Young Samurai_ The Way of the Sword - Chris Bradford [9]
But this sword was different. Weightier and more visceral. It had killed people. Sliced them in half. And Jack suddenly sensed its bloody history in his hands.
He was starting to regret his rashness in bringing the sword.
The sensei, noting the visible trembling of Jack’s katana with grim satisfaction, proceeded to remove a single grain of rice from his inro, the small wooden carrying case attached to his obi. He then placed the grain on top of Yamato’s head.
‘Cut it in half,’ he ordered Jack.
‘What?’ blurted Yamato, his eyes wide with shock.
‘But it’s on his head –’ protested Jack.
‘Do it!’ commanded Hosokawa, pointing at the tiny grain of rice.
‘But… but… I can’t…’
‘If you think you’re ready for such responsibility, now is your chance to prove it.’
‘But I could kill Yamato!’ exclaimed Jack.
‘This is what it means to carry a sword. People get killed. Now cut the grain.’
‘I can’t,’ said Jack, lowering his katana.
‘Can’t?’ exclaimed Hosokawa. ‘I command you, as your sensei, to strike at his head and slice that grain in half.’
Sensei Hosokawa grabbed Jack’s hands and brought the sword into direct line with Yamato’s exposed head. The miniscule grain of rice perched there, a white speck among the mass of black hair.
Jack knew that the blade would slice through Yamato’s head as if it were little more than a watermelon. Jack’s arms quivered uncontrollably and Yamato gave him a despairing look, his face completely drained of blood.
‘DO IT NOW!’ commanded Hosokawa, lifting Jack’s arms to force him to strike.
The rest of the students watched with dread fascination.
Akiko looked on fearfully. Beside her, her best friend Kiku, a petite girl with dark shoulder-length hair and hazelnut-coloured eyes, was almost on the point of tears. Kazuki, though, was apparently relishing the moment. He nudged his ally Nobu, a large boy with the build of a mini-Sumo wrestler, and whispered in his ear, loud enough for Jack to hear.
‘I bet you the gaijin chops off Yamato’s ear!’
‘Or maybe his nose!’ chortled Nobu, a fat grin spreading across his podgy face.
The sword wavered in the air. Jack felt all control over the weapon drain from his body.
‘I… I… can’t,’ Jack stammered. ‘I’ll kill him.’
Defeated, he lowered the katana to the floor.
‘Then I’ll do it for you,’ said Sensei Hosokawa.
Yamato, who had let out a sigh of relief, instantly froze.
In the blink of an eye, the sensei withdrew his own sword and cut down on to Yamato’s head. Kiku screamed as the blade buried itself in his hair. Her cry reverberated throughout the Butokuden.
Yamato fell forward, his head dropping to the ground.
Jack saw the tiny grain of rice peel apart and fall in two separate pieces on to the dojo floor.
Yamato remained bowed, trembling like a leaf, trying to regain control of his breathing. Otherwise, he was completely unscathed. The blade had not even grazed his scalp.
Jack stood motionless, overwhelmed at Sensei Hosokawa’s skill. What a fool he had been to question his sensei’s judgement. Now he understood the responsibility that came with a sword. The choice of life over death was truly in his hands. This was no game.
‘Until you have complete control,’ said Sensei Hosokawa, fixing Jack with a stern look as he resheathed his katana, ‘you don’t have the skill to warrant carrying a real blade. You’re not ready for the Way of the Sword.’
5
CIRCLE OF THREE
‘YOUNG SAMURAI!’ thundered Masamoto down the length of the Chō-no-ma, the ceremonial dining hall that earned its name from the lavishly decorated panelled walls of painted butterflies.
The students, who were kneeling in regimented rows, stiffened and prepared for Masamoto’s opening address. Jack, his legs already becoming numb from being in the seiza posture, shifted himself in order to get a better view of the proceedings. Masamoto sat in his usual place, raised upon a dais behind a low table of black-lacquered cedar. The table was laid with cups of steaming sencha, the bitter green tea the samurai enjoyed.
Masamoto took a measured sip from