The Way of the Warrior - Chris Bradford [49]
‘From every tiny bud springs a tree of many branches,’ he continued, his austere tone thawing slightly. ‘Every castle commences with the laying of the first stone. Every journey begins with just one step.2 To assist you in making that first step and the many others you will take, I present your sensei. REI!’
All the students bowed, their heads touching the tatami mat as a mark of their complete respect for their teachers.
‘First, Sensei Hosokawa, master of kenjutsu and the bokken.’
Masamoto acknowledged the samurai to his immediate right, the one who had directed Jack to his room earlier that day. A fierce-looking warrior with jet-black hair swept up into the customary topknot, Hosokawa possessed dark piercing eyes and tugged thoughtfully at his sharp stub of a beard.
‘Together with myself, he will train you in the Art of the Sword and, should you demonstrate excellence, we will impart to you the technique of “Two Heavens”.’
Sensei Hosokawa stared at them, as if assessing each student in turn for their right to be there. He then bowed his head, apparently satisfied. Jack wondered what the ‘Two Heavens’ technique was and looked across to Akiko to ask, but she like everyone else was staring resolutely in the direction of the sensei.
‘To Sensei Hosokawa’s right is Sensei Yamada, your sage in Zen and meditation.’
A bald-headed man with a long, wispy grey beard and a crinkled old face dozed at the far end of the table. He was thin and reedy, as if grown from a bamboo shoot, and Jack guessed he had to be at least seventy years old, for even his eyebrows had gone grey.
‘Sensei Yamada?’ asked Masamoto gently.
‘Hai! Dōzo, Masamoto-sama. It’s good to have an end to journey toward,’ said the old man with considered care, ‘but it’s the journey that matters, in the end.’3
‘Wise words, Sensei,’ responded Masamoto.
Sensei Yamada then nodded forward and appeared to drift back to sleep. Jack wished he could fall to sleep so easily in such a position. His knees were already stiffening up and his feet ached.
‘You must stop fidgeting,’ whispered Akiko, seeing Jack shift his weight around. ‘It is disrespectful.’
No sympathy from her, thought Jack, perhaps the Japanese were born kneeling!
Masamoto turned to a young woman on his left. ‘Now I present Sensei Yosa, mistress of kyujutsu and horsemanship.’
The sensei wore a shimmering blood-red and ivory kimono adorned with a kamon of a moon and two stars. Her black hair glistened in the light of the numerous lanterns hanging from the walls of the Chō-no-ma, giving it the appearance of a cascading waterfall. Jack quickly forgot his kneeling misery as, like the rest of the students, he was immediately captivated by this female warrior.
‘She is undoubtedly one of the most prodigious talents in the Art of the Bow,’ explained Masamoto. ‘I would go so far as to say she is the finest archer in all the land. I truly envy those who benefit from her tutelage.’
As she bowed, her chestnut-coloured eyes never left her students. They darted to each as if calculating distance and trajectory. She reminded Jack of a hunting hawk, elegant and graceful, yet sharp and deadly. Then, as she sat back up, she drew her hair behind her ears and revealed an ugly ruby-red scar that cut the entire length of her right cheekbone.
‘Finally, but by no means least, may I introduce Sensei Kyuzo, master of taijutsu.’
A small man perched at the end of the table to Sensei Yosa’s left. He had black specks for eyes and a tuft of a moustache beneath a flattened pudgy nose.
‘He is your authority on all matters of hand-to-hand combat: kicking, punching, grappling, striking, blocking and throwing. The skills you will learn from Sensei Kyuzo will feed into everything you do here.’
Jack was amazed. The sensei could not have been much bigger than a child and seemed an extremely odd choice for a tutor of hand-to-hand combat. Jack noticed that many of the other new students wore similar looks of disbelief.
The small man gave an irritable