'YOUNG SAMURAI!' boomed Masamoto down the Chō-no-ma, the Hall
of Butterflies, a long chamber resplendent with panels of exquisitely
painted butterflies and sakura trees.
Masamoto sat cross-legged at the head table, a black lacquered slab of
cedar which dominated the end of the room. Raised upon a dais, he was
flanked on either side by four samurai in ceremonial kimonos.
'Bushido is not a journey to be taken lightly!'
Jack, Yamato and Akiko listened along with a hundred other trainee
warriors, all of whom had requested to study under Masamoto Takeshi.
'To train to be a samurai warrior, one must conquer the self, endure the
pain of gruelling practice, and cultivate a level mind in the face of danger,'
declared Masamoto. 'The way of the warrior is lifelong. Yet mastery is
often simply staying the path.1
You will need commitment, discipline and a
fearless mind.'
He took a measured sip from a cup of sencha, letting his words settle in
the minds of the students who knelt in neat, disciplined rows along the
length of the chamber.
'You will also need guidance. For without it, you will perish! You are all
blinded by ignorance! Deafened by inexperience! Voiceless with
incompetence!'
Masamoto paused again and took in the whole room, ensuring his speech
had had the intended effect. Jack could feel the gravity of his stare upon
him, even though he was at the very back of the chamber.
'From every tiny bud springs a tree of many branches,' he continued, his
austere tone thawing slightly. 'Every castle commences with the laying of
the first stone. Every journey begins with just one step.2
To assist you in
making that first step and the many others you will take, I present your
sensei. REI!'
All the students bowed, their heads touching the tatami mat as a mark of
their complete respect for their teachers.
'First, Sensei Hosokawa, master of kenjutsu and the bokken.'
Masamoto acknowledged the samurai to his immediate right, the one
who had directed Jack to his room earlier that day. A fierce-looking warrior
with jet-black hair swept up into the customary topknot, Hosokawa
possessed dark piercing eyes and tugged thoughtfully at his sharp stub of a
beard.
'Together with myself, he will train you in the Art of the Sword and,
should you demonstrate excellence, we will impart to you the technique of
"Two Heavens".'
Sensei Hosokawa stared at them, as if assessing each student in turn for
their right to be there. He then bowed his head, apparently satisfied. Jack
wondered what the 'Two Heavens' technique was and looked across to
Akiko to ask, but she like everyone else was staring resolutely in the
direction of the sensei.
'To Sensei Hosokawa's right is Sensei Yamada, your sage in Zen and
meditation.'
A bald-headed man with a long, wispy grey beard and a crinkled old face
dozed at the far end of the table. He was thin and reedy, as if grown from a
bamboo shoot, and Jack guessed he had to be at least seventy years old, for
even his eyebrows had gone grey.
'Sensei Yamada?' asked Masamoto gently.
'Hai! Dōzo, Masamoto-sama. It's good to have an end to journey
toward,' said the old man with considered care, 'but it's the journey that
matters, in the end.'3
'Wise words, Sensei,' responded Masamoto.
Sensei Yamada then nodded forward and appeared to drift back to sleep.
Jack wished he could fall to sleep so easily in such a position. His knees
were already stiffening up and his feet ached.
'You must stop fidgeting,' whispered Akiko, seeing Jack shift his weight
around. 'It is disrespectful.'
No sympathy from her, thought Jack, perhaps the Japanese were born
kneeling!
Masamoto turned to a young woman on his left. 'Now I present Sensei
Yosa, mistress of kyujutsu and horsemanship.'
The sensei wore a shimmering blood-red and ivory kimono adorned with
a kamon of a moon and two stars. Her black hair glistened in the light of the
numerous lanterns hanging from the walls of the Chō-no-ma, giving it the
appearance of a cascading waterfall. Jack quickly forgot his kneeling
misery as, like the rest of the students, he was immediately captivated by
this female warrior.
'She is undoubtedly one of the most prodigious talents in the Art of the
Bow,' explained Masamoto. 'I would go so far as to say she is the finest
archer in all the land. I truly envy those who benefit from her tutelage.'
As she bowed, her chestnut-coloured eyes never left her students. They
darted to each as if calculating distance and trajectory. She reminded Jack
of a hunting hawk, elegant and graceful, yet sharp and deadly. Then, as she
sat back up, she drew her hair behind her ears and revealed an ugly ruby-red
scar that cut the entire length of her right cheekbone.
'Finally, but by no means least, may I introduce Sensei Kyuzo, master of
taijutsu.'
A small man perched at the end of the table to Sensei Yosa's left. He had
black specks for eyes and a tuft of a moustache beneath a flattened pudgy
nose.
'He is your authority on all matters of hand-to-hand combat: kicking,
punching, grappling, striking, blocking and throwing. The skills you will
learn from Sensei Kyuzo will feed into everything you do here.'
Jack was amazed. The sensei could not have been much bigger than a
child and seemed an extremely odd choice for a tutor of hand-to-hand
combat. Jack noticed that many of the other new students wore similar
looks of disbelief.
The small man gave an irritable bow. Then Jack noticed he was crushing
nuts with his bare hands. Methodically and without haste, Sensei Kyuzo
would pick up a large unhulled nut from a red lacquered bowl and squeeze
it between his fingers until it split. He would then pick at the pieces before
moving on to the next nut.
With the introductions over, Masamoto indicated for all the students to
bow once more in honour of their new sensei.
'But the Way of the Warrior means not only martial arts and meditation,'
continued Masamoto. 'It means living by the samurai code of honour –
bushido – at all times. I demand courage and rectitude in all your
endeavours. I expect honesty, benevolence and loyalty to be demonstrated
daily. You must honour and respect one another. Every student of the Niten
Ichi Ryū is personally chosen by me and thus every student is worthy of
your respect.'
Jack felt the last comment had been said directly for his benefit and a
number of the students turned their heads in his direction. One of them, an
imperious-looking lad with a shaved head, high cheekbones and dark
hooded eyes, shot him a look of pure malevolence. He wore a jet-black
kimono with a red sun kamon emblazoned on the back.
'Tomorrow you will begin your formal training. Those of you who have
been students a season or more, you too will need to refresh the skills
acquired to date. Do not think for one moment that you know it all. You
have only taken your first step!' proclaimed Masamoto, slamming his fist
down on to the table to emphasize the point.
'Given enough time, anyone may master the physical. Given enough
knowledge, anyone may become wise. It is only the most dedicated warrior
who can master both and achieve true bushido.
4
The Niten Ichi Ryū is your
path to excellence. Learn today so that you may live tomorrow!'
Masamoto bowed his respect to his students and everyone let loose a
resounding chorus.
'MASAMOTO! MASAMOTO! MASAMOTO!'
As the salutation died away, the large entrance shoji slid back and
servants entered bearing several long lacquered tables. All the students rose
to allow the tables to be placed in two rows down the length of the Chō-noma.
An unspoken but rigid system of hierarchy dictated the seating
arrangement. The most advanced and elder students assembled nearest the
head table, while the newest recruits sat closest to the entrance. Jack,
Yamato and Akiko, who wore a jade-green ceremonial kimono with her
father's family kamon of a sakura flower, went to seat themselves with
seventeen other new recruits at the very end.
Jack had dressed in the burgundy kimono Hiroko had presented him
before leaving Toba. Somehow wearing Masamoto's family kamon had
given him the strength to subdue his fears. The phoenix kamon had acted
like an invisible armour and discouraged the other students from
approaching or physically challenging his presence. They had merely
observed him with guarded suspicion.
As Jack went to seat himself, though, the student with the red sun kamon
strode over.
'That's my seat, gaijin,' he challenged.
All the students turned to see what the blond-haired gaijin's reaction
would be.
Jack squared up to the boy.
They held one another's stares, the seconds seeming to stretch into
infinity. Then he felt Akiko's hand lightly touch his elbow and gently pull
him away.
'It's all yours,' said Jack to the boy. 'I didn't like the smell over here
anyway.'
The boy's nostrils flared at the implied insult on his cleanliness and he
shot a scathing look at two trainees who had smirked at Jack's retort.
'You shouldn't offend people like that, Jack,' whispered Akiko, hurriedly
leading him over to the table where Yamato had seated himself. 'You do not
want to be making enemies – certainly not within the Niten Ichi Ryū.'