Prettier Than a Tokyo Sunrise

Willie had a childhood so awful, he thought war would be an escape. So, he joined the Army. He was average height but muscular and wore his uniform crisp. He maintained clear skin and white teeth from insisting on hygiene, had a cheerful voice, and the manners of a southern gentleman. He wasn’t the smartest, but he was the kindest and the hardest working. 

Willie was right about joining the military. A segregated Army was better than a segregated plantation in Waco, Texas. The Army guaranteed pay, three meals, and a bed to yourself. The plantation guaranteed his alcoholic daddy collecting the day’s pay in lieu of Willie and his five siblings, then going and drinking that pay or buying time with  women. 

Boot camp wasn’t physically worse than picking cotton. His body was sore since he used his muscles differently, but he had the mental grit to survive the new challenges. Willie made friends with the other recruits and learned to blend into the middle so as to not be noticed in any way by his superiors. This was the safest way to operate in the military as a Black soldier. Willie liked rising to the high standards of the Army and learning new skills. He had forgotten that there was a time when he liked learning. His mother came from literate slaves and made sure her children did not take their education for granted. Willie had finished school all the way through the fifth grade. 

***

The Army doctor ticked a few boxes on the clean, white medical chart with his ballpoint pen and said to Willie, “Soldier, you’re lucky the Japanese have surrendered.”

Willie sat in the bland room on the medical cot opposite the doctor. “I reckon that’s right, doctor.”

The doctor scratched a few more notes before continuing the conversation. “I’m recommending you to the 93rd Infantry Division in Yokohama in a support position on the docks. You’ll be unloading cargo.” 

Willie’s rib cage expanded with relief. Labor was work he knew he could do well, especially on three meals a day. He had never liked the idea of killing for the USA when the USA had been so hostile toward Black people. Willie didn’t blame white people in the US, they were just acting superior like they’d been raised, but he didn’t like the idea of having to kill anybody who never did him any wrong. In fact, if he had to choose between killing a Japanese person he’d never met, or some of the white people in his life, he’d choose the white woman who was employed in the plantation’s kitchen who’d short him and his siblings on their meals for no other reason than she was cruel. 

“I reckon that’s good news, doctor.”

“Some soldiers get steamed up about Japan, though it never impressed me. The paper houses are too small and I don’t lower my standards about women just because I’m overseas.” 

“I done heard the beer’s mighty fine though, doctor.”

The doctor winked at Willie. “You’re absolutely correct, soldier. Remember me and raise a glass of Sapporo when you’ve made it to the land of the rising sun.” He handed Willie his charts and instructed him to take them and see about his official orders. 

***

Willie wrote to his siblings about being shocked at how welcoming Yokohama felt in comparison to the USA after only a few weeks. His barracks were segregated and there were places in Yokohama where he wasn’t allowed, but this was due to his fellow countrymen and not the Japanese. There were many Japanese who had never seen a Black person, but they were curious not hateful. In all fairness, he felt the same way toward the Japanese. He was surprised by how short they were as a nation, but thought they were nice looking people. He had seen some women who he thought were pretty as a Georgia peach. 

There were quite a few soldiers who were dating Japanese girls and Willie figured this made sense. There weren’t many young Japanese men left due to the war and no women from the USA in Japan, so the two countries who were once enemies now found themselves in bed with each other. The USA had recently passed a new law allowing US soldiers to bring home their Japanese wives, so marriages seem to be on the rise despite the inevitable racism the Japanese women would face on US soil. 

***

Willie and his best friend Ed were down at the docks unloading bananas from ships on the first day of the work week. Ed was tall, with long legs and a strong whistle. He was a few years older than Willie but had seen real combat during the war, which made him feel wiser and more like a mentor. His posting in Yokohama was meant to give him a break. 

“You paint Yokohama red last night, Ed?”

“Sure had me a blast. You woulda had yourself some real fun too.”

“You know me, Ed. I only drink on Sunday.”

“I know, I know. So you don’t turn into your daddy. How’s the Lord feel about you drinking on his day, though?”

“You see, it starts with the Lord, Ed. I start at church with communion wine and then I just keep on with the praise.”

“Well, you don’t always have to imbibe. Come for the company next time. I met a nice Geisha gal last night. I think she might like me too.”

“Man, she’s paid to be nice to you.”

The two men stopped their banter to watch a white officer walking on the dock with his Japanese girlfriend. The officer slapped the woman on her backside, which exploded her into a fit of giggles. She looked around to see if they were alone and turned crimson when she noticed Willie and Ed. The girl gave the officer her harshest reprimand through her giggles. 

The couple continued, leaving Willie and Ed to deconstruct race relations in Japan, which they were still learning to navigate. Some of the white soldiers considered the Japanese inferior and on the same social tier as Black people. Some of the white soldiers treated Japanese girls better than Black girls. 

The midday bell rang. Willie and Ed went to collect their sack lunches. Ed stayed in the mess hall while Willie excused himself to go eat outside in the glorious Japanese sun. He liked to sit under a bench shaded by a tree with those fragrant white and pink flowers everywhere, and read his copy of Strange Fruit given to him by a white soldier who was finished with the novel. He often thought to himself that he’d be a rich man if he could bottle and sell the smell of those flowers as a perfume. 

Willie startled when a young woman approached from behind the bench and sat on the opposite side, making almost no sound. She held a book and bento box, which she settled into her lap. One hand held her novel while the other used chopsticks to feed herself lunch without dropping so much as a sesame seed. Willie wondered if she too worked in the area and was also taking advantage of the weather on her break. The young woman was shorter than the average Japanese national and slim, with hair as dark as a Black woman but straight like a white woman. Willie liked the contrast of her dark eyes set against her light skin. The young woman ignored Willie in favor of her own literature. Willie had noticed that the Japanese read opposite to the USA in that they started at the back of their books and read toward the front. The young girl stifled a giggle at something in her text. Was she being coy? Would she have released her whole laugh had Willie not been present? The two read together in silence until Willie’s lunch break ended and he found himself wishing he could say something to his companion, but he wasn't sure she spoke English and didn’t want to risk a misunderstanding. He stood glancing at the woman to see if she’d give an acknowledgement of his departure. She didn’t. Willie walked back to his ship anchored to a dock in Yokohama’s marina. 

Willie felt energized by his interaction with the gal and so he accepted when Ed asked him if he wanted to join him for dinner later that night at the nearby Sanmamen restaurant. 

Ed led Willie through Yokohama, which felt similar to his small town back at home in size. There were people about, but the streets weren’t nearly as crowded as in Tokyo. Small shops peppered the streets with the soft lighting of paper lanterns. Ed and Willie had to duck into the restaurant doorway hung with red and white paper banners. Inside, a simple bar sat only ten customers. There was one other local man sitting at the bar with his bowl of noodles in a thick shoyu sauce with toppings of crunchy vegetables and a soft boiled egg on the side and hot tea. Willie preferred these small restaurants to the big, rowdy spots. The tiny restaurants gave the intimate feel of being in someone’s home for supper.

A Japanese hostess greeted the men with low bows and the friends did their best to reciprocate. She showed them to seats at the bar and was out with their meals in less than a minute since the restaurant only served one dish. 

Ed bent his face to the bowl, took a deep breath of the steam, and grinned, saying to Willie that Japan was as close to smelling equality as they’d ever be. There was no segregation in the restaurant. White men married Japanese girls and took them back to the USA, but Black GI’s married Japanese girls and hoped to stay in Japan for as long as possible. 

Willie was a healthy young man, but marriage wasn’t on his radar. He missed his siblings and was enjoying his new freedom in the military living with a gang of men his age with common backgrounds and interests and the freedom to roam around the barracks in his shorts.

Ed and Willie finished their noodles, then lifted the bowls to their faces to drink the remainder of the broth in the Japanese manner. They paid for their soup and bowed to the waitress on their way out, stopping at the entrance to let in a local man and woman. Willie felt his heart lurch. He recognized the woman as the girl from the bench earlier that day during his lunch break. She was still carrying her book. They made eye contact, but Willie, out of habit, averted his eyes quickly. He wondered if she recognized him.

Willie touched his chest where the quickened pace of his beating heart continued. In just a glance, he had taken note of the girl’s sky blue kimono that framed her chin. Her hair was pinned in the traditional Japanese style, which gave her a look of being well-bred. Her tabi socks were a fresh white and her sash was tied and flowing from her back giving Willie hope that her older dinner companion was her daddy. 

***

Wille nearly ran outside with his lunch the next day to be on the bench feigning reading. The young woman was already there in a blueish gray kimono but her hair was free in a more US style, which was a bit windswept due to the breeze. One of those pink, fragrant flowers had become tangled in her black hair that reached her collar bone. The two made eye contact, directed their gazes elsewhere, but then came back to each other within seconds. Willie had reached the bench and waited for a sign he was welcome to sit down. The young woman smiled at him and said “hello” in heavily accented English. Willie said “hello” back in his heavily accented southern drawl. Willie asked permission to sit making a big spectacle of talking with his hands in case the girl didn’t understand. “I speak English,” the young woman said as she laughed at his performance and motioned for him to sit. 

They learned each other’s names, Willie and Mieko, and found that they shared the good humor of kids raised in the countryside making the best of a set of circumstances over which they had little control. The conversation began with Willie sharing information about his brothers and sisters back in the USA. He learned Mieko’s parents had survived the war, as had her two sisters. Her brother’s survival had brought shame to the family since he had been taken as a prisoner of war twice and should have committed seppuku, but he had been too much of a coward. Mieko gave a gentle laugh at this detail, then explained her family had accepted him back both times because they loved him. Willie didn’t understand the humor but was tickled to hear the sound of Mieko’s soft giggle. 

Mieko explained she needed to go back to teaching classes at the little school across from the docks. They both stood. “Sayonara,” said Mieko, bowing at the waist until her upper body was horizontal with the grass. “Buh bye,” said Willie, matching her bow as best as his body would allow. He needed to stretch more often. Willie was already planning to ask Ed out to dinner in the hope that he might see Mieko in public again. 

“You got it bad, Son!” Ed nearly shouted through his huge grin when Willie told him of his plan, but refused to participate, explaining that Willie shouldn’t appear so desperate. “Give her some room to breathe, Son!” Willie’s heart constricted as the next day was Saturday, so he’d have to wait until Monday at lunch for any real chance of speaking with Mieko again. 

Willie took his lunch outside on Monday and was crestfallen to see the bench empty. He pouted as he ate, planning to go for a walk in the evening in the hopes that he’d see Mieko in the streets. His lunch break was ending when he looked up and saw Mieko walking toward him with grace and a sense of authority. Willie stood to greet her and stuck out his hand as she bowed. They both giggled. Willie blurted out that he’d like to take her dinner that night with some twinge of regret at the thought that the meal would detract from the amount he could send home to his family. 

“You so nice man,” responded Mieko. Willie’s heart melted. But Mieko did not agree to see him alone. She would bring a friend and so he could invite a friend as well. She told him they would eat together at the Gyu-nabe restaurant.

Willie invited Ed, who agreed to chaperone because nothing could deter him from having a good time, but not without a warning first that taking home a Japanese war bride was hard enough for white men, so Willie had better manage his expectations. Marrying a Japanese girl would be unwise, and how much did he know about Mieko, anyhow?

Willie told Ed to slow his roll, that no one was talking about matrimony, but still Willie’s excitement could not be tempered. His heart felt like it had melted into a puddle and evaporated out his ears. The two men shaved, polished their shoes, set out in a taxicab, and reached the restaurant before the women. They were shown to a low Japanese-style table where they sat on tatami mats with a charcoal grill and not enough ventilation. Willie broke his own rule and ordered a hot sake with Ed and promised himself he’d skip drinking on Sunday. Willie stopped talking to Ed each time the paper door of the restaurant slid back until there was Mieko in the door frame with a woman behind her. Mieko was wearing a blue and gold kimono with her lips parted in a small smile. Her eyes darted around until she found Willie’s and moved toward him, dabbing a few drops of perspiration from her temples caused from the shock of coming from the night into the heat of the restaurant. This time, Willie took Mieko into a hug with both arms. She was not used to the gesture and felt a bit limp but giggled without trying to get out of the squeeze. Willie had already forgotten the warning of a tragic love story. 

The four sat down on the tatami mats where Mieko introduced her friend and colleague, Kayoko. They both were teachers at the local school, Mieko’s specialty being the US equivalent of home economics, but both women taught all subjects now because of the war. Kayoko was quick with a smile that showed she had a gold tooth, which probably meant her family was also managing fine. She wore horn frame glasses that made her look intelligent. Her kimono looked the same as the one Mieko wore during the day, so maybe it was a work uniform and she had just come from school. 

The group laughed and chatted while the women showed the men how to cook their meats and vegetables in the hot pot. The women also took great pleasure in pointing out that the men’s chopsticks skills were comparable to that of a toddler. Both Willie and Ed were good natured and loved a ribbing that came with good banter. Willie took note that Mieko did not strike him as the submissive type for which Asian women had a reputation.

After dinner and a shared bottle of sake, Mieko said, “We take walk now.” The four stepped into the night, keeping to the dark alleyways. The backs of Mieko and Willie’s hands kept bumping until Willie slipped his little finger through Mieko’s little finger. She didn’t protest so he slowly took finger after finger until he was holding her whole hand. Willie decided he would be open to a relationship with Mieko and resolved to ignore outside forces that might interfere with their feelings for each other. 

The following Sunday after a week of flirting over lunch, Mieko met Willie alone for a day at the beach. She led him to the train station that took them further down the coast into a more rural area. They bowed to other couples along the beach, giggled at the children, and listened to the waves. Mieko wore a light, cream colored kimono that matched the underbelly of the Singing Japanese Tit. Willie sensed she was trying to find a place away from the crowds to set down the bento boxes she had prepared for them. He wondered what she had told her family about how she was spending her day. Poor Japanese families might marry off their daughters to alleviate some of the pressure of providing for a household post war, but Mieko’s family had managed to not fall into poverty. A family with her social status wouldn’t pick a US soldier as the first choice of suitor for their daughter, and Blackness could certainly complicate the situation. 

Willie and Mieko rounded a corner on the beach where no one else had ventured. They set down a mat in the sand and sat down side by side, leaning back onto their elbows. Willie sensed that Mieko wanted him to kiss her and so followed his instincts. At that moment they knew their love would matter more than their cultures, nationalities, and skin color combined. Both were too shy to take further advantage of their privacy, and Willie wouldn’t know how to undo a kimono regardless. 

They returned to Yokohama with Willie walking Mieko as far as the road to her house she shared with her family. They bowed to each other and once Mieko was out of sight, Willie turned and went back to his Army barracks. 

Ed stopped by Willie’s room on the way to the showers. 

“Don’t be coy, son. You’re thinkin’ ‘bout a future with Mieko, ain’t you?”

Without pause Willie responded. “Man, let me tell ya. The beach today was somethin’ else. We had one fine day. Ended up kissin’ her, too. I’m ain’t foolin’ around, Ed. I’m dead serious about the gal.”

“For the love of God, man. Don’t get involved.”

“Too late, I reckon.”

“The military done made laws allowin' GIs to bring home folks from different lands, but they ain't gonna make it smooth sailin' for y'all. Why get tangled up with a Japanese girl when you could find a good woman back home? You best find a way to take your mind off Mieko 'cause I can see in your eyes you're thinkin' 'bout settlin' down.”

Willie didn’t respond.

“Son, you’re making things tough on yourself.”

Willie and Mieko were back at the beach the next weekend after continuing their routine of having their lunches together under the cherry blossoms. They fantasized about life as they lay on the mat under the shade of palm trees. Willie wanted to stay in Japan, the land of politeness that had been extended to him. He would build a little house for them next to her family. They would have babies. What would these babies look like? Would they have Japanese eyes? What would be their complexion? The reality of the future was not nearly as fun to discuss. Willie could never become a Japanese citizen, so the couple would have to return to the United States eventually where Mieko would be forced to understand the full weight of racism. Willie tried to explain that their children would have no choice but to attend a segregated school in Texas. Mieko scoffed, saying she wouldn’t allow her children to be treated any differently and that she would not be taking a western name and that he could forget about her ever converting to Christianity. White American GI’s seemed to love Japanese women for their reputation of being deferential, but Willie loved Mieko for her strong personality. She knew her own mind and would not be bullied by anyone. Willie propped himself up on an elbow from laying on his back, forcing Mieko up as well who had been laying with her head on his chest. “Miss Mieko. I reckon I love you and I’d like to get to know your father.”

“Why you want to meet my father? Why not my whole family?”

“I would love nothing more than to meet your entire family but I believe in the American tradition of seeking a blessing from a gal’s father to pursue a relationship.”

“That is verry siri.”

“What’s that now?”

“Verry siri.”

“Come again?”

“SIRI.”

“You tryin’ to say, ‘silly,’ darlin’?”

Mieko gave him a half-hearted punch in the chest. The accent barrier always managed to stir a laugh and bring levity to serious conversations. 

Willie continued, “I want to meet your entire family so they know my intentions are pure and I’m committed to honoring and cherishing you.”

Mieko fed Willie a slice of plum. “I tell my family about you and they accept you, but they no see a future for us. I no worry about their concerns. You come for tea.”

Willie went to Mieko’s family house for tea the next Sunday, ready to buy their love with Japanese whiskey and armfuls of goodies from the PX. The couple had discovered that both Black culture and Japanese culture showed their love in food, so he brought chicken that he seasoned Texas style, which he would also offer to grill over their hibachi, and fruits. Mieko’s family was wealthy and well educated before the war, so they all spoke English. 

The family served tea and made polite conversation that Willie found to be a bit formal. The women disappeared to cook the chicken after tea, leaving Willie alone with Mieko’s father, brother, and the bottle of whiskey. Willie understood where Mieko got most of her personality as her father did not mince words. 

“I no want you take Mieko away from her family and Japan.” 

“My family means everything to me and I love Japan too. I don’t want to leave. We will stay as long as possible, but I love your daughter with all muh heart and soul. Imagine the two of us being in love. Issa miracle, suh.”

“Her feelings are same. I tell my daughter her marriage to you will be tragic but she no listen to me. You must listen me. You must stop seeing my Mieko. You are kind, generous man, but you and Mieko take too big risk.”

Mieko’s father lifted his whiskey glass to end the conversation. 

Her brother did the same and said “kanpai.”

“Kanpai,” said Willie and shot the remainder of the whiskey in his glass. 

The women returned to serve the chicken. Willie decided against lingering with the family and excused himself after a polite amount of time had passed once they had finished with the meal. He struggled slightly to get up off the floor after sitting Japanese style for so long and walked backwards out the front door, bowing the whole way.

***

Mieko was at their bench on Monday when he arrived.  

Willie was relieved but also felt the gravity of his resolve to continue the relationship. She greeted him by putting her palm to his cheek.

“My father does not want me to be like other Japanese girls who do not make their own fate. I make my own decisions, and you are my decision. He will understand. He likes your chicken.”

This was the feminine, firm woman that he loved. He told her he wanted to get married so no one could keep them apart. She agreed without hesitation. Even though asking a gal’s father for her hand in marriage is a distinctly US tradition, Willie didn’t feel quite right marrying Mieko without her father’s blessing. The paperwork would take a long time, so he’d work on convincing her family while they waited.

Willie decided to visit the American Consulate as soon as possible. A southern lawyer with a confederate pin on his lapel sat behind an office desk that looked like it had survived the war as well. The red-faced lawyer’s weight combined with his constant temper put him on the brink of a heart attack at any moment.

“Whaddya need, boy?”

Willie paused. “Sir, I’d like to see about a marriage certificate.”

“You better not be in here about marrying a Japanese nigger. You wait and marry an American one when you’re back home.”

“Sir. I’d like to marry a Japanese woman, sir.”

“I won’t do anything for you until you talk with your superiors so they can talk some sense into you, boy. Get out, you god damned Buddha-head.” 

Willie’s fists clenched at his sides as he turned around and left the building determined to bring up his future children under the Japanese flag. 

***

Ed was in the barracks when Willie returned. “You know what they gonna put Miss Mieko through? There’ll be a full investigation to make sure she ain’t no prostitute or a spy. And they’ll make sure she’s introduced to Jim Crow so she knows what she’s gittin into before she makes ‘Merica her new country.”

Willie paused before saying, “Consulate said I gotta speak with Corporal Smith and get permission.”

“I’m glad,” Ed said. “He’s a good man who’ll talk sense into you.”

“Don’t think so but I’m off to find him anyways.”

Willie found Corporal Smith shuffling a deck of cards and asked him if he could play as he had something on his mind. Corporal Smith listened as Willie explained his situation and shuffled at the same time.

“This girl trap you, son?” was his first question.

“Negative, suh.”

“Listen, right now you’re excited about the sex but that will become familiar and the flames reduced to embers. For a marriage, you need your own kind of woman who understands. What will Madame Butterfly do when she’s alone in the United States cause you’ve been stationed somewhere else? You’ll probably get called to Korea at some point. What’s gonna happen to that poor girl if you don’t survive? Uncle Sam sure as hell won’t take care of her. Hell, Uncle Sam barely takes care of Americans that’s the same color as him. What do you and this girl talk about?”

“We both like to read. And we’re teaching each other about...”

Corporal Smith interrupted. “Suppose you do marry the girl. The Black women will be kind enough to her, but will she be happy with no one around who really understands her or speaks her language? What about your kids? Will they fit in at a Black school? Do you want to see if I can get you reassigned to someplace else? You want to go to Korea now?”

“No, suh. I want to stay in Japan. Please, suh. I’m prepared to stand by her through thick and thin.”

“Don’t get confused. You’re crazy for sex. Hell, we might be fighting the Japanese again in a decade. What if the internment camps open again and she and your kids have to go?”

Willie said nothing. 

“Talk it over with your girl again. I don’t know what kind of woman goes willingly into prejudice in the United States.”

“Suh, please, start the paperwork for me? No harm done if we change our minds.”

“Alright, son. I’ll see to it in the morning. Now, go ahead and deal the cards.”

***

Willie returned to the US consulate the following weekend to begin his part of the marriage process. He picked up a flier in the lobby titled, “Will Your Family Accept Your Jap Wife?” which he tossed into the bin without reading. The paperwork for a spousal visa was repetitive and degrading, but Willie was accustomed to work that was repetitive and degrading. He was a man who had been conditioned to take flack and complete tasks for the sole reason of fulfilling someone else’s sadist desires. In the meantime, Willie wrote to his family to inform them of his intentions, and began spending Sundays with Mieko’s family to try and convince her father to give Willie his blessing.  

***

The investigation into Mieko came back with a good recommendation a few months later. She was indeed a schoolteacher from an upper class family. The couple was free to proceed with their union. 

Willie gave Mieko the news on their bench over lunch. He had yet to secure her father’s blessing, though Mieko continued to insist that was a silly tradition in the USA and that she would marry Willie. Her father would bless them with time when he saw their determination, love, and life together. He wasn’t like most Japanese fathers who would erase Mieko’s name from the family records. Her father had his reservations not about Willie, but about The United States. The couple decided they would marry at the US consulate that weekend.

Willie approached Ed in the barracks that night. “Ed, you’re muh best friend here and I hope we stay friends when we leave Japan. I was wonderin’ if you’d be muh best man on Saturday. Mieko and me is gettin married.”

Ed clapped him on the back and said he’d be honored. Then he pulled out a bottle of Sunstory and hollered for the other boys to come celebrate. 

***

Willie and Ed woke up early on Saturday morning, ironed their dress uniforms and polished their shoes. They walked down to the unimpressive building that was the US consulate and met Mieko and Kayoko. The girls giggled and bowed which the men returned. Mieko looked stunning in her gray kimono flecked with gold. She was wearing a dainty, gold bracelet from her father that he had made by melting down broken eyeglasses so Mieko could still have a birthday gift one year in the middle of the war. Gold perfectly complimented her black eyes and hair while picking up the undertones in her skin. She looked prettier than a Tokyo sunrise. Two other couples came to be married as well, lengthening Willie and Mieko’s wait time since the other grooms were white. 

After an hour of light conversation while waiting for their turn, the small wedding party was ushered to a back room with a small table, a Bible, and a framed picture of President Truman on the wall. There was a short ceremony with the signing of documents. Willie and Mieko beamed at each other while Ed and Kayoko smiled at them. 

Willie took Mieko into his arms to which she had learned to reciprocate and welcomed the embrace. The couple was legally prepared to fight for their love against unapproving families, world wars, and that special brand of US bigotry.  There were so many unknowns in their relationship regarding the future, but the couple didn’t give two hoots. They didn’t have any place to call home together, but ever the gentleman, Willie swept up Mieko into a cradle, ready to carry her across the threshold of the consulate as a symbolic gesture and to get a giggle out of his bride. Mieko beamed and kissed her new husband before the chaplain could finish saying, “You may kiss the bride.”