"If there is universal good, it is not an abstract concept. It is in the hearts and minds of men and women. And if it is, so is evil."
I'm staring at the rushing water below, as the ship cuts through the waves. I should be looking up at the harbour, taking in the lights of the approaching city, but my gaze is drawn to the dark blue canvas, darker than the night around.
My eyes scan the surface, my mind searches for the answers in the depth. I am deliberately looking away from the city, for I intend to avoid its sight. An uneasy feeling grips me and I can't help but think that something bad is going to happen.
Such notions are foolish, of course. I shake myself up, chasing away shadows of doubt and worry with a breath of fresh, cold air. It's all nerves, I tell myself, I am simply exhausted from my travels. I haven't been home for nearly four years, and I don't know what to expect.
Our vessel dips ever slightly and a shower of drops covers my head. I lick my lips – salty. The city's lights beckon me, but I ask myself again – is there a reason for me to come back here?
I look up at the skyline ahead. How will I be met? What will I see when I get back? Somehow I feel I left all that was dear to me behind and am now alien to all of it. I've kept in touch with most of my friends and relatives, doing my best to stay current on things at home and informing them of my progress. But it so happens that in order to maintain contact one needs to be in fairly close proximity. Other more immediate tasks take priority and you find yourself calling and replying to letters less and less. Who'd have thought it.
Parents took it well. More than well, for they were happy to see me out exploring the world. Of course, they were just as happy to finally see me "out of the nest" and on my own. Can't say I blame them. They took to traveling themselves now, taking regular week long trips wherever there were airports, beaches, good drinks and good food. I'm happy for them, they earned it.
My brother didn't mind my wanderlust either. He'd gotten himself a wife and a daughter and was happily building his own family. I'd met him a few times over the years, whenever I'd get a chance to drag him away and out to whereever it was I stayed at the time.
I wish I could say the situation with my friends was just as well.
My girlfriend broke up with me through a letter and it was then, after a few similarly "inspiring" events, that I decided to prolong my travels. That was three years ago.
I've learned of my best friend's marriage a month after the invitation was sent to my old address. He's a good sport and went out to visit me. We celebrated in a small bar in Naha, and I gave him a katana as a wedding gift. Not the kind that hangs on the wall, but the kind that a performing chef uses to cut oranges on your stomach.
My college "crew" – forever my brothers and sisters, that shared all triumphs, losses and hardships of our program - all went their ways. It's natural and not a threat to our brotherhood – or is it sisterhood? - for we have vowed to meet every year at a new place. But I begin to think it is not to last either, since more people have been finding excuses not to show up.
Sensei, my mentor and my second father, I haven't spoken to for nearly four years. Though I've tried to stay in touch with some of the others from the dojo, I've managed to avoid contact with him. I tell myself it's unintentional, but can't help feel that it's a lie.
I've met people during my travels. Various people, good and bad, different from each other and not so much. I've learned things and I've done my job – one of the things I love, so I'm blessed. I have enough saved to settle down. I don't own any property and most of my things travel with me. I tell myself it was natural to go out and explore the world like I did, and I loved every second of it. But there is no place like home.
Recently I began to have thoughts of changing the scenery yet again. I'd pick a new destination, pack up and leave – people of my profession are needed everywhere. This time, without thinking much about it, I found myself returning to Fairport. I guess it was time I came back. And now that I am, I fear I am unwelcome. What's worse is that I am certain it is all my fault, as if I've abandoned them all somehow.
Who will I find here? Few know of my return after all this time. Parents are in France somewhere, my brother is in Canada. Apart from old memories, there is nothing and no one for me in Fairport.
So why am I here?