The Way Of The Dragon (17 page)

‘A predictable choice,’ said Sensei Kyuzo, ‘but a practical one for demonstrating how to disarm an opponent. Stab me in the stomach.’

Jack blinked in surprise.

‘Do it!’ commanded Sensei Kyuzo.

Jack thrust the blade at the sensei’s gut. The
taijutsu
master slipped to the outside and slammed his fist on to the back of Jack’s wrist while simultaneously striking Jack in the throat. The
tantō
dropped to the floor a moment before Jack did.

‘The first principle of disarming is to get out of the way,’ lectured Sensei Kyuzo as Jack lay gasping for breath. ‘Even if the technique is executed poorly, you’ll have avoided immediate danger.’

Jack slowly got to his feet, massaging his throat. As he was still conscious, it meant Sensei Kyuzo had pulled the strike. But the blow had
definitely
been harder than necessary.

He spotted Akiko with her head in her hands, dismayed at his treatment by their sensei.

‘Choose another weapon,’ ordered the sensei, without giving Jack time to recover.

Jack decided upon a
bokken
. By selecting the wooden weapon he was familiar and quick with, he might stand a chance of getting his own back. Jack turned to face his teacher.

‘A sword-bearing samurai is harder to disarm,’ explained the sensei, nodding at Jack to begin. ‘Distance and timing are crucial.’

With lightning speed, Jack cut down at Sensei Kyuzo’s head.

Only because the
taijutsu
master knew what to expect was he able to evade the sword so easily. Stepping to Jack’s right-hand side, he blocked and grabbed Jack’s elbow and wrist, executing a lock on him.

‘The second principle is to inflict pain, thereby distracting and maybe even disabling your opponent,’ Sensei Kyuzo explained as he added pressure to the lock and made Jack’s face contort with agony. ‘In this instance, you can follow through with the sword and cut your opponent in half.’

Forcing the
bokken
down and round, he freed the sword from Jack’s grasp and drove the blade up between his legs. The class all winced as the
kissaki
of the
bokken
was then drawn from his groin up to his chest. Even though the contact was light, it still hurt and Jack was very glad he hadn’t selected a steel
katana
.

‘If you can gain control of your opponent’s weapon, even better. This is the third principle,’ lectured Sensei Kyuzo, ignoring Jack’s suffering. ‘Now, come at me with a spear.’

Infuriated, Jack picked the lethal trident-shaped spear and charged at his sensei. Calmly, the
taijutsu
master dodged the sharpened prongs and kicked Jack in the shins. Grabbing hold of the spear, he twisted it out of Jack’s hands and slammed him in the jaw with it. Jack was floored a second time.

‘Get up!’ sneered Sensei Kyuzo, showing no sympathy. ‘I’ll give you one last chance to get me. Unless you’re too feeble.’

Shaking his head clear, Jack staggered back to his feet. He could see Akiko now had her eyes covered with her hand, unable to watch any more. Yamato was silently willing him to give up while he had the chance.

Though Jack knew his sensei was baiting him, his blood was boiling and he couldn’t resist a last attempt. Scanning the wall, he looked for a weapon that would keep his sadistic teacher at bay. He picked up a length of chain with a weight on the end. This had to be it.

Whirling the
manriki-gusari
above his head, he advanced on the
taijutsu
master. Jack was pleased to see Sensei Kyuzo immediately backing away.

‘Such a weapon is very difficult to disarm,’ said the sensei, retreating further. ‘You cannot block it. You cannot grab it. You cannot easily avoid it.’

Jack grinned. For the first time, he
had
Sensei Kyuzo. He’d beaten him. And now he would strike…

‘Your only option is
kuki-nage
,’ shouted Sensei Kyuzo, whirling towards Jack. ‘An air throw!’

Jack whipped the chain round as fast as he could. Sensei Kyuzo, arms outstretched, spun within its arc. His lead hand caught Jack in the head and, using the momentum of Jack’s strike, he whipped him off his feet. The other hand took control of the chain and drove Jack towards the ground. Jack flew through the air and landed hard upon the
dojo
floor for a third time, his arm trapped in a painful lock.

‘The air throw is based on the principle of the sphere: a sphere never loses its centre,’ explained Sensei Kyuzo. He disarmed Jack of the
manriki-gusari
but kept the lock on, despite Jack’s submissive taps. ‘In this case, you cannot resist the force. You have to go with it, throwing your attacker in the air.’

Jack tapped louder, the pain in his arm growing unbearable. But Sensei Kyuzo continued to ignore his calls of submission.

‘You’ve now seen the four disarming techniques that you’ll be working with. These could save your life in a battle. Pair up. Choose a weapon. Then practise on one another.’

He finally released Jack, discarding him like an unwanted toy.

Rubbing his aching elbow joint, Jack joined Akiko and the others at the Weapons Wall.

‘Why do you let him goad you like that?’ said Akiko, glancing at Jack with concern as she weighed a spear in her hand.

‘I never
volunteered
to be the
taijutsu
punchbag,’ protested Jack. ‘He always has it in for me. But at least I know whose side he’ll be on, when there’s a war.’

‘Jack, don’t say such a thing,’ she scolded. ‘You can’t question his loyalty to Masamoto-sama. If Sensei Kyuzo heard you talking like that, he’d give you punishment for a month.’

Jack shrugged. ‘He’ll punish me anyway.’

‘This
is
heavy,’ grunted Saburo, trying to lift the
kanabō
for himself. ‘It would certainly crush a skull or two!’

Yamato was swinging the chain in his hand. ‘Jack, this was a good choice of weapon, but if you wanted distance, why didn’t you use a bow and arrow against Sensei Kyuzo?’

‘Good idea, he’d
never
be able to defend against that!’ puffed Saburo, the iron club in his hands.

‘Wouldn’t I?’ challenged the
taijutsu
master, who’d suddenly appeared behind Saburo.

‘Well… surely, it would be impossible,’ Saburo stammered, dropping the
kanabō
with a loud bang.

‘It’s merely a matter of reflexes.’

‘But how could you
stop
an arrow?’ exclaimed Saburo, taken aback by Sensei Kyuzo’s blasé attitude.

‘With your hands.’

Saburo snorted incredulously.

Sensei Kyuzo glared at him for his impudence, but then noticed that his students had all gathered round. They were looking expectantly at him, wanting to see this great feat.

He snatched a bow from the Weapons Wall. ‘I need someone who can fire an arrow straight. Akiko-chan, I instruct you to shoot me in the heart.’

Sensei Kyuzo walked to the other end of the
Butokuden
, ignoring Akiko’s protests.

‘What are you waiting for?’ he snapped. ‘We’re wasting valuable lesson time.’

Despite the samurai’s impatience, Jack thought his sensei was relishing the opportunity to display his martial arts skills. The man was conscious of his diminutive size and loved proving he was stronger, quicker and more skilled than anyone else.

Akiko nocked an arrow and drew back on the bow. Her hands were shaking slightly as she took aim.

A tension hung in the air. No one moved. Everyone waited to see what Sensei Kyuzo would do.

Akiko released the bowstring and the arrow flew towards their teacher.

Sensei Kyuzo didn’t move a muscle.

The arrow shot past his shoulder and struck a pillar behind.

‘I told you to aim it at me!’ he shouted angrily. ‘There’s no point in me trying to stop an arrow that isn’t a threat.’

Akiko licked her lips nervously and strung a second arrow. This time, she aimed for the heart.

Jack knew she wouldn’t miss. They were about to witness the death of their sensei.

The arrow flew through the air, straight and true.

At the very last second, Sensei Kyuzo caught the arrow with his right hand.

The students gasped in astonishment.

Sensei Kyuzo took a moment to enjoy the stunned expressions of all the young samurai, before striding triumphantly back up the
dojo
and handing Akiko the arrow.

‘Any further questions?’

‘Have you heard the news?’ said Saburo, hurrying across the courtyard the next day.

Jack, Yamato and the others were heading to the Hall of the Hawk for a
haiku
lesson. They stopped as Saburo gathered his breath.

‘Last night someone set fire to the Catholic church next to the Imperial Palace!’

‘The war’s started then,’ said Kiku, her face blanching slightly.

‘No, it was a one-off attack. The sensei think a passing
ronin
did it on his way to Edo. I heard
daimyo
Takatomi’s furious about it.’

‘Was anyone hurt?’ asked Jack tentatively.

Saburo gave a solemn nod of his head. ‘A priest was trapped inside.’

They all fell silent. Jack felt
daimyo
Kamakura’s noose tighten another notch. It seemed that every week they had word of another foreigner or priest who’d been persecuted, but this was the first religious attack to have occurred within Kyoto itself.

‘What about the
ronin
?’ asked Yamato.

‘No one knows. But apparently the Tokaido Road north to Edo is crowded with samurai and
ashigaru
, responding to the call to arms.’

‘Where are they all coming from?’ said Kiku. ‘Kamakura’s army is going to be unstoppable.’

‘Don’t forget the four other Regents of the Council all have armies of their own,’ said Akiko, trying to calm her friend. ‘Together, they’ll easily outnumber Kamakura’s forces.’

Jack was about to ask another question when he spotted Yori emerging from the Buddha Hall. ‘Where have you been?’ he exclaimed.

They ran over to Yori who was now slumped on the steps of the
Butsuden
, a small brass bowl in his lap. He gazed up at them and offered an exhausted but untroubled smile.

Saburo plonked himself down beside Yori.

‘You missed the most amazing
taijutsu
lesson yesterday. Sensei Kyuzo caught an arrow with one hand!’ he said, snatching an imaginary one from the air.

Yori raised a weary eyebrow in acknowledgement of his friend’s enthusiasm.

‘Are you all right?’ Akiko asked, kneeling down in front of him. ‘We’ve been worried about you, ever since you ran out of Sensei Yamada’s lesson.’

‘I’ve been apologizing to Sensei,’ Yori replied quietly.

‘For over a day?’ said Kiku, exchanging a worried glance with Akiko.

‘Sensei Yamada had words with me. Quite a few, in fact. Then he made me polish the bronze Buddha to give me time to think about what he’d said.’

‘But that statue’s huge!’ said Jack, inspecting Yori’s tiny hands black with grime. ‘That’s unfair. You only left his lesson.’

‘No, I was highly disrespectful,’ reminded Yori. ‘Sensei Yamada was right to punish me. Besides, I’m feeling better now he’s explained things.’

‘What did he say then?’ asked Yamato.

‘Sensei Yamada said that as samurai, we must devote ourselves with equal passion to both fighting
and
the creative arts. It is our duty to ensure we have a peace worth fighting for.’

Yori raised the little brass bowl and cushion out of his lap.

‘He’s also given me this singing bowl to practise on.
Kiaijutsu
isn’t about how loud the shout is; it’s about how focused the
ki
is,’ explained Yori, his eyes sparkling with determination. ‘Sensei Yamada said that even the smallest breeze can make ripples on the largest ocean.’

Sensei Nakamura returned Jack’s attempt at
haiku
. She gave him a single despondent shake of the head that sent a shudder down her mane of snow-white hair.

‘You insist on putting your own opinion into the poem,’ she said, her tone cold as the grave. ‘
Angry
sea.
Pretty
blossom. How many times have I told you not to use words that impose your personal response on the moment you’re describing? The reader of your
haiku
might not have the same reaction as you.’

‘
Hai
, Sensei,’ replied Jack with a weary sigh. He still didn’t understand. He thought poetry was all about love, emotion and passion. That’s why that playwright William Shakespeare was so popular in England. ‘Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day? Thou art more beautiful…’ or something like that. The Japanese, on the other hand, seemed so detached from their emotions that they weren’t even allowed to express them in a poem.

Sensei Nakamura moved on to Yori. With a dour expression, she studied his page.

‘A fair attempt. You show promise,’ she began.

Yori smiled hopefully. Her praise, though, was short-lived.

‘But you must avoid saying the same thing twice in your
haiku
. You begin here with
cold
dawn and then go on to observe the
chilly
breeze. Not good. You’ve wasted a word and haven’t told the reader any more about your subject. Try again.’

Abashed, Yori took back the
haiku
and began to rewrite it.

Sensei Nakamura worked her way through the students, admonishing them for their various faults and very occasionally offering faint praise.

‘Kazuki-kun, recite your
haiku
to the class. I would like to commend yours.’

Standing, paper in hand, Kazuki proudly read aloud:

‘Take a pair of wings

from a dragonfly, you would

make a pepper pod.’

There was a generous round of applause, but Sensei Nakamura cut it short with a stern look. ‘I said I
would
like to commend it. But this isn’t in the spirit of a
haiku
. The boy has killed the dragonfly. To compose a
haiku
, you must give life to it, you should say: