Sisters of the Sword

by Maya Snow

  He instructed us in detail about how we should position our hands, the need to stay light on our feet, and how important balance and focus were once a fight was in progress. Hana and I held our naginata with deliberate awkwardness, trying to look the part of unskilled peasant boys who knew everything about farm tools and nothing about fancy weapons such as this.

  “Today we will learn three basic moves,” Choji said, demonstrating a deadly looking sequence as he spoke. “First, the forward step with an upward slash. Second, slide this hand down, take a wide-legged stance, swing the shaft backward beneath your arm, and stab forward with the blade. Finally, slide the right foot forward, angle the toes of the left foot out a little, and swing downward at an angle as if you are harvesting a field of wheat. Now—follow me!”

  Stepping in time, we advanced across the courtyard behind Choji. I watched the other servants from the corner of my eye, checking to see how well they handled their weapons. Hana and I copied their mistakes where we could, all the while pretending we were striving for perfection.

  I could hear Ko muttering beneath his breath. “Upward slash, swing the shaft, stab, and then swing downward.”

  “Terrible! Terrible!” roared Choji. “Terrible, all of you. Out of time, out of step, whirling your arms…” He shooed us all back to our starting point. “Where’s your discipline, eh? Where’s your poise? You’re like a barrel of monkeys thrown over a cliff.”

  I saw Hana’s hand flash up to cover her mouth, and had to stifle a giggle myself.

  “Again!” Choji ordered, and then when we had done it again—worse than the first time by his account—we had to do it another six or seven times. A few of the servants grumbled and Choji made a tutting sound. “You’d better get used to it,” he said sternly. “This is the kenshu period of intensive training. We train hard…and then we start all over again. And the second time around we train harder.”

  “My arms are aching,” complained Ko. “I understand about kenshu, but can’t we go on to another move? Why do we have to do the same thing over and over?”

  “You will repeat these three basic moves until you can do them blindfolded,” Choji barked. “Your technique must be more than perfect. In real combat your enemy will exploit your slightest weakness, your tiniest hesitation. Do you think an opponent will wait for you to consider your movements? No, he will not. And when he attacks, you won’t have time to think about sliding your foot here, or your hand there…you must move without thinking, as if in a trance!”

  “I will be in a trance by the time we’ve finished here,” Ko grumbled quietly.

  But I saw him refocus himself, clenching his jaw, and keeping his head down as he hacked and sliced through the moves, over and over. He was a compact little fighter, younger than Hana and me, but probably three times as tough. I tucked my chin down and refocused too, pretending to improve my technique. Choji noticed and gave me a quick nod of acknowledgment.

  By the time the gong rang to signal the end of the afternoon’s lessons, my legs ached and my arms were like jelly. Ko and the other servants were red faced, their foreheads damp with sweat. A few wisps of Hana’s long black hair had escaped from her topknot and I prayed silently that no one else would see how feminine it made her look.

  Choji grinned as he surveyed us. “You’re tired,” he growled. “And judging by the looks on your faces, I imagine that you hate me right now.” He shrugged and grinned. “You’d hate me even more if I didn’t try to get the very best out of you. To be warriors, worthy of your place in Master Goku’s school, you must learn to ignore tiredness, pain, the burn in your limbs. I will train you hard, sometimes beyond your endurance, but when you find yourself in combat, you’ll thank me for it…because every move you make will come as second nature. And you will defeat your enemy.”

  His words were still ringing in my ears later that evening as we followed Ko along walkways, the moon hanging high in the sky.

  “It is customary for the entire school to attend meditation at the end of each day,” Ko told Hana and me. “We didn’t have it yesterday because of the opening ceremony. Follow me; the meditation room is through here.”

  We went down a series of wide, shallow wooden steps where small lanterns lit the way along the paths. At last we came to the meditation room. Large and airy, with serene paintings of waterfalls on one of the walls, the place reminded me of my father’s working chamber at home. There was the same lingering smell of incense and the same sense of deep peace.

  The students kneeled in a large circle around where Master Goku stood, his hands hidden in the sleeves of his black kimono. Beside him, a low lacquered table was laid ready for tea making with bamboo ladles and small drinking bowls, and a cast-iron cauldron hung on a hook over a pyramid of smoldering coals.

  The servants sat in a row along one wall, in the seiza kneeling position, facing the center of the room, and the three of us joined them silently. Nearby a candle flickered inside a lantern and a moth dipped on fluttering wings.

  “Good evening.” Master Goku looked around, seeming to take in every face with his calm gaze. “For those of you who have meditated before, you know what is expected of you this evening. For those of you who have not, please allow me to explain. You will sit in silent contemplation, eyes closed, body relaxed as you focus on your breathing and open your mind. Slowly, very slowly, you will allow the conscious self to slip away, to dissolve, and become free of all thought.”

  Master Goku began to walk quietly around the room, threading a pathway between the students. “You may begin,” he said, his voice low and almost hypnotic, “in your own time….”

  There was a general loosening of shoulders among the students. I saw Ken-ichi rest his hands lightly on his knees. Tatsuya’s eyes drifted closed. Beside me, Hana kneeled, the backs of her hands resting on her thighs and her palms open toward the ceiling.

  I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, suddenly aware of how exhausted I was. Every bone, muscle, and tendon in my body seemed to ache. I squeezed my hands into fists for a moment and then let them relax, palms upward like Hana’s.

  “That’s right, relax…,” Master Goku said. His circuit of the room had brought him close to me. I could hear the silken hem of his long kimono whispering as he passed by. For a moment it was as if everyone else in the room had melted away and he was talking directly to me. “Allow your tired muscles to soften and be still…clear your mind of all emotion, all thought, all memories….”

  As his voice flowed over me, I tried to let my conscious thoughts slip away. A black veil began to cover my mind, until a glittering blade suddenly slashed an arc across it. With nothing physical to distract me, horrible memories came tumbling one after the other: my father, his face twisted in agony…Harumasa bent double, his face ashen with pain…Nobuaki being savagely cut down by Uncle.

  “Keep breathing,” Master Goku’s voice interrupted the torrent of blood in my mind. “Very slowly. Inhale. And then exhale. Try counting as you breathe in…two, three, four. And breathe out…two, three, four. Think only of the breathing; that is all. Nothing else matters. You are safe here. You may relax, free from the cares of the world.”

  I did as Master Goku said and slowly I felt my mind dissolving until there was nothing left except the breathing. Inhale…two, three, four. Exhale…two, three, four. I could no longer feel my aching bones. Memories faded away. Space welled within me and all around me.

  Abruptly that space was no longer empty. Something was coming toward me. Blood began to pound in my ears and suddenly all I could think of was the scarred samurai, attacking us at the shrine.

  No! my mind screamed, and without thinking I leaped to my feet and yelled wildly as I confronted the intruder, hands hard as steel and positioned ready to fight.

  I opened my eyes to see Master Goku standing in front of me—and the astonished faces of all the other students.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Somewhere a boy sniggered and I flushed a deep red, knowing in my hear
t that it was Ken-ichi.

  I covered my embarrassment by bowing deeply to Master Goku. “I am truly sorry,” I said. “I don’t know what came over me….”

  “An apology is not necessary,” the Master said. “I am impressed with your sharp reactions. It can take years to teach a student to move so instinctively, without thought. I am pleased to see that skill was born within you.”

  Relief flooded through me. the Master had managed to turn my humiliation into pride.

  Master Goku looked around at the gaping students. “Please return to your meditation,” he said quietly, and nodded with satisfaction as they all lowered their heads and closed their eyes once more.

  When the meditation session was over, the Master kneeled down carefully at the lacquered table where the tea bowls and ladles had been precisely laid out on a clean white cloth. “As you may know, tea from China is becoming popular among the noble leaders that we, as samurai, must serve. I have spent some time at the temples among the Zen monks and have observed that the process of pouring tea for one’s superiors requires control, humility, and precision—just like the martial arts we study. This evening we are going to practice something called cha no yoriai, the proper way of pouring tea and showing respect,” he said, arranging the folds of his kimono around him. “Every evening of the kenshu I will select one student to make and serve tea. The care and precision shown while performing the ceremony will help reveal who among you is the most dexterous fighter and worthy to be called a samurai.”

  Master Goku gestured for Choji to perform a demonstration.

  Ken-ichi made a point of rolling his eyes while Choji explained each step to the gathered students. Our family had been pouring tea in this way for years, and the cha no yoriai was not new to my cousin.

  “Now,” Goku announced when Choji had finished explaining, “one of you shall try to imitate Choji’s graceful motions.”

  I saw Ken-ichi straighten his back. He looked keenly at Master Goku, radiating eagerness to be chosen, but Master Goku called on Tatsuya.

  As Tatsuya took his place opposite Master Goku, I could see that he was trying to hide his nervousness, and my heart went out to him. Of course he would have made tea before; who had not stirred and served a bowl of cha for their parents? But I doubted whether a boy of his background had ever even seen a cha no yoriai before he came to the dojo, let alone taken part. I wished that there was something I could do to help him, but there was nothing to be done. Poor Tatsuya was on his own.

  His hands shaking, Tatsuya put a little of the special ceremonial green tea powder into one of the bowls, carefully ladled a scoop of liquid from the boiling cauldron and transferred it into the small bowl. Steam rose in a white curl. I could see from Tatsuya’s face that he was struggling to appear calm, to show tranquillity and grace. He whisked the tea in the bowl until it frothed. A whiff of the bitter scent reached my nostrils as he added a ladleful of cold water to make it the right temperature. Then Tatsuya bowed and offered the tea bowl to Master Goku.

  Master Goku took the bowl with both hands. He sipped three times, rested, and then sipped three times more. When the bowl was empty he offered it back to Tatsuya, who placed it carefully back on the table. They both bowed, and the ceremony was over.

  “You did well, Tatsuya,” Master Goku said, after a long pause for consideration. “You understood the steps to pour the tea and you tried to observe the necessary tranquillity, but your inner emotions were plain for me to see. In a true cha no yoriai, everything must be perfect for the needs of your guest.” He folded his hands into his wide sleeves and narrowed his eyes. “In combat, Tatsuya, would you allow an opponent to see your inner thoughts?”

  “No, Sensei,” Tatsuya said, shaking his head.

  “Of course not,” Goku replied. “In all aspects of life, the self must be protected. You can never give an opponent an advantage he hasn’t fought for. Do you understand?”

  Tatsuya bowed low, clearly disappointed with himself.

  I thought Tatsuya had done well, but later, after we had cleaned the hall and helped Ko with the dishes, Hana and I saw a sad-looking figure sitting on the steps that led down to the rock garden. His head was bowed, but there was enough moonlight for us to recognize Tatsuya immediately.

  “Are you all right?” Hana asked, and reached out to place a gentle hand on his drooping shoulders.

  Instantly Tatsuya straightened his back and tried to look as if he hadn’t a care in the world. “Of course,” he said brightly, turning to smile up at us. “I’m just admiring the garden before I go to bed.” There was a pause, and then his shoulders drooped again. “Actually, no. If you want to know…I wish I’d never come here!”

  I sat down beside him. Hana sat a few steps below and looked up at Tatsuya, her face full of concern. “You had the privilege of being chosen first,” I reminded him.

  “And I ruined it,” he said in a flat voice. “I was clumsy. I showed my emotions and I spoiled the beauty of the occasion.”

  “It wasn’t that bad,” Hana said.

  “Everyone in this school has something he needs to improve on.” I glanced at Hana. “Silent Fist needs to practice more with the naginata. I need to work on my writing. And Ken-ichi needs to improve his manners.”

  Tatsuya smiled at that. “It just seems that I have so much more to improve on than anyone else here,” he said reluctantly. “Sometimes I think I’ll never be a samurai.”

  “You’ll learn, and you will be a samurai,” I told him firmly. “Master Goku wouldn’t have selected you for training if he didn’t see that in your future.”

  “Sensei only chose me because of my skills as an archer,” Tatsuya said. “He saw me showing off with a bow and arrow one day, hitting targets for money in the marketplace. After his invitation, I begged my mother to let me come here to train. Goku thought I showed potential…and maybe I do. Perhaps I could be a samurai, if it was just fighting.” Tatsuya sighed hopelessly. “But it’s not just fighting, is it? There are so many other things that I have to catch up with—learning about tea, reading, and writing. All the other students are from high-ranking families, and it seems as though they were born knowing these things.”

  “No one is born knowing about those things,” I said. “We all have to learn.”

  “And I want to learn,” Tatsuya admitted. “But there’s no one to teach me.”

  “I can teach you,” Hana said gently.

  Beckoning to Tatsuya, she stood up and made her way down the steps into the rock garden, where a few stone lanterns glowed softly. There, Hana gathered several small rocks and a smooth twig, and placed them neatly on a large flat stone that looked like a low table. She kneeled beside the flat rock and motioned for Tatsuya to take his place opposite.

  Silently she showed Tatsuya how to serve tea. She held her sleeve back with one hand and elegantly lifted the twig with the other. She dipped the makeshift ladle close to one of the larger rocks as if it were the cauldron full of boiling water. Her hand was steady, her movements graceful, as she pretended to transfer the liquid into the small stone that represented the tea bowl. I felt a lump in my throat as I remembered past occasions when she had performed cha no yoriai for our mother and father at home.

  Tatsuya watched carefully, his eyes marveling at Hana’s elegant movements. Then Hana indicated that it was his turn. He carefully held back his sleeve and lifted the twig. Hana reached out to place her hands over his, lightly guiding his movements.

  “Like this,” she said gently.

  A few fireflies flickered past, bright against the night sky, and I watched as Tatsuya poured tea with the twigs and stones again and again. Hana seemed to be able to connect with Tatsuya so easily, directing him with little nods and the tiniest touches of her fingers and hands. The sadness had gone entirely from his face, replaced by a determination to get things right.

  At last they bowed respectfully to each other. Hana replaced the rocks in the garden, and the teaching session was over.

&nb
sp; “Thank you,” Tatsuya said with a smile. “I feel as if I have improved a little.” He hesitated, and then asked, “How is it that you know so much about the cha no yoriai?”

  “Well…I…” Hana floundered, so I broke in.

  “It’s very important for servants to be able to serve tea properly to important guests,” I said.

  “And you will become even more skillful if you practice,” Hana added, recovering from her confusion.

  “Would you help me?” Tatsuya asked.

  “Of course,” she said. “We can practice together as often as you like.”

  Tatsuya smiled. “And then next time Master Goku asks me to serve cha, I will be ready.”

  “And when you have leave to go home, you can impress your parents with your knowledge of etiquette,” I said.

  A shadow of pain flickered across Tatsuya’s face. “My mother, maybe,” he said. “I don’t know about my father. I haven’t seen him since I was six years old.”

  “Oh,” I said, and the look of pain on Tatsuya’s face brought back a rush of memories of my own father. I swallowed hard. “My brother and I…we lost our father recently,” I said in a low, hesitant voice.

  Tatsuya looked at us both. “I’m sorry,” he said gently.

  Hana clasped her hands tightly in her lap and looked away across the shadowy garden. I could see that her eyes were bright with tears, but she had a determined look on her face as if she would not let them fall.

  “Tell us about your father,” I said to Tatsuya.

  Tatsuya bit his lip for a moment, as if wondering where to start. Then he took a deep breath. “It’s a long story,” he said at last. “Let’s walk while I tell you.”

  I nodded, and we all stood up and strolled along a sandy pathway that led through the rock garden. I could hear the light trickle of water somewhere, almost musical in the darkness.