By Justin Delaney

PART 1: CHOPSTICKS

PROLOGUE

HELLO JAPAN, IT’S ME AGAIN

TENNOJI SLAPPER

NEXT STOP, NAGATA

ED-MAN

NOVA = NO-VACATION

COLD BEER AND SPICY CABBAGE

CHIVALRY IS NOT DEAD

SHAKE, RATTLE AND SUSHI ROLL

SHE’S NOT RIGHT FOR YOU

RIDING ON TRAINS WITH THE BIG FELLA

BIG RED AND CHINA BLUE (THEY’RE FRIENDS WITH ME AND THEY’RE FRIENDS WITH YOU).

ALL MIXED UP

T-T-T-TARUMI

A KISS ON THE LIPS IS BETTER THAN A SLAP IN THE FACE

HANA-BI

DRUMROLL PLEASE

THE TIES THAT BIND WILL FOREVER BURN

HEARBREAK IN HIROSHIMA

THE JAR

DRINKING BEERS AT WORLDS END

GOING NUTS!

HANGIN’ WITH THE YAKS

BLOOMIN’ PRODUCTIONS

A STAB IN THE DARK

The first thing I notice is the handle. Its black, sleek shape is hard to pick up in the dark, but I know instantly what it is. I sense no pain, despite my brain sending me a warning signal that something is definitely wrong. Dark figures hover around me shouting words I don’t understand. I can see my hands out in front of my face, fingers spread wide as if I am defending in a game of basketball. I scream out in desperation but it is quickly lost in the darkness of the night. Something tells me they wouldn’t comprehend anyway. The humid air of the late August night makes it hard for me to catch my breath. All those years of smoking have caught up with me. I can feel beads of sweat welling up underneath my black t-shirt. I stagger backwards until I feel the edge of a vehicle touch my calves. I turn and see Yasu’s familiar face and his bloodied hand stretched out in my direction. He grabs me by the scruff and pulls me through the open van door then screams at his wife to drive.

The sudden jolt of the moving van forces my face to smack heavily against the hard vinyl seat. The cool surface soothes my cheek momentarily. I grab at the neck hole of my t-shirt, trying to loosen the vice like grip it has around my throat. It’s like I’ve water in my lungs and I’m slowly drowning. As I shuffle in my seat searching for fresh air, I catch a glimpse of the black shape again. It shouldn’t be there. I don’t want to look at it, but it taunts me like a school yard bully. My eyes follow the handle down until it reaches the base of the blade. It glistens from the reflection of the passing street lamps. Only a small amount of the blade is visible, with the remainder inserted deeply into my left thigh. The knife protrudes grandly out of my leg invoking images of Excalibur in the stone.

I sense the van is picking up speed and I can dimly make out familiar landmarks whizzing by in a blur as we drive towards the city. Yasu’s wife and her unknown passenger are in the front, all crazy eyed and frantic, screaming at me in the back. Their voices come across muffled and inaudible. The fact they are speaking in Japanese probably doesn’t help matters either.

Even though I am numb all over, I can sense my body is sweating profusely. There is wetness around my crotch. I don’t know if it’s piss or something much worse? I glance out the window again to try and determine where the hell we are? The lights are flashing past so quickly I can’t get a sense of our surroundings anymore. Everything is happening at a break-neck speed. One minute Yasu and I were wandering down the giant descent from GM’s apartment towards our ride home, and the next thing I know I’m slumped in the back of a van driving to God knows where? Breathe. Think. Put the puzzle back together. What the HELL just happened?

As I lie there in the backseat of the van I try to remember the events that led up to this moment. Flashes of memory spring sporadically into my mind. Images of an argument, a chase, running, laughing, shock. I remember two girls, a guy and a knife. I can see Yasu lying on the ground in a pool of blood. Holy shit, Yasu. I turn and find my friend is now sprawled out on the seat next to me, blood pouring from multiple stab wounds to his side and ear. He looks like a homicide victim.

Blood oozes through Yasu’s fingers as he tries to plug up the various wounds around his body. The blood seems black in the darkness. It flows like oil from a can, staining the vinyl. It certainly looks different to what you see in the movies. I’ve seen every one of Scorsese’s gangster films and I can’t remember blood ever looking like this. I try to help by sliding over and putting some pressure on his hip. The blood on the seat makes it hard for me to sit still without slipping. That’s when he notices not all is well with me either.

“Dude, you’ve got a knife in your leg”, he says in his typical pseudo American gangster twang. He sticks a bloodied finger in the direction of my jeans. “Just hang in there, we’re gonna get you to a hospital. Whatever you do, don’t pull it out.”

Despite his own injuries I can see the concern in his eyes as he stares at the black handle. His wife Tommoko starts to panic. She twists her head to grab a glimpse at what is happening in the back, while trying to keep the van on the road. I lurch forward and put my bloodied hand on her shoulder to give some reassurance. It is then that I notice her baby bump sticking out between the two seat belt sashes. My mind races back to the start of the night.

Tequila shots. Check.

Celebratory cigars. Double check.

Male bonding. In abundance.

Macho back slapping. Got the red marks to prove it.

And a hell of a lot more tequila.

Of course. We’d been out celebrating Yasu’s impending fatherhood. It was his last hurrah with the boys before entering a life of nappy changes and 3a.m. feeding. I start to freak out.

“Are you OK Tommoko? Is the baby alright? Don’t stress out, we’ll be fine.” Shit. Shit. Shit! No we won’t.

As I try to move closer to see her face, a sharp pain runs down my leg like a chainsaw on wood. I let out a blood curdling scream that ricochets around the van. Tommoko turns around quickly, jolting the steering wheel and sending the van full speed towards the side walk. Yasu yells in Japanese to straighten back up. The sudden redirection sends him flying off his seat and onto the floor. The poor bastard is sliding around in his own blood. Some of it splashes over into the front, landing on his wife’s dress. This only serves to alarm her even more.

“I’m alright, just everyone calm the fuck down for a minute!” screams Yasu, who is surprisingly still conscious.

Yasu’s wife can’t understand his English, but his point is made. She eases off on the accelerator and steadies the van. My heart is beating like a Japanese drum. I try to slow down my breathing as I help drag Yasu back off the floor. We both look like we’ve been fed through a wood chipper.

All I had to do was sit there and ride the journey out till I received medical help. But it’s funny what people do when they find themselves in unknown circumstances like this. Yasu’s words “whatever you do, don’t pull it out”, keep swirling around in my mind, prompting me to do exactly what I shouldn’t have. Like Arthur and his Excalibur, I rap my hands around the knife handle and pull the bastard straight out of my leg. What happens next is probably not unexpected.

Blood gushes from the open wound like beer from a shot gunned can. The projectile spray is so intense it shoots up hitting the ceiling of the van and down across the passenger side door. I can feel blood dripping onto my head from above, just like a scene from a dodgy 80’s horror film. I half expect to look across and see a man with a hook for a hand staring back at me. My whole body is feeling wobbly. Against my better judgment I glance down and see a gaping hole staring back up at me. This is serious.

Suddenly, as if someone has clicked the mute button off, all the sounds around me come pouring in. Yasu is screaming at his wife to give me something to wrap around my leg. The girl in the front passenger seat scampers over and ties a maternity jumper around the base of my thigh to slow down the bleeding. Who the hell is she anyway? The back seat is a mess. I can’t tell where my blood pool finishes and Yasu’s begins? I can feel the blood running down my leg and into my sock. Suddenly my phone rings. It’s my mate GM. I stick a bloodied finger on the green answer key without thinking.

“JD, you ok? I was on my balcony not long after you and Yasu left. I saw a couple of people running past and got a real bad feeling.”

I can feel my eyes rolling into the back of my head. The darkness is closing in on me.

“I’ve just been stabbed, mate.”

The words don’t even seem real to me. I mean, I’ve been in some scrapes before, but nothing like this! I let go of the black handle and drop the knife onto the floor and take one last deep breath.

“I’m gonna put you onto Yasu ‘cause I think I’m gonna…….”