Nov. 30^th

Here I am, back in the swing of things. Right now, I’m sitting at my desk at the elementary school known as “Kancho Central”, trying my best to stay awake. For a time there, this school lost its title of Kancho Central, but…well, I’ll tell you a story that I neglected to include in my recent barrage of entries.

In Japan, they always keep their children moving, mostly because if they don’t burn off all the energy that they have, they’ll go nuclear and explode. So, they dedicate 20 minutes a day to something called…Run Time. That’s right. These kids run in a circle for 20 minutes. And they get crazy excited about it.

“Oi, Hideki-kun!”

“Aa…Tetsuo! Nani?”

“Hashirou!”

“Honto ni?”

“N!”

“Yokatta!”

TRANSLATION

“Hey, Hideki!”

“What is it, Tetsuo?”

“We’s finta run!”

“For real?”

“Yay-uh!”

“Oh snap!”

Oh, they’ve got P.E., and after school sports, but they STILL have this 20 minutes of running.

So, last week, I was chillin’ in the teacher’s room, when one of the teachers comes up and uses the only sentence form everyone in Japan knows. “Let’s _________.”

“Deibitto-sensei! Let’s running!”

I sputtered, knowing that I’ve been a long time hater of running for recreation. Sports? Cool. Running in circles? Dumbz. “Ahh…uhh…samusugiruyo.” (Uhh…dude, it’s too cold.)

He laughed and walked away. But then the vice-principal shows up with a cup of coffee for me. Now…she must’ve spiked that stuff with stupid-juice and cold-stompers, because suddenly, my brain said, “Forget this noise…I wanna run!”

I don’t remember what happened after that. All I know is that I found myself outside with the kids, in my heavy jacket, shirt and tie, tying up my Timberlands as I knelt on the ground with children hopping in circles around me. As I tied the final knot, I focused ahead of me—a clear path for a good 100 meters. I flung my arms out to my sides, all dramatic-like, and the kids froze.

“3…2…1…” I took off. Slow at first, goofing off and showing off my stride, but then I noticed that the fastest kids considered this a race!

“Ha!” said my brain. “Watch this…” My body was not ready for what my brain was about to do. I swear, I hovered for a moment in mid air. I looked around, and noticed that the kids still thought they were keeping up with me. But then my right foot touched the ground. I barely felt the gravel beneath my feet before I shot ahead like a rocket. I heard gasps as I began weaving in and out of crowds, never breaking stride or losing speed. I’d never moved this fast in my life.

“We can still go faster!” said my brain. And before I knew it, my speed had increased. I honestly couldn’t feel my body anymore. I could only push this for another 10 meters or so, though, because a densely packed crowd of kids was ahead of me. So, I skidded to a stop, generating quite a cloud of dust. I looked behind me and saw the kids just catching up to me, mimicking my sliding stop.

“Hayai!”

Deibitto-sensei wa sugoi!

“Ha!” said my brain. “How ya like me n—AAGH!” Suddenly my lungs caught on fire and started closing up. My legs were screaming. “The heck did you do that for, man?! Now we can barely walk, and we can’t breathe.” But, I faked like I was okay, and kept walking like nothing was wrong.

This is when things got bad.

I think the kids smelled my vulnerability, because after one kid tried for a kancho, and missed, I suddenly saw 10 kids with their hands in kancho formation. Barely able to breathe, I prepared myself for battle by taking a low, wide stance, one arm in front, one in back, making it more difficult for them to get me. One rushed forward from my rear left. I spun around, grabbed his hand and used his momentum to sending him flying past me. Then, two more attacked, from front and back. I turned to the side, and palmed both of their heads with either hand, stopping them short. But before I could do anything about them, three more rushed in, all aiming for a kancho. Fortunately, two of those kids attacked the two I’d just stopped, and got them with rather forceful kanchos. If I’d been on the receiving end of one of those…yikes. Three more decided to join the fight, but I used the third kid from the previous wave of children to block them. And this is when #10 saw his chance. He sneaked around to my blind spot and stabbed inward. Had he not done a battlecry, I never would have caught him. I barely had time to grasp his hands, but the other nine had recovered and began moving in. Without even thinking, I began to spin, with #10 still locked in my grip. Before I knew it, the kid was almost parallel to the ground from my whirling, and the other nine were stepping back. I slowed down, released #10, but made sure to add a twirl to his landing so he went spinning off into the distance. This…was possibly my worst mistake. They now knew that if they got close enough to kanchoing me, it meant they had a chance of being whirled around like #10. And they love being whirled around.

The nine resumed the kancho stance.

“Screw it all, man. RUN!” said my brain.

“Yo, you burned us out last time!” said my legs.

“Fine,” said my brain. “You wanna feel that pain after I send the sensation back to you, go for it.”

“…DANG IT!” screamed my legs, as I suddenly shot off toward the school. Toward safety. The nine followed, and so did about 50 other kids. Some suddenly brandishing kancho hands, some thinking it was a race. There I was, sprinting with urgency toward the school, ignoring the fact that my asthma was KILLING me. I’d made it halfway, and heard the bell ring, which called everyone’s attention to me. Suddenly, nearly every child was racing for the school. In this confusion, there was no way I’d make it safely. I couldn’t. I couldn’t run anymore. I was gonna have to fight again. I was…at the stairs. Without a second thought, I sat down, blocking all potential target areas, and the kids just ran past me, some admitting defeat, others not even caring. I laughed, and barely noticed that a few kids had gathered around me for a picture. I smiled for the camera, and grumbled a bit at the fact that the teachers had just watched this all happen. But…I was safe. I was safe. My lungs would probably never expand to full size again, but I was safe.

Thus, Kancho Central proved it was once again worthy of the name. I’ve had to work here for the last two days. Never have I been so on guard.

In other news, I found out that the full Japanese translation of David Williams is…Saiai no Ketsui no Kabuto. Which means, Beloved Helm of Determination. Japanese people think that name is frickin’ awesome. And…that translation gives me new purpose. I can’t ever give up with a name like that…yeesh.

D