Chapter Twenty Six: Holiday Cheer — Part 1

The first feast is breakfast, and Heath has started on it around five AM. She has opened her feast with Nog, making it from rations and spices, all of which smell wonderful to ChoCho. He has crept into the kitchen to get a glass of water, trying to move qietly so as not to be noticed by Heath, or others. He hides his hands, which are rubbed raw from the work needed to finish her first dress. He’s doing all the work by hand, because they don’t have a sewing machine. It’s taking him time, because of this, but he doesn’t want her to know he’s ahead of schedule, or even what he’s working on. So he hides his hands, currently bleeding a little from edge cuts and dry, cracked skin.

Fortunately, Heath’s baking biscuits in the kitchen, and is moving too quickly back and forth to notice ChoCho’s raw fingertips, bleeding nailbeds, and minor cuts. Until she comes back in and sees the blood splatters on his glass of water, which he has set on the table. Heath takes his hands, studies them closely, sighs slightly, and walks into the storage room. She takes out a box of bright purple examination gloves and a small bottle of lotion, setting them by his cup. She doesn’t say anything, just goes back to cooking oatmeal.

“We could really use eggs. The breakfast will be sweet and heavy, but without eggs, I don’t think the men will be happy.”

ChoCho doesn’t want to think of the men. He hasn’t had a chance to apologize to Joe, and he’s pretty much kept to himself since he lost his cool. Jynx had been very understanding, and though she had insisted that there were no hard feelings about any of it, ChoCho had been reminded too much of his father by Joe’s touch on that day to trust an immediate confrontation with anybody. ChoCho puts on the lotion and purple gloves while he talks, the odd polymer tightening against his skin, sealing in the lotion and moisture.

“You got some dried mushrooms back there. I’m sure the men will be happy with a nice potato hash and fried mushroom gravy, maybe some jerky crunches, if we can spare the meat.” ChoCho says, trying to take his mind from the gnawing fear that thinking of Joe brings him.

“Sounds wonderful.” Joe says suddenly, causing ChoCho to snap up. “ChoCho, come outside and help me get some wood. We need build up our reserves, and you’re more of a house mouse than the girl these days.”

The red leaves ChoCho’s face, but he knows he can’t refuse Joe, as there is nothing in the man’s tone that implies a threat. “Uh, Okay.”

ChoCho walks through the commons, stepping quietly by George and Jude, who are sleeping on a pile of pillows by the fire, putting on his shoes once he is at the door. There is snow on the ground, so he throws on a jacket, but he knows that he will be sweating soon enough. Joe takes up an axe and gloves, tossing a second pair to ChoCho. ChoCho puts on the gloves over the purple plastic ones, instinctively moves a little ways away, taking up a second two handed axe set on the opposite side of the door. ChoCho hopes he doesn’t seem too obvious in his caution. They’re walking for a minute or so, headed toward a dead patch of trees that had not survived the storm, when Joe clears his throat. The sound is unpleasant to ChoCho, whose manners demand the occasional illusion of perfection in his outward sounds and appearance. Joe is now carrying an axe and pulling a red wagon behind him, looking a little silly, given his size.

“I uh, want to let you know, I’m not dragging you out into the woods to chuck you to pieces with an axe or anything. I really do need help, and I kind of needed to talk to you about that whole Kung Fu thing you did the other day.”

“Aikido.” ChoCho says.

“What?”

“It is Aikido. Not Kung Fu. Kung Fu is mainland. Aikido is Nippon. The two are only distantly related, as physics demands.” ChoCho is polite, trying to be terse.

“I guess then that I owe you two apologies.” Joe says. “I just want you to know, I’ll never hit you. Not unless you want to try to hit me first. I care about you too much to do something so crass.”

ChoCho pauses in his step, his voice suddenly stern. “If you go on to where you end up saying that I’m like a son to you, at any point in this conversation, I am so going to kick your ass.”

“Uh, okay.” Joe says. “But you and Heath are like Blake’s children, really. He’s cut me off until we apologize, and sex is a big deal to me.” ChoCho’s face takes on a shocked look, and Joe pauses. “Too much?”

“Yes.” ChoCho says.

By this point the two have made the edge of the dead wood, where Joe starts swinging. The two keep talking between swings.

“All right, stepping back a bit.” Joe says, cracking the axe against a dead tree a few times. “You whooped my ass in one counterstrike . . . Blake thinks that as Captain of a ship . . . it would be in my best interest to ask . . . if you will be my Master in matters of self defense.” Joe brings down a dead tree with a final hard swing.

He sets the axe into the trunk, rolls his shoulders, and turns away for a moment. Sticking the ground a foot from the trunk with his toe, Joe plants an acorn, and chants something hopeful about it growing tall and strong. ChoCho takes down another dead tree, starts cutting up the wood into more manageable chunks. Joe does the same for his tree. The two don’t talk much as they work. ChoCho is thinking.

“I am no master.” ChoCho says, when the first load of wood is ready to haul back.

“You may well be the only living person who can teach me what I need to know.” Joe says

“You got a decade to spare?” ChoCho asks, breaking down the wood.

They are now pulling an overlaiden wagon back through the light snow with enough wood for a couple of days burn. “I’ve got nothing but time.”

ChoCho doesn’t know what to say, except to agree. “I will do my best, but like I said, I am not a master.”

“One more thing.” Joe says quietly. “Blake and I were thinking that we could hire you to teach Heath. A girl like her should know how to protect herself. That is our holiday gift to her. But only if you agree to it.”

“Take me to Japan.” ChoCho says suddenly.

“What?” Joe snaps suddenly.

“I said, take me to Japan. Twice a year: Once for training you, and once for training Heath. One week on each visit, and take me as a passenger, not as crew. So long as you have a ship that flies and we are both alive and strong enough to travel. That is my price to train you and your daughter.”

“Agreed.” Joe puts out his hand to shake, but ChoCho simply bows slightly to Joe, turns away, and starts unloading the wood into the hallway.

There is a quiet space between the two as they walk back and forth in the snow, bringing wagons of wood to the house, chopping wood down in intervals until ChoCho has to call it quits and let his hands heal a bit.

Once the wood is loaded up, and it is apparent to Joe that ChoCho will part ways with him, Joe speaks very loudly, so he is certain the boy can hear him. “Thank you.”

ChoCho stops at the door, wincing at the words. “We start at the coming of the new year.”

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