The Way of the Warrior - Chris Bradford [78]
‘I won’t ever be able to do this,’ Jack had said in despair as he’d landed upon his back for the fifth time, barely a week before the Taryu-Jiai.
‘Whatever you believe, will be, Jack-kun,’ replied Sensei Yamada matter-of-factly. ‘It’s not the technique you need to master, it is yourself.’
That was all he had proffered as encouragement. This had left Jack more frustrated than ever at the sensei’s garbled teachings. Could the old monk not see that the technique was beyond his abilities? Yet still Sensei Yamada demanded he practise Chō-geri every night until his body ached with the effort.
Standing in the boiling courtyard surrounded by a throng of well-wishers, Jack just hoped all the pain and effort would be worthwhile. But it was too late to worry about such things now.
The day of the Taryu-Jiai had arrived.
‘Jack-kun! Jack-kun! Jack-kun!’
The chants filled his ears and he was funnelled across the courtyard and into the Nanzen-niwa, the Southern Zen garden. Akiko and Saburo were already there, waiting for him by one of the large standing stones. Masamoto and Kamakura sat upon a shaded dais at the north end of the garden. They were flanked on either side by the sensei of their schools, all wearing full ceremonial kimono. Students lined both sides of the garden in neat, disciplined rows, the Niten Ichi Ryū on the east side, and the Yagyu Ryū on the west.
Jack’s heart pounded in his chest.
‘Samurai of the Niten Ichi Ryū. We salute you!’ shouted a bald-headed official in a stark white kimono.
There was thunderous applause from the crowd and Jack, Akiko and Saburo instinctively drew closer together in a protective huddle.
As the applause faded, Masamoto and Kamakura conversed politely, but their outward civility did little to hide the underlying animosity between the two samurai. Masamoto was especially grim. The absconding of his son had aged the samurai more than any battle scar could have. He bore the shame of his son’s desertion like a wound that would never heal.
‘Samurai of the Yagyu Ryū. We salute you!’ shouted the official.
The students on the west side of the garden applauded and let out a battle cry of ‘Yagyu! Yagyu! Yagyu!’
The monstrous form of Raiden strode into the garden and took his place by the standing stone opposite them. Jack had forgotten just how big the boy was. Raiden may have appeared the oversized ape at the hanami in spring, but today he looked a bull, brutal and terrible. The Taryu-Jiai wasn’t going to be a contest. It would be a slaughter.
Behind him emerged the lean figure of a girl with raven-black hair. She moved in a quick, calculated manner, as if every step was part of a kata. Her eyes were sharp black diamonds and her thin-lipped mouth a red slash across her powdered white face. She was enticing in a deadly way, thought Jack, a viper poised to strike. Then the girl gave a crack of a smile, exposing her teeth.
They were painted entirely black.
Jack had barely got over the shock, when the final Yagyu warrior entered. The whole of the Niten Ichi Ryū school erupted in astonishment. It was not Toru.
It was Yamato.
Jack couldn’t believe that it was actually Yamato standing with the Yagyu School. He had not seen him since spring. There had been rumours amongst the students that he had joined the Yagyu Ryū, but for him to compete against his father’s own school was beyond comprehension.
When Masamoto recognized who the final participant was, he sprang to his feet, his eyes bulging with outrage. He spun on Kamakura, but was stymied by anger. Kamakura sat, unflinching, relishing the moment. The great Masamoto had been unhinged.
‘This was not what was agreed. Where is the other samurai?’ said Masamoto with scarcely controlled restraint.
‘Did I forget to tell you? I’m so sorry. He was unfortunately called away by his father and we had to replace him with one of my other students,’ replied Kamakura, deliberately lingering over his final words.
‘Your student? This is unacceptable.’
‘I’m afraid the rules of the Taryu-Jiai clearly state that