A Tale of War, Passion, and Adventure - a Guest Post by J. P. Hogan

Set in Japan in 1906, this story follows a young English boy and his Japanese friend. Their innocent missteps lead them to discover a shared sense of duty and discipline across cultures. The piece explores the Edwardian ideal of honor and the quiet moral codes of two civilizations meeting in a rapidly changing world.

James Hogan is a published author of historical fiction and travel writing. His novel “Love Through All Strife” was published in 2019. He has also contributed articles to Travel Thru History. His stories often focus on character, culture, and moral transformation within richly researched settings. Additionally, he has been published in Twenty-two, Twenty-eight, where his short story “Night on the Brother” appeared earlier this year.

This short story may appeal to readers of Rudyard Kipling’s colonial tales, Lafcadio Hearn, or Kazuo Ishiguro’s historical narratives. It particularly resonates with those who enjoy character-driven historical fiction grounded in emotional realism and cultural atmosphere.

The Setting: Japan in 1906

In 1906, Jack FitzHubert, a ten-year-old boy, lived in Japan with his British family. His father held an important position in the British embassy. For Jack, life in Japan was mostly an adventure. However, the stark cultural differences posed challenges. One such challenge would soon become painfully clear.

Jack’s best friend in Japan was Taro Funabashi, a boy from a family that had included samurai. Taro’s father worked in the new-style Japanese government. He wanted Taro to embrace modernity, so he enrolled him in an English-speaking school. There, Taro met Jack, and they quickly became best friends.

Typically, they played at Jack’s house. The FitzHubert family maid introduced Taro to tea and scones. However, today was different. Jack’s mother was hosting a party for other Englishwomen in Japan. She arranged for Jack to visit Taro at his house instead.

Upon arriving at the Funabashi home, Taro instructed Jack to remove his shoes at the door. Taken off-guard, Jack complied. “It is our custom here in Japan,” Taro explained, removing his sandals and placing them next to Jack’s stout English shoes.

As they entered the house, both boys represented their respective cultures. Jack was sturdy, blue-eyed, and had sandy-brown hair. His skin was pale, and his cheeks were rosy. Taro, with light yellow skin and thick black hair, had perfectly almond-shaped eyes.

Cultural Differences

Once inside, Jack turned to Taro with a questioning glance. “Taro, where are your trousers and shirt today? Why are you wearing that robe?”

“My grandfather wishes me to wear it,” Taro replied. “He says that I must remain Japanese and not become too much like a westerner. I think he misses the old ways.”

“But he is only your grandfather. Couldn’t your father let you wear pants?” Jack asked.

Taro’s face remained inscrutable. “My father respects my grandfather’s wishes. He is the oldest in our house, and his word is our command.”

“But don’t you prefer trousers?” Jack pressed, genuinely puzzled. “They seem better for playing.”

“I always wear a robe at home,” Taro replied calmly. “I find them almost more comfortable than pants.”

Taro smiled at Jack. “Perhaps you would like to try wearing one someday?”

Jack shook his head. “No thank you, I don’t think I’d like that very much.”

“Very well,” Taro said, and they continued walking. Suddenly, Jack stopped Taro with a hand on his sleeve.

“I say, my father says some of your family were samurai. Do you still have any swords? I saw a picture of one in a book once, and I would very much like to see one.”

“We have one or two,” Taro replied. “But I don’t know where they are. My grandfather would know, but he has just gone to his room to rest. We must be quiet today.”

Jack felt frustrated. He had hoped for a fun afternoon at Taro’s house, but it seemed it would be boring instead. Glancing outside, he noticed a small garden through an open sliding door. It featured a small pool, grass, ornamental trees, and flowers.

“What a lovely garden you have! Let’s play here!” Jack exclaimed, running out into the garden. He did a cartwheel, but one foot struck a small statue atop a stone. The statue crashed into the pool with a splash. Jack stood frozen, mouth agape, as Taro covered his mouth in horror.

The Consequences of Actions

After a moment of silence, Jack stammered, “I…I say. Was that statue…important?”

Taro nodded emphatically. “That statue represents my ancestors. They watch over the garden. But now they cannot. You have disturbed them.”

“Oh, I say, I’m terribly sorry,” Jack said sincerely. “I’ll fetch the statue from the pool.”

“Oh no! No!” Taro cried. He hurried to the pool, reached in carefully, and pulled out the dripping statue. Chanting softly in Japanese, he set it back on the stone. Taro bowed low to the statue several times.

“I offered our sincerest apologies to my ancestors for having disturbed their rest. I trust that my apologies were heard,” Taro said, turning to Jack.

“But why didn’t you let me put the statue back?” Jack asked in surprise. “I was only trying to help.”

“Ah, but you are not Japanese,” Taro explained. “My ancestors would have been angry at a foreigner handling them.”

“Well,” Jack said, “how about a game of ‘tag’ then? You’re it!” Before Taro could react, Jack shoved him lightly on the arm. Taro stumbled backward, tumbling over a small bonsai tree.

Jack hurried over to help Taro up. Brushing dirt from Taro’s colorful robe, he noticed the small tree. Other than a few missing leaves and some spilled dirt, it seemed undamaged.

“I’m sorry,” Jack said breathlessly. “I’m awfully clumsy today.”

He hesitated before helping Taro with the pot, remembering the earlier incident. Taro carefully placed the pot upright, scooping up loose dirt and dumping it back in.

“The bonsai tree is very important for my people,” Taro explained. “It would be hard to explain its significance to a foreigner like you.”

“Taro!”

Taro covered his mouth, eyes widening. “My grandfather! We have awakened him. Come, let us leave this place.”

The boys entered the house. A sliding screen door opened, revealing Taro’s grandfather, a man of about 65. He was dressed like Taro. Despite his silver-streaked hair and wrinkles, he walked upright, exuding strength. His stern frown advanced on the boys, who stood frozen.

Instantly, the old man emitted a barrage of Japanese. Jack guessed he was questioning Taro about the noises in the garden. Taro answered calmly. The grandfather then looked out into the garden. Jack knew the statue still bore water, and the pot wasn’t quite as it had been.

After a moment, Taro’s grandfather returned to his room. Jack craned his neck, hoping to glimpse a samurai sword, but saw only a vase of flowers on a table. He turned back to Taro, who looked placid, hands folded inside his robe.

“What will happen now?” Jack whispered.

“I must suffer the consequences for what I did to my ancestors,” Taro murmured.

“What? Why?” Jack asked, confused. “I was just as much to blame as you. Probably even more.”

“But you are not my grandfather’s grandson,” Taro replied. “And you’re not Japanese.”

The Punishment

Before Jack could respond, Taro’s grandfather appeared, holding a thin bamboo stick over a meter long. He barked an order at Taro, pointing to a spot against the wall. Taro bowed slightly and moved to the spot, removing his robe.

As Taro began his punishment, Jack looked at his friend’s face. It bore a look of stoic calmness. Jack admired Taro’s courage in the face of such hardship.

Unnoticed by Jack, a door to another room opened slightly. Taro’s mother and 12-year-old sister had been having a tea ceremony. They heard the commotion and witnessed Taro’s punishment but did not interfere. They knew not to challenge the authority of the old man.

Less than a minute later, Taro’s grandfather finished punishing him. He unleashed a torrent of Japanese at Taro, pointing once at Jack before returning to his room. The door shut behind him.

Jack hurried to Taro’s side. “Taro, are you all right? Can you move?”

Taro said nothing. He pulled himself together, barely flinching. He picked up his robe and put it on. “I deserved that,” he said simply. “My grandfather was correct to punish me for bringing shame on our family.”

“What a beastly custom,” Jack thought, but he said nothing.

“My grandfather also said you must leave now, as nothing good has come of your visit this afternoon.”

“I say, tell him I’m terribly sorry,” Jack replied sincerely. “But my parents won’t be expecting me for another few hours.”

“I will have one of our servants escort you home,” Taro said, seemingly ignoring Jack’s apology.

Jack was escorted home. At the front gate, he heard the sound of his mother’s party. He didn’t want to see his parents now. He had to explain how he came home so early. His father was at work, so he wouldn’t run into him.

As Jack walked into the house, he unexpectedly bumped into his mother. She looked surprised. “Why dear, why are you home so early?”

Jack squirmed. “I—I don’t feel too well. Taro thought it best if I went home early. He sent me with one of their servants.”

“Oh,” his mother remarked, concerned. “Maybe it’s just indigestion from your lunch. There are many strange foods here you have to get used to!”

Jack nodded. “I think I just need to rest in my room for the afternoon.”

“Of course,” his mother said. “Just let one of the servants know if you need anything. I have to get back to my party now.”

Jack trudged upstairs to bed. He lay down and closed his eyes. He realized he had stretched the truth a bit to his mother, but it wasn’t entirely untrue. He hadn’t felt well at Taro’s house, especially after witnessing his punishment.

The afternoon passed restlessly for Jack. He heard his mother’s guests leave one by one. A little while later, he heard the door open and his father’s voice greeting the servant. Half an hour later, the dinner bell rang. Reluctantly, he headed downstairs.

At the dinner table, Jack sat with his parents and younger sister, Mary. His parents talked about their day, while Mary occasionally requested more food. Jack said little, focusing on his plate. Then his mother brought him back to reality.

“Jack got back quite early from Taro’s house today. He said he wasn’t feeling well.”

“Not feeling well?” Mr. FitzHubert echoed. “Whatever was the matter, Jack? You seemed fine when I left this morning.”

Jack shrugged and shoveled food into his mouth. Once he could speak, he replied, “I think it was indigestion, from lunch.”

“But you’re eating now,” his father pointed out.

Jack shrugged again. “It seems to have gone away.”

At that moment, the bell rang. A servant answered the front door and returned with a sealed telegram for Mr. FitzHubert. As his father opened it, Jack strained to see the address, but his view was blocked. He saw his father’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise before falling into a deep frown.

“Why, whatever is the matter, darling?” Mrs. FitzHubert asked, surprised. “You look as if you’ve received some sort of shock.”

Shaking his head, Mr. FitzHubert placed the telegram in a pocket and quietly resumed his meal. “I’ll tell you later, dear,” was his only answer.

Hurriedly, Jack looked back down at his plate, finishing his food. He asked to be excused and returned to his room. He lay on his bed, knowing the telegram had come from Taro’s house. It likely mentioned the day’s events and Jack’s role in the misfortunes of the Funabashi household.

That evening, just as Jack was about to go to bed, a servant summoned him to his father’s study. His stomach churned as he made his way downstairs to the dimly lit room. Once inside, he was told to shut the door.

Jack saw his father seated at his desk, coat off. “Jack, that telegram I received tonight was sent from Taro’s father. He was informed by his own father that you and Taro caused some damage in their garden today. A statue and a bonsai tree were upset. Am I correct?”

“Yes, sir,” Jack replied, his throat dry.

“And what role did you play in all that?”

“I knocked the statue into the water, and then I upset Taro, who knocked over the tree.”

“I see,” Mr. FitzHubert said pensively. “And what happened next?”

“Taro’s grandfather came out and shouted at Taro. Then he beat him with a long bamboo stick. Oh father, it was terrible! Taro was calm the whole time, talking about his ancestors and how he deserved his punishment. This is a beastly, horrible country! Why can’t we go back to England?”

“Now, Jack,” Mr. FitzHubert said patiently. “We must be understanding of other peoples. England is a small part of this world, and most people are very different from us. We must be polite and respect their traditions, even if we find them repulsive at times.”

“But all that talk about ancestors?” Jack pressed. “It doesn’t seem right to please people who died so long ago.”

Mr. FitzHubert sighed. “There are things about the Orient that you, I, and men who have lived here far longer will never understand. Some things are the way they are, and there is little we can do to change that.”

“I suppose,” Jack replied.

“Taro comes from a noble family, like our nobility back in England,” Mr. FitzHubert continued. “They have a code to uphold, similar to ours.”

“Yes, I would describe Taro as noble,” Jack said pensively.

“Now that we have discussed this, I think it’s high time you were in bed,” Mr. FitzHubert remarked, rising. “Have a good night!”

“Good night, father!” Jack replied. Once in his room, he heard his father pass by on the way to his own room. Soon, Jack drifted off to sleep.

The Next Morning

The next morning, Jack awoke and went downstairs for breakfast. He was on holiday from school, so his day was free. But as he entered the dining room, he was surprised to see Taro and his father. Mr. Funabashi wore a western-style suit and had a neatly trimmed mustache, contrasting with his traditional father. Taro was also in a suit.

Before Jack could greet them, his father entered the room. “Good morning, Jack. I didn’t tell you last night, but I was expecting a visit from Mr. Funabashi and Taro today. I thought it best you be surprised.”

Jack stared in surprise, wondering why his father had kept this from him.

“Jack, it was requested that you provide Mr. Funabashi with an apology for your actions the other day. I need you to sincerely do so now.”

Jack took a deep breath. “I’m sorry for the damage I caused yesterday and the disgrace I caused your family and ancestors.”

Mr. Funabashi looked down at Taro. Taro spoke softly in Japanese, and then Mr. Funabashi looked back at Jack and gave a slight bow.

“My father accepts your apology,” Taro said.

“Well, is that it?” Jack asked.

“Not quite, I’m afraid,” Mr. FitzHubert said with a small frown.

“What do you mean, father?” Jack asked, perplexed.

“This way,” Mr. FitzHubert said, placing a hand on Jack’s shoulder. He led Jack to a small shed in the back garden, where a few gardening tools were stored. Jack sensed Taro and his father following at a distance.

Inside the dim light of the shed, Mr. FitzHubert turned to Jack. “Remember our conversation last night?”

Jack nodded. “Of course. About different customs.”

“Right. Well, it is considered bad form for a Japanese to strike a foreigner, especially one from a powerful nation like ours.”

Jack furrowed his brow. “I don’t understand.”

“Yesterday, Taro was beaten because he was Japanese. His grandfather spared you, even though you were the perpetrator. However, what you did was still considered dishonorable and worthy of punishment.”

“But I just apologized!” Jack pleaded. “I thought they were satisfied!”

“Only partially,” Mr. FitzHubert explained patiently. “I let you apologize because I wanted you to feel that satisfaction. I also did it to assure your mother that we resolved the matter.”

“But I thought we satisfied them!” Jack exclaimed, confused.

“What did I say about beating?” Mr. FitzHubert asked.

“You said a Japanese wouldn’t strike an Englishman.”

“Exactly. However, one Englishman can hit another.”

Suddenly, Jack understood. His blue eyes widened in consternation. “Oh no! No, Father! You can’t do this to me! Not to appease these… these…”

Mr. FitzHubert clapped a hand over Jack’s mouth and glanced quickly out of the shed. He could barely make out Taro and his father waiting quietly in the shadows. Then he looked back at Jack and slowly removed his hand.

“Jack, the Japanese are intelligent and highly civilized. They come from an ancient civilization. I have the utmost respect for them and will comply with their wishes to maintain good relations.”

Jack gulped and closed his eyes. Then he looked back up at his father, holding his head high. “I’m ready, then.”

“That’s a good fellow,” Mr. FitzHubert remarked. Jack prepared for punishment, determined to be as strong as Taro had been. He didn’t cry out, but he realized he was biting his lower lip so hard it was bleeding.

By the time he dressed, Jack found himself alone in the shed. He heard distant voices of his father and the Funabashis retreating toward the house. Walking carefully due to the soreness in his back, Jack slowly returned inside.

Once inside, he was met by his mother. “My dear, are you all right? Your lower lip is bloody!”

Jack hastily wiped it away, wondering how to respond when his father appeared. Mrs. FitzHubert quickly addressed her husband. “James, tell me what happened to Jack outside!”

“I’ll tell you later, dear,” Mr. FitzHubert said calmly. “Right now, I need to see Jack in my study.”

With a hand on Jack’s shoulder, Mr. FitzHubert marched him to his study. Once seated, he looked over Jack proudly. “I’m proud of you, Jack,” he finally said. “Today, you carried yourself like a true Englishman.”

Jack squared his shoulders and stood up straight, forgetting his soreness. “Thank you, sir. I strove to please you and make you proud.”

“Well, my boy, you surely did today. You surely did.”