Following the morning's disciplinary comedy, Jiale threw himself into preparing breakfast with the desperate enthusiasm of someone seeking redemption. The young disciple bustled about the kitchen, determined to restore his master's dignity before their distinguished guests through the universal language of good food.
"Master," Jiale called out as he worked over the stove, suddenly remembering something important, "I forgot to mention—Master Ikkyu from next door has returned!"
Simu's expression immediately soured. "And I suppose you expect me to rush over and kowtow to that bald fraud?"
The relationship between the Taoist hermit and his Buddhist neighbor had been contentious for decades, a rivalry born of proximity, opposing philosophies, and two stubborn personalities who refused to back down from even the pettiest disputes.
Jiale winced at his master's hostile tone. After this morning's embarrassments, the last thing he wanted was to provoke another outburst.
"Junior Brother," Lin Jiu interjected diplomatically, "since Master Ikkyu has returned from his travels, basic courtesy demands we at least acknowledge his presence. You've been neighbors for twenty years—surely some civility is possible?"
"If you want to waste time on pleasantries with that sanctimonious monk, be my guest," Simu replied stiffly. "I have better things to do with my morning."
As if summoned by their conversation, the sound of approaching footsteps could be heard outside. Moments later, a gentle knock echoed through the dojo.
"Speak of the devil," Gustave murmured under his breath, earning a sharp look from Lin Jiu.
The door opened to reveal Master Ikkyu himself—a middle-aged Buddhist monk whose serene features and peaceful bearing provided a stark contrast to Simu's perpetually irritated expression. Beside him stood a young woman in simple robes, clearly his newly acquired disciple.
"Humph!" Simu started to rise, clearly intending to make a dramatic exit, but Lin Jiu's firm grip on his shoulder kept him planted in his seat.
"Junior Brother," Lin Jiu said quietly but firmly, "Master Ikkyu has come to visit you personally. Leaving now would be... inappropriate."
Simu subsided with another sullen grunt, his posture radiating reluctant compliance.
"Master Ikkyu!" Lin Jiu stood and offered a proper greeting. "What an unexpected pleasure to see you again."
"Taoist Yimei," Ikkyu replied with genuine warmth, his voice carrying the measured cadence of someone accustomed to meditation and contemplation. "I didn't expect to find you visiting our mountain retreat. How delightful!"
"Please, allow me to introduce you," Lin Jiu said, gesturing toward Gustave. "This is Master Gustave, a dear friend and accomplished practitioner."
Ikkyu studied Gustave with obvious curiosity. Despite his western youthful appearance, something in the young man's bearing suggested depths that contradicted his age. "Master Gustave appears remarkably young to be addressed as a peer by someone of your caliber, Taoist Yimei. Might I ask which honored sect you represent?"
"Ah, My friend," Gustave replied with diplomatic vagueness, "I'm merely a wanderer who studies where opportunity permits. As for my master's lineage... such matters require his permission to discuss publicly."
Ikkyu nodded understandingly. "A hidden master, then. The mountains are full of such treasures—those who prefer obscurity to fame."
"Taoist Simu," Ikkyu continued, turning toward his neighbor with undiminished courtesy despite the latter's obvious hostility, "I heard some distressed cries this morning and wanted to ensure everything was well. I trust you're in good health?"
Simu's response was immediate and caustic. "Perfectly healthy, thank you. Healthy enough to outlive you by several decades, I'd expect."
The barbed comment would have offended most people, but Ikkyu merely smiled with the patient tolerance of someone long accustomed to his neighbor's abrasive personality.
"Junior Brother!" Lin Jiu said sharply, clearly mortified by such rudeness toward a guest.
"Hmph!" Simu turned his head away with childish defiance.
"Please forgive my junior brother," Lin Jiu said quickly to Ikkyu. "His social skills have... deteriorated somewhat during his years of mountain solitude."
"No offense taken," Ikkyu replied serenely. "After twenty years as neighbors, I've grown quite accustomed to Taoist Simu's unique manner of expression."
The subtle dig beneath Ikkyu's polite words wasn't lost on anyone present, and Simu's scowl deepened accordingly.
"Master Ikkyu," Lin Jiu said, attempting to defuse the tension, "Jiale is just finishing breakfast preparations. Would you and your disciple care to join us? It would be our honor to share a simple meal."
"How gracious of you," Ikkyu accepted immediately, his motivation only partially related to hunger. After decades of rivalry, he knew that leaving now would give Simu enormous satisfaction. Staying to eat his neighbor's food, on the other hand, would provide delicious irritation.
Soon Jiale appeared, carrying two low tables with his master's new disciple, a young woman named Qingqing, assisting him. The breakfast was modest but wholesome: several bowls of rice porridge, a plate of salted peanuts, fermented tofu, and pickled vegetables. Simple fare, but prepared with care and representing the honest sustenance of mountain dwelling.
Initially, the presence of Lin Jiu as mediator and Gustave as an honored guest kept the peace. Both Simu and Ikkyu maintained at least a veneer of civilized behavior as they took their seats and began the meal.
That fragile truce lasted approximately five minutes.
It began when Ikkyu reached for the pickled vegetables with his chopsticks, only to have Simu's utensils immediately intercept the attempt, pushing the dish away from his neighbor's reach.
Ikkyu smoothly redirected toward the fermented tofu. Again, Simu's chopsticks blocked the move.
"Qingqing," Jiale whispered urgently to Ikkyu's disciple, "perhaps we should eat elsewhere?"
The young woman looked puzzled. "But wouldn't that be terribly rude to our hosts?"
"Trust me," Jiale muttered, quickly scooping food into his bowl, "you're about to understand why I suggested it."
He retreated toward the doorway, leaving Qingqing to discover the wisdom of his advice through direct experience.
"Excusez-moi," Gustave said quietly, following Jiale's example by gathering some food and withdrawing to a safe observation distance. "I believe I'll enjoy my breakfast with a view of the mountains."
Lin Jiu remained at the table, caught between his duty as a mediator and the growing impossibility of his task.
The conflict escalated when Ikkyu, tired of Simu's interference, simply claimed the entire plate of fermented tofu for himself. Simu's chopsticks stabbed forcefully toward the now-empty spot where the dish had been, piercing the wooden table with enough force to embed the utensils an inch deep.
Ikkyu smiled with serene satisfaction as he selected a piece of the appropriated delicacy. However, his moment of victory was short-lived—Simu yanked his chopsticks free and struck Ikkyu's hand just as the fermented tofu reached his mouth.
The morsel flew through the air in a perfect arc, landing with a wet splat directly on Qingqing's face.
"Oh no," the young woman gasped, but her dismay was premature. The brief skirmish had officially escalated into full warfare.
Pieces of fermented tofu began flying in all directions as both combatants abandoned any pretense of civilized dining. Lin Jiu's chopstick skills allowed him to pluck projectiles from mid-air with casual precision, but poor Qingqing possessed no such defensive capabilities.
Splat! Splat! Splat!
Each direct hit drove her closer to tears until she finally abandoned her bowl and fled toward the doorway, her face decorated with an abstract pattern of fermented bean curd.
"Waste not, want not," Jiale said pragmatically, scraping the food from Qingqing's face into his own bowl as she passed.
The battle had now reached what military historians might term "total war" status. Both Simu and Ikkyu were grabbing entire dishes and hurling their contents at each other while maintaining a running commentary.
"Eat!" Simu shouted, launching a handful of peanuts.
"Eat yourself!" Ikkyu replied, retaliating with pickled vegetables.
"Eat peanuts!"
"Eat pickles!"
Lin Jiu, recognizing the futility of intervention, beat a strategic retreat to join the spectators near the doorway.
Gustave chuckled, thoroughly entertained by the spectacle. "And I thought professional chefs could be temperamental."
The decisive moment came when Simu managed to land two peanuts directly in Ikkyu's nostrils, the perfect shots eliciting triumphant laughter from the Taoist.
"Hahahaha! Bulls-eye! Direct hit!"
But Ikkyu's response demonstrated why Buddhist meditation training included breath control exercises. Tilting his head back, he expelled the peanuts with such precision that they flew directly into Simu's open, laughing mouth.
"Pah! Pah!" Simu spat desperately, trying to clear the unwanted snacks from his throat.
Gustave couldn't contain himself any longer. "Hahaha!" he burst out, spitting a mouthful of porridge in his amusement. "These two are absolutely impossible!"
"Haha! How do my peanuts taste?" Ikkyu taunted, raising his porridge bowl in mock celebration.
But Simu had saved his most underhanded tactic for last. While Ikkyu was distracted by gloating, the Taoist delivered a swift kick directly to his neighbor's most vulnerable anatomy.
"OOF!" Ikkyu's eyes bulged as he instinctively clamped his legs together, his victory celebration cut brutally short.
In desperation, he grabbed one of Simu's shoes and hurled it, but his aim was compromised by pain and Simu easily dodged.
"Hahaha! You missed!" Simu spread his arms wide in theatrical triumph. "Victory is mine!"
"No more... games... too underhanded..." Ikkyu managed to gasp out as he limped away, one hand clutching his injured dignity.
"Hahahaha! Come back anytime for another lesson!" Simu called after his retreating neighbor, basking in his pyrrhic victory.
Lin Jiu could only sigh helplessly as he surveyed the disaster zone that had once been their breakfast table. Food covered nearly every surface, the furniture was overturned, and the two grown men had just concluded what might generously be called the world's messiest martial arts demonstration.