The Way of the Sword

by Unknown

  The Scorpions’ supporters heckled loudly at Jack’s wild pitch.

  Jack ignored them. Instead he watched the ice ball sail up on to the peak of the Hall of the Hawk’s roof. He smiled in satisfaction as it slowly began to roll down the steep angled roof.

  ‘Pathetic!’ cried Kazuki with glee.

  But, unbeknown to Kazuki, the ice ball had picked up speed gathering powder snow as it went. As it reached the heavily laden eaves, its momentum caused the amassed snow to cascade like an avalanche. Kazuki and Hiroto glanced up just in time to see a wave of powder snow come crashing down on them. Within seconds, they were buried up to their necks. As more and more snow slid off the roof, they rapidly disappeared from view, much to the amusement of the crowd.

  Jack emerged from behind his shelter, strolled over to the Scorpion Team’s bokken and lifted it high above his head in a victory salute.

  ‘I pronounce the Phoenix Team the winners!’ Emi announced, smiling broadly at Jack.

  The rest of the Phoenix Team rushed over, lifting Jack high into the air to cheers from all the spectators.

  ‘Brilliant!’ shouted Yamato.

  ‘Inspired!’ agreed Tadashi, slapping Jack hard on the back.

  However, their celebrations were cut short by the jeering from the Scorpion Team.

  ‘The gaijin cheated!’

  ‘He played without honour!’

  ‘Nothing in the rules require snowballs to be aimed directly at an opponent,’ declared Tadashi above the shouting. ‘No question about it, we won.’

  Jack couldn’t help but smile as he watched Kazuki and Hiroto being dug out of the snow. He had beaten the Scorpion Team.

  But his smile faded as an irate and shamed Kazuki shouted for all to hear, ‘Gaijin, you’re going to pay for that with your life!’

  33

  MUSHIN

  ‘I’m going to kill you!’ roared the samurai.

  Jack didn’t know what to do. The sudden attack had taken him off-guard.

  Sensei Hosokawa had gone crazy, his dark eyes merciless and intent on murder. He was charging directly at him with a razor-sharp katana and Jack realized that in the blink of an eye he’d be sliced open like a pig, his guts spilled out across the dojo floor.

  Only a few moments before Jack had been training with Tadashi in the Butokuden in preparation for the Circle, barely a month away. Suddenly, out of nowhere, Jack had caught a gleam of steel and had spun round to see Sensei Hosokawa bearing down on him, his sword drawn.

  Sensei Hosokawa struck with lightning speed, the katana emitting a high whistling sound as it carved across Jack’s chest and down past his stomach.

  Jack shakily looked down, afraid of what he might see. But his entrails weren’t spread all over the floor. His belly remained intact. He was completely unharmed. The only thing cleaved apart had been his obi. The belt, sliced in two, fell to the floor in a defeated heap.

  ‘You’re dead,’ stated Sensei Hosokawa.

  Jack swallowed back his shock, unable to respond. Gradually it dawned on him that this attack had been a ruthless lesson in martial arts.

  ‘You were thinking too much,’ Sensei Hosokawa continued, resheathing his sword. ‘You allowed yourself to be scared and it caused you to hesitate. If you hesitate in battle, you die.’

  Sensei Hosokawa looked at both his students, ensuring they understood the warning.

  ‘B-but I thought you’d gone crazy,’ stammered Jack, suddenly regaining his voice. He trembled with a combination of shock and shame at being the victim of a sword stunt in front of his new friend Tadashi. He felt belittled. ‘I really thought you were going to kill me!’

  ‘No, but next time the attack could be for real,’ replied Sensei Hosokawa gravely. ‘The three evils for a samurai are fear, doubt and confusion. You just displayed all of them.’

  ‘So I’m not good enough? Is that what you’re telling me?’ snapped Jack, his frustration at his progress boiling to the surface. ‘Am I ever going to be? It seems there’s always something wrong with my technique. Why aren’t I getting any better?’

  ‘Mastering the Way of the Sword is a long road,’ explained Sensei Hosokawa kindly. ‘Rushing it only hastens your death. Ichi-go, Ichi-e. Have you heard that phrase before?’

  Jack nodded, remembering the calligraphy on the scroll in daimyo Takatomi’s golden tea room.

  ‘One chance in a lifetime. That is all you ever get in a sword fight.’ Sensei Hosokawa looked Jack in the eye. ‘I want to give you that chance.’

  Jack studied his feet, embarrassed by his outburst when his teacher was only trying to help.

  ‘The Gauntlet was all about fudoshin,’ Sensei Hosokawa continued. ‘You were being tested on whether you were able to control your body and mind under the pressure of an impossible battle. You proved yourself capable of fudoshin then, but fear and confusion during my attack now made you hesitate. You must learn to stare death in the face and react without hesitation. No fear. No confusion. No hesitation. No doubt.’

  ‘But how could I have known that you would attack me? I was concentrating on sparring with Tadashi.’

  ‘Mushin,’ stated Sensei Hosokawa.

  ‘Mushin?’

  ‘Mushin means possessing a state of “no mind”.’

  Sensei Hosokawa began to pace the floor as he always did when he lectured a class. ‘When a samurai is faced by an opponent, he must not mind the opponent; he must not mind himself; he must not mind the movement of his enemy’s sword. A samurai possessing mushin doesn’t rely on what move they think should be next. They act intuitively. Mushin is a spontaneous knowledge of every situation as it occurs.’

  ‘But how should I know what’s going to happen in a fight? Do you mean samurai have to see into the future?’

  Sensei Hosokawa chuckled, amused at Jack’s suggestion.

  ‘No, Jack-kun, though it may appear that they do. You have to train your mind to be like water, openly flowing towards any possibility. This is the ideal mental state of a warrior in combat, one where you expect nothing, but are ready for anything.’

  ‘So how do I get mushin?’

  ‘First you must practise your cuts many thousands of times, until you can perform them instinctively, without conscious thought or hesitation. Until your sword becomes “no sword”.’

  Jack glanced at Tadashi, who quietly stood by absorbing everything that was said. He wondered if Tadashi understood this concept of ‘no sword’.

  ‘I don’t understand,’ Jack admitted, hoping he wouldn’t appear stupid. ‘How can my katana become “no sword”? How can it no longer exist?’

  ‘Your aim is to achieve unity between yourself and the sword.’

  Sensei Hosokawa swiftly unsheathed his katana and held it aloft.

  ‘Once the sword exists only in your heart and mind,’ said Sensei Hosokawa, pressing the tip of his blade against Jack’s chest exactly where his heart lay, ‘then it becomes “no sword”. For when you strike, it isn’t you but the sword in the hand of your mind that strikes.’

  Jack understood only a little of what his sensei was saying. He realized the sword master was teaching him great things, vital skills that he needed, but at the same time the sensei seemed to be tying one arm behind his back. If he was worthy of the Circle of Three and this concept of ‘no sword’ was so important, why wouldn’t Sensei Hosokawa allow him to train with a real blade?

  ‘But, with all respect, if you won’t let me use my katana, how can I make my sword become “no sword”?’

  Sensei Hosokawa’s face suddenly became hard as stone. ‘When you begin to grasp mushin, then I will permit you to train with a sword.’

  Jack grasped at this new glimmer of hope. Eager to pursue ‘no mind’ training, he asked, ‘How long will it take me to master mushin?’

  ‘Five years,’ replied Sensei Hosokawa.

  ‘That long! I can’t wait five years,’ despaired Jack. ‘What if I work really hard at it?’

  ‘Then you will need ten years.�
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  Mystified by this illogical answer, Jack asked, ‘Well, how about if I devote all my time to mushin?’

  ‘Then you will need twenty years.’

  34

  GANJITSU

  The immense temple bell, the size of a mountain boulder, rang out for the one hundred and eighth time, its deep sonorous dong resonating into the night. Spirals of incense smoke swirled through the air and candles fluttered in all corners of the Buddha Hall like a heavenly constellation of stars.

  Jack stood in silence with the entire school as they waited for the slow swing of the long wooden pendulum hammer to come to a rest.

  ‘GOOD FORTUNE FOR THE NEW YEAR!’ announced Masamoto.

  Dressed in his ceremonial flame-red phoenix robes, he stood before a large bronze statue of the Buddha.

  The Niten Ichi Ryū was celebrating Ganjitsu, a festival that marked the beginning of the New Year. Jack had discovered that the Japanese celebrated New Year, not on the first of January like most Western countries, but according to the Chinese calendar several weeks later in anticipation of the arrival of spring.

  It had been Sensei Yamada’s honour to strike the temple bell for the final time to mark midnight, and he now knelt before the Buddha shrine in order to bestow blessings upon the school.

  Robed in their finest kimono, the students formed a line that coiled round the hall like a bejewelled dragon. Jack wore the burgundy silk kimono that Akiko’s mother, Hiroko, had given him on leaving Toba. It bore Masamoto’s phoenix kamon, picked out in fine golden thread so that it caught the light every time he moved. That though was nothing compared to Akiko’s attire. She had a purple orchid in her hair and was dressed in a glorious yellow, green and blue sparkling kimono that appeared to be woven out of hundreds of butterfly wings.

  ‘So why was the bell tolled exactly one hundred and eight times?’ Jack asked as they waited in line to receive their first blessing of the year. The rituals of Buddhism were still bizarre to his Christian way of thinking.

  Akiko didn’t respond. When Jack looked, her attention was elsewhere, her eyes far away, and her face appeared paler than usual.

  ‘Are you all right?’ he asked.

  Akiko blinked and her eyes came back into focus. ‘Yes, I’m fine.’

  Jack studied her a moment longer. She smiled back in response to his concern, but her eyes looked rheumy.

  Beside her, Yori was fumbling with the sleeves of his kimono, which hung too long for his tiny frame. He answered Jack’s question instead. ‘Buddhists believe that man suffers from one hundred and eight desires or sins. With each ring of the bell, one of these sins is driven out and the evils of the previous year forgiven.’

  What a curious way to be pardoned, thought Jack, having been brought up believing only God and Christ alone had the power to forgive sins. Despite his scepticism, Jack thought he could still hear the bell ringing inside his head.

  Then he realized Sensei Yamada was gently striking a large brass bowl while hammering out a hypnotic rhythm upon a wooden block and chanting softly to each student in turn. The bowl sounded as if it was singing, the note going round and round in an undying circle.

  When it became their turn to be blessed, Akiko whispered, ‘Follow what I do.’

  Jack had considered not participating in the Buddhist ceremony, but he realized that with the growing animosity towards Christians and foreigners he needed to blend in as much as possible. Showing his willingness to accept Japanese beliefs might help him to win favour. Besides, as Sensei Yamada had once said, their religions were ‘all strands of the same rug, only different colours’.

  Jack carefully watched Akiko step up to a large urn full of sand, take a stick of incense from a nearby box and light it with a candle. She stuck the incense among the forest of burning sticks, the urn now resembling a huge smoking pincushion. Akiko then bowed twice in the direction of the bronze Buddha, following this with two hand claps and a final bow. Sensei Yamada beckoned Akiko over. She knelt down before him, bowed once more, then offered the monk her orchid as a gift.

  Jack suddenly realized he hadn’t brought a gift to offer the Buddha. But before he could do anything about it, it was his turn. Without any other alternative, Jack stepped up to the urn, a large waft of woody incense filling his nostrils, and repeated the ritual that he had seen Akiko perform. He then knelt and bowed awkwardly before Sensei Yamada.

  ‘I’m sorry, Sensei,’ began Jack, bowing again by way of an apology, ‘but I don’t have anything to give.’

  ‘Don’t worry, Jack-kun. You’re not yet familiar with all our customs,’ said the old monk, smiling serenely back at him. ‘The most perfect gift to offer is an honest and sincere heart. It is clear to me that is exactly what you’ve just brought to the altar and in return I will bestow my blessings upon you for the year.’

  Sensei Yamada began a Buddhist chant that rolled from his lips and flowed warm and hypnotic into Jack’s ears…

  ‘Just as the soft rains fill the streams,

  pour into the rivers and join together in the oceans…’

  …the silken words weaved in and out of the chimes of the singing bowl and Jack felt his eyes begin to close…

  ‘So may the power of every moment of your goodness flow forth to awaken and heal all beings…’

  …Jack’s ears thrummed with each beat of the wooden block and he began to drift, his whole being gently vibrating…

  ‘Those here now, those gone before, those yet to come.’

  He opened his eyes, his mind calmed and his heart filled with an expansive joy.

  His Zen master bowed to indicate the blessing was over. Jack thanked him and got up to depart, when on an impulse he said, ‘Sensei, may I ask you something?’

  The old monk nodded. Recalling Sensei Hosokawa’s riddle of the years, Jack continued, ‘I have to master mushin quickly, but I don’t understand how the harder I work at it, the longer it will take.’

  ‘The answer is to slow down,’ replied Sensei Yamada.

  Jack stared at his teacher, mystified by yet another contradiction. ‘But won’t that take even longer?’

  Sensei Yamada shook his head. ‘Impatience is a hindrance. As with all things, if you attempt to take short cuts, the final destination will rarely be as good and may even be unattainable.’

  Jack thought he understood and Sensei Yamada smiled, recognizing the glimmer of enlightenment in Jack’s eyes.

  ‘More haste, less speed, young samurai.’

  Outside, the courtyard was empty of snow and the early signs of spring could be seen in the budding flowers of the surrounding cherry-blossom trees. Jack, Akiko and the others made their way over to the Hall of Butterflies where the Ganjitsu celebrations were to continue until dawn.

  Inside the Chō-no-ma, tables had been laid with bowls of ozoni soup and plates piled high with sticky white rice cakes called mochi. Several groups of students were already tucking into the feast. A small crowd was gathered around two girls in the middle of the hall who were giggling loudly as they batted a feathered shuttlecock between them with wooden paddles. Jack noticed that the face of one of the girls was covered in large black spots.

  ‘What’s going on?’ asked Jack, sitting down at a free table.

  ‘Hanetsuki,’ Akiko replied, pouring each of them a cup of steaming sencha. ‘If you fail to hit the shuttlecock, your face is marked with ink.’

  A cheer and more laughter erupted as the girl missed the shuttlecock again and had to suffer another blotch of ink.

  ‘May I join you?’ asked Tadashi, bearing a plate of rice cakes.

  Yamato and Saburo shuffled along to make room for him beside Jack.

  ‘Here, try this,’ suggested Tadashi, offering Jack a mochi.

  Jack bit into the rice cake. While it was tasty, it was also very glutinous and he found it difficult to swallow. Tadashi laughed and slapped him on the back to stop him choking. Jack took several swigs of sencha to wash the rice cake down.

  Tadashi offered
the rice cakes to the rest of the table. Everyone tucked in, though Jack noticed Akiko didn’t touch her food. Then he spotted Kazuki and his Scorpion Gang sit down at the table opposite.

  Kazuki glanced over at Jack but ignored him. His friends began to clear the table of plates, while Kazuki dealt out a deck of cards across its surface. They huddled close as he selected a card from another pile and read its contents to the group. Immediately, there began a frenzy of card-snatching and boisterous shouting at one another.

  ‘What’s that they’re playing?’ asked Jack.

  ‘Obake Karuta,’ replied Tadashi, putting down his soup. ‘One person reads out clues and the others have to match it to a legendary character or monster featured on one of the upturned cards. The player who accumulates the most cards by the end of the game wins.’

  ‘Jack, I’ll show you a game you should try,’ Yamato announced, finishing his sencha. ‘Fukuwarai.’

  ‘Fuku-what?’ repeated Jack.

  But Yamato merely beckoned him over to where a group of students was huddled round a picture of a face hung upon the wall. They were all laughing at a blindfolded girl who was trying to pin a mouth on to the face. Judging by the fact that the eyes and nose were located on its chin, she wasn’t doing very well.

  ‘Go on, Jack,’ encouraged Yamato after the girl had pinned the mouth to the face’s forehead, ‘you have a go.’

  Yamato grabbed Jack, blindfolded him and handed him the mouth. He then positioned him three paces in front of the blank face before spinning him round several times.

  Completely disorientated and unable to see, Jack wondered how on earth he would even find the face, let alone pin the mouth in the correct place.

  ‘He’s got no chance,’ he heard Tadashi say. ‘He’s not even looking the right way!’