Jack looked at Laura and thought, Sayomi, you are going to pay for that one.

Minutes later they were led to another room through another double set of sliding rice-paper doors. The room was large and spacious, with a large, rectangular black marble table in the middle, which was low to the floor. The table was prepared with six table settings placed upon bamboo-thatched mats. A variety of multicoloured silk cushions scattered around the table on the floor substituted as chairs.

Jack was glad to see that a rectangular pit under the table had been made to allow room to put in his legs so that in effect, although he was sitting on the floor it was like sitting on a bench once he put his feet under the table. The Japanese were raised since children to sit on the floor with their legs tucked under them while resting their body on their ankles. Most Westerners found the practice too uncomfortable.

They were each directed to a seat, with Jack, Laura, and Lee on one side opposite Fukushima, Sayomi, and Da Khlot on the other. Two attendants stood quietly at the door while servants appeared, first with hot towels for everyone at the table to wash their hands.

Laura was pleased to see that her setting lacked chopsticks and had been replaced by a fork and tablespoon.

“Thai style, as you prefer,” winked Lee.

Laura smiled, but found the knowledge of how close they had been observed a little unnerving.

Their courses consisted of several entrees, including miso soup, rice with prawns, crab cakes, noodles, sea urchin, and tofu dishes. Later, bowls of ice cream were brought, along with a bowl of mandarin oranges, apples, and bananas for everyone to share.

A cultural tradition that Jack and Laura each discovered was that you did not fill your own glass of refreshment. To show respect for each other, it was the responsibility of the person you were dining with to fill your glass for you. They soon realized that when they had enough sake, they had to leave their glasses half full. Any less than that invited someone to replenish it.

Despite leaving the sea urchin on her plate, Laura complimented Fukushima on the fine cuisine.

“Thank you,” he replied. “Dining to me is a delight that I feel should enrich one’s life and not merely be something one does to survive. In Osaka, I own, amongst other things, a catering business that employs one of Japan’s top chefs. I am pleased that you have enjoyed the meal.”

Jack glanced around the room. Across from him, behind Fukushima, were the double set of doors and rice-paper wall, where he could see the shadows of the servants come and go as they entered and left the room. Beside and behind him, two more rice-paper walls enclosed the room, while the wall at the far end of the room was made of wood, painted a flat black. There, a potted bonsai tree was in each corner, but a focal point on the black wall was a rack containing two samurai swords, both in bamboo scabbards.

“They are my prized possessions,” said Fukushima, realizing what Jack was looking at. “I will show you one of them. Please, remain seated.”

Fukushima brought one samurai sword over and held it for Jack and Laura to see more closely. On the scabbard was an intricately carved design of a dragon with its tail wrapped around the scabbard while its mouth breathed fire toward the sword handle.

“Note the craftsmanship on the tsuba,” said Fukushima, pointing to the hand guard between the handle and the blade. The flat, donut-shaped metal guard consisted of an open design of a miniature samurai soldier in combat with a dragon. “It was made during the Edo period, likely in the early 1800s, by a master swordsmith named Suishinshi Masahide.”

Fukushima drew the sword from the scabbard and pointed to some Japanese symbols on the blade and proudly said, “Here is his name, chiselled into the blade.”

“Exquisite,” commented Jack.

“You may remove it from the scabbard and hold it, if you like,” offered Fukushima.

Jack stood and slowly removed the sword while Fukushima held the scabbard. Jack noticed that both attendants, Da Khlot, and Sayomi quickly came around to his side of the table.

“It is held with both hands,” said Fukushima, as Jack held the sword awkwardly, away from his body.

“I have never held a sword,” said Jack, honestly. “I’m afraid my knowledge is limited to what I have seen in Hollywood movies.”

“There are several different styles of sword fighting,” said Fukushima. “The type I engage in is called kenjutsu. Unlike other types, such as iaijutsu, where the sword starts in the scabbard and incorporates the speed of the draw to defend oneself, kenjutsu is different. After the formal bow to show respect, you retrieve your sword and start the challenge with the sword already in your hand. The emphasis is more on attacking, as well as defence.”

“I’m afraid I prefer a rifle or a shotgun,” said Jack.

Fukushima laughed and said, “So little honour in using a gun, but I know your Western culture reflects that unfortunate trait.”

“And I understand your culture finds honour in falling on your sword,” said Jack. “What is it called? Hara-kiri? We call it suicide.”

“Hara-kiri is more of a slang expression,” replied Fukushima. “The proper term is seppuku. It is called oibara if it is performed because of the death of one’s master.”

“People would kill themselves because their boss died?” asked Jack.

“Loyalty is admired and respected.” Fukushima shrugged. “Either way, the ritual involves plunging the samurai sword into the left side of your abdomen and slicing through to the right side.”

“Oh, gross!” said Laura.

“Imagine the degree of honour one must have to perform such a ritual,” said Fukushima. “Historically, the samurai were renowned for their code of honour. The true samurai may be gone, but their legacy of honour and loyalty is very much a part of our culture.”

“I also believe in honour,” replied Jack. “A man’s word is extremely important to me, as well, but I must confess, I do not believe I would ever have the courage, or desire, to perform such an act.”

Fukushima smiled and said, “By that admission, it does show that you are honest. I believe that few Japanese people would also complete such a ritual. It would take tremendous courage.”

Or a complete lack of respect for your own life … “Please, I realize it is valuable … also very sharp,” said Jack, as he dangled the weapon with his fingers on the handle while gingerly passing it back to Fukushima.

“It is very sharp,” said Fukushima, while returning to the far end of the room, where he replaced the scabbard in the rack, but held the sword with both hands. “Khot-san! Lee-san! Demonstrate for our guests!”

Da Khlot and Lee each snatched an apple from the table and threw them simultaneously at Fukushima, who severed both apples in one single swoop of the sword. His speed, agility, and hand-eye coordination was nothing short of phenomenal.

“Holy Christ,” Jack muttered to himself. By Laura’s open mouth and wide eyes, he knew she was also stunned by the speed and skill of what they had just witnessed.

Lee turned to Jack and Laura and said, “Now you see why I told you he is a master in kenjutsu.”

Jack watched as a young man who had been serving them food quickly approached Fukushima and bowed with his hands held before him. Fukushima gave him the sword and the servant bowed again and left the room to clean it. Not a word had been spoken to the servant. There was little doubt Fukushima had performed the demonstration many times before.

After lunch, Fukushima said, “Come, I will show you what other pleasures you may enjoy while you are my guests.”

Next to the banquet room there was a steam room, with wide, cedar planks making up the walls, floor, and ceiling, along with a cedar bench. Opposite that was another door which led to the outside and a private patio used to cool down, if one should desire.