As promised,

[camwyn]

Late August, 1945

Private First Class Joe Guarini, U.S. Army Signal Corps, 232nd Signal Operations Company, was just about ready to give up. "Look," he said to the ball of pale reddish fuzz grr'ing fiercely at his bootlaces, "I can't leave you here if you don't stay in your box, all right? It's a perfectly- look, stop that, will ya, pup? Come on. . ."

The puppy yipped, wagging its curly little tail, then pounced on his boots. Joe sighed. "You're not gonna just stay here and be quiet, are you." He leaned over and scratched the puppy behind the ears. "Thought pups your age were supposed to spend half their time sleeping?"

Quite naturally the puppy failed to notice. It had, after all, gotten the drop on its mortal enemy. Joe just shook his head as the little beast tugged on his laces, struggling in vain against the double knot. "All right, fine. You can come with me." He scooped up the protesting puppy, then the box and worn-out blanket he'd put together for his unexpected guest. "But I'm warning you, if you run off on me, I'm not gonna come looking for you. Yokohama's a big place and I haven't seen half of it yet."

***


Joe's warning, it turned out, was a moot point. Exhausted by his battle with the private's boots, the pup promptly fell asleep in the crook of Joe's arm. It barely made a whimper of protest as Joe settled him into the box; not even the rattling of the Jeep over the streets of Yokohama disturbed the little beast. Joe shook his head and smiled. He had to admit, it was pretty cute. Maybe he'd be able to ship it home with him when his tour in Japan was up.

He pulled the Jeep to a stop not far from where the latest supply ship for the Company was unloading and hopped out, waving to the crew. At the end of the nearest gangplank one of the men turned, looking over his shoulder; he grinned and handed his clipboard to the guy next to him. "Hey, Joe," he greeted, ambling over to the parked Jeep. "Finally let you out of your cage, huh?"

"Shaddup, Don," replied Joe amiably. "For your information, they let me out yesterday. Figured I knew enough of the lingo that they could spare me to talk to the locals."

"Didn't know you were a translator, Joe," said Don with some surprise. "Hey, hey, watch that, you morons-"

Joe waited for Don to finish chewing out the clumsy unloading crew before shaking his head. "Nah. Nothing official. I told you about my dad's restaurant, right?"

"Yeah."

"Yeah, well, he had me washing dishes and bussing tables soon as I was old enough. That's what I was doing when my number came up."

"So?"

"So, long as I can remember, one of the other dishwashers was a Jap. Worked like a crazy man, looked like Admiral Tojo."

"No kidding?" Don raised his eyebrows, turning back towards the Jeep. "You picked it up from him?"

"Yeah. Nothing you could ever use in front of the brass, though. Dunno what happened to him, he left the restaurant a little before I got called. . ."

"Big surprise." Don started pawing through the boxes stacked in the back of the Jeep. "You got those radios you- hey, who's this?" He looked over at Joe, holding up the sleeping puppy. "He got a name yet?"

Joe shook his head, reaching for the pup. It stirred, whimpering a little in its sleep, then snuggled up against him as he spoke. "Nah. Not that I know of, anyway. This guy just came up and handed him to me, if you can believe that."

"Huh." Don regarded the puppy, whose forepaws twitched a little in its sleep. "The locals must like you, or something."

"I dunno, Don," said Joe, looking down at the pup. "He had this weird look on his face-"

"No, I mean they must like you because there's three kids coming this way."

Placing the puppy carefully back into its impromptu bed, Joe looked in the direction Don was pointing. "Huh. Well, okay. . . you need me for anything?"

"Where'd you put the forms for these radios?"

"It's under the box, I figured it wouldn't blow away on me. . . I'm gonna go see what those kids want, okay?"

"Sure thing, Joe." Don grinned. "Got your chocolate?"

"Damn straight. God bless Hershey." Joe patted his pocket and headed around the Jeep.

The kids looked enough alike to be siblings, as far as Joe could tell. He had some trouble telling most of the locals apart, though he liked to think he was getting better at it. It was easier with the grown-ups. The kids all had the same sort of look- wide-eyed and wobbly, like they weren't sure whether the round-eye was going to play with 'em or bite 'em.

Well, Joe knew how to deal with that, at least. Nothing got parents on your side like being nice to their kids, no matter where in the world you were. << Hello there, >> he said, starting to smile and cutting it off short. Benny- he'd never been able to pronounce his father's dishwasher's name, so the man had said to call him Benny- never smiled with all his teeth.

The kids stopped, staring. Their clothes looked like they'd been worn about a hundred times- no big surprise, considering. Joe figured the biggest one, the only girl, was maybe eight or nine years old. The smallest couldn't have been more than about six.

Joe smiled again, more carefully this time. << It's all right, >> he said, crouching down to be a little closer to their height. << My name's Joe. What's yours? >>

The girl fidgeted, and the smaller of the boys surreptitiously stuck a finger in his nose as he started to rock back and forth. Fortunately, the other boy was a little bolder. << Susumu, >> he said, << and this is my sister Hiroko, and my cousin Isamu. >>

Joe nodded. He could see a few other people peeking out of windows at the scene, quietly watching. << Nice to meet you, Susumu, >> he said. << Does your mother know you're here? >>

<< No, >> said the girl suddenly. She blushed as Joe looked up at her. << We wanted to come see. >>

Joe waited, but she didn't say anything else. She looked as if she'd scared herself pretty badly by talking at all, actually. . . well, Joe knew how to handle that. He reached into his pocket. << It's all right, >> he said. << Hey, guess what? >>

American kids would've said "what", but these just stared at him. Isamu took his finger out of his nose.

Joe made a show of holding out his hand and opening it to reveal the candy bar he'd been unwrapping. << Ever had chocolate before? >> he asked, smiling.

Hiroko nodded a little. Susumu mumbled something.



<< Want some? >> Joe asked.



Well, that did it. The kids surged forward as Joe started breaking the chocolate bar apart - and then more of them, from somewhere Joe hadn't seen, arrived in time for his second. There were adults, too- looked like grandparents mostly- though they weren't after the candy. They hung around the back, keeping an eye on the American, just in case. Not like he could blame them, he figured he'd've done the same thing in their shoes. He gave the nearest granny a friendly wave and turned his attention back to the kids. << Okay, who here's ever heard of baseball? >>

There was a moment's silence before one of the boys started jumping up and down. << The Osaka Hanshin! >>

<< Tokyo Tsubasa! >> yelled another.

Then it was nothing but chatter as the boys each tried to impress the American with what Joe could only assume was their favorite teams' records. He was a little shocked- he hadn't had any idea there was baseball in Japan- but hey, why argue? He nodded at the boys, and even smiled at the elderly gentleman who leaned over and murmured quietly that he himself was in favor of the Tokyo Kyojin. He was just about to ask Hiroko if she ever listened to baseball games on the radio when something tugged at the seat of his pants.

<< Hey, kid, >> he said as he started to turn around, << watch it, that's- oh. >> It was the puppy. Looked like all the commotion had woken him up. An idea occurred to Joe, and he scooped the little beast up. << Hey! >> he called. << Who wants to help me name my puppy? >>

As he turned back with the puppy in his hands, the entire crowd - boys, girls, grownups, you name it - went absolutely silent. A few of the adults actually blanched, some taking a step or two back.

Joe stared at the suddenly quiet crowd, looking rapidly from one end to the other. << Did I say something wrong? >> he wondered aloud.

No answer was forthcoming. The puppy yipped, wriggling in Joe's grasp; he pulled it protectively back against his chest, and it licked at his chin. Still there was silence.

Eventually, the elderly Kyojin fan cleared his throat. << I beg your pardon, sir, >> he said carefully, << but . . . how did you come by that dog? >>

Joe looked down at the still-licking animal. << Someone gave him to me, >> he answered, flinching as it tried to lick his nose. << Yesterday. A man. . . >>

The old man looked at him; Joe couldn't tell whether it was expectance or suspicion. << It wasn't my idea, >> he hastily said. << I was just outside of town with my- >> He didn't know the word for 'Jeep', so he indicated the vehicle with a jerk of his head. << It was making funny noises, so I got out to check on it. This man came up to me as I was finishing. >> Carefully, he set the puppy down. It wagged its tail and ducked behind his legs again as he straightened up.

<< Please- describe him, if you would? >>

Joe nodded, thinking. << Japanese, >> he started. The man merely nodded. << Older than me. Maybe old enough to be my father. Wide shoulders. >> With both hands, he indicated a pair of shoulders that'd please any football coach. << Short hair, like mine. He walked- >> Another pause as Joe struggled for the words. << He had boots, >> he finally said. << Worn here, and here. Not like mine. Like riding boots. Walked like a soldier- I’m sorry, I don't know the words- >>

<< It is all right. Go on. >>

Wondering if the man had stolen the puppy from these people, Joe closed his eyes and concentrated. << Dark eyes, >> he said. << Really dark. Darker than yours. His nose was- >> He opened his eyes, pinching his nose just above the soft part. << Very narrow, right there. And he looked- he looked like someone shot his best friend. >>

The old man let out a sigh. << Miyamoto Tadashi, >> he said. A murmur went up from the adults in the crowd. Joe thought he felt some of the tension go out of the air. Behind him, the puppy jumped up, pawing at the back of his leg without regard for the ongoing discussion.

<< Sir? >> asked Joe cautiously. << Is this your dog? >>

The man gave a sad little smile. << No, >> he said. << No, it is not. . . Do you know anything about him? >>

Joe shook his head mutely. The puppy scampered between his feet, barking happily.

The old man looked down at the puppy. << He is an Akita dog, >> he said. << One of our national treasures. The government ordered us to shoot all our dogs long ago, to stop them spreading disease, but the Akita dog has survived. >>

Because the man seemed to expect it, and because he wanted to know, Joe asked, << Why? >>

<< They are police dogs. >> The man smiled just a little. << The best in all the world. For many, many years only the nobility could ever have them. Then came the Meiji emperor. >>

Joe racked his brain to remember anything that could possibly link an emperor to police dogs. << He created the Mounties, didn't he? >>

The old man nodded. << He did, >> he said with some satisfaction. << They already had their horses. It was his edict that gave them their dogs. >> He indicated the puppy, which was now rolling on its back and looking at the children as if expecting them to come rub its belly. << The Imperial Japanese Mounted Police and the Akita dog have been together ever since. When the order came to shoot all dogs, the Akita dogs of the Mounties were the only ones spared by law. >>

Joe stared down at the puppy for a moment, then looked up to the old man.

<< The Emperor, >> said the old man quietly, << dissolved the Mounted Police on the night before the surrender. >>

"Oh Jesus," Joe blurted in English.

If the old man understood, he didn't say. He merely nodded. << Miyamoto Tadashi was a Mountie, >> he said. << His dog Akiko was pregnant not so long ago. >>

<< He just gave me the puppy, >> Joe said, his tongue feeling slow and strange. << He came up to me and asked who I was. I told him my name and rank, and he just handed me the puppy. Just like that. I mean, he whispered something in its ear first, but I didn't hear what he said- >>

The old man watched him silently.

<< And then he just patted its head, and said, 'He will be a good dog for you.' And then he walked away. >> Joe shook his head. << I never even got his name. He wouldn't turn back, he wouldn't answer me. Nothing. >>

<< He would not have said anything, >> murmured the old man. << He would not want to stay after that. >>

<< So what should I do? >> asked Joe desperately. He could feel the eyes of the crowd on him now, or thought he could, anyway.

The old man shrugged. << Take care of the Mountie's dog. >>



Joe went back to the Jeep some time later, feeling drained. The puppy trotted along after him, occasionally jumping at his heels and missing every time. As far as the puppy was concerned, it had been a great day - new smells, belly rubs, and new people to play with. Things hadn't been quite so congenial for Joe.

Don, who was still supervising the unloading, put it more bluntly. "You look like hell, Joe. What'd they do to you?"

"Aah, it's the dog." Joe scooped the puppy up, settling him down into his bed in one smooth movement. "Long story."

"Wanna talk about it?"

"Later. When there's beer."

Don nodded. "Whatever you say, Joe."

"Just one thing, though. . ." Joe hesitated.

Don tilted his head, curious.

Joe turned, patting the puppy's head gently. "His name's Tadashi."