Ninjas Wanted

“Look,” says Ishizuka and points to a poster by the side of the stage, in between photographs showing the ninjas wearing various pieces of ninja merchandise and posing with weapons. “They’re looking for ninjas!”

Indeed, the poster says “We are recruiting healthy men and women up to 25 years of age. If interested, ask a ninja.” What a bizarre idea. And what a great one.

For a laugh, I walk onto the stage, where Tomonosuke, the umbrella man is tidying away bits of cut bamboo and straw. “Excuse me,” I ask, “You are recruiting new ninjas?” “O, you’ll have to talk to the boss about it. Just a second.” He disappears backstage briefly and comes back out together with the boss, his proud father.

“Excuse me,” I say to the ninja boss, and bow, putting on my most presentable Japanese manners and respect language. “I read over there that you are recruiting new ninjas.” “Ah. Yes.” He says. “I’m already 26, but I would be very interested in the kind of work you are offering.” “Hm,” he says, and turns to Ishizuka, who is standing next to me. “She knows Japanese, doesn’t she? She understands most of the things I’m talking about.” “She does, “ says Ishizuka. “Hm,” he looks at me again. “Well. And you speak English, too?” “Yes, Im teaching English conversation at the moment but my plan for Golden Week was to find a new job.” “Hm,” says the ninja master. “Where do you live?” “I live in Osaka.” “Well, that’s not too far away, is it.” “No, it is not.” “She has a black belt in karate,” Ishizuka advertises me. The ninja master keeps talking to Ishizuka. “Well, we usually take people in for weekends first, see how they do. If we think they can’t become professionals, we fire them immediately. But if they look fine, we take them in and train them. It takes about three years to get through the training you need to do professional work. Then, you can become an actress. And this child here, she has a good face.” Gladly, it doesn’t blush easily. “For women,” he adds, “That’s important.” “She’s strong,” says Ishizuka. “Are you flexible? Can you stretch?” “I am quite flexible,” I tell the lucky truth. “Hm. You know English and Japanese. You have a good face. We have been looking for someone like you. Think about this carefully, and if you really want to do it, come for an audition.” “What about my friend here? Can he come too?” I bring B-san into the conversation because I know he is dying to lead this dream of a life, getting paid for martial arts training. “No,” says the ninja coldly, casting a derogatory glance at the stripe of tattoos visible underneath B-san’s T-shirt. “We don’t accept people with tattoos. Tattoos sully the purity of the body we have been given by our parents and ancestors. We’ll have nothing to do with them.”
I bow and feel a pebble of sadness cast into my immediate surroundings, throwing up concentric circles like a heaving chest while the pebble gets stuck somewhere. “I will give you my card,” says the ninja and disappears backstage. “The audition is easy. We will look at how flexible you are. That’s all. The rest depends on nothing but the effort you put in. That’s everybody’s life here. Everybody’s salary depends on how much effort they put in. Think about it carefully. This is based on effort.”

I thank him and give him a long bow, and ask for his continued benevolence and guidance in the future. When I look up again, he has disappeared, and I wonder whether this was just a dream. On the other hand, sudden disappearance speaks for the presence of a ninja. This whole new idea is spinning round and round in my head like Tomonosuke's 500 Yen coin, but I don't know how to catch it, where to put it, and what to make of it. Keep rolling.