Lesson 2: Naming & Pointing

___ desu. — “It’s ___. / I’m ___. / That’s ___.”

Drop any word into the blank, add desu, and you have a complete, polite sentence. Notice what’s missing: no “I,” no “it,” no “that” — Japanese happily leaves the subject unsaid and lets the situation supply it (more on this in “The move” below).

Maiku desu.

Your name + desu — a complete self-introduction. (Any name slots in; foreign names come out in Japanese sounds, so Mike becomes Maiku.)

Hajimemashite.

hajimemashite — “nice to meet you,” the opener of every first meeting. A memorized whole: say it, then name yourself with ___ desu.

Yoroshiku onegaishimasu.

yoroshiku onegaishimasu — the introduction’s closing formula; English has no clean version (“be good to me” comes closest). Look at the second word: it’s Lesson 1’s onegaishimasu, doing one more job.

Hajimemashite. Maiku desu. Yoroshiku onegaishimasu.

The whole first-meeting arc, three pieces long — and the other person will hand nearly the same three back. Any name slots into the middle.

Tomodachi desu.

tomodachi — friend. Gesture at your travel companion and this introduces them.

Kazoku desu.

kazoku — family. Same frame, new word — that’s the whole grammar.

Tanaka-san desu.

-san attaches to other people’s names — Mr./Ms./Mrs. all in one, and the polite default for everyone you meet. One hard rule: never put -san on your own name.

Tanaka-san desu ka.

ka at the end turns any statement into a question — no word-order change, no new melody needed. Statement + ka = question. That’s the entire question system.

Iie, tomodachi desu.

And the frame snaps straight onto Lesson 1: iie + a corrected answer. You’ll answer most ka questions exactly like this — hai or iie, then the frame.

___ wa ___ desu. — “As for ___, it’s ___.”

wa puts a spotlight on a topic: “as for X — it’s Y.” This is the frame for saying something about something. It’s also where pointing becomes conversation, so meet the pointing words: Japanese splits “this/that” three ways by distance — ko- (near me), so- (near you), a- (away from both) — plus do- for “which?”. Standalone, they end in -re: kore, sore, are, dore.

Namae wa Maiku desu.

namae — name. “As for (my) name — Mike.” Again no “my”: the topic is obviously your own name when you’re introducing yourself.

Kore wa nan desu ka.

kore — this thing near me — and nan — what. Point at anything and ask. (nan is the form of nani used before desu; you’ll meet bare nani as its own word.)

Namae wa nan desu ka.

And nan (“what”) works on names as well — the polite way to ask for someone’s. (A name received is a gift: put -san on it immediately, and you’ll never need a word for “you.” One thing to know: Japanese names arrive family-name first — Tanaka Yuki desu. introduces Ms. Tanaka — and the family name is the one that takes -san: Tanaka-san.)

Sore wa nan desu ka.

sore — that thing near you — perfect for whatever the shopkeeper is holding.

Are wa nan desu ka.

are — that thing away from both of you — the one on the top shelf.

Dore desu ka.

dore — which one? — the question member of the standalone set kore, sore, are, dore.

Kono hito wa tomodachi desu.

kono + a noun means “this ___” — and hito is person. The same ko-so-a-do system has a second column for use before a noun: kono, sono, ano, dono. So: kore = “this,” kono hito = “this person.”

Ano hito wa dare desu ka.

dare — who. Ano hito (“that person”) is also how you say “he/she” in this course — point with words, not pronouns.

Sono hito wa dare desu ka.

sono — the middle distance (“that ___ by you”): someone standing next to you — a companion, the customer ahead of you.

Ano hito wa Tanaka-san desu.

To answer a dare (“who?”) question, drop the name into this same ___ wa ___ desu frame — Ano hito wa [name]-san desu. Ask with a question word, answer by swapping the answer into its slot.

Dono hito desu ka.

dono + noun — “which ___?” — the question word of the before-a-noun column. Answer with an open hand and the same frame.

Tanaka-san no tomodachi desu.

no links two nouns: X no Y = “X’s Y.” And notice this dropped back into the simple ___ desu. frame — old frames never retire.

Watashi no tomodachi desu.

watashi — I/me. Watashi no = “my.” (As a subject, watashi is mostly left unsaid — spend it only for contrast.)

___ o kudasai. — “Please give me ___.”

The requesting frame. kudasai is “please give me,” so it asks for a concrete thing; o marks that thing. This is the polite transactional default in shops — with pointing, it buys anything in Japan.

Kore o kudasai.

The single most useful shopping sentence in the course. Point + kore o kudasai — done. (Prices join in Lesson 3.)

Sore o kudasai.

sore — the one near the shopkeeper: the one they’re holding up, the one behind the counter.

Are o kudasai.

are — the one on the high shelf neither of you can reach without a stepladder.

Kore, onegaishimasu.

And the Lesson 1 way still works: a pointing word + onegaishimasu. In a shop the two are interchangeable — use whichever comes out first. They are not equals everywhere, though: kudasai means “please give me,” so it needs something that can be put in your hand, while onegaishimasu is the all-purpose “please handle this” and never runs out of room. So when only one of them comes out, make it onegaishimasu. Lesson 5 picks this up.

The hard English idea: every sentence needs a subject — I am, it is, she is. The MiniCore move: say only what’s new; the frames imply the subject, and context does the rest. You’ve already been doing it all lesson.

Tomodachi desu ka.

No “he” anywhere — the person you’re both looking at is the subject. Adding a pronoun here would sound strange, not careful.

Watashi wa Maiku desu.

Watashi wa comes out only for contrast — “him? no no, I’m Mike.” If there’s no contrast, plain Maiku desu is better Japanese.

Watashi-tachi wa kazoku desu.

-tachi turns a person into that person’s group: watashi-tachi = we. Useful at restaurant doors and ticket counters when you sweep a hand at your companions.

The Lesson 1 opener + a pointing word: attention, then request. The full shop interaction in four words.

Are, onegaishimasu.

are + onegaishimasu — pointing past the counter.

Kore, douzo.

douzo with a named object — offering something specific instead of just gesturing.

Kore wa daijoubu desu.

The polite decline, now aimed at a specific thing: “this one, I’m fine without.”

Watashi wa daijoubu desu.

watashi wa earning its keep — contrast: “(my friend will have one, but) I’m fine.”

Hai, kore desu.

hai + the naming frame: confirming which one you meant.

The harvester. Point at anything, deploy this, and Japan itself teaches you the word — which you can then use in every frame you own, immediately. nihongo — the Japanese language. Memorize the sentence whole; don’t pick it apart (that little de gets explained properly in Lesson 6). When you hear the answer, echo it back with ka — “Hashi desu ka.” — to lock it in and confirm you caught it. And when a word is a keeper, bank it before it fades: type it into your phone in romaji, exactly as it sounded — hashi = chopsticks — or echo it into a voice memo when your hands are full. (Typing is worth the extra seconds when you can spare them: spelling out what you heard is ear-training in itself, and you can already write every sound this language makes.) Then, the same evening, turn the capture into a card in your personal Anki deck — front chopsticks, back hashi — and the word is yours for good. Setting up that deck takes two minutes; the How to Drill page walks you through it.

daiji — important. Point at the writing and ask this before asking what it says. Most written Japanese around you is not for you, and the usual answer is one you already own: daijoubu desu — you’re fine, walk on. Only a hai (or daiji desu) makes the next question worth asking: Kore wa nan desu ka — and the person will explain it, which is what you really wanted. If the explanation comes back too fast, Lesson 1 has you covered: yukkuri onegaishimasu — or Eigo, daijoubu desu ka.

Kono nihongo wa wakarimasen.

Look closely: every word here is already yours — kono from this lesson, nihongo from the harvester, wakarimasen from Lesson 1. Say it when someone hands you paper (a form, a Japanese-only menu), or when a kind helper starts reading a sign out loud to you — they mean well, but hearing the words doesn’t help; this sentence steers them toward explaining instead. Hand a form back with it, and staff will point through the blanks with you, one at a time.