(Viking Puffin ISBN: 978-0142404065)
The priest lay across his path, like a log that had rolled down the mountainside and come to rest where the path cut between two outcroppings of stone; and at first that was what Ando thought he was seeing. The priest’s orange robes looked like leaves or peeling bark in the light of the setting sun. Not until he stood over him did Ando notice the closed eyes, the ridiculously long nose, the gray beard, the small black tokin cap topping that slumbering face. From the robes and cap, he knew he was looking at a yamabushi priest -- an outlaw monk.
His hand went to his sword and he glanced around warily. Had the priest been struck down? Had some irate military governor sent samurai after him? But no blood stained his robes, and his head seemed securely attached. Really, it looked as if he’d just stretched out and gone to sleep with the rocks keeping him from rolling away.
Meanwhile, the sun was setting, and Ando fretted that he still had a long climb ahead of him. He didn't want to leave the path. Besides, if the monk was dead, then there was nothing to do. If he was asleep, it was best to leave him alone.
Hefting his pack, Ando raised his foot up over the priest.
A hand shot from the robes, clutched the sole of Ando’s sandal and propelled him into the air. He pinwheeled high around his pack, only to land on his feet -- although not through any skill of his own.
Now he was above the priest, but the priest hadn’t moved. His eyes remained closed and his hand had vanished into the orange folds of his robe again.
"Sir?" Ando said.
The priest didn’t stir.
Now what do I say? he wondered. He scratched behind his ear. Across the valley, the sun had almost disappeared behind the ridge. There was no time to puzzle this out. "Thank you," said Ando, and he turned to go.
Behind him, a voice replied, "I stop you from stepping on me and rather than apologizing, you tell me 'thank you'? That’s uncommonly strange."
Ando swung about. "I would never have stepped on you."
"Indeed." The priest sprang up like a sapling that had been tied back until the rope snapped. "And I suppose you'd never pour boiling copper down my throat, either."
Ando blinked. "It would never have occurred to me. Boiling copper?"
The priest gestured dismissively. "I’ve had worse."
....