“What do you think,” Connor Owens asked Jake Dodge for the third time since they had gotten to work on a sunny, bright Friday morning, the last workday on their two-week trip to the Hiraki plant outside Tokyo, “you think Kimiko likes me? Think she’d go out with me?”

Jake sighed, started to remove himself from his position nearly inside the giant color printer the young men were working on, then went back to taking out three Phillips screws on a slender metal strip near the transfer station of the printer. Using a clean cloth, he wiped down the metal strip and laid it on a work table by the printer next to several other parts he had removed.

“Dude,” he finally responded to Connor’s insistent queries, “how the heck should I know. I’m married, remember? Kimiko’s your deal, man.”

“Yeah, but, Dodge,” Connor said, looking around to make sure that neither Kimiko, their translator and the object of his desire, nor any of their Japanese host co-workers could hear, “she’s so fine. She’s dynamite, man. Even if you’re married you can see that. You think she digs me?”

“Listen to me,” Jake said, shaking his head, “Kimiko is super sweet and, yes, she’s very pretty. I’m not blind. But, you’re not hearing me; I’m not interested in what she thinks of me or you. That’s your department. All I want to do is get back home to see Marcy and the kids.”

“Oh, man,” Connor said, seeing Kimiko walking towards them from across the huge lab floor, “here she comes. Oh, jeez, look at her. She is so pretty.”

“Good grief,” Jake groaned. “Get a grip.”

Kimiko, as Connor had said, was pretty. She wore her shiny, dark black hair long to her shoulders where it accentuated her high cheekbones, almond-shaped brown eyes, and full, pleasant mouth. She was a little taller than the average Japanese woman with a fine, athletic build. There was no doubt that Kimiko was pretty, but she was also fun loving and sweet. Better reasons yet for Connor to like her.

“Good morning, Connor-san,” Kimiko said, coming up to the muscular young engineers, “and Jake-san.”.

Both Connor and Jake were weightlifters and body builders, energetic, fresh-faced and friendly. They were such a sight to their Japanese co-workers, what with their bulging muscles and American go-getter attitudes, that the Hiraki engineers assigned to work with the pair thought they were perhaps part of some American genetic experiment. Physically, Jake and Connor blended with the Japanese about as well as Clydesdales would at a quarterhorse show.

The three main men assigned to work with Connor and Jake – Watanabe-san, a squat, officious by-the-book man; Tanaka-san, a young, rail-thin new-hire; and Matsui-san, an older and highly deferential, even by Japanese standards, Hiraki lifer – were all in complete awe of the young Americans.

They frequently asked odd-sounding, at least to Jake and Connor, questions about whether the two strong men could hold a man down forever or whether they could lift cars and such. Jake and Connor liked their hosts and answered the questions as best they could, always aware that the Japanese seemed to think they were perhaps American enforcers rather than machine engineers.

During this, their last week in Japan, Jake and Connor had been invited out every night by their hosts for beer, hot saki, plenty of raw seafood and lots of good conversation. Jake was amused to find that the Japanese men were calling home each night to tell their patient wives that they were “working” late. This was Jakes’ third trip to Japan for MCC their stateside employer, to Connor’s first, but they both had very favorable impressions of their hosts.

“Good morning, Kimiko-san,” Jake said, pulling his head out of the printer for a moment.

“Hey, Kimi,” Connor said, far too familiarly for Jake’s taste, “how you doin’?”

More experienced than Connor, Jake was also more attuned to the expectation of formality that was totally ingrained in Japanese culture. He cringed at Connor’s breach of the local mores.

“I’m fine, Connor-san,” Kimiko said pleasantly, ignoring that same breach. “How is your work coming along?”

“We’re doin’ great,” Connor said.

“How about you, Jake-san?” Kimiko asked Dodge.

“We’re getting there,” Jake told her, removing a plastic piece from inside the machine.

To himself he knew they would have to hustle to get their work done by early afternoon when they planned to load up and go into Tokyo for a last night of fun.

“We should have the conversion done in a few hours. We’ll be finished by this afternoon I’m sure.”

“Have you seen Matsui-san and the others yet this morning?” Kimiko asked in her school-trained English.

“Ha,” Connor laughed.

Jake gave his buddy a quick look. He didn’t think it was a good idea to let Kimiko in on the series of evenings out. She had been to one of the get togethers but did not know they had become nightly occurrences.

“I think they are over in another lab,” Jake speculated, for the benefit of his Japanese co-workers.

In fact, he hadn’t seen them yet this morning. He couldn’t imagine they would have been late to work; however, that was simply not allowable in the Japanese workplace.

“I’m sure they’ll be around any time now.”

“Are we still on for this evening, Kimi?” Connor asked, smiling at the pretty translator.

Kimiko found the American men amusing and entertaining; she especially liked the opportunity to practice her English with them. If she were going to progress in the mostly male world of Hiraki Machines, Ltd., she would need every advantage she could get. Being proficient in English, given Hiraki’s many contracts with American companies, was one of those advantages.

“We are still on, Connor-san,” Kimiko said.

Connor pointed an index finger at her and smiled. Kimiko blushed and almost laughed. At the printer, Jake shook his head again. When it came to pretty women, Connor was completely incorrigible.

*                  *                   *

Jake and Connor, working steadily – they only had a power bar and an orange juice each for lunch – completed the printer conversion just before four-thirty in the afternoon, just about when they had hoped to. All that stood between them and a night in the bright lights of Tokyo now was wrapping up the job and saying goodbye to their trio of host engineers.

The three Hiraki men had shown up at the lab mid-morning and seemed none the worse for the previous evening’s outing. They stood nearby as the young Americans completed the printer conversion, taking notes and making polite comments and suggestions. Connor and Jake teased their hosts about their tardiness in arriving at the lab but Matsui-san informed them in his typically serious manner that they had had to attend a meeting with their manager and had arrived at work punctually as always.

“Sure you did,” Connor joked. “You guys were hiding out in some other lab with hangovers.”

“No, no, Connor-san,” Matsui-san said, shaking his head. “We would never do such a thing. No, no.”

“Of course not,” Jake said, smiling. “Not Hiraki men.”

“Of course, you right, Jake-san,” young Tanaka-san chipped in. “Not good here at Hiraki to be late.”

When Jake and Connor had cleaned up the work area and collected all their tools and belongings it was time to say goodbye. Bowing deeply over and over, the five men said a formal farewell and shook hands somberly.

“It was great working with you fellows again,” Jake said.

“You bet,” Connor seconded.

“It is Hiraki’s pleasure to have worked with the fine Americans,” Matsui-san said for his co-workers. “We would be pleased you return again.”

“Thank you,” Jake said and they all bowed deeply again.

Kimiko reappeared then to spirit the Americans off and with quick waves to the Japanese men, Jake and Connor headed out of the plant with their lovely young guide leading the way.

*                  *                   *

By the time Jake and Connor had gone back to their hotel, packed their bags for the following day’s flight, and hawked down a cab to take them to the local train station, it was going on six-thirty. It was starting to get dark and the lovely bright day had given way to what was promising to be a cool, rainy evening. Kimiko, wearing a smart, black leather jacket, was already on the platform when the young men arrived.

“Lookin’ great, Kimiko,” Connor said as soon as they found the translator in the crowd of humanity at the edge of the platform steps. Jake rolled his eyes at Connor.

“Hello, friends,” Kimiko smiled. “Are we ready to see Tokyo nightlife?”

“You bet,” Connor enthused, edging up next to Kimiko, who blushed and looked down at her feet.

“This’ll be fun,” Jake added. “It’s good to get that conversion done.”

“I think you miss your family, Jake-san,” Kimiko said.

“I do,” Jake said.

“I can’t wait to get to Tokyo,” Connor tossed in. “Are you ready for some fun, Kimiko? We’re gonna have a blast.”

“Easy, tiger,” Jake laughed. Kimiko giggled and averted her eyes from Connor’s rapt admiration.

“Let’s move up closer to the edge of the floor here,” Kimiko suggested. “We catch our train better that way.”

“Alright,” Jake said.

By weaving through the crowd, the threesome made their way to the edge of the platform and settled in to wait for their train. While Jake daydreamed about home and family, Connor kept up an easy banter with Kimiko. Their laughter and chatter barely registered in Jake’s ears. He was imagining going to a park back home with his wife and kids when he first noticed the commotion.

Across the set of tracks in front of them, on the platform directly across the way, something was happening. Suddenly, a man seemed to trip, over what Jake couldn’t see, and then fall, right off the platform onto the ground beside the tracks.

“Dodge,” Connor yelled, “look. Over there.”

“Oh, my goodness,” Kimiko exclaimed.

“Man,” Jake said, “that guy fell on the tracks.”

The man didn’t appear to be hurt but when he staggered back up to his feet, Jack could see that he was too short to reach up and pull himself back onto the platform. Some people in the crowd were bent over trying to help but to no avail. Absorbing the scene and its potential for disaster, Jake acted on impulse.

Without a word to Connor or Kimiko, he ripped off his jacket, letting it fall to the concrete platform surface, and leapt down onto the tracks. Before he even realized what he was doing, he was heading across the tracks toward the man who was still trying to get back on the platform.

In a flash Jake cleared one set of tracks, then another – he was moving fast but there seemed to be no end to the tracks – when the idea of what he was doing began to dawn on him. In the center of the station were the tracks for the fast trains, the ones that didn’t stop at the station. Those trains went at nearly bullet train speed. And then Dodge realized he had no idea if the tracks were hot or not. My God, the thought rushed through his mind, I could electrocute myself or become track kill for the blazing engines of a trans-city train.

“Oh, crap,” he cursed to himself.

He could not hear Connor and Kimiko’s cries behind him or those of the people on the platforms on either side of the tracks.

With adrenalin pumping through his powerful body, Jake stormed across the center tracks faster than he had run since he was a cross-country man at Florida State. Like a streak he shot over the remaining tracks and reached the other side of the station in a heartbeat.

The Japanese man was still struggling to get his balance and was vainly reaching up to the platform from which he had fallen. Jake rushed to the man and in one powerful, sweeping motion grabbed him and tossed him up, over, and onto the platform above.

The shocked man emitted a small cry and Jake was amazed at how light he was. It was like tossing a child’s rag doll and the man rolled across the concrete floor while Jake grabbed onto the platform and quickly pulled himself to safety. When he landed on the platform, Jake was suddenly and completely cognizant of what he had just done.

My God, he thought, I could’ve been killed. I’ve freaked out everybody in the entire station. I’m on the wrong side of the tracks. I’m going to miss my train. With a cry of his own, Jake bolted across the platform, the Japanese clearing a path before him as if he were the incarnation of the force that had parted the Red Sea.

As he roared past the stunned Japanese workers, Jake briefly made eye contact with a taller, dignified local who frowned at the fleeing gaijin man. Jake formulated an apology in his mind but raced on, breathlessly, down the stairs to the tunnel heading back to his own platform.

As he sprinted on, Jake concentrated on getting back to where he had started, but fear – delayed fear of the potentially lethal dash he’d just made across the tracks and the very real fear of having created a huge scene in staid, un-scene-creating Japan – coursed through him. His knees wobbled a bit as he churned up the steps to where Connor and Kimiko awaited him, both of them still frozen in place as they had been when Jake made his great leap of abandon.

While Connor and Kimiko stared at him wide-eyed and slack-jawed, Jake began to regain his composure. He calmly picked up his jacket from where he had tossed it down and, brushing it off carefully, casually put it back on. Smoothing the jacket and his pants – he ran a hand through his short hair in an unnecessary act of grooming – Jake turned to Connor and Kimiko.

“What?” he said.

“Dude,” Connor finally exclaimed, “what the hell was that?”

“Oh, Jake-san,” Kimiko said, shuffling about nervously. Everyone on both platforms was still looking at the three of them.

“Man,” Connor continued, “you just jumped on the tracks and ran over and threw that guy back on that platform.”

“Jake-san,” Kimiko said, “I think we need to go soon.”

“Uh, sure,” Dodge concurred, but he didn’t see how they could go any sooner than when the train actually got there.

“Oh, dear,” Kimiko said, “I think the trains are all stopping.”

“Uh, oh,” Connor groaned.

Jake concentrated on his surroundings. Something big was missing. It was sound. Sound was missing. There was no sound in the busy station. The trains had stopped.

“Whoa,” he said.

“What were you thinking?” Connor asked incredulously, wildly, stepping up close to Jake. “You could’ve got killed with that freako hero shit. Were you trying to impress Kimiko or something? What were you doing? You’re unbelievable, dude. You’re a hero. You’re a mad freak. This is too nuts. Oh, crap, what do you think, does Kimiko still dig me, man, or is she gonna go for you now? Now with that hero act and all. Man, you are one King Freak. Beer’s on me, dude. What about Kimiko? Oh, crap.”

Jake started to formulate a response to Connor’s crazed colloquy, but Kimiko broke in.

“Something’s happening over there, Jake-san,” she said, her nervousness now certainly fear.

“Uh, oh,” Connor groaned again.

Jake looked across the tracks to the other platform.  Something was definitely happening there. There was a lot of loud talking with an equal portion of undirected commotion. Uniformed Japanese police moved through the crowd, gesturing.

The police wore dark uniforms, standard police hats, and very white gloves. To Jake they looked for all the world like the Gestapo or a uniformed version of the mob. Their presence caused another idea to occur to him.

“I’m going to prison,” he said quietly to himself. “I’m going to rot in a Japanese prison forever.”

“Look,” Kimiko said, pointing across the way.

Jake and Connor looked over to see the taller, dignified man, who had frowned at Jake during the latter’s mad scamper moments before, pointing towards them. And then, in a moment of preternatural quiet in a place normally so extraordinarily loud, everyone heard the man call out in English so perfect he could have passed for an American himself: “That’s him.”

“That’s the one,” he went on, pointing at Jake, “that American over there.”

“Thanks a lot,” Jake wanted to call out, but held his tongue.

“Oh, hell,” Connor did say. “Now we’ve had it.”

“Relax, dude,” Jake told Connor but meaning it far more for himself.

“Jake-san,” Kimiko said, “those are the police. They are coming over here.”

“I’m hip,” Jake said, as the police disappeared down the same steps he had hurried down himself just moments – or perhaps an eternity – ago.

In definitely just seconds, the police were all around them then, chattering and gesticulating. Kimiko tried to interpret as fast as she could but in her own terror was only catching words and phrases. Jake and Connor couldn’t tell what was happening.

Suddenly a hard-faced officer, apparently the highest ranking one of the group, stepped forward and waved his hand for silence. The chattering stopped. Everyone stood in place. Jake thought again of Japanese prisons and dungeons and the family he would never see again.

The man in command, Jake guessed he was maybe a sergeant or a lieutenant from the markings on his uniform and hat, barked something out in Japanese to Jake. Kimiko answered for him, bowing low in deference to the man’s rank and authority. The man dismissed Kimiko with another imperious wave of his hand and spoke again directly to Jake – in heavily-accented English.

“You,” the man said forcefully, “come with us.”

The other officers herded Jake and Connor, with Kimiko in tow, down the platform steps and into a small building at the bottom of the stairs. Inside, sitting on a wooden chair was the little man Jake had rescued. The man did not look up. The police pointed at another chair beside the man and Jake took it. He knew this was hardly the time to be too sensitive about his right not to be pushed around.

The police began shouting again, but only at the Japanese man, clearly berating him. The man, never looking up, answered quietly, bowing frequently

“What are they doing?” Jake whispered to Kimiko. “Why ….”

“Please to be quiet, Jake-san,” Kimiko said, the head officer glancing over at them.

“Am I going to jail?” Jake asked.

“Sshh,” Kimiko warned him, putting a finger to her lips.

The grilling of the little man continued. The police pointed repeatedly at a big board to one side of the little room that had an uncountable number of red lights, the train schedule Jake guessed. The little man kept speaking softly and bowing. He never looked up. Finally, when it seemed the police had had their fill of yelling at the man, the lead officer spoke to Kimiko who translated for Jake.

“Jake-san,” she said slowly and precisely, “the man you threw onto platform says he is grateful for your attention to his health. He is in your debt for your actions and will repay them.”

Still not lifting his head, the man handed a brochure to Jake. Kimiko explained that the man owned a number of taxis in Tokyo and that he, Jake, could have all the free rides he ever wanted by calling the number listed at the bottom of the brochure.

“Oh,” Jake said, not sure what to make of this development, “that’s nice. Thank you very much.”

He tried to speak directly to the man, but the man would not look up and even turned slightly away from Jake. The lead police officer spoke again, his voice as authoritarian as ever.

“What did he say that time, Kimiko-san?” Jake asked, almost not wanting to know.

“He said you should use this man’s taxicabs, Jake-san,” Kimiko answered.

“Oh,” Jake began, “but we are….”

“Please,” the police official cut Jake off, speaking for the second time in English, “hear me.”

“Uh, yes, sir,” Jake said. He gritted his teeth in anticipation.

“Japan’s citizens,” the officer said with a precise bow, “are happy of the actions of a foreigner in stopping our citizen from maybe harm. But in future,” and he paused to make his final point clear, “please be staying off the tracks of Japan.”

Jake looked at Kimiko to see if he had understood correctly.

“We’re free to go?” he asked hopefully.

“We can go,” Kimiko confirmed.

“We’re outta here,” Connor said, the first words he’d uttered since they had been hustled into the little building. Jake stood and bowed low to the little man he’d rescued and to the police.

“I am ….” he started to say.

Kimiko grabbed his arm and Connor’s and drug the two men towards the door of the little building and the cool evening air awaiting them outside.

“We go now,” she said. “Right now.”

*                  *                   *

The train station episode cast a shadow over Jake and Connor’s plans for their last evening in Japan. They went on into Tokyo with Kimiko and hit a few nightspots but no one seemed up for the excursion anymore.

To Connor’s dismay, Kimiko left early, citing weekend plan considerations, and he spent the rest of the evening trying to chat up Japanese girls. When none of them could match Kimiko, he finally just gave up the effort.

The flight home the next day was uneventful. Jake suffered from a rare hangover and Connor mostly read magazines and daydreamed about women he had won and lost. Back at work, the young engineers found that their department had been realigned and that they were assigned to a new printer, one that would restrict their travel to stateside locales.

Occasionally at department meetings, someone who had heard of Jake’s fateful leap would dredge it back up for a joke and ask whether he might “please be staying off the tracks of Japan.” That usually got a good laugh from the crowd and after awhile the story became semi-legendary and a part of the department’s oral history.

As for Connor and Jake, however, they had mixed feelings about the whole experience. It had been funny alright, but a little on the surreal side, too. The unsure moments with the police were more frightening than comic. It did make a darned good yarn around the water cooler or over a brew pub beer, though. In the end, neither of them ever went back to Japan, their travel was limited to stateside assignments. In the long run, for all the parties concerned, that was probably just as well.