Cajun Justice(49)

“Umiko-san, I’m really excited to watch your kendo class tonight. Are you the best student?”

“Some are better than me,” she humbly said.

“And I bet you’re better than some—perhaps most,” Cain replied. “How many students are in the class?”

“Ten.”

“Just ten?”

“Martial arts used to be much more popular in Japan, but now everybody wants to play tennis, golf, or especially baseball.”

“Baseball can be fun to play, but it’s boring to watch. Second only to golf.”

“American influence has really made baseball popular. And it’s more of a team sport, whereas the martial arts are all about disciplining the individual’s body and mind.” She pointed to the sky. “And I cannot forget. My sensei always says kendo is also to cultivate a rigorous—no, that’s not right—a vigorous spirit. A lot of sports focus on making the body strong. But fighting without discipline and rules is just violence. That’s why the martial arts have tradition and religion.”

“Good point,” Cain noted. “It wasn’t until I joined a boxing gym in high school that I learned how important the mind is in fighting. Control your fear and try to outsmart your opponent.”

“We’re here,” she said with excitement as they approached a nondescript multilevel building.

“Well, that’s convenient for everyone—to have the dojo so close to the train station.”

“Hai.”

“It’s not what I expected,” Cain said.

“Really? What were you expecting?”

“I guess I was expecting some type of traditional hut outside town—in a small village. Definitely someplace more remote than next to the train station.”

Umiko giggled. “The martial arts are already dying in Japan. Imagine if the dojo was outside the city.”

Cain followed Umiko through the doorway. They took the narrow stairs to the second floor. He knew immediately upon entering the large open-bay room that he was in a sacred place. The walls and floor were constructed of wood, and he could see martial arts equipment hanging on the walls. There was a small entryway with several cubbies and shelves filled with shoes. Umiko had slipped off her shoes and deposited them into an empty cubbyhole before Cain had even removed his first boot.

“I really need to get some slip-on shoes if I’m gonna stay in Japan,” he said as he struggled to figure out how his boot would fit in one of the empty wooden cubbyholes.

Umiko giggled under her breath. “I like your boots. You should keep them,” she said with a shy smile.

Umiko showed Cain where the visitors sat: in a loft just outside the training floor. The loft was designed to give spectators just enough distance away from students dangerously swinging their forty-two-inch shinai practice swords. There were eight wooden chairs in a line against the wall.

“Do you need anything?” Umiko asked. Cain was touched that she was paying extra attention to his comfort.

“Nah, I’m good.”

“Great. I have to go change now. I’ll be back soon.”

The students started trickling out of the locker room wearing their kendo uniforms. The uniform consisted of a white pajama-like jacket, a pair of baggy black trousers that looked like a skirt, and plenty of protective equipment for the head, forearms, and chest. Some students were already wearing their head protection, while others were cradling it in the crook of their elbows.

An older man dressed in a worn martial arts gi started ceremonially beating a large drum in the corner. The beat echoed throughout the training hall. Cain could feel its vibrations. The drum seemed to represent the start of the class, since all the students uniformly got in line: three rows of three, and one row of one. The instructor, a small Japanese man who looked to be in his late sixties, approached the front of the class and yelled out something in Japanese. The students bowed to the instructor and then paired off.

For the next hour, students screamed and shouted “Kia!” as they swung their shinai at one another’s heads and torsos. Their strikes were so fast that often Cain couldn’t even see the contact that had been made. When the class ended, the students removed their sweat-soaked protective face shields. The majority went to the locker room to change, but Umiko headed straight for Cain. Her hair was pulled up in a bun. The glistening sweat on her face, paired with her nimble prance, made her appear ethereal.

“I’m so thirsty,” she said.

“I’m happy to get you some water. There are at least five million vending machines in this country.”

She giggled. “How about an Asahi?”

“An adult beverage? Even better! I can use a cold one myself after watching you tonight. You are fierce!”

Umiko smiled with a slight bow. “Arigato gozaimasu. I’ll be right back. I’m going to change into normal clothes.”

Cain assumed Umiko was going to change into some casual clothes, but when she emerged from the locker room, she was dressed up and well put together.

“I know just the perfect place for us to get a drink,” she said. “It’s walking distance, too.”

“I’m down.”

After a couple of minutes of walking, they arrived at a popular beer garden with a bunch of outside seats. Umiko and Cain found an empty bench and plopped down.