The cherry blossom tree in the centre of the garden marked Jack's time in
Japan. When he had arrived, it had been lush and green. A cool haven
where he had sheltered from the hot summer sun. Now, three months later,
his arm completely healed, the cherry blossom tree's leaves had turned a
golden brown and were starting to fall to the ground.
The tree was Jack's place of sanctuary. He had sat there for hours
studying his father's rutter, examining the meticulously drawn
constellations, tracing the outlines of coastal maps, and on every page
trying to unlock the secret ciphers that protected the mysteries of the seas
from enemy eyes. One day, his father had promised, he would be given the
solutions to all these codes. But now his father was dead, Jack had only his
wits to work the rest of them out and, with each one he managed to solve,
the closer he felt he was to his father.
Yet the tree was also a symbolic bridge, a link through which he had
slowly come to understand the Japanese culture. For it was here that he met
with Akiko most afternoons to practise speaking her language.
Three days after Masamoto had left for Kyoto, she had heard Jack
struggling to pronounce a Japanese phrase that Father Lucius had given him
to memorize and had offered to help him.
'Arigatō, Akiko,' he had replied and then repeated the corrected phrase
several times to etch it into his memory.
So their afternoons had begun and, combined with Father Lucius's
lessons, his Japanese improved rapidly. Akiko had been a lifeline to him.
With each passing week, Jack had been able to converse more and more
fluently.
Yamato, on the other hand, in spite of his father's edict to be his friend,
had maintained an icy distance. Jack could have been invisible for all the
boy cared.
'Why does Yamato not speak to me?' he had asked Akiko one day. 'Did I
do something wrong?'
'No, Jack,' she replied with deliberate courtesy. 'He is your friend.'
'Everyone is my friend but only because Masamoto orders them,' Jack
shot back.
'He has not ordered me,' she said, a flicker of hurt showing in her eyes.
Jack, realizing he had been rude, tried desperately to think of the
appropriate Japanese words to apologize. Apologizing, Father Lucius had
explained to Jack, was considered a virtue in Japan. Unlike Europeans, who
view an apology to be an admission of one's own guilt or failure, the
Japanese see it as taking responsibility for one's actions and avoiding
blaming others. When one apologizes and shows remorse, the Japanese are
willing to forgive and not hold a grudge.
'I'm very sorry, Akiko,' Jack had eventually said. 'You have been very
kind to me.'
She bowed, accepting his apology, and they had continued with their
conversation, his prickly remark forgotten.
Today, as he approached the spot to begin his studies, Jack noticed the
cherry blossom tree had shed many more of its leaves, leaving a golden
carpet beneath its branches. Uekiya the gardener was sweeping them away,
stuffing the dead leaves into an old sack.
Jack went to pick up the rake and help the old man in his task.
'This is not work for samurai,' stated the gardener gently, taking the rake
out of Jack's hands.
At that moment, Akiko crossed the bridge and made her way over to
them. Jack noticed she wore a lilac kimono dotted with ivory flowers and
tied with a yellow-gold obi. He could never quite get used to how
immaculate the Japanese women always were.
Jack and Akiko settled beneath the tree and Uekiya, bowing, moved
away to tend one of his already perfectly pruned bushes. They began their
afternoon lesson. But before they had progressed very far, Jack asked her
about the gardener's strange comment to him.
'How can I be samurai? I don't even have a sword.'
'Being samurai is not only about wielding a sword. True, samurai are
warriors, for we are bushi, the warrior class. As Masamoto's adopted son,
you are now also samurai.' Akiko paused to allow her words to sink in.
'And samurai means "to serve". A samurai's loyalty is to the Emperor first
and then to his daimyo. It is about duty. And your duty is to Masamoto. Not
to the garden.'
'I still don't understand.' What other duties would Masamoto require of
him? Was he tied to this samurai for life?
'You will. Being samurai is an attitude of mind. Masamoto will teach you
this.'
As Jack tried to grasp Akiko's meaning, Yamato strode out of the house
carrying a shaft of dark wood. It was about the length of his arm, one-third
of it rounded into a sturdy handle, the other two-thirds hewn into a long
blade that curved slightly towards its tip.
'What's that he's carrying?' asked Jack.
'A bokken. It's a wooden sword.'
Yamato saw them, bowed stiffly then marched over to a clear patch of
garden.
'What? A toy sword!' laughed Jack, seeing Yamato whirl the bokken
above his head and execute a vicious strike on an imaginary opponent.
'Toy? No, a bokken is no toy,' said Akiko suddenly becoming serious. 'It
can kill a man. Masamoto-sama himself has defeated more than thirty
samurai using a bokken against their swords.'
'So what is Yamato doing now? It looks like playing to me.'
Yamato had repeated the strike, then followed through with a series of
cuts and blocks.
'Kata. They are set patterns of movements that help a samurai to perfect
his martial skills. Yamato is learning the art of sword fighting.'
'Well, if I am a samurai, I had better learn how to fight too,' said Jack,
adjusting his kimono and standing.
Ignoring Akiko's protests, Jack strode over to where Yamato was
practising. He watched with interest, studying his moves and technique. All
the while, Yamato ignored him and continued to parry and thrust at his
imaginary opponent.
'May I try?' asked Jack, when Yamato had apparently decapitated his
attacker with a powerful cross-cut.
Yamato slid the bokken into his obi and inspected Jack as if he were a
fresh recruit. For a moment, Jack thought the boy would refuse in order to
prove his authority over him.
'Why not, gaijin,' said Yamato with a look of haughty amusement. 'It
would be good to have a target to practise on. Jiro,' he called, 'fetch me a
bokken for the gaijin!'
The little boy came scampering out of the house with a second wooden
sword in his arms. Struggling to carry an object that was taller than he was,
Jiro gave the weapon to Yamato who, bowing with his two hands
outstretched, offered the bokken to Jack.
Jack stepped forward to take it.
'NO! You must bow when given the honour of using another's sword.'
Jack riled at Yamato's command, but did as he was told. He dearly
wanted to handle the weapon, to know how to use it like he had seen
Masamoto wield his two swords on the beach.
'And take it with two hands,' instructed Yamato as if Jack were a little
boy.
Grasping it with both hands, Jack found the wooden sword to be
surprisingly heavy. He could now appreciate how such a weapon could
inflict damage devastating enough to kill.
'NO! Blade down,' corrected Yamato, when Jack held the bokken out in
front of him as he had seen Yamato do. He turned the bokken the right way
up in Jack's hands.
'Don't let the kissaki drop!' Yamato rolled his eyes in disbelief at Jack's
ignorance.
'Kissaki?' questioned Jack.
'The tip of the bokken. Keep it in line with the your opponent's throat.
One foot forward. One foot back. Wider. You must stand strong.'
Warming to his role as teacher, Yamato paced round Jack, fastidiously
adjusting Jack's stance and form until he was satisfied.
'That'll have to do. First, we will practise kihon – the basics. A simple
parry and strike.'
Yamato stood opposite Jack and lined his kissaki up with Jack's. An
instant later, he struck Jack's bokken. The weapon shuddered in Jack's
hands, sending a shock wave of pain up his arms and forcing him to drop it.
Yamato's blade struck forward and stopped a hair's breadth from Jack's
throat. Yamato stared Jack contemptuously in the face, daring him to move.
'Don't they teach you how to fight where you come from? You hold it
like a girl,' admonished Yamato. 'Pick it up. Don't grip with your thumb
and forefinger next time. That is weak, your hold can be broken easily.
Look at mine. Place the little finger of your left hand round the base of the
handle. Then wrap the rest of your fingers round the remainder of the hilt.
The bottom two fingers should be tight. Your right hand should be just
below the guard, and grip it in the same manner as your left. This is correct
tenouchi.'
Yamato was enjoying the spectacle he was making of Jack in front of
Akiko and Jiro. He obviously relished the feeling of superiority it gave him,
so much so that he failed to notice Akiko's mortified reaction to his
behaviour.
No matter, thought Jack. He would soon learn how to use the bokken and
then he could teach Yamato a lesson or two.
Once Jack had mastered the grip, Yamato repeated the attack. This time
Jack kept hold of the bokken.
'Good. Now you try.'
Jack found the movement of the strike awkward at first. It was difficult to
get enough force behind the parry, but Yamato made him repeat the
movement again and again until the technique began to flow.
They practised through the afternoon, Yamato teaching Jack three other
kihon moves: a basic cut, an evasive manoeuvre and a simple defensive
block. The kata training was surprisingly hard work and after a while Jack
began to tire. Having done little physical exercise since his time on-board
ship, the bokken was beginning to feel like lead in his hands. Yamato was
clearly pleased to see Jack flagging.
'Want to try some randori now?' challenged Yamato.
'What's that?' said Jack, out of breath.
'Free-sparring. Best out of three?'
'Excuse me, Yamato,' interrupted Akiko, hoping to avert the trouble she
foresaw coming. 'May I suggest that you both join me for sencha? You
have practised much and should rest.'
'No, thank you, Akiko. I'm not thirsty. But Jack looks like he could do
with a rest.'
Jack knew Yamato was trying to break him. Jack recognized this moment
from his time on-board the Alexandria. The men who had not stood up for
themselves the first week were the ones last in line for food, the ones
shoved to the hammocks nearest the bilge, the ones lumbered with the worst
duties, like scrubbing the scuppers where the crew relieved themselves.
Jack had to prove he was not someone who could easily be beaten. If he
backed down now, he would forever be trying to regain his ground
'No, thank you, Akiko. I'm not tired.'
'But your arm?' she insisted. 'It is not wise to –'
'I'll be fine,' said Jack, politely cutting her off before turning back to
Yamato. 'Randori, eh? Best out of three. Why not?'
They faced off, kissaki touching.
Jack's hands were slippery with sweat. He tried to remember the moves:
the footwork, the parry, the block, the strike. He readied himself, but
Yamato struck first. He knocked Jack's bokken aside and slammed his own
down on to Jack's exposed fingers. Jack cried out in shock and pain,
dropping his bokken.
'Too slow,' said Yamato, a sadistic smile spreading across his face. 'I
could see you thinking the move before you made it.'
Jack bent to pick up his weapon. His fingers throbbed and he had
difficulty closing his hand round the bokken. He gritted his teeth and lined
up his kissaki again.
This time, he saw Yamato's bokken twitch and instinctively stepped
backwards to evade the first cut. Yamato brought his bokken round for a
second time and Jack, more by luck than design, blocked his strike. This
infuriated Yamato who piled in with a vicious thrust, which Jack only
managed to avoid by twisting away. Yamato hit Jack hard across the back.
The blow sent Jack to his knees, his kidneys flaring up in pain and his lungs
feeling like they had collapsed.
'Two–nothing,' gloated Yamato as Jack writhed on the ground in agony.
'A bit of advice. Never turn your back on your opponent.'
'Enough, Yamato,' broke in Akiko. 'He doesn't know how to fight with a
bokken yet. He cannot defend himself!'
Winded and stiff with pain, Jack dragged himself to his feet, using the
bokken as a crutch. He refused to give in. This was the actual moment he
had to prove himself. He'd always known he wouldn't win, but he had to
draw the line for when they stopped, not Yamato. With an effort, he raised
his sword.
Yamato looked dumbfounded.
'Don't be stupid. Best out of three. I won.'
'What? Scared I might beat you?'
The direct challenge spurred Yamato into action and he instantly fell into
guard.
Knowing Yamato was watching for telltale signs of his first move, Jack
feigned a strike to the left like he had seen the warrior Godai do with the
nodachi on the beach. Yamato went to block it and Jack switched offensive,
bringing his bokken round hard to the right.
Yamato was thrown off-guard and had to block awkwardly, so much so
that Jack's sword cut across his right hand. Inflamed by the unexpected
contact, Yamato retaliated with a flurry of blows. They rained down on
Jack, who managed to avoid the first two and miraculously block the third,
but the fourth cracked Jack across the face.
It was as if someone had cut the connection between his brain and the
rest of his body. His legs crumpled and he collapsed to the floor. His head
rang in agony and little flashes of light sparked across his eyes.
Akiko was immediately by his side, calling for Chiro to bring water and
towels to stem the blood dripping from his nose. Jiro was pulling on Jack's
sleeve, upset by the unexpected violence. Even Taka-san had appeared and
was bending over Jack with concern.
Jack could see Yamato standing alone, a thunderous look on his face as
everyone disregarded his victory. Jack may have been beaten, but it was he
who had ultimately won.