The New Samurai

by Jane Harvey-Berrick

  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.

  The evening meal was a riotous affair as the sake made its rounds, accompanied by Mrs Sato’s excellent cooking. Mr Sato, Yoshi and Paul were red-faced and more than merry, and Sam wasn’t sure how good his balance would be when he finally stood up. Eventually Mrs Sato insisted that it was time for bed and Yumi escorted Helen upstairs to Yoshi’s room.

  “We will sleep in barn, Sam-san, Paul-san,” he explained happily. “Is like camping.”

  While they had been eating, the snow had frozen into crisp frosting and the air was needle sharp. They crunched across the farmyard, the noise loud in the still night, and Yoshi pulled back the large door to the nearest barn.

  It was chilly inside but he lit a small brazier and they sat on bales of straw, their sleeping bags pulled around them, mesmerised by the orange flames.

  “Tomorrow we ski Furano,” said Yoshi. “Is no off piste here but maybe next day we go further, if you like?”

  “Sure, Yoshi, sounds good, buddy,” said Paul. “Man, I haven’t been boarding for two years. Hope the ole mojo is still working. What about you, Sam?”

  Sam shook his head. “Nope, I haven’t skied for a while either. Thanks for inviting us, Yoshi. It’s really good of your parents to put us all up.”

  “Is my pleasure,” said Yoshi, happily. “We go wild like gorillas tomorrow, yes?”

  Paul laughed. “This is gonna be interesting!”

  In the morning, they had some trouble sliding back the barn door because of all the snow that had drifted against it in the night. At least a foot of snow was freshly fallen, softening the curves and lines of the farmhouse.

  “How we gonna get anywhere in this?” muttered Paul.

  “Is no problem, Paul-san,” said Yoshi. “We take big cat.”

  “Huh?”

  “I think he means snow-cat,” said Sam. “I saw it in the end barn last time I was here.”

  “Cool!” said Paul, an expression of childish glee on his face.

  Unfortunately it took over half an hour to dig out the snow-cat, by which time the three of them were sweating freely, despite the chill of the morning.

  Helen came out to supervise and laughed out loud as Paul pointed her towards a shovel.

  “I’d rather see you sweat, Paul, love,” she chuckled, ignoring his incoherent reply.

  Mrs Sato sent them out to the ski slopes full of spicy noodles and steamed fish. Yoshi drove the snow-cat and, to his relief, Yumi pointedly ignored Sam, tucking herself in next to a beaming Paul.

  “Your chariot, my lady,” Sam said to Helen, helping her climb in next to Yoshi.

  The snow-cat growled as Yoshi started the engine, crawling up the bank of snow next to the barn and slithering across the icy farmyard. But soon they were barrelling down the road into Furano, Yoshi cheering every time the little vehicle bucked. Sam was glad the snow-cat had off-road harnesses otherwise Helen was in danger of being bounced out completely. She hung onto his arm like grim death, her teeth gritted.

  She was visibly relieved when Yoshi cut the engine outside the ski-hire shop. Miho was waiting for them and smiled shyly when she saw Yoshi.

  Helen elbowed Sam in the ribs. “Oh, young love!”

  “Given half a chance,” whispered Sam. But his smile quickly faded.

  Then Yoshi saw Isamu and Masao and gave a shout of delight. He introduced his friends to Paul and Helen, and Sam shook hands.

  Only the three gaijin needed to hire equipment and Helen was the only one who was skiing instead of snowboarding.

  They trudged up to the ski-lift, Helen struggling with her inflexible boots.

  “I’m never going to make it to the slopes, let alone ski down the damn things,” she puffed, her face red. “These are more like foot coffins than boots!”

  “Try undoing the top two buckles,” advised Sam. “It’ll make it easier to walk: just don’t forget to do them up again when you clip your skis on.”

  He tucked her skis and poles under his arm with his own snowboard and took her hand, towing her up the snowy road.

  A line was already forming for the first lift that went past the nursery slopes, leading to a gondola that took the serious skiers higher up the mountain.

  “You want me to come with you, Helen?” said Sam, noticing she looked a little apprehensive.

  “No, I’ll be fine,” said Helen, firmly. “You go and enjoy yourself with the others. See you at lunchtime.”

  He watched her stumble across the snow, nearly tripping over her ski poles and swinging her skis dangerously over her shoulder. Sam winced as she nearly took out a family party, who graciously apologised for being in her way. Sam could hear Helen’s voice rising with embarrassment. Quietly he left her to it and followed the others.

  The gondola was nearly full, crowded with young Japanese snowboarders. It never occurred to them that Paul and Sam might speak their language, because they joked dismissively about the gaijin. Yoshi looked upset but Sam shook his head slightly; there was no point causing trouble for the sake of scoring points.

  When they reached the top of the mountain Sam felt a thrill of anticipation run through him. There was something energising about being so high up, breathing in the clean, crisp air, and seeing the sun glinting across the icy planes.

  “Wow!” said Paul. “What a view!”

  Furano was just a scattering of buildings in the valley far below, like a child’s idea of a winter village.

  “Now we ski!” crowed Yoshi happily.

  Sam tightened the laces on his boots and locked himself onto the wide snowboard. Immediately he felt it begin to slide and a grin lit up his face. He
pulled his goggles down and followed the others, Yoshi in the lead, snaking slowly down the mountain.

  The slope was thick with fresh powder, and Sam concentrated on keeping his toes up before he began to feel comfortable being back on a board. He started going faster, cutting fewer curves, swinging out wide across the slope and then faster again until he was racing behind Yoshi.

  Yoshi flashed him a happy smile and picked up the pace, leading them through a tangle of trees and taking in a couple of small jumps.

  “Yeeha!” yelled Paul, grabbing the rail as he caught some air.

  Isamu shouted something, too, looking more animated than Sam had ever seen him. Not to be outdone, Yumi and Miho sped up, going everywhere that Yoshi led.

  The purity of the air was intoxicating and the morning sped past. By lunchtime they were all ravenously hungry. They’d arranged to meet Helen at an izakaya further down the mountain. They swept in, sliding to a halt by the picnic tables, Paul sending a shower of icy snow over everyone. Yumi and Miho shrieked and Sam laughed as he shook the diamond dust from his hair.

  “Well, hey! I wondered if I’d ever see you again.”

  A tall, dark-haired woman was grinning at Sam.

  His memory creaked into action. “Oh, hi!” Where had he seen her? “Er, the airport… Heathrow, right?” A sudden flash. “Gerda, isn’t it?”

  “You remembered!” she said, still smiling. “I’m flattered.”

  Sam realised that his friends were staring at him. He flushed.

  “Er, this is Gerda. We met at the airport on the way out, back in April.”

  He gave their names, then introduced Gerda to Isamu, Masao, Miho and Yumi in fluent Japanese.

  “Wow!” said Gerda, clearly impressed. “You speak Japanese really well. But I don’t think you knew any when you came out here?”

  “No, I’ve been taking lessons,” he said, feeling slightly awkward. “Er… are you here with your sister?”

  “Yes, she’s around here somewhere. Oh, there you are.”

  Gretchen was wearing a figure-hugging ski suit with a black helmet clutched under one arm. Masao’s eyes nearly fell out as he took in the second of the stunning twins.