by Unknown
‘Why haven’t you crossed yet?’ asked Sensei Kano.
‘S-s-sorry… Sensei,’ stammered Yamato, ‘I… can’t do it.’
Jack knew his friend was scared of heights. He had discovered Yamato’s phobia when they had climbed the Sound of Feathers waterfall at the culmination of the Taryu-Jiai contest. The same vertigo was defeating him again.
‘Nonsense. If it’s the height that scaring you, simply don’t look,’ instructed Sensei Kano.
‘What? Close my eyes!’ exclaimed Yamato, backing away from the chasm.
‘Yes. Become blind to your fear.’
Everyone stared at the sensei, aghast. The thought of crossing the log was unnerving enough, but to cross it with one’s eyes closed. That was sheer lunacy!
‘It’s perfectly safe. I’ll even go first,’ said Sensei Kano, slipping off his sandals and threading them on his staff. ‘It would be helpful, though, if someone could show me where the log is.’
The students exchanged bewildered looks. The log was in plain sight. After a brief pause, several of the students pointed to the makeshift crossing.
‘No use pointing,’ said Sensei Kano. ‘I’m blind.’
Jack, along with the rest of the class, was stunned. Sensei Kano had led them all the way to the gorge without a guide or even a single request for directions. How could he be blind?
Jack studied his new sensei properly for the first time. Sensei Kano’s sheer size dominated his appearance, being a head taller than most Japanese. Upon closer inspection, though, Jack realized that Sensei Kano’s eyes were not grey by nature, but clouded as if a sea mist had seeped into them.
‘Excuse me, Sensei,’ said Akiko, recovering first. ‘The log’s almost in front of you, no more than eight shaku ahead and twelve shaku to your left.’
‘Thank you,’ replied Sensei Kano, striding confidently up to the lip of the ravine.
His bō found the edge and he followed it to his left until it struck the fallen tree. Without a moment’s hesitation, he stepped on to the narrow log. Holding his staff out in front of him for balance, he crossed in several easy strides.
‘You have just witnessed your first lesson,’ announced Sensei Kano from the opposite side. ‘If one sees with the eyes of the heart, rather than the eyes of the head, there is nothing to fear.’
As if in response to his words of wisdom, a shaft of sunlight broke through the forest canopy, suspending a tiny rainbow within the veil of mist that swirled above the void.
‘Now it’s your turn.’
16
MUGAN RYŪ
The roar of the river filled Jack’s ears as he stepped out over the abyss and a sliver of fear took hold.
He couldn’t see the gorge he knew gaped beneath him like the open mouth of a shark. Yet with each step into the unknown, his confidence grew. Having been a rigging monkey on-board the Alexandria, the soles of his feet gripped the slippery surface of the log as if he were back upon the yardarm.
He was also aware that without his sight he would have to rely upon his other senses, and tried to judge his progress across the log by the changing echoes of the river below.
Eventually, his feet found the grassy bank on the opposite side and he opened his eyes, amazed he had crossed without looking once.
Akiko now approached the log. She closed her eyes and nimbly negotiated the gorge in several quick steps, her balance as perfect as a dancer’s, making everyone else’s attempts so far appear awkward and ungainly.
They waited for Yamato. But he put off his crossing by politely inviting Emi to go first. She was across in no time, so he stepped aside for others in the class. Saburo shuffled along in fits and bursts, then Yori scampered over, followed by Kiku. Nobu ended up groping his way along astride the trunk, while Kazuki strolled across not even bothering to close his eyes.
Eventually there were no more left for Yamato to invite.
‘Don’t worry,’ called Jack. ‘Just keep your eyes closed, walk straight and you’ll be fine.’
‘I know!’ said Yamato irritably, but he remained at the end of the log all the same, his staff trembling in his hands.
‘Use the eyes of your heart and believe in yourself, then you have nothing to fear,’ advised Sensei Kano, who waited for him at the opposite end.
Yamato screwed his eyes tight shut, took a deep breath and stepped out on to the log. In painstakingly tiny steps, he edged himself along. Halfway across, he wobbled wildly. The class drew in breath expecting him to fall. But Yamato regained his balance and resumed his snail-like progress.
‘You’re nearly there,’ encouraged Saburo when Yamato was little more than four steps from the end.
Unfortunately that was the wrong thing to say. Yamato opened his eyes, looked down and saw the dizzying drop beneath him. Panic seized his senses. Rushing the last few steps, his feet slipped from under him.
Yamato screamed and plunged head first into the chasm.
But, just as Yamato lost his footing, Sensei Kano shot out his bō staff, catching him across the chest and flinging him up and over to safety. Yamato landed in a quivering heap upon the grass.
‘You opened your eyes and let fear in, didn’t you?’ said Sensei Kano. ‘You’ll learn soon enough not to be so swayed by what you see.’
Without waiting for a response, the sensei turned and led the students deeper into the forest.
Jack, Akiko and Saburo ran to help Yamato back to his feet, but he shrugged them off moodily, furious with himself for having lost face in front of the class.
‘How on earth did Sensei Kano do that?’ exclaimed Jack to the others, astounded at the bō master’s lightning reactions. ‘He’s blind!’
‘All will become clear when we reach the monastery, Jack-kun,’ shouted Sensei Kano from afar.
They stared at one another in amazement. Sensei Kano was already out of sight, yet he had still heard them.
‘This temple is where Sensei Sorimachi, the founder of the Mugan Ryū, the School of No Eyes, began his training,’ explained Sensei Kano. ‘The school is based upon the insight that “To see with eyes alone is not to see at all”.’
The class listened obediently, standing in two rows, their staffs held tightly by their sides. Sensei Kano had brought them to a large open courtyard that faced the ruined remains of the Kompon Chu-do, the largest temple of the once great and powerful Enryakuji monastery.
The temple’s long curved roof had collapsed in several places, and red and green tiles lay scattered on the floor like discarded dragon scales. The broken bones of wooden pillars rested at odd angles and battered gap-toothed walls revealed ransacked shrines and cracked stone idols. To all intents and purposes, the monastery was dead.
Yet deep inside, a single light glimmered. This, Sensei Kano explained, was the ‘Eternal Light’. A lantern lit by the temple’s founding priest, Saicho, over eight hundred years ago, it was still burning, tended by a solitary monk. ‘Belief never burns out,’ observed Sensei Kano before starting the lesson.
‘As a samurai warrior, you must not become blinded by what you see. You must use all your senses to conquer your enemy – sight, hearing, touch, taste and smell. You must be at one with your body at all times, maintaining perfect balance and complete awareness of where each limb is in relation to the others.’
The sensei turned to face Jack, his misty grey eyes staring directly at him. The effect was unsettling, as if the sensei was somehow looking into Jack’s very soul.
‘You asked me, Jack-kun, how I managed to save your friend without being able to see. Simple. I sensed his panic. My staff was moving before he fell. I heard his foot slip on the log and then his scream, so I knew exactly where he was. The hard part was ensuring he didn’t land on any of you!’
A ripple of laughter spread among the students.
‘But how can such skills be used to fight an enemy you can’t see?’ asked Kazuki with scepticism.
‘I will demonstrate,’ replied Sensei Kano, turning his clouded gaze
towards Kazuki. ‘Your name?’
‘Oda Kazuki, Sensei.’
‘Well, Kazuki-kun, try to steal my inro without me knowing and it’s yours to keep.’
Kazuki grinned at the challenge. The little carrying box hung freely from the obi of the sensei’s kimono, easy pickings for even the most inept thief.
Kazuki crept out of line and advanced silently towards the sensei. As he passed Nobu, he indicated to him and another lad, a thin, wiry stick insect of a boy called Hiroto, to follow him. Kazuki then resumed his approach, with Nobu moving off to his right and Hiroto to the left. Each converged on Sensei Kano from a different direction.
They were four paces away when Sensei Kano whipped his bō staff round, catching Hiroto by the ankle and sweeping him off his feet. Spinning round, the sensei thrust his staff in between Nobu’s legs, knocking them apart. A single jab to the stomach sent the startled Nobu toppling to the floor. Finally, without pausing, he attacked Kazuki, driving his bō directly at the boy’s throat.
Kazuki froze, an audible swallow of panic coming from him as the end of the staff stopped a hair’s breadth from his Adam’s apple.
‘Very clever, Kazuki-kun, employing decoys, but your friend over there smells of three-day-old sushi,’ he explained, nodding towards the fallen figure of Hiroto. ‘You breathe as loud as a baby dragon, and that boy treads like an elephant!’ he said, indicating Nobu, who lay on the floor rubbing his bruised belly.
The class broke into uncontrollable sniggering.
‘Enough!’ interrupted Sensei Kano, bringing an abrupt end to the laughter. ‘It’s time to start your training or you’ll never learn how to fight blind. Space yourselves out so that you have enough room to swing your bō.’
The class obediently spread out across the stone courtyard.
‘First you need be at one with the weight and feel of the bō. I want you all to spin your staffs as I do.’
Sensei Kano held out his staff in his right hand, gripping it halfway along the shaft. He began to spin the bō, swapping hands in the process. He started slowly, then built up speed until the staff was a blur either side of his body.
‘Once you’re confident enough spinning the bō between your hands, close your eyes. Learn to sense its movement, rather than relying on your sight to follow it.’
The class began to twirl their staffs. Several students immediately fumbled their weapons and dropped them.
‘Start off slowly. Get the hand movements right first,’ advised Sensei Kano.
To begin with, Jack found it difficult to swap the staff over. Shattered from lack of sleep, his reactions were sluggish and his movements clumsy.
Yamato, on the other hand, took to the weapon like he had been born with it in his hands. His friend already had his eyes closed.
‘Good work, Yamato-kun,’ Sensei Kano commended as he listened to Yamato’s bō whistle through the air. Yamato smiled, his loss of face at crossing the gorge regained as he became the first student to master the technique.
Yet it was not long before Jack had his own staff spinning, albeit at a more sedate pace. With continued practice, his confidence grew until he braved closing his eyes. He tried to feel the weapon, hear it, sense it, rather than having to see it.
He increased his speed.
The bō was flying, each spin sending a blast of air past his ears.
He had mastered it!
‘Owwww!’ Jack cried out as pain leapt up his leg.
The bō had struck his shin and shot out of his hands, clattering across the stone courtyard. Jack hobbled after the fallen weapon.
The bō rolled to a stop… at Kazuki’s feet.
Jack stooped to retrieve it, but before he could get to it, he was struck across the back of the head. Jack glared up at Kazuki.
‘Careful, gaijin,’ said Kazuki, giving him a look of mock innocence.
The hatred between them flared and Jack tensed himself in readiness for a fight.
‘Don’t even think about it,’ whispered Kazuki, checking to see Sensei Kano was nowhere nearby. ‘You wouldn’t even get close.’
Kazuki stopped his bō directly in line with Jack’s nose, forcing Jack’s head back. Jack stepped away, then feigned to his left before ducking and snatching up his staff with the other hand. But Kazuki was ready for it and brought the tip of his own staff down on to Jack’s fingers, knocking the bō back to the floor with a clatter.
‘The student who keeps dropping their bō would be best advised to keep their eyes open until they’re more competent,’ said Sensei Kano from the other side of the courtyard.
Jack and Kazuki silently opposed one another, each waiting for the other to make the next move.
‘Eyes open or closed, you’re a worthless excuse for a samurai,’ goaded Kazuki under his breath. ‘Even you must realize that no one at the school likes you. Your so-called friends are only polite to you, because Masamoto-sama commands it.’
Jack was riled by the accusation and fought to control his anger.
‘And the student who keeps talking would be advised to channel his energies into more positive practice,’ added Sensei Kano pointedly.
But the damage had been done. Kazuki had hit a raw nerve. Jack couldn’t deny that there was a grain of truth in his taunt. When he had first arrived in Japan, Yamato had only tolerated his presence due to a direct order from his father. It had taken their victory in the Taryu-Jiai to bring them together as friends. Then there was Akiko. Despite being his closest friend, she hid her feelings so well that Jack wouldn’t be able to tell if she was faking their friendship or not.
Maybe Kazuki was right.
Despite her denial of last night’s mysterious appearance, Jack had the feeling she was hiding something from him.
Seeing the internal battle played out on Jack’s face, Kazuki grinned.
‘Go home, gaijin,’ he mouthed silently.
17
PLANTING SEEDS
‘Go home, gaijin! Go home, gaijin! Go home, gaijin!’
Jack sat immobilized by fear in his father’s high-backed armchair as he watched Dragon Eye slash with his sword, scoring the phrase over and over again on to every wall of his parents’ cottage. Like open wounds, the red letters seeped in crimson streaks, and Jack realized Dragon Eye was using his father’s blood as ink.
Hearing a scuttling sound approach, Jack clasped the rutter closer to his chest. Glancing down, he was confronted by four black scorpions, each the size of a fist, crawling their way over the floorboards and up his bare legs, their poisoned barbs crackling in the darkness…
‘Are you coming?’
Jack was jolted awake by Akiko’s voice.
He sat up and rubbed his eyes against the bright morning light that poured in through the tiny window of his room.
‘I’m not… quite ready… you go ahead,’ replied Jack, his voice shaky as he pulled back the covers of his futon.
‘Are you all right?’ she asked from the other side of his shoji door.
‘I’m fine… just sleepy.’
But Jack was far from fine. Akiko had woken him from another nightmare.
‘I’ll meet you in the Chō-no-ma for breakfast,’ he added hurriedly.
‘Try not to be late this time,’ Akiko cautioned, and Jack heard her soft footsteps pad along the passageway.
He got up, groggy from his dream of Dragon Eye and the four scorpions. He wondered whether it could be a premonition like the butterfly and demon vision. But that vision had been induced by meditation. This was a nightmare, something darker, more primitive. If it happened again, he promised himself he would consult Sensei Yamada.
Jack packed away his futon, tucking the rutter carefully inside the folds of the mattress. It was too obvious a hiding place. He urgently needed to speak with Emi to arrange a return visit to the castle. The problem was that he could never get her alone. Her two friends, Cho and Kai, followed her around like handmaidens. Besides, Jack hadn’t yet thought of how to broach the subject with her wi
thout revealing his true purpose.
Hurriedly he put on his training gi, wrapping the upper section round his body, ensuring the lapel went left over right. He didn’t want to dress like a corpse by having them the other way. He then tied the jacket off with a white obi round his waist.
Before leaving for breakfast and his first lesson of the day, Jack tended to his bonsai perched on the narrow window sill. He treasured the tiny cherry-blossom tree, a parting gift from Uekiya, the gardener in Toba. It was a constant reminder of the kindness the old man had shown him that first summer. He watered it religiously, pruned its branches and removed any dead leaves. The ritual always calmed him, and soon the cruel taunts of his nightmare faded until they were little more than a whisper in his head.
That morning, several of the bonsai’s miniature green leaves showed tints of golden brown and fiery red, announcing the arrival of autumn. With only a season left to go before snow heralded the selection trials for the Circle of Three, the sensei had intensified their training, increasing the complexity of the techniques and pushing the students to their limits. Jack was really starting to struggle with the regime.
Securing his bokken in his obi, he summoned up the energy he would need to get through the day.
‘Again, kata four!’ ordered Sensei Hosokawa.
The students sliced the air with their bokken, repeating the prescribed series of moves. They had performed hundreds of cuts already that morning, but Sensei Hosokawa’s lesson was relentless.
Jack’s arms were burning with the exertion, sweat poured down him and his bokken felt as heavy as lead.
‘No, Jack-kun!’ corrected Sensei Hosokawa. ‘The kissaki stops at chudan. You are slicing through the belly of your enemy – not trying to chop off their feet.’
Jack, who usually excelled during the sword class, was having great difficulty keeping up. His aching limbs just wouldn’t respond and the bokken kept dropping way past its target.
