Learning Japanese
Gymnasiums have this particular smell - something between ambition and old carpet, the kind of scent that hits you the moment you walk in. I stepped back into mine last night for the first time in years and got instantly transported back to being seventeen, sitting in classrooms I hated, surrounded by people who cared way too much about grades. I couldn’t wait to leave. This time I was there by choice, for a specific reason: learn Japanese. Mostly so I could watch anime without the English dubbing stepping in and ruining everything, and also so that down the line I could understand what was actually happening in my favorite shows.
Our class was a strange mix - maybe fifteen of us. High school girls curious about anime, a couple of police officers who looked genuinely lost, some guy named Abdullah who never explained why he was there, and me. I’d expected a typical instructor, someone who’d moved here from Tokyo and picked up the teaching gig for extra money. Instead we got Daisuke Hasegawa - a Japanese rock musician, unhinged and constantly laughing at his own jokes. You couldn’t help but like him immediately.
We spent the evening writing our names in katakana - the most basic, childish version of learning Japanese possible - and playing dumb games to practice introducing ourselves. By the end of the night I could say my name without completely botching the pronunciation, which on a Wednesday in a gymnasium felt like a genuine accomplishment. The rest of the class seemed competent. I seemed like I’d need a while.
Here’s the crude truth: I’m learning Japanese because I find Japanese women beautiful, and animated Japanese women especially. Which is stupid and horny and not the kind of thing you usually say out loud, but that’s the honest answer. The cultural interest is real - I care about the design, the art, the storytelling. But the sexual interest is just as real, maybe more so. I figure Daisuke knows this about everyone in that room. He probably teaches this class specifically because he understands that most of his students are here because of that exact mix.
I left that night with a stack of katakana notes and Daisuke’s energy still bouncing around my head. Next class in a week. I’ll probably be better by then.