The Way of the Warrior

by Chris Bradford

  The floor rushed up to meet him. With a sickening crunch, he landed on his back, the wind completely knocked out of him. He lay there, gasping for breath.

  A second later, Yamato crumpled in a pile next to him, followed by Saburo who dropped on top of them both, pinning them to the floor.

  ‘Idiot!’ they both barked at Saburo.

  ‘Sorry. His claims just seemed a little… unbelievable,’ replied Saburo, rolling off them and rubbing his chest.

  ‘Well, now you know they weren’t!’ said Yamato, kicking him away.

  Jack shot Saburo a resentful look. It was his fault that they were in such trouble. Sensei Kyuzo had been introducing himself and listing his victories over various renowned warriors, when Saburo inadvertently snorted his disbelief and Sensei Kyuzo had stormed over.

  ‘What was that? Think I’d lie for the benefit of a snivelling kohai? Think someone my size cannot defeat a six-foot Korean warrior? Get up! You, Yamato-kun and the gaijin there,’ he said, stabbing a gnarled finger at Jack. ‘Attack me. All of you at once.’

  They had stood awkwardly in the middle of the Butokuden, looking like startled rabbits. The old man was smaller than all of them, but appeared as dangerous as a rattlesnake.

  ‘Come on. I thought you were samurai!’ he taunted. ‘I’ll even it up a little. I promise only to use my right arm.’

  The class had sniggered at this outlandish gesture.

  ‘Attack me now!’ he screamed.

  They had stared at one another, then, as one, charged at Sensei Kyuzo. Jack had not even touched the sensei before he was flung through the air, crash-landing on the dojo floor moments before Yamato and Saburo joined him in humiliating defeat.

  As Jack knelt back in line, he noticed Kazuki smirking at him.

  ‘I am grateful to my parents for giving me a small body. Warriors underestimate me. You underestimate me,’ said Sensei Kyuzo defiantly. ‘Have I knocked belief into you yet, Saburo-kun?’

  ‘Hai, Sensei,’ said Saburo, bowing so quickly that his forehead struck the floor.

  Sensei Kyuzo continued to lecture them, while forcibly punching and stabbing his fingers at a wooden post. His fingers, hard as iron, made the post shudder each time he struck it.

  ‘In order to overcome bigger opponents, I have had to hone my techniques to perfection and train twice as hard.’

  His voice pummelled their ears in short bursts, keeping time with his punching.

  ‘If my enemy trains one hour, I train two. If they train two hours, I train four. The key to taijutsu is hard work, constant training and discipline. Hai?’

  ‘Hai, Sensei,’ said each student.

  ‘I asked if you understood. The Gods in Heaven need to hear your answer. Hai?’ demanded Sensei Kyuzo again.

  ‘HAI, SENSEI!’ They yelled in unison, their shout resounding off the walls.

  ‘Every time you step out of that door, you face ten thousand foes. Hai?’

  ‘HAI, SENSEI!’

  ‘Regard your hands and feet as weapons against them. Hai?’

  ‘HAI, SENSEI!’

  ‘Tomorrow’s victory is today’s practice. Hai?’

  ‘HAI, SENSEI!’

  ‘Your first year of taijutsu will be devoted to basic techniques.’

  Sensei Kyuzo continued to verbally punch the air with his words while slamming the wooden post with his fist.

  ‘Master the basics. They are all that matter. Get your stances right. Make your moves precise. Then you can fight. Fancy techniques are for travelling fairs and impressing the ladies. The basics are for battle.’

  Suddenly he stopped his pounding of the post.

  ‘You, gaijin! Come over here,’ ordered Sensei Kyuzo.

  ‘My name is Jack, Sensei,’ replied Jack stiffly, taken aback at the sensei’s insulting use of the term.

  ‘Fine. Gaijin Jack, come here,’ he said, beckoning him with one sharp flick of his hand.

  Kazuki let out a snort of laughter, whispering ‘Gaijin Jack’ under his breath to Nobu.

  ‘Kazuki-kun!’ said Sensei Kyuzo, without taking his eyes off Jack. ‘I trust that you will live up to your father’s reputation as a samurai. Pay attention!’

  Jack got up and stood opposite Sensei Kyuzo. He didn’t know what to expect; the sensei was clearly ruthless. Jack certainly wasn’t going to underestimate him again.

  ‘Before we deal with kicking, punching or throwing, you must be able to control your enemy. We are going to start with grabs and locks, since it is easier for you to feel the energy lines in a hold than a strike.’

  He squared up to Jack, eyeing him meanly.

  ‘Grab my wrist as if you were trying to prevent me from drawing my sword. Attack me!’ he ordered Jack.

  Jack stepped up and warily took hold of the sensei’s arm. His own wrist instantly flared with pain and he involuntarily dropped to his knees to relieve the agony. Sensei Kyuzo had merely wrapped his hand over Jack’s arm and twisted it towards him, but the effect was overpowering.

  ‘This is nikkyō. It applies painful nerve pressure to the wrist and forearm,’ explained Sensei Kyuzo. ‘Tap your hand on your thigh or the floor when it gets too unbearable, gaijin.’

  Sensei Kyuzo then rolled Jack’s wrist a notch further and Jack was blinded with agony. Jack slapped his thigh manically and the technique came off. Through eyes watery with pain, Jack could see Kazuki thoroughly delighting in his public suffering.

  ‘Get up and attack me as hard and fast as you can,’ he ordered.

  Jack did, but was immediately driven to the ground again by the excruciating agony of the same simple move. Jack’s hand thrashed wildly on his thigh and the pressure was released.

  ‘You see the soft controls the hard. The harder Gaijin Jack tried to attack, the easier it was for me to defeat him,’ he said, a callous smile on his lips as he demonstrated the technique several more times for the benefit of the class.

  Sensei Kyuzo then performed further techniques on Jack, flinging him around like a puppet, using him as a punching bag, pushing him over for having a poor stance. By the end, Jack was exhausted, battered, bruised and aching.

  ‘Now I want all of you to practise nikkyō. Partner up – decide who is the tori, executing the technique, and who is the uke, receiving the technique. Kazuki, why not train with my uke? He should be nicely warmed up for you.’

  Jack groaned inwardly at the unfairness of it all, but was determined not to let his frustration get the better of him in front of Kazuki.

  ‘Since you are my uke, Gaijin Jack, I go first,’ said Kazuki, offering his arm for Jack to grab.

  ‘Remember, everyone,’ warned Sensei Kyuzo. ‘If the technique is applied too severely, tap the floor or your thigh to let your partner know. They must release you.’

  Jack clamped his hand over Kazuki’s wrist, confident that Kazuki’s inexperience would mean he would not be able to apply the technique. But Kazuki had clearly practised nikkyō before. Jack dropped to his knees, his body instinctively reacting to avoid the pain.

  Jack tapped his thigh.

  Kazuki applied more pressure.

  Jack tapped harder.

  Kazuki twisted Jack’s wrist as far as it would go. So acute was his agony that tears streamed down his face. Kazuki looked on, a vindictive glee in his eyes.

  ‘Change partners,’ commanded Sensei Kyuzo.

  ‘Good training with you, Gaijin Jack,’ spat Kazuki, discarding Jack’s wrist then striding off to find his next victim.

  Jack fumed. He hadn’t even been given the chance to retaliate.

  When class came to an end, Jack was the first out.

  Akiko came hurrying out and chased after him.

  ‘Are you all right, Jack?’ she asked.

  ‘Of course not! Why didn’t Sensei Kyuzo pick someone else to demonstrate on?’ he said, exploding with pent-up rage. ‘He has it in for me. He’s just like Kazuki. He hates gaijin.’

  ‘No, he doesn’t. Sensei Kyuzo will probably use someone else next t
ime,’ she said, trying to placate him. ‘Anyway, it is good to be uke. Masamoto told me that it’s the best way to learn. You will then know how the technique should feel when applied properly.’

  Jack could hear the taunts of ‘Gaijin Jack’ and their accompanying giggles from the passing students as they left the Butokuden and headed to the Chō-no-ma for lunch.

  ‘And what is it with the Gaijin Jack? I don’t go around insulting them!’

  ‘Ignore them, Jack,’ said Akiko. ‘They don’t know any better.’

  But they should, thought Jack. They’re all supposed to be samurai.

  30

  TARGET PRACTICE

  A speck of white, no bigger than an eye, flared brightly in the midday sun. A temple gong chimed, its sound shimmering over the school’s rooftops.

  A streak of feathers, with the speed of a hawk swooping down on its prey, shot through the air accompanied by a high shrill whistling; then a resounding thump, like the single beat of a heart, as the arrow penetrated the very centre of the white target.

  A second arrow struck a moment later, parallel to the first, its feathered flights quivering.

  The students applauded. Sensei Yosa maintained her stance a moment longer, the intensity of her concentration palpable. She then lowered her bow and approached her students.

  ‘Kyujutsu demands a unique combination of talents in a samurai,’ she began. ‘The determination of a warrior, the grace of a dancer and the spiritual peace of a monk.’

  The students listened intently, all gathered at one end of the Nanzen-niwa, the ‘Southern Zen garden’ behind the Butsuden. It was a garden of beautiful simplicity, designed around a long rectangular stretch of raked white sand and decorated with monolithic stones and carefully cultivated plants. An ancient pine tree, twisted and bent by the elements, stood in the opposite corner. Like a frail old man, its trunk was propped up by a wooden crutch. The target was under this tree and, being at the other end of the garden, it appeared no larger than Jack’s own head, its central white bullseye almost undetectable within the two concentric rings of black.

  ‘The bow is the weapon of choice for long-range fighting. It can be fired by both man and woman, girl and boy, with equally devastating results.’

  Jack knelt between Yamato and Akiko, in awe both at the lithe beauty and the supreme skill of Sensei Yosa. He was being taught by a lethal angel, he thought.

  ‘All the daimyo have been trained in kyujutsu, from Takatomi Hideaki to Kamakura Katsuro, to Masamoto Takeshi himself. And, of course, it was the weapon that made Tomoe Gozen a legend.’

  Akiko was transfixed by Sensei Yosa’s words. The mention of Tomoe Gozen had delighted Akiko so much that Jack thought she might burst into open applause at any second.

  ‘Unlike the sword, the fist or the foot, the bow resists you. At full draw the bow is nine-tenths towards actually snapping in half!’

  The students gasped in astonishment. Kazuki, though, gazed around, appearing a little bored with it all. Perhaps there wasn’t enough violence for him, mused Jack.

  ‘Mastering the Way of the Bow is akin to a pyramid, where the finer skills sit atop a very broad and firm base. You must take the requisite amount of time to build up a strong foundation. We will develop each stage in turn over the coming months,’ she said, tenderly caressing the feathered flight of an arrow between thumb and forefinger. ‘Today, though, I simply want everyone to get a feel for the bow. If you’re able, maybe even shoot an arrow.’

  There was a murmur of excitement at the possibility of actually shooting at a target. Akiko knelt even more erect, a wound-up spring ready to jump to her feet at the first opportunity.

  ‘To begin with, please watch closely, so that you can copy my movements,’ said Sensei Yosa, stepping up to the mark. ‘The first principle in kyujutsu is that the spirit, bow and body are as one.’

  Sensei Yosa lined herself up, side on to the target, and settled herself into a wide stance, so that she formed an A-shape with her body.

  ‘The second principle is balance. Balance is the foundation stone to kyujutsu. Picture yourself as a tree. Your lower half is the trunk and roots, stable and solid. Your upper body forms the branches, flexible yet retaining their form and function. This balance is what will make you a great kyudoka!’

  Sensei Yosa held her bowstring with her right hand, then positioned her left carefully on the bow’s grip. She raised the bow, which was taller than she was, above her head and prepared to draw.

  ‘There is a constant struggle between the mind and body to control the flow of the draw. To strike a target with any degree of precision, absolute focus is required. This is the third principle. The slightest imbalance, a wrong breath, any loss of concentration will result in a miss.’

  Sensei Yosa brought the bow down, drawing the string past her cheekbone and the arrow in line with her eye, so that her ruby-red scar was framed between them.

  ‘When your spirit and balance are correct, the arrow will strike its target. To give yourself completely to the Way of the Bow is your spiritual goal.’

  Sensei Yosa completed the draw in a single fluid movement, the arrow soared through the air and once again struck the centre of the target.

  ‘Who would like to have a go first?’ asked Sensei Yosa.

  Akiko’s hand shot straight up. Emi, seeing an opportunity to outshine Akiko again, raised her hand too.

  ‘Well, let us begin with you two. Please use these two bows. They should be of a suitable size and draw strength,’ said Sensei Yosa, indicating the lower part of a rack behind her.

  ‘Good luck,’ said Kiku genially to Emi as the girl rose to take up her position.

  ‘Luck is for the inept,’ she said, dismissing Kiku as if she were some minion, and strode up to the mark.

  ‘Ladies, I would like you to draw the bow as I demonstrated, but do not release until I say so.’

  They both raised their weapons and drew back, framing themselves within the curve of their bows. Standing beside Akiko, Emi was noticeably taller, her slender figure accentuated by unusually long, arrow-straight hair. Her face had a sharp beauty, highlighted by a pinprick of a mouth. In all, Jack thought, she mirrored her family kamon, the crane – tall, slim and elegant.

  ‘Good. You both show acceptable form. You may shoot in your own time; aim at the nearest target,’ she said, pointing to one only ten or so paces away.

  Emi released, but the bowstring caught on her arm and her arrow fluttered weakly through the air before landing short of the target.

  Akiko’s shot was more impressive, flying straight but wide of the target.

  ‘That was a fair first attempt,’ said Sensei Yosa. ‘You have both done this before?’

  ‘Hai, Sensei,’ admitted Emi with a sour look on her face.

  ‘Not me, Sensei,’ said Akiko, much to Emi’s displeasure.

  ‘I am most impressed, Akiko-chan,’ said Sensei Yosa. ‘You demonstrate natural aptitude for the bow.’

  ‘I want to try again with my second arrow,’ demanded Emi petulantly.

  Sensei Yosa, slightly taken aback at the girl’s haughty tone, appraised both the girls before replying. ‘I’m not against a bit of a competition. It encourages talent. Please, both of you step up to the mark. Let’s see if you can hit the target this time.’

  Emi lined up again, drew her bow and shot cleanly. The arrow struck the outer black ring of the target. She looked down her nose at Akiko, assured of her victory.

  ‘Very good, Emi-chan. Let’s see if Akiko-chan can improve on that,’ said Sensei Yosa, setting the challenge.

  Akiko stepped up to the mark.

  Jack held his breath as she positioned herself and took hold of the bowstring. He could see her hands shaking slightly as she reached for the bow grip and tried to calm her breathing. Her face then became fixed with a steely determination. She steadied herself, raised the bow above her head and, lowering it slowly, drew back on the string. Jack could see Emi willing Akiko to miss. And with the bul
lseye appearing so small, how was Akiko ever going to hit it?

  Pulling the bowstring past her cheek, she released the arrow. It cut through the air, and struck the target a thumb’s width closer to the centre than Emi’s shot. Jack let out a celebratory yell and immediately the other students joined in. Akiko beamed with a mixture of delight and astonishment.

  ‘Excellent, Akiko-chan. You may both sit down,’ said Sensei Yosa. ‘Who would like to be next?’

  Several other students immediately threw up their hands, while a disgruntled Emi and a jubilant Akiko knelt back in line.

  Jack watched as each student took their turn.

  When Kazuki and Nobu stepped up, they both selected the biggest bows they could find from the rack, despite Sensei Yosa’s warning that they would be too powerful for them. Nobu immediately proved her right. He lost his grip on the bow, the string snapped back into place and caught him hard across the cheek. Nobu howled in pain, much to everyone’s delight. Even Kazuki laughed at his friend’s misfortune.

  Then it was Jack’s turn.

  He stepped up to the mark, nocked an arrow and drew back his bow. Out of nowhere, something struck him on the cheek. Distracted, he lost his grip and the arrow flew off out of control. It hit a large standing stone and ricocheted towards Sensei Yosa, who was standing to one side. The arrow landed at Sensei Yosa’s feet, snagging the edge of her tabi.

  ‘STOP!’ she shouted.

  No one moved. A deathly silence fell upon the garden. Jack could clearly hear the scrape of the arrow tip as Sensei Yosa tugged it out of the ground, then the crunch of the gravel as she approached.

  ‘Jack-kun,’ she breathed into his ear, ‘did I say you could release your arrow?’

  ‘So sorry, Sensei, but it wasn’t my fault.’

  ‘Take responsibility for yourself! You are the bow. You had control. See me after class, when I will prescribe you your punishment.’

  ‘Excuse me, Sensei Yosa,’ said Yori timorously.

  ‘What is it, Yori-kun?’

  ‘It was not Jack, Sensei Yosa. Someone threw a stone at him.’

  ‘Is this true?’ she demanded of Jack. ‘Who did it then?’