"A Matter of Honour" - a Short Story by James Hogan

Set in Japan in 1906, it follows a young English boy and his Japanese friend whose 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, with his historical fiction novel “Love Through All Strife” being published in 2019, and having contributed articles Travel Thru History. His stories often focus on character, culture, and moral transformation within richly researched settings. In addition, he has previously 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 the works of Rudyard Kipling’s colonial tales, Lafcadio Hearn, or Kazuo Ishigiro’s historical stories, particularly those who enjoy character-driven historical fiction grounded in emotional realism and cultural atmosphere.

  A Matter of Honour

It was 1906 and Jack FitzHubert (age ten) was living in Japan with his parents and younger sister. Jack and his family were British. His father worked in an important position in the British embassy. For the most part, living in Japan was an adventure for him, as it would be for most any young boy. But it did have some downsides, notably the very different culture and mindset of the Japanese. One such would be painfully brought to life for young Jack.

Jack’s best friend in Japan was a Japanese boy his age, Taro Funabashi. Taro came from a family that up until a few generations ago had included samurai in its number. Taro’s father worked in the new-style Japanese government. As such, he wanted his son to be a part of the modern world into which Japan had so recently entered. He had therefore enrolled Taro in an English-speaking school, where Taro had met Jack. The boys became best friends and would spend as much time together as they could outside of classroom.

Usually, they played at Jack’s house, where the FitzHubert family maid introduced Taro to tea and scones. But today, Jack’s mother was hosting a party for other Englishwomen resident in Japan and she arranged for Jack to visit Taro at his house. Upon being dropped off at the Funabashi house, Jack was told to remove his shoes at the door by Taro. Somewhat taken off-guard, Jack complied with the order.

“It is our custom here in Japan to do so” said Taro, who took off his distinctive Japanese sandals and put them next to the stout English shoes of Jack.

Entering the house side by side, both boys could be seen to be magnificent examples of their respective peoples. Jack was sturdy, blue-eyed, and had a mop of sandy-brown hair. His skin was pale and his cheeks were rosy. Taro had light yellow skin, almost white. His hair was thick and black, his perfectly almond eyes a deep black.

As soon as they were in the house, 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. He says that I must remain Japanese and not become too much like a westerner. I think he misses the old ways and old times.”

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

Taro turned and faced Jack, his smooth yellow face a mask of inscrutability.

“My father respects the wishes of my grandfather, as he is his elder. He is the oldest one in our house and his word is our command.”

“But don’t you prefer trousers?” asked Jack, genuinely puzzled. “I should think they are much better for playing in.”

“I always wear a robe at home” replied Taro calmly. “I don’t mind it. In fact, I find them almost more comfortable than pants.”

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

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

“Very well” purred Taro. He turned and the boys kept walking again. Then Jack suddenly pulled Taro up short with a hand on his sleeve.

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

“We have one or two” replied Taro. “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 here today.”

Jack turned and kept walking, giving a frustrated yank on the edges of his coat as he did so. He had hoped to have a jolly good time with Taro at his house and now it seemed like it would be a boring afternoon. Glancing to his right, he happened to look out of an open sliding door and out into a small garden. Here he could see a small pool, grass, various ornamental trees, and some flowers. Stopping to regard it for a minute, he then turned to Taro.

“What a bloody swell garden you have! Let’s play here!”

Jack ran out into the middle of the garden and did a cartwheel. But as one of his feet came down, it struck a small statue that was sitting atop a stone. The statue crashed off the stone and came down with a splash into the small pool. Jack sprang erect, his mouth slightly agape. He turned to Taro to find the son of Nippon with a hand covering his mouth, his slanted eyes wide in horror. For a few moments, there was only silence.

“I…I say” said Jack, his voice slightly hoarse. “Was that statue…rather important?”

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

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

“Oh no! No!” Taro cried. Moving as fast as he could in his long robe, he hurried on stocking feet to the side of Jack. Reaching carefully into the pool, he gently pulled the dripping statue from the water and chanting something softly in Japanese, set the statue back on the stone where it had previously sat. As Jack watched in speechless wonder, Taro stepped back a few paces from the statue and bowed low to it several times. Then he faced Jack.

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

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

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

“Well” said Jack “how about a game of ‘tag’ then? You’re it!”

Before the oriental boy could react, Jack had given him a small shove on the arm. Taro was caught off guard and stumbled backwards, tumbling over a small bonsai tree as he did so. Noticing what he had done, Jack hurried over to help Taro to his feet. Brushing some dirt from his colorful robe, Taro looked down at the small tree. Other than a few missing leaves and some spilled dirt from the pot, it looked to be undamaged.

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

He was about to help Taro put the pot upright again when he remembered what had happened when he tried to help with the statue and withdrew his hands. Taro carefully placed the pot upright, scooping up some loose dirt and dumping it back in the pot. Then he turned to face Jack.

“The Bansai tree is very important for my people” he explained. “It would be hard to explain its significance to a foreigner such as you.”

“Taro!”

Taro put both hands over his mouth and looked at Jack with eyes widened seemingly as far as they could go.

“My grandfather! We have awakened him. Come, let us leave this place.”

The two boys left the garden and entered the house. A sliding screen door in front of them opened and a man of about 65 stood there. He was dressed like Taro. Despite the silver streaks in his hair and the few wrinkles Jack could see on his face, the man walked upright and exuded an aura of strength. But now his face bore a stern frown and he advanced on the two boys who stood frozen there.

Instantly, the old man emitted a barrage of Japanese. Jack guessed the man was questioning Taro about the noises in the garden. Taro gave the man short answers in a calm voice. Then his grandfather marched to the door of the garden and looked out. Jack knew that the statue still bore drying water on it and the pot hadn’t been placed quite as it had prior to being knocked over.

Looking the garden over carefully for a few moments, Taro’s grandfather turned and went back into the room from which he had emerged a minute earlier. Jack craned his head to look into the room, hoping for a glimpse of a samurai sword. But he saw very little there, other than a vase with flowers set on a table. Then he turned back to face Taro. The handsome Asian boy was looking at his grandfather’s room, his hands folded inside the sleeves of his robe and a placid look on his face.

“What will happen now?” asked Jack in a whisper.

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

“What? Why?” questioned Jack in confusion. “I was just as much to blame as you. Probably even more than you.”

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

“But what-” Jack never finished his question. It was answered for him by the appearance of Taro’s grandfather. In his hand he bore a thin bamboo stick over a meter long. Barking an order at Taro, he pointed to a spot against the wall. Making a slight bow to his grandfather, Taro moved over to this spot and to the horror of Jack removed his robe. As Taro began his punishment at the hands of his grandfather, Jack angled about, looking at the Asian boy’s face. It bore a look of stoic calmness. Yet Jack knew that Taro must be hurting. Jack was a proud believer in the superiority of his country, but even he had to admire the pluck and courage the son of the east showed in the face of such hardship.

Unnoticed by Jack, a door to another room adjoining theirs opened slightly. Had he been looking, he would have noticed two pairs of large dark eyes grown wide with alarm staring out at the scene in front of them. Taro’s mother and 12-year old sister had been having a tea ceremony to themselves when they heard the commotion from outside the room. But upon witnessing the punishment of Taro, they gave it no more thought. They knew not to interfere, for the old man was king of the house. Smoothing their pretty kimonos, they covered their mouths with their hands politely and shutting the door went back to their tea ceremony.

Less than a minute later,  the grandfather of Taro finished his punishment of his grandson. Unleashing a torrent of Japanese at Taro and pointing once at Jack, the old man marched back to his room, shutting the door once he was inside. The instant the door was shut, Jack hurried to the side of his friend.

“Taro, are you all right? Can you move about much?”

In reply, Taro said nothing. Pulling himself back together, he barely even flinched. Reaching down, he picked up his robe and put it on. Then he calmly looked the shocked Jack in the face.

“I deserved that” he said simply. “My grandfather was correct to punish me for having brought shame on our family.”

“What a beastly custom” thought Jack. But he said nothing to Taro, as he knew that wouldn’t be right at all.

“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” replied Jack sincerely. “But my parents won’t be expecting me for another few hours at least.”

“I will have one of our servants escort you home” replied Taro, seemingly ignoring the offer of an apology Jack had given.

Jack was escorted home. At the front gate he heard the sound of his mother’s party coming from the back garden. He didn’t much want to see his parents now. Somehow he had to explain how he came home so early. His father was now at work, so there was no worry about running into him.

As Jack walked into the house, he unexpectedly bumped into his mother. She looked surprised to see him.

“Why dear, why are you home so early?”

Jack squirmed and gently rubbed his stomach. “I – I don’t feel too well. Taro thought it best if I went home early. He sent me here with one of their servants.”

“Oh” remarked his mother concernedly. “Well, maybe it is only a case of indigestion from your lunch today. There are certainly a lot of strange foods here you have to get used to!”

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

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

Jack nodded and trudged upstairs to bed. Taking his shoes off, he lay down on his bed and closed his eyes. He realized he had stretched the truth a bit to his mother, but it wasn’t entirely untrue what he had said. He hadn’t felt entirely well at the house of Taro, especially seeing him get punished by his own grandfather.

The rest of the afternoon passed restlessly for Jack. He heard his mother’s guests leave one by one. In a little while he heard the door open and his father’s voice greeting the servant who opened it. A little over half an hour later, Jack heard the dinner bell ring. Reluctantly, he headed downstairs.

Seated at the dinner table with Jack were his parents and younger sister, 8-year-old Mary. His parents talked about their day and its events, while Mary occasionally interjected with a request for more of a certain type of food. Jack said little, focusing on eating what was on his plate. Then the voice of 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?” echoed Mr. FitzHubert. “Whatever was the matter Jack? You seemed fine when I left the house this morning.”

Jack shrugged and shoveled another forkful of food in his mouth. When his mouth was finally clear, he answered his father.

“I think it was indigestion, from lunch I suppose.”

“But you’re eating now.”

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

At that moment, the bell rang and a servant answered the front door. He returned a moment later bearing a sealed telegram which he handed to Mr. FitzHubert. As his father opened the telegram, Jack strained to see the address on it, but he failed to do so, hos vision being blocked by a number of dishes and glasses. But he did see his father’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise before falling down again into a deep frown.

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

Shaking his head as if to clear it, Mr. FitzHubert placed the telegram in a shirt pocket and quietly resumed his meal.

“I’ll tell you later, dear” was his only answer.

Hurriedly looking back down at his plate, Jack finished the last bit of his food. Asking to be excused, his wish was granted. Returning to his room, he lay on his bed and closed his eyes. Somehow, he knew that telegram his father had read had come from Taro’s house. It had probably mentioned the events of the day and the role Jack had played in the misfortunes of the Funabashi household.

That evening, just as Jack was about to go to bed, he was summoned by a servant to go to his father’s study. His stomach doing belly flops, Jack made his way downstairs to the dimly-lit study. Once inside, he was told to shut the door. As he stood there in the dim light of a single lamp, Jack saw his father seated at his desk, his 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” replied Jack, his throat dry.

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

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

“I see” said Mr. FitzHubert pensively. Then he looked back at his son.

“And what happened next?”

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

“Now Jack” said Mr. FitzHubert patiently. “We must be understanding of other peoples unlike us. The fact is, England is a very small part of this world and most people in it are very different than us. We must be polite to them and respect their traditions as best we can, even if we find them repulsive at times.”

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

Mr. FitzHubert sighed. “Jack, there are things about the orient that you, me, and men who have lived here far longer than us will never know the answers to. You have to accept that some things are the way they are and there is very little we can do to change that.”

“I suppose” replied Jack.

“The fact is Taro comes from a noble family, like our nobility back in England” continued Mr. FitzHubert. “They have a code of sorts to uphold rather like ours do still even today.”

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

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

“Good night father!” replied Jack. Once up in his room in bed, he heard his father go past his room on the way to his own room. Soon, Jack drifted off into a peaceful sleep.

The next morning, Jack awoke and went downstairs to breakfast. He was on holiday from school, so his day was entirely free. But no sooner was he downstairs when a surprising sight greeted his eyes.

It was Taro and his father. Mr. Funabashi was wearing a western-style suit and had a neatly-trimmed mustache, both in contrast to his strongly traditional father. Taro was wearing a suit as well. Before Jack could offer them a greeting, his father entered the room.

“Good morning Jack. As I deliberately didn’t tell you last night, I was expecting a visit from Mr. Funabashi and Taro today. I thought it….better that you be surprised this morning.”

Jack could only stare in surprise. He wondered why his father had neglected to tell him this, but his surprise wasn’t to last very long.

“Jack, it was requested of me 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 before speaking. “I’m sorry for the damage I caused yesterday and the disgrace I caused your family and your ancestors.”

Mr. Funabashi looked down at Taro. Taro looked up at his father and spoke softly in Japanese. Then Mr. Funabashi looked back at Jack and gave a slight bow.

“My father accepts your apology” said Taro.

“Well, is that it?” asked Jack.

“Not quite, I’m afraid” said his father with a small frown.

“What do you mean father?” asked Jack in a perplexing voice.

“This way” said Mr. FitzHubert. Putting a hand on the shoulder of his son, he led Jack out to a small shed in the back garden. This had a few tools in it for the gardener. Sensing, rather than seeing, Jack knew Taro and his father were following them at a safe distance.

Once inside the dime light of the shed, Mr. FitzHubert turned to face Jack.

“Remember our conversation of last night?”

Jack nodded. “Of course. About the different customs people have.”

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

Jack wrinkled his brow in confusion. “I don’t understand you father.”

“Yesterday Taro was beaten because he was Japanese, but 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 to them now!” pleaded Jack. “I thought they were satisfied with that!”

“Only partially” explained Mr. FitzHubert patiently. “I let you apologize because I wanted to give you the satisfaction of apologizing to them yourself. I also did it because I wanted your mother to think we resolved this matter that way. I shared with her some of the content of the telegram last night.”

“But I thought that we satisfied them!” Jack was now more confused than ever.

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

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

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

Suddenly, Jack understood what his father was saying and his beautiful blue eyes grew wide in consternation.

“Oh no! No Father! You can’t do this to me! Not to appease these, these…”

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

“Jack, the Japanese are an intelligent and highly civilized people. They’re not like some other peoples in our empire. They come from an elaborate and ancient civilization. I have the utmost respect for them and will comply with their wishes to keep our good relations with them.”

Bowing his head, Jack gulped and closed his eyes. Then he looked back up at his father and held his head high.

“I’m ready, then.”

“That’s a good fellow” remarked Mr. FitzHubert. Jack dutifully prepared to be punished by his father. After seeing the strength which Taro exhibited the other day, Jack was determined to be just as strong as the lithe Japanese had been. After all, he, Jack FitzHubert, was an Englishman. While he didn’t cry out while being punished, Jack realized he was biting so deeply into his lower lip that it was bleeding some.

By the time he had dressed himself, Jack found himself the only one in the shed. He heard the distant voices of his father and the Funabashis retreating towards the house. Walking carefully due to the soreness in his back, Jack walked slowly back to the house. Once inside, he was met by his mother.

“My dear, are you all right? Why, your lower lip is all bloody!”

Jack hastily wiped this away with a hand and was wondering how he would respond to his mother when his father appeared. This happened momentarily and Mrs. FitzHubert quickly addressed her husband.

“James, tell me what happened to Jack outside!” she demanded, concern clouding her face. She knew better to have interfered with whatever had happened between her husband and son and the Funabashi family on the other but her maternal instinct still couldn’t be entirely stifled.

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

His hand on the shoulder of his son, Mr. FitzHubert marched Jack to his study. Once seated in his chair, the suave mustachioed Englishman looked his son over 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. He forgot about his sore body and relished the words of his father.

“Thank you sir. I strove to please you and make you proud.”

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