Japanese Slang (10 page)

Younger bandits who storm their mansions without the perpetual checking and rechecking of the premises are branded by their elders as
parrari
(foolish ones). The youngsters throw back at the streetwise cow proverb the classical rejoinder:

•   
Y
jin ni shiro horobizu.
A fortress can not be stormed cautiously.

A looter of substance skulks around the house one last time. This final precaution is called “swimming”
(oyogu),
“sidling”
(oyoru),
or “flower listening”
(kiku no hana).
If there is the slightest sign of danger, there is still time to safely abort the mission.

The burglars will have chosen a house amenable to the method of breaking and entering that they prefer. On the streets all these professionals are
akisunerai
(empty-nest targeters), but when they finally crawl into a yard with widgets, tweezers, and window jiggers in hand, they acquire more specific names.

Some of the more athletic individuals, for instance, are known as
agari
(ascenders),
nobi
(climbers),
ete
(monkeys), and
kumo
(spiders). They scamper over hedges and walls and onto balconies, usually entering the house from the top floor and working their way down. The thieves' jargon secretly calls its roofs
neya
(a simple inversion of the standard word for roof,
yane),
or
ten
(heaven) and roof windows are called
nekoiri
(cat entrances). A wall is
beka
(an inversion of the regular word for wall,
kabe),
and the thief's standard word for door is
tanka
(abusive words). When it comes to locks, Japanese thief jargon can spin out endless reels of inspired metaphors. There is the
ebi
(shrimp): one has to pluck and pull at the shell to break through into its delicate body; the
hana
(flower), which one can pick
(toru);
and the
eri
(collar), a witty mispronunciation of
iri
(entry). Locks can be
roku
(pulley), and lock picking
rokutsuri
(pulley fishing). Some cliques call locks
yakuban
(turning part), others
tsukimushi
(attached insects). Some gangs prefer more sensitive expressions such as
momiji
(maple leaves) and
mimochi musume
(pregnant daughter); in her delicate condition she must be handled with the softest of touches. Down south, on Osaka's streets, locks are known as
aisu
(rammable blowholes),
kudarimushi
(lower insects) or
sagarimushi
(low-down insects), and further down, in Wakayama city, thieves call locks
sanpira
and
enko.

The most ingenious way to enter a mansion is to march brashly up the garden path. Debonair thieves who simply walk up to the main door are known as
mae
(fronts). Once on the porch, each has his own method. The
aritsuke
(ant attachers),
kogatana
(daggers),
sori
(benders), and
atetsukai
(blade users) stand in full view of the street and swiftly slip their metallic contraptions into the locks to jiggle them open. The
shippiki
-needle tests the lock's sturdiness and its make, while the
takehari
(bamboo needle) and the
gen
(bamboo teakettle handle) are used to press down the tumblers. These quick-fingered lock pickers are not above working in full view of the street. A passerby glancing into the garden would see only a tired individual hunched over, fumbling tipsily with his keys.

Front doors that succumb smoothly to the professional's touch are known as
tanka ga moroi
(the curse words are fragile).

In tougher mansions, where doors are double-and even triple-locked, the
kobuya
(gnarlers), and the
yaburi
(breakers) go to work with a hatchet. Their forceful technique is called
akebabarashi
(opening-place liquidation) or
tankahiraki
(Curse-word releasing). If the stalwart door still does not yield, then a small high-powered saw, the
menoko
(child of the eye), is flicked
into action. This machine is used by the
shibuita hane
(board removers) and the
kiji
(grain wooders), who will saw their way through the body of the door and leave the locked frame standing.

•   
Komatta na! Akebabarashi no saich
ni ate ga dame ni natchimau to wa!
Damn! How could my jigger have broken right as I was working that door!

•   
Tankahiraki no toki ni wa ar
mu ni ki o tsukero yo!
Be careful of the alarm when you break down that door!

•   
Kono menoko de d
yatte shigoto shiro'tte y
n da yo?
How the hell am I supposed to work with this saw?

Doors that are made of a robust metal, with crowbar and iron cross-beam reinforcements, are called
tanka akan'
(the curse words won't open). The only door specialists who can handle these formidable barricades are the
tsuriage
(jack screwers) and the
tenbin
(weighing scales). They do what is known as
karahiku
(pulling off the husk), in which they zero in on the hinges with drills, wrenches, and blowtorches, and lift out door and frame as a unit.

Another breed of thief prefers entering through windows. The easiest, many argue, is the bathroom window, dubbed in thief jargon as either
hachinosu
(nest of the bee) or
hachisu
(bee's nest). Few of them have locks, and if they are shut from the inside a brisk jolt with a
baita,
a metal staff whose ends have been chiseled down to a sharp point, will spring the frame open. Brigands who hinge their choice of mansion on the size and approachability of this window are classed by their peers as
haiy
(hot-water enterers).

Some thieves prefer to target the mansion's larger porch or balcony windows. These thieves travel light, their tool bags sporting a simple rope to climb to the balcony and a small diamond glass cutter to remove window panes. The jargon calls these masters
sugarahazushi, sugara
being the secretive reversal of
garasu
(glass), while
hazushi
means “remover.” More obscurely they are
murakumo
(cloud masses).

When doors are obstructed and windows barred, the
amakiri
(heaven cutters) spring into action. Using wrenches, electric saws, or even concrete blasters, they cut, kick, saw, or boost their way through the roof. The police call these thieves
yanetsutai
(roof enterers) and
hai
(scramblers),but the men and women who brave the slippery tiles and shaky corrugated roofings give each other more elevated names. The younger ones are the
nyanzoku
(meow gang), known also more morbidly as the
nennen koz
(sleep sleep little boy); they hope to tiptoe soundlessly through the children's room upstairs without startling an infant. Older professionals prefer the even more macabre
sagarigumo
(descending spider). They hook their ropes to the frame of the skylight and silently glide down into the house. The roof robbers define their descent into the upper rooms as
ten kara yuku
(coming from heaven). The idea of combining the heavens with burglary caught on, and soon roof specialists were inventing one grandiloquent name after another:
tenzutai
(enterers from heaven),
tengaishi
(heavenly-canopy masters),
tenshi
(heaven masters), and
tengari
and
tongari
(heaven hunters). Other names that have been passed down from generation to generation are
watarikomi
(cross-and-enterer),
neyahaguri
(roof ripper),
tatsu
(dragon),
nezumimekuri
(ripping
mice), and
kamisori
(“razorblades,” or looters who cut into the roof). The brand of roof thief who works exclusively at night is the
goishita
(dark down). Men and women who access roofs by shimmying up telephone poles call themselves
denshin
(telegrams) and
denshinkasegi
(telegram breadwinners). Tokyo's Chinese jargon circles donated their own mellifluous word,
teiauchintsu.