Читать книгу Traditions. Essays on the Japanese Martial Arts and Ways онлайн

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Presently, the noren parted. Three young ronin ambled in, dusty and blinking in the darkness of the nomiya, their eyes still accustomed to the bright sun outside. They gave their orders in curt, tired voices to the proprietor who in turn snapped irritably at his assistant. Only after they had slumped wearily onto the floor matting and been served tea did they notice the swordsman by the window. Perhaps it was because they were shamed by the quality of the swords they carried. Ronin were men of samurai rank who, for one reason or another, were not in the service of a lord. They tended to be an uncouth lot. Looking at the fine weapon of the other diner, perhaps they felt a need to display their toughness. Probably, however, the young ronin were just hot and tired and ill-tempered, and the odd-looking swordsman was an easy target for their teasing.

One of the ronin began slurping his tea loudly, mocking the swordsman, who continued to slurp his noodles. The others laughed, and another of them grabbed at the hair above his own forehead and mussed it wildly, mocking the swordsman’s unsightly skin condition, while the third rolled his eyes.