Loek van Kooten, MA

Squished, overlooked, and maybe a bit traumatized, yet somehow holding the whole row together.

"In Hiroshima, the oleander, the first flower to bloom after the atomic bomb, is cherished as a symbol of hope and peace." So yes, it's toxic, but it also survived nuclear hellfire. Talk about resilient beauty with boundary issues. 夾 is the eternal "middle seat" of kanji.

広島市では、原爆で焼け野原になった土地に最初に花を咲かせた夾竹桃が希望と平和の象徴として愛されている。 Hiroshima-shi de wa, genbaku de yakenohara ni natta tochi ni saisho ni hana wo sakaseta kyōchikutō ga kibō to heiwa no taishō to shite aisarete iru.

The name itself is a botanical mashup: 夾 ("wedged between"), 竹 ("bamboo"), and 桃 ("peach"), because its leaves look like bamboo and its blossoms resemble peach flowers. It's a plant caught between elegance and danger, much like a geisha who also happens to be a Bond villain.

Nothing says "we've got you surrounded" like a warm, high-velocity embrace from both sides. And then there's 夾竹桃 (kyōchikutō): the oleander. A flower so beautiful it looks like it's auditioning for a perfume ad, yet secretly poisonous.

Hōgeki de saisho no nihatsu wo mokuhyō no zengo ni chakudan sase, kyōsa de meichū seido wo takameta. "By landing the first two shells before and behind the target, accuracy was improved through bracketing." It's military poetry for "let's hug the enemy with explosions."

It retired quietly, possibly due to claustrophobia. But it lives on inside some gloriously niche words, each proving that being wedged isn't always a bad thing. Take 夾叉 (kyōsa), an artillery term meaning "to bracket." Picture this: 砲撃で最初の二発を目標の前後に着弾させ、夾叉で命中精度を高めた。

It's just ancient Japanese for "Help! I'm being hugged too hard." The big guy in the middle didn't sign up for this, but the two small ones are clearly overenthusiastic about personal space. 夾 doesn't make the school-taught kanji list anymore.

And boy, does it look the part: a big person (大) trapped between two little people (人 + 人). It's basically a visual metaphor for being squished in the middle seat on a budget flight to Osaka. This is what linguists call a compound ideogram, but let's be real.

The Forgotten Sandwich Kanji: 夾 (kyō)

夾 is the kanji equivalent of that weird cousin no one invites to parties but who somehow still shows up in the family photo. Officially, it means "to be wedged" or "to be stuck between things."

Somewhere along the way, hair turned into hierarchy. So next time you see 長, remember: it started as a tired old man with great hair and ended up running your company. In the epic saga of kanji evolution, this one truly grew into its role.

Translation: Maria is one ancient kanji away from being CEO. See the connection? In Japanese, length equals leadership. The man with the longest hair became the village elder; today, the person with the longest title signs your paycheck.

社長 (shachō): company president, probably owns the building and the golf course next door. Even the humble adjective 長い (nagai, long) carries the same energy. マリアさんは髪が長いです。 Maria-san wa kami ga nagai desu. Maria has long hair.

Fast-forward a few millennia, and 長 has been promoted, repeatedly. It now rules the modern office world. 部長 (buchō): division chief, owns three pens, four neckties, and your weekend. 課長 (kachō) : section head, specializes in calling meetings that could've been emails.

This ancient grandpa stood tall, locks flowing like he was auditioning for a hair-care ad in 1200 B.C. And just like that, length became synonymous with wisdom and authority. The longer your hair, the more people had to listen to you.

Hair Today, Boss Tomorrow: The Glorious Evolution of 長 (nagai / chō)

Once upon a time, 長 wasn't a corporate overlord; it was just a sketch of an old dude with really majestic hair. Picture Gandalf meets a shampoo commercial.

And with her rise, Japan stands on the brink of a new conservative era. One that may redefine what it means to lead the world's third-largest democracy.

READ ON: www.loekalization.com/blog/blog/20...

Few saw it coming. While Tokyo's political elites whispered about compromise and continuity, Japan's countryside was quietly preparing a revolt. Their message has now thundered through the halls of power: Sanae Takaichi, the unapologetic nationalist once seen as unelectable, has won.

YouTube video by Japanology The Japanese Word That Never Ends

Ever felt like your life's just one long "To Be Continued"? Then you already know 続く (tsuzuku), the Japanese verb that never quits. From fevers to friendships to your boss's endless meetings, tsuzuku means it just... keeps... going.

Watch our deep dive: www.youtube.com/shorts/6d_sZ...

"Due to continued poor performance, the coach decided to accept a pay cut." (His bank account: R.I.P.) So remember, 俸 isn't just "salary": it's "salary, but make it respectful." Because in Japan, even your paycheck deserves a ritual.

(Somewhere, a coach gently weeps into his unpaid overtime.) 減俸 (genpō) – salary cut. 業績不振が続き、スポーツチームの監督は減俸を受け入れることに決めた。 Gyōseki fushin ga tsuzuki, supootsu chiimu no kantoku wa genpō o ukeireru koto ni kimeta.

2020-nen shiizun de wa, Toronto Raptaazu to honkeiyaku o musubi, nenpō wa yaku 7380 man-en to iwarete imasu. "In the 2020 season, he signed a contract with the Toronto Raptors for an annual salary of about 73.8 million yen."

Honestly, your boss should be handing you your paycheck on a silk pillow. 俸 loves company. You rarely see it alone. It shows up in high-level words like: 年俸 (nenpō) – annual salary. 2020年シーズンでは、トロント・ラプターズと本契約を結び、年俸は約7380万円と言いわれています。

Fun fact: 奉 is the parent of 捧 (sasageru), which means "to offer with both hands," including a fourth hand on the left (扌), because three hands apparently wasn't clear enough. Yes, this family of kanji is all about treating objects (especially pay) with deep, spiritual respect.

It's built from 廾 (two hands), キ (a symbol), and 𡗗 (object): basically someone taking an offering with two hands... and a bonus third hand just to flex. Because why stop at two when you can triple the reverence?

Think of 俸 as the paycheck you accept like you're meeting the emperor: with both hands, serious face, and the silent pressure of not messing it up. Here's the breakdown. 俸 = 人 (person) + 奉 (hō). And 奉? Oh boy. That one's like a three-handed magic trick.

@tonnie1963.bsky.social The Three-Handed Salary: Why 俸 Is the Most Polite Paycheck Ever

Let's talk about 俸 (hō), a kanji that practically bows while handing you money. This isn't your casual Friday paycheck: it's salary with ceremony.

But procurement simplicity often comes at a price: higher total costs, lower translator incentives, and continuity risks that directly affect brand perception.

READ ON: www.loekalization.com/blog/blog/20...

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