The New Samurai (26 page)

But Yoshi shook his head. “No, you are like samurai,” he said, seriously, his forehead creased in concentration.

“In your left hand you are poet; in your right hand you are warrior: strong and gentle, together. We call this
way of the pen and way of the sword – Bushido – samurai’s code.”

Sam realised that Yoshi really was serious. He didn’t know how to respond.

“You see, Sam-san,” continued Yoshi, deep in thought, “samurai was educated man. They believe that learning martial arts and peaceful arts brought harmony. The peaceful arts are poetry, calligraphy, gardening, architecture, painting, tea ceremony, Noh and Kabuki theatre. You are poet, Sam-san, and writer. I know this. You are also warrior in your heart: and you are honourable man.”

Yoshi nodded to himself. “Great regard to honour and perseverance makes way we Japanese do business even today. This is why we have excellent work ethic – like you, Sam-san. My father see this; my father see everything,” he said, proudly. “He glad you my friend, even if you gaijin.”

Sam was taken aback; Mr Sato had hardly spoken to him – most of the curiosity had come from Mrs Sato. Sam had rather assumed that Yoshi’s father wasn’t delighted that his son had a gaijin friend.

“He thinks you make good husband for Yumi-chan,” said Yoshi.

Sam choked on his tea and stared at Yoshi with horrified eyes. Yoshi burst into peals of laughter but Sam still didn’t know if Yoshi was laughing at his expression of terror, or whether it was just a Yoshi-style joke. He smiled weakly and changed the subject as soon as possible.

The temperature began to drop. Sam kicked out the fire and crawled into the tent with his sleeping bag.

Yoshi was on his knees, muttering a quiet prayer. To whom or what, Sam didn’t know and he didn’t ask.

Sam’s Blog

Biker Haiku

My thighs are chafed

My arse is sore.

Motorbikes are the only winner.

Hi everyone!

Greetings from the mountains – and it really is cooler up here, thank God! Just like an English summer.

Yoshi and I had two amazing weeks biking around the Daisetsuzan or ‘the Great Snowy Mountains’ National Park. We borrowed a couple of 650cc Kawasaki’s from some of Yoshi’s friends, which I thought was pretty damn generous, especially now I’ve seen the way people drive around here. Luckily, where we were, the roads were fairly empty and we stayed away from the main tourist areas.

Most of the time we camped but we did stay a couple of nights in so-called Rider Houses, which are used by bikers (although not as hairy as in the UK – except for me – I didn’t shave for ten blissful days, not until the night before we were going back to Yoshi’s parents’).

Rider Houses are pretty basic – okay, very basic. Most of the time you roll your sleeping bag out onto the floor once the drinking has finished for the night. Even if that isn’t until the small hours, and even if you’re as drunk as a skunk, and even if you’re not aching after 30 seconds of lying on floor boards without so much as a tatami mat, there’s no chance of sleeping when surrounded by a dozen guys who snore like road drills. After that, we reckoned we were better off pitching the tent, even though brown bears like to come and check out the bins near the lodges occasionally. I saw one from a distance when we’d stopped to have lunch while we were hiking on the Grand Traverse trail (a kind of intense five-day hike through the mountains and across rope bridges). We were armed with bells to frighten away the bears. I don’t know if the bear was scared, but I was sh***ing myself.

We got back to Furano – where Yoshi’s parents live – in time for the Hokkai-ban-odori. This is a major festival that takes place every August and is a time when families get together. The nearest thing I can think of is Thanksgiving. People believe that at this time of year the spirits of their ancestors come back to be with their families.

The Satos cleaned the farm from top to bottom and Yoshi and I cleared out the main barn. Mrs Sato placed offerings of food in front of an altar along with the most amazing display of flowers that Yumi had been working on.

The next day was the first day of the festival proper. Yumi and Mrs Sato decorated special lanterns with the family crest. Then we all went to the graveyard in the town so the family could call to the spirits. Some people lit bonfires to guide the spirits home and burned incense. It gave the whole thing a really intense, eerie feel.

It felt intrusive being with the family while they were praying to their ancestors, so I wandered off by myself for a bit. I came across a part of the graveyard where there were dozens and dozens of tiny Buddhas with red scarves or little red capes tied around them. Later I asked Yoshi what they were and he said they were grave markers for stillbirths, miscarriages and abortions.

On the last day of the festival floating lanterns called toro nagashi were lit in the town and floated down the river to the sea. Apparently this is to guide the ancestors back to the spirit world.

There were lots of traditional songs and dances, people wore yukatas and danced around a huge bonfire in the town – everyone joined in, including me, yukata flapping in the wind.

Some of the dances, the odori, were held in gardens, some at shrines or temples. We were in the centre of town and there was a group of taiko drummers keeping the rhythm.

But, as this is the Japanese I’m talking about, the last night of the festival ended with a spectacular knees-up, drinking, carousing and general merrymaking. At some point in the evening Yoshi lost his yukata and we walked home at dawn with one yukata between us – and it was damned cold!

We handed over the bikes to Yoshi’s mates Isamu and Musao: Isamu’s had a slight dent on one of the panniers (courtesy of Yoshi, in case you were wondering), but otherwise there were no injuries, which is a miracle in itself.

Tomorrow we’re heading back to Tokyo. First we have to pick up some traditional Hokkaido souvenirs for people at the hostel and at work. Yoshi says it’s a way of apologising for having been on holiday!

So next time I write, I’ll be back in the city, with my nose to the grindstone. Same old, same old!

Sayonara!

Chapter 10 – September

Arriving back in Tokyo was like walking into a sauna. After the cooler air of the mountains, the heat was doubly oppressive; Sam and Yoshi were dripping by the time they’d walked the short distance from the subway to the hostel.

The first person they saw was Helen.

“Hello, boys!” she said, an enormous smile on her face.

She gave them both a big hug.

“Ugh! You’re all sweaty!” she said, wrinkling her nose.

Sam laughed but Yoshi looked embarrassed and scurried away to his room.

“Oh dear,” she said, “I think I’ve offended Yoshi. In less than 10 seconds.”

She sighed, then turned to Sam, her eyes crinkling happily.

“How was the trip?”

He grinned.

“Really good. Not at all sweaty. We were camping, went hiking, hung out with some bikers, drank sake. And I met Yoshi’s family – they were really great, really welcoming. How was your holiday – and where’s Malcolm?”

She pulled a face. “Malc had to go home to sort out everything. He’s coming back just before Christmas – then we can really start our gap year. But it was wonderful having him here – I’m missing him so much already – Christmas seems ages away.”

She looked at Sam.

“What are your plans? Any idea what you’ll do when your contract runs out at the end of the year? Will you stay on out here or go home?”

Sam shrugged. “I really have no idea right now. It depends on – stuff, you know?”

Helen smiled knowingly.

“Well, Paul got back yesterday, too. He’s been telling me all about his trip to Bangkok, but I think he’s editing; I get the distinct impression he’d rather tell you all about it.”

Sam groaned and Helen laughed.

“It’s a boy thing, I’m sure.” She paused, then continued casually, “Tara’s back, as well. She didn’t go away for long, just to see some friends for a few days.”

She raised her eyebrows and Sam felt suddenly tense. Helen patted his arm. “She’s popped out to do some shopping, but I think she’ll be back soon.”

Sam nodded without speaking.

“I’ll see you later,” said Helen, with a kind smile.

Sam hurried to his room, feeling oddly alert despite the long journey from Hokkaido. He dumped his duffel bag under his desk then ran down the stairs to the bathrooms. He showered quickly but spent longer than usual on shaving. Back in his room he threw on some clean clothes, trying to decide what he would say to Tara. Would she still be mad at him, or…?

His thoughts were interrupted by a knock on his door. Damn! He really didn’t want to hear Paul’s monologue about how much he’d drunk in Bangkok. He pulled the door open roughly.

But it wasn’t Paul.

It was Tara.

“Hi!” he said, surprise and pleasure colouring his voice.

“Hi.” She bit her lip and stared at him. She wasn’t smiling. “Can I come in?”

He pulled the door wide open.

“Of course. Come in. Er… sorry about the mess, I just got back.”

She smiled stiffly. “I know. Helen told me.”

“Oh.”

They stared at each other awkwardly.

“Er… would you like to sit down?” Sam started to move clothes off his desk chair to offer her a seat.

“No, that’s okay.”

She closed the door behind her but kept two fingers on the handle, as if she were going to bolt at any second. It was clear she was on edge.

“So,” she said, uncomfortably, “I got your letter.”

Sam tried to smile but his face seemed to have frozen. “Did you read it?” he said.

She gave a tiny nod. okay, so that was good, so far. Maybe.

Tara took a breath.

“That woman, she was your… ex-girlfriend?”

“Yes.”

She continued to stare at him, chewing on her lower lip.

“Why didn’t you sleep with her?” she asked in a rush. “She was totally up for it. Obviously.”

Sam swallowed, his eyebrows pulling together in a small frown.

“She wasn’t who I wanted to be with.”

Tara stared back and Sam felt a jolt of electricity run through him. His hand seemed to move towards her face of its own accord, pulling him helplessly towards her. He heard Tara’s sudden intake of breath as he leaned down to kiss her.

Their lips locked together urgently and her hands were in his hair, pulling him closer. Sam groaned softly, wrapping his arms around her tightly, his blood superheated. And then they were falling.

Paul was standing in the corridor, his room key in one hand, an unopened bottle of beer in the other, and an expression of intense irritation on his face.

Helen couldn’t help noticing his annoyance as she passed him on her way to the showers.

CRASH!

BANG! THUD!

CRASH!

“What on earth is going on in there?” said Helen. “It sounds like furniture is being broken!”

Paul smiled ruefully.

“Sam – and Tara,” he said, by way of explanation.

Helen rolled her eyes. “Finally!”

When Sam awoke the following morning, late in the morning, he remembered everything instantly. Tara lay with her head on his chest, breathing softly, her mouth slightly open, her long, lean body still wrapped around his.

He kissed the top of her shoulder and she sighed, her eyelids fluttering open. Her wide, blue eyes gazed into his and Sam grinned at her.

“Good morning.”

She smiled and stretched like a cat, rolling on top of him.

“Mmm! Morning!”

He hugged her to him, whispering in her ear.

“I could get used to this!”

She laughed quietly and bit him gently on his throat. “Is that right? So you’re pleased to see me?
How
pleased are you to see me?”

Sam didn’t have to think long about how to demonstrate the extent of his pleasure.

Some time later Tara’s stomach rumbled loudly and Sam laughed.

“Time for breakfast?” He fumbled in a pile of abandoned clothes, searching to find his wristwatch, “…or maybe lunch?”

“Definitely! I’m starving!” She paused. “Of course, that would mean getting up.”

“Not necessarily,” said Sam, with a laugh. “I’ll go foraging – you can stay here. What would you like: coffee, egg muffin, noodles?”

She smiled widely. “That’s very tempting, but I think I’d like to be vertical for a while.”

Sam raised his eyebrows. “If I recall, we were… for a while.”

“Hmm,” said Tara. “I vaguely remember that.”

Then she sighed. “Nope, I could really use a shower. Then maybe we can go and get something to eat together?”

“Okay.” He smiled. “Meet you in reception in 10 minutes?”

Her expression was amused. “Make it twenty. I’m pretty low maintenance but I am a woman.”

“I’m not likely to forget that in a hurry,” he murmured into her hair.

She pushed him away, playfully. “We’re getting up, remember?”

He sighed, releasing her. She already felt too far away.

Tara pulled on her clothes, frowning slightly as she hunted for her shirt. It was screwed up on top of Sam’s wardrobe.

“How did that get there?”

He smiled innocently, leaning on his elbow, his head propped on one hand as he watched her get dressed. “No idea. Weird, huh?”

“By the way,” she said, “I meant to ask. Were you… planning… last night?”

The question was too casual and she looked away from him.

He sat up in surprise. “Tara, no. Why would you think that?”

A faint blush showed through her tan.

“You shaved,” she muttered, then turned to stare at him accusingly.

He laughed softly.

“I definitely didn’t plan anything…” He shrugged. “But I did hope… that you… that you weren’t still angry with me or anything.”

He rubbed his cheek. “You’re pretty scary when you’re angry.”