiisan, there's nothin' ta do."

"Why the hell are you telling me this?"

"'Cause I've done everythin' there is ta do. I'm startin' ta hate bein' cooped up in here all day."