The Way of the Warrior

by Chris Bradford

  The crowd exploded in an uproar and the official was almost hoarse from shouting by the time he managed to regain control.

  ‘As deemed by Emperor Kammu, the father of Kyoto, the Rite of the Jade Sword can be invoked upon the occasion of a draw in a Taryu-Jiai. It has been agreed that the samurai who retrieves the Jade Sword from the Sound of Feathers waterfall and presents the sword to the founder of their school will be deemed the champion. We will commence the rite in four sticks of time outside the Buddha Hall.’

  The crowd broke up in feverish excitement.

  The Rite of the Jade Sword had not been invoked for over a hundred years. There had not been any need. In living memory, no schools had ever drawn.

  38

  THE SOUND OF FEATHERS

  WATERFALL

  The incense gave a last puff of smoke then died.

  ‘Hajime!’ cried the Imperial Palace official.

  Jack sprinted for the door, Yamato hard at his side.

  The cheers swelled as they broke free from the Buddha Hall and flew down the stone steps two at a time. The crowd, which had amassed in the courtyard, parted like one immense human wave as Jack and Yamato hurtled towards the main gate.

  Outside the Niten Ichi Ryū, Jack and Yamato veered left up the street and the crowd surged out behind, willing them on.

  A few students tried to keep up but Jack and Yamato soon broke away.

  At the end of the road, Yamato edged ahead and suddenly took a short cut down an alleyway. Jack kept close on his tail, the noise of the crowd fading behind them. He didn’t want to lose Yamato. Not that he was worried about getting lost. Akiko had told him how to get to the Sound of Feathers waterfall. Jack just didn’t want to get too far behind so early on in the race.

  In the run-up to the start of the Rite of the Jade Sword, Akiko and Saburo had bustled Jack into the Hall of Lions in a frantic attempt to prepare him. While Jack changed into a fresh kimono and feverishly gulped down food and water, Akiko explained the history of the Jade Sword.

  ‘The Jade Sword belonged to Emperor Kammu himself, the founding father of Kyoto. It is said that the samurai who wields the Jade Sword can never be defeated. Emperor Kammu therefore commanded that it never leave Kyoto so that his city would always be protected. He presented the Jade Sword to the Buddhist priest Enchin for safekeeping, who placed it at the very top of the Sound of Feathers waterfall in order that it could overlook Kyoto and guard the source of the Kizu River.’

  ‘So where is this waterfall?’ asked Jack between rushed mouthfuls of rice.

  ‘It is behind the Kiyomizudera Temple in the mountains. You reach it by the steep path that leads off from the main bridge.’

  ‘You mean the bridge we entered Kyoto over?’

  ‘Yes. The path will be on your left. It winds up the mountain and will take you directly to the Nio-mon, the Gate of the Deva Kings. This is the main entrance to the temple. You cannot get lost,’ she said emphatically as she tied Jack’s obi round him.

  ‘It’s a pilgrim path and is clearly marked. Once inside the complex, head directly for the Sanju-no-to, it’s a three-storeyed pagoda, the same colour as the torii in Toba. Then cut through the Dragon Temple and the middle gateway to the Hondo. This is the Main Hall. On the other side is where you will find the Butai, the monk’s dancing stage, and to your left the Sound of Feathers waterfall and the Jade Sword shrine.’

  ‘That doesn’t sound too difficult.’

  ‘Don’t be fooled, Jack. Enchin placed the sword there for a reason. The waterfall is extremely dangerous. The rocks are slippery and wet and the climb is impossibly steep. Many samurai have fallen in their quest to touch the sword, but only a few have ever laid their hands upon it.’

  Then before Jack could ask any more questions, he was hurried into the Buddha Hall to begin, the weight of the Niten Ichi Ryū’s honour resting entirely upon his shoulders.

  ‘Watch where you’re going!’ shouted an irate merchant as Yamato and Jack careered past the man’s market stall, knocking fruit to the floor.

  They dodged and weaved through the throng of startled shoppers, soon reaching the outskirts of the city. Jack was relieved to escape its stifling heat. Yamato got to the bridge first and clattered over it before bearing left up the pilgrim path. In the distance, Jack could see the Sanju-no-to, the three-storeyed pagoda poking above the trees.

  Akiko had been right; there was no way Jack could have got lost. A steady flow of pilgrims were making their way up to the temple. Hawkers lined the dusty path, proffering talismans, incense and little paper fortunes, while more reputable merchants sold water, sencha and noodles to the multitude of exhausted and famished travellers. Jack weaved his way in between them, trying to gain on Yamato.

  ‘More haste, less speed!’ cried one of the hawkers, waving a paper fortune in Jack’s face as he shot by.

  Jack kept going, increasing his speed.

  Yamato had already entered the forest that marked the lower reaches of the mountain. The path wound its way up the slope, disappearing and reappearing among the swath of trees. Jack welcomed the cool shade as he too reached the forest. His heart hammered in his chest but he continued to pump his legs, working hard to catch up with Yamato. The route became steadily steeper and as Jack rounded a bend he saw Yamato beginning to slow up.

  Jack reckoned he could pass Yamato when the path straightened out again, so gave an extra burst of speed, but as he took the corner he collided full force with a large soft belly. He bounced off and landed unceremoniously in a heap on the stony ground.

  ‘Whoa! Slow down, young samurai,’ said a rotund monk in saffron robes, rubbing his generous stomach tenderly.

  ‘Sorry,’ said Jack, hurriedly scrambling to his feet and dusting himself off, ‘but need to catch up… matter of honour.’

  Jack bowed quickly, then sprinted after Yamato.

  ‘Oh, the youth of today, so eager for enlightenment… Buddha will wait, you know!’ called the monk amiably after the rapidly receding figure of Jack.

  Jack couldn’t see Yamato as he dashed round the final bend and passed under the Nio-mon, the Gate of the Deva Kings. Barely glancing at the two huge lion-dogs that guarded the entrance against evil, he ran up the flight of stone steps, past startled pilgrims and through a second gateway to the Sanju-no-to. The three-storeyed pagoda was painted a deep red and clearly stood out against the dull brown of the other buildings.

  Yamato was still nowhere in sight as Jack hurried towards the Hondo, the Main Hall, an immense building that dominated the temple complex.

  He passed through a small shrine, bearing a vivid painting of a coiled jade-green dragon on the ceiling, under another gateway guarded by lion-dogs, and entered the outer sanctuary of the Hondo. Weaving his way through the pilgrims prostrating themselves in prayer, he headed straight for the inner sanctum.

  Inside, there were only a few bemused-looking monks, who observed the hot, sweaty and out-of-breath gaijin with serene interest. The inner sanctum was dark and cool and, unlike the other temples, was decorated with ornate gold-leaf images of the Buddha, but Jack only had time for a fleeting glance as he hunted for an exit.

  ‘Sound of Feathers waterfall?’ asked Jack in desperation.

  A lithe tanned monk, in a half-lotus position, pointed to a doorway on his right. Jack briefly bowed his appreciation, ran through and emerged once again into the bright sunlight.

  He found himself standing upon a large wooden platform, the butai, that jutted out over a deep gorge, thick with lush vegetation and trees. The sound of water thundered in his ears and through a fine watery mist, Jack could see the entirety of Kyoto spread out across the distant valley floor. The city shimmered in all its glory like a mirage and a faint rainbow fell upon the Imperial Palace at its centre.

  To Jack’s immediate left, the Sound of Feathers waterfall cascaded over a sheer cliff and into a large rock basin, some five storeys below. The water churned into a frothy confusion of eddies and whirlpools before easing and
then flowing down the gorge into the Kyoto Valley.

  Jack looked up and saw that Yamato was already clambering up the rock face, heading towards the tiny stone shrine perched at the lip of the fall.

  Jack judged that the waterfall was about the height of the crow’s-nest on-board the Alexandria. Yamato was a short way above the butai and clearly struggling. Even from where Jack stood, he could see Yamato’s legs shaking, his hands blindly feeling for the next hold.

  Clambering over the rail of the butai, Jack spotted a narrow ledge from which to begin his own ascent. He would have to jump from the safety of the butai to the cliff. Way below him, the raging pool of water provided his only safety net. Jack took a deep breath, steeling himself for the jump, and leapt for the rock face.

  He landed cleanly upon the ledge but immediately lost his footing on its slippery surface. He slithered out of control down the cliff face. His hands grabbed for a rocky outcrop, his days as a rigging monkey paying off a hundredfold as they instinctively found handholds and halted his descent.

  Jack caught his breath and calmed himself. He would need to be far more careful if he were going to survive this challenge.

  Looking up, he could see Yamato had made little progress, and Jack began his climb with renewed vigour. It might still be possible for him to reach the Jade Sword first.

  Once Jack got used to the slippery surface of the cliff, he began to increase his pace. Rock climbing, Jack discovered, was little different from climbing the rigging on-board the Alexandria and, suffering no fear of heights, he soon levelled with Yamato.

  ‘Are you all right?’ asked Jack, concerned by the quivering form of Yamato.

  Yamato said nothing. He merely glared at Jack, his face drained of colour, and his eyes stony with fear.

  ‘Do you need my help?’ said Jack, remembering how terrified he had been the first time he’d climbed to the crow’s-nest.

  ‘Not from you, gaijin! Once was more than enough,’ he hissed, but his voice cracked with fear as he grimly hung on to the slippery rock, his knuckles white with the effort.

  ‘Fine. Then fall,’ replied Jack and carried on past.

  He reached the lip of the waterfall with no further difficulty. He gave a cursory glance at Yamato, who remained fixed to the rock face like a limpet, then crossed several large rounded stepping-stones to the little shrine erected in the middle.

  He slipped inside and found the Jade Sword within a shady recess.

  It rested upon a ruby-red lacquered stand, glistening in the watery light. The Jade Sword was a ceremonial katana, its saya a scabbard of black lacquered wood into which a golden dragon had been carved. A large jade stone was set into the wood as the eye of the dragon. Jack’s blood ran cold. Dokugan Ryu. Dragon Eye.

  Jack tried to steady his hands as he lifted the heavy sword from its rack. He gripped the leather hilt, feeling the bubbled texture of the white rayfish skin beneath, and withdrew a gleaming blade of polished steel so sharp that it cut the eye just to look at it. The faint shadow of a second dragon had been etched on to the metal’s surface and Jack quickly re-sheathed the shining blade.

  He slipped the Jade Sword into his obi, carefully tying the saya to him, and left the shrine.

  Looking down, Jack saw that Yamato still hadn’t moved.

  He quickly descended and came level with him once more. Yamato didn’t even look at him this time. He merely clung to the cliff wall, his whole body shuddering like a leaf in a storm.

  ‘Listen, you’ve frozen up,’ said Jack, trying to get his attention.

  He had seen this many a time with sailors on-board the Alexandria. The mind seized up with fear and the body refused to move. A swimming sense of vertigo took hold and eventually the sailor lost his grip and fell into the ocean, or worse, on to the deck.

  Realizing Yamato had little strength remaining, Jack had to get him down fast.

  ‘Let me help you. Take your right foot off…’

  ‘I can’t…’ said Yamato in a feeble voice.

  ‘Yes, you can. Just drop your foot and place it on the little ridge below you.’

  ‘No, I can’t… it’s too far…’

  ‘No, it’s not. Trust me, you can do this.’

  ‘What do you care anyway? You stole my father!’ said Yamato viciously, the swiftness of his anger breaking his paralysis.

  ‘Stole your father?’ said Jack, bewildered.

  ‘Yes, you! Before you came, everything was all right. Father was finally beginning to accept me. I was no longer in Tenno’s shadow. Then you stole him –’

  ‘I didn’t steal your father. He adopted me! It wasn’t as if I had a choice.’

  ‘Yes, you did. You could have died with the rest of your crew!’ said Yamato with unbridled hatred.

  ‘Well, you would have been killed by that ninja if it wasn’t for me!’ retaliated Jack.

  ‘That’s exactly what I’m talking about. I could have died a honourable death like my brother. But you went and saved me! I lost face because of you!’

  ‘You Japanese and your sense of pride!’ shouted Jack in frustration. ‘What is it with your “face”? I saved your life. We were… friends. If I’d wanted Masamoto for a father, I could have let you die then. I don’t want your father. I want my father, but he’s dead!’

  ‘Well, maybe I should be dead too!’ said Yamato grimly, looking to the submerged rocks below him. ‘You have the sword. The glory is all yours. My father will never recognize me now. I’ve betrayed him. Whether you want Masamoto to be your father or not, he is yours!’

  With that, Yamato jumped.

  39

  THE APOLOGY

  ‘No!’ screamed Jack, snatching for him, but Yamato disappeared into the white swirling curtain of the waterfall.

  Jack scrambled down the rock face and leapt back on to the butai. He pushed past several pilgrims who had gathered on the wooden deck and were intrigued by what was happening.

  ‘Can anyone see him?’ demanded Jack, peering over the rail and into the churning waters below.

  ‘No. He went under the waterfall. He hasn’t come up yet,’ said one of the pilgrims, eyeing Jack suspiciously.

  ‘He’s probably hit the rocks,’ said another.

  Several more people emerged from the Hondo and ran over to look.

  ‘Hold on, there he is!’ shouted a pilgrim, pointing to the rocky pool.

  Yamato briefly surfaced, gasping for air, then was immediately caught in the current and sucked back under.

  ‘Hey, that boy has our Jade Sword!’ cried one of the monks emerging from the Hondo’s inner sanctum. ‘Seize him!’

  Jack glanced over the edge. He judged the butai was at least as high as the yardarm on the Alexandra, but he had seen sailors fall from greater heights into the ocean and survive. Could he make it?

  ‘Stop him! He has the sword!’ urged the monk.

  Without deliberating any further, Jack leapt from the butai.

  The air rushed past and, for a brief moment, Jack felt weightless, almost at peace. He caught a glimpse of Kyoto through the mist before plunging into the freezing waters.

  The impact knocked the breath clean out of him and he swallowed large mouthfuls of water. Kicking hard against the weight of the sword, he broke the surface and retched several times before regaining his composure.

  Jack looked around for Yamato, but he was nowhere to be seen. Taking several lungfuls of air, Jack dived under the swirling waters.

  He swam towards the waterfall but still couldn’t see any sign of Yamato. Rocks loomed out of the murky waters and eddies pulled at Jack, threatening to hold him under forever.

  His lungs reached bursting point and he was about to head back to the surface when something smooth brushed against his hand. Blindly, he grabbed for it, dragging the object towards him. He got an arm round the dead weight and kicked with both his legs, driving them both upwards.

  Jack and Yamato broke the surface as one, only to be carried over the lip of the rock basin and
down the gorge with the raging river.

  Jack could hear people shouting as he tried to keep himself, Yamato and the sword afloat in the rapids. The water poured through the gorge, relentlessly bearing Jack and Yamato with it, Jack’s energy ebbing away as he desperately swam for the shore.

  They were now far beyond the Hondo, the temple disappearing out of sight as they rounded a bend in the river, but fortunately the waters calmed and Jack somehow managed to reach the riverbank. With the last of his strength, he dragged the limp form of Yamato ashore.

  Collapsing beside him, Jack lay there for a while, gulping air like a stranded fish in the heat of the sun. As he recovered, he vaguely wondered if he had been too late to save Yamato, but then he heard him splutter loudly, retch and come to.

  ‘Let me die,’ he groaned, pulling his wet hair out of his eyes.

  ‘Not when I can save you,’ panted Jack.

  ‘Why? I’ve never shown you kindness.’

  ‘We’re supposed to be brothers. At least that’s what your father commanded, isn’t it?’ said Jack, giving a sardonic smile. ‘Besides, you taught me how to use the bokken.’

  ‘So what?’

  ‘You made me realize that I wasn’t a helpless gaijin,’ said Jack, letting the offensive word hang in the air between them.

  Yamato gave Jack a bewildered look. ‘When have you ever been helpless?’

  ‘When my father was killed, I couldn’t save him. I was defenceless against such skill,’ admitted Jack. ‘Dragon Eye laughed in my face when I tried to attack him. You showed me the Way of the Warrior. You gave me a reason to live and for that I’m grateful.’

  ‘I don’t understand you, gai-… Jack,’ began Yamato, sitting up and holding his head in his hands. ‘I ignored and despised you, yet when that ninja went to kill me, you attacked without hesitation. With honour and courage. I couldn’t have done that. You acted like a brother. A samurai.’