![]() StartingPoints Referenced by
|
A Cautionary Tale
Tristan: My first attempt at go fiction. My intention is to make a serious point, but I might give up on that if it seems appropriate to do so. One new chapter whenever I feel like writing one. For your information: This story is set in New York City around the mid-to-late 1950s. Caitlin Wang is the daughter of an immigrant Chinese amateur go player and an American woman. I have made some space at the bottom of this page for readers to suggest improvements, such as tips on how to make the characters' dialogue more authentic. Also, forgive me for the inevitable cultural misunderstandings and biases. You will find that similarities with Hikaru No Go are only passing - particularly as I go back over the story to replace rip-offs with more original ideas as I think of them! This is the "Paul Simon Approach" to writing - i.e., you start off with somebody else's work, then you replace bits and pieces until what you're left with is something totally diferent and new. Please do not alter the main body of the story. mgoetze: Discussion moved to ACautionaryTaleDiscussion. PROLOGUE Nakamura Satoru would have nightmares about his first day at work for the rest of his life. And not only at nights would he see the man's figure falling endlessly over a few short feet, but during the day he would expect to see it, too, whenever he looked up. The day had begun so proudly. His grandmother, his mother and his unemployed father had given him presents - a headband, a beautiful kimono, a fan, and, slightly incongruously, a digital watch - and had toasted him with sake. He, of course, had allowed himself only a single small cup. He had passed the tests and was now the family breadwinner. The day had gone so well. He enjoyed operating the controls of his subway train, and was thrilled to power it through the tunnels beneath Tokyo and to emerge into brilliantly lit stations, crowded beyond imagining with people. Then there was the camaraderie shared with his new colleagues. The company exhortation in the locker room at the beginning of the shift, the dirty jokes exchanged over hurried bento lunches, the subtle greetings between drivers and station staff. Yet, as his first day was drawing to a close, as he was carefully guiding the train into the penultimate station, he looked down ever so briefly to glance at his watch. A fraction of a moment later, he looked up again, and saw the man falling. CHAPTER ONE Another bleak October afternoon. There would be no Indian summer that year. A young girl was sitting on her bed, engrossed in a chess game that she was replaying from the 1948 World Championship. She sometimes shivered in the draught from the window, and occasionally lifted her eyes, dark and liquid, from the chess board to push away strand of deeply brown hair. Her mother knocked, unheard, on the door and stepped in. "Come on," she said, "It's time to get going. Put on your coat." "Sheesh, Ma!" moaned Caitlin, "Do we really have to go?" "Yes, Caitlin," replied her mother, "You do." "But I'm just getting to Bronstein's famous combination." "That can wait. This is important!" "No, this is important." declared the girl, stubbornly. "It can wait. Got it?" rasped her mother. "And it's so creepy. So weird. I hate it there," protested Caitlin, as her mother grasped her wrist. "Now you know there's nothing to be scared of," scolded her mother, "But I do know you just want to get back to your chess sets. Huh, a girl of your age shouldn't be frightened of something like that anyhow. It's a few prayers and a pinprick." "Then why don't you do it, Ma?" "Because," responded the woman, "That's why. Now make with your shoes and be quiet already." They arrived at the small temple off Chatham Square about ten minutes later. The woman nudged the reluctant girl, and her daughter performed the usual rituals while she waited. Having done these, Caitlin braced herself and stepped into the sanctuary, carrying a small bowl of Frankincense. She was greeted by the elderly priest, a small, sprightly man with a shaven head and stringy beard. He led her to the altar and showed her where to place the Frankincense offering. He grabbed her wrist as she was placing the bowl on the heater; she rolled her eyes and tutted when he indicated to her to use both hands. She then lit a taper and applied it to the incense. The priest bade her kneel and intoned some prayers to the altar, which was surrounded by candles and which bore a small black and white photograph of a rather haggard-looking Asian man. Caitlin was not expecting anything spiritual to happen. She had done this before, on several occasions, and nothing had happened. Yet this time, despite the aching boredom, she felt a certain unwelcome, but exciting unease. After they had prayed together - or, rather, after the old man had prayed and Caitlin had stifled several yawns - the priest rose and produced a small camphorwood chest. He opened the chest. It contained ten stones - five black and five white. It also contained a small silver knife, which had a groove running along the blade, which the priest removed. For Caitlin, this signalled the beginning of the worst part. The priest drew several short breaths and then his eyes rolled upwards, to show only the whites. He then grasped the girl and made an incision in her right arm, using the silver knife. She gasped. For a moment, she thought only of fleeing. She hated these stupid mumbo-jumbo rituals now and had only gone through them before for fear of her mother, but now, oh now she hated it all enough not to care about that. Yet, the moment passed, and she found herself compelled to stay. The priest allowed the girl's blood to trickle along the groove and onto the sandy floor between them, gradually forming the outline of archaic versions of Chinese characters - North, West, South, East, Sky and Earth. She began to feel faint, for the priest had cut somewhat more deeply than usual and had forgotten to apply a tourniquet, a legal rather than ceremonial requirement, before commencing the ritual. He took the stones and, his eyes remaining white and sightless, cast them in threes over the symbols. A black stone was left over. Several minutes passed, and Caitlin struggled to remain conscious, but she was still awake when the priest refocussed his eyes and spoke. "You will choose between two roads," he said solemnly. His voice sounded more resonant than Caitlin had ever heard it. "If you follow chess," he continued, "You will achieve glory and find destruction." "If you follow wei qi", he said, "You will achieve glory and bring destruction". At this point, the girl fainted altogether. When she awoke, she was lying in her own bed, her right arm tightly bandaged. She gradually became aware of an unfamiliar male voice. "Now, Mrs Wang," it said, "She will need to stay in bed for another two days. She has been in shock, and although she is in excellent health, it would be wise to take things gently." END OF CHAPTER ONE CHAPTER TWO "What?" exclaimed Mrs Wang, "What did you say?" "I said, can I go to the wei qi parlour with Uncle Sam tonight?" "But tonight's chess night!" replied her mother. "I'm getting bored with chess." said Caitlin. "But you always hated it when I got out your father's wei qi board. You know I got rid of it because of you. What's with the sudden change of heart?" "I just want to try it, alright?" snapped Caitlin. "Hey!" hissed Mrs Wang, "You will not talk to me like that." "Sorry," whispered Caitlin. "Good," said her mother. "I will ring Uncle Sam and ask him to pick you up at about seven." Later that evening, Caitlin found herself sitting at a long table, the only girl in the dimly lit, smoky room. The gentleman across the table, Mr Pak, continued explaining the rules. "So, if you play there, it's got two eyes and you can't be killed. Do you understand?" "Yes, Mr Pak," replied Caitlin, "But what if I play there?" "No, because..." replied Mr Pak. But at that point Mr Pak noticed something and started to study the board more intently. "Can't Black take White's surrounding stones?" asked Caitlin. "Erm, erm," replied the elderly gentleman, "Well, I think so, just let me put some stones down and check." A few of the other players had overheard the conversation and were looking on. One of them grabbed a stone and put it down. "What would you do if White did that then?" asked Mr Chang. "But then I'd put one here," replied Caitlin, excitedly. "Did you really never play before?" queried Mr Pak. "Yeah, surely your father must've..." asked another man, a tall, balding person in his late 60s. "Don't talk about my father!" snapped Caitlin. The room became silent. The balding man eyed the girl, the corners of his mouth quivering. The silence was broken at length by the patron, Huang Zi. "Apologise to Mr Zheng at once!" ordered Huang Zi. "I'm sorry," murmured Caitlin. The elderly man was unimpressed. "I said, apologise!" commanded Huang Zi. "I am truly sorry," whispered Caitlin, "Please forgive me." "Mr Wang," said Huang Zi, "I think you should take her home now. It's getting late and she has ruffled enough feathers for one evening. But I will be in touch with your sister-in-law before you get her home." "Please, don't do that," pleaded Sam Wang, stepping up to Huang Zi so that he could whisper in his ear. "Marlene will go nuts if she hears about this." "That's not why I want to talk to her," replied Huang Zi, enigmatically. END OF CHAPTER TWO CHAPTER THREE Marlene Wang was standing by the small table in her hallway, talking into her antiquated telephone. "No, I told you already," said Mrs Wang, "She has never played the game before. Anyway, what did you say she did? Saw a move some old man missed? So what's so remarkable about that? She's very clever and plays chess a lot." "Yes," said Huang Zi, "You're probably right. Old Mr Pak isn't very bright and I could see he didn't set up the position properly. But, look, could you do one thing for me?" "Go on," responded Mrs Wang. "Bring her down to my class at the China School next Thusday morning. I want to do some little tests." "What kinda tests?" "Look, Mrs Wang," explained Huang Zi, "I'm pretty good at spotting talent...there are certain things to look for, even if a child doesn't know the rules of the game." At that moment, Sam arrived with Caitlin. Mrs Wang covered up the mouthpiece and told Sam to pour himself some coffee, while the girl removed her shoes. She then hurried to finish her conversation with the wei qi parlour proprietor. "Okay, I'll do that," agreed Mrs Wang, "It's late. I'll see you Thursday." The next few days passed uneasily. Marlene Wang was worried on the one hand because Caitlin stopped bringing chess books hom fom the library, but on the other she was quite pleased not to have to find her playing with the oddballs over at Washington Square. She was relieved, too, that her girl had ceased talking interminably about Botvinnik and Bronstein, Smyslov and Petrosian and a host of other obscure Russians, but nurtured a host of other, more nagging worries. Was this new interest in wei qi just a fad? But what if she started to hang around with the fanatics who had ruined her father? What if she turned out to be like her father? Persuading Caitlin to accompany her to the China School did not prove easy, either. "I'm an American! I don't want to go to no ghetto Chinese school!" shouted Caitlin. "I already explained three times now that I'm not taking you there to enrol," said Mrs Wang. "Huh! You told me the same thing about the temples and the Aunties," spat Caitlin, "Just a visit, you say. Next thing I know and I'm spinning prayer wheels and burning incense like they're going out of style. What is it with you? I'm sick of all this dumb stuff." "You mind your mouth!" retorted her mother, gripping her wrists, "You remember what happened last time you showed such disrespect?" Caitlin paused and felt a twinge of pain as she remembered. Wisely, she fell silent and listened to her mother. "You're about an inch away," warned her mother. "Now, you're coming with me to meet Mr Huang. And, if you would just let me explain just once more if you'll only listen, he wants to play wei qi with you." "Anyway, Caitlin," her mother continued, "I just don't understand you. One minute you hate all things Chinese, and the next you ask me to take you to a wei qi parlour. Then you complain when I want to take you to play wei qi at the China School." "I want to play wei qi," said Caitlin, petulantly. "I don't want to go to a Chinese School." "As I've told you, a million times already, I'm not taking you there to enrol." Caitlin hated the place. She hated the gaudy red- and green-painted gates, the banners, the signs written in Chinese. She barely managed to hide her disgust when Mr Huang poured her a cup of a green tea after she had been shown into his office. Her expression brightened only when Mr Huang took out a large go board and produced a pair of baskets, each containing glass stones. "Where do you think the best spot is?" he asked. She looked at him quizzically. "If you had only one move," he said, "Where would you put it?" She took a white stone from the basket nearest Mr Huang. He winced a little, but let her rudeness pass. He noticed that she held the stone correctly, gracefully even. Caitlin did not hesitate, but placed the stone firmly onto the central point - tianyuan - the source of heaven. "Why did you do that?" asked Huang Zi. "Who controls the centre," she replied, "Controls the whole." "Did you learn that from playing chess?" "No, I knew that before I learned chess." "And what if I started off here?" asked Huang Zi, placing a stone in one of the corners. "I noticed those old men doing that," replied Caitlin, "But what do they know?" Huang Zi coughed, holding back his annoyance. Marlene Wang looked sharply at her daughter. "What's the point of this game?" asked Huang Zi, "Do you know that?" "To control," responded Caitlin, instantly. "No," answered Huang Zi, "The idea is to take territory." "But the one who has control," returned Caitlin, without hesitating, "Will take it in the end." Huang Zi's face turned purple and Marlene Wang angrily advanced on her daughter. But, an instant later, Huang Zi began laughing. His body shook with laughter. He howled and stamped on the floor. Mother and daughter stared at him in amazement. Eventually, he regained his composure. "Miss Wang," he said, "Please leave the room." END OF CHAPTER THREE CHAPTER FOUR Huang Zi became Caitlin's go teacher. The clientele in his go parlour quickly learned to fear and respect the gangly half-Chinese girl with the beautiful brown, almost black, hair and pale skin. They feared her because she was brash, a bad loser and highly emotional, scarcely able to hide her glee at opponents' mistakes and prone to tears when things went against her. They feared her also because she seemed to gain a stone in strength with every game. Huang Zi tried hard to smooth out her rough edges, even banning her from the club for a week after she had humiliated old Mr Pak in her first nine-stone game as White. Yet, there was little he could do. Sam Wang had warned him about Marlene's alcoholism and unstable temperament. Any mention of misbehaviour might result in a beating. Nor could they think of a way to remove Caitlin from Marlene's care. She was all that Marlene had left of her husband. Heaven only knew what she would do if Caitlin were taken away. Nevertheless, some progress was achieved over the first year. Huang Zi had arranged for Caitlin to attend the China School, which he part-owned, for one day a week. Caitlin was horrified at the idea, but Huang Zi had threatened to cease teaching her go if she decided not to go along with it. The idea was for Caitlin to improve her Mandarin and to become more appreciative of her ethnic background; she had never been able to understand why her White mother would sometimes insist on talking to her in Mandarin, and she hated it whenever her mother dragged her along to her obscure Confucian temple. At least, thought Huang Zi, Caitlin might appreciate a more authentic cultural experience. Not that Caitlin's progress was easy. The other children teased her at first because of her hair, and because she was tall and pale. But, gradually, Caitlin earned respect. She was not only tough when playing adults at wei qi, but she was well able to look after herself, one day sending one of the toughest boys home in tears after he had foolishly picked a fight with her. Her Mandarin improved quickly, too, in spite of distaste for it. Occasionally, Huang Zi would take Caitlin to other go clubs around New York. She particularly enjoyed trips out to Flushing, which was just beginning to become a popular location for Korean and Chinese immigrants. Although she lost most of her games, she always returned from Mr Seong's baduk hall on 49th street with her head buzzing with ideas. The players there were so tough, so determined, so ruthless. She so much wanted to be like them. By November, Caitlin had been playing for just over a year and had reached the rank of 1st dan in Huang Zi's wei qi parlour. She still had little chance when playing on even with the Koreans out in Flushing, but she was reducing her handicaps and growing in skill with each game she played. Another interesting factor was that she was becoming much better at controlling her feelings. You could see that she was angry when she lost, but somehow she found herself able to offer the victor an icy smile. Most of the men found it cute for an eleven-year-old girl to smile like this, but they did not realise that she was planning to belittle each of them as soon as she became strong enough -- she never forgot and certainly never forgave a defeat. It was snowing outside, but Caitlin was sitting by a parafin heater in the Seong Baduk Hall, engrossed in a romance novel. She found such literature corny, but somehow it helped her to express new feelings that were stirring within her. It was quiet, save for the occasional moans or laughs of a pair of elderly gentleman who played speed go in one corner, gambling a dollar a game. She took no interest in them. Even though they were stronger than her in a manner of speaking, she could see that they played a poor class of go, and she didn't want to waste her time on it. Huang Zi returned, carrying a brown paper bag and accompanied by a smartly dressed Asian man. They removed their coats and brushed snow from them. "Here, Caitlin," said Huang Zi, handing Caitlin the bag, "I got you a burger and fries. Sheesh, when are you gonna start eating real food?" "Thanks," said Caitlin, scarcely looking up from her book. "Now," said Huang Zi, "Allow me to introduce you to Mr Yamada. He is visiting from Japan." "Hello," murmured Caitlin, in a matter-of-fact voice. "Caitlin!" barked Huang Zi, "Be polite! Mr Yamada is a very important man." Caitlin got up and put down her book, a little more forcefully than necessary. Cringing inside, she bowed deeply, and called to mind the greeting Huang Zi had taught her. "Yamada-san, hajimemashite. Dozo yorishiku." Yamada responded in English, "Hello Miss Wang, may I have a game with you. Mr Huang was telling me how skilful you are." Caitlin nodded and sat down at one of the go boards. Mr Yamada sat down opposite her. She reached for the white stones. Huang Zi was horrified and went over to grasp the bowl, but Mr Yamada merely smiled and spoke gently. "You may certainly have the white stones, Miss Wang," he said, "But allow me to pass on my first move." Caitlin turned pink, and offered the bowl of white stones to Mr Yamada, but he laughed and refused it. She grasped a stone and slapped it hard into the top right corner. Mr Yamada passed again, and again, until five white stones were in place. He then began to play. Yamada played loose, fluid moves, setting up light positions throughout the board. Caitlin was amazed that he did not attack with dogged persistence like the Koreans, indeed he even allowed her to capture a group of five stones in one of the early exchanges. At first, she thought that her opponent was soft, and would be an easy kill, but even as she was removing his stones from the board she blushed and hesitated, as she saw how strong his shape had become, how her capturing stones were themselves tightly confined, no longer to play any meaningful part in the game. Yamada noticed her reaction and smiled inwardly. She had made one of the commonest mistakes, for sure, but he was impressed that she had realised it so quickly. Caitlin began to think hard. Every impulse told her to play close to Yamada's strong group, to take away the territory that he threatened to make. She picked up a stone and went to place it, but stopped herself; she saw that if she played where she had wanted to, then he would make a pincer. For sure, her group would survive, and the strong enemy group would be neutralised, but what about her corner? That would become much weaker - Yamada might even be able to kill it. Not only that, but she also asked herself, what about the invading group itself? What would she get for it other than a miserable, grovelling life? Maybe Mr Kim, the 2 gup and one of the strongest players in the Baduk hall, would play like this -- indeed she had seen him do it -- and get away with it -- she had seen him do that, too -- but it simply didn't feel right. Better skill doesn't make one a better player than the opponent, not always. Some people, like old Mr Cho, were hopelessly lacking in skill, at least compared with their peers, and yet somehow managed to win their share of games through better overall judgement. Everybody knew, she pondered, how Mr Cho would avoid fights and play tightly, but do so in such a way that his strategic gains would outweigh his tactical losses. So, in the end, she decided she would try and play as she thought Mr Cho would. The minutes ticked by, and Yamada studied his opponent carefully. She was so pretty, so delicate; and yet there was something about the way she looked at the board, intently evaluating possibilities, that bespoke cruel determination. He had rarely seen that particular look, that trance-like concentration, except in the very finest players in Japan. Caitlin wracked her memory, thinking back over games she had seen and played with Mr Cho, trying to find a comparable situation. Eventually, she opted on a tight small knight's enclosure from her star point, facing toward her opponent's strong group. Sure, Huang Zi and others had told her that this move was frowned upon as a rule,[1] but this seemed the only way to play, the only way to continue developing her position while thwarting her opponent's expansion in that direction. Huang Zi was watching, and shook his head very slightly, but Yamada sank into thought. This was the best move, but not at all easy to find under the circumstances. Two hours passed unnoticed. A small crowd of players arrived unnoticed, too. Eventually, the game concluded, after several nerve-jangling ko fights had been played out. Caitlin had lost by three points. She turned white and ran out of the room, sobbing, even as Mr Yamada had begun returning stones to the bowls, and even as the onlookers were clapping their hands in admiration for such a fiercely contested game. Huang Zi turned after Caitlin, "Hey, Caitlin Wang, come back this instant, and thank Mr Yamada for the game!" Yamada got up and caught up with Huang Zi. "Mr Huang", said Yamada, "I am not offended. You cannot know what she put into this game. But I tell you, I have not seen talent like this in all the forty three years that I have been playing go." END OF CHAPTER FOUR CHAPTER FIVE They eventually found Caitlin lying semi-conscious in one the back streets. She had sat down weeping in the snow, oblivious to the cold and filth. Huang Zi took off his coat and wrapped her in it, and drove her back to Manhattan Chinatown, to her mother's apartment. Caitlin suffered miserably from a chill for another ten days. Her mother alternated between anger and concern, bringing the girl soup one moment and scolding her the next for being so foolish. Still, she recovered, and returned to her routine of reading the old go magazines Huang Zi had given her, devouring trashy romances, and attending school. While Caitlin was recovering, Mr Yamada and Huang Zi met for dinner, at a smart place near Yamada's Brooklyn hotel. "How is she?" asked Yamada. "The doctor says she will be fit for school again by Monday," replied Huang Zi. "I tell you again," said Yamada, "I have never seen a child quite like her." "I remember Kuwabara when he was a child," continued Yamada, as he poured a drink for Huang Zi, "He used to go off wandering when he had lost, but never in such weather." "I've got to teach her some manners," lamented Huang Zi. "Hah-hah," laughed Yamada, "That will come. But she'll never be able to mean it. She's too much of a killer, that one." "Indeed," said Huang Zi. They continued talking for a while, reminiscing about young players they had known in the past, until they reached a late stage in the meal. They decided to bring their discussion to the point. "Now," said Yamada, "May I make a proposal?" "Do please," responded Huang Zi. "A child of such talent might do well if she spent some time studying in one of our go schools in Japan," said Yamada. "Indeed," said Huang Zi, "The go world in Japan is flourishing. I have noticed even some Chinese names doing well of late." "Hah-hah," laughed Yamada, "Yes, young Rin will go far, I may predict." "But, to do so well," continued Yamada, "It is naturally necessary that a child be recommended and sponsored." Huang Zi nodded his head. "To that end, Mr Huang," said Yamada, "I need no further convincing. I would gladly provide a letter of recommendation to Mr Takeshi himself..." "Takeshi Maruhito? Takeshi himself!" coughed Huang Zi, genuinely surpised. "Yes, the go school of Takeshi Maruhito Meijin. Already the Number One go dojo in Japan." "Do you really believe in her talent that much? From just one game?" exclaimed Huang Zi, forgetting himself in his surprise. "Indeed I do," replied Yamada, equally directly, but cordially. "There would of course be minor practical matters to arrange," continued Yamada, "But Mrs Takeshi will see to her comfort, I am certain." Huang Zi frowned. "Mr Yamada," said Huang Zi, "On your recommendations, I would gladly take any practical matter in hand. However, I can forsee a serious problem." The problem, of course, was Marlene Wang. Huang Zi and Yamada went to see her while Caitlin was at school. Marlene was furious. "Take her to Japan?" cried Marlene, "I don't want her setting foot there. Don't you know what the Japanese did to Marlene's grandfather? Don't you?" "I know," replied Huang Zi, "But time moves on." "Not for Wang Qin!" screamed Marlene, "Not for his friends, not for his countrymen." Marlene rounded on Yamada. "And you!" she cried, "What about you? Who did you slaughter?" "Madam," replied Yamada, with dignity, "I killed nobody. I served my emperor and my country, but I was wounded and discharged before I could even aim my rifle." "That doesn't change anything!" raged Marlene. "Maybe it does not," said Huang Zi, "But what about Caitlin? what about her life? God knows how I'd like to change the past, but how can we not allow Caitlin the best chance in her future?" Marlene stared at Huang Zi, still shaking with anger. "Marlene," he said gently, "Japan has changed. They have suffered as well. They have to face the future, too. We all have to begin healing sometime. Must Caitlin bear her grandfather's wounds?" AUTHOR'S NOTE: I am uncomfortable with this section. I cannot see how I can avoid mentioning the War given the time frame of my story, but I don't want to offend anybody. How can I keep this even-handed and fair without losing dramatic effect? "And what about me?" asked Marlene, "I do not want to go to Japan. Yet you're asking me to send my only daughter there." "There are many Americans and Chinese in Japan, too," said Yamada. "Yes, Marlene," said Huang Zi, "It wouldn't be so very different to living here." END OF CHAPTER FIVE CHAPTER SIX It took many months to make arrangements for Marlene and Caitlin Wang to leave the United States. Marlene changed her mind frequently, and re-changed it equally often. Eventually, though, Marlene agreed to Huang Zi and Yamada's plans, on condition that Caitlin lived with her, rather than at Takeshi Meijin's house. Caitlin herself was horrified at the prospect of the leaving the United States. She was still less than delighted with her American mother's obsession with Chinese traditions, and with her weekly sessions at the China School. The thought of learning another language, learning yet more customs, and eating still more weird food was almost too much to face. However, Huang Zi was able to persuade her. The prospect of earning large amounts of money was not yet especially tempting, but when Huang Zi mentioned the kinds of players Caitlin would be able to play with every day the girl's imagination began to fly. They were to depart at the end of summer, shortly after Caitlin's fifteenth birthday. The final days of summer term seemed unreal to Caitlin, and she found great difficulty in concentrating on classes. She loved modern life in New York, but she always found learning American history to be boring at best, and pointless at worst. What did she care how the Gettysburg Address went? What did she care for Andrew Grant?[2] What good to her was the history of railroads so long as she could get to where she wanted? As for the China School, strangely it seemed to her to be less of a burden. What was one day a week spent speaking Mandarin and learning calligraphy compared with the life that was in prospect for her? She was dreading Japan and all its customs, so familiar and yet so foreign, but even so she was looking forward to it because at least she would get to play the fighting games of go that she longed for. The last day of term came quickly. Caitlin was gazing blankly at the blackboard as Mr Harlow finished writing out revision notes. She began nodding off, but was caught up short when she heard her name. "So, if the value of Y is 3.5, who can tell me how to work out what X is in this equation," said Mr Harlow, looking around, "Hmm. Caitlin Wang." "Huh, yeh, sorry," she responded. "If the value of Y is 3.5, can you tell us what X is in the equation?" repeated Mr Harlow. "Erm, erm," hesitated Caitlin, thinking furiously, "23.567." "Jumping Jehesophat!" responded Mr Harlow, "That's absolutely correct, but I only wanted the answer to one decimal place you know." "Sorry," replied Caitlin. "No, it's great," said Mr Harlow, "You're a strange girl. Half asleep and then you solve that equation on sight to three decimal places. Oh well, shame you're leaving. Right, let's move on. Gary Karpov! Stop scratching yourself - you're not a monkey! - and tell me what the answer would be if I made the value of Y here 3." Most of the class turned back to the blackboard, but a few faces glared enviously at Caitlin for a moment. There was one face however, that remained fixed on her for more than a moment, and it bore a smile. Caitlin noticed the boy, and smiled back at him. It was shy Peter Gray, the kid from Queens. The bell rang. Caitlin gathered her things together slowly and deliberately, taking much more time than necessary. Peter Gray did the same thing. She waited for him in the corridor. Caitlin looked at her watch. "Nuts! I'm going to miss the bus," she lied. "C-c-can I walk you home?" stammered Peter. "I guess you'll have to," replied Caitlin. Neither the boy nor the girl said anything for several minutes. Peter did not know what he should say; he had noticed Caitlin months ago, had been fascinated by her, but had never found an opportunity to make contact. Caitlin was not nervous herself - in fact she felt slightly amused by his shyness - but she wanted him to say something, to show her something of himself. Of course, several boys had asked her out already, but none of them had shown her any respect: they had been confident that she would say yes, and were stunned when she rejected them. All Peter seemed to want, in contrast, was to be near her for a time, and she sensed his fear and joy as he achieved even this small thing - and she liked that, for it made her feel special. Eventually, Peter thought of something to say. "I hear you like playing chess, that you're really swell at chess," he said, "I like chess. Will you play a game with me some time?" "I don't like chess," she replied, but on seeing his features fold, she added, "But I used to." "Would you play with me?" he asked again. "No," she responded. He looked downcast once again, and he was silent for some time. She decided the moment was right to rescue him. "Have you ever played go?" she asked "What's that?" "Maybe some time I will show you," she responded. She turned to enter the subway station. "I'll be okay by myself now Peter," said Caitlin, "Thankyou for walking with me. I'll see you again." He looked sad and disappointed, and he said goodbye and trudged off. But looking back for a moment, he realised that she had ben watching him instead of turning straight into the tunnel to the subway. Perhaps she was interested in him, after all. CHAPTER SEVEN Peter Gray had never heard of go, and neither had his mother and father. He got the dog-eared encyclopaedia down from the shelf and looked it up, but he was hardly convinced by the definition: 'GO or GOBANG. An Oriental game popular in Japan. Played on a grid of 15 x 15 squares. The object is to make a line of five counters, orthogonally or diagonally.' This did not seem to be the kind of game that anybody would give up playing chess for. He thought about asking Caitlin next time he saw her, but there were two drawbacks to that idea. First, it was already Wednesday evening and term ended on Friday, meaning that it was quite possible he would not get to see her (Math being the only class they both attended at the same time). Second, he worried that she might think him an idiot. So, on consideration, it seemed better to him to do what he always did when he came across a puzzle - to go to the city library at the weekend and to do some research. In the meantime, Caitlin's mother received letters from Japan, another one confirming Caitlin's acceptance at the dojo of Takeshi Meijin and one explaining precautions and arrangements required to take up residence. Huang Zi was also becoming something of a fixture in the house, tutoring Caitlin daily and constantly reassuring Marlene. For all this, Japan suddenly seemed unbelievably distant and vague in Caitlin's mind, as unreal as school had become. She was surprised at herself, but she was intrigued by the shy, awkward boy who had walked her to the subway station last night. She sweetly regretted not having been a little more forthcoming, too, but she hoped that she he would seek her out. They did not see each other. Somehow, the teachers managed unintentionally to contrive things so that class overlapped by a few minutes, so that Caitlin would have to be on the other side of the building as Peter was arriving in another part of it. Peter did not give up, however. He went to the library on the weekend following the end of term and began digging. The librarians had not heard of a game called go, but his luck changed when he stumbled across a book entitled Go and Gomoku by the famous chess master Edward Lasker. He settled down at a desk, and began to read. He was enthralled. What a simple concept for a game! How amazing the possibities! He also learned, with interest, that the game was sometimes known by other names. And so, before Peter left the library, he began scouring the telephone directories for the words "igo" and "wei qi". He was surprised to learn that there were over thirty locations in the five boroughs of New York where one could play, but he was resolved to try them all if he had to, just to show Caitlin what he was prepared to do in order to see her again. During the same weekend, Huang Zi presented Caitlin with a book. "These are the games of Master Wu," he said, "I have mentioned him before, but now I think you are ready. He is the real number one player in Japan. Greater even than Takeshi Sensei. Like us, he is Chinese. One day, you will get to meet him. Strive to become like him and do honour to China." Caitlin felt honoured and irritated at the same time. Not so long ago she would have retorted that she was an American, but now she recognised the trouble Mr Huang had gone to to obtain the book and received it gratefully. "I don't want to you to continue attending the Baduk Hall or any other wei qi parlour from now on," said Huang Zi, "From now on, I wish you to memorise one game from that book each day." Caitlin looked at him with a puzzled expression. Again, she felt irritation along with other emotions. "There are those who play," continued Huang Zi, "And those who progress. Master Wu's moves will show you the way." Caitlin understood, but it was simply not in her character to follow such a command. She would play go, no matter what Huang Zi told her to do. Several days passed before Peter Gray summoned up the courage to begin his quest. He first tried the Seong Baduk Hall in Flushing. He arrived in the mid-afternoon, when the only patrons about were a group of elderly men and Mr Seong's younger brother, Mok. Peter found the place thorougly intimidating. The air was already blue with smoke, and an argument was in progress. "Hello?" said Peter, nervously. "Yeah?" responded Seong Mok, "You've come to play Baduk?" "I don't know how," Peter admitted. "Beginner's class on Friday, 6 PM, $2," responded Seong Mok, rather curtly. "Please, I'm looking for a girl, her name's Caitlin," said Peter. Seong Mok misheard him. "Sorry, nobody called Kate here," he said. Peter thanked him for his trouble and left, feeling deflated. It only later occurred to Seong Mok that there was a customer of the boy's age called "Caitlin Wang"; he did not think of it immediately because everybody referred to her as "Miss Wong" or, somewhat more often, as that "Chinese brat". He was not surprised that a boy was look for her, however - she was becoming rather cute. Dang! If only she were a little older, he thought. Caitlin scoured the telephone directories, and eventually hit on a club that sounded promising. Somewhere where she would not be known; somewhere that had not banned her for her poor manners; somewhere where she could get a decent game without Huang Zi finding out about it. By the time two weeks had passed, Peter had nearly given up his search. A couple of the go parlours he visited knew of Caitlin Wang, but were unable to provide information as to where she lived or even when she would most likely show up again. Most of the time he felt embarrassed and had great difficulties explaining what he was doing. He was not aware of the coincidence, of course, but at one of the clubs one of the players sat him down and played a game with him; his name was Pak, and he proudly wiped out every one of Peter's stones. Peter asked Mr Pak whether he knew of Caitlin Wang. "Ah, Miss Wang," he said, "She used to play at Huang Zi's Parlour." "Yes?" said Peter, eagerly, "Where is it?" "Ah, he closed it down a few weeks ago," replied Mr Pak. "Do you know where I could find this Huang Zi?" asked Peter. "Sorry," said Mr Pak, shaking his skinny bald head. "What is like? Is she good?" asked Peter. "She's good, but I could give her 9 stones, just as I did you," lied Mr Pak. The other regulars at the club overheard this, but let it pass. They had vaguely heard of a supremely strong half-Chinese prodigy, and they knew Mr Pak to be a bit soft in the head, but what was the point of correcting him? It was not as if he had very much else to do than make fantastic boasts and to beat up on any new players who happened to come to the club. Still, as Peter was climbing back up the stairs to the sidewalk, a woman trotted up behind him and put her hand on his shoulder. "Excuse me," she said. Peter turned round to face the woman, who had been sitting in the corner quietly washing go stones in a bowl of soapy water while he had been playing with Mr Pak. "Did I hear you say you were looking for Caitlin Wang?" said the woman. "Yes," replied Peter. "I have met her once or twice," the woman said, "I'll bet you like her, eh?" Peter blushed. "Well, she's a strange girl. She's kind of unpredictable." continued the woman, "But I think I might know where you might find her." Peter looked at her. "My husband said that last week she showed up at the Dragon on 123rd St. It's a bit distant, and he was only there to see his cousin about a business thing, but he noticed that she was there. He didn't know what she was doing so far uptown, but there you go." "The Dragon?" Peter said. "Yes, it's a restaurant," said the woman, "But if you ask for Guo Yang's Wei Qi they'll show you round the back. It's open every night, but the 'gang' only meet on Thursday night." "The gang?" "Gambling. High stakes," she explained, "But don't you dare let on that you know about that." Peter thanked her and headed home, happy to have another possibility to try. Another Thursday evening rolled around. Again, Caitlin lied to her mother and Huang Zi that she was heading to a Japanese evening class at the community college in Brooklyn. Again, she declined Huang Zi's offer of a ride. Once more, Huang Zi later noted that money was missing from his wallet. He was becoming extremely suspicious. He was quite a careless man, he knew, and it was not unlike him to lose $100 bills - but for this to happen three Thursday evenings in succession? What the hell could Caitlin need to steal such large amounts of money for? Then, a dark thought entered his mind. Damn! Had she got mixed up with the "gang"? How in heaven's name did she find out about it? He had to act. END OF CHAPTER SEVEN CHAPTER EIGHT Peter turned up at the Dragon on the Thursday and asked for Guo Yang's Wei Qi, but the waiter politely denied any knowledge of it. Peter did not believe the waiter, but lacking sufficient money to hang around and to buy a meal, he had no choice but to loiter in the street opposite the restaurant and to wait and see if Caitlin appeared. A middle-aged man walked into the restaurant. The waiter recognised him immediately. "Ah, Mr Huang," said the waiter, "They are all here. And there's a new face. A girl." Huang Zi's face turned red. He was a calm man, but now he was becoming very angry. In a back room, Caitlin Wang was playing go with a stocky man who appeared to be in his mid-forties. Half a dozen other men were standing around the table, following the action on the board. Wads of money were stacked on the table. Every spectator's expression changed from one agony to another with each move, as a violent fight unfolded. The girl was lanky, slight and weak-looking, but on the go board she was slugging it out toe-to-toe with Harry Yang himself. The door burst open. "So!" roared Huang Zi, "THIS is how you treat me!? You're a no-good scum like your father! Well, I'm gonna thrash your butt here and now and so bad you'll be standing all the way to Japan." Caitlin looked at him, stunned. The other men had seen many violent outbursts in their time, but nobody had ever seen Huang Zi look so angry, not even in the good old days when he would hang around drinking and gambling with "Drunken Master" Wang Ping Yuan. They did not oppose him as he dragged Caitlin out of her chair and into the restaurant. He threw her over one of the tables, upsetting some plates, and removed his belt. At the same time, Peter was looking into the window and saw what was about to happen. He could not stand it. He did not stop to think but ran into the restaurant and grabbed Huang Zi's wrist, even as he was swinging his belt to strike the terrified girl. There was mayhem. Huang Zi tried to push the boy away, but Peter would not let go. They struggled together, upsetting another table, kicking each other but somehow staying on their feet. When, after several long minutes, it appeared that Huang Zi was overpowering the boy, Peter desperately lunged up and bit deeply into his arm, straightaway drawing streams of blood. The pain of the bite yanked Huang Zi back to his senses. He dropped the belt and saw himself for how he was behaving: a bully. He crumpled up and began sobbing uncontrollably. Peter ran over to Caitlin and put his arms around her. She, too, was crying, heaving great sobs. She was out of her mind with fear. Yang Guo himself appeared. "What the blue blazes is going on?" he demanded, as he beheld the staggering mess in his restaurant. "Shall I call the police?" asked on the diners. "Damn no," replied Yang Guo. Yang Guo turned to his son, who had been watching the scene. "Harry, get them into the back room NOW. And when you've done that, get this goddamned mess straightened out." The atmosphere in the back room was bizarre. Somehow anti-climactic, and yet even more tense at once. Caitlin was curled up in one corner, gently sobbing as Peter held her tightly, trying hard to comfort her and not having a clue as to what to say or do. "Old Huang Zi," said Yang Guo, shaking his head, "And there I was, thinking you had gone all respectable." "I'm sorry," croaked Huang Zi, "I will pay for the damage." "You're damn lucky that I can't call the cops, Huang," said Yang Guo. "I never thought I could lose my temper like that," continued Huang Zi. "So, I take it she did not have your permission to be here, after all?" asked Yang Guo, ironically. "Anyway, I suppose I'm gonna have to call Dr Li over to patch you up." Yang Guo called for Dr Li and gave Peter some dollars to take Caitlin home in a cab. Huang Zi tried to approach her, but the others would not let him. "It's gonna be a long time before she trusts you again," said Yang Guo. END OF CHAPTER EIGHT CHAPTER NINE Caitlin refused to see Huang Zi for two weeks. Huang Zi explained to Marlene what had happened and apologised profusely. Marlene herself was furious with Caitlin but could not bring herself to punish her for the thefts. She was, in fact, more angry still with Huang Zi for the way he had terrified her daughter in the restuarant. Every day, Peter would call. Had things been different, Marlene would have turned him away, but, as it was, she felt profoundly grateful to him for way he had defended Caitlin. To begin with, Peter would sit with Caitlin in her room. She said very little, but he understood. He would gently hold her hand whil she gazed at the wall, half-remembering Huang Zi's outburst and half-escaping into the games of Master Wu that she had memorised. Then, one day, Caitlin began to talk. She told Peter everything, even the things for which she had no words. How she longed for her father, whom she remembered only distantly, a vague form that smelt sweetly of cheap whiskey and cheap tobacco, who would put her on his knee and hold her, safe; safe forever from all harm. How her father faded away even before she could remember him properly. She told Peter about her mother, the way she drank and sometimes spoke only to her in Mandarin, even though she knew little of the language and even though her mother was really ordinary Marlene Thomas from New Jersey. How her mother would take her to strange temples and make her pray to photographs of her grandfather and his father before him. How she had learned chess at school and had found within it a world without pain, a world of play and delight so sharply contrasted with the human ruins around her. How finally she had been overcome with the urge to play the strange game that she had seen her Chinese relatives playing at parties, and how that game made even chess seem as a stream compared with the ocean. And it was at that moment that her eyes met with Peter's, and they felt pulled together by an irresistible force, a force that compelled their lips to meet in an endlessly sweet and unreal kiss. It was the longest summer of Caitlin's life and also the shortest. Time seemed to have no meaning while she was with Peter, whose kindness and respect for her belied his years. He would show her treasures in museums and galleries, things that she used to dismiss as boring and irrelevant. He showed her how to see the beauty in a leaf, and to appreciate the flowing power and still tranquility of a river. Yet every wonderful day that passed was a day nearer to the departures hall. Even though she loved Peter, she knew that her life was going to be in Japan, that her destiny was in Japan. Ten days before departure, Huang Zi called early at the Wang's apartment, before Peter had arrived and while Caitlin was still making the breakfast. "What do you want?" "I'm truly sorry," said Huang Zi. "Yeah," said Caitlin, "So, what do you want?" "Look, Caitlin," said Huang Zi, with a slight edge, "What I did was wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong. But haven't you forgotten something? You were taking cash out my wallet, and that was bad enough, and then lying not only to me, which I can just about stand, but to your own mother, which was unforgiveable..." "Alright, alright already," Caitlin interrupted, "I'm sorry too." There was a slight pause. "Well, I suppose you'd better come in," continued Caitlin, slightly reluctantly, "Can I get you some coffee?" "Yes, thanks." "Why have you come?" "You need to know some things," said Huang Zi, solemnly. "What kind of things?" "Your mom never told you much about what happened to your father." "He died when I was little," replied Caitlin. "That's not really true," responded Huang Zi. "Hah!" laughed Caitlin, bitterly, "So now my mom's a liar to me? Is that unforgivable, too?" "No," retorted Huang Zi, "Whatever your mother said, she would have said for your own good." At that moment, Marlene Wang appeared in the living room, dressed only in her Chinese silk bathrobe. "Hello, Zi," said Marlene, "I see she's talking to you now." "Yes, Marlene," replied Huang Zi, "I think it's time to tell her about her father." "He said he's not dead. Is that right?" asked Caitlin. "He's as good as dead," returned Marlene. "What! So he's alive after all!? How could you make me think he was dead!" Caitlin was briefly enraged, but suddenly she began crying. Huang Zi tried to put his arms around her to comfort her, but Caitlin pushed him away. He realised then that he had lost her trust forever. Finally, it was Marlene who calmed Caitlin down enough to listen, simply by holding her hand and waiting. How Marlene wished that Peter had been there! "His name is Wang Ping Yuan," said Huang Zi, "He was perhaps the strongest wei qi player in the States in the 1930s and 1940s." Caitlin looked directly at Huang Zi for the first time. "He was also a drunk and a gambler. A cheat, a thief and a womaniser," added Huang Zi. "Not to mention a wife-batterer," said Marlene. "He was a brilliant man and a total idiot. 'A short, short man with a big face,' was how old Takanatsu-sensei used to call him." "When he first came to America, there was very little work. It was in the blackest days of the depression," continued Huang Zi, "He would hang around the wei qi parlours and baduk halls, taking on all comers for a few cents a game. And that is how he would get by. He got particularly good at hustling. That is, some guy would come in, and Ping Yuan would give him a game. He'd play really badly, and contrive to lose by many points. Then, when the other guy was starting to get bored, he'd fiddle it so he'd win by just a point or two, making it look kind of lucky. That's how he'd hook 'em. The fishes would never believe this jerk could beat them. There was seldom a fish he didn't leave high and dry." Caitlin stared at him. "But, for all that," Huang Zi went on, "He was generous. I've known him lend a friend his last cent on many occasions, and while he'd always clean his victims out, he'd quite often buy them a sandwich and coffee. He was never as ruthless in life as he was on the go board." "That was how he lived, and then the New Deal came along, and he got himself a job. It was hard work, but he had regular money and lots more of it than he got out of hustling. And that's when he started drinking again. It'd wouldn't have been so bad, but for his falling in with Yang Guo and the 'gang'. Word had got around about his skills, and one day he was invited to play with the Yangs and for real money, too. He got more erratic at attending his job, and his drinking got worse, but he managed to keep winning. Then I met him." "I was the only player in New York who could match up to Wang Ping Yuan, the 'Drunken Master'. We'd play all night and the rest of the gang would bet ever bigger on the outcome. It got real serious, too. A chump by the name of Chung Li got murdered one night because he defaulted on one payment too many. The police never got close to solving it because we closed ranks. But, between us, let me tell you that it's not a good idea to double-cross Yang Guo and his son, 'Crazy' Harry." "Then the war came. Ping Yuan cleaned up his act smartish and got himself enlisted early in 1942, and he was a good soldier for a time. He was real brave. He was doing really well and was decorated more than once." "How did he meet my mother?" asked Caitlin. "I'm coming to that," responded Huang Zi. "He took part in the D-Day landings in Normandy, in France," Huang Zi continued, "He was right in the front line. And that's how he got wounded. Heaven alone knows how the field surgeons managed to save his legs. But that was Wang Ping Yuan finished as a soldier." "He was sent back home and spent three months in hospital. Your mom was working as a nurse there." Marlene Wang took up the story. "He was in a really bad way. But he was also so handsome. I had to make him mine -- and I did." "We got married shortly after the war, and life was great for a time. He got himself a nice job and I was still working as a nurse. We were saving money. Then I got pregnant with you. He got scared, responsibility and all that. He'd go out drinking and he'd go out gambling all night. I got sick of him and left, but then he cleaned himself up once more and talked me into taking him back. And that was always the way. Like the black and white stones he liked to play with: he'd a be an angel for a time and the best husband in the world, then he'd go mixing with that 'gang' and Yang Guo's and blow his money on drink and betting. It fell to me to maintain some standards, to preserve some dignity. I learned Chinese and I maintained a good traditional household to make him happy, and to please his family. I tried my best to be a good wife to him and a good mother to you. He was a rascal." "But the worst of it happened when you were still little. I don't know all the details, but I believe he tried to underwrite a wager with our home. And this time, he lost the game." Huang Zi picked up the thread. "He didn't lose the game, in my view. Yang Guo pulled off something funny. Ping Yuan was drunker than usual, but still damn sharp, except he wasn't expecting Guo to play what I'd call 'creative' threats in the ko fight. What I mean is, he played valid moves, but surreptitiously changed the position of one or two of the other stones with his pinky. I was there. It barely registered on me while I was watching. No matter what the stakes, it was just not the kind of thing you expect to see. But I realised afterward. And so did Ping Yuan." "So, the next day, he refused to pay. Yang Guo gave him time to reconsider, but he kept on refusing." Marlene took up the story again. "And that's how we lost our home, though you barely would remember that, Caitlin. Ping Yuan ran away -- I think he's somewhere on the West Coast now -- and Yang Guo and his mob evicted us. We were taken in by one of your uncles for a time and then I got us our own apartment, right here. And I've heard nothing from either Wang Ping Yuan or Yang Guo since." END OF CHAPTER NINE CHAPTER TEN The next ten days passed so slowly and yet so quickly for Caitlin. There was the hard work of memorising games, of learning set phrases of Japanese, packing clothes and possessions, and seemingly endless visits to relatives. There were also the sweet hours spent with Peter, which seemed to end before they began. And then, one morning, of course, Huang Zi appeared with his uncle's truck, to take Caitlin and Marlene to La Guardia Airport. Peter appeared shortly afterward, and, with tears in his eyes, he helped Huang Zi to carry the Wangs' cases and other gear to the truck. It took two hours to complete check-in, and there was, for some undisclosed reason, a delay of one hour before the flight was called. At first, Caitlin and Peter savoured each other's company and were overjoyed at the delay, but as time went on, and the moment of departure drew nearer, they began to long to separate, so that the pain would pass and so that they could look forward to seeing each other again. Huang Zi kissed Marlene and, somewhat uncomfortably, shook Caitlin's hand, wishing them both happiness and good luck. Peter stared after Caitlin and Marlene as they went past the gate at the last moment. They exchanged one last look, and he melted into tears. Even now he understood fully the extent of his loss. Caitlin wept as she was guided into her seat by the matronly stewardess. She did not notice take-off, even though this was her first time in an aeroplane. Eventually, however, her stomach awakened her from the terrible trance of tears she had worked herself into. The motherly cabin lady had been watching her, and gently tapped hers shoulder. "Are alright now, Caitlin? Are you hungry?" Caitlin nodded her head, and wiped away tears with her sleeve. "What would you like to eat? You can have either a burger with fries or Japanese-style noodles." Caitlin chose the burger and fries. "And could you bring me another one of those sakes?" asked Marlene, who was already slight drunk. Caitlin ate her meal and began to feel a little better. She began to gaze out of the window, and she was fascinated by the brilliance of the light above the clouds, and indeed by the sheer strangeness of being above them. She was amazed by the variety of shapes and textures - some were massive like soft-edged icebergs, while others resembled fantastic animals and faces, and still others seemed like smoke rising from a fire. She noticed also the occasional shake of the aircraft and felt the powerful droning of the engines, endless and secure. And, at length, with her mother babbling drunkenly beside her, Caitlin drifted off. They landed, another six hours later, at Handeda airport. Although she had recovered somewhat, having fallen asleep, Marlene was a little unsteady, and her state made it difficult for the pair to make it past the immigration and customs officers. Caitlin was surprised at how quiet the airport seemed. She had been expecting hustle and bustle like that in the departure terminal of La Guardia, but the atmosphere here was oddly serene. Finally, the stepped out in the arrivals hall, which was rather busy. A small, grey-haired lady in a kimono stepped forward and bowed. "Hello, good afternoon. It is a pleasure to meet you Wang-san and Wang-chan," she said, in passable English, "I am Suzuki Keiko. I am matron to Takeshi-Sensei's household. Please be welcome to Japan." Marlene pushed Caitlin's head down, bowed a little unsteadily, and replied. "Hello, Mrs Suzuku. It is good to meet you, too." Suzuki blushed and giggled a little. "Suzuki," she said, correcting Marlene, "Anyway, please come with me." They pushed their luggage carts behind Suzuki. Despite her fatigue, Caitlin was fascinated by the new world she had landed in. It all seemed so much more orderly than home, and everybody looked so serious. Yet, the advertisements on the walls featured childish cartoon characters doing adult things, such as a yellow dog on a bicycle enjoying a Lucky 7 cigarette or a furry, kitten-like thing, which was bright pink and green, drinking Asahi super dry straight from the bottle. And, now and then, an elegant woman would pass by in kimono and clogs, fanning herself. Suzuki led them to her car and helped them load it with their things. "First, I take you to Takeshi-Sensei's house. We will make you comfortable Caitlin. Then, Takeshi-Sensei has promised to take you both for a meal." "That sounds swell," said Marlene. "Please understand," continued Suzuki, "That this is a very special honour. You are very special guests. Caitlin, you will be Takeshi-Sensei's first non-Japanese disciple." "You better behave yourself good, then, young lady," warned Marlene, completely forgetting that of the pair, she was the more like to commit an indisgression. And she would, too, for nobody had warned her in advance of the considerable powers of sake. They drove through the endless grey cityscape of rickety, boxlike buildings, which seemed to collide with one another under a sky of tangled telegraph wires. Eventually, they reached a slightly less congested neighbourhood, in which there were patches of grass and a few trees. Suzuki turned the car sharply down a narrow lane, and they pulled up before a large house, built in traditional Japanese style. "We are here," said Suzuki, "This is the house of Takeshi-Sensei." "It's grand!" exclaimed Marlene. Caitlin didn't know what to say. She remained silent. "I will take you to your apartment after we have settled Caitlin in," continued Suzuki, "It is only two minutes' walk away." A large man came out to meet them. Suzuki bowed and spoke gently. The man picked up Caitlin's cases and began carying them into the house. Suzuki bid them follow. Suzuki was impressed that both Caitlin and Marlene immediately reached down to remove their shoes upon stepping into the entrance. She smiled at them and bade them follow. The house smelled of incense and was surprisingly cool. Caitlin could hear the laughter of children coming from one of the rooms. Soon, they reached a small room, in which a western-style bed stood in one corner. On it lay a kimono, in rich blue silk. "That is a present from Takeshi-Sensei," said Suzuki, pointing to the kimono, "And this will be your room. I hope you like it here." "It is beautiful," said Caitlin, smiling for the first time. "Now, you please rest. It is 4 PM now. I will come back for you at 8 PM. If you need bathroom, it is across the corridor on your left. Please put on the kimono before I return." Suzuki turned away and Marlene began to follow. Then it struck both Americans that a phase of their lives had just ended. Already, Caitlin had left home. Marlene turned around and grasped her daughter, embracing her tightly. Caitlin cried. When Caitlin was alone, she sat down, suddenly remembering Peter again. She wept and then, exhausted, she slept. END OF CHAPTER TEN CHAPTER ELEVEN Caitlin came to with a start. She looked at her little travel clock - it was already 7.55 PM. She wanted to use the lavatory, but knew she had to get ready quickly, too. She slipped off her blouse and skirt, and tried to put on the kimono. It was easy enough to get her arms into the garment, but she had no idea how to fasten it up. No matter which way she folded it across her chest, it fell open again. She searched for buttons and strings, but could not find any. She saw the obi resting beside it, but could only hold it in her hands, wondering how on earth she was meant to put it on. Suzuki knocked on the door, then entered. She giggled when she saw the pretty half-Chinese girl standing in front of her, wrapped awkwardly in the silk robe. "Would you like a help?" asked Suzuki. Caitlin nodded. Suzuki rearranged the kimono and made her lift her arms. Then she picked up the obi and wound it around her waist, quickly and skilfully. Then she looked at Caitlin and shook her head. "Hmm, you look pretty but we must make your hair better." Suzuki slipped out of the room. Caitlin glanced into the mirror and caught sight of herself. Yes, her hair was ruffled from sleeping. She had never taken much interest in her hair up to now, but now she saw how out of keeping it was with the beautiful robes that she was wearing. Suzuki reappeared, carrying an ivory comb and some lacquered wooden pins. She bade Caitlin sit, and began combing her hair and fastening it in place with the pins. "There," said Suzuki with satisfaction, "You look like elegant lady now." Caitlin looked at herself in the mirror and became aware, for the first time, that she was beautiful. She had always been moved when Peter said it, but she never could believe it of herself. But now, standing in equisite costume with her hair deftly arranged, she could see that she was stunning. She was not beautiful in the ordinary way--her face was too assymetrical and angular for that--but she nevertheless was beautiful: her skin was pale and delicate, her nose was small and pretty, and her lips were full and shapely; but above all, her eyes, while deeply brown like the finest chocolate, sparkled. Who would resist her when she looked upon a person with those unique eyes? Marlene, too, was impressed when they met up again at Takeshi-sensei's dinner. She saw her daughter's beauty in its first adult splendour. Takeshi-sensei was rather tall for a Japanese. He was built like a bear, too, and at the sleeves and collar of his shirt thick black hairs were visible. He was nothing like the small, wiry old man that Caitlin had pictured in her imagination. Takeshi-sensei may have looked like a brute of a man, but his behaviour was as suave as that of a movie idol. He greeted the two women in English, and delicately kissed each on the right hand. Caitlin trembled a little: this was so different from Peter's gaucheness. Marlene, also, was excited. This man was like Ping Yuan at his best, but still better-looking and smoother, too. They were joined by Suzuki, and by two teenage boys. Takeshi introduced them as Yamada Satoru and Kobayashi Kenzo, and explained that they were his senior disciples. Kobayashi was a pleasant-looking young man, with a kind face. Yamada, in contrast, was old-looking before his time and he stank of cigarettes. While Kobayashi simply bowed politely to both Marlene and Caitlin, Yamada leered at Caitlin for a long second before nodding curtly. Takeshi led the party around the corner and to a building adorned with red lanterns. A dark blue flag, decorated with a sakura design, fluttered across the entrance in the late summer breeze. They were greeted by an elderly woman clad in a scarlet kimono, and led to a low table. Presently, several flasks of hot sake were brought to the table. Takeshi poured cups for each of the company, and Suzuki, finally, poured a cup for him. The hostess brought food to the party. Much of it was unfamiliar to Caitlin, who had grown up with Marlene's attempts at Szechuan cuisine and who preferred burgers, fries and chilli. She liked the tempura, and thought miso soup wasn't bad, but some of the vegetables were too tangy for her taste. Meanwhile, Yamada alternated between slurping noodles messily and staring at her lustfully. Caitlin found him disgusting. He spoke to her a couple of times, each time smirking and grunting lasciviously, but Caitlin was pleased that she could not understand him. In her mind's eye, she foresaw herself giving him a good slap across the face before too long. The others were delightful, on the other hand. Takeshi kept inquiring if Caitlin and Marlene had had enough of each dish, and he kept them both well-supplied with hot sake. Caitlin paced herself, having read somewhere about its potency, and, of course, not being used to drinking. Marlene, on the other hand, took full advantage of Takeshi's generosity, and before long she was laughing too loudly and upsetting various things on the table. Takeshi and Suzuki smiled indulgently, although they both privately thought that she was disgracing herself. Caitlin was not too worried, though, as she had seen Marlene far, far drunker. Then, it happened. As they were making their way back to Takeshi's residence, Yamada sidled up to Caitlin and tried to grope her. She yelled in rage, and caught him a sharp blow on the cheek. The dirty grin was still frozen on his face when Takeshi turned round to see what had happened. A moment later, Yamada starting shouting and cursing at Caitlin in Japanese. "That bitch!" he screamed, "Did you see what that dirty Chinese dog-woman did?" Marlene, suddenly sober and terrifying in her anger, grabbed Yamada and screamed at him in English. Yamada shrunk back, trying to get out of her grasp as she began to thrash him with the handbag. It had never occurred to him before that women could hit back. "I don't know what you're saying, mister," she yelled, "But I know you did something bad!" Takeshi had turned purple with embarrassment, while Suzuki tried to talk to Caitlin, who was now crying. Kobayashi, meanwhile, separated the spitting Marlene and the cowering Yamada. And so began perhaps the bitterest rivalry ever in go. When the incident had been investigated, Takeshi disowned Yamada as his disciple, but, in view of his undeniably exceptional ability, graciously arranged for him to study with another well-known professional. Yamada never forgot the way Caitlin and Marlene had humiliated him and was determined to block her at every turn. Caitlin, in return, conceived a passionate hatred for him which she began to channel into an almost demonic power of concentration and endurance. She was already capable of being ruthless, but this outrage created within her an altogether new force, and Yamada would not be its only victim. END OF CHAPTER TEN CHAPTER ELEVEN TO BE CONTINUED TO BE CONTINUED --- READERS' EDITORIAL NOTES Tristan: Writing a story is a bit like telling lies. It's easy to get into a tangle. So, if you spot any loose threads or holes in the plot, please point them out here. Likewise, please use this space to point out any inconsistencies of style and characterisation. Please do not make general comments; the A Cautionary Tale Discussion page is for that. Minor issue in chapter five: "Take her to Japan?" cried Marlene, "I don't want her setting foot there. Don't you know what the Japanese did to Marlene's grandfather? Don't you?" It reads as if Marlene is talking in the third person... Also, maybe the second and third sentences will sound more natural (as an American) if Marlene used "do you" instead of "don't you". Please consider changing the "Jumping Jehesophat" exclamation used by the math teacher. I cringed when I read it. Please consider altering the Pak's to Park's. I know there are Paks but Park is more common. Or maybe you should just change it to something that is easier to recognize as a Korean surname... like Kim or something. Also the character named Mok... I don't think Mok Pak is a common Korean name (I'm Korean). Maybe you were thinking of Mok Jinsuk?, but even then Mok is his surname. [1] To be sure, the small knight's enclosure from the star point is no longer novel, its having been popularised by Kobayashi Koichi, but this was the late 1950s, and IIRC this move was considered a slightly suboptimal way of developing a star point. [2] Not our friend, fellow deshi Andrew Grant, but a former president of the USA! This is a copy of the living page "A Cautionary Tale" at Sensei's Library. ![]() |