Chapter 63: Land of the Rising Sun, Part IX

July 11, 1994, Oguni, Yamagata Prefecture, Japan

“«Ohayō gozaimas» (“good morning”), Sakurako-chan,” I said when she woke up on Monday morning.

She smiled, lifted her head, and looked intently into my eyes.

“I invite you to stay with me as much as you wish,” I continued, “and as much as your grandmother will allow.”

“I will ask,” she said. “But we must also not dishonor Grandfather by being rude or disrespectful.”

“I understand. Outside this room, we are simply the best of friends.”

“How one behaves in the bedroom is very different from how one behaves in public.”

“Yes, of course. May I ask you something?”

She smiled, “You are in a position to ask anything without permission! Remember, it is about social status, family status, and rank.”

“If I spent a lifetime here, I’m not sure I could learn everything. I’d have so much to unlearn that it would interfere.”

“Perhaps so. That is true about Robert-san and he has been here a long time. What is your question?”

“You seemed to be struggling against what your body wanted last night.”

She nodded, “I wished to please you, and did not wish to let those feelings take control so that I forgot my duty.”

I was tempted to tell her to forget her sense of duty, but that would be crass in the extreme. I needed another way.

“Sakurako-chan, I invite you to allow that to happen. You have my permission. I want you to do it. It would please me greatly.”

“Are you sure, Steve-chan? I wish to please you as much as possible.”

I nodded, “You do, and you will; and I promise you will give me great pleasure by experiencing your own pleasure to the fullest.”

“OK,” she said softly, though I wasn’t sure she meant it. “I need to go make your breakfast, and you need to exercise and run!”

I kissed her nose, which, for some reason, seemed to be the right thing to do. She giggled, got up from the futon, and retrieved her clothes. She slipped out the door as I put on my sweat pants and long-sleeved t-shirt. I did my warm-up exercises, then practiced my kata. Before I left for my run, I checked the futon, washed a small stain with warm water, and hung them on the line. I made a mental note to ask Sakurako about that when she returned with breakfast.

As I jogged down the drive to the main road, I suppressed a chuckle. Mitsuo, Hikaru, and Katsu were standing at the end of the driveway in exercise clothes. I greeted them and they fell in with me for my morning run. I was sure now that sometime in the next nine days, I needed a private conversation with Sensei Hiro, albeit with a translator present, to ask him to restore Mitsuo to his position after some suitable amount of time had passed. I didn’t know if Japanese culture allowed for such a thing, but I was going to try.

There wasn’t any conversation, partly because we were running, but partly because only Hikaru spoke any English, and while his English was limited, my Japanese was far worse. They kept pace with me over the entire distance, and when we returned to the gate of the compound, they said ‘goodbye’ in Japanese and got into a small Honda and drove off. I walked the garden for a few minutes to cool down, then went into the cottage to find Sakurako waiting for me with our breakfast.

“Please bathe,” she smiled.

I chuckled softly thinking I was sure I smelled from the sweat I’d worked up. No longer concerned about embarrassing my intimate friend, I simply stripped off my sweaty clothes and left them by the door. I walked to the bathroom, used the shower, dried off and walked about out naked to get my clothing from the cabinet. I dressed and sat down across from Sakurako, who was wearing her «sērā fuku» school uniform.

“«Itadakimasu»,” I said, and we began eating.

“I saw the students waiting for you from the kitchen,” she said.

“I was very pleased, and I think your grandfather will be as well. I’m going to ask him to restore Mitsuo to his rightful position after a suitable period of penance.”

“Penance?”

“In this case, it means a light punishment and time to think about what he did wrong. Do you think your grandfather will restore him?”

“Normally, he would not. But he respects you greatly. He might do it if you ask, but ask only once, and do not expect an answer. If he says «はい» (hai), this does not mean he is agreeing to do it.”

I smiled, “That one I know. He said that to you to acknowledge your request, but it was not an agreement to it.”

“You learn quickly, Steve-chan!”

“I do my best,” I said. “Before I forget, there was a small stain on the futon. I washed it with warm water and put it on the line.”

“I will check it when I come home from school.”

We finished our breakfast, drank our tea, and when we finished, she gathered everything to take back to the kitchen. I gathered my things and went to the bench, but waited until I saw her walk down the driveway to the waiting car which would take her to the train which would take her to school. It reminded me of when I lived in Sweden, and I walked, took the bus, and finally a «spårvagn» to get to Schillerska. It was a far cry from the big yellow school bus!

Later that morning, after our training session, I asked Sensei Robert to ask Sensei Hiro if I would be permitted to ask a question in private. My request was granted and when the other students had left, I bowed deeply.

“«Shihan«, I wish to humbly ask you to consider restoring Mitsuo to his rightful place.”

Sensei Robert’s eyes grew wide, but he translated what I said. The room grew deathly silent, and other than our soft breathing, not a sound reached my ears. I waited for what seemed like an eternity, before Sensei Hiro finally spoke a soft «はい» (hai).

“He’ll consider your request,” Sensei Robert said to me.

I nodded, bowed deeply, and then left the dojo. Sensei Robert hurried to catch up to me.

“That was a serious breach of protocol,” he said softly.

“Major Powers,” I said, speaking firmly, and using his former military rank, “I may be the son of a retired enlisted man, but I’m going to speak my mind. I am doing my best to act Japanese, but I’m still an American. And so are you. We do NOT fit in here. We are tolerated; sometimes just barely. And that’s fine. It’s their country. I’m going to use our situation to my advantage. I can ask for something that would be shockingly rude for a Japanese to ask and get away with it because I’m «gaikokujin» and officially don’t know any better. What’s the worst thing he’s going to do? Reprimand me for being rude? I can take it, Major. So he chews me out? I’ve been chewed out before. And the promotion? If it comes, it comes. If it does not, it does not.”

Sensei Robert laughed, “Damn, Steve! Where did this come from?”

I chuckled, “I’m a complex man with many facets, Major. I only show the necessary ones to the necessary people. I’m a hard-nosed negotiator, and can be a real prick when necessary. If someone messes with me, I put an end to it as I did with Mitsuo and my uppercut to his nuts. Did you ever see The Untouchables?”

Sensei Robert nodded, “And I know the quote you’re going for - They pull a knife, you pull a gun. He sends one of yours to the hospital, you send one of his to the morgue. That’s the Chicago way!“

“And I am from Chicago!” I grinned. “That said, every morning at home, I spend twenty minutes or so cuddling my eldest daughter while I read the newspaper.”

“An iron fist in a velvet glove?”

“Something like that. Even if Sensei Hiro turns me down, and I’d say based on the steely visage and the death stare, he’s going to do just that, he’ll at least think about it. In the end, tradition and culture will probably be the master trumps, but I did MY part to restore the natural order of things which I messed up.”

“I find it odd that you blame yourself.”

“Robert Sensei,” I said, deliberately using the proper Japanese form, “We’re visitors here in a culture that is far older than the United States. Don’t you think we should cut them just a bit of slack?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Well, as I said, look at it from those young men’s perspective and think about what I represent. And what TRULY offended them. It wasn’t me, it was Hiro «Shihan» putting me in a position of authority over them. And look at the end result. They didn’t respect this,” I said holding up the end of my belt with the three white stripes, “and they sure as heck didn’t respect me. But now they do. Those three young men met me at the drive and ran WITH me this morning, in step, following at my pace, with near-military precision.”

“I’ll be damned,” he said.

“Yeah, all of us are, to hear my evangelical Christian friends or my mom tell it, but that’s a different problem for another day.”

He laughed, “That is one thing I do not miss about living in the States. At least here the Christians are relatively docile. Speaking of which, there’s a really nice Russian Orthodox cathedral in Tokyo you should visit should you ever have the chance.”

“Are you going to tell Sensei Hiro about those men?”

He nodded, “Somebody needs to. I guess that somebody is me. I expect I’ll get an earful about you.”

“Ever get dressed down by a general, Major?” I grinned.

“Don’t remind me! Go get cleaned up for lunch!”

I was tempted to salute, but I wasn’t part of that fraternity, so I extended my hand, which he shook warmly. I went back to my room and quickly showered and dressed for lunch. Nothing was said, which didn’t surprise me. After lunch, I did my chores, and then led the afternoon class. Once again nothing was said, and I worked with the lower belts with Hiroshi’s assistance in translating my requests and questions from the students.

Our usual dinner and drinks passed without incident, and I joined Sensei Hiro, Sensei Robert, Hiroshi, Mitsuo, and Hideki in the Japanese bath. I was surprised when the topic was baseball, but not just any baseball, but Major League Baseball. As usual, Hiroshi and Sensei Robert took turns translating.

“They are going to set a strike deadline, soon,” Hideki said. “And I think they do not resolve it to save the end of the season and the World Series.”

“Are they still arguing about the salary cap and revenue sharing?” I asked.

“Yes. The newspaper says the players have refused any compromise, and the owners are just as stubborn.”

“Baseball has some serious imbalances,” I said. “A team like the Yankees or Dodgers has so much more revenue, they can buy all the best players and pay more than a team in Kansas City, or even Cincinnati.”

“Big Red Machine!” Mitsuo said in English. “Pete Rose. Johnny Bench.”

“I grew up in Cincinnati,” I said. “I lived there when they had that great team.”

“Are you still a Reds fan?”

“Yes, but I prefer ice hockey to baseball now. We do try to go to a baseball game or two each year, but if they cancel the World Series, I will probably never watch baseball again.”

“You would be angry?” Hiroshi asked.

“That a bunch of billionaires and a bunch of multi-millionaires can’t figure out how to properly divide $5 billion amongst themselves? If they can’t, they should just give it to us! I’m sure the six of us could find an equitable way to divide it so we were all happy!”

The others laughed and nodded once Sensei Robert translated what I said.

“The cap you wear when you run, is that a hockey team?” Mitsuo asked.

“Yes. The Pittsburgh Penguins. They won the Stanley Cup, that’s the championship, two years in a row, in 1991 and 1992. When I leave, you may have the cap if you wish.”

“I would be honored,” he replied with a smile.

He smiled, but I got another death stare from Sensei Hiro, and realized I’d just committed a breach of etiquette.

“Hiro Sensei,” I said softly. “Forgive my failure to understand the ways of Japan. I apologize if I have offended you.”

He was silent for a moment.

“No, it is I who should remember that you have a different culture, one that deserves the same respect you give ours.”

“Our cultures are very, very different,” I said. “But we can learn from each other. I have learned much here that I will take home and use to help me guide my friends and family to be better people. There is much wisdom to be learned in Japan, and I only regret my situation does not permit me to stay longer and study with you. I am grateful for all the lessons and wisdom that I have received here. I would hope, though, that we can continue to find common ground in the study of karate, and the practice of the principles of Shōtōkan. I long for peace, friendship, and happiness, and that each of us will have health, riches, and a long life.”

Hiroshi smiled knowingly, as I had just quoted the hanging scrolls his sister had created.

“Well said, Steve-san,” Sensei Hiro said. “That is truly the spirit of karate.”

There was general agreement by nods, and a short time later, we left the tub and I went back to my room to find Sakurako waiting for me. I did a double-take and stopped when I stepped into the room.

“A «furisode»? But you aren’t twenty!”

She smiled, “But I am a woman now! I will only wear it for you, so as not to disrespect Grandfather. This is Grandmother’s kimono from when she was fifteen after she met Grandfather.”

It was beautiful red silk with intricate floral designs, and was clearly intended for a woman younger than twenty.

“I think I get the picture,” I said with a smile.

“Yes; she needed one early. But, this will not end the same way.”

“No, it won’t. You need a Japanese husband. That is certain. Even if I were available, I would not be a good match for you for many reasons.”

“I know; but for a few days, at least, I can pretend what it would be like!”

I walked over and pulled her against me, “Tonight, I want you to let yourself go, completely. Enjoy your pleasure fully and do not hold back.”

“And that will please you?”

“Yes, it will.”

“Then I will do it.”

July 16, 1994, Oguni, Yamagata Prefecture, Japan

The previous week had been wonderful, with my regular routine filling the days, and passion filling the nights. Sakurako had learned to let herself go and had been rewarded with intense orgasms that led her to demand, in her indirect way, successive couplings each night. She’d insisted I teach her to please me. I’d done so, and she rewarded me with, in addition to lovemaking, intense oral pleasure, resulting in her happily swallowing my essence, as Anala had once called it.

“What do you have planned for tomorrow?” I asked, as we ate breakfast together.

“You know how you hold me when we sleep? Would you do that while we sit and talk?”

“Naked?” I grinned.

She giggled, “Do not be rude! I meant on the pillows! Not the bed!”

During the week, she had been adamant that our lovemaking occur on the futon, and would only allow me to kiss her on the nose anywhere else in the room. I found it amusing, but let her determine what she felt was right and wrong, pushing her only to experience as much pleasure as she could. And as a now extremely horny fourteen-year-old, she was no longer resisting her own desires - so long as we were on the futon.