The Way Of The Dragon (9 page)

‘So you’re going to do it?’ Saburo asked eagerly.

Yamato nodded. ‘It’s time
someone
taught Kazuki a lesson.’

Having returned to his tiny paper-walled bedroom in the Hall of Lions, Jack got changed out of his ceremonial kimono into his training
gi
. He neatly folded the kimono and laid it upon the
tatami
-matted floor beside his swords,
bokken
and the little
inro
carrying case containing Akiko’s black pearl. The ninja
tantō
was wrapped in a cloth nearby and he slipped it beneath the kimono. It felt safer there, out of sight and out of mind.

As an afterthought, he placed the Daruma Doll on top. The single eye Jack had painted on its mischievous face two years previous stared back at him with indifference. Jack was supposed to fill in the other eye once the wish he’d made on the doll came true. But the Daruma Doll had yet to deliver on its promise. Until then, Jack thought, it would make a good talisman against the evil spirit of the Kunitome blade. Not that he believed a word the tea-house owner had said.

Hearing the other students leave their rooms, Jack got up and quickly watered his
bonsai
, which sat upon the window sill of the room’s small lattice window. The little tree looked a great deal healthier since being cared for by Uekiya. Then he hurried from his room to find his friends waiting in the courtyard. Together they headed over to the
Taka-no-ma
for their first lesson with Sensei Nakamura. No one yet knew what martial art she would be teaching but, like many of his classmates, Jack had decided to bring his
bokken
just in case.

Inside the Hall of the Hawk, they were greeted by five regimented rows of tiny wooden tables laid out across the
dojo
floor. Upon each table was a bamboo writing brush, an ink block and several sheets of plain paper.

‘Leave your weapons at the door,’ instructed Sensei Nakamura. Her command was softly spoken, though her voice carried clearly throughout the Hall.

She sat motionless beneath the shrine in her black kimono, her hair a billowing snowdrift down her back.

The thirty students did as they were told and Sensei Nakamura waited patiently while everyone settled at their tables. Jack found a place between Yamato and Saburo in the third row and sat down cross-legged upon the floor. Akiko, Kiku and Yori took their places in the line in front. On the first row, Jack spotted Emi, Cho and Kai. They’d positioned themselves next to the new boy, Takuan, while Kazuki and his Scorpion Gang ensured they had the back row all to themselves.

The lesson was still a mystery to everyone, so there was a great air of expectation in the room. Jack looked around and couldn’t see anything in the
dojo
that resembled a
naginata
. Without weapons, he wondered whether they might be training in
taijutsu
, but Sensei Kyuzo already taught them hand-to-hand combat. The pieces of paper upon the tables hinted that they might be doing
origami
, but Zen Buddhism, meditation and the spiritual arts were Sensei Yamada’s responsibility. With the ink and brush present, Jack feared they would be doing a written test. In spite of Akiko’s private lessons in
kanji
, Jack knew he wouldn’t be capable of writing at any length.

Before the sensei even spoke, the class became still as if some soundless command had been issued.

‘My name is Sensei Nakamura,’ she said quietly, ‘and I will be teaching you
haiku
.’

The announcement provoked a mixed reaction from the class. Many of the students were disappointed, while a few looked absolutely delighted with the news.

‘What’s
haiku
?’ whispered Jack, seeing that Yori had already picked up his brush in eager anticipation.

‘Poetry,’ groaned Saburo in response.

Sensei Nakamura’s eyes turned upon Saburo and he fell silent under her stern gaze.

‘For those unfamiliar with the form,’ continued Sensei Nakamura, addressing the class, ‘let me explain its main principles.
Haiku
is a short poem, usually consisting of seventeen sound syllables, in which it should be possible to deduce the season. However, these basic rules may be disregarded, for it is the spirit of
haiku
that counts above all.’

Sensei Nakamura picked up a piece of paper by her side and read slowly from it.

‘Flying of cranes

as high as the clouds –

first sunrise.’

Several of the students began a respectful round of applause at the verse and everyone else soon joined in. Sensei Nakamura gave a slight incline of the head to show her appreciation.

‘
Haiku
is a keen observation of the world around you,’ she lectured. ‘A great
haiku
verse should pin the moment; express the timelessness of it.’

She extracted another sheet from her pile and in a voice that seemed to whisper into each individual’s ear, she read:

‘Look! A butterfly

has settled on the shoulder

of the great Buddha.’

This time every student applauded.

Yori leant over in excitement to Kiku and enthused, ‘Did you hear how Sensei compared the fleeting nature of a butterfly with the eternal Buddha? Suggesting there’s no difference between a living being and the embodiment of life in a stone statue.’

‘Yes,’ agreed Kiku breathlessly. ‘Magical!’

Saburo rolled his eyes at Jack. ‘So, it’s “Yori the Poet” now, is it?’ he teased good-humouredly.

Jack laughed. They all knew Yori was the eager scholar, being the only one among them who could solve Sensei Yamada’s
koan
challenges. The riddles the Zen master set each week seemed impossible, yet somehow Yori always came up with an answer.

A sharp clap of Sensei Nakamura’s hands ceased the chatter.

‘As I’ve demonstrated,
haiku
is to look closely at the world around us and our place within that world. Now I want you all to attempt your own
haiku
. Think about a moment in your life and capture it in a poem. Don’t worry about form. Focus on the spirit. Try to leave yourself out of it. No thoughts. No opinions. Just let it be.’

Everybody studiously bent their heads to the desks and began preparing their ink blocks to write.

Jack did the same, but had no idea what he was supposed to write about. He stared out of the window at the afternoon sun warming the green tiles of the Buddha Hall opposite.

His concentration began to drift.

Kazuki’s threats earlier that day played on his mind. The news
daimyo
Kamakura was offering rewards to hunt down Christians was worrying. While he was relatively safe under Masamoto’s protection inside the
Niten Ichi Ryū
, he was now fearful that
anyone
might try to attack him, not just samurai loyal to
daimyo
Kamakura.

The situation in Japan appeared to be getting worse, but what else could he do other than let matters run their course? When he’d first been suspended from school, Jack had considered heading to Nagasaki to try and find a ship bound for England. There had seemed little point in staying if he couldn’t continue his samurai training and learn the Two Heavens. Yet he knew it was foolish of him to think he could make it all the way to Nagasaki on his own, half-trained. With no food, money or weapons, he wasn’t likely to survive much beyond the outskirts of Kyoto. Besides, every time he thought about leaving something held him back. After two years in Japan, he realized he’d become attached to the place. More importantly, he owed his life to Masamoto and felt duty bound to stay.

Thankfully, having been given a reprieve, his guardian would now be teaching him his legendary double sword technique. Gazing out of the window, Jack wondered how hard it would be to learn to fight with two swords. He envisaged that once he’d mastered it, he would be invincible like Masamoto himself. He would no longer have to fear for his life. Jack began to imagine fighting Dragon Eye and defeating him once and for all.

He noticed Yamato was also staring into space. No doubt he was preoccupied with the forthcoming match against Kazuki and his gang. Jack had tried to dissuade his friend, but the jibe that he didn’t merit Two Heavens training had riled him. Yamato stubbornly refused to back down. He seemed determined to prove himself against all the odds.

Jack wasn’t sure how long he’d sat there daydreaming, but suddenly he became aware that Sensei Nakamura was looking at him.

‘Do you require some help?’ she enquired.

‘Sorry, Sensei,’ mumbled Jack, ‘but I’m not sure what I should be writing about.’

She nodded once thoughtfully.

‘When a friend asks you, “What is it?”, “What’s the matter?” or even “What made you smile?”,
haiku
is the answer to that “what?”,’ she explained. ‘You cannot share your feelings with others unless you show the cause of those feelings.
Haiku
is about sharing the moment. Now try again.’

Jack took up his brush and pretended to write. Though he understood the principle of
haiku
a little better, his mind remained blank. Everyone else appeared to be progressing well with the task, even Saburo. He glanced over at his industrious friend, only to discover he was doodling pictures of samurai and ninja.

‘This lesson’s for girls,’ complained Saburo.

Akiko turned round and glared at him.

‘No, it’s not,’ she said, indignant at Saburo’s prejudice. ‘Most of the
famous
poets happen to be men. Not that their work is any better than a woman’s, as proven by Sensei Nakamura’s
haiku
.’

‘What’s the point in a samurai learning
haiku
?’ Saburo persisted. ‘We’re supposed to be training to be warriors, not poets. You can’t exactly fight an enemy with words.’

‘Those that talk most hear least,’ Sensei Nakamura observed from her position beneath the shrine. Again her command wasn’t loud, but it was as forceful as if she’d shouted at them.

‘Still seems pointless to me,’ he muttered under his breath as he bowed and dipped his brush back in the ink block.

‘He who works only with his hands is a mere labourer,’ proclaimed Sensei Nakamura.

Jack almost jumped out of his skin. The teacher had drifted across the hall as silently as a ghost and was suddenly beside them.

‘He who works with hands and head is a craftsman,’ she continued, inspecting Saburo’s sketches with weary disappointment. ‘But he who works with his hands, head and heart is an artist. The same can be said of the swordsman. You may be able to use your hands, Saburo-kun, but you’ve yet to prove you can use your head or your heart.’

Shamed into silence, Saburo bent his head and began to write.

Jack returned to staring out of the window. He was still uninspired and any ideas he did have seemed weak or stupid to him. He watched the sun slowly make its way across the temple’s roof, time seeming to stretch on and on.

Sensei Nakamura eventually brought the exercise to an end.

‘Now I want you to share your
haiku
with the person next to you,’ she instructed. ‘See if they can experience the moment you were trying to express.’

Jack turned to Saburo, empty-handed.

‘Don’t worry about it,’ said Saburo. ‘I think you’ll like mine, though.’

Saburo quietly read his poem to Jack and Jack couldn’t help but snigger.

‘You find the task amusing?’ enquired Sensei Nakamura.

‘No, Sensei,’ replied Jack, trying to suppress his grin.

‘Perhaps you’d like to read out your
haiku
.’

Jack looked down at his desk, embarrassed. ‘I couldn’t think of one.’

‘You’ve had all afternoon, yet not managed a single word?’ she said, dismayed. ‘Well then, let us hear from your friend.’

Saburo looked shocked. He clearly hadn’t thought they would have to read out their
haiku
to the class.

‘Do I have to? It’s not very good,’ he excused himself.

‘Let me be the judge of that,’ insisted Sensei Nakamura.

Saburo reluctantly got to his feet, his paper trembling in his hand. He cleared his throat, then began:

‘Letting out a fart –

it doesn’t make you laugh

when you live alone.’

There was a burst of raucous laugher from the back row. Most of the students, however, tried to hide their amusement when they saw the icy look Sensei Nakamura gave Saburo.

‘Very amusing,’ she noted. ‘In fact, it’s
so
good, I think you should write it out a thousand times.’

Immediately regretting his rebellious act, Saburo bowed and sat back down.

‘I trust other attempts are more appropriate for the classroom.’

‘Sensei?’ invited Emi, putting her hand up. ‘I think this one’s good.’

‘Very well, let’s hear it,’ agreed Sensei Nakamura, nodding.

Emi passed the
haiku
back to its owner.

Takuan graciously accepted it and stood. He gave a humble bow, then in a honeyed tone read:

‘Evening temple bell

stopped in the sky

by cherry blossoms.’

There was a hushed silence as the students nodded appreciatively, then everyone started to clap.

‘Very perceptive,’ commended Sensei Nakamura, ‘but if it had been anything less, I would have been very disappointed.’

Takuan appeared a little downhearted at his mother’s damning praise. He bowed and sat down.

‘We will continue next week. In the meantime, I expect everyone to have composed at least one more
haiku
.’

The students all bowed and made their way out of the
Taka-no-ma
, leaving the lone Saburo to write out his poem a thousand times.

‘He’ll be lucky to finish before bedtime,’ observed Yamato as he slipped his sandals back on.

‘Serves him right for being disrespectful,’ Akiko declared.

‘But you have to admit, it was funny,’ replied Jack. ‘And you can’t deny he captured a moment.’