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Sun Hsiung put his forearms on the points of his knees。 〃You shot the。。。 man who was holding you。 You discharged one bullet； which entered his skull through the socket of his left eye。 It splintered the ridge of bone just above and lodged in his brain。〃
〃He's。。。 dead？〃
〃Quite。〃
She swallowed hard。
〃And the other one？〃
〃He was ing for you when I arrived on the scene。 He was going to kill you； I believe。 I had to stop him。〃
Akiko opened her mouth to ask another question but immediately thought better of it。 〃They may send more。〃
Sun Hsiung shrugged。 〃Perhaps。〃
She put her finger around the trigger and hefted the pistol。 〃I'll shoot them； too。〃
Sun Hsiung considered her for a moment。 He had not asked her who it was who might send more thugs after her or even why these had been dispatched。 〃That would be most unwise； I think。〃
Her look was defiant。 〃Why？ It saved my life。〃 He rose； leaving her there in silence to learn her first lesson。
It was not the pistol that had saved Akiko's life but the advent of Sun Hsiung's intervention。 When she had worked that through sufficiently so that she could see the ramifications； she unwound from her sitting position and went to him。
He was outside； in back； tending to his tiny； exquisite bonsai garden。 Akiko stood at the edge of it； a giant blundering into a minute world。
〃I want to learn；〃 she said softly。
The rice…paper lantern swung from its black iron hook； its light falling across Sun Hsiung's shoulders as he toiled。 He did not turn around or make any motion that he had heard her or； indeed； was aware of her presence at all。
〃I want you to teach me what you know。〃
She looked down at the weapon she was still holding in her hand。 There was an odd kind of security in its heft and warmth in her hand。 And it was something of her mother's。
Slowly； carefully； she made her way through the tiny sculptured trees to where he was working on hands and knees。
〃Please；〃 she whispered； kneeling down as best she could in the narrow stone path and bending far forward in a kowtow。 She extended the firearm in her open palm。 〃Take this as payment。 It is all I have。〃
Sun Hsiung set his gleaming tools aside and slowly turned around。 He bowed to her and； lifting the pistol from her open hand； murmured； 〃Domo arigato； Kodomo…gunjin。〃
She had almost killed herself that night as well as the thug。 That was why her forehead was bandaged； why； when she finally removed it； there was a reddish weal that gradually metamorphosed into a small white furrow of puckered skin。 The bullet that eventually killed her assailant had nicked her as well。 Too close。 She was glad she had given the pistol to Sun Hsiung。
The beginnings of her training surprised her。 Days menced at five in the morning。 Pupil and sensei began their exercises in the dark； building wind； the cardiovascular system。 In the pale light of dawn they were into Tai Chi Chuan； slow； languorous movements that increased a sense of balance and limb coordination not unlike ballet。
From midmorning to midafternoon Sun Hsiung left her alone in the house to read selections of certain books he would provide for her。 Akiko was an excellent reader； with superb retention and a large vocabulary。 She was diligent in her studies； at times even rapt。
When Sun Hsiung returned from his daily errands abroad they would retire to the bonsai garden and the variables of the weather； each with a rice…paper pad； a small sable brush； and a pot of ink。 At first Akiko was nonplussed。 Her heart was burning with fury and often she shook from an excess of released adrenaline。 Her head buzzed with swirling emotions and she would call up those memories from that night； all fear leeched from her； instead； a cold； calculating hatred growing wildly like a weed in an untended garden。
So she balked at the idea of painting。 She could put up with the rather gentle Tai Chi； the long hours of studious repose but this。。。 this was just too much。
The first time she was handed the pad and brush； she said as much。 Sun Hsiung looked down at her and said； 〃Kodomo…gunjin； I fear that I have named you too well。 You must learn peace before you can be taught the ways of war。〃
〃But painting。。。〃 Her tone made the word synonymous with garbage collection。
Silently； Sun Hsiung considered whether he had made a mistake。 He wondered if this wild young thing could be taught the most difficult lesson of patience。 He shrugged inwardly。 Her own karma would determine that； it was his karma to teach her。 After that。。。
〃Before we can start on the protective aspects of your training； your heart must be purged of hatred；〃 he said。 〃To do that you will require a conduit。 I place the leech on the inside of your arm and blood is drained from you。〃
〃But they will not wait long to e after me again。〃
〃You are no longer alone in the world； Kodomo…gunjin；〃 he said； placing the pot of ink beside her。
Her eyes swung away from him and contemplated the vast； snowy expanse of the paper lying on her lap。 〃But I don't know how to paint；〃 she said in a plaintive voice。
Sun Hsiung smiled down at her。 〃Then let us begin with the fundamentals。〃
Over the succeeding months painting became her favorite part of the day； and she came to cherish the sound of her sensei's key in the lock at precisely the same time each day。 Lifting her head up； she would look out the window to see the sun striking the bamboo wall of the tiny garden and recognize the light for the finest of the day。 Eagerly； then； she would close her books and gather up their painting materials； meeting him at the fusuma out to the garden； her mind quivering in anticipation of the new lesson。
Too； at first； the advent of afternoon rain would depress her； for that certain light would not be present and they would forsake their painting and turn to other lessons。 But later on； when she became more adept； she would look forward to the rain for then they would sit just inside the open fusuma where it was warm and dry and begin to use the diffuse light； the oblique intermittent lines of the rain as the basis for their paintings。
How could Akiko have ever thought that she would be so elated by foul weather？ When others were slowly wending their way home through the slicked streets； bent over beneath their ama…gasa against the rain and wind； shivering and damp； she would be busy dipping her brush in ink； putting it to paper。
And； so gradually that she was not at first aware of it； the hatred did indeed fade from her heart； flowing out through the creative conduit Sun Hsiung intuited was right for her。 Her paintings softened； flowing more easily over the paper； gaining a kind of organic power that gathered in her lines and spaces； impressing even the sensei who had spent so long at this pursuit。
Thus there came a time when Sun Hsiung judged it right for her to begin the more difficult aspects of her training。 On a day when the snow had fallen heavily； a sere blanket covering the greens and browns of Japan； he kept her up all night； beginning the long process。 He did this with full knowledge of what this might do to her and to him。 For in truth he had never before had a female pupil and had