Young Samurai: The Way of Fire (short story) Page 2

  After lunch the students gathered in the meditation garden of the shukubo for a lesson in hojojutsu. Jack was intrigued. He had learnt many things since training in the Way of the Warrior, but he’d never imagined there was a martial art devoted to the techniques of rope restraint.

  Sensei Kyuzo appeared, bearing several lengths of white cord. He indicated for the class to kneel and the students formed two neat rows on a flattened area of grass beside a small fishpond. In its waters swam an array of multicoloured koi carp that made the pond’s surface shimmer like a moving rainbow.

  ‘To control aggression without inflicting injury is the art of peace,’ began Sensei Kyuzo. ‘Hojojutsu is the essence of this philosophy. The techniques that I’ll demonstrate are useful for securing a saddle, tethering a horse and even hanging up your armour, but the art is primarily used for restraining a prisoner.’

  He unwound one of the shorter lengths of cord.

  ‘This is a hayanawa,’ he explained. ‘It’s a short rope with a small loop on one end and is used for fast restraint. If you don’t have one of these to hand, you can always use the sageo attached to your sword’s saya.’ Sensei Kyuzo indicated the braided cord hanging from the wooden scabbard on his hip. He then beckoned his favourite student, Kazuki, to join him.

  ‘There are four rules of hojojutsu. One, your prisoner mustn’t be able to slip his bonds. Two, you shouldn’t cause any physical injury. Three, never allow anyone else to see these techniques, otherwise they could work out ways to overcome them. Lastly, the result should always look neat and elegant.’

  Jack tried to suppress a grin. It was so typically Japanese to demand that something as practical as tying up an enemy must still appear beautiful to the eye.

  ‘First I’m going to demonstrate the diamond wrapping technique.’

  Sensei Kyuzo doubled the rope and placed the halfway point at Kazuki’s Adam’s apple. He then wrapped the free ends round the boy’s back, crossing one over the other, and wound Kazuki’s upper arms tight to his sides. He brought the two ends together, before wrapping the cords round Kazuki’s wrists behind his back and securing them with a couple of twists. A final tug pulled taut the whole diamond-shaped girdle.

  Within a matter of seconds Kazuki had been bound and immobilized.

  ‘He’s trussed up like a pheasant ready for cooking,’ whispered Saburo to Jack, stifling a giggle.

  Kazuki must have heard them because he glared in their direction, struggling against his bonds to free himself. But it was futile; the restraints didn’t give at all.

  Sensei Kyuzo released his protégé then handed out hayanawa among the class. Jack was partnered with Akiko. He took the rope and with several deft twists he had Akiko bound and unable to move. Jack glanced around. Everyone else was still struggling with the diamond technique.

  ‘How did you do that so fast?’ exclaimed Yamato, who had got no further than crossing the hayanawa behind Saburo’s back.

  Jack shrugged. ‘Every day on-board ship I had to coil ropes, tie off sheets, reef sails and bind cargo to the decks. Even after a year in Japan, working with ropes still comes naturally.’

  ‘Can you show me how you did it?’ Yamato asked.

  ‘After you’ve let me go!’ reminded Akiko as Jack went to help Yamato.

  Jack smiled apologetically then released her. The three of them gathered round Saburo. Taking the ends of the cord from Yamato, Jack slowly repeated the sequence of wraps. However, Saburo proved too big for the short length of hayanawa. The cord only just reached round his wrists, so Jack quickly tied off the diamond wrapping with a sailor’s knot.

  ‘WHAT ARE YOU DOING?’ exclaimed Sensei Kyuzo.

  Jack spun round to face the irate sensei.

  ‘The rope wasn’t long enough … to finish the technique,’ spluttered Jack, ‘so I tied it off.’

  ‘Did you see me use any knots?’

  ‘No, Sensei, but –’

  ‘No buts!’ interjected Sensei Kyuzo, pushing him aside and pulling out the knot.

  ‘I don’t mind, Sensei,’ said Saburo quickly.

  ‘You should do. Binding a person is a very serious matter. It’s shameful for a samurai to be tied up. Some consider it worse than death. That’s why we use wrappings, never knots!’

  ‘But won’t the prisoner escape?’ asked Jack, shaking his head in despair. He could never keep up with all the strict social rules of living in Japan.

  ‘Not if you wrap them properly,’ snapped the sensei.

  He grabbed Jack and spun him round. A moment later he had Jack’s hands bound behind his back.

  ‘If you think you’re so clever, get out of that.’

  ‘But, Sensei, he can still run away,’ observed Saburo.

  Snorting his disgust, Sensei Kyuzo knocked the back of Jack’s knees, causing him to fall to the ground. Several quick rope turns later, Jack’s legs were restrained too.

  ‘Now he can’t move, can he?’

  ‘With respect, Sensei, I disagree,’ Saburo insisted.

  ‘What?’ spat Sensei Kyuzo, enraged at the suggestion.

  ‘He can still move his mouth.’

  ‘I can’t believe you said that to Sensei Kyuzo!’ exclaimed Yamato over dinner that evening in the main hall of the shukubo.

  They all sat cross-legged in rows as the monks served them their food.

  ‘He was picking on Jack,’ Saburo replied through a mouthful of tempura. ‘So what if Jack tied me up with a knot? He didn’t know it was dishonourable.’

  ‘Thanks for your understanding,’ said Jack, rubbing at the rope burns he’d sustained when Sensei Kyuzo had whipped off the cord in annoyance at Saburo’s retort.

  Jack reached for his chopsticks and gazed at the wonderful feast before them. It was their final night in Koya-san and this was their reward for getting to the end of the gasshuku. There was tempura, miso soup, sweet-and-sour seaweeds, wild potatoes and numerous other dishes Jack didn’t recognize. Akiko had explained that this meal was called shojin-ryori. It was the traditional vegetarian food prepared by the Koya-san temples, the secret recipes having been passed down from monk to monk for over seven hundred years.

  ‘Try the goma tofu. It’s delicious,’ Akiko suggested.

  Jack used his chopsticks to pick up a soft pinkish cube. He dipped it in the soy sauce before dropping the delicacy into his mouth. The goma tofu melted on Jack’s tongue. It was deliciously rich, almost sweet with a strong sesame after-taste. He grinned at Akiko in appreciation.

  ‘YOUNG SAMURAI!’ proclaimed Sensei Hosokawa from the head table at the far end of the room. They all stopped eating. ‘The last day of the gasshuku is always a time to celebrate. But tonight you must face one more challenge.’

  There was a weary groan from the exhausted students. Sensei Hosokawa held up his hand for silence.

  ‘Prepare yourselves for the Way of Fire.’

  The Way of Fire

  The fifteen students, led by Sensei Yamada, left the dining hall of the shukubo, crossed a curved wooden bridge and entered the forest.

  It was now twilight and the last rays of the fading sun glimmered between the branches of the cedar trees. An eerie evening mist drifted through the undergrowth and the darkening forest took on a haunted air.

  Jack’s sense of unease only increased when he spied row upon row of moss-covered tombs. They lined the path on either side like giant bulbous mushrooms, the headstones seeming to stretch on and on into the depths of the woodland.

  ‘Whose are those?’ Jack whispered uneasily.

  ‘We’ve entered the cemetery of Okunoin Temple,’ Sensei Yamada replied under his breath. ‘They are the graves of samurai warriors and lords who’ve died for Japan.’

  ‘But there are thousands!’

  Sensei Yamada simply nodded his head.

  Jack glanced around. With so many lost souls in one place, he swore he could imagine the cries of battle echoing around him. Up ahead, a soft orange glow seeped through the mist.

  ‘Is th
at the Way of Fire?’ asked Jack.

  ‘No, this is Torodo, the Hall of Lanterns,’ explained Sensei Yamada as they emerged into a glade dominated by a large wooden temple. ‘It is the holiest place in Koya-san.’

  The four double doors set into the building were wide open, bathing the students in a fiery flood of light. Stepping inside, they gazed around in silent awe. The walls and ceiling of the temple were aglow with muted lanterns like the embers of a thousand dying suns. Not a single space was left unfilled by the strange brass lamps, their saffron-coloured flames combining with trails of incense smoke to create a magical, unearthly world.

  Kneeling before a wooden effigy of the Buddha, monks in sand-coloured robes chanted softly, their murmur of prayer endlessly repeating.

  ‘What is this place?’ breathed Jack.

  ‘This temple houses the tomb of Kobo Daishi, the great teacher of Buddhism,’ Sensei Yamada explained, bowing his head to the main shrine. ‘It is believed he is not dead but simply meditating, awaiting the arrival of Miroku, our future Buddha. That is why there are so many samurai and daimyo buried here. They await his reawakening.’

  ‘And the lanterns?’

  ‘Upon each is engraved a name of the deceased. The sacred flames are kept alight to honour their memories. Some have been burning for over five hundred years.’

  ‘Is this the Way of Fire then?’ enquired Akiko, whose long dark hair glistened in the golden glow of the lanterns.

  ‘No,’ replied Sensei Yamada, picking up a lighted candle from a nearby shrine and leading them out through a side door.

  The students exchanged confused looks and were even more baffled when Sensei Yamada brought them to the clearing with the swamp and wood pile. As they approached the marshy waters, Jack could see Emi raising her hand to protest against entering the swamp again. But Sensei Yamada stopped short and asked them to sit and put aside their wooden bokken.

  ‘The Way of Fire is an ancient ritual of purification,’ he began, holding the candle before him. ‘It is a means of burning away attachments and evil, of letting go of the things that hinder you on the path to enlightenment.’

  Sensei Yamada placed the palm of his hand immediately above the flame and began to chant:

  ‘Om gate gate paragate parasamgate bodhi svaha …’

  ‘What’s he saying?’ whispered Jack to Emi.

  ‘It’s the mantra from the Heart Sutra, the best known of the Buddhist scriptures,’ Emi replied, watching with growing amazement as Sensei Yamada continued to hold his palm to the flame. ‘It explains the fundamental emptiness of human existence.’

  ‘Precisely,’ interrupted Sensei Yamada, his hand remaining in place. ‘The Heart Sutra teaches that “Form is emptiness. Emptiness is form. In emptiness there is no form nor feeling, nor perception, nor impulse, nor consciousness …” And so it follows, by emptying your mind, you empty your body of all sensation, all pain and all suffering.’

  Sensei Yamada lifted his hand from the flame and displayed his uninjured palm for all to see.

  ‘I trust that none of you’ve been neglecting your meditation practice while on this gasshuku?’ he chided.

  The students all shook their heads. Jack meditated regularly in the mornings now. He’d been introduced to the concept during Sensei Yamada’s Zen class. And, though he’d been sceptical at first, he’d soon discovered it helped him focus for the day ahead.

  ‘Good. Then I ask each of you to empty your minds and to hold out your hands.’

  The students did as they were told, half closing their eyes and taking a deep breath to begin the meditation process. Sensei Yamada gave them a few moments then slowly worked his way down the line, holding the lighted candle beneath each of their outstretched hands.

  When he came to Jack, he brought the flame so close the tip of it actually licked his skin. Jack, his mind calmed, was surprised to feel no more than a cool tingling sensation. Taken aback by the experience, he briefly lost his concentration and the heat rapidly rose. But before it did any damage, Sensei Yamada had moved on.

  ‘Ow!’ cried Saburo, sucking his palm where the flame had singed his flesh.

  Sensei Yamada raised one eyebrow, but offered no sympathy. ‘You clearly haven’t been practising your meditation exercises,’ he observed.

  Sensei Yamada moved on to the final student, Kazuki, who was so confident in his own abilities that he lowered his hand into the flame itself.

  ‘So have I passed the final test?’ asked Kazuki, a smug grin on his face.

  Sensei Yamada shook his head, the mischievous twinkle back in his eyes.

  ‘This isn’t the Way of Fire. This is merely a spark before the blaze,’ he said, tossing the burning candle on to the huge stack of wood behind him. ‘That is the Way of Fire.’

  There was a sharp crackle and, a moment later, the enormous woodpile burst into flames. The air became filled with the spicy aroma of cedar resin and the acrid sting of wood smoke. The forest shimmered red, the blaze becoming so intense that the students were driven back by the heat.

  ‘So who will be first?’ shouted Sensei Yamada over the roar of the flames, indicating for one of them to enter the hellish furnace.

  Everyone took a further step back. All bar Jack, who stood staring at the fire in disbelief. He had experienced some punishing tasks as part of his training to become a samurai warrior, but this was suicidal.

  ‘Jack-kun,’ said Sensei Yamada, smiling broadly. ‘I would have expected nothing less of you.’

  Jack, glancing over his shoulder, saw all the other students standing behind him in a line. He alone stood out in front, appearing to have stepped up to the challenge. ‘But I didn’t move …’

  Sensei Yamada ignored the protest and beckoned him closer.

  Jack had no choice. He couldn’t back out now. He would lose face among his classmates. Kazuki, in particular, would delight in telling everyone at the Niten Ichi Ryū how the gaijin had been too much of a coward to enter the Way of Fire.

  Jack reluctantly approached the raging inferno, the intense heat scorching his skin.

  A moth, drawn by the flames, fluttered in front of Jack’s face before flying straight into the fire.

  The little insect was snuffed out in an instant.

  A Final Test

  ‘This is a matter of faith and entrusting your body to the fire,’ explained Sensei Yamada, having completed the prescribed rituals.

  The Zen master had sprinkled the ground with salt to consecrate the clearing. He’d then parted the bonfire with a long stick to create a flattened, flaming walkway. Finally he had blessed Jack, wafting the curling smoke around him and rubbing it into Jack’s body.

  Sensei Yamada gave a nod of his head to indicate all was ready and the students began to chant the Heart Sutra. Jack turned to face the final challenge.

  He was still several paces away, but a scalding sheen of sweat prickled on his skin. His heart thumped within his chest, his mouth was dry with fear. The candle test may have proved the act of meditation could overcome physical heat, but this was no candle. It was a huge flaming pyre. He was going to be roasted alive.

  Taking a deep breath, he choked on the smoky air. Desperately he tried to calm his mind, emptying it of all thoughts. Sensei Yamada waited patiently at the other end of the flaming path. Jack focused his eyes on the old monk’s wrinkled face.

  He stepped closer, passing through a patch of salt to purify his feet before entering the fire. The circling words of the students’ mantra thrummed in his ears, while the crackle and pop of wood receded into the background.

  Jack kept walking, his body cloaked in a swirl of flames, his eyes never leaving his sensei’s face. He had no idea how far he’d gone as time seemed to melt away to nothing.

  Suddenly Jack stumbled on a branch. He caught himself, but lost eye contact with Sensei Yamada. His concentration broken, Jack glanced down at his bare feet. The coals upon which he stood glowed a fierce red. He could now feel the blistering heat pressing all around
him. His throat dried to dust and his lungs burned as he gasped in the scorching air. He thought he could smell the flesh searing on the soles of his feet, a sharp brilliant pain intensifying …

  ‘JACK-KUN!’ shouted Sensei Yamada above the roaring blaze.

  Jack looked up, locking eyes with his sensei. He could feel the panic rising in his chest like a ball of flame. The smell of smouldering hair filled his nostrils. He was going to burn to death.

  ‘Focus on where you want to go, not on what you fear.’

  His teacher’s gaze was so intense that Jack felt his mind being drawn back to its meditative state. Jack fought his fear and grappled for control of his senses. With the help of Sensei Yamada, his mind quickly emptied of sensation and the fire lost its ferocity. Jack then resumed his steady pace through the furnace, the flames fanning him but not singeing his skin.

  Exiting the blaze, Jack felt his feet come to rest upon a cool green mat of wet cedar branches. He breathed an immense sigh of relief.

  He had walked the Way of Fire.

  ‘Slow down!’ pleaded Saburo, who hobbled several paces behind Jack, Akiko and Yamato as the class wound its way through the moonlit cemetery back to their shukubo.

  Like true samurai, everyone had attempted the Way of Fire, but not all had made it unscathed. A few were suffering bad blisters on the soles of their feet.

  ‘That’ll teach you to forget your meditation exercises!’ replied Yamato, shaking his head.

  ‘I’m just glad it’s the end of the gasshuku,’ Saburo groaned, grimacing with each painful step.

  ‘I don’t think it’s over yet,’ Emi interrupted, glancing back over her shoulder. ‘There’s still tomorrow and I heard the sensei talking about one more final test.’

  ‘But surely the Way of Fire was more than enough to prove our courage as samurai?’ said Jack.

  Akiko suddenly stopped in her tracks. ‘Quiet! Something’s not right,’ she whispered, her eyes darting around the shadowy forest.