Chapter Four
John opened his eyes and stared at the stucco ceiling above Mara's bed. He could feel Mara pressed against his shoulder and rolled over, wrapping his arm around her waist and pulling her close. He was sure that Mara was awake as well. He nuzzled her neck and she stirred, shifting her body and intertwining her legs with his.
"What time is it?" He whispered in her ear.
"It's still early," she replied. "Dad usually gets home around five and goes right to bed. If you do it quietly you should be able to make it back to your room without him hearing you."
"But I don't want to leave," said John smiling. "Why can't we just tell him the truth? He's a man just like I am, he'll understand."
Mara rolled over and faced John. She gave him a serious look to add emphasis to her words.
"Because John, he's my father. I know him better than you and I have a good idea of what his reaction would be if he found out about us. It would be even worse if he was to find us together like this."
John felt like answering that he wasn't afraid of Inoda, but his better judgement told him that this was not time to argue about such things. There would be plenty of time later to plan how they were going to tell her father.
John kissed her on the forehead and rose from the bed. He glanced at the clock and saw that it was just after seven am. If Mara was right then Inoda would be in his bed fast asleep, John would sneak back to his room and Inoda would never know. It was all he could do at the moment, but he didn't like the idea of repeating this every night.
John slipped on his pants and socks, throwing his shirt over a shoulder and carrying his shoes in one hand. He looked one last time at Mara who was curled up on her side with her eyes closed. He pictured her naked form beneath the sheets and smiled, there was no need for either of them to say anything.
He slowly pushed the door back and entered the darkened hallway, glancing at the bottom of Inoda's door to see if the light was on. It wasn't, and that meant that Inoda was sound asleep.
John began the slow, agonizing journey to his room, feeling his hand along the wall to avoid bumping into things. He was almost there when he stopped and looked back the way he had came. The kitchen was in the other direction and John realized that he hadn't eaten since yesterday. Of course he had forgotten about all about food when he was with Mara, but now his hunger had returned, telling him that he had to eat or he wouldn't be able to sleep.
He turned around and started for the kitchen, making as wide a detour as possible around Inoda's door. He arrived in the kitchen and looked around. The room was pitch black and he was tempted to turn on the lights, but he was unsure if that would alert Mara's father or not. He decided to leave them off and made his way to the counter, picking up cans of food and holding them close to his face to read the labels. Unfortunately all of the items required preparation and he didn't have the time or patience. It would also have meant washing up any cooking utensils afterward.
John was on the verge of giving up when he remembered a bag of biscuits he had seen Mara put into a cupboard. He opened the small door and reached inside, pulling out a small bag of sweet biscuits, a kind he was very fond of.
He sat down on a chair and ripped the top off the bag, putting his hand in and fishing out a small brown wafer that he plopped into his mouth. The taste was exquisite and he had barely swallowed the first when he dug his hand in the bag and pulled out another.
John continued to stuff his mouth, occasionally slapping his chest to force the dry wafers down his throat. When he had eaten a dozen of the biscuits he stopped and took a deep breath, it was then that he noticed a strange smell.
It wasn't entirely unpleasent, rather like the smell of burnt food. And it seemed to be coming from directly in front of him. Holding the biscuits in one hand, John reached into shadows with the other, hoping to find the source of the pungent odor. His fingers brushed against a metal object, obviously a pot. He grasped it and tried to pull it toward him but it wouldn't move. He wiggled it back and forth but still the pot held fast, as if it were glued to the table.
"Are you that hungry?" inquired a voice from the shadows.
The words startled John and he lept from the chair, sending the biscuits flying in all directions. He fell back against a wall and flung his hand toward the light switch, bathing the kitchen in bright yellow.
John stared at where the voice had originated and saw Inoda at the other end of the table. He had been sitting in the dark the entire time, his hand on a pot of burnt stew that had been neglected for several hours.
John was in a near panic and was unable to move. Inoda looked at John with tired eyes and nodded his head, indicating for John to sit down.
"Go on," said Inoda. "Have a seat and get comfortable, the two of you have some things to explain and I don't think it's going to take very long."
John slid into the nearest chair, all the while keeping an eye on Inoda. But the big man just sat there, arms folded, looking for all the world like a man that had seen too much of it.
"Mara, I want to see you in the kitchen, right now!" shouted Inoda.
He looked at John and narrowed his eyes.
"Put your clothes on, damn it," said Inoda angrily.
John had forgotten that he was half naked and grabbed his shirt, nervously pulling it over his head and trying to fit his arms through the sleeves. Finally his head popped out of the collar and he tugged at the hem, trying to smooth out the wrinkles.
Both men sat in silence until a minute had passed. Then they heard a door open and Mara shuffled into the kitchen, bleary eyed and wearing a bathrobe tied at the waist.
"What is it dad?" she mumbled. "And what is John doing here, don't the two of you know what time it is?"
"Don't get cute," said Inoda. "You know damn well why John is here, and I want you to explain it to me."
Inoda pushed the burnt pot across the table and leaned back. The two young people stared at the pot and then at each other, trying to communicate wordlessly and agree upon a plausible explanation.
"I'm sorry," apologized Mara, "I guess I must have forgotten all about it."
"The hell with the pot," answered Inoda. "I know what's going on between the two of you and I want an explanation."
"I don't understand," said Mara.
John could see that Inoda was becoming very angry, he didn't know him as well as Mara did but he knew that Inoda was not the kind of man who tolerated being lied to by anyone, especially his own daughter.
"When I arrived home this morning it smelled as if the house was on fire,&qout; began Inoda. &qout;That alone didn't tell me anything other than you had mistakenly left a pot of food in the oven. But when I opened your bedroom door to look in on you I almost went into a blind rage."
"What do you mean you looked in on me?" asked Mara.
"Just that," replied Inoda. "When I arrive home each morning I always check to see if you're ok, I wouldn't be much of a father if I didn't do these things."
John swallowed hard and glanced around the room. He remembered there was a small window directly behind him and it was a two storey drop to the street. At worst he might break his neck, if he were lucky he might sprain his leg. He figured it was worth a try.
"Sit still," said Inoda, reading John's body language. "If I intended to harm you, you would be dead by now."
John let out a deep breath. He and Mara weren't in the clear yet, but at least he was sure that Inoda wasn't going to kill him.
Mara slipped into the chair next to John and laid her hands on the table. She looked her father in the eyes and leaned back, as if she were a chess player that had found a weak spot in an opponent's defence.
"It's true," Mara admitted. "John and I were together, but there's nothing unusual about that. We're both about the same age and we're living in the same house. It was bound to happen sooner of later dad, what did you expect?"
"I expected more from you," answered Inoda. "I thought that I had raised you with a strong foundation of morals and values. I can't tell you how disappointed I am. If your mother were still alive, she would..."
At that instant Mara rose from the table, knocking her chair backwards onto the floor. She put her hands on the table and leaned forward, narrowing her eyes and staring at Inoda with an intensity that John had never seen before.
"Don't you dare bring her name into this," said Mara quietly. "We both know why she died and we agreed never to mention her in any arguments between us. If you ever talk about mother again I'll say something that we'll both regret."
John looked first at Mara, then at her father. Inoda looked like a man that had been broken, defeated by a single sentence sharper than any sword. John was aware that Mara's mother had died some years ago but was unaware of the circumstances. Mara had never told him, and John had never asked.
Inoda frowned and lay his hands in his lap, staring off at a wall as Mara's words cut into his heart. The man was obviously hurt, and the situation had turned to one of consolence instead of anger.
"It's not you fault," said Mara. "I just grew up, that's all. I'm not your little girl anymore and it's been that way for quite some time. I have to live my own life and you have to let go. Do you understand?"
Inoda nodded and looked at John who was staring back at him, so different from the terrible giant he had been a moment ago.
"What do you say?" asked Inoda. "Do you love Mara and want to stay with her?"
John reached over and lay his hand in Mara's.
"Yes," he answered earnestly, "I love her Inoda, we've felt that way about each other for a long time."
Inoda looked at the two of them for a moment and then rose from the table. He turned his back on the pair and walked to his room, shutting the door behind him and leaving John feeling a little confused about what had just happened.
"It's okay," said Mara. "He understands, it's just a matter of giving him some time to get used to the idea. He may not feel like talking for a few days but he'll come around, you'll see."
John nodded and looked toward Inoda's room. He sincerely loved Mara and was glad that things were out in the open, but he regretted the pain that it had caused his friend.
***
John held the wooden sword at shoulder height, his arms fully extended and the tip of the weapon touching Inoda's chest.
"That's right," said Inoda. "In a defensive situation keep your opponent at least a sword length away from you, that way you'll be able to see him shift his body as he slides his lead foot forward, giving you time to react."
John nodded and turned with Inoda as the big man circled him in a clockwise direction, looking for an opening to attack.
Suddenly Inoda lashed out, his own sword turning to a streak of black that swooped down on John like an angry bird. But John held his ground, secure in the knowledge that Inoda could do no harm. If the fight had been genuine John would have died that instant, for Inoda's weapon struck John hard on the shoulder, sending a wave of pain rushing down his right arm and forcing him to drop his blade.
"Damn it," said John angrily. "How did you do that? I measured off the distance between us and there was no way you could have been close enough to hit me."
Inoda rested the tip of the blade on his boot and propped his elbow on the pommel.
"True," he replied. "But the distance between two opponents is never a constant, do you understand?"
John shook his head, inviting Inoda to explain himself.
"You see John, as I circled you I was able to edge forward with each step until I was within striking range. Never take anything for granted and defend yourself, and remember to watch the eyes, often a less experienced opponent will tell you when he's going to strike."
John understood. He had never given any thought to such subtleties and there was obviously more to the art of swordplay than two men swinging blades at each other until one of them got careless.
He shook off the pain in his shoulder and picked up his sword, ready for another attempt at defending against Inoda.
Mara had been right, for the first few days Inoda had been in a sullen mood, barely speaking to the two young people unless it was necessary. But after a week he had gradually opened up and the situation between the three of them returned to normal. Inoda had become even more friendly toward John, offering to teach him the rudiments of swordplay. John had never given it much thought but the idea appealed to him, and it might help him in his work at the shop if he better understood the men he made weapons for.
Both men held their weapons straight out and then Inoda began to circle John once more, looking for an opportunity to attack. John looked at Inoda's eyes, trying to anticipate where the big man was going to strike, but Inoda was an experienced fighter and not likely to reveal his intended target.
John saw it, Inoda began a downward stroke of the blade without drawing his arms back first. He could do this because he was very strong and the move was deceptive. John raised the sword above his head and grit his teeth as Inoda's weapon struck his, causing a ripple that ran from his arms to his feet.
John stepped forward underneath Inoda's guard and swung his sword into his opponent's ribs, causing Inoda to step backwards and instinctively grab his chest where John had struck him.
At first John saw Inoda's face turn dark with anger as if the man was going to become serious about fighting him. But a moment later a broad smile spread across Inoda's face from ear to ear.
"Not bad," said Inoda approvingly. "You were able to spot my attack despite the fact that I didn't first pull my arms back."
"I figure a man of your strength doesn't have to," replied John. "And if these had been real weapons even a weak blow would have severely injured an opponent."
"Very good," said Inoda. "You'll make a fine swordsman yet John, and I'm just the man to teach you."
John couldn't supress the pride that swelled within him. He felt a pair of eyes on him and looked to the second floor window of the flat where they lived. Mara was standing at the window, arms folded and looking dispassionately at the two men engaged in mock swordplay.
John smiled to her but Mara didn't respond. She simply turned and walked away, leaving John wondering if there was something wrong.
"Well that's all for today," said Inoda handing his sword to John. "Go inside and tell Mara to start dinner, I have some business to attend to and I'll be back within the hour."
Inoda strode away and left John to bring the weapons inside. He turned and hurried into the building, anxious to tell Mara of Inoda's compliment.
"Did you see that?" said John as he burst into the apartment. "I managed to get a hit on your father, and he's not the kind to let anyone do that intentionally."
Mara was sitting at the kitchen table with her arms folded, looking at nothing in particular. She seemed to take no notice of him as she rose and crossed the room to the sink, filling a pot of water and setting it on the stove.
John frowned and wondered what could be wrong, Mara was never one at a loss for words and she seemed to be upset over something.
He walked toward her and held his arms out to embrace her, but Mara pushed him away and backed against a wall, staring silently at the floor.
"What's the matter Mara? If I've done something to make you angry then tell me what it is."
"I'm not angry at you John, it's dad I'm upset about. You don't know any better so I'm not blaming you."
"What should I know Mara? Inoda offered to teach me how to handle a sword and there's nothing wrong with that, especially for someone who lives in the scrapyard."
"No," answered Mara. "There's nothing wrong with learning how to handle a weapon, the problem is how you use such knowledge."
John frowned and shook his head in disgust. Mara was speaking in riddles and refusing to get to the point. She obviously disapproved of Inoda teaching him how to handle a sword but she wasn't about to say why.
"Look Mara, if you have something to tell me then do so. I've always answered any questions you've asked so I think it's only right that you do the same."
Mara looked at John and then moved toward a chair, indicating for him to do likewise.
They sat in silence, John waiting for Mara to collect her thoughts and tell him what was bothering her.
"You realize John that in the nine months that you've lived with us dad has come to think of you almost as a son."
"Yes," he replied. "And I respect the man for the help he's given me. Without him I would still be in the street, cheating and lying to get what I want."
"No John, you don't understand. Inoda needs you, he needs someone to carry on after he's gone, someone to continue what he started."
"I don't understand Mara, if you're talking about continuing the family line he has you, so what does he need me for?"
"Because I refused him," answered Mara. "Dad is hunter-warrior, he's proud of the fact and wants someone to continue in the tradition, but I won't embrace violence as a way of life. Inoda killed my mother and if I became a hunter as well it would be as if I had a hand in her death."
John pulled away and stared at Mara in disbelief.
"You can't be serious," he asked. "Inoda would never do such a thing, he speaks of your mother with great affection, it's obvious he cared for her a great deal."
"No, dad didn't kill mother by his own hand, but he might as well have. When she met him he was much the same as you were nine months ago, playing fast with his life and never caring about anyone but himself. But she changed all that, he went straight and tried to settle down. But he couldn't close that chapter of his life, not completely. He missed the thrill that the street gave him so he became a hunter-warrior. It was a way for him to stay in the game but keep on the right side of the law.
When I was a little girl I remember my mother begging him to stop. She couldn't bear the uncertainty of not knowing if every night he left the house she might never see him again. Then when I was ten years old her fears were realized. Dad had been out one night when he was ambushed by a gang. He was severly injured and survived only because of expensive surgery. It left us broke and it took him a long time to recuperate, with mother nursing him back to health at the expensive of her own."
Mara looked at John with sad eyes. She appeared to be on the verge of tears and John wanted to reach over and comfort her. But he knew it was best for her to continue, she wanted him to hear the truth about her father.
"After dad recovered he went back to his old ways, more determined than ever. But this time mother didn't beg him to stop. She knew he wouldn't listen to her but neither could she bear the thought of repeating the hell that he had put her through. So she killed herself in that very room you sleep in every night. And I was the one that discovered her, it was the only time I had ever seen her truly at peace."
John was shocked, he had no idea of the fate that had befallen Mara's mother and found it difficult to comprehend. The woman had committed suicide and left Mara alone with a father whom she blamed for her mother's death.
"I'm sorry," said John. "I wasn't aware of any of this. But you still can't blame your father after all this time, I'm sure he feels as badly as you do."
"No!" Mara shouted. "Mother's dead and it's his fault. I'll never forgive him and don't expect me to. And if you love me John you'll promise me not to give in to him. He'll try to get you to join him as a hunter but you have to refuse. There are ways to survive without resorting to violence, and if you do become a hunter you'll return to being the same man you were nine months ago. And that's not the kind of man I want to spend my life with."
John knew that Mara was serious. He had never given any thought to becoming a hunter-warrior but now it all made sense. Inoda was grooming him to become a hunter like himself, killing for money and little better than the men hunted.
He rose from the chair and moved to the other side of the table, placing his hands on Mara's shoulders to comfort her.
"Don't you worry," he said to her. "I'm happy in my job at the shop and there's no way I would do anything to hurt you."
Mara looked up at him and he wiped away the tears from her face.
"Promise me John, promise that you'll never become a hunter. I've already lost someone close to me and I couldn't bear the thought of losing you too."
"You won't," John assured her. "You have my word on it."
Mara smiled and John kissed her on the forehead. In his heart he had no desire to become like her father, and this was one promise he was sure he could keep.
Chapter Five