The next day, Jack arrived early in the garden to make sure he was
practising the kata before Yamato turned up. Yamato made no comment,
but Jack's point had been made. He would not be put off bokken practice,
however disrespectfully Yamato acted.
Yamato fell in beside Jack and began to synchronize his training with
Jack's.
Yamato was by no means a skilled martial artist. He had only been
training properly for a year. But he had clearly inherited some of his father's
ability with a weapon and knew enough to teach Jack the basics of kenjutsu
– the art of the sword.
As autumn gave way to winter, Jack steadily improved. At first the
various kata moves were awkward and stilted, but gradually they began to
flow and the bokken became a natural extension of his arms. Even Yamato
could not deny Jack's progress. Their randori became more evenly matched
and each time Yamato needed greater skill to defeat Jack.
Akiko, however, did not approve of Jack's decision to train with Yamato.
She thought Jack should wait until Masamoto returned. Masamoto could
train him properly in the art of the bokken, and without Jack constantly
getting injured. However, Akiko soon realized Jack would not be dissuaded
and resigned herself to administering herbal ointments for the numerous
cuts and bruises he sustained during randori.
As a compromise, Akiko had insisted that if Jack was to train in the
martial arts of the samurai then he should also acquaint himself with the
finer and more refined aspects of what it meant to be a samurai, in
particular formal Japanese etiquette. She reminded Jack that Masamoto
would expect him, as his adopted son, to be well versed in their ways, and
that Jack should not disappoint him.
Akiko demonstrated the accepted ways of bowing, sitting and rising in
the presence of a samurai and master of the household. She showed him the
correct manner in which to offer and receive gifts, using both hands. She
helped Jack perfect his Japanese language skills, detailing the correct forms
of address when meeting people of differing status and relationship.
Jack thought his head would explode during each and every one of
Akiko's etiquette lessons. There were so many customs and codes of
behaviour that he was almost paralysed for fear of offending someone.
Perhaps this was the reason why he enjoyed randori with Yamato so
much. It allowed him to be free, to control, in some small way, his own
actions and destiny.
'Best out of three?' challenged Jack one day as the first dusting of snow
settled over the garden.
'Why not, gaijin?' said Yamato, taking up his fighting stance.
Akiko, who was teaching Jiro to trace kanji, the Japanese form of
writing, in the snow, gave her usual disapproving look before returning to
Jiro's studies.
Jack checked his posture, adjusted his grip and raised his kissaki. Yamato
immediately struck, parrying Jack's bokken clear and thrusting forward.
Jack swept his body sideways, evading the blade, and brought his own
weapon round on Yamato.
Yamato effortlessly blocked it and countered with a rising cut. Jack
jumped backwards, the kissaki barely missing his chin. He heard Akiko let
out a worried gasp.
Yamato drove forwards and caught Jack on the shoulder with a
downward strike. Jack winced under the blow.
'One to me,' said Yamato, relishing his victory.
They faced off.
Jack did not make the same mistake this time and came in straight for the
kill. He knocked Yamato's bokken aside, thrusting the kissaki into Yamato's
face. Yamato stumbled backwards, desperately seeking to avoid being
stabbed. He slashed wildly with his bokken in retaliation and Jack had to
retreat to avoid getting caught by the flurry of blows.
Jack baited him by lowering his kissaki. Yamato spotted the opening and,
raising his bokken high, sliced downward at Jack's exposed head. Jack
slipped to Yamato's outside and cut across his stomach. Yamato crumpled,
defeated by the unexpected manoeuvre.
Jiro, who had lost interest in Akiko's kanji lesson as soon as the randori
had commenced, let out a loud whoop, shouting 'Jack won! First time! Jack
won!'
'One all, I believe,' said Jack as he helped the winded Yamato back to his
feet.
'Lucky strike, gaijin,' wheezed Yamato, shrugging off Jack's helping
hand.
Incensed at his lapse of judgement, Yamato broke with fighting etiquette
and attacked Jack without waiting to match guards.
He swiftly struck at Jack's bokken and cut downwards at Jack's neck.
Jack just managed to spin out of harm's reach, stepping back to create
distance between himself and Yamato. Yamato cut across at Jack's feet,
forcing Jack to jump the blade. Jack lost his balance but somehow blocked
Yamato's returning strike to his stomach.
'Yamato!' reprimanded Akiko, but he resolutely ignored her.
Yamato slammed his bokken up under Jack's, knocking it skyward out of
Jack's grip. He then kicked Jack hard in the chest, throwing him back
against the cherry blossom tree.
Pressing forward his attack, Yamato swung his weapon directly at Jack's
head. At the last second, more out of instinct than design, Jack ducked and
felt the tree shudder as the bokken collided with the trunk, a shower of snow
dropping from its branches.
This had turned serious, realized Jack, and he charged forward with all
his might, driving his shoulder into Yamato's gut. Yamato flew backwards
and they landed in a heap.
'Enough! Enough!' pleaded Akiko, while Jiro jumped up and down with
excitement at the apparent wrestling match.
Jack rolled off, desperately searching for his own bokken. He saw it at the
foot of the bridge and scrambled for it. Yamato immediately pursued Jack,
screaming at the top of his lungs, his bokken held high primed to strike.
Jack snatched up his weapon and, ignoring Akiko's cries for calm, ran
past her on to the bridge. Hearing Yamato close on his heels, Jack turned on
the spot bringing his own bokken slicing through the air at Yamato's
approaching head. Also aiming for Jack's head, Yamato collided with Jack's
bokken, and the blades juddered to a halt inches from one another's throats.
'Draw!' shouted Jiro in delight.
At that very moment, Taka-san appeared and the two fighters lowered
their bokken.
'Jack-kun!' he called, approaching the three of them. 'Father Lucius
requests your attendance. Urgently.'
Jack knew that it could only mean one thing.
He bowed to Yamato and Akiko then hurried after Taka-san.
Entering Father Lucius's room, Jack was struck by an overpowering stench
of vomit, stale sweat and urine. It reeked of mortality.
A guttering candle feebly lit the gloom. From the far corner, he could
hear the priest's laboured breathing.
'Father Lucius?'
Jack edged closer to the shadowy figure lying supine on the futon. His
foot came into contact with something in the darkness and looking down he
saw a small bucket, brimming with vomit. Jack retched but forced himself
forward, bending over the bed.
The candlelight spluttered then flared and Jack was confronted with the
hollow, shrivelled face of Father Lucius.
The priest's skin was a pallid blue and moist with oily sweat. His hair,
thin and streaked with grey, was plastered in limp strands over his sunken
cheeks. Specks of blood mottled his cracked lips and there were now
permanent black shadows under his eyes.
'Father Lucius?' said Jack, almost hoping the priest was already dead and
no longer suffering such torment.
'Jack?' croaked Father Lucius, his pale tongue running the length of his
cracked lips.
'Yes, Father?'
'I must ask for your forgiveness…'
'For what?'
'I'm sorry, Jack… son of a heretic though you are… you have spirit…'
He spoke in short bursts, taking harsh wheezing breaths in between each
utterance. Jack listened, saddened by the pitiful state of the priest. He was
Jack's last link to the far side of the world and, despite the constant
preaching, he had come to respect the man. The priest too had seemingly
warmed to him, even if he still refused to be converted.
'I misjudged you… I enjoyed our lessons… I wish I could have saved
you…'
'Don't worry about me, Father,' consoled Jack, 'my own God will look
after me. Just as yours will.'
Father Lucius let out a small sobbing moan.
'I'm sorry… I had to tell them… it was my duty…' he cried feebly.
'Tell who what?' asked Jack.
'Please understand… I didn't know they'd kill for it… May God have
mercy…'
'What did you say?' urged Jack.
The priest continued to move his lips, trying to say something else, but
his words weren't audible.
With the faintest of coughs, Father Lucius exhaled his last breath and
died