Chapter 26 Present Day
PRESENT DAY
OSCAR
Buki gave a short bark and pawed at the seat, urging them onward on this venture.
Oscar smiled at his co-pilot’s encouragement, but his emotions still seemed be in a jumbled mess.
Perhaps because of the unknown he faced, both the fear and excitement of starting anew, or maybe he was still raw from Caroline’s betrayal.
His thoughts zipped in and out and jammed together, like the traffic on the California freeway.
He sighed, homesick for the ease and simple life in Missoula.
School, kendo, and Caroline…his life had all been so routine and comfortable.
Oscar knew he was still grieving the loss of their relationship, and he hated the loneliness.
“What would I do without you, Buk?”
Buki danced in his seat, then placed his front paws on the center console and gave Oscar two quick, wet kisses on his ear. Oscar put his arm around the dog and snuggled him into his neck. “Love you too, Buk.”
After leaving the Hoshed Winery, confusion about his identity occupied Oscar’s thoughts.
Once he’d broken through the crusty exterior, Dennis Hoshed turned out to be a decent guy.
After the tour and sitting together in his office, Dennis realized that Oscar really wanted nothing more than to connect with his biological roots.
Certain Oscar didn’t want money, Dennis had even invited him to stay for dinner and spend the night, which Oscar declined but promised to keep in touch.
As they sat in Dennis’s office, it became clear why he had recognized Oscar’s genetic features straight away.
The portrait of Jean-Maurice Hoshed that hung behind Dennis’s desk couldn’t have made it clearer.
By adding twenty or thirty years, some forehead wrinkles, a bit of gray in the hair, and a bushy mustache, it could have been Oscar sitting for the portrait.
He and Jean-Maurice shared the same definitive hairline, thick dark hair, strong jaw, and full eyebrows over dark piercing eyes set with a contemplative gaze.
Seated at the mahogany desk that Dennis used today, Oscar’s great-great-grandfather wore an expensive-looking, vested black suit over a white shirt with high stand collar and matching dark neck tie and pocket square. With his good looks and success, no wonder he had so easily spread his seed.
Dennis said he didn’t have the time or interest to search his ancestral roots beyond Jean-Maurice, but he thought the Hoschedés may have been a prominent family in France until a sudden misfortune of finances.
With his attention focused on operating the winery, Dennis had never attempted to dig into his family history, but he asked Oscar to share anything noteworthy he discovered.
The financial ruin part of his family story disappointed Oscar, as he already felt he’d been born under an unlucky star of love.
He’d just have to believe that his mother was right…
that life was full of challenges…for everyone, and the reason people turned to their faith as the only way to hold on to hope.
Oscar understood that his essence came from the dominant influences of both his nurture and his genetics—two powerful streams flowing together to make one blended river.
He just wished his river wasn’t so muddied.
The answer to the question, “Why am I like this?” floated somewhere in those waters, and maybe that’s where the search stopped for him.
After all, Oscar had no intention of going to France anytime soon to continue the search for his lineage.
* * *
Oscar pulled up to the address that Doctor Jō had provided, got out of the car, stretched, and looked around.
He’d prefer to live by himself, but he couldn’t pass up free rent.
Buki had moved to the driver’s seat waiting for instructions.
“Thank God, they allowed me to bring you!” he said, patting the dog’s head.
Oscar studied the house. When Doctor Jō had told him he’d stay with three other kendo instructors, Oscar figured it would be a cramped apartment. He never imagined such a nice house.
“We’re going to live like kings,” he said to Buki who barked affirmatively.
It was also clear why the city had named the neighborhood Panoramic Hill. Located adjacent to the University of California, the site overlooked Berkeley and, most impressively, the East Bay. As the sun rested on the horizon, the red Golden Gate Bridge glowed in the distance.
Oscar looked back up at the house to see a young Japanese man come out the front door and walk down the steps. “You no park,” he barked, waving him away. “You go away.”
Oscar quickly retrieved his phone from the car and pulled up the text message from Doctor Jō, thinking he read it wrong.
“You no speaky English,” the man said with a strong Japanese accent.
Oscar reread the message and then looked past the man at the numbers on the house. The numbers matched, and by the time he looked back, the angry man was smiling.
“Gotcha, huh!” he said in perfect English and laughed. “I’m Joseph. We’ve been waiting for you and our new house pet. Welcome to kendōka no, house of kendo,” he said and bent down to look at Buki who looked back at him. “I bet your pup is ready to get out of the car. Can I meet him?”
Oscar stood aside and invited Buki out. Buki instantly leaped to Oscar’s side and sat with his happy, fluffy tail sweeping the sidewalk.
“Looks like he’s pretty well-mannered,” Joseph smiled.
Oscar gave Buki a hand signal to spin in circles and then made two fingers into an imaginary pistol and fired a pretend shot.
Buki instantly stopped and rolled onto his back with all fours toward the sky, whimpering slightly.
“Good boy. Now hup.” Oscar patted his thigh, and Buki jumped back to a heel.
Joseph laughed. “He’ll fit right in,” he said and knelt to pet the dog. “What’s his name?”
“The markings on his face look like a kabuki mask, so I call him Buki.”
“Aren’t you a fine-looking pup,” Joseph said and received a wet lick on the face. “And fast,” Joseph chuckled and wiped his cheek with his sleeve. He stood and extended his hand to Oscar. “Welcome to Berkeley.”
Oscar shook his hand and looked up at the house again. “This is an amazing place.”
“Yes, aren’t we fortunate? It also has a great fenced backyard for the pup.
” He nodded at Buki. “When Doctor Jō came to Berkeley in the ’50s to start the martial arts program, he had the foresight to buy a couple houses in the area.
I heard he paid around thirty for this one.
Now you can’t touch houses on the hill for under two million. ”
“Amazing. Is everyone who lives here a kendōka?” Oscar asked.
“At your service,” Joseph said with a kind smile. “Come on in and meet everyone. We can help you with your stuff before practice in forty-five minutes.”
Oscar reached into the car and pulled out the sword his father had given him. “You mind if I bring this inside?”
Joseph’s eyes widened and he made the shape of an O with his mouth. He exhaled an animated breath. “Are you an iaido practitioner as well?”
“It’s a long story, but I just met my biological father, and he gifted me this sword. My great-grandfather...” Oscar stopped mid-sentence, not knowing the polite way to talk about a sword that had been captured in Japan. Instead, he held it out for Joseph to inspect.
Joseph grimaced. Placing his hands over Oscar’s, he turned the sword horizontal with the handle to Oscar’s left, adjusted Oscar’s hands to the corrected position and pulled his fingers open so it rested on his palms. “There. That is how you present a katana,” Joseph said with a smile and without malice.
“The bushidō code, the samurai’s code of honor, had a significant influence on katana etiquette—honor, loyalty, and self-discipline are reflected in the sword’s handling.
For samurai, the sword was not just a weapon but embodied their soul and their code of honor. ”
Then he took the sword in a likewise fashion and gave it a slight head bow. “You keep your eyes on mine as you bow as a sign of respect…and to make sure that I’m not going to lop off your head,” he laughed.
Oscar apologized, “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know…”
“That is for your instructor to teach you. I think you are in the right place,” Joseph interrupted.
“Are you one of the instructors?”
Joseph smiled, and his eyes lit up. “Yes, of course. I am the chief instructor under Doctor Jō.”
Perspiration broke out on Oscar’s forehead. What a stupid idiot I am. “I am so sorry, Sensei. I should have known,” he said and bowed deeply.
Joseph laughed loudly. “You can leave that for the dōjō. We’re pretty informal outside of the school.” He looked around, holding the sword to his side. “We don’t want the neighbors to think we are some sort of fanatics,” he laughed again. “Come meet the others.” He started for the stairs.
As Oscar followed Joseph with Buki at his side, he saw two people at the top of the steps, and he wondered if they too were instructors.
One was a tall, muscular young man, and the other was a short, tiny woman; both appeared to be Japanese.
The man towered over the girl with a considerable height difference.
“Oscar, this is Ashley and Tom.”
Oscar bowed awkwardly and shook their hands.
“Which one of these two do you think is this year’s All Japan Champion?” Joseph asked.
Oscar frowned. The obvious choice was the tall, muscular young man to win the most prestigious kendo event in the world. “Both?” he said, hedging his bet.
“Aw, good answer. But it’s Ashley.”
Oscar bowed to her. “Wow, congratulations.” He also knew that only fifth-Dan and higher in rank competed at the All Japan Championship.
“This is our new Gaijin?” she smirked. “Doctor Jō did not mention he so handsome!” She had a strong Japanese accent. “And he has cute dog.” She bent and let Buki kiss her neck.
Oscar’s cheeks flushed at the compliment and the slang term for “white guy.”
Then she said something in Japanese to the others that made them laugh.
Joseph looked at Oscar and smiled. “She said that all the pretty girls will want to see your dog and your sword.”
Oscar looked at his katana in Joseph’s hand and felt proud, until he realized the innuendo and blushed brilliantly.
“Aww…Look. I’ve embarrassed the boy. I just hope you can cook,” Ashley laughed and walked into the house with Buki at her heels.
Joseph waited until she was inside.
“She’s harmless,” he explained, “until you put a shinai in her hands. We call her the cobra because of her strike. She’s not even five feet tall, but she will kick your butt.
Speaking of which…” he said and looked at his watch.
“We better get Buki settled, put your gear inside, and head to practice.”
* * *
On the walk to practice, Oscar had learned that both Tom and Ashley had come from Japan for the kendo and graduate school at Doctor Jō’s invitation—Tom in Chemistry and Ashley in Engineering.
Joseph was second generation, Japanese American, and besides being the chief instructor, taught law at Berkeley.
All three had their fifth-degree black belt in kendo and in iaido, the practice with a real sword.
Joseph was given his name by his parents, but Ashley volunteered that both she and Tom took on Americanized names to make it easier on everyone around them.
“I got tired of people butchering my Japanese name,” Ashley had said.
When Oscar asked if it bothered them to take an English name, she shrugged. “No, I love the name Ashley.”
Oscar looked at Tom, a man of few words who just smiled and said, “Tom Cruise.”
Coming from the Missoula club where, on a good night, there were twenty kendo practitioners, Oscar was exhilarated to be walking to the rec center in Berkeley with three high-ranking instructors and entering a gymnasium with well over a hundred kendōkas dressed in their kendo uniforms, keiko-gis and hakamas.
When they bowed at the door to the gym, Doctor Jō rushed over.
Oscar felt like the prodigal son, returning home after wantonly wandering the countryside.
But the old master was happy to see him.
After Oscar bowed to him, Doctor Jō put his arm around his shoulders like a loving father and introduced him to the entire group as his “Montana grizzly bear.” Doctor Jō seemed to take great delight in this appellation because the mascot of the University of California, Berkeley, was a bear.
He also reminded them of the new graphics work Oscar had done for the school.
As friendly and unassuming as his three new roommates were at the house, once in the dōjō, it became a different story. This was the advanced class, for first-degree black belts and above, and all were serious about their practice, respect, and etiquette.
Once the entire class donned their kendo bogu—helmet, body armor, and forearm and hand protection—the fun began.
Even though he’d practiced for a few years, on this night Oscar felt like a beginner with the shinai.
When the last half of hour went to free-style combat practice, ji-geiko, all three of his roommates took a turn with him.
Joseph was lightning fast but patient and ready to teach, Tom at six-five had an impossible reach to defend against, and Ashley was every bit the fighter Joseph had described.
She thumped him at will with speed, accuracy, and power that he’d hardly ever experienced, and to make matters worse, she often sneered at him when she struck him particularly hard.
Doctor Jō paced around the room during the practice and adjusted an arm here or a foot there, and even took a turn at sparring with Oscar to both the delight of the other students and the humbling of Oscar.
At the end of an hour and a half of intense practice, Joseph led the group in the closing ceremony of kneeling in seiza, removing their bogu, spending a moment in meditation, and bowing to both Doctor Jō and the front of the dōjō.
Then, in silence, each practitioner carefully folded their uniform as an honor and meditative practice.
Sweat dripped down Oscar’s neck and back.
It was just what he needed—an intense period of focus, physical exertion, loud kiais, and spirited striking to quench his mental frustration at the world and his life.
And when Doctor Jō invited him along with his roommates to come to his home for dinner, Oscar knew he was right where he belonged for the moment.