"Smart fish," grunted Remo, noticing a Chinese woman duck back into her house at their approach.
"All fish are smart."
"That's why they call it brain food," said Remo.
"That was what Wang the Greater said. Eating fish improves the brain. It is one reason why Masters of Sinanju use their brains fully."
"It's rich in omega-3 fatty acids, too."
"I do not know what white voodoo it is you speak," Chiun said darkly.
"That means it's lower in cholesterol."
"Cholesterol is good for some people."
"Not for us."
Chiun lifted a finger skyward. The light caught his nail protector of imperial jade. "It is good for us if our opponents wallow in it. For then the advantage is ours."
"Good point," said Remo, who was starting to relax.
They passed an apartment building where the words Go Home Gook were scrawled on the asphalt driveway. Remo recognized Chiun's slashing strokes-not that there was any doubt. The words were gouged in the asphalt as if by a very sharp knife.
"You been trying to stampede the local Asians?" Remo asked.
"If they are easily frightened, they should not try to dwell among their betters."
"Tell that to the mayor's Task Force on Racial Harmony."
"As I was saying," Chiun continued, "the fish who dwelled off Sinanju, the carp and the tuna and the corbina, understood that they were food. So they avoided the shore waters, forcing the fishermen to go into the far waters to seek them. In the warm months this was only a bother. But in the winter months it could kill. For it was not possible to stand in bitter ice water waiting for a cunning fish to succumb to a lapse in judgment."
"Fish are smart because they eat other fish, right?"
"Correct. Now Bamboo-hatted Kim was in his dotage when the hunger of the villagers began to vex him. For he had ventured out many times to Japan and Cathay to serve the emperors who held sway over those realms. Kim grew weary of the long journeys that brought the gold that paid for the rice the villages could not grow and the fish they could not catch.
"It occurred to Kim, not yet known as Bamboo-hatted Kim, that there might be a better way. In those days he wore a hat like a great rice bowl of bamboo that was tied to his head by a catgut string so it would not fall off. One day, seeking his own supper, he waded out into the frigid waters of the bay with his line and hook of fish bone-for the best way to catch a fish is with one of its own sharp bones, Remo."
"I'll try to remember that."
Chiun resumed. "Kim was forced to wade out three entire ri because many fish had sought warmer waters. But at last he came to a place where the carp and the corbina swam in promising numbers. There he dropped his hook and waited.
"When a fish larger than the usual snapped at his hook, Kim thought the Dragon King had smiled on him. You know of the Dragon King, who lives under the waters, Remo?"
"Yeah. He was the Korean Neptune."
"The Romans mangled the truth as usual," Chiun sniffed. "No sooner had the carp taken Kim's line than Kim jerked his wrists to snap the fish living out of the water, where he would break its spine and claim it for his dinner."
"But the line snapped, right?"
"How did you know this, Remo?"
"Wild guess."
Chiun touched his tendril of a beard. "The line snapped. And the carp splashed back into the water to escape, leaving Kim with a three-ri walk back to his home and another three-ri wade back to his favorite fishing spot with a new line and still another three-ri trudge back to cook his dinner."
"That's a lot of ri."
"It was too many ri for Kim, who stood in kneedeep water and puzzled out a solution that would fill his belly with carp without tiring his legs. He wore the simple garments of those days, for the kimono had not been discovered. He was without sandals. Nor had he a belt. Kim had only his hat, which he removed from his head and contemplated at length.
"At that moment a silvery carp swam by, not suspecting that Kim's immobile legs belonged to one that sought its cold meat. With a flourish Kim dipped his bamboo hat into the cold water and lifted it high. As the water drained through the hat's coarse weave, the fish gasped and flopped and so trapped, it surrendered its life without Kim resorting to the cruelty of a hook.
"Carrying his meal in his hat, Bamboo-hatted Kim returned to his home and ate well that day."
"Good for him."
"The next day, Remo, he repeated this feat and was successful. Each day the villagers noticed that Bamboo-hatted Kim walked out in the cold water without hook or line and returned bearing a fish in his hat. And being the lazybones that they were in those days, they fell upon Bamboo-hatted Kim to return to the frigid water and bring them fish, too."
"Sounds like the Sinanju gene pool hasn't improved much in the last five thousand years."
Chiun let the comment pass.
"At first Kim was naturally reluctant. But the villagers plied him with honeyed words and promises of adoration. To these Kim was at first deaf. But one cunning wench with apple cheeks prevailed upon him in the end."
"It wouldn't be the first time someone traded a little nookie for food," said Remo.
"I have never heard of nookie. Is it an ocean fish or a river fish?"
"It's kinda like tuna," said Remo with a straight face.
"I will add it to the list under purple smoothie, another fish unknown in those days," Chiun said somberly.
"You do that," said Remo. "So that was the story of Bamboo-hatted Kim."
"No, that was the story of how Bamboo-hatted Kim earned his nickname. The lesson of Bamboo-hatted Kim is as follows-all that winter Kim went out into the frigid water to gather up the unsuspecting fish because the apple-cheeked wench had whispered a notion that appealed to Kim's lazy instincts. If he walked the three ri every day and brought back fish, he no longer needed to walk the hundreds of ri to Cathay or Egypt or Japan to ply his true trade. For in the those early days, it was the first duty of the Master of Sinanju to feed the village, who depended upon his fish-earning skills."
"Kim took a shortcut, huh?"
Chiun nodded. "An unfortunate one, for as time went on, he softened and grew indolent. Kim allowed himself to be reduced to a fisherman."
"Sounds like a reasonable approach to me."
Chiun eyed Remo critically. "No doubt some of Kim's indolent blood flows through your susceptible veins. We will work on this."
"So what happened?" asked Remo.
"Time passed. Weeks and months followed one another, and Kim found he had to wade farther and farther out because the intelligent fish soon learned to swim farther away, for they noticed that their numbers were dwindling. In time Kim was walking twelve ri. Then twenty. Then thirty. Eventually he reached the point where the water was over his head and his bamboo hat found no fish.
"When after three consecutive days Bamboohatted Kim returned to the village forlorn of countenance, wearing his empty hat instead of carrying it before him laden with carp and corbina, he was jeered by the lazy ones, including the apple-cheeked wench. And his heart was heavy. For there were no more carp or corbina to be scooped up. What had not been eaten, had fled, Remo. The villagers had waxed fat through the bounty Kim had brought back. But instead of living off their fat, as they did some winters, they hooted and jeered and spit upon Empty-headed Kim."
"You mean Bamboo-hatted Kim."
"He was both. For he was soon forced to walk the hundreds of ri to foreign thrones to ply his proper trade. By that time he had grown thick of waist and flabby of muscle."