The Purple Heart by Vincent Yee Page B

what she was doing in her own home. She
replied in a curt fashion, “I was using the bathroom.”
    Minami then brushed him
aside as he took a step back to let her through. She paid him no mind, walked
down the stairs and into the living room. Her mother, sisters, and brother were
sitting around the coffee table while her father was standing eye to eye with
the other FBI agent. At five foot nine, her father was tall for a Japanese man.
He had a natural athletic build, broad shoulders and a muscular frame from his
daily fishing.
    Her father glanced over at
her and the stranger, an FBI agent, who turned his head to look at her as well.
Minami returned the look with resentment and then turned away. She sat next to
her mother, who held onto Yoshi, who in turn simply eyed his father and the FBI
agent. The FBI agent then looked back at Minami’s father.
    “Mr. Ito, as you know with
recent events, we feel that it’s in the best interest that you come with us so
that we may ask you some brief questions,” said the FBI agent.
    “Simply questions?” replied
Mr. Ito.
    “Simply questions. You’ll
be back in time for supper, latest tomorrow.”
    Mr. Ito looked at him with
some skepticism and said, “I’m a man of honor. I have nothing to hide.”
    “Wait!” interjected Minami
whose expression turned to one of worry as she rose to her feet despite her
mother’s attempt to pull her down. “Where are you taking him and why? He hasn’t
done a thing!”
    Mr. Ito shot Minami a stern
look but hidden in that look was a sense of pleading. Her father was only doing
what he thought was best to protect his family, and if that meant sacrificing
himself, he would.
    The FBI agent simply said,
“We’re only going to question him.”
    Minami’s father motioned
with his eyes begging his daughter to sit down. She understood and sat back
down. Her father didn’t do anything. He had nothing to hide. Everything would
be fine, she told herself. The second FBI agent came down the stairs and
brought with him a box he had taken from one of Minami’s sister’s room with
several items. He then walked into the kitchen and continued his search.
    “You can bring a jacket if
you like,” said the first FBI agent.
    “I thought you said I’d be
back before dinner?” asked Mr. Ito.
    “It’s only if you get
cold,” replied the FBI agent.
    “I’m a fisherman, I think I
know more about the cold than you,” Mr. Ito said smartly.
    The FBI agent looked at him
dead on, took out a notepad and jotted down a few notes.
    The second FBI agent
returned from the kitchen with the two-way radio along with many kitchen
utensils, such as knives and anything that had a sharpened edge. He stood
alongside the first FBI agent and sifted through the items in the box for him
to look at. There were a few nods exchanged between the two of them.
    Minami again got up and
asked, “You’re taking the radio? How are we supposed to contact our father when
he’s fishing?”
    The FBI agents looked up
and didn’t answer her.
    “You’re taking our kitchen
knives? How are we supposed to cut our food?” asked Minami.
    There was a pause and the
second FBI agent responded, “I thought you people use chopsticks.”
    Minami glared back at him
for his condescending remark. She didn’t like him. She didn’t like either of
them for treating her family like second-class citizens, or worse, like spies.
She was about to say something else when her mother’s firm tug finally pulled
her down and her father looked at her sternly once more. Then she realized that
she might be making the situation worse by being defiant. She finally sat down
and could see the worried faces of her sisters who sat across from her. She
decided to put up with the situation and hoped for the best.
    “You’ll need to come with
us now,” said the first FBI agent.
    Mr. Ito nodded and walked
over to his family. Everyone seemed to have gotten up at once. He embraced his
wife and his children gathered around