It’s the Wood That Should Fear You
“Rise and let me look at your ridiculous face.” The master was not known for his geniality. The student lay prostrate with her chest burning of exertion. Her arms were bruised from combat. Her legs felt as though they were weighted by boulders. She could see the pool of blood and sweat forming just beneath her. She inhaled sharply and it felt as though a thousand pieces of glass were tearing her lungs up. The master grew impatient. “Rise now. I grow weary of your exhaustion.”
Adaora Nakamura was the love child of a strange pairing — “Fast” Freddy Nakamura and Chinyere Iheoma. Fast Freddy was a rising star of the furious seven crime organization. Freddy earned his nickname in a cowboy -style duel with Beebee Nagasaki, a member of the rival 88s, over a poker game. Beebee earned his nickname by killing his mother’s pimp with a BB gun when he was thirteen. Despite his skill, before Beebee could even think about pulling his gun, Freddy splattered his brains into a thousand pieces. Standing before his vanquished opponent, Freddy taunted all of Kyoto saying this is what it looked like when someone spoke without thinking.
Many called Chinyere the Lotus of Lagos. Despite the negative perception of Nigerians in Japan, her beauty had won her social cachet. Her parents had arrived in Tokyo as migrant laborers in the eighties, and now although Yakuza bosses fought for her admiration. She wasn’t attracted to dangerous men as much as she was attracted to their lifestyle. Freddy rented out the entire restaurant the first time he took her out. He said he didn’t want to share her beauty with anyone else.
Inhale. Breathe in strength. She was trying to steady her breath to calm herself. She sat cross legged, watching the nurse prepare the implement on the flame. Exhale. Breathe out fear. She knew she had fought hard today, but still it wasn’t enough. Inhale. Breathe in strength. She felt like she wasn’t progressing fast enough. Her creeping pace of progress made her question whether she was still her father’s daughter. Exhale. Breathe out…Arghhh. The nurse pressed the metal against her cheekbone cauterizing the wound the master had dealt her. After bandaging the scar, the nurse looked at the student: “You should be proud. You did not earn your beauty. You have earned this scar.”
Since his mouth often moved faster than his trigger finger, Freddy found himself with many enemies. That was the price of success. He was soon to become an oyabun and his wife was the most beautiful woman of the Japanese underworld. Yet, some said having a daughter had made Freddy softer. He wasn’t a mute, but he was more choiceful about his words. Some say he finally had something worth losing.
The fifteenth of January 2005. The Nakamura household boisterously celebrated Adaora’s fifth birthday. Freddy’s henchmen brought in extravagant gifts for Freddy’s baby girl— a miniature Lamborghini so she could mimic driving as fast as Freddy, an easy bake oven so she could play house. She looked just like her mother, but her soul was as fiery as her fathers.
Bobby Nagasaki, Beebee’s brother, appeared in the entrance of the Nakamura party breathing heavily, soaked in blood. Caught off guard with his baby girl sitting on his lap, Freddy yelled to his men to capture the intruder. Bobby Nagasaki hurled himself into the party dancing among Freddy’s henchmen dropping them one by one. Freddy’s concern grew and he threw his daughter behind the couch to protect her. Aiming square for Bobby Nagasaki’s heart he pulled the triggered stopping Bobby Nagasaki dead in his tracks. But, Nagasaki’s outstretched right armed indicated time had come for both of them. Freddy pulled the shuriken from his neck. Adaora watched as the white collar of her dad’s shirt turned crimson red, and fast as a rock he dropped dead.
Another sparring session. She was growing more frustrated as she tried to strike her master with the broom. She swiped at his feet and he floated. She swung for his head and he ducked. She felt like she was at war with the wind. In her frustration, she made a fatal error, and he claimed the broom from her; kicked her legs from under her, and moved to squash her like a bug. She cowered before him raising her arms in defence. Disgusted, the master dropped the broom. “You have acquiesced to defeat.” The student nodded. “If you cower before a piece of wood, why would your enemies cower before you?” The student steadied her breath as she rose. “Strike me now with the broom.”
Quickly, the student kicked up the broom to her hand and spinning to increase her momentum she struck the master with all her force splintering the wood into a thousand pieces. Unharmed the master smiled stroking his beard, “It is the wood that should fear you.”
