Chapter 20

“Oh God. I don’t wanna be responsible,” I said.

And, of course, the Captain thought I was talking to him. I’m sure he never expected I was talking to the voices in my head.

“Responsible for what?” He asked. He reached in the fridge and swiped a soda.

“I’m a teenager, I wanna have fun, sneak a beer now and then, chase girls ... OW! ... Zo ... that was a figure of speech.”

“So long as it’s MY figure you’re chasing...” Zoe said.

The Captain had a mind altering experience - blew - SevenUp out his nose. Water is so much safer ... doesn’t have all that carbonation. After he quit sneezing and blowing he said, “OW!”

And Zo said, “I didn’t touch you ... EWW!”

You guys quit that, I thought.

<Nuhuh.>

Gathering my ducks, smoothing their feathers and lining them up, I said, “How do we meet Mr. Nakamura?”

“Nakamura? Nakamura ... oh. The mooring. We need to go to the gym. He teaches self-defense classes.”

LIGHTBULB MOMENT

Since we were tied up to the MWR pier, it was a simple walk to the Gym. It’s called, officially, the Fleet Fitness Center and it’s just around two corners.

Parts of the base decorative pedestrian walkways are tan brick and other walkways are cement colored. Leaving the boat we walked through the Travel Center and turned left on the fancy brick walk behind the leased shops building next to the MWR building then left again on the normal concrete walk, past the two little shelters ... which would have made a much better place to tie up the Sailbait but were farther away from the Command building ... and took the forty five right and that led us directly to the Gym.

After the hassle of gaining admission to the building, our guide said, “Remind me to stop by the office and have ID’s made for you.”

Something told me we wouldn’t be seeing the Captain again. We had him for today and that would be it.

Mr. Nakamura had an office in the Fitness Center. That was surprising. While we waited for him to finish with his last class ... this one was all teen girls ... we watched through the office windows as girls tossed each other hither and yon and generally looked and acted like movie ninjas out slaughtering the populace.

Mr. Nakamura clapped his hands. Everyone stopped killing each other and decorum reigned. They all bowed to him and he bowed back. Instant normal teen chatter ... in English.

“Captain.”

“Mr. Nakamura.”

“Are these them?”

“Yes.”

He dismissed the Captain. I had a feeling that dismissal was a regular condition between the pair. Of course, the coming discussion was in Japanese.

‘Maitsuki 1-nichi ni getsugaku 39, 509. 28-En no shiharai. Okane ga arimasu ka?’ “39,509.28¥ a month payable in yen on the first of every month. You have the money?”

“Can I just...” I ground to a halt.

“May,” he said, “Not can ... may.”

“Yes sensei. May I pay by the year?”

“472,395.36¥? You have that?”

“Yes sensei.”

“With you?”

“On the boat, but yes sensei.”

“Now?”

“In US dollars.”

“Let us go to this boat of yours. I will take such a sum in dollars. Then I will direct you to my mooring.” He paused, “Why are you here?”

“I wish to learn honor and rightness.”

“I will teach. Your Japanese is atrocious.”

“How much?”

“You will join my regular American class.” He gave us such a look. “ALL of you.”

“Shit! There goes my shopping.” That was from Zoe.