'Jack-kun! Kyoto!' said Kuma-san the following afternoon, nudging Jack
from the doze that the gentle rocking of the horse had lulled him into. 'The
Heart of Japan, where the great Emperor himself resides!'
Jack opened his eyes. The Tokaido Road had ended in a magnificent
wooden bridge that spanned a wide, lazily flowing river. The bridge
streamed with people coming and going, an exotic flood of colour and
noise. But as soon as they saw Masamoto and his samurai approaching, the
crowd parted like a wave breaking upon a rock and a uniform bow rippled
along as the troop passed through.
Beyond the bridge, Jack could see the broad expanse of Kyoto.
A vast city of villas, temples, houses, gardens, shops and inns filled the
valley floor. Bound by mountains on three sides, the rising slopes were
swathed in cedar trees and dotted with shrines. Soaring up to the north-east
of the city was the most magnificent of these peaks, upon which the
desecrated remains of a massive temple complex perched.
'Mount Hiei,' said Akiko, as she and Yamato joined him on the bridge.
'It was the site of Enryakuji, the most powerful Buddhist monastery in
Japan.'
'What happened to it?' asked Jack, surprised at the hundreds of burnt-out
buildings, temples and structures littering its slopes.
'The Great General Nobunaga invaded the monastery forty years ago,'
said Kuma-san. 'Burnt every temple to the ground. Executed every monk.'
'But why?'
'When Kyoto was first built,' replied Akiko, 'Emperor Kammu
established a monastery on Mount Hiei to protect the city from evil spirits.
It was the monks' responsibility to guard Kyoto.'
'They even had their own army of sohei,' added Yamato.
'Sohei?'
'Fierce warrior-monks trained in martial arts,' explained Kuma-san.
'Nobunaga challenged their control of Kyoto. His forces stormed up the
mountain and conquered the sohei.'
'But if they were the guardians of Kyoto, why did Nobunaga destroy
them?' asked Jack.
'Nobunaga was not the destroyer of this monastery,' said Kuma-san
vehemently. 'The monks had become too rich, too powerful, too greedy.
The destroyer of the monastery was the monastery itself!'
'So who protects Kyoto from evil spirits now?'
'There are many other monasteries, Jack,' explained Akiko. 'Kyoto is a
city of temples. See there on that steep slope, peeking just above the trees,
that is Kiyomizudera Temple, the Temple of Clear Water. It protects the
source of the Kizu river, the Otowa-no-taki.'
'What's Otowa-no-taki?'
'The "Sound of Feathers" waterfall. It is said that to drink from its waters
will help cure any illness.'
Jack gazed at the towering pagoda temple until it disappeared from view.
Wending their way through the narrow streets and byways of Kyoto,
Akiko pointed out the various shrines and temples. Every street appeared to
have its own shrine. Finally, the road opened out on to a large paved
thoroughfare dominated by a magnificent wooden gateway, with a large
curving roof and decorated in gold leaf. Pale earthen walls, topped with
jade-green tiles, stretched out either side for over half a mile, completely
encircling the buildings hidden within.
'Kyoto Gosho,' breathed Akiko with utter reverence.
'The Imperial Palace,' explained Yamato, seeing Jack's bafflement. 'We
are passing by the home of the Emperor of Japan, the Living God.'
Masamoto bowed briefly in its direction, then bore left along the palace's
walls. They followed him down the wide boulevard and back into the
narrowing streets of the city. It was not long before they emerged in front of
another fortified enclosure.
Thick white walls upon great stone foundations surrounded a three-tiered
castle with a large curving roof. The fortifications sloped into a wide moat
and at each corner large defensive turrets guarded the main gate and
thoroughfares. The castle exuded an air of impregnability.
'We are here,' stated Kuma-san.
'We are staying in the castle?' said Jack in astonishment.
'No! That is Nijo Castle. Home to daimyo Takatomi,' said Kuma-san,
and then with immense pride in his voice: 'We are going to the Butokuden.'
They dismounted and Jack, unloading his saddlebag, turned to Akiko.
'What is the Butokuden?' he whispered, not wishing to offend Kuma-san.
'It is the "Hall of the Virtues of War". The Butokuden is Masamoto's
dojo, training hall,' Akiko explained quietly and nodded in its direction. 'It
is the home of the Niten Ichi Ryū, the greatest sword school in Kyoto and
the only one sponsored by the daimyo Takatomi himself. It is the place
where we will be trained in Bushido, the Way of the Warrior.'
On the opposite side of the street was a large rectangular building
constructed out of dark cypress wood and white earthen walls, crowned
with two tiers of pale-russet tiles. Jutting out from its centre was an
intricately carved entranceway bearing a large phoenix kamon. Masamoto
stood beneath its flaming wings, waiting for Akiko, Yamato and Jack to join
him.
'Welcome to my school, the Niten Ichi Ryū,' said Masamoto
magnanimously.
Akiko, Yamato and Jack all bowed, and Masamoto led the way into his
'One School Of Two Heavens'.
Even before Jack had set foot inside the Butokuden, he could hear the
shouts of 'Kiai' emanating from the dojo.
There was a sharp cry of 'Rei' as Masamoto entered the great hall and the
entire group of trainee warriors instantaneously ceased their practice. The
room became so quiet that all Jack could hear was the sound of their
breathing. As one, the entire class bowed and held their bow as a mark of
utmost respect.
'Continue your training,' commanded Masamoto.
'ARIGATŌ GOZAIMASHITA, MASAMOTO-SAMA!' they thundered,
their salutation rolling and rebounding around the dojo.
The forty or so students returned to their various activities of kihon, kata
and randori. The late afternoon sun filtering through the narrow papered
windows gave an almost mystical quality to their movements. As the
warriors sparred, their shadows fought in unison across the honey-coloured
wood-block floor that defined their training area.
Jack was overawed. From its rounded pillars of cypress wood to the
elevated panelled ceiling, and the ceremonial throne set back in a curving
alcove, the Butokuden radiated an aura of supreme power. Even the students
kneeling in orderly lines round the edge of the dojo exhibited complete
focus and determination. This was truly a hall of warriors in the making.
Slowly, like the sound of a receding storm, the dojo fell silent again. Jack
wondered who had entered this time, but with increasing alarm he realized
that every student had stopped their training and was now staring at him.
They met his gaze with a mixture of amazement, disbelief and open
contempt at the blond-haired gaijin who had intruded upon their dojo.
Masamoto, his back turned, was conversing with a stern-looking samurai
with a sharp spike of a beard.
Jack could feel the hard stares of the students impaling him like arrows.
'Why have you stopped?' demanded Masamoto as if unaware of Jack's
presence. 'Continue your training.'
The students resumed their activities, though they continued to steal
furtive glances in Jack's direction.
Masamoto addressed Jack, Akiko and Yamato. 'Come. Sensei Hosokawa
will show you to your quarters. I have business to attend to, so I won't see
you again until the reception dinner tonight in the Chō-no-ma. '
They bowed to Masamoto and left the dojo through a door in the rear of
the Butokuden. Sensei Hosokawa led them across an open courtyard to the
Shishi-no-ma, the Hall of Lions, a long building housing a series of small
rooms. They entered through a side shoji and, leaving their sandals at the
door, walked down a narrow corridor.
'These are your sleeping quarters,' said Sensei Hosokawa, indicating a
number of small unadorned rooms barely big enough for three tatami mats.
'The bathhouses are at the rear. I will collect you for dinner once you have
washed and changed.'
Jack stepped inside his room and closed the inner shoji behind him.
He put down his shoulder bag and placed the bonsai tree on a narrow
shelf beneath a tiny lattice window. Looking around, he searched for a safe
place to hide his father's rutter, but with no furnishings to speak of, his only
option was to slip it beneath the futon spread out on the floor. Patting back
the mattress, he then collapsed on top of it.
As he lay there, exhausted from three days of hard travel, a sense of
dread shuddered through his body and he couldn't stop his hands from
shaking. What was he doing here?
He was no samurai.
He was Jack Fletcher, an English boy who had dreamed of being a pilot
like his father, exploring the wonders of the New World. Not a trainee
samurai warrior stranded in an alien world, the prey of a one-eyed ninja.
Jack felt like a lamb going to the slaughter. Every single one of those
students had looked like they wanted to tear him limb from limb.