They both looked up when a young man dressed like an office worker stopped in front of the shop. Chiyaki gestured to the empty stool in the corner of the shop, and Mozasu sat down and busied himself with the newspaper.
“May I help you, sir?” Chiyaki asked the man. He had been by earlier when her grandparents were there, but had returned. “Did you want to see those black socks again?”
“You remember me?” the man said excitedly.
“Sure. You were here this morning.”
“A pretty girl like you remembered me. I like that. I’m glad I came back for you.”
Mozasu looked up from the paper, then looked down again.
“How many would you like?”
“How many do you have?”
“At least twenty pairs your size,” she said. Sometimes a person would buy ten pairs. Once, a mother bought two boxes for her son who was at university.
“I’ll take two, but I’ll take more if you put them on me.”
Mozasu folded the paper and glanced at the man, who didn’t seem to notice his irritation.
“I’ll wrap up these two, then,” Chiyaki said.
“What’s your name?” he asked.
“Chiyaki.”
“I have a cousin with that name. Gosh, you are very beautiful. You got a boyfriend?”
Chiyaki got quiet.
“No? I think you should be my girlfriend then.” The man put money in her hand and held it.
Chiyaki smiled at him. She had dealt with this sort of fellow before, and she knew what he was implying. She pretended not to understand. Mozasu was jealous, but she didn’t mind. She stuck out her chest a little. In the bathhouse, the older women always stared at her high, round breasts and told her she was lucky.
The man stared exactly where Chiyaki wanted him to and said, “Nice. When can I pick you up tonight? I’ll buy you some yakitori.”
“You can’t,” she said, putting the money away in the cashbox. “You’re too old for me.”
“You little tease.”
“You’re not my type,” Chiyaki said, unafraid.
“You’re too young to have a type. I make good money, and I know how to fuck.” The man pulled her to him and put his hands on her behind and squeezed her. “Nice and full back there. Good tits, too. Close the shop. Let’s go.”
Mozasu got up from his chair quietly and walked over to the man. He hit him square in the mouth as hard as he could. The man fell over and blood poured down his lip. From the pain in his knuckles, Mozasu knew that he had loosened some of the man’s teeth.
“You should take the socks and go home now,” he said.
The man stared at the blood on his blue shirt and trousers as if the blood belonged to someone else.
“I’m calling the police,” he said.
“Go ahead, call the police,” Chiyaki said to the man. She waved frantically to the sandal lady, who was now rushing over.
“Mo-san, go now,” she said. “Hurry, get out. Go. I’ll deal with this.”
Mozasu walked briskly toward the confection stand.
The police found him in no time. Only a few minutes before, Mozasu had come back to the stall with blood on his hand and told his mother and grandmother what had happened with Chiyaki.
The police officer confirmed the story.
“Your son hit a gentleman who was buying some socks. This sort of behavior warrants an explanation. The young lady said that that man was trying to molest her and your son was protecting her, but the customer denies it,” the officer said.
Goro-san, the pachinko parlor owner, who was heading to the stand for his afternoon snack, rushed toward them when he saw the policeman.
“Hello, officer.” He winked at Sunja. “Is everything okay?” Goro asked.
Mozasu sat on the old wooden stool by the cart, looking guilty for troubling his mother and grandmother.
“Mozasu was defending a young lady who works at the sock store from a man who grabbed her. Mozasu hit him in the face,” Sunja said calmly. She kept her head high and refused to apologize for fear of admitting guilt on his behalf. Her heart was pounding so hard that she thought they could hear it. “He was only trying to help.”
Yangjin nodded firmly and patted Mozasu’s back.
“Maji?” Goro said, laughing. “Is that right, officer?”