The Ink-Keeper's Apprentice Read Free

thin. Not eating properly. And look how pale you are."
    "I've been studying too hard," I said.
    "Ha! That's what you say. Drawing again, I'm sure. I didn't give you permission to live alone so that you could draw silly pictures. Studying too hard, indeed. I wept over your last report card, Koichi. I wanted to crawl into a hole, when I looked at your dreadful scores in front of all the other parents. Dreadful!"
    "I'm trying my best, Grandmother, really I am. Have you heard from Mother?" I changed the subject.
    "Yes. She'll be here at the end of the month. She's a hard-working woman, Koichi."
    "Yes, I know," I said, and opened the package of sweets. Grandmother could never resist the jellied chestnuts. I got the kettle of boiling water from the kitchen and Grandmother took out the tea things from the cupboard. She poured the hot water into one pot, let it cool for a moment, and then poured it into another pot with tea leaves in it. It was always the same. Grandmother sipped the brew noisily. Drinking tea was one of the few things that made her happy. She bit into a chestnut cake and for a moment I thought her eyes softened. I felt like I was watching a tiger. She would never be more relaxed than now. I took a chance.
    "Grandmother, have you ever heard of Noro Shinpei?" I asked her.
    "What kind of name is that?"
    "A pen name. He's a famous cartoonist."
    "What a disrespectful name. Slow Soldier ... it's not even amusing. Slow Soldier? Was there something about him in the paper recently? And a boy from Osaka?"
    "Yes, the same one," I said quickly. "Tokida is the boy's name. Do you remember, he walked for sixteen days to come to Tokyo and Sensei—I mean, Noro Shinpei." In my mind I was already beginning to refer to Noro Shinpei as a sensei, a master.
    "Yes, I remember," said Grandmother. "It was an unusual story. Why do you ask?"
    "No reason. I wondered if you know who he is. I think he's the best cartoonist there is."
    "And who cares about a cartoonist?"
    "Don't you think I should become a cartoonist?" I asked.
    "Don't talk rubbish. Your mother is not sending you to a good school so you can draw silly pictures. A cartoonist, indeed! Remember your blood, Koichi."
    "I'm only joking," I said.
    That was her favorite expression, Remember your blood. She came from an old samurai family. So had Grandfather. His ancestors had been proud warriors for four hundred years. But the Second World War had made my grandparents paupers. Grandfather was dead now. My mother was supporting Grandmother and me. And Grandmother still held on to old traditions. Such things as a good family name, genteel upbringing, and good schooling were important to her. And most of all, our lineage.
    Suddenly I wanted to leave Grandmother's house at once. I
had
to tell someone about my sensei.
    "May I take another set of sheets?" I asked. "I think there's an extra set upstairs." Grandmother nodded without looking up.
    I went upstairs to the small six-mat room and found a set of sheets and a pillowcase in the closet. The room was the way I'd left it almost a year ago. It had been my room since I'd come to Tokyo to go to school, and now the only trace of my stay there was some thumbtack holes in the wall where I used to pin my drawings.
    "Stay for supper; I bought two fish today," said Grandmother when I came downstairs.
    "Thank you, but I really should be going," I said, and looked at my watch. "I have some studying to do."
    "I thought this was spring vacation."
    "Yes, but they gave us a lot of homework."
    "Do as you wish. But make sure you eat something."
    "Yes, I will. I'll see you at the end of the month," I said, and left her.
    It was a great relief to leave Grandmother's house. Sometimes I felt like shouting at her. I didn't know why I had gone to see her in the first place. I was used to being alone, but today I felt the need to talk to someone. Grandmother was the only relative I had in Tokyo, and I didn't have a close friend. I had thought perhaps there was a