“Then why tell me?”
“I couldn’t bear to add another lie to the tragedy of your family,” Goshira said. “As I said, there are many who would help you. Your brotherisalive, and he is well. You deserve to know this. But you must keep it secret; you, Kai, you were spared, out of the compassion of the Keishi, once, but now the world is on the brink of change. The monks tell us we enter an age of desolation. The realm is at the edge of a knife. Tread lightly, Kai Gekko’in. The world may shift in this upheaval, and there is no telling what will happen when it all comes crashing down.”
“Thank you.” Kai searched for the words. The ground felt unstable, shifting beneath her feet. “Thank you.”
“Tread lightly,” he said again. “Tread lightly. This is your secret now. Your friends are out there, and they are talking. But I fear greatly, Lady Kai, what the Keishi will do if they were to learn the truth.”
CHAPTERSIXTEEN
Sen
7 Months Later
Shoho Year 4
Late summer
“Be like the birds,” crow monk Taro cried. “Let your body do the work! Fly! Go forward! More! More!”
It was early morning. Wooden swords sang in the humid air as they practiced in the shadow of the trees. Sen bore down for a vertical attack, but the stocky crow monk shifted too fast for him to counter and parried his next three strikes. Taro was the youngest of the monks, vigorous and quick as a river. Sen cursed under his breath. The crow monks were great masters at swordplay – they did not use bows, and instead perfected the art of the small-sword, shorter than those the kijin used.
They taught him speed, how to read his opponent’s mind, to feel the presence of a coming strike before they could make a move. Sen had gotten stronger in the last few months, he knew; quicker, more agile.
“Attack strongly and unhesitatingly,” Jobo called. He often stood and lectured while the crow monks came at Sen, sometimes singly, sometimes all at once. His voice became the backdrop as they sparred. “Even when there are many opponents, let your awareness take over. Face them directly, advance your feet and set your eyes so that you can see all of them at once: you should strike before they have the chance to overwhelm you.
“We use the middle stance because it has balance. Offensive, defensive. From here you can take the center and create opportunities to strike. Remember, swinging your sword too much will never help you; always take the initiative. Never think.”
The Kannagara woods had become the place of his rebirth, Sen often thought, rebirth as a warrior.I will do this, he told himself. He stepped back, chest heaving.
“Fly like birds,” Taro repeated. “Don’t try to strike and win; win, and then strike!”
The middle monk, Zenki, stood lean as a scarecrow and just as tall. “Real movement is when you don’t think or plan what to do, but your body instinctively responds. Speed, elegance, and decisiveness are the most important things.”
“What of strength?”
Sen tried to push forward, but the response from Taro hit him like a physical wave. He buckled, and in that instant Taro struck, bringing the wooden sword to a perfect halt a hair’s-breadth from Sen’s face.
“Strength is an illusion. It exists only in relation to oneself. Are you strong enough to do it? If not, get stronger. Get faster. Understand technique. It doesn’t matter how strong someoneelseis. Only you.”
Jobo’s words floated like riddles in his ears: “What is human but not human? A bird but not a bird? The bird we see is just the form, the truth lies underneath. That is what we search for. That is how you train.”
“Release yourself from the walls of your own mind,” he would say. “Don’t think; for everything is fleeting and nothing is real. It is our minds that bring us suffering, and put it out into the world. It is the world that brings us suffering, and our minds take it into ourselves. Get out of your mind. Find the truth.”
Sen had spent hours practicing his forms and could feel the frustration rising in him now. He took the upper stance, with the long-sword in a raised position, and attacked at Taro’s neck again. Taro turned and cut at Sen’s hand from below, forcing him to pull back with his sword spinning out of center, uncontrolled. Then, before he could return, Taro stepped downwards and cut at his neck, once again stopping less than a hair’s-breadth away. Sen fell back from him, staggering.
“The upper-position is more aggressive,” Jobo lectured, “but it leaves you open to attack. So, it can be dangerous. You must be careful with it.”
“Then what am I supposed to do?” Sen wheezed.
“Keep your eyes as if looking to the distant mountains,” Jobo said, “never any one specific part. See the whole, never let your awareness slip.They will try to pressure you; to meet them is the only way. Step forward, find an opening with your feet. Pressure them so they feel they have no choice but to strike or be cut down. Then, you have the advantage. If you do this, you have defeated them before a single cut is made.”
The crow monks surrounded him. “When spirit is alive,” Taro said, “the opponent’s composure starts to break. They experience astonishment, hesitation, fear. They wonder, are you coming? What will you do? At that moment, they have broken – and you have won. The right mind is very important.”
“How am I supposed to fight you all at once?” Sen asked, gasping.
“In battle, there will be fighting all around you,” Zenki taunted. “Who will stop them from ganging up on you, all at once?”
“Always watch the eyes,” called Jobo. “That is where the mind is. That is where they show their spirit. Don’t look where you’re going to strike. Don’t turn your head. If you look without attachment, you’ll find you can see all parts of the body at once. Master Shinmen said, ‘If you don’t have the true spirit, you’re no better than a drunk.’ Take the initiative, see into your opponent’s mind and it will reflect inside the mirror of your heart; they’ll give you signs of how they’ll strike. You must attack without erring even but a little – as Shinmen said, ‘Nothing in the whole earth could evade such a strike.’
