茶道 – Sado – Way of tea

Mr. Tatsuya Suzuki, the current voluntary Go instructor on the club, leads us to a small room apart from the tournament, which I immediately identify as a ceremonial tea room. Mr. Suzuki points to a door, which we must enter, then he walks down the corridor so he may enter through the other door of the room.

"Where is he going?"

"He's going to get ready for tea."

"Is that really necessary?"

"Yep, take off your shoes."

"Why?" McGee is cute when he is pouting, but now it's not the time for it.

"Because it's impolite to dirty the tatamis with our dirty shoes, and it is also a sign of respect. We are being given a great honor, we should enjoy it at its fullest extent."

We enter silently the square room through the Nijiri-guchi, bowing slightly at the threshold to enter - in a symbolic gesture of humility. I silently point to McGee one of the tatamis of the floor, the Kinin-Datami, which is always chosen for the main guest, right beside the small alcove named Tokonoma 床の間 where the only piece of decoration hangs, a small scroll painting in beautiful elegant lines, the Kakejiku 掛軸.

I sit on the traditional way kneeling on the floor and resting my buttocks on my heels, and sign to McGee to do the same, but with his back to the Kakejiku, in order to indicate that he is the honor guest to our host, Mr. Suzuki, according to the traditional ritual of tea. He cringes as he folds his long legs in the uncomfortable position, and fidgets until he finally thinks he is able to withstand more than three minutes sitting on his folded legs.

Mr. Suzuki enters, shoeless and in traditional clothing, followed by Mrs. Itomi who introduced us to him; Mr. Suzuki sits on the traditional way on the Kayoi Datami while Itomi acts as tea master and goes to the Temaé Datami and starts the delicate process of preparing the tea.

Mr. Suzuki sits there without moving a muscle; I breathe deeply to endure the silence while the woman prepares the tea, I sense McGee starting to fidget impatiently on my side. I immediately glare at him who is starting to speak, but he somehow senses my glare at him and turns his head to look at me.

I glare at him and try to silently communicate that he has to stay silent. I see right away when the message is received, as he immediately blushes and glances apologetic at Mr. Suzuki, trying to accommodate his long legs under him in the uncomfortable position we're in.

When I look again at Mr. Suzuki, I notice that he hasn't moved a muscle; there's no expression on his face, but I really can't shake the feeling that he is laughing at us.

I really hate when people have better poker faces than mine.

The woman silently stirs the tea in graceful movements which are very similar to poetry, and it is ready we're given the chawan with the hot tea in it. I glance at McGee and show him the proper way of holding the bowl with tea, receiving it with the right hand while the left palm is under it.

Then I rotate the chawan clockwise three times and wait until McGee does the same thing. Once he is done, I smile and start sipping the fragrant green tea, closing my eyes to the stringent bittersweet taste of Sencha. I'm temporarily transported to eventual tea nights out with Special Agent Dimitri Korcevic after a hard case, when I dragged my old supervisor to a relaxing evening away from the gore and death we had to face daily and sought catharsis of our lives observing the simply and elegant movements of the tea master who lived just a couple of miles out of Los Angeles.

I feel the prickling of tears as I'm again reminded of the life I've put behind me, but I sigh deeply to calm myself. I finish my tea, wiping the part of the chawan touched my lips with my right hand, before I rotate the chawan counterclockwise and return it to our host, bowing lightly as a gesture of thanks for being offered such great honor.

The tea master bows towards me, and after she puts away my chawan she waits to McGee to follow the same little ritual and give his to her as well. Itomi then bows twice, and walks silently out of the tea room, leaving Mr. Suzuki and us submersed in silence.

I feel McGee's eyes on me, but I don't fall into the temptation of looking at him, staring into Mr. Suzuki's face which, I have to admit, is truly inscrutable.

Finally he moves, folding his hands placidly over his legs, "I see you are aware of our customs and rituals."

"I've attended tea ceremonies before."

Mr. Suzuki nods, taking in the information I've just gave him, "Why do you seek Mr. Nihara?"

"We're investigators from the Navy in America. A Naval officer was brutally killed and our investigation has leaded us to Mr. Nihara."

Mr. Suzuki nods slowly, "If you are here, it means that William Travis is dead."

McGee and I look at each other, surprised that Mr. Suzuki could guess who our dead petty officer was.

"Have you met Petty Officer Travis? We've never told you whose death we're investigating."" McGee says, sitting sideways so his butt is finally on the tatami, not over his heels. I smile as I see how he sighs relieved of getting the pressure off of his feet.

"Yes, I've met Petty Officer Travis. I and Mr. Nihara trained him in Go. Great promise. But he was blindsided by his heart."

"I don't understand. What has happened?"

Mr. Suzuki nods slowly, looking away from us towards the beautiful garden outside, muttering in a soft voice 眼に嬉し恋君の扇真白なる 蕪村"me ni ureshi koigimi no ôgi masshiro naru"

"What's that supposed to mean?" McGee is as confused as me.

"It's a poem. It means 'how beautiful is, using the white fan, the one I love.'" I say, translating the small haikai.

Mr. Suzuki looks at us again, "It wasn't a storm, but a small drizzle that destroyed the walls around the heart of the man. It all started with a game of go..."

NCIS NCIS NCIS NCIS

Three hours later, the night was already firmly set over Tokyo when we leave the Go club and say our goodbyes to Mr. Suzuki.

We breathe deeply the chilly night air, as the wind starts blowing over us indicating the incoming snow.

"What time is it in DC right now?" McGee asks, as we slowly walk down the road towards the avenue, where we can take a taxi towards Yokosuka, then finally our hotel.

"Seven am. Gibbs probably is already in the office."

"We have to talk to Gibbs."

I sigh loudly, wondering how complicated things have become just in the last hour.

"Yeah, we have to talk to Gibbs."