The Way of the Warrior

by Chris Bradford

  ‘You would have done the same.’

  ‘No… I wouldn’t,’ said Yamato, swallowing hard as if his words had become stones in his throat. ‘The night I saw Kazuki beating you up, I was too afraid to do anything. I knew he was a better fighter than me. He knew it too. I didn’t have the guts to take him on…’

  Yamato turned away, but Jack could see him wiping the back of his hand across his eyes, shuddering with each tearful breath.

  ‘The Seto twins… again I was too scared to help you. I didn’t want to be known as a gaijin lover. And after that night, I was too ashamed to be your friend. You didn’t deserve me. That is the real reason. I’m so sorry…’

  Jack leant forward, a confused expression on his face. ‘I don’t understand. What are you apologizing for?’

  ‘You showed me my true self, Jack, and I didn’t like what I saw. My father was right. I’m not worthy to be a samurai, let alone a Masamoto. You’re more his son than I can ever be. You didn’t steal my father. I lost him by myself.’

  ‘Don’t be an idiot, Yamato. You haven’t lost him. He’s not dead, like mine,’ said Jack pointedly. ‘Masamoto may be angry, but he can have no reason to be ashamed of you. Not with the way you fought today. And if it is a matter of pride between you and me, forget it. Kazuki’s not worth getting upset over. He’s a righteous pompous pig with the face of a lion-dog’s arse!’

  Jack grinned at Yamato and Yamato smiled weakly in return.

  ‘Besides, you’ve now apologized to me. Doesn’t that mean you’ve regained face?’

  ‘I suppose so, but –’

  ‘No buts, Yamato. Every day I have to apologize to Akiko for some blunder or other! She’s taught me everything there is to know about Japanese forgiveness. She forgives me each time, and I now forgive you. Friends?’ said Jack, offering his hand.

  ‘Thank you, Jack,’ said Yamato, uneasy in shaking Jack’s hand in the English custom. ‘But I still don’t understand why you would forgive me.’

  ‘Yamato, you’ve every right not to like me. I hated it when Jess was born and got all my father’s attention. And she’s my little sister! I dread to think what it would have been like if my father had adopted some French boy!’ exclaimed Jack, grimacing at the idea. ‘I don’t blame you for being angry. But it’s not me you should be angry with. It’s Dokugan Ryu. If he hadn’t killed Tenno and my father, we wouldn’t be sitting here now, half-drowned, a stolen jade sword in our hands!’

  The absurdity of the situation suddenly struck home and both the boys began to laugh. The tension between them evaporated as if it had somehow been washed away by the Sound of Feathers waterfall itself.

  After their laughter had died down, they sat there in silence, throwing pebbles into the river, unsure as what to say or do next.

  ‘We had better get back,’ said Yamato eventually. ‘The sun will be setting soon and the Niten Ichi Ryū need to know they have won.’

  ‘You should carry it,’ said Jack, untying the Jade Sword from his obi and handing it to Yamato.

  ‘Why me? You were the one to get it.’

  ‘Yes, but your father doesn’t need to know that, does he?’

  40

  STAYING THE PATH

  Jack and Yamato ran into the Buddha Hall together.

  The Yagyu School went wild when they saw their champion carrying the Jade Sword. Kamakura swelled with pride, adjusting his finery in preparation for accepting the sword and victory.

  Masamoto sat next to him, cross-legged upon the raised dais. His expression, detached and serious, was fixed, for when Yamato had entered the Buddha Hall bearing the sword, it was as if Masamoto had been replaced with a papier-mâché model of himself, a husk that had had all the life sucked out of it.

  The cheering died down to a hushed murmur of respect as Jack and Yamato approached the dais and bowed.

  Akiko and Saburo knelt to the right-hand side, Raiden and Moriko to the other. Akiko gave a forlorn smile, clearly glad to see Jack in one piece but dismayed at their defeat. Yamato stepped forward, the Jade Sword in hand. Kamakura prepared himself to accept the offering.

  It had taken Jack a great deal of persuasion to convince Yamato to carry the sword, but eventually he had agreed, accepting it to be the best way to reconcile him with his father. Jack didn’t care about the honour of winning the Taryu-Jiai. Masamoto had shown him great kindness by taking him in to his family. Jack didn’t want to be the reason for the family breaking apart.

  Yamato bowed once more and went down on one knee raising the Jade Sword above his head with both hands. Kamakura reached out to formally accept the offering and seal his triumph of the Taryu-Jiai, but before he could lay his hands upon it, Yamato turned and presented the sword to his father.

  ‘Father, I ask for your forgiveness and bestow to you what is rightfully the victory of the Niten Ichi Ryū. I was not the one to retrieve the sword. It was Jack.’

  A moment of perplexed silence fell upon the hall.

  Jack’s mouth dropped open in astonishment. This is not what they had agreed. Yes, he was to give the sword to Masamoto, but he was not to say Jack had retrieved it. That was to be Yamato’s glory. The proof Masamoto was looking for that Yamato was good enough to be a samurai warrior, worthy to be a Masamoto.

  Akiko looked in wide-eyed wonder at the bowing Yamato and then at Jack, who was shaking his head in silent dispute.

  Masamoto gave Yamato a dubious look. ‘Is this the truth?’

  ‘Yes, Father. But Jack insisted that I was the one to hand it to you.’

  Ignoring Jack’s protests, Masamoto nodded once, the issue decided. He stood up and took the sword from Yamato’s outstretched hands.

  ‘The Niten Ichi Ryū are deemed the champions of the Taryu-Jiai!’ announced the equally baffled Imperial Court official.

  The whole of the Buddha Hall erupted into a cacophony of cheers from the Niten Ichi Ryū. Raucous heckling exploded from the Yagyu Ryū side and Raiden stamped the ground in frustration, while Moriko bared her black teeth, hissing her disgust at Akiko. Kamakura’s face flushed red with fury and his throat quivered as if he was choking on an oversized frog.

  ‘This is an outrage!’ Kamakura eventually cried, shoving the official to the floor. ‘An outrage!’

  Kamakura threw a curt nod in Masamoto’s direction then stormed out of the hall, his samurai hastening close behind. The official picked himself up and called for silence. Once the noise had finally died down, he deferred to Masamoto.

  ‘Students of the Niten Ichi Ryū!’ began Masamoto, ceremoniously brandishing the Jade Sword and raising it in a heroic salute. ‘Today we have witnessed what it means to be a samurai of this school!’

  There was an explosion of applause. Masamoto held his other hand up for silence, stepped off the dais and walked over to Jack.

  ‘At the start of your year, I said every young samurai had to conquer the self, endure punishing practice, and foster a fearless mind. This boy, Jack-kun, is proof of that. Today, he fought with valour and courage. He defeated the enemy and won honour for this school!’

  There was another explosion of applause even louder than before.

  ‘But bushido is not just about courage and honour. Nor is its purpose fighting and warfare. Though they may be necessary stops on your journey, they are not your destination. The true essence of bushido is rectitude, benevolence and loyalty.’

  Masamoto turned to Yamato and placed a hand on his son’s shoulder.

  ‘Yamato-kun has demonstrated this very essence. Admitting such truth in the presence of so many takes extraordinary courage. Perhaps greater courage than retrieving the Jade Sword itself.’

  Masamoto held the gleaming sword aloft and the school cheered once more.

  ‘Yamato-kun, you have answered my question,’ he continued, looking down at his son with a warmth Jack had never witnessed before. ‘I asked you to tell me what it means to be a Masamoto. What you have just demonstrated is exactly what Masamoto spirit is all about. You have hon
oured and respected Jack-kun, your fellow samurai. You have shown integrity. You are truly a Masamoto. I accept your apology a hundredfold and implore you to return to the Niten Ichi Ryū.’

  Masamoto bent down on one knee to be level with Yamato.

  Jack couldn’t believe it, and by the shocked look on Akiko’s face neither could she. Despite everything that had happened, Masamoto was formally and publicly accepting Yamato. The moment was not lost on the rest of the students and a respectful silence descended upon the hall as they all bowed their respects to Masamoto and Yamato.

  Father and son bowed to one another.

  ‘Bushido is not a journey to be taken lightly,’ he declared, getting to his feet. ‘I told you that the path of the warrior is lifelong and mastery is simply staying the path. Students of the Niten Ichi Ryū – stay the path!’

  The Buddha Hall thundered with fervent applause.

  41

  GION MATSURI

  The little boy in the stark white robes and black hat of a Shinto priest raised the short wakizashi sword above his head and brought it down as hard as he could.

  In a single stroke, he cut the rope and the Gion Matsuri festival began.

  ‘This is amazing! I’ve never seen anything like it,’ enthused Jack.

  Immense wooden floats, adorned with tapestries and columns of bulbous white lanterns that looked like sails soaring into the sky, passed by in a never-ending procession. Some of the floats were carried upon people’s shoulders, while the largest ones, as big as riverboats and bearing finely dressed, white-faced geisha, were set upon wooden wheels and pulled through the streets.

  As the first of these floats approached a street corner, all the men pulling began to chant loudly, ‘Yoi! Yoi! Yoi to sei!’, their rhythm pounded out on large taiko drums on the float’s upper floor. The whole structure began to turn and gradually disappeared round the corner like some huge bejewelled dragon.

  ‘What’s this festival for?’ shouted Jack over the noise of the celebrations.

  ‘It’s a purification ritual,’ replied Akiko, who stood close by in a sea-green kimono decorated with brightly coloured chrysanthemums. ‘A plague swept through Kyoto seven hundred years ago and the Matsuri prevents its return.’

  ‘We had a plague in England too,’ said Jack. ‘They called it the Black Death.’

  The crowd around them surged forward as people jostled for the best position to see all the different passing floats. Emi with two of her friends joined Jack, Akiko and Yamato in the throng.

  ‘How is our victorious samurai today?’ greeted Emi, fluttering a red paper fan against the heat while manoeuvring herself between Jack and Akiko. Akiko frowned at Emi’s unexpected intrusion.

  ‘Great, thanks!’ said Jack. ‘This is a wonderful festival –’

  ‘Come on!’ urged Yamato, seeing Akiko’s prickly reaction. He grabbed Jack’s arm. ‘I know a better place to stand.’

  ‘Sorry, I have to go. Perhaps see you later?’ said Jack, waving at the disappointed Emi as he was dragged by Yamato and Akiko to the back of the crowd, where they found Saburo, Yori and Kiku waiting for them.

  ‘Here, try this!’ greeted Saburo, and shoved a small fish-shaped cake in his hand.

  ‘What is it?’ asked Jack, eyeing the pastry suspiciously.

  ‘It’s taiyaki…’ replied Saburo through a mouthful of the cake.

  ‘Later. We’ve got all afternoon to eat,’ interrupted Yamato. ‘We need to get ahead of the procession to see it all. Follow me!’

  Yamato led them off down a back street and they wound their way through a maze of narrow deserted alleyways before coming out on to the main thoroughfare in front of the Imperial Palace.

  Hundreds of people were already gathered and the street was lined with stalls selling strange sweets, skewers of barbequed chicken, sencha and a vast array of festival delights, from brightly coloured paper fans to gruesome papier-mâché masks, all in readiness for the evening celebrations.

  ‘There! What did I tell you, Jack? We can see the whole procession from here,’ said Yamato eagerly, making his way to the front.

  From the moment of their Taryu-Jiai victory the previous day and his reconciliation with his father, Yamato had been a changed person. No longer was he so serious, or so cold towards Jack. In fact, he took his newfound friendship with Jack so far that Yamato was almost a bodyguard, challenging anyone who referred to Jack as the gaijin.

  Not that many people did. Along with Akiko and Saburo, Jack and Yamato were the heroes of the school. Only Kazuki and his friends remained hostile towards Jack, but they were keeping a low profile while everyone was celebrating the school’s victory over the Yagyu Ryū.

  ‘Look!’ said Kiku. ‘There’s Masamoto!’

  ‘Where’s he going?’ asked Jack.

  ‘To meet the Emperor, of course!’ said Kiku in reverential awe. ‘Our Living God.’

  ‘You may have won the Taryu-Jiai,’ explained Akiko, ‘but as the founder of the Niten Ichi Ryū, Masamoto gets the honour of meeting the Emperor himself.’

  Masamoto, bearing the Jade Green sword and flanked by Sensei Yamada, Sensei Kyuzo, Sensei Hosokawa and Sensei Yosa, all in full ceremonial regalia, entered through the immense gateway of the Imperial Palace and disappeared behind the tall earthen walls.

  Jack wondered what it would be like to meet a ‘Living God’.

  The rest of that afternoon was spent watching the passing parade of floats, geisha and musicians, while Jack was introduced to a bizarre variety of Japanese foods. Saburo appeared to greatly enjoy experimenting with Jack’s taste buds, force-feeding him with varying levels of success. Jack enjoyed the takoyaki, a dumpling made of batter, ginger and fried octopus, but he found the obanyaki, a thick round pastry filled with custard, sickly sweet. As they wandered the streets, Saburo kept giving Jack various fried pancakes.

  ‘They’re called okonomiyaki. It means “cook what you like, when you like”,’ explained Akiko, a disgusted look on her face as Jack tucked into his fourth one, ‘but I wouldn’t trust it. You never know what they might have put in it!’

  ‘Quick, over here,’ shouted Yamato, waving them to a stand on the corner of a side street. ‘This stall’s selling some of the best masks I’ve seen yet!’

  ‘Here, Jack, this one will suit you,’ said Saburo, handing him an ugly red demon mask with four eyes and metallic gold teeth. ‘It should improve the way you look!’

  ‘Well, you had better have this one, considering you fight like one!’ retorted Jack, passing him the wrinkled, half-sunken face of an old woman.

  ‘Ha, ha!’ replied Saburo humourlessly, but took it anyway. ‘What about this one for you, Yamato?’

  ‘Yes, why not? It’s got spirit,’ said Yamato, examining the gold mask of a madman with spikes of black hair.

  ‘Which one are you going to get, Akiko?’ asked Jack.

  ‘I was thinking of that one,’ she said, pointing to a red and gold butterfly mask.

  ‘Yes, you would look quite lovely in that…’ began Jack, but he stopped when he saw the surprise on Saburo and Kiku’s faces at his unexpectedly affectionate compliment.

  ‘Well… it would be better than that… lion-dog mask over there,’ he finished awkwardly and gave a dismissive wave of the hand.

  ‘Thank you, Jack,’ she said, smiling graciously, and turned to the merchant.

  Jack was relieved Akiko had her back to him, for she missed seeing him blush. But Yamato saw it and meaningfully raised his eyebrows at him.

  Not long after sunset, all the lanterns on the procession floats were lit, transforming Kyoto into a magical nighttime paradise. The lanterns floated through the streets like vast cloud formations lit from within by tiny suns. Everyone donned their masks and the streets came alive with music and merriment.

  Many of the floats ground to a halt as the men began to drink from large bottles of saké, and it was not long before the sounds of revelry could be heard coming from every street corner.

  As
Jack, Akiko, Yamato and the others made their way back to the main thoroughfare for the evening fireworks, a group of drunken samurai staggered past, forcing Jack to jump out of their way.

  He collided with a man in black who was wearing an ebony devil mask with two sharp red horns and a small white skull carved in the centre of its forehead.

  ‘Out of my way!’ hissed the black devil.

  Jack stared through his own demon mask at the man and froze.

  The man irritably shoved Jack out of his way and hurried down the street before disappearing into a narrow side alley.

  ‘Are you all right?’ asked Akiko, rushing over to Jack.

  ‘I think… I just saw Dragon Eye!’

  42

  DOKUGAN RYU

  ‘You must be mistaken. Dokugan Ryu would never dare show himself at a festival,’ said Akiko as they all ran down the alleyway after the black devil.

  ‘I definitely saw him,’ said Jack. ‘He only had one eye and it was green! How many Japanese do you know who have one green eye?’

  ‘One,’ admitted Yamato.

  ‘Exactly. I just pray he didn’t recognize me.’ Jack pulled off his mask as he ran. ‘So where does this alley lead?’

  But before Yamato could answer, they rounded a corner and found themselves opposite Nijo Castle. They had emerged at one of its side entrances, a small gateway accessed via a narrow bridge across the moat.

  ‘Do you think this ninja of yours went inside the castle?’ said Saburo uneasily.

  ‘Must have,’ said Jack, looking up and down the deserted thoroughfare. ‘Where is everyone?’

  ‘They’ll all be watching the fireworks by the Imperial Palace,’ said Kiku.

  Jack searched the darkness for any sign of Dragon Eye. Nothing moved. That was the problem.

  ‘Where are the guards?’ asked Jack. ‘I thought this is where Emi’s father lives. Isn’t Takatomi the daimyo of Kyoto? Surely he would have guards on all his entrances?’

  ‘Yes, but it’s Gion Matsuri,’ said Yori. ‘He’ll be at the festival and so will most of his guards.’