⚠️ Warning ⚠️
The following content may mention explicit images,
discriminatory and racist descriptions typical of the era.
The author does not intend to generate morbid interest with this.
These elements are important for the plot.
Reader discretion is advised. 🫥🫡
🫠✍️ Author's Note:
Guys, something big is coming.
Also, I want to adapt this into a webcomic ""and yes, I'm going to do it"",
because there are things I can't show just on paper.
Huge things are coming.
💧 A new saint
My God… this is going to be amazing. 🌊🔥
Jack and Kamei-san were standing on the bow of the
Liners-Trans-Pacific, breathing in the salty air after almost a
month of voyage from San Francisco.
Today was May 15, 1964, and the coast of Yokohama
stretched out before them, bathed in the soft light of dawn.
Small boats glided between blinking lighthouses, and the city
seemed to wake with every wave breaking against the pier.
Kamei-san wore clothing that combined Japanese sobriety with
Chinese embroidery from his homeland. His serene demeanor seemed
to absorb the calm of the sea. Jack, with his Mediterranean
features, contrasted with the exoticism of his companion, reflecting
the mixture of worlds that had brought them there.
""Awesome!"" exclaimed Jack, resting his hands on the railing.
""We've arrived!""
The Liners-Trans-Pacific approached the pier. Soon they would be held
for document and luggage inspection, a formality that Kamei-san
seemed to accept calmly. Meanwhile, they watched workers unload
suitcases and goods. The pier vibrated with the hum of engines and
the squawk of seagulls.
"I knew we'd have to wait, but…" said Jack. ""I don't understand
why we're just sitting here."
The air smelled of salt and city. Every detail seemed to welcome them
to Yokohama. It was the beginning of something new for Jack,
a foreign country, a land with another strange language, and a
curiosity to ask about everything. Jack still found it hard to
process seeing so many people in one place. Even from the U.S., he
would get dizzy watching the crowd pass so fast. In his mind he said:
"I can't believe there are so many humans. I knew they existed,
but it's tiring to see them pass by, they're as many as rice."
"My God, my head hurts."
Jack still found it hard to understand something as ordinary as
the crowd, and he was still somewhat shy around people.
""Look, Jack,"" replied Kamei-san. ""I've always done things the old
way. But I have to admit: modern engineering makes this trip much
easier.""
""Have you traveled by ship before?"" asked Jack.
""Yes, but never on a cruise,"" answered Kamei-san.
""What do you mean never on a cruise?"" Jack was surprised. ""I mean,
like…""
"Yes," interrupted Kamei-san with a slight smile. "I used to buy
ships, abandon them, and then sell them. Not very smart.""
The conversation was interrupted when their tickets were called,
group G-07, assigned for inspection:
"Cabin 12B, passenger 134, Kenji Satō!"
A loud voice called the passenger in nostalgic Japanese.
"They're calling me, Jack. Stay here."
Kamei-san got up and headed toward the cabin. However, Jack
was still very nervous being in a place like this:
"But your name isn't Kenji!"
Kamei-san murmured something in Chinese, mixed with nervousness.
"Quiet."
"Damn, Jack, sometimes you really act like a child"
The interrogation lasted almost two hours. Although their names
were Japanese, their appearance raised suspicion. Kamei-san
showed Chinese features, and Jack did not look Japanese.
Jack could not answer anything, as he did not know the language.
Kamei-san acted as interpreter, calming the tension. His charisma
and old-style Japanese made the officer smile, who finally granted them
passage. No one knew how he made him laugh.
And to extend their stay in Japan, he said:
"My purpose is to fulfill filial duty and visit a relative residing
in Sagamihara," he added, displaying the formality of past
times, as if he were an elderly gentleman.
The gangways opened, and they could step into Yokohama, where
the old and new coexisted: rickshaws beside motor buses, temples
with curved roofs next to wooden and brick warehouses, neon signs
just turned on mixing with paper lanterns.
The aroma of tea, fresh fish, and cooking oil floated in the air,
as passersby crossed the streets quickly, some dressed in traditional
style, others in Western suits.
Jack smiled, mesmerized by the bustle, colors, and sounds of the
city:
"This is amazing…"
And as if welcoming them to the islands of the sun, a beautiful
piece of the era played on the speakers: ""Kyu Sakamoto – Sukiyaki"".
"What a beautiful song," mentioned Jack.
"Well, we have to keep moving," replied Kamei-san.
"What? But…"
""Come on, Jack, we have to get to Vietnam.""
"But look, this place is incredible, it's not like the U.S., it feels
more… I don't know… familiar…"
"Wouldn't you like to visit it?" insisted Jack.
Kamei-san laughed a little.
"I'm sorry, Jack, but we can't do that. I want to get home as
quickly as possible."
"And also,"" he continued, ""even though I like Japan, I won't deny
that, the food here isn't that great. I prefer Chinese food a thousand
times more."
"Ah, well," said Jack. He was a bit disappointed but understood
the situation.
Kamei-san reminded him:
"Also, remember we didn't come here for sightseeing. We came because
we must find the saint of the land."
"Is that what you told the guards?"" asked Jack.
"No," replied Kamei-san. "If I had told them that, they probably
wouldn't have let us leave the pier."
"Oh, my God."" Jack swallowed. ""That means… you lied?"
"Yes. I don't have any known relatives here, not even a friend.
The vast majority died two centuries ago."
"Two centuries?" said Jack, incredulous.
"Of course," confirmed Kamei-san, "but I must admit it's
unrecognizable now, like everything that happens in this world."
"Very well, Jack," added Kamei-san. "The good thing is that, despite
the inspection, I managed to hide almost the entire stack of bills
inside my clothes."
"Knowing ports well," he continued, "they have the horrible habit of
stealing money. I don't know if it's the same in Japan, but I don't
want to find out."
"Jack, listen to me," said Kamei-san. "Try not to talk too much
here. I don't know what Japan is like now, but the vast majority
of Japanese are racist."
"So, please, I ask you not to say anything. Don't mention anything,
and please, don't speak Chinese."
"You have no idea how much the Japanese hate China," he added. "That's
why, even though I love this country, I also feel a slight hatred for it.
Although honestly, I think things have improved."
Jack sensed a little of Kamei-san's resentment toward Japan,
and at the same time, a love that was not entirely separate from hate.
"Well," said Jack, ignoring the comment, "do you want to eat?
Do you really want to eat? Here, they don't use salt, right?"
"Well, some things yes, others no," replied Kamei-san. "But the vast
majority don't. And frankly, I don't like it."
"But well, it doesn't matter. Don't worry."
"Now what we have to do is the following," continued Kamei-san.
"We must stay unnoticed in the city because I am a civilized person,
Jack. I don't like to draw attention like some idiot."
"What we have to do is get to Fukuoka."
"And for what?" asked Jack.
"We will go because it's the easiest way to buy a boat and continue
to southern Korea."
"If we go to southern Korea, it will be easier to reach Vietnam,"
explained Kamei-san.
"You think?" asked Jack.
"Oh, of course. If we reach southern Korea, we can restock supplies
and go to one of the islands in Taiwan."
"If we go there, we can travel from port to port until Vietnam,
which is just east of Thailand."
"How long will it take to get there, Kamei-san?" asked Jack.
"If we leave this city quickly and go through the mountains, we'll arrive
faster," explained Kamei-san. "That way we can get various wild
things that aren't in the markets."
"But do you know what's good about Japan?" said Kamei-san. "Its sake.
My God, you have no idea how much I adore it."
"Really?" asked Jack, surprised.
"Well, more or less," replied Kamei-san. "Russians have a stronger
passion for their alcohol, I think."
"Really?" replied Jack, curious.
"Oh, I don't know, Jack," concluded Kamei-san. "I don't usually stay
long in Japan. It's a complicated country."
"Calm down, Jack… I don't hate Japan," said Kamei-san. "What I
hate is their fanaticism."
Kamei-san said sarcastically, "The so-called pride of the Land of the
Rising Sun, and that we have to purify Asia."
"You have no idea how much it pisses me off that the Japanese people
classify my people as inferior, arrogant, and haughty."
"And I know because I saw it… and I lived it," he added in a serious voice.
"It's horrible that they threaten your land for an expansionist ideal, and
that they threaten your children. That's another reason I went to war."
Jack was left stunned. However, Kamei-san interrupted:
"Forget it, now we must focus on going to Fukuoka."
____________________________________________________
While all this was happening in Japan, in Lisbon… it was already
midnight.
Teodoro woke up startled: another nightmare.
The house was almost silent. Only Helena remained awake, walking
nervously back and forth across the living room.
The nona was not there; she had gone to visit her sick sister.
Why would she leave the house if she had barely known Helena
for a few days? Very simple: the father would not return for two months,
and she needed someone to take care of the child in the meantime.
Also, although at first the nona had her prejudices against people of
African descent, she soon came to respect Helena.
On the first day Helena worked, she accompanied the nona to the
market. Everything went well… until a man tried to touch her inappropriately.
Or so she thought, because in reality he put his hands on the nona.
Helena reacted instantly, without thinking of the consequences: she
grabbed him by the neck and was about to send him to hell, but let him go
before causing a scandal.
She went to the worried nona:
"Are you okay, ma'am?" she asked, her fury contained. "That idiot! How dare
he do something like that?"
The nona felt protected. And even more when she saw Helena carry
all the market bags effortlessly, as if they were feathers.
They returned at noon. Before Helena organized her new room, the nona
asked her to put away the groceries and tidy the house.
Helena did everything calmly, leaving the place spotless, and finally,
while looking at her freshly made bed, she thought with a smile:
"This job isn't exhausting. Finally, I have my own bed. If mom could see
me now… she would be so proud."
While daydreaming at her new bed and dresser, Helena was watched by
the nona from the doorway. The elderly woman couldn't help feeling bad
for being somewhat prejudiced and murmured:
"This girl is a biscocho con manjarblanco."
However, the calm of the first days was interrupted by terrible news:
the nona's sister had fallen down the stairs at her niece's house and
was gravely ill.
The nona entered a moral struggle.
She didn't know if she should let Helena take care of Teodoro
for four days without adult supervision.
She asked Teodoro's father for permission, but he firmly refused to
let her leave the house. Seeing the nona's vulnerable situation,
Helena offered to stay with Teodoro and take care of him herself.
The nona initially refused; however, Teodoro ended up convincing her
that the best thing would be to go visit his sick sister.
"Nona, you always take care of me. Don't worry, I won't tell dad.
Also, if he finds out from others that you left, he might fire you.
Trust me, Helena."
The nona hesitated. She had an internal struggle, but she remembered
the angel dream and understood that perhaps it was destiny.
Thus, finally, the nona left. Before departing, she asked Teodoro
to call her if Helena did anything inappropriate.
And that was how the first day passed. It was midnight.
Teodoro woke up. Helena was still on guard.
"Helena, why are you awake?" he asked.
"And you? You should be sleeping," she replied.
"I can't sleep."
"Oh, Teodoro… to be honest, I can't either."
She sighed; stressed, she sat on the sofa, while Teodoro didn't know
the reason for her worry.
"Is it because of the news on the radio?" he said.
Helena reacted like a scared cat.
"No!… it's not that," she said in an evasive voice.
"If you're afraid of the South Atlantic terrorists, they won't come here."
Helena let out a nervous squeak, almost like a hamster.
Teodoro smiled.
"Why do you make those sounds? You remind me of my rabbits."
Helena saw nothing funny about it. She was truly too stressed.
"If you're scared, I can take care of you," he said innocently.
Helena couldn't help blushing.
"Ow… Teodoro, you can't help being such a lovable guy."
He responded nervously:
"Well… it's just… I… don't… but…"
"Jajajaja," she laughed loudly, "and on top of that you make me laugh,
you're the full package, Teodoro."
"Alright, Teodoro. I feel calmer now. But you should go to sleep."
"I just can't," he replied.
"Come on, boy," said Helena.
And without warning, Helena held the small body of the boy by the
legs and neck, carrying him delicately.
Teodoro tensed as he felt the weight of his own body in Helena's
arms; he couldn't help feeling uncomfortable, embarrassed, and even
intimidated by the confidence with which she held him.
"Put me down!… I'm not a child."
He brought his hands to his face, so red he was.
Helena replied:
"Until you turn twenty, you'll remain a little creature to me."
"What?… That doesn't make sense, I'm already a man."
"Oh, really? How old are you?"
"Fourteen years old."
"Oww, the little one who's one meter sixty is fourteen, oh Teodoro,
you're such a cutie."
She carried Teodoro to his bed and laid him down carefully, then
sat next to him.
"Do you want me to read you a story?"
"I'm not a child… but yes… please."
"But don't fall asleep this time," he joked.
"Please, as if I would," she said. She looked through one of the books on her shelf, and after reading the
first three pages of the prologue, she fell asleep, as if the book were a
sleeping pill.
"Helena?"
"Ah yes, sorry and…"
""And to remember… to imagine… allows one to imagine…""
""Isn't it imagine yourself?"" —corrected Teodoro.
"Oh! Excuse me! I barely went to school!" she apologized, laughing.
"Don't worry," he said. "My nona usually reads me the books. You don't
have to do it if you don't want to."
Helena thought:
"Mierda, se me olvida que no puede ver."
"La lectura, tal vez fue una de sus pasiones."
"No sé cómo perdió la vista, pero, si no puede leer solo…"
"Entonces… yo seré sus ojos."
She tried again.
""The atrocious hunger of I…""
She stopped. She sighed.
"You know what?" she said, giving up. "I'm a practical woman, you go
to sleep, okay?"
"Alright," replied Teodoro.
Helena felt bad, but an idea crossed her mind while she smiled
tenderly.
"I know what you need."
"Goodnight, Helena…" he murmured, half asleep.
However, Teodoro felt something more than just her thoughts; he
felt how Helena's huge hands held his cheeks, imposing and warm.
Helena delicately brought her lips to his nose, remembering what her
mother used to do when she was little.
"Oh mom, what good habits you left me besides the drink."
She kissed him on the nose and on the forehead. She caressed him
tenderly and whispered:
"Goodnight, Teodoro."
She left with the book in her hand and carefully closed the door.
Teodoro's heart wouldn't stop beating. His mind was everywhere
and nowhere at the same time. He could only think:
"Did she kiss me?"
Meanwhile, Helena tried to focus on reading: A Menina do Mar, by
Sophia de Mello Breyner Andresen.
It was the book she had taken from the shelf, holding a lamp in her hand.
""The boy sat every day on the beach to watch the sea. Sometimes the
sea was calm and blue, other times green and furious…""
"Shit, how boring…"
Helena's mind wasn't on the reading, but on her mother. She could
only think of one thing:
"Mom… forgive me, please… I should have listened to you."