The New Samurai (36 page)

The whole thing finished with a spectacular fireworks display. It was LOUD!

Up in the mountains where we were staying the leaves are beautiful now autumn has come, but I've been told by everyone that they're not up to par compared with previous years. They have that countryside penchant to complain that October and November have been too warm and dry! Did they forget about the typhoon already?! This affects the leaves apparently but they look fine to me. I can see why one of the names for Japan is Land of a Thousand Autumns.

Although 75% of Japan is covered with forested mountains, there is a lot of concrete, too. Yoshi says they need it on the coast as it’s extremely important to help protect the towns during typhoons and tsunamis, as we saw all up and down the coast from Fukushima, but these walls of concrete are a really big eyesore. Around here, where the valleys are steep, there is a big forestry industry and a lot of these areas have concrete and meshes following the roads to help strengthen against landslides. It really is a shame, but if you go a bit deeper into the woods there's no sign of human inhabitation at all. I did get a chance to explore a bit – I don’t think there were any bears in this area but Yoshi insisted that we sing to keep them away (as we didn’t have any cow bells to wear!). Well, he sang, I made a noise that sounded like a bear choking, apparently. And I also found out that Yoshi knows every Simon and Garfunkel song ever written – it could have been worse. If the hike had been any longer he’d have moved on to the Beyonce oeuvre, or failing that, Celine Dion. Dear God!

We got a day in Kyoto, which was amazing. We visited Ise-jingu, Japan’s most sacred shrine. But the best thing, for me, anyway, was the famous nightingale floor at Nijo Castle. The castle was built in the early 1600s by Tokugawa Ieyasu, the shogun. He was so paranoid about being assassinated that he had these special wooden floors created. Every time someone walks on them, the way they’re constructed means that the wood rubs together and it really does sound like nightingales singing. In other words, it’s impossible to cross the floor in silence – and we all tried – in our socks! (In Japan no-one has holey socks because you have to take your shoes off all the time. Keith, take note!) Anyway, the nightingale floor would have made it completely impossible for anyone to sneak up on you in the night and cut your throat.

It kinda reminds me of the floorboards at home when Fiona used to try and sneak in late without being caught by our mum! Now we know why she never got them fixed, hey, sis?

That’s all the news that’s fit to print.

Sayonara!

Fiona’s haiku

Silently my sister creeps

Loud in the dark, one more step.

Caught by mum.

Chapter 13 – December

Sam was creased up laughing as Kazuo marched across the classroom wearing a bowler hat, arm-in-arm with Harumi, who was wearing a scarf around her head fifties style. Then Fumio slouched after them wearing a pink Mochican wig, his face screwed up trying to look cool. The girls in the class giggled and the other boys howled with laughter.

They were practising for Sam’s school assembly – a lecture on British culture. At least that’s what it was supposed to be. Sam had had another idea.

The classroom door opened and the students fell silent instantly. Sam twisted round, the smile falling from his face as he saw the severe expression on Ms Amori’s face.

“Patterson-san,” she said, her voice steely, “Tanaka-san would like to speak to you.” She narrowed her eyes a fraction, “if it is convenient.”

Sam followed her out of the classroom. He felt the need to explain.

“We were practising for the school assembly on British culture. I thought it would be… fun… to use music and fashion from the last fifty years, so…”

His words trailed off. He couldn’t tell if she wasn’t listening or just so deeply disapproving that she preferred not to hear.

He’d hoped that on his return from Nagasaki, a thawing of relations would have continued. In which case, he seemed doomed to disappointment. There was no entente; Ms Amori’s hauteur was entirely intact.

She strode along the corridor, her wintry face freezing every student she saw, icy intolerance billowing like a cape around her.

She knocked sharply on the headteacher’s door and entered on his command, waving Sam to follow her.

“Aah, Patterson-san! Dozo.”

Mr Tanaka pointed to a pair of chairs and Ms Amori sat down smartly, her feet crossed at the ankles as if she were attending a Swiss finishing school for gels, not a state school in downtown Tokyo. Sam sat next to her, not immune to the tension that radiated from her.

“Patterson-san. I have spoken with Frau Brandt. She informs that your contract is finishing soon,” said Mr Tanaka.

Sam nodded.

“Ah, so. Your performance here has been satisfactory. We wish to make offer of full-time teaching position.”

He smiled encouragingly and Sam realised that he needed to reply. He was so surprised that it took a moment for his brain to catch up with his mouth.

“Er, thank you. I’m… pleased. Surprised, but pleased. I wasn’t expecting… Could I have a few days to think about it?”

“Certainly,” said Mr Tanaka, a small frown appearing between his eyebrows. Then he smiled again. “You wish to speak with your family, of course.”

He stood and offered his hand. “You answer before Kurisumasu, please.”

It had been a short interview, quite un-Japanese: but to the point.

Ms Amori escorted him from the room. She seemed to be debating whether or not to speak.

“You do not wish to stay in Tokyo, Patterson-san?”

Sam shook his head slowly and took a deep breath.

“I don’t know. I haven’t decided… anything. I didn’t think…” he gestured helplessly towards Mr Tanaka’s office. “It didn’t occur to me that I’d be offered a job here. It’s taken me by surprise. I guess I just thought I’d be going… home… soon. I’ll have to think about it.”

Ms Amori nodded once and turned to leave. Then she paused.

“We have had many language assistants in this school,” she said. “They are rarely serious people because for them this is a holiday – a gap year, as you say. None were offered a permanent position here.”

She let that sink in as she stared at Sam. Then she turned sharply on her heel and marched off down the corridor.

Sam was late. He hurried back from school, willing the train to go faster, and jogging the two and a half blocks from the subway to the hostel, his breath frosting in the chilly afternoon air.

Yoshi and Helen were already waiting in the entrance. Helen tapped her wrist watch.

“Just give me a minute!” Sam yelled, running up the stairs and nearly tripping over Yoshi, who was on his way down carrying an enormous backpack.

“Sam-san! We must go now!” said Yoshi.

“One minute!”

Sam bounded into his room, shed his work clothes and pulled on a thick sweater and a pair of boots. His coat was over the back of the chair and his duffel bag was already packed. He slammed the door behind him and took the stairs two at a time, skidding to a halt in front of Helen.

“How’d I do?” he said, a grin on his face.

She rolled her eyes. “You’re going to give me grey hairs – more of them.”

He planted a kiss on her cheek and she pushed him away, trying not to smile.

Forty minutes later they were checking in at the airport for a flight to Sapporo.

“I’m still not sure about this,” said Helen. “I’ve never skied in my life. I don’t want to break something two weeks before Malc flies out.”

“Chill, Helen!” said Paul. “You’ll be skiing smoking volcanoes by Sunday.”

Helen threw him a scornful look and Paul had the sense to look the other way.

“They’ve got nursery slopes,” said Sam, soothingly. “You’ll be fine. And if you really don’t like it, the onsen there are amazing. You’ll have a good time.”

Yoshi looked anxious. It was important to him that all his friends enjoyed themselves.

“You will be happy and enjoyable, Helen-san,” said Yoshi. “I take you to nursery slope, no problem.”

“Thanks, Yoshi,” said Helen, “but I know you’re dying to take these goons out to the difficult bits. Double black diamonds, or whatever it is. I’ll be fine. I just hope it’s not too embarrassing when five-year-olds are whizzing past me.”

Sam laughed. “We’ve all had that happen to us: kids that age have no fear. Their bones are like green wood – they just bounce.”

“Are you sure
you
should be skiing,” said Helen, “what with your knee and all?”

Sam pulled a face. “I’ll be fine, thanks.”

“Sure!” said Paul. “Anyway, snowboarding is harder on ankles than knees. If he hurts anything it’ll be his ass. So stop worrying – it’s going to be fun!”

Helen muttered something under her breath. Sam raised his eyebrows: he was surprised a nice girl from Swansea knew such a word.

The flight was crowded with Tokyoites heading for the mountains, garish in their brightly-coloured ski jackets.

Paul and Yoshi sat together, planning what sounded like a double-date with Yumi and Miho. Helen stared out of the window and Sam pulled out a book to read, glad of the extra leg-room in his aisle seat.

“How come you were so late getting back from school?” said Helen.

Sam glanced up from his book.

“The headteacher wanted to see me.”

Helen raised her eyebrows. “Oh?”

Sam leaned back in his seat. “He’s offered me a job for next year. Well, a permanent job, actually.”

“That’s great, Sam!” said Helen, enthusiastically. She paused when she realised her own enthusiasm far outstripped his. “I mean, that’s good, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, I guess,” he said, doubtfully. “Well, it’s nice to have the choice. It was just… a bit of a surprise. I haven’t really thought about what I’m going to do.”

Which wasn’t completely true: in fact he’d thought of little else. He just couldn’t make a decision.

Helen looked at him shrewdly. “Is there anywhere else you were planning on being?”

He shrugged. “I guess… I’d just assumed I’d be going back… home to London.”

“And back to the classroom?”

“Maybe.”

“But maybe not?” she suggested.

He frowned, his expression thoughtful.

“I’ve been knocking around this idea since I got back from Nagasaki,” he admitted. “It was… really intense there. For the kids, for the teachers: you could see it in their faces, and it got me thinking… in the UK we take kids on field trips to the Somme and Belsen, places like that. So why not further afield? Why not Hiroshima and Nagasaki? The airfare getting here is expensive but it’s not as bad as people think once you’re here – there are cheap places to stay if you know what you’re doing.”

“So you’re thinking – tourguide for schools?” said Helen.

“Yeah, maybe. Escorted tours: Tokyo, Kyoto, too, and then hiking in the summer and skiing in the winter. Yoshi’s parents are planning to go into B&B – well, Yoshi wants to set up that side of the business for English tourists, so…”

“And you could use your contacts with schools in the UK?”

Sam smiled. “It would certainly be interesting to see the gang from Kidbrooke out here! I don’t know, there might be language grants available, and I’ve read that the Japanese government is keen to foster inter-school relations… Paul said he’d like to be involved – get something set up at Dartmouth when he’s there.”

Helen raised her eyebrows. “I’m impressed: you’ve really thought this through.”

“Not that much,” Sam shook his head, “but Mr Tanaka’s offer has made things – more definite. If I want to go freelance I’ll have to be prepared to be broke…” he smiled, “even more broke, for a while. And Tokyo isn’t the cheapest city. I don’t know, Helen. I thought getting away this weekend might help me focus a bit.”

She patted his knee. “I’m sure you’ll make the right decision. And you’re young enough to take a chance – sometimes I forget how young you are. You’re so much more mature than Yoshi and Paul.” She paused then smiled. “Alright, I won’t embarrass you anymore!”

Helen went back to staring out of the window as the afternoon sky faded to night. Sam went back to his book, but couldn’t concentrate anymore. There was one thing he hadn’t mentioned to Helen: when he’d had the idea about tours to Nagasaki: he’d imagined doing them with Tara. It had seemed possible at the time: contacts in the US, UK and Australia. Not now, of course. Even so, it was an intriguing idea.

The plane started to make its slow descent to Sapporo, the city’s lights bright once they were beneath the cloud cover. The pilot informed them that there had been fresh snow that day, and more was forecast for the weekend. Paul hooted happily in the seat behind, high-fiving an exuberant Yoshi.

They had a scramble to make their connecting bus but soon they were travelling towards the hills, climbing higher through snowy fields and trees that looked as if they’d been hung with crystals. The black of the tarmac road was barely visible under a new dusting of snow, and they passed two gritters as they neared Furano.

Yumi was waiting for them at the bus depot, almost unrecognisable under muffled layers, bulky fleece and hat.

Yoshi gallantly offered Helen the front seat and Sam gratefully wedged himself in the back. He preferred not being able to see much whilst Yumi drove and chattered away, tyres sliding recklessly across both sides of the carriageway. He couldn’t help noticing that Helen’s lips looked a little white in the rear view mirror, but it could have just been from the faint light of the instrument panel.

Mrs Sato was standing on the porch looking anxious as they drove up. Yoshi introduced Helen and Paul, who both bowed formally, but when she saw Sam she went into paroxysms of delight, pulling his head down to kiss him again and again, as if he were some long lost son.

“The Sam effect,” said Helen, laughing.

Paul rolled his eyes. “I just don’t get women!”

“No, love,” said Helen, smiling, “you don’t.”

Mrs Sato ushered them in to greet Mr Sato, who was standing rather on ceremony in the living room. But when Helen presented him with a bottle of Koshu aged sake and calendar of Wales, he beamed.