Zero Sum Game (10 page)

The two women looked at each other, as if they each wanted the other to respond first. "She's kind," Bando said. "Why are you asking?"

Ozaki held up Hina's worksheet. "Today in English class, she spoke perfectly. As fluently as a native. But her score on yesterday's worksheet was average."

"I've never heard her speak English," Bando said. She looked at the other teacher.

Uchitomi shook her head. "Me neither. I know she's good in the sports festival. She's strong, like a boy."

Ozaki remembered the arm wrestling match from the other day. "I know that," he said.

"She got a trophy," Bando said. She said to the vice principal, "Show him." She waved her hand back and forth from Ozaki to Seiki.

A display case of the trophies and awards various students and the school's teams had won stood at the front entrance. Ozaki didn't recall any trophy with Hina's name on it when he had been shown around the school. "What sport is she in?" He tried to remember what her file had said about her. "I don't remember what club she's in."

Vice-principal Seiki said, "She's in a weightlifting social club. Not part of the school. But she still participates in the club parade and activities during the sports festival."

Ozaki asked, "Which trophies are hers?"

Seiki stood and gestured for the English teacher to follow him. Ozaki walked behind him out of the teacher's room and into the front entrance. Seiki squatted and pointed to the bottom shelf. "There."

He saw three trophies with the name Hina Takamachi. He read the plaque that said she had won the national championship in junior high school weightlifting.
No wonder she beat me in arm wrestling,
he thought. Two other trophies had her placed within the top five.

Upon returning to the teacher's room, Bando said to Ozaki, "There's a binder about her, too." She led him to a shelf and pulled out a ring binder.

Inside were newspaper articles about Hina's accomplishments, starting from the time she entered junior high school. Most were from local Hiroshima papers but some were national. He skimmed through them, catching bits and pieces; like how her classmates like making her carry their bags sometimes and that she always won in arm wrestling. There was even a DVD inside. He put into a nearby player. One clip was an interview from last year when she had won a prestigious competition. The second was when she had been a sixth-grader. It came from a national variety show that had a segment that featured amazing elementary students. Her spotlight had been sandwiched between a boy who could draw with his foot and a girl who did impressions of famous celebrities and talent.

The bell rang, signaling the end of the last class. Moments later, the rest of the teachers filed into the staff room. Soon students came to the door, requesting permission to enter so they could get the material needed for homeroom.

"Hina Takamachi of grade two, class A." She stood at the entrance to the teacher's room. "I need to talk with Ozaki-sensei. May I come in?" Rules required every student to give their name, grade and class, and the reason they wanted into the teacher's room; then they waited for a teacher to invite them in before they could enter the room.

Ozaki called out, "Come in." Hina walked to his desk.

"I need the daily review notebooks," she said.

He patted a basket on his desk. "Here they are." He opened a desk drawer and took out a box of paperclips. As he put them atop the notebooks in the basket, he saw her peek into the drawer and her eyes grew large.

"Ozaki-sensei, do you like cats?"

He looked down to see what had caught her eye. A book by war photographer Yoichi Watanabe lay in his desk drawer, a bookmark with a gold tassel and a picture of a cheetah sitting on its haunches stuck out the top.

"
Yes, I do. And you
?" he said in English.

She smiled. "I like all kinds of cats. Big ones, small ones. It doesn't matter. Except for hairless cats. They seem so sad, not having any fur."

He motioned to the basket in Hina's hands. "Take these to the classroom and put them in the front desk."

Hina nodded. At the door she said, "Excuse me," bowed, and exited the staff room.

— — —

It was six pm when weightlifting ended. Hina didn't go straight home, instead she took a streetcar to the shopping district of Hondori situated next to the Peace Park. It straddled the thoroughfare, a covered broadway of shops and restaurants selling everything from clothes to electronics. It mostly contained brand name and chain stores, although a few local shops dotted the outer side streets. On the Peace Park side, behind Sun Mall, was Cat's Eye, her favorite place in Hiroshima. She often went to the cat cafe, especially when she was stressed. The cafe's small size, the quiet atmosphere, and the warm furry touch of cats calmed her. She opened the door and stepped over the knee-high gate designed to prevent the cats from running outside.

"Welcome, Hina-chan," said Wakamura, the owner. She had black wavy hair, a small frame, and copious amounts of makeup, as if she could trap her remaining youth behind a wall of blush and foundation. Hina liked her for her kindness and for not bothering her when she could tell something
was
bothering her. She let Hina sit and pet the cats, and if Hina had something to say, she would listen. Sometimes, Hina appreciated a person's silence more than their advice.

"Hi, Wakamura-san." The owner always told Hina to call her Sara, but she couldn't bring herself to do it. She had to be respectful. "I'm sorry to be coming in so late. Can I still get my full hour?"

Wakamura looked at her like she had asked her if the building was still standing. "Of course, dear. Iced coffee?"

Hina smiled and nodded. "Yes, please." As Wakamura began making her drink, she moved into the larger room behind the serving area.

The cafe consisted of three areas: the serving area with a counter that sat four people, a room with one low table and two cushions for seating, and a larger room that had two tables and two legless love seats. About ten people could sit comfortably in the cafe. Her stomach rumbled but she would eat at home; she didn't want to spoil her father's efforts for dinner, and the cafe only served light foods: sandwiches, salads, and cakes. People didn't come here for the food.

They came for the cats. And there were many of them.

Thirteen cats roamed the cafe, sitting and lying wherever they pleased, except for the kitchen area. While the cats varied in size, color, and shape, they all had the same temperament: easygoing and passive. The point of a cat cafe was to enjoy cats, to sit and stroke their fur and let tension and stress fade away.

The cats were of breeds that were laid-back and liked being around people. But like all cats they had minds of their own; some would lay on the counter for hours on end and let themselves be petted, others gave in when they were picked up. Still others only craved human contact when they wanted it, on their terms.

Hina sat at a table, sliding her backpack off and setting it on the seat next to her. A Norwegian forest cat strolled into the room, his tail high, taking his time entering. He glanced at Hina, walked by, and went to the next table on the far side of the room. He sniffed the cushion, looked around again as if searching then came to Hina's bag, sniffing the bottom.

"Hey, Zeus," she said, scratching him on the side of the head. Zeus pushed up against her fingertips, then walked off. None of the cats had Japanese pet names, they were all named after historical or mythological people from foreign countries. When she had asked Wakamura about that, the old lady had said that foreign names made the cats seem more exotic and majestic.

Wakamura brought Hina her drink and left. Hina poured the cream and liquid sugar into it and stirred, the ice cubes made tinkling sounds. A few more cats entered and exited the room, none of them making contact with Hina. That didn't bother her, their presence helped calm her. She took several sips and leaned back against the love seat, drawing a deep breath.

A stolen purse, a dying man, strange clothes, speaking English, and her hand solving math problems on its own—she wondered if she had forgotten anything else that had happened to her this week. She didn't think so and wondered what was in store for her
next
week. She might sprout wings and fly, or be recruited to save the world, like in many of the magical girl anime she had watched as a child. For now she didn't want any of that, she wanted peace and quiet and a chance for her mind to blank out.

A calico cat rested its paws on her thighs. She petted it, and the cat pushed back against her hand. Then it crawled into the space between herself and her bag, its fur soft against her skin, and curled into a ball. Hina continued to pet it, letting her mind empty, losing herself in the cat's softness, and remained that way until Wakamura came and asked if she wanted to pay for a fifteen-minute extension.

CHAPTER 11

A few blocks from the cat cafe Hina saw a familiar face: her purse snatcher. She stopped. He saw her too; his eyes widened in recognition.

"Hey!" she yelled.

He bolted back the way he had come. Part of Hina thought the man must be half rabbit: one small noise and he ran. Hina had no fancy shoes to slow her down this time, she wore sneakers with good traction. Her backpack might be a problem, but she didn't care. She would get her purse back no matter what.

She ran after him, her strong legs propelling her forward. They moved away from the department stores and chain outlets and into narrow alleys with smaller shops and stores. But something felt wrong: her legs moved faster and she covered more ground than she normally did. She felt…stronger. She didn't know how else to put it. The man turned a corner and Hina followed, expecting to find him out of reach and gaining distance. But she was surprised to find herself not far from him.

He saw her in pursuit and ran faster. Hina poured on the speed, closing the distance. Five meters. Two meters. Her legs felt like her hand had earlier, as if they wanted to keep running, possessed of their own will. She passed the man, too surprised at her speed to reach out and grab him. Another corner raced towards her. She could only turn right; a building blocked the street on the left and a retaining wall cut off the road straight ahead of her. She tried to turn but her feet were going too fast. She stumbled, heading for the concrete wall.

She threw her arms in front of her face to protect herself and turned her torso to the right. The left side of her body connected with the wall, then she smashed through it. She heard the sound of breaking stone and felt debris shatter against her. Her ankles caught on the bottom edge of the hole she had made and she fell to her side, chunks of rock bouncing on top of her. She coughed as dust assaulted her lungs. She couldn't think of what had happened. She should be a sore mess, or a splatter against the wall. She should have broken several bones and a concussion.

She regained her feet and stumbled back into the alley. She squeezed her eyes shut, but her tears were already washing the grains out of her eyes. She placed her hands on her knees, coughing and wheezing, forcing the dust from her lungs. Her purse snatcher started running again. She guessed he had stopped when she had rammed through the wall, but seeing her alive and well, he took off like a rabbit again.

Hina ran after him for the third time. She didn't go all out like she had earlier. She was afraid what would happen if she did, but she kept pace with the man. He disappeared around a corner and she followed, finding him a little bit ahead of her. He ducked into another alley. When she turned the corner, he wasn't running, he panted, out of breath, pointing her way and talking to someone. Hina slowed to a walk, and when the man saw her, he scampered out of the way.

He stood with three other friends in the front area of a defunct cafe. The windows were shuttered and the door chained, but a metal table and three chairs stood on the patio. One man leaned back in a chair while two others stood. Hina saw they were at least late high school age, or early college. One wore similar fashion to the purse snatcher, but he had a toboggan instead of a baseball cap. The toboggan kid chewed his right thumbnail, making small clicking noises. The other boy wore a scuffed and ragged black school uniform, his sleeves were pushed up to the elbow. His pants sagged, gathering at his ankles. Hina could see the cartoon character boxers he wore. The third boy slouched in the chipped and rusted patio chair. He had his ankles crossed, legs stretched out. He wore jeans and a tight t-shirt.

An ashtray filled with old butts sat on the table. Wallets and cheap jewelry were strewn about. Hina recalled the officer at the police box telling her there had been a string of robberies in the area. She may have found the thieves right here. In a planter box, amid dark dirt and wilted flowers, she saw her purse, discarded like a sock no longer fit to wear. The sight angered her.

Her purse snatcher stood near one of his friends. "It was her, her right there," he said in a rush. "She was, like, running and then all of a sudden," he clapped his hands once, "and BOOM! And, and…" He couldn't finish the sentence. The guys standing laughed at him, but the man at the table only chuckled. Hina stood still, scared about what to do next. She had chased the guy in order to get her purse back but she hadn't been expecting three other boys. She saw her purse lying in the planter but now wondered if it was worth it. She didn't know if she could outrun them. She might be able to; after all, she had passed the guy in the baseball cap.

The toboggan kid stepped forward, biting on his thumbnail as he looked her up and down. "Put down your bag," he said.

For a moment, Hina wasn't sure what he meant, then she remembered she still had her school bag strapped to her shoulders. She had forgotten about it since leaving school. Normally its heavy weight pulled at her shoulders, but today she hadn't felt it, it was as light as a box of tissues. She slid the bag to the ground, setting it by her feet. The boy pushed it farther aside with his foot then walked around her. Not close enough to touch, but too close for Hina's comfort; right now, being in the same
city
was too close for her. He did a slow circle around her, as if appraising the curves of a new car. Hina hunched her shoulders and clasped her hands together in front of her chest.