“Trust me, it will make you feel ten times better.”
“I don't think so.”
“It will make you feel one hundred times better!”
“I doubt it.”
“How do you know unless you try?”
“Just leave me alone, okay?”
“No way. You're coming with me.”
Fu heard scuffling. Someone grunted.
“You're hurting me,” Ho said.
“Quit complaining,” Ma replied. “We're almost there.”
Fu sat up when he saw the boys approaching, the large one with the smaller one draped over his shoulder. Ma set Ho down in front of the cage and stood beside him.
“Watch,” Ma said. He inhaled deeply through his nose, making a tremendous noise as he constricted his windpipe just the right amount. A wad of thick mucus was slowly drawn out of his nose and into the back of his throat. With his windpipe still constricted, Ma forced air out of his lungs and popped the wad out of his throat and into his mouth. Then he raised his lower lip up to contain the glob and spoke slowly as a line of saliva slipped out, running down his chin.
“Catch this, monk,” he slurred.
Ma closed his mouth around the lump and pursed his lips. He inhaled deeply through his nose, curled his tongue, and let it fly
Fu didn't flinch. He watched as the glob hit one of the bamboo cage bars, sticking briefly before oozing slowly downward.
“So close!” Ma said, wiping his mouth across his robe's gray sleeve. “I think I have enough ammo for one more shot—”
“Excuse me,” Fu interrupted. “May I say something?”
Ma pointed his finger at Fu and glared. “You don't have anything to say that I'm interested in hearing.”
“With all due respect,” Fu said politely, “I don't have anything to say to you. I have something to say to Ho. It will only take a moment.”
“I don't think—” Ma began to say.
“Let him talk,” Ho interrupted, stepping forward. “I'd like to hear what he has to say.”
Ma nodded his head. “Let's hear it then, monk.”
“I am very sorry I attacked you,” Fu said, looking directly at Ho. He folded his hands in his lap. “It was wrong, and I sincerely apologize. If you wish to hit me with something, I understand completely. Only I suggest you use an item that transmits force a little better than spit. Take hold of a spear or staff, and I'll place my head between the bars. Hit me as hard as you can.”
“No,” Ho said, shaking his head. “I don't think so.”
“Please,” Fu said. “Please, hit me. Treat me as I have treated you. Treat me ten times worse. It will make me feel better. I deserve it.”
“It won't make me feel any better,” Ho replied. “I don't get pleasure from hurting people.”
“I'll hit him!” Ma offered. “It will make me feel better!”
“No,” said Ho. “You're not going to hit him.”
“Come on,” Ma said. “I'll just hit him once. Right in the ear—”
“NO!” Ho said defiantly. He stomped his foot. “No one is going to hit anyone on my account!”
Ma took a few steps back and frowned. Fu recognized the tension in Ho's voice and spoke to him softly. Softer than he had ever spoken to anyone before.
“Okay, Ho,” Fu said. “Nobody has to hit anybody. But I would still like to do something for you. How about if I teach you to fight?”
“No!” Ho said, folding his arms. “I don't want to learn how to fight.”
“But if you learn how to fight, you can defend yourself against people like me in the future,” Fu said. “No one will ever hurt you again.”
“No.”
“Well,” Fu said, “what do you want?”
“Wait!” Ma interrupted. “I have an idea! Hey, monk, why don't you teach me to fight?”
Fu looked to Ho for a reaction. Ho looked at the ground.
“All right,” Fu said, still looking at Ho. “Since you don't want to learn how to fight, I'll teach your friend Ma. Then he can protect you.”
“Whatever,” said Ho, turning away. He headed for the bun shop across the square.
The sun was still low in the morning sky as Fu and Ma stared at each other through the bars of the bamboo cage. Fu sat cross-legged, his hands on his knees. Ma stood firm and straight.
“Ma means ‘horse,'” Fu said. “Right?”
Ma rolled up his sleeves. “Yes. So?”
“If your mother named you appropriately, your legs should be quite strong,” Fu replied. “Is this true?”
“Yes,” Ma said. “What are you trying to say?”