by Drew Lindsay
At 3 minutes past noon, Ben Hood climbed old wooden stairs onto the shady verandah of a 1940’s colonial style home in the leafy suburb of Eastwood, near Sydney. A white cat stretched out on a window ledge to the right of the huge knotted pine front door.
Wind chimes tinkled softly. Japanese symbols carved in black timber hung from the brick walls. Ben used to know what each of them meant but it was a long time since he had visited Akira Misaki’s home. He couldn’t remember what they meant any more.
Ben pushed the button beside the door and then settled in for a wait. He knew Aka and his household moved at a pace less hurried than the average Australian suburban family. A full minute later the huge timber door swung open slowly and a stunningly beautiful and extremely petite Japanese girl stood before him. He assumed it was a child but as she spoke and he had time to take in her body shape and facial features, he realised it was a woman.
‘You are Ben?’
‘Yes.’
‘Mr. Misaki is expecting you sir.’ She stood aside and Ben entered the cool, darkened foyer of the home. Familiar incense aromas instantly accosted his senses. He automatically took off his shoes and placed them in a rack with others neatly lined up, as he had done so many times in the past. The woman indicated slippers nearby with a slender hand. Ben put them on and followed the tiny woman down a darkened hallway into a huge open kitchen. Each wall was tiled from ceiling to floor, including the floor, in white porcelain. The cupboards and benches were dark walnut and the kitchen accessories were stainless steel.
Akira Misaki entered the room from a doorway opposite. Ben hadn’t seen him in over 2 years but the Korean hadn’t changed. He was now in his mid 60’s, totally bald, solid build and looked extremely fit. He was shorter than Ben by a bare inch. His hands and knuckles were huge and battle scarred. The two men approached each other. Akira nodded slightly to Ben but kept his dark brown eyes fixed on him. ‘Uh suh oh seh yoh.’ (Welcome)
Ben bowed deeply as a sign of respect and looked downward. ‘Ahn nyoung ha seh yoh.’ (Formal greeting)
‘You look like shit.’
Ben straightened up. ‘You haven’t changed Aka.’
‘I work out. What the hell have you been doing?’
‘I don’t get time to work out. Cop work is busy stuff. The streets are a mess.’
‘That’s because you treat them with kid gloves.’
‘I don’t.’
Akira held out his right hand to Ben and the two men shook hands firmly. Ben knew that his friend could crush every bone in his hand should he choose. ‘You shoot too many of them. Should use your hands and feet more like I taught you.’
‘You can’t do that all the time. These bastards carry guns.’
‘And the guy with the machete I read about?’
‘I’m not quick enough anymore. I don’t like machetes. Too long and too sharp.’
‘Not for me.’
‘You practice in your sleep Aka.’
‘No, I relax in my sleep. I’m at peace.’
‘Good for you.’
‘You want some green tea?’
‘I hate that shit. You know that.’
‘Good, then we’ll have some. Bell…!’
The tiny Japanese woman glided into the room and stood beside Akira.
‘I’d like you to meet Bell. Her full name in Japanese is Bluebell but we like to keep it short. Bell, this is Ben. You have heard me speak of him.’
Bell bowed and Ben automatically bowed as well. ‘Nice to meet you,’ said Ben.
‘And you. I’ll bring green tea. You two run along.’
Akira raised an eyebrow in Ben’s direction and beckoned him to follow. The two walked through another short corridor and out onto a large sunlit patio. Akira waved Ben towards a padded chair and both sat opposite each other with a rough hewn handmade timber bench between them.
‘Fay?’
‘Don’t ask. It’s in the final stage of collapse.’
‘Too bad.’
‘Yeah, and the Japanese lady?’
‘I’m multicultural.’
‘I’ll say. Last time I was here you were with a Pom and you’d just kicked out an American.’
‘I met Bell in America on the last fight tour.’
‘You win?’
Akira frowned and fixed his eyes on Ben.
‘Sorry, dumb question.’
‘OK, what do you want?’
‘I need to get back into some sort of shape. I’ve been drinking too much and not exercising and I feel like shit.’
‘Well that’s obvious, but what do you intend to do with any level of fitness I can help you achieve?’
‘What sort of a question is that?’
‘Do you want to get fit just to get fit?’
‘Uh Oh….I feel a lecture coming on.’
‘I teach a special kind of Karate Mr. Hood and it’s not just about breaking noses.’
‘I know that.’
‘Look at you, all bunched up and tense. Everything I taught you is down the drain. Where’s the inner calming strength you used to have?’
‘I’m not into that Aka. You meditate for hours. I couldn’t do that to save my life.’
‘Then you may not be able to save your life one day.’
Bell moved silently to the bench and laid down a tray with a white china teapot and two small bowls. She poured the tea, set down the pot and left the room without a word.
‘You want a biscuit?’
Ben looked at his friend and burst out laughing. ‘You don’t eat biscuits.’
‘You’re the one who’s let things go.’
Ben set the small white bowl down on the bench and sat back. ‘OK, how do we start and what do you charge these days?’
Akira sipped slowly at his green tea with his eyes focused on Ben. ‘You still got your outfit?’
Ben shook his head. ‘Fay threw it out. She said I was never home because I was over here dancing around with you and your Karate mates.’
Akira smiled. ‘I’ll get you another one…..with a white belt.’
‘Oh come on. You know I’m much better than that.’
‘We’ll see in time.’ Akira sipped his tea again. He placed the bowl on the timber bench, rose from the chair and walked to a wall cupboard near the door. He returned with a small grey box in his hand and resumed his chair. Considering the size of his fingers, he nimbly opened the box and took out a tiny, black, rectangular device with a belt clip. He opened the front of the device and tapped at it for some seconds. He snapped the lid closed and handed it across to Ben.
‘Step meter?’
‘Yep.’
‘I got heaps of them, mostly from you.’
‘Not like this one.’
‘What’s it cost?’
‘Wrong question.’
‘OK, what’s it do?’
‘Tells me the truth.’
‘Like?’
‘I didn’t need electronics to tell me if students sat at home and shook these things up and down. That showed in your performance. Now I don’t need to look at your performance. This gizmo tells me exactly how the steps were done. Walking, running, going up stairs, going down stairs, shaking the damn thing up and down by hand. You can’t re-set it. Only I do that. You try to touch anything and I’ll know and you fail and you’re out.’
‘Bloody hell.’
‘See what I’m dealing with these days? Can’t trust anyone.’
‘What’s the goal and timeframe?’
‘I’ve had to up it a bit. The students were getting lazy. Now it’s 10 k’s a day for 3 weeks. You want that in miles?’
’10 k’s! That’s from here to Sydney!’
‘ You got anything better to do just now?’
‘3 weeks!.’
‘Then we focus again….and meditate.’
‘Bloody hell.’
‘And then we look at your goals.’
Ben turned the step
meter over in his hands and slowly clipped it to his belt. ‘I’ve kind of run out of goals.’
‘We’ll see my friend. See you in 3 weeks.’ Akira rose once again. The meeting was over.
“****”
Chapter Eight