At Six Years Old: How We Became Childhood Friends (1)
I was pretty young back then, too. Aki Fujiwara was only six years old and a foreigner who didn't know much about our country, so it would have been perfectly normal for her to ask something like, Did you come from North Korea or South Korea? Instead, I launched into a serious explanation of the difference between the two, my pronunciation still soft and lisping around the baby teeth I hadn't lost yet.
"North Korea is North Korea, and South Korea is South Korea. But since we're in South Korea, where do you think I came from?"
Of course, my explanation was basically the clumsy logic of a six-year-old, full of holes.
"Um... North Korea...?"
My stubborn insistence hit the language barrier between Japanese and Korean and went nowhere. After all, I was Korean and she was Japanese. If her grandparents at the Japanese Embassy hadn't made her learn a little Korean, we probably couldn't have exchanged a single word.
But the me back then had no idea about any of that. I was just frustrated that Aki Fujiwara couldn't understand what I was saying.
"No, not North Korea. This is South Korea, okay? South. The southern one. South Korea. Get it?"
"......?"
"......"
The moment we ran into a complicated topic, the lack of foreign language skills left me unable to explain anything properly. That was the first time the thought hit me: Ah, I'm still a really lacking person. Getting a perfect score on a kindergarten test didn't mean I could act smug. There were still so many things in the world I didn't know.
Because of that memory, I threw myself into studying afterward and managed to keep getting good grades... but honestly, that part of the story doesn't really matter.
"Oh, right! There's this thing. Hey, wait a second, okay?"
I may have been young and lacking in lots of ways, but my ability to improvise was apparently outstanding.
"Here!"
"...What's this?"
"This is called Papago. Basically it's a translator. If there's something Aki and I can't understand, this will let us know it easily!"
It makes sense. What six-year-old would think to pull out a cell phone and open a translation app in that situation? In truth, I was just copying a tip my diplomat parents had given me: You should definitely use this when you go abroad later. But pulling it out at exactly the right moment was, even now, a move I can proudly call inspired.
"Translator...?"
"Just watch. I'll show you. ...Hello?"
"You can speak Japanese?!"
"Huh? Ah, hang on. If you have something you want to say, can you say it into this?"
Even though we couldn't understand each other's native languages, we still had body language, the world's universal tongue. I gestured and pointed at the phone to show she should speak into it. Aki Fujiwara understood somehow. Hesitantly, carefully, she spoke.
"Hello."
"Hello. What's your name?"
"I am... Fujiwara. Aki Fujiwara."
"Aha, Aki Fujiwara. My name is Ju Wooju. The family name is Ju, the given name is Wooju. It's the same forwards and backwards, so it's easy to remember, right?"
"Wooju... Yeah, I remembered. Wooju-san."
"Wooju-san? Ah, no no. It's not Wooju-san, it's Wooju. Ju isn't my first name, it's my last name."
"Um, so... Ju. Ju-san."
In Korea, calling friends by first names only is completely normal. But in Japan, unless you're really close, you don't call someone by their given name alone. Doing so when you're not close is a serious breach of etiquette. Between people who aren't close, it's standard to use the family name plus san. When you get closer, you drop the family name and use the given name plus san. Even further, you add chan. I didn't know any of that at the time.
Later I learned this unique Japanese way of addressing people is called Yobisite, but it's not that important, so let's move on.
"No, my name is Wooju. Not Wooju-san. Here, repeat after me. Wooju!"
"...Wooju-san?"
"Not Wooju-san. Wooju. Wooju!"
"Woojuu-san...?"
"Don't drag it out. Short. Wooju!"
"Wooju-san..."
"Can't you drop the san at the end?"
"......"
"...Yeah, well. That's good enough. You did well. From now on you can call me Wooju-san. I'll call you Aki too. Okay?"
"Eh...?"
"Why? Is something wrong?"
"Ah, um..."
Aki Fujiwara, or rather Aki, looked like she wanted to say something but pressed her lips shut. There was clearly something she wanted to tell me, but she gave up, assuming I wouldn't understand.
"Okay, so going back to the beginning. South Korea is the south one, North Korea is the north one. This is South Korea, right? So where do you think I came from?"
"S-South Korea?"
"That's it! Correct answer. You're really smart, you know that?"
"Yeah. Aki is smart. My mom said Aki is smart too."
"Oh, you came with your mom? Aki, you're Japanese, right? Why did you come to Korea?"
"Wooju-san, what does the word you just said mean?"
"Ah, the translator. Oh, I was asking if you're Japanese and why you came to Korea!"
"Ah, I see. Yes, I'm Japanese. More precisely, my father is Japanese and my mother is French, so I'm mixed. The reason I came to Korea is because I followed my grandfather and papa. I don't know the details well, but grandfather and papa said they had a really, really important job and absolutely had to come to Korea."
"If you followed your grandfather and dad, does that mean your mom is still in Japan?"
"Yes, in Tokyo. Mama is a very famous model, so she couldn't come to Korea with us. She's extremely busy."
"Wow, really? Aki's mom is a model. My mom is a diplomat."
"Does Wooju-san's mama work at the Ministry of Foreign Affairs?"
"Ministry of Foreign Affairs? You mean like the diplomatic service? Yeah, that's right. Both my mom and dad are diplomats. What does Aki's dad do?"
"Ah, my papa is a diplomat too, and so is my grandfather!"
"Oh, so both our dads are diplomats? What a coincidence, huh?"
When you consider that the place where Aki and I met was the Japanese Embassy in Korea, it wasn't actually that surprising. But as I've said, six-year-old kids couldn't possibly understand that kind of connection.
Aki and I simply thought it was amazing that our fathers shared the same job, and that common ground led us naturally into talking about each other's dads.
"Yeah, it is! It's really, really amazing, Wooju-san! ...Ah."
She seemed embarrassed at raising her voice. A cute blush spread across Aki's face. Her features were strikingly exotic, but her reactions were surprisingly big. I couldn't help thinking she was adorable and let out a small laugh.
"What about Wooju-san's papa? Is he scary? Is he strict?"
"Hmm, no. My dad isn't that scary. He always brings me toys and sometimes takes me and Mom out to buy lots of delicious food."
"I'm so jealous of Wooju-san. My papa is really scary. Whenever I make a mistake his face gets all scrunched up like this and he turns into a demon..."
"I see. So do you dislike your dad, Aki?"
"Um, no. Papa is scary but I like him. The one I really dislike is grandfather."
"Why do you dislike grandfather?"
"Aki said she didn't want to go to Korea, that she had lots of friends in Japan and wanted to stay with Mama, but he forced me to come anyway. That's why I dislike him."
"Ah..."
When I was little, I moved around a lot because of my parents' work. I changed kindergartens and daycares constantly. I'd start getting close to the other kids only to have to leave them behind when we moved again. I'd been through that several times, so I could understand how Aki felt. Of course, unlike her I'd never gone to a completely foreign country, so I couldn't say I understood completely. Still, I knew very well how lonely it was to be forced to leave your friends and be left alone in a place full of strangers.
"Then when will you go back to Japan, Aki?"
"I don't know. It could be one year or two years. Whether we return is entirely up to grandfather."
"...I see."
That's when I thought to myself: this slightly timid Japanese girl my age had been suddenly dropped into a strange place and was feeling lonely. Wasn't there something I could do for her?
"Hey, Aki."
After thinking for a moment, a good idea came to me.
"Do you want to go outside with me?"
"Huh? Outside?"
"Yeah. Won't it be lonely staying here by yourself for a whole year? So I'll show you lots of fun things. What do you think?"
"Ah, that, um..."
"Why? Don't you want to?"
"No, it's not that I don't want to... But we aren't friends yet."
"...Huh? Weren't we already friends? Do you dislike me, Aki?"
I asked what seemed like the most obvious question in the world. Aki looked startled, as if she hadn't expected it, and her eyes darted around.
"Ah, no! It's not that I dislike you, but we only met today, so we're not close friends yet..."
"Then we can become friends starting now and get closer. Right?"
"Ah, th-that..."
Six-year-old Aki was incredibly shy.
"S-Should we...?"
But she couldn't hide the happy look on her face as she gave me a small nod.
"Okay. Let's do it. We're friends starting now, yeah?"
"Yeah... friends..."
"...Then it's okay to play together now, right? Since we're friends."
"R-Right? ...Ah?!"
The me from back then had no sense of personal space. I boldly grabbed Aki's hand.
"Let's go, Aki!"
"E-Eh...?!"
And so, in that haphazard way, we became friends, walking outside together hand in hand.