#9

Rakan-ji Temple

Late June 1943

At dinner time, Makiguchi led the four army men – Sendoh, Toranosuke and the two privates - into the eating hall. It was a basic wooden cabin erected near the monk's sleeping quarters and kitchens. It was furnished with long, wooden tables and uncomfortable benches, seating ten or twelve monks each. From a door at the back, the monks who worked in the kitchens were bringing steaming bowls of plain white rice and a dish of boiled green vegetables. It was hot inside, for there was no breeze.

Makiguchi indicated that they should sit with him at one of the tables and a few of the monks glanced up briefly at their approach.

"It is unusual to have visitors," Makiguchi said with a smile. "Some of the youngsters will be eager to talk to you, no doubt."

Sendoh was impressed that Makiguchi ate together with the rest of the monks. He spotted the abbot at the further side of the room too. It seemed everyone was equal in this regard. There was no special treatment at dinner time.

They sat, and bowls of rice were immediately put before them, along with the vegetables they were to share.

"Hello Marshal, Captain Sendoh..." the monk opposite them spoke up and Sendoh realised he was a familiar face. The monk's eyes glittered with good humour, "...Private Mitsui."

"Kogure-san," Sendoh greeted with a nod. Mitsui looked down at his bowl and said nothing, his face slightly red. A little rude, Sendoh felt with a frown, although Kogure didn't seem to mind.

A little way down their bench, a number of young novices were openly staring at them. They were children, some as young as seven. One boy had flecks of white rice around his mouth. Sendoh smiled at them, but they turned away nervously, shifting in their dark robes. They looked like miniature versions of the adult monks around them.

Most of these boys are given to the temple in childhood, Sendoh recalled. Or they are abandoned here. This is their only home.

Toranosuke cleared his throat. "So," he began in his usual drawling voice, looking around the room critically. "You all eat together at dinner time, do you?"

Makiguchi gave a pleasant nod. "Most of the adult monks only take one meal each day. Some who are unwell, or assigned to more strenuous work, may take more. And of course the younger monks are provided with additional meals. They are growing boys, you see."

Toranosuke sniffed disdainfully. "Rice and vegetables hardly constitutes a meal for growing boys."

Makiguchi inclined his head. "We eat simply," he explained patiently. "And, as you know, we do not eat meat."

"But I remember you showed me the monks harvesting aubergines this afternoon," Toranosuke persisted. "Will they not be served with dinner today?"

Sendoh couldn't help the flush of embarrassment he felt at the rudeness of his uncle's enquiries.

"There is a small village, at the base of the mountain," Makiguchi replied. "Most of the young men have left to join the war, and the villagers are having some trouble maintaining their fields. Some novices took the aubergines there earlier. The villagers have more need of them than we do."

Sendoh raised his eyebrows.

What do the Chinese eat? Mostly nothing, Sir.

He closed his eyes. A momentary feeling of contentment passed over him. He had been wrong. Perhaps there was something about this place. He could come to like it, even. With every passing breath, he realised he liked it more.

"Thank you for this blessing," he heard the monks mutter with every mouthful they brought to their lips. "Thank you for this blessing."

Toranosuke was eyeing the food sceptically and scowling to himself.

Sendoh smiled as he picked up his own eating sticks. "Thank you for this blessing," he echoed, and closed his lips around plain rice. It seemed to him then like the most delicious thing he'd ever eaten.

The monks carefully cleaned every grain of rice from their bowls, and as the meals finished, conversations began to start up in pockets of the room.

A few of the young novices drifted ever closer in curiosity, and were both painfully shy and painfully eager to touch the shiny buckles on Mitsui's boots and jacket. Kogure was watching in amusement.

Makiguchi turned to Sendoh. "Well," he said, "I understand you are something of a hero, Captain. Your uncle was telling me of your military achievements this morning."

Ordinarily, Sendoh wouldn't have read anything into such a statement. Discussion of medals and stories of valour were common enough. But considering that this man was leading the largest anti-war movement in Japan, Sendoh couldn't help but wonder if there wasn't a slyness in his words. Yet his eyes were kindly, and his posture showed interest.

Sendoh hesitated. "There are a thousand heroes in our army," he said finally. "I am nothing in particular."

Toranosuke grunted at his modesty. "Tell them about Han River," he interjected. "How you won the Medal of Valour."

Sendoh raised his eyes questioningly to Makiguchi who nodded encouragingly. Even the two privates had leaned forward in curiosity. He realised that the young monks were already finding places to sit on the floor nearby and seemed to be waiting for a story. It was one he had recounted several times before, although it was hard to say how it would be received by such an audience. Would they understand it at all?

For a moment he bit his lip. Then, he began to speak.

~tbc