The Master had said there was something immature about the younger man, and it was true that Mr. Itakura was rather boyish. He wasn’t good at talking about work, the state of the war or the economy, but excelled at drawing manga and making paper planes. When the older man was around he was as quiet as a mouse, but at other times was lively and engaging. When they drank together, each would inevitably doze off when the other was talking animatedly.
The Master probably only saw him as an exceedingly well-behaved young man, which was quite a miscalculation on his part.
It was an extremely hot and humid afternoon when Mr. Itakura climbed the hill to the house, his shirtsleeves rolled up. He came around to the garden and presented himself at the veranda. Apparently emboldened upon hearing the
