His questions about this Sensei increased with the lesson, because the Sensei started Kaze’s formal instruction in the way of the sword by teaching him how to tie the sash on a kimono.
“In ancient times, we used to hang our swords from our sash with cords,” the Sensei began. “Now it is our custom to place our swords in our kimono sash. You have been wearing swords for ceremonial occasions since you were small. On those occasions the swords were for show. In battle the swords will be for survival. You have to learn to carry them as a samurai. Proudly, but also in a practical manner. You can’t carry them too loosely, or they will slip. You can’t carry them too tightly, or the sash will constrict your wind and cause you annoyance. Today you will learn how to tie the sash of your kimono in a proper fashion. It is a small thing, but from small, fundamental things the foundation for greater things is built. After you learn this lesson, you will observe how other samurai tie their sashes. That observation will teach you if a man is grounded in fundamentals or if he is just displaying his swords in a flashy manner.”
Under the Sensei’s instruction, Kaze tied and retied his kimono sash until he could do it perfectly. He had to admit that carrying the two swords of the samurai tucked into his sash was now more comfortable, but he couldn’t see what this had to do with sword fighting.
“Can I ask a question, Sensei?” Kaze said at the end of the lesson.
“What is it?”
“When will I be taught things that have to do with kendo?”
“Baka! This does have to do with kendo. Everything I teach you has to do with bushido, the way of the warrior. This morning you learned a lesson before breakfast. A bushi must keep fit, even if it’s through something like chopping wood. You should also learn calligraphy, art, and poetry, but a bushi can’t simply occupy his time with artistic pursuits while waiting for the next war. He must do things to stay in good physical condition. At breakfast you were taught another lesson, a famous one, when I threw the piece of wood at you. Bushi must remain alert and expect an attack at any time. Have you ever heard that?”
“Yes, Sensei.” Kaze anticipated another attack from the Sensei. That was what was usually done when students were taught this lesson, and he knew it. The student is told to expect an attack at any time, then he is asked if he understands that. When he says yes, the Sensei launches an immediate attack to illustrate that the lesson is fact.
“Do you understand that?”
“Yes, Sensei!” Kaze readied himself for the launch of some kind of attack, like the flying firewood. Instead, the Sensei merely continued with his lecture. Kaze was almost disappointed.
“In life things will happen to you and you must draw the lessons from them. You will not always have someone there to explain them to you, and you must learn to learn on your own. Do you understand that?”
“Yes, Sensei.”
“Good, then go gather up some of the firewood you chopped this morning so we can make dinner.”
A simple dinner was eaten in almost total silence. After spending a sleepless night and a long day, Kaze could barely keep his eyes open. The dark hut and the flickering fire lulled him to drowsiness as surely as a mother’s lullaby. Kaze was given a futon and a quilt and shown a place to sleep in one of the outbuildings near the Sensei’s hut. “I’ll tell you by tomorrow if I want you for a student,” the Sensei said as he left.
Kaze dropped into a deep, exhausted sleep. The sight of dragon footprints and flittering ghosts and unearthly voices calling for blood entered his dreams. The frightening events of the night before twisted his dreams into a nightmare, and he was certain he could feel the presence of a demon or malignant spirit right in the room with him. Suddenly, a sharp pain across his arm and shoulder jolted him out of sleep.
He sat up confused and bleary-eyed. He looked around and there, sitting next to him, was the Sensei. A clay lamp was by the Sensei, and he held a stick of bamboo. He was looking at Kaze.
Kaze rubbed his shoulder and was about to protest being hit with the stick. Then he shut his mouth. After a moment’s silence, Kaze said, “Be prepared for an attack at any time.”
The Sensei nodded. “Good! Very good! You’re not as thick and stupid as you seem. I’ll take you as a student. Chop some firewood when you wake up, and after breakfast we’ll continue your training.”
Kaze smiled. One of his first lessons was to expect attack at any time, and yet he had still been captured at Jiro’s hut. He expected an attack, but he didn’t think about the nature of the attack. From his circumstances, he knew the attacker must be the local Magistrate. He held the slow, stupid Magistrate in low regard. Yet even stupid men can kill you if you are careless. Kaze hoped that this time he would survive so he could benefit from that lesson in the future.
The sound of footsteps snapped him out of his reverie. He opened his eyes. People were coming.
CHAPTER 9
An apparition
Echoes the sounds of the past.
Past becomes present.
“Sooo yooou caaptuured thaaat samuraiiii.” Kaze couldn’t see the speaker yet, but the voice had the high pitch and long, chanting quality of court nobles. It surprised Kaze to hear it in this rural District where a court noble would not be found, but he had heard enough nobles to know that the accent was an affectation and not something the speaker was raised with.
“Yes, Manase-sama.” The voice of the officious Magistrate.
“Good. Well, let’s see them,” Manase said, using the same singsong inflection.
The two men entered the courtyard. The Magistrate was wearing the same kimono he wore when Kaze first saw him, but Manase’s costume was a surprise. Manase wore a brightly colored kimono with several rich robes. At his sleeves and the hem of the robes, the thick layers of cloth formed a dazzling rainbow that almost illuminated the drab courtyard. On top of Manase’s head was a tall, black-gauze cap, like that of a noble, with a black ribbon coming down around his chin to hold the peaked cap in place. The cut of the robes was old-fashioned, and the District Lord looked like the image on a very old scroll painting stepping off the silk and coming to life.
Manase stopped several feet from the cages. The Magistrate seemed surprised at the District Lord’s abrupt halt, so Manase explained.
“I don’t like to get too near.” He gave an exaggerated sigh. “These types always smell so bad!”
“Yes, yes, my Lord. We can-”
Before the Magistrate could finish, Kaze decided to take a chance. “I am Matsuyama Kaze,” he said in a voice as clear as his painful face would allow. “Although my current circumstances are strange, Lord Manase, I want to repeat my praise for the fragment of Dojoji I saw yesterday. I hope some day to see a complete performance.”
The Magistrate bustled up to Kaze’s cage. “Here, here you. You shut up until you’re spoken to! Daring to address the Lord-”
“Magistrate.”
The Magistrate halted in midsentence and looked at Manase. “Yes, my Lord?”
“Take that man out of that cage and get him a bath and fresh clothes.”
“But my Lord-”
Manase gave a quick, but graceful, flip of his hand. His voice had a tinge of impatience to it. “Do as I order.”
“Of course, of course, my Lord. Fresh clothes and a bath. Right away!”
Manase turned and left the courtyard. The Magistrate also left, but in a few minutes he returned with two guards. They were as badly equipped and loutish as the two guards Kaze had seen at the crossroads. In fact, on closer inspection, they were the guards he had seen at the crossroads.
The Magistrate fumbled in the sleeve of his kimono and came out with a large brass key. It was a rectangular bar of metal with notches filed along one end. He gave the key to a guard, who stuck it in the lock of Kaze’s cage and opened the door.