The Way of the Warrior - Chris Bradford [17]
A little Japanese boy sat cross-legged upon one of the cushions, staring in wide-eyed amazement at the foreigner with his golden hair and blue eyes.
The woman gestured for Jack to sit next to the boy, while she made herself comfortable on the opposite side.
There was an awkward silence.
Jack noted that the fourth cushion remained unoccupied and presumed they were waiting for someone. The little boy continued to stare at Jack.
‘I’m Jack Fletcher,’ he said to the little boy, attempting to break the silence. ‘What’s your name?’
The little boy convulsed in giggles at hearing Jack speak.
The woman spoke sharply to him and he went quiet. Jack looked at the woman.
‘I’m sorry. I don’t know who you are, or where I am, but I’m much obliged to you for looking after me. Please may I ask your name?’
She returned his gaze blankly. Then smiled without the faintest sign of comprehension having registered in her eyes.
‘I’m Jack Fletcher,’ he said, pointing at his chest and then pointing at the woman. ‘You are?’
Jack repeated the gesture several times. She still didn’t appear to understand, maintaining the same infuriating enigmatic smile. He was just about to give up trying to make himself understood when the little boy piped up.
‘Jaku Furecha,’ then pointing at his nose. ‘Jiro.’
‘Jiro. Yes, yes, my name is Jack.’
‘Jaku! Jiro! Jaku! Jiro!’ cried the boy in delight, alternately pointing at Jack and then at himself.
With a flood of understanding, the woman bowed. ‘Watashi wa Dāte Hiroko. Hi-ro-ko.’
‘Hi-ro-ko,’ repeated Jack slowly, returning the bow. At least, he now knew their names.
A side shoji slid open and Chiro the maid entered, bearing six small lacquered bowls on a tray. As she laid each one upon the table, Jack was suddenly aware how hungry he was. There was fish soup, rice, strips of uncooked strange vegetables, what appeared to be a thick wheat porridge and small pieces of raw fish. The maid bowed and left.
Jack wondered where the rest of the meal was. The small table was dotted with the little bowls of food, but surely there wasn’t enough for all of them? Where was the meat? The gravy? Even a bit of buttered bread? He noticed the fish wasn’t even cooked! Fearful of offending his host again, Jack waited to be served. There was a long moment of uncomfortable silence, then Hiroko picked up two little sticks by her bowl.
Jiro did the same.
Then, holding them in one hand, they began to pick up small amounts of food, delicately putting the morsels into their mouths. All the time, they warily eyed Jack.
Jack hadn’t even seen the sticks by his bowl. He examined the pencil thin bits of wood. How on earth was he supposed to eat with these?
Jiro smiled at Jack through a mouthful of food.
‘Hashi,’ said the little boy, pointing to them.
Jiro opened his own hand to show Jack how to hold the hashi correctly. But even though he managed to mimic Jiro’s scissor-like action, he couldn’t keep a grip on the fish or the vegetables long enough to lift them from their bowls.
The more he dropped the food, the more frustrated he got. Never one to admit defeat, Jack decided to attempt some rice. This had to be easier, since there was more of it. But half the rice immediately slid straight back into the bowl, the other half dropping all over the table. By the time it reached Jack’s mouth, all that remained was one small grain.
Nonetheless pleased by his accomplishment, Jack chewed on the solitary grain. He pretended to rub his belly in satisfaction.
Jiro laughed.
The little boy may have enjoyed the joke, thought Jack, but if he didn’t learn how to use these hashi soon, he was going to starve – and that would be no laughing matter!
10
ABUNAI!
Jack fell into a routine of bathing, eating and sleeping.
His body gradually recovered from the fever, his arm began to mend and he was able to take regular walks