The Ring of Water - Chris Bradford [15]
Jack was pleased to see Ronin stepping out of his wooden getas and into the shop. They would need provisions with a good day’s trek still ahead and his hunger pangs were already beginning to bite.
As he lingered outside the entrance, his feet too dirty to enter the store, he contemplated how different this custom was from life in England. Shoes and boots caked in mud soiled the floors of every establishment throughout his homeland. Streets were awash with muck and rubbish, houses and shops grimy and rat-infested as a result. Despite Japan disowning him, along with every other foreigner, Jack still admired much of Japanese culture – its cleanliness and sense of order being among its many virtues. Deep down, Jack didn’t want to leave. If he’d had a choice, Jack would have stayed in Toba with Akiko and made a life for himself as a samurai. But, with the Shogun after him and the need to return to England for the sake of his sister, that was not to be. Even though he thought of Akiko every day, he’d long since left that dream behind.
Ronin reappeared, clutching his purchase – a large ceramic bottle of saké.
‘Time to go,’ he said.
‘What about food?’ asked Jack, worried the rice wine would be their only sustenance.
Delving into his kimono sleeve, Ronin counted the coins he had. ‘There might be enough.’
They crossed the road to another store, where a sweet smell wafted through the air. The establishment was small, with space for only a few customers inside. Two men sat round a sunken hearth, sipping hot tea and eating white apple-sized dough balls. At the entrance was a tiny counter and beside the door frame stood a wooden statue. Reaching Jack’s knee, the carved figure was of a badger-like creature on its hind legs. It had a round distended belly, imploring eyes and a broad grin. On its head, it wore a straw cone-shaped sunhat and in its paws carried a bottle of saké and an empty purse. To Jack’s mind, the creature looked exceedingly mischievous.
‘We’ll eat outside,’ said Ronin, indicating a rough wooden bench to the right of the statue. ‘That way you won’t have to remove your hat.’
He banged on the counter and a little man with bright eyes and a shiny forehead popped up from behind and bowed. ‘Yes, how may I be of service?’
‘Four manjū,’ ordered Ronin.
‘What flavour would you like?’ asked the manjū vendor, pointing to a board upon which six fillings were listed:
(meat)
(green tea)
(aubergine)
(chestnut)
(peach)
(red bean)
Ronin tugged at his beard as he briefly considered the menu. ‘Two meat and two bean will do.’
Bowing again, the little man lifted the lid off a square wooden box. A cloud of steam burst forth, dispersing to reveal a dozen or so milky-white buns. He selected two, then took another two from a different box.
‘That’ll be four bitasen, please,’ he said, proudly presenting Ronin with two plates of steamed buns.
Ronin produced four copper coins and paid the vendor. They sat down upon the bench and tucked into their meal. Jack took a bite of his first manjū, the doughy outside giving way to a meaty filling reminiscent of pork, and he groaned contentedly. It took a great deal of willpower not to wolf down the entire bun in one go. As they ate, Jack eyed the strange wooden creature next to him.
‘What’s that supposed to be?’ asked Jack, nodding at the statue.
‘It’s a tanuki,’ Ronin replied, washing down his manjū with a mouthful of saké. ‘It’s meant to encourage customers.’
Noticing the samurai’s mood mellowing with the consumption of food and wine, Jack continued, ‘Is there such an animal?’
Ronin nodded. ‘But many believe they’re shape-shifters, taking on other forms to play tricks on people.’
‘What do they change into?’ asked Jack.
‘Trees, teapots, monks –’
Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!
The hammering Jack had heard earlier resumed. It was now much closer and Ronin grimaced at the ear-splitting disturbance.
‘Teapots?’ queried Jack, amused at the idea, though he did now wonder whether the Riddling Monk might have been a meddlesome