"Hints" by Fred J. Hu

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Hints

The silence was infectious. Voices trailed off, chairs stopped creaking, and the sound of eating was nonexistent in the normally raucous food court.

Then, a sound. A footstep. The age-old sandals slapped against the floor, as if eager to provide for the sound they had siphoned away.

A single man had entered the mall through its polished glass sliding doors. His own sweeping white robe reflected off its surface, as if heralding the arrival of His Majesty. A simple woven bamboo hat lay lopsided on his head, like a small, unruly bird on its perch.

The man coughed, then straightened his hat with a quick hand.

He took another step. Slap.

Slap. Slap.

The man padded easily towards one of the restaurants. He wrinkled his nose once at the distracting neon sign before heading to the counter to place his order.

The entire building seemed to let out a sigh, and the spell was broken. Disturbed gazes were broken off, loud conversation worming its way into every person’s mind, until only a single boy had eyes at all for the man. Only the boy would see how the man nervously fingered the black lacquer sword-sheath at his side as he received his food and sat down at an empty table.

With a small scraping sound, the boy sat up. He gathered the remnants his meal onto his tray, then took a meandering path through all the tables, finally stopping at the one where the man had taken a seat.

“Hi, I’m Alex, mind if I sit here?” Alex waited for a second, then pulled out a chair and sat down. He noted that the man’s food was untouched. The man laughed for a moment, his voice like the deep growl of a lion. It was almost friendly. Alex merely shrugged, then bent down to finish the rest of his meal. When he looked up, the man’s food was gone, and he still hadn’t moved an inch.

“How…”

The man stifled a belch, then glanced at Alex, as if seeing him for the first time.

            “My name is Carsten, by the way.” He spoke in a thickly foreign accent. German, Alex guessed.

Carsten held out a hand. Alex was taken off-guard for a moment, although after a moment of consideration, he held out his own.

They shook hands.

            “So why did you sit here?” Carsten asked, a rueful smirk appearing on his face.

            “I needed a place to sit,” Alex replied with a wry smile.

            There was a silence as the two sat back in their chairs, examining the other. Their gazes met and held for a moment, until Alex blinked. There were a few things wrong with Carsten that intrigued him, but he started with the most obvious one.

            “What’s up with that sword?” Alex waved vaguely at the offending object.

            Carsten chuckled for a moment. He placed an affectionate hand on the sword hilt that barely protruded from its sheath.

            “This is no sword,” Carsten rumbled. Alex raised an eyebrow at that, although he quickly changed tack.

            “Can I see it, then?”

The question was innocent enough. Carsten made his rumbling laugh, then moved a hand to the sword hilt. There was no epic clink or ring of metal, or even a single sound as the hilt came out from the sheath.

The hilt had no blade.

“Here,” Carsten said, passing the hilt across the table. The hilt was jet black, with the decoration of a coiled golden dragon in the middle that snaked around and gave the whole thing a seemingly awkward grip. The hilt seemed to absorb the light around it, resolutely remaining a solid black.

Alex held out a hand to touch it. Carsten quickly snatched the hilt out from under him, returning it to its sheath.

“So there’s no real blade?” Alex asked, even more curious.

Carsten looked pointedly away, as if distracted by something. Alex tried to look in the same direction, although there was only the counter to order ‘delicious hamburgers and salads’ in that direction.

Carsten stared at Alex for a few moments. Alex began to fidget in his chair when Carsten spoke.

“I’m still hungry…it’d be nice if someone could get me some more food.”

            Alex smiled. He lived in a college dorm, he knew what that meant.

~~~~~~~~~

“Story time,” Alex said, laying down a tray laden with sandwiches. He watched, amused, as Carsten tore into one of the sandwiches. The food disappeared ridiculously. Alex wondered when the man’s last meal had been.

Carsten hiccupped as he finished eating, then pushed the remainder of the food off to the side.

“So what did you want to know?” Carsten asked, suddenly business-like.

“You have a very Asian-style sword and hat…” Alex started.

“I travel a lot.”

“You couldn’t at least leave the…‘sword’ behind before walking in here?”

“The sword stays by my side.”

There was a blunt forwardness to the method of which the man answered questions. Alex found himself at a loss for a moment, then decided to just ask the first question to pop into his head.

“Why did you ask me to buy food for you?” Alex asked, wanting to continue the conversation.

Carsten sat up a little straighter in his chair, eyeing Alex up and down. Alex had the distinct feeling he was being slightly more cautious with him now.

“Why did you buy food for me?” Carsten asked back.

“Because I was interested in you.”

            Carsten let out a small breath, then sat back in his chair again.

            “Then, the same here, then.”

Alex furrowed his eyebrows. He let Carsten get up, unharmed from any further questions. As he bent down to take the trays, there was a very slight, almost inaudible jingle of metal. The sound reverberated around the area for a moment, as if willing itself to be free.

The sound slowly registered with Alex. He examined Carsten for a single moment as he began to leave the same direction he had come.

            “Wait!” Alex shouted, hurrying after Carsten. He waited for a moment as Alex caught up to him.

            “You figured it out,” Carsten said. “I’m impressed.”

            “Show me your sword again,” Alex said, hardly believing himself.

Carsten smiled, then placed a hand on the hilt of his sword. There was almost a visible effort as he tugged it out this time.

The silence was infectious. Voices trailed off, chairs stopped creaking, and the sound of eating was nonexistent in the normally raucous food court.

There was a cheerful chime of metal as the sword slipped free of its prison. There was now a full-length steel blade attached to the hilt, with crimson streaks running down the sides.

Then, a sound. A footstep. The age-old sandals slapped against the floor, as if eager to provide for the sound they had siphoned away.

A single man left the mall through its polished glass sliding doors. His own sweeping white robe reflected off its surface, as if heralding the departure of His Majesty. A simple woven bamboo hat lay lopsided on his head, like a small, unruly bird on its perch.