The Way of the Warrior - Chris Bradford [92]
There was an explosion of applause. Masamoto held his other hand up for silence, stepped off the dais and walked over to Jack.
‘At the start of your year, I said every young samurai had to conquer the self, endure punishing practice, and foster a fearless mind. This boy, Jack-kun, is proof of that. Today, he fought with valour and courage. He defeated the enemy and won honour for this school!’
There was another explosion of applause even louder than before.
‘But bushido is not just about courage and honour. Nor is its purpose fighting and warfare. Though they may be necessary stops on your journey, they are not your destination. The true essence of bushido is rectitude, benevolence and loyalty.’
Masamoto turned to Yamato and placed a hand on his son’s shoulder.
‘Yamato-kun has demonstrated this very essence. Admitting such truth in the presence of so many takes extraordinary courage. Perhaps greater courage than retrieving the Jade Sword itself.’
Masamoto held the gleaming sword aloft and the school cheered once more.
‘Yamato-kun, you have answered my question,’ he continued, looking down at his son with a warmth Jack had never witnessed before. ‘I asked you to tell me what it means to be a Masamoto. What you have just demonstrated is exactly what Masamoto spirit is all about. You have honoured and respected Jack-kun, your fellow samurai. You have shown integrity. You are truly a Masamoto. I accept your apology a hundredfold and implore you to return to the Niten Ichi Ryū.’
Masamoto bent down on one knee to be level with Yamato.
Jack couldn’t believe it, and by the shocked look on Akiko’s face neither could she. Despite everything that had happened, Masamoto was formally and publicly accepting Yamato. The moment was not lost on the rest of the students and a respectful silence descended upon the hall as they all bowed their respects to Masamoto and Yamato.
Father and son bowed to one another.
‘Bushido is not a journey to be taken lightly,’ he declared, getting to his feet. ‘I told you that the path of the warrior is lifelong and mastery is simply staying the path. Students of the Niten Ichi Ryū – stay the path!’
The Buddha Hall thundered with fervent applause.
41
GION MATSURI
The little boy in the stark white robes and black hat of a Shinto priest raised the short wakizashi sword above his head and brought it down as hard as he could.
In a single stroke, he cut the rope and the Gion Matsuri festival began.
‘This is amazing! I’ve never seen anything like it,’ enthused Jack.
Immense wooden floats, adorned with tapestries and columns of bulbous white lanterns that looked like sails soaring into the sky, passed by in a never-ending procession. Some of the floats were carried upon people’s shoulders, while the largest ones, as big as riverboats and bearing finely dressed, white-faced geisha, were set upon wooden wheels and pulled through the streets.
As the first of these floats approached a street corner, all the men pulling began to chant loudly, ‘Yoi! Yoi! Yoi to sei!’, their rhythm pounded out on large taiko drums on the float’s upper floor. The whole structure began to turn and gradually disappeared round the corner like some huge bejewelled dragon.
‘What’s this festival for?’ shouted Jack over the noise of the celebrations.
‘It’s a purification ritual,’ replied Akiko, who stood close by in a sea-green kimono decorated with brightly coloured chrysanthemums. ‘A plague swept through Kyoto seven hundred years ago and the Matsuri prevents its return.’
‘We had a plague in England too,’ said Jack. ‘They called it the Black Death.’
The crowd around them surged forward as people jostled for the best position to see all the different passing floats. Emi with two of her friends joined Jack, Akiko and Yamato in the throng.
‘How is our victorious samurai today?’ greeted Emi, fluttering a red paper fan against the heat