The Academy by Laura Antoniou Page B

to Japan. Yet still, it seemed unnatural for him to approach this door on his feet; strange to merely tap against the pine door frame and wait to be invited in. Surely, if he dared to walk in, eyes level, Tetsuo would erupt in rage and nearly take his head off with one blow.
    But he heard the invitation come, slid the door open, and entered without a trace of the tremors which threatened to rise in him like waves. Tetsuo was already seated by his table, soft lamps illuminating the one corner of the room.
    There was never a need to say the empty things that were taught to slaves in the States. No “I am here, Master,” or “What may I do for you, My Lord?” Here, one is summoned, and one comes.
    I need a drink , Chris thought, settling opposite Tetsuo and forcing the memories into a corner of his mind.
    “Sake?” Tetsuo offered.
    “Thank you, no,” Chris said. “Just water please.”
    Tetsuo nodded, and the door to the adjoining room slid open like a whisper. A tray appeared, followed by a woman in a kimono, and Chris stopped watching as she went through the ritual of closing the screen, picking up the tray, and all of the movements which you had to learn in order to bring someone something as simple as a drink. He didn’t comment on how quickly whoever was in the other room had found a cup of water for him, or arranged the tray. To notice a serving slave, as opposed to an ornamental one, was a breach of etiquette.
    There was the usual exchange of courtesies; Tetsuo asked polite questions about the state of affairs in New York, and Chris inquired about Tetsuo’s school in Tokyo. They agreed that the Shimada resort was quite an excellent blending of Eastern and Western styles, and the weather was fine, and that they both regretted being so busy that they could not spare any time to cheer for their favorite baseball teams in person, although they hoped that they might find an afternoon this year to do just that. Finally, Tetsuo changed his posture in that minute way that showed he was ready to talk business.
    “As to the matter at hand,” he said, “I have been most interested in this proposal of yours. I must tell you that I and my house support it wholly.”
    Chris bowed his head down slightly in acknowledgment and gratitude, but did not comment. It was only natural that Tetsuo would support it. He waited for better news.
    “Noguchi-sama is also in favor,” Tetsuo continued, as though this were of no singular importance. But that was the real blessing, Chris thought. As Noguchi goes, so do the great Japanese houses, trainers and spotters alike.
    “That is encouraging news,” Chris said.
    “But that is not why I asked to see you.” Tetsuo emptied his sake cup and put it gently down. He made a slight motion with his right hand and no slave returned to the room to refill it. It was so very subtle; so designed to make it seem that slaves just knew when to do things and when not to.
    “I have some proposals of my own to present this week,” Tetsuo continued.
    “This first one is for you. I have been following your progress for these few years. Your record has been exemplary; you have been of great value to the house of Elliot and Selador. Your writing style varies enough from Sensei Anderson’s that I can see where your influence has been growing in her own reports. In addition, I have found your independent style of training to be most instructive, particularly considering the nature of the North American clients you have trained.”
    Chris picked up his cup and drank slowly. Tetsuo had never been so... effusive in his compliments. It was almost too much to process cleanly. Without thinking, his left hand made a gesture, and the slave returned to refill his cup. Tetsuo didn’t hide a smile, and Chris almost blushed.
    “You are too kind to this poor, ignorant student,” he finally murmured in Japanese.
    Tetsuo didn’t argue, as an American teacher might have, only grunted in response to the use of his