The Way Of The Dragon (16 page)

‘An empty cup waits:

Filled to the brim with thought

now too full to drink.’

There was some respectful applause at Takuan’s answer, though many were bemused that he’d replied to a
koan
with a
haiku
.

‘That’s a very imaginative way of saying you don’t know,’ Sensei Yamada chortled. ‘But I was looking for an
actual
answer.’

The girls gave a disappointed sigh. Jack offered Takuan a sympathetic shrug. Since Yori’s chat with him, Jack no longer felt threatened by Takuan. Even though it still bothered Jack every time Takuan asked after Akiko, the boy had really helped him with his horsemanship. In the past month, Jack had learnt to canter and soon, Takuan promised, he would be galloping. Not that this made the slightest impression on his
kyujutsu
teacher, who still insisted he train on the wooden dobbin, much to his continued frustration and embarrassment.

‘Doesn’t anyone have an answer?’ Sensei Yamada asked, looking around hopefully.

Greeted with silence, the Zen master turned to Yori.

‘Yori-kun, what do you think?’

‘Does it
really
matter?’ Yori replied grumpily.

Sensei Yamada’s eyes almost disappeared into his head as his face crinkled in utter astonishment. The monk hadn’t expected his most promising student to respond with such discourtesy. Nor had the rest of the class, who stared aghast at Yori’s attitude.

‘We’re going to war! What’s the point in answering a
koan
, or composing a
haiku
,’ Yori continued, picking angrily at the sleeves of his kimono. ‘Shouldn’t we be learning to fight instead?’

Sensei Yamada took a long slow breath and steepled his fingers beneath his chin. The class waited on tenterhooks for his response.

‘I appreciate your concerns, Yori-kun,’ he said, fixing Yori with a steely glare, ‘but I am surprised that
you
of all my students question the purpose of my classes.’

Yori swallowed guilty and looked as if he was about to burst into tears.

‘Let me make clear the crucial importance of these lessons.’ The Zen master’s tone was measured but severe, delivered like a rap across the knuckles. ‘The
Niten Ichi Ryū
does not train ignorant thugs. You are following the Way of the Warrior and this entails mastering
all
the Arts. You’re not a mercenary. You’re not a dim-witted
ashigaru
. You are samurai. Now act like one!’

Yori bowed his head in shame, his little rebellion over. Sensei Yamada turned his attention upon the rest of the class.

‘That goes for all of you. A nation that draws too broad a difference between its scholars and its warriors will have its thinking done by cowards and its fighting done by fools!’

The Zen master stood up and strode over to a large bowl. Made of hammered bronze, the singing bowl was seated upon an ornamental cushion and red lacquer stand. When struck, the bowl rang like a heavenly gong, its resonance pure and rich. Jack had heard its harmonious tones during the
Ganjitsu
celebrations at New Year.

‘Perhaps you need a more practical demonstration of the esoteric spiritual arts?’ said Sensei Yamada, sounding the bowl with a large wooden striker. It rang loud and clear, echoing endlessly throughout the Buddha Hall. ‘Maybe it’s time I taught you
kiaijutsu
.’

All of a sudden the students were abuzz. Jack looked around, wondering what was going on.

Saburo leaned over and excitedly whispered, ‘It’s the secret art of the
sohei
!’

The
sohei
, as Jack knew, were the legendary warrior monks of the Enryakuji Temple. It was rumoured that using
ki
, their spiritual energy, they could defeat their enemies without even drawing their swords. The
sohei
became the most powerful Buddhist sect in Japan, until forty years ago the samurai General Nobunaga gathered together a massive force and destroyed them. It had been thought that no warrior monks survived the attack. Jack, however, had discovered that Sensei Yamada himself had once been
sohei
. But only he, Akiko and Saburo had known this. Until now.

As the singing bowl’s ring faded to nothing, so too did the students’ chatter. Sensei Yamada seemed pleased to have their undivided attention.

‘What purpose has a
kiai
in a fight?’ he asked the class.

Several hands shot up, all eager to respond.

‘It’s a shout that scares your opponent,’ said Kazuki.

‘A battle cry to help focus and strengthen your attack,’ suggested Yamato.

‘The yell confuses your enemy,’ blurted Saburo.

Sensei Yamada pointed to Akiko, who was waiting patiently to give her answer.

‘It helps you to overcome your fear.’

Sensei Yamada nodded, waving the other students’ hands down.

‘Yes, it is all those. But what you’re describing is purely a shout – a
kakegoe
. A
kiai
is something deeper. It is the projection of the fighting spirit into the voice.’

The class all looked bemused.

‘How do you do it?’ asked Saburo eagerly. Jack smiled to himself. Never before had he seen his friend so animated during one of Sensei Yamada’s classes.

‘In essence, you channel your inner energy,
ki
, through a battle cry, and strike at your enemy’s own spiritual energy. When mastered,
kiaijutsu
can be a weapon as devastating as any
katana
.’

Though no one would dare question Sensei Yamada, there were many incredulous looks and a few snorts of disbelief.

‘You don’t believe me?’ he said, a mischievous twinkle in his eye.

Walking to the other side of the hall, the old monk turned to face the singing bowl and took a deep breath as if preparing for meditation. Without warning, a shout exploded from him. It was so forceful and unexpected, several students screamed.

On the other side of the hall, the bowl rang out as if struck by a mallet.

The class was stunned into silence.

‘The
sohei
developed secret mantras for the most dangerous
kiai
,’ explained Sensei Yamada. ‘I will teach you these words of power, but they should never be used except in battle. With a
kiai
, you directly attack your opponent’s spirit and their will to fight. The shout literally shocks him into defeat.’

From personal experience, Jack knew Sensei Yamada was capable of unbelievable feats of martial arts. After all, it had been the Zen master who’d taught him the devastating butterfly kick. But to Jack’s Western thinking, this was something else. A skill beyond belief.

‘Sensei,’ said Jack, raising his hand, ‘a person is completely different from a bell. How can a
kiai
possibly defend against a sword attack?’

‘Perhaps you need a little convincing?’ said Sensei Yamada, smiling playfully. ‘Attack me with your
bokken
.’

Jack hesitantly got to his feet and approached the Zen master. He now regretted expressing doubt at his teacher’s powers. Looking into the monk’s eyes, he could see the
sohei
spirit in him.

‘But didn’t you say a
kiai
should only be used in battle?’

‘Yes, I did, but don’t worry. I’ve done this many times before. I won’t kill you.’

‘Shame!’ muttered Kazuki under his breath.

Jack ignored the comment, too nervous about what Sensei Yamada might do to him.

‘The first
kiai
you’ll be taught is “YAH!”,’ Sensei Yamada lectured as Jack withdrew his sword and prepared to attack. ‘This power word represents the sound and force of an arrow being released. With this
kiai
, you penetrate the opponent’s spirit just like an arrow.’

He beckoned Jack to begin. ‘Do not hold back.’

Jack charged at Sensei Yamada.

‘YAH!’

One moment Jack was striking with his
bokken
. The next he was flying backwards, all the power knocked out of his attack.

Jack landed on the temple floor, stunned. It was as if someone had punched him in the gut. His body felt tight and he found it hard to breathe. He flashed back to the time Dragon Eye had executed
Dim Mak
on him, blocking and destroying his
ki
. That Death Touch had almost killed him.

‘The feeling of constriction will pass,’ said Sensei Yamada, noting Jack’s distress. ‘I held back from using a full
kiai
.’

‘That
was
impressive,’ said Kazuki. ‘Can you do it again?’

‘No! The risk of internal injury is simply too great,’ explained Sensei Yamada. ‘A single demonstration is fine, but two attacks like that could kill.’

He helped Jack back to his feet.

‘Now I want everyone to attempt this
kiai
.’

A mixture of excitement and concern consumed the class.

‘Don’t worry,’ said Sensei Yamada, holding up his hand. ‘In these lessons, you’ll only practise on the singing bowl.’

Groans of disappointment emanated from Kazuki and his gang.

‘Remember, this is a skill to be used in battle, against your enemy. Now line up, so each of you can have a go.’

The students formed an orderly queue. The first in line was Saburo. Sensei Yamada positioned him a single pace from the bowl.

‘To perform this
kiai
, you must act like a bow and arrow. Inhale and draw your
ki
into the
hara
,’ he explained, indicating the area just below Saburo’s stomach. ‘This action is like an archer drawing back the bow. Then exhale, tightening the stomach and letting out a “YAH!”. This should have the feel of firing the arrow.’

Saburo screamed at the top of his lungs, his face turning bright red with the exertion. ‘YAAAAAAAAH!’

The bowl remained stubbornly silent.

‘Very good, Saburo-kun, full of intent,’ praised Sensei Yamada, ‘but you must ensure the sound isn’t forced out of the throat. The
kiai
should come from the
hara
and that way it will contain your
ki
.’

Saburo nodded keenly and hurried to the back of the line for another attempt.

‘As everyone’s skill grows, you’ll be able to make the bowl sing. With practice, you’ll move further away from the target until you can defeat your enemy at any distance.’

The rest of the afternoon was filled with a cacophony of shouts, yells and battle cries. When it came to Jack’s turn, he bellowed as loud as he could. But just as it had with everyone else’s attempts, the singing bowl remained unmoved.

Next, Yori meekly stepped up to the mark.

Jack watched as his friend took a breath and… squeaked.

The whole class erupted with laughter at the pathetic sound he’d produced. Even Sensei Yamada couldn’t help but smile.

Yori didn’t know where to look. Curling up with shame, he seemed to shrink into himself. Like a startled mouse, he scurried out the doors of the Buddha Hall.

‘Choose your weapon,’ ordered Sensei Kyuzo, picking Jack from the line of students in the
Butokuden
.

The
taijutsu
master stood in the centre of the
dojo
, his tiny rock-hard fists planted firmly on his hips. Not much bigger than a child, he was dwarfed by the huge pillars of cypress wood that supported the
Butokuden
‘s immense vaulted ceiling. Yet, as every student in the
Niten Ichi Ryū
knew, this teacher of unarmed combat was not to be underestimated. He was as mean and dangerous as a pit viper.

Sensei Kyuzo’s beady black eyes followed Jack’s progress across the
dojo
to the Weapons Wall. Jack gazed in awe at the collection of armaments. There were the familiar
bokken
and
katana
swords, plus a good selection of deadly
tantō
knives. Jack also spotted a couple of
nodaichi
– their
saya
extra long to accommodate the huge blades. He recalled Masamoto facing one during a beach duel and how his guardian had been forced to use an oar to overcome the
nodaichi
‘s deadly reach.

To his left hung several bows and arrows, alongside numerous wooden staffs of varied lengths. On his right a neat rack of spears promised a multitude of gruesome deaths – some had simple spikes to skewer; others had sharpened edges to slice and hack; and a number had trident-shaped prongs to inflict the greatest possible damage on impact.

Spread throughout the display were more specialized weapons. Jack wasn’t surprised to see a Japanese fan among the arsenal. He’d faced one of these innocent yet deadly weapons when a
kunoichi
, a female ninja, had tried to club him to death with one – the spine of a
tessen
being made of reinforced metal. But there were also
manriki-gusari
chains, several curved-bladed
naginata
, sickle-shaped
kama
and a large oak club encased in iron with vicious-looking studs.

‘Move it! There’ll be a war on before you’ve made your mind up,’ grunted Sensei Kyuzo, the tuft of moustache beneath his nose twitching impatiently.

Jack decided to go for the club. If Sensei Kyuzo wanted a weapon then he’d get one.

But the club was so heavy Jack discovered he could hardly lift it. It went crashing to the floor, crushing his foot. The class burst into fits of giggles as Jack hopped around in agony.

‘You need real muscles to wield a
kanabō
,
gaijin
!’ snorted Sensei Kyuzo. ‘Choose something suited to your limited capabilities.’

Irritated, Jack grabbed the nearest thing to him. A
tantō
.

As usual, Sensei Kyuzo had picked on him to be his
uke
, demonstration partner. Jack, therefore, knew he was about to suffer the customary abuse and humiliation of being thrown, kicked, pinned and punched across the
dojo
floor. But this was the first time they’d used weapons in a
taijutsu
class and Jack wasn’t looking forward to the consequences.