I went to a ninensei class at the Ghetto School. Before the class began, Chidori Boy entered the room. You haven’t heard much about Chidori Boy because he’s been fairly low key/quiet lately. At least nothing worth writing about. But this day, as he came into the classroom and walked past me, he took one of those open-palmed finger jabs to my nuts. Thank GOD for my new Ascended Senses, I was able to parry his hand to my thigh with the uber-quickness. But what the hell is going on here? How the fuck have we gone from grabbing at it, to trying to punch it? Is this the natural pecking order of schoolboy debauchery? Is it jealousy? Seriously, what the fuck? I liked it better when they were merely grabbing at it. That’s the most fucked up thing I’ve ever said. And it’s sad because it’s true.
Incidentally, since class hasn’t technically started yet, I’m standing at the front of the classroom with the Japanese teacher. Her response? “Hey, don’t do that.” Yep. Hey, don’t do that. Mr. Teacher just might not want you jabbing his potential future kids out of existence.
The chime rang, and the students all stood up for the ritual “Good morning, how are you?” “Fine thank you, and you?” that makes a little part of me die inside every time I hear it. “Good morning, class!” I say. “Good morning, Mr. Azrael!” 29 Japanese school kids say. “Good morning, Mr. Kancho!” Chidori Boy says. Um … no. I told him this too, in English. “Umm … no.” Chidori Boy turns to the rest of the class. “That’s okay. We got him good back when we were ichinensei.” Chidori Boy is referring to the events that took place in Requiem of a Legacy, the tragic tale of a hero’s fall from grace.
“Yeah, and I’m gonna get revenge for that one of these days,” I said. Chidori Boy doesn’t realize that not only did he get me during a period of vulnerability, since then I’ve lost whatever sanity I might have had left, and have no qualms about Rocket-Kanchoing a kid straight to Mt. Fuji if I have to. I kanchoed the ever-loving shit out of Watson and his offenses are petty crimes compared to Chidori Boy, who is literally a war criminal. A war fought inside a classroom using fingers up the ass, but it’s still a war damnit, and I’m gonna persecute him as such.
The girl standing next to Chidori Boy (this is STILL just the opening greeting) agrees with me at least. “Yeah! You revenge kancho the shit outta him.” Note that she doesn’t literally say in Japanese “revenge kancho the shit outta him”, that’s a decent English equivalent, I don’t think there’s even a way to say that in Japanese. If there is, I don’t know it. They don’t happen to teach that kind of thing in Japanese class, you know. “Do you know the way to the post office?” “I’ll meet you at the coffee shop after 9.” “I’m gonna revenge kancho the holy shit outta you.” Nope, didn’t appear in any curriculums I studied.
“Revenge, huh?” Chidori Boy calmly asks. He clearly doesn’t know what I’m capable of. “Yep, revenge.” I hold up my pointer finger. “It’s pretty long, isn’t it?” “Holy crap, that is big!” Chidori Boy gets an appreciation of the risks involved with starting a Kancho War with me. This is roughly equivalent to when Commodore Perry showed up to feudal Japan and showed the sword-wielding samurai his big shiny cannons. The Japanese teacher chimes in here – “Yeah, you better watch out, he’ll revenge kancho you.” It’s official, 4 out of 5 Japanese school teachers approve of letting their kids get poked in the ass by large, English teaching foreigners.
Welcome to Japan.
And it is here where everyone sits down and class begins.
Chidori Boy doesn’t give me too much trouble during class. He makes one stab attempt (not so) cleverly disguised as asking me for homework help. I successfully defended against it, and remembered back to my childhood – my dad was in the military and he used to always randomly just start attacking me. “Defend yourself!” he’d say, and suddenly my otherwise peaceful viewing of The Smurfs would be interrupted as I’d have to roll off the couch and run away from dad’s flying jab punches. “You never know when you’ll suddenly find yourself in a hostile environment!” he says, chasing me throughout the house while trying to kill me with his fists. I always thought he was kind of crazy, but now suddenly having to keep myself from getting jabbed in the nuts in the middle of a classroom, I realize he was absolutely right. Thanks for the training, Dad. If I have sons, I promise to surprise attack them so that if they ever end up in Japan, they too can defend against attacks to their junk.
It’s an interesting life I lead.
Anyway, as the students work on their homework, the boy behind Chidori Boy has something to show me. He takes the rubber grip on his mechanical pen, and rolls it up near the tip, forming a slight bulge. “Japanese men” he says. He then straightens the rubber grip out so that the pen is nice, narrow, and cylindrical again. “American men” he says. …I told him I didn’t know what he was getting at. He waves me off. “Ah, you don’t understand.” I told him I knew exactly what he was saying, but didn’t understand why he was saying it. “Besides, how many American penises have you seen to make that kind of statement?” Now embarrassed, he waves me off again, and this is for the best I think – whatever the answer to my question was, I really, *really* don’t want to know. I just don’t. At any rate, to finish off his comparison, he now holds up his pen case – “You.” He says. “Well …” is my answer.
AND IF YOU CAN THINK OF A BETTER WAY FOR FOR ME TO RESPOND TO A 14 YEAR OLD JAPANESE BOY TELLING ME MY PENIS IS ABOUT 5X THE SIZE OF EVERYONE ELSE’S, I’D LOVE TO HEAR IT*.
Later, as the class is about to end, I catch another two boys talking about my threat back at the beginning of the class. They’re trying to figure how the length of my index finger in relation to their hands. They were measuring well past their own hands, down to somewhere around their wrists. This has them both awed, and a little afraid. One boy makes a fist and says “He might as well just punch your asshole right open.” Fear is a wonderful tool.
The class ends, and although nothing else really happens, Chidori Boy silently hangs around me a little longer than he should have. I kept my eyes on him at all times, but had I not, I dunno what would have happened. I smell a war brewing. I was a naive private before, but now I’ve been hardened into the General Patton of Kancho. Come, little Chidori Boy, come. You’ve started this war, but I’ll be the one to finish it. 1000 Years of Pain? Pfft. I’ve got the Eternal Kancho waiting for you – you will ALWAYS feel it. You’ll feel it now. It’ll be the first thing you feel when you wake up, and the last thing you feel when you go to sleep. It’ll be there when you graduate from Jr. high school, high school, and college. It’ll be there when you get your first kiss, when you get married, when you have kids. It’ll be there when you’re on your way to work, it’ll be there when you’re having a drink with your friends. You’ll still feel it 60 years from now, as a grumpy old man. And 14 years ago, just as you pop outta your mom, your ass will be smarting from the kancho I have yet to give you.
Is it wrong? You betcha. Will I enjoy it immensely? You better believe it.