Three-Quarters of My Blood
I have Korean blood running through my veins.
In my past life, and in this one too — I have Korean blood running through my veins.
In my past life, it never really mattered much that I was Korean.
But this life is a little — no, a lot — different.
"Moi, remember this. Three-quarters of the blood in your veins is Korean."
#. March 1, 2016
#-1. Oahu, Hawaii, USA
#-2. Honolulu
The place where I stood right now was my grandmother's house.
It was my grandfather's house, too.
My father, who worked at a bank in Honolulu, stayed here on weekdays and flew his small propeller plane back to Maui every weekend.
I'd been coming here often myself, ever since I was little.
My grandparents were wonderful people.
"Today is the day Korea declared its independence, you know."
"March 1st, 1919 — the day our proud ancestors rose up against Japanese colonial rule and declared independence, right?"
"Exactly right."
My grandmother had been born into a well-off family in Korea.
That was how she'd been able to take a trip to Hawaii at all.
On a rainy day long ago, my grandfather caught sight of a young woman sprinting through the downpour, shielding her head with her bag because she had no umbrella — and he fell in love at first sight.
At first, my grandmother was terrified of him, a hulking Samoan man. But he brought her freshly picked flowers every single day and worked so earnestly to greet her with a gentle smile, and little by little, her heart opened.
Of course, it cost them dearly. Her family opposed the marriage fiercely, and in the end she severed ties with them completely.
But their love never cooled. A few months later, they held a modest wedding on Oahu.
And between these two, my father was born.
Then my uncle, and my aunt, and the rest.
"So, Moi. What brings you here? How's school?"
Grandmother had been about to teach me the meaning of Independence Day before properly welcoming her grandson, and I decided to share a little secret with her first.
Namely—
"You skipped a grade?"
"Yes. Actually... it's been a little while now."
"Good heavens. Why are you only telling me this now?"
Why, indeed.
Because I was afraid she'd tell me to come live here immediately.
As much as I loved spending time with my grandmother, I had things I needed to do on Maui.
I had to help at Mom's shop.
I had promises to keep with Aunt Mel.
And above all, I had to keep training.
"Let's start with food, shall we? You must be hungry."
"Ah... honestly, not that hungry— and she's already gone."
The clatter of cookware drifted out from the kitchen.
In moments, a wonderful smell filled the house.
Resisting that was a losing battle.
Every time I stayed a day at my grandmother's house, I gained a full kilogram.
Today I'd be eating until I burst, too.
"So. Moi."
"Yes, Grandfather."
"Have you decided on a high school?"
"I have."
Having quietly waited his turn while Grandmother and I talked, my grandfather listened as I told him I'd probably be attending a school here in Honolulu.
He said Grandmother would love that.
"Um... well, about that."
"?"
It was an hour-long drive from here to the school.
In Hawaii, that distance was just everyday life — but I was about to start playing football in earnest, and I had no intention of wasting two hours a day just commuting.
"I'm planning to live in the dorms."
"Your grandmother will be sad."
"Whew— you'll help me out, right?"
"Goodness. You're trying to tie my hands and feet together, aren't you?"
"Consider it a bonus favor."
My grandfather shook his head at my wide grin, then rose from his chair and headed for the kitchen.
Age had thinned him down from his younger days, but he still felt bigger than me somehow.
It was no wonder my dad and uncles had all grown up so well-mannered.
A short while later, Grandmother came out.
"Why on earth would you stay in a dorm when you could live here?"
"I want to train more."
"What about meals?"
"I hear the food there isn't bad. The family will send me an allowance, and besides, I've got money I've been saving since I was little."
"You've been saving money? You?"
"Yes, ma'am."
I'd been helping my mother since I was four years old.
The tips alone added up to more than twenty thousand dollars.
I'd originally planned to give half of it to Mom, but she flatly refused and told me to spend it on things I needed instead.
"Good heavens. Moi."
Shaken by the passbook I'd shyly shown her, my grandmother rose from her seat and pulled me into a tight hug.
She said that after everything I'd done, there was nothing more to say.
I could live in the dorms.
"In exchange — you come visit once a week."
"Yes. I promise."
Just as I'd expected, I ate lunch until I was on the verge of bursting.
So, to help it all go down, I stepped out into the yard with my grandfather.
My grandfather's hobby was tending the garden.
He was a gentle, meticulous man who loved nature.
Only once in my life — when I was little — had I seen him lose his temper, at a group of tourists who were wrecking the island's natural beauty. That man wet himself right where he stood.
One hundred percent true, without a shred of exaggeration.
And watching that, I made a vow to myself.
Always listen to Grandfather.
So far, I'd kept it.
"Nobody's been teasing you lately, have they?"
"Aw, c'mon. Who'd pick on me?"
"Haha. True enough. Still — Moi? No matter what anyone says, you are a proud Samoan. A descendant of the great Fuamatu, at that."
"...Yes, sir. I remember it well."
The truth was, my grandfather had been cut off from his own family, too.
Because he'd chosen my grandmother over the bride chosen for him.
His name had originally been Hawea Joseph Fuamatu, but after his family disowned him, he'd had no choice but to take a new name — one stripped of his Samoan identity.
Even so, every man in the family still used the surname Fuamatu unofficially.
We kept all the traditions of the clan, and we took enormous pride in the name.
And yet — Kauai, where the clansmen lived, was the one place in Hawaii I had never once set foot, despite living here all my life.
"You remind me of yourself as a little boy. You used to fight every single day."
"It was to defend the name."
When I was young, the mischievous kids in the neighborhood loved to taunt me. ["Fake Samoan."]
So every time it happened, we traded blows and rolled around in the dirt more times than I could count — and eventually, nobody said it to my face anymore.
Even now, though, certain adults still eyed me with disdain.
A Samoan with Korean blood mixed in, they'd say.
Whatever.
It didn't exactly break my heart.
Being rejected was an old, familiar feeling.
If anything, I was satisfied with the life I had now.
My previous life had been so far beyond compare in its misery that it wasn't even a contest.
By those standards, I was living in paradise.
That was probably why the people around me saw me in such a positive light.
"Dad."
"Moi. Good to see you, son."
"Hi, Dad. I'll hang up my bag."
"Thank you."
That afternoon, I spent time with my father when he got home from work.
After dinner, the two of us each claimed a hammock on the terrace.
"Is everything ready?"
"Of course."
"No, Moi. I mean mentally. Are you ready up here?"
"Ah. Yes. That too."
"Good. Then we're set."
Youth football had only taken root in Hawaii about five years earlier.
And yet in just those two years, the islands had produced two schools ranked in the national high school Top 50 — and Kahuku, the school I'd be attending, had been rated in the Top 20 since last season.
Below-average quarterbacks.
Abysmal tactical understanding.
The reason they could compete at that level anyway was simple: more than half the students on the football teams were Samoan.
And we were physically exceptional.
We learned anything involving the body at lightning speed.
And we grew at lightning speed, too.
Every Samoan playing in the NFL right now had never touched a football until they left the islands for college on the mainland.
"Dad."
"..."
"They're at Kahuku, aren't they."
"..."
I took my father's silence for a yes.
They were at Kahuku.
My blood.
My distant kin.
The Fuamatus.
"Moi? Don't you dare lose to them."
"I won't. And Grandfather — you're going to hate hearing this, but."
"?"
"I'm a proud Stone, too."
My father broke into a warm smile and reached over to squeeze my shoulder. After that, father and son lay back in the hammocks and watched the night sky together.
Stars, blooming in riotous abundance.
I had always loved the Hawaiian sky.
#. March 2, 2016
#-1. Oahu, Hawaii, USA
#-2. Kahuku CDP, Honolulu
#-3. Kahuku High School
"23!! 64!!"
"..."
"..."
"HUT!!"
The thunderous cadence had barely faded when a dozen helmets and shoulder pads collided at once.
On the field, the warriors' forearms rippled with tendon as they locked together — until one side finally gave way, and a highway opened straight to the control tower.
A moment later, that massive frame plowed into the control tower.
THUD!!
"Heeeey!!!"
A Sack.
The moment the quarterback went down behind the line before he could get his pass off, Gavin Travis, head coach of the Kahuku High School football team, yanked off his headset in frustration.
Behind him, the assistant coaches ran the substitution.
The offense and defense had just swapped sides of the ball.
"Jordan! Jordan!!"
"..."
"What the hell? You had your chance!!"
The player pulling off his helmet to reveal his face, number 12, was Kahuku High's quarterback — Jordan Marterangi.
Born on the island of Kauai, a twelfth-grader, and this season's starting quarterback.
"He was too far away."
"Too far — Jordan!"
"..."
"Do you see those people sitting in the stands right now, huh? If you want to show them you belong at a mainland college, you have to drop that long ball in the bucket exactly like the moment you just had!"
"..."
Jordan Marterangi glanced up at the stands.
College scouts sat there.
"Playing quarterback is a blessing, Jordan. The whole team exists for you and you alone. So next time, do not let that chance slip."
"Yes, sir."
"Good. Take a breather."
In football, each team could field a maximum of eleven players.
Ten was fine — but a twelfth brought a penalty.
And while twenty-one of those men ground their bodies against each other in brutal, aching collision, the quarterback alone held the ball and beheld the entire field.
The most glamorous position in all of sport.
Some called it the flower of athletics.
God's sake. Timid as that, and he's our QB...
Disappointed by Jordan Marterangi's deflated posture, Gavin Travis scratched his head and looked up at the scoreboard.
Fourth quarter.
Two minutes and forty-six seconds remaining.
The score: 17 to 21.
Plenty of time to come back.
Besides, Kahuku High's defensive line was considered one of the five best in the entire nation.
Three brothers from the Fuamatu family each held one of the key positions on defense, and just now the eldest, Sioele, had bailed the unit out with a picture-perfect interception.
And now, once again, the offense and defense traded places.
Gavin called Jordan over.
"You understand, right? Be bold this time."
"Whew— yes, sir."
"Run RPO and carve them up. Stack the bunch out front and hit Royce. Got it?"
"Yes Sir!"
"Good. Let's Go, Let's Go!!"
The personnel changed once more, and with one minute and thirty-eight seconds on the clock, Kahuku's final possession began.
As the crowd roared its hope for a comeback, the play kicked off on a booming cadence — and Jordan Marterangi fumbled the snap, a rookie mistake if there ever was one.
Players from both teams hurled themselves at the loose ball, and the referee, burrowing into the mountain of bodies, thrust his hand out to the left.
In that instant, joy and despair split the two sidelines like a blade.
Possession, turned over.
Kahuku had kicked away its own chance at a comeback.
Because of one single player's mistake — the quarterback.
"What the..."
Emotions boiling over.
Gavin Travis could barely hold back the curse.
The game ended, in the end, 17:21 — a Kahuku High School defeat. Swallowing his disappointment, Gavin Travis forced himself to console his players, moving from one to the next.
The last one was the team's quarterback, hurting worse than anyone.
He hesitated a few times, then clapped Jordan on the shoulder.
"It's alright, Jordan. It's alright."
"..."
He'd said it was alright, but in truth, nothing about it was.
The defensive line was all juniors.
The receivers and running backs, all seniors, were solid too.
People said the offensive line was merely decent — but with even one real quarterback, standing at the very top of the national high school football ranks wouldn't have been a dream at all.
That was what a quarterback was in football.
Without one, points simply did not happen.
And so he reduced everyone else to supporting cast.
The most important, most influential, and simultaneously most visible position of any team sport on Earth.
To carry that weight, you needed something special.
"Hm?"
Having finished greeting the fans, Gavin Travis headed for the locker room.
And then, someone caught his eye.
Young in the face — but the body was anything but.
Gavin Travis's face lit up at once.
Even the ache of defeat vanished clean away.
He couldn't help himself. He shouted.
"Moi!"
Dwayne Moi Stone. Next year's Kahuku High freshman — and the talent who would carry this team to its next level.
Still grinning, Gavin called out again.
"Come by my office later!"
"Yes, sir!"
And at that moment, there were others watching the whole scene unfold.
Every last one of them wore a sour, hostile expression.
The defensive line Kahuku High was so proud of.
Seniors who carried the name Fuamatu.
"Fake Samoan."
"He thinks he can come here?"
"Let's show him what this place is."
"Obviously."
As some forgettable football player once put it, Moi's path to settling in at Kahuku High School was not going to be an easy one.
Being a quarterback in your school days means becoming the best even among the strongest, most popular boys in school. And the journey there is much like a loner clawing his way to the top of the pecking order.
But.
Moi was going to do it anyway.