‘Because it means someone has died,’ said Akiko, in a hushed tone, bowing. ‘Only at a funeral service are hashi stuck into the rice. The bowl is then placed at the head of the deceased so that they won’t starve in the next world.’

‘Why didn’t you tell me that before?’ fumed Jack under his breath. ‘Everything I do is thought of as rude by you people. Come to England and your habits would be thought of as very odd. I’m sure even you could offend somebody!’

‘I’m sorry, Jack,’ said Akiko timorously, bowing her head. ‘I apologize. It’s my fault for not teaching you properly.’

‘And will you stop apologizing!’ shouted Jack, holding his head in his hands with sheer frustration.

Akiko went very quiet. Jack glanced up. The students on his table were pretending hard to ignore them, but it was clear that his tone with Akiko had been entirely inappropriate. Yamato glared at him but said nothing.

‘I’m sorry, Akiko,’ Jack mumbled. ‘You’re only trying to help me. It’s just so difficult speaking, thinking and living like a Japanese all the time.’

‘I understand, Jack. Now please enjoy the meal,’ she replied flatly.

Jack continued to work his way through the various bowls, in rotation, but they had somewhat lost their flavour. He hated the fact he had upset Akiko, and even worse he had shouted at her in front of other people. He was sure she had ‘lost face’ by his actions. When Jack looked up again, the boy with the sun kamon was still staring at him, a belligerent scowl on his face.

‘Akiko,’ he said, bowing his head and speaking loud enough for those around them to hear. ‘Please accept my humblest apologies for my behaviour. I’m still tired from our journey.’

‘Thank you for your apology, Jack,’ she said, and with the apology formally accepted, the atmosphere round the table immediately lightened and everyone resumed their polite conversations.

‘Please, would you tell me who that boy is?’ asked Jack, relieved that he had managed to restore some degree of accord. Maybe he was beginning to appreciate the intricacies of Japanese etiquette after all, he thought.

‘I don’t know,’ she replied.

‘I do,’ offered an enthusiastic lad opposite Jack on the table. ‘He’s in the same year as us. His name is Oda Kazuki, son of daimyo Oda Satoshi, second cousin to the Imperial Line. That is why he bears the kamon of the Imperial Sun. Some would consider the Oda family to be rather high and mighty. Perhaps that’s the reason his father named him, Kazuki. It means “Shining One”.’

They all stared at the boy with growing amazement as he continued to talk unabated. He was a rather plain-looking lad with a chubby face whose only outstanding feature were his eyebrows, thick black caterpillars fixed in a permanent expression of surprise.