"Oh, no, Anjin-san. Japanese is very simple to speak compared with other languages. There are no articles, no 'the,' 'a,' or 'an.' No verb conjugations or infinitives. All verbs are regular, ending in masu, and you can say almost everything by using the present tense only, if you want. For a question just add ka after the verb. For a negative just change masu to masen. What could be easier? Yukimasu means I go, but equally you, he, she, it, we, they go, or will go, or even could have gone. Even plural and singular nouns are the same. Tsuma means wife, or wives. Very simple."
"Well, how do you tell the difference between I go, yukimasu, and they went, yukimasu?"
"By inflection, Anjin-san, and tone. Listen: yukimasu - yukimasu. "
"But these both sounded exactly the same."
"Ali, Anjin-san, that's because you're thinking in your own language. To understand Japanese you have to think Japanese. Don't forget our language is the language of the infinite. It's all so simple, Anjin-san. Just change your concept of the world. Japanese is just learning a new art, detached from the world . . . . It's all so simple."
"It's all shit," he had muttered in English, and felt better.
"What? What did you say?"
"Nothing. But what you say doesn't make sense."
"Learn the written characters," Mariko had said.
"I can't. It'll take too long. They're meaningless."
"Look, they're really simple pictures, Anjin-san. The Chinese are very clever. We borrowed their writing a thousand years ago. Look, take this character, or symbol, for a pig."
"It doesn't look like a pig."
"Once it did, Anjin-san. Let me show you. Here. Add a 'roof' symbol over a 'pig' symbol and what do you have?"
"A pig and a roof."
"But what does that mean? The new character?"
"I don't know."
"'Home.' In the olden days the Chinese thought a pig under a roof was home. They're not Buddhists, they're meat eaters, so a pig to them, to peasants, represented wealth, hence a good home. Hence the character."
"But how do you say it?"
"That depends if you're Chinese or Japanese."
"Oh ko!"
"Oh ko, indeed," she had laughed. "Here's another character. A 'roof' symbol and a 'pig' symbol and a 'woman' symbol. A 'roof' with two 'pigs' under it means 'contentment.' A 'roof' with two 'women' under it equals 'discord.' Neh?"
"Absolutely!"
"Of course, the Chinese are very stupid in many things and their women are not trained as women are here. There's no discord in your home, is there?"
Blackthorne thought about that now, on the twelfth day of his rebirth. No. There was no discord. But neither was it a home. Fujiko was only like a trustworthy housekeeper and tonight when he went to his bed to sleep, the futons would be turned back and she would be kneeling beside them patiently, expressionlessly. She would be dressed in her sleeping kimono, which was similar to a day kimono but softer and with only a loose sash instead of a stiff obi at the waist.
"Thank you, Lady," he would say. "Good night."
She would bow and go silently to the room across the corridor, next to the one Mariko slept in. Then he would get under the fine silk mosquito net. He had never known such nets before. Then he would lie back happily, and in the night, hearing the few insects buzzing outside, he would dwell on the Black Ship, how important the Black Ship was to Japan.
Without the Portuguese, no trade with China. And no silks for clothes or for nets. Even now, with the humidity only just beginning, he knew their value.
If he stirred in the night a maid would open the door almost instantly to ask if there was anything he wanted. Once he had not understood. He motioned the maid away and went to the garden and sat on the steps, looking at the moon. Within a few minutes Fujiko, tousled and bleary, came and sat silently behind him.
"Can I get you anything, Lord?"
"No, thank you. Please go to bed."
She had said something he did not understand. Again he had motioned her away so she spoke sharply to the maid, who attended her like a shadow. Soon Mariko came.
"Are you all right, Anjin-san?"
"Yes. I don't know why you were disturbed. Christ Jesus - I'm just looking at the moon. I couldn't sleep. I just wanted some air."
Fujiko spoke to her haltingly, ill at ease, hurt by the irritation in his voice. "She says you told her to go back to sleep. She just wanted you to know that it's not our custom for a wife or consort to sleep while her master's awake, that's all, Anjin-san."
"Then she'll have to change her custom. I'm often up at night. By myself. It's a habit from being at sea - I sleep very lightly ashore."
"Yes, Anjin-san."
