Errand of Mercy: An unexpected sidequest FINAL CHAPTER

Tying up one loose end, and a flashback to 2013

I had one last thing to do. On the pilgrimage, it is customary to present an ofuda, or a sacred paper with your name and wish, to any one who offers you assistance. I already tendered one to Auntie Emiko in thanks for housing and feeding me for 5 days with no notice. What a saint. I also wanted to give an ofuda to Ted Kitamura, the most fascinating person I have ever met.

As I alluded to earlier, in 2013 I went on a mission under orders from my Auntie Ruby to track down Emiko and Ted Kitamura and give a report regarding their general physical and mental state. I had intelligence that they were both in the Tokyo area. This turned out to be slightly inaccurate, as their true location was in the suburbs of Kyushu, about 500 MILES AWAY. Still, it was better intelligence than the utter bullshit that got us into Iraq. After a lengthy train trek and some clutch assistance from the Imari city office, I met Auntie Emiko for the first time. Awkward introductions aside, we hit it off quickly, and to my delight, Emiko announced that we would be meeting with my pseudo cousin Ted Kitamura the next day. It would be the first time mother and son had met in 4 years.

What little I knew about the man had already intrugued me. As a biracial child raised by a single mother in what was then rural Kyushu, I can only imagine how rough his youth must have been. The Japanese media now features a cornucopia of multi racial stars, mostly pretty girls on talk shows and star athletes, but the Japan of the 1970s where Ted grew up was a far less accepting environment. Despite this, Ted (or Ted-do as his name is pronounced) became an excellent athlete and karate practitioner, and later joined the Rangers of the Japanese Ground Self Defense Force. He was there for 12 years, and then left the military for reasons I have not yet discovered. Supposedly he was now both studying psychology and dabbling in fortune telling with a renowned master in the city of Kokura.

Kokura is only about 2 hours away by train from Imari, but it may have been the longest trip Emiko had taken in years. At the train station, I got my first look at Ted Kitamura. Aside from his attire of a beanie and a vaguely militaristic coat that suggested 'veteran,' I never would have picked him out from the crowd. In his old military photos you could perhaps see slight clues of his mixed heritage, but the man I saw before me was both in physical appearance and mannerisms the most Japanese man I have ever met. He greeted his mother with all the warmth and emotion of an estate lawyer. Unlike Emiko, who made great pains to meet me halfway with the language barrier, Ted made no such accommodations. Though he spoke clearly and concisely, he did not attempt to speak English once. We took an obligatory walk to Kokura castle, and had lunch. Though he and his mother chatted, there seemed to be a vast distance between them. I may as well have been just some health care aide assisting Auntie Emiko during her visit to the city, and due to the language barrier I couldn't get the slightest impression of Ted.

But then, in his own way, Ted started to open up the slightest bit. We went next to the Kokura Public Library, where Ted went to read books on psychology. The ease with which he navigated the isles seemed to suggest he came here a lot. This must be one of his favorite places. I started to ask him about movies like Taxi Driver and The Deer Hunter. I thought that maybe we could bond over those, since we both seemed to be military veterans adrift in society. Then Ted took us to the cafe where his fortune telling guru works. The guy looked like famous comic book artist Osamu Tezuka, and was outgoing and gregarious, the polar opposite of Ted. Supposedly he had predicted that an emissary from the Tayag clan would be coming to Japan, and there I was. An oracle and an army vet seemed like an odd match, but it seemed that Ted's guru was one of the only people that could be considered his friend. Huh. He took us to his favorite places and introduced us to his friend. Even if we can't understand a damn thing we say to each other, I think I can understand that.

When we parted at the train station, he gave me an omamori, a paper amulet bearing a chant and inscription for safety and good luck. Awkwardly fumbling to reciprocate, I gave him some random Philippine pesos I had in my wallet for some reason. As we shook hands, Ted's normally dour funeral mask cracked the slightest milimeter. His expression still made the Mona Lisa look like the Cheshire Cat, but it did change, ever so slightly. The next day, I said goodbye to Auntie Emiko and went back to America.

Back to the present in 2015, after some assistance from a random half-Korean dude, I found the fortune telling cafe we went to 2 years previous. Ted was not there, as I assumed he would not be, but the fortune telling guru was there, as I had hoped. I entrusted one of my Thank You ofudas to the guru's care, to deliver to Ted at the first opportunity. A charm for a charm, at long last. That night, I returned to Shikoku by ferry to complete the pilgrimage.