Chapter 17 : Planting Seeds

'Go home, gaijin! Go home, gaijin! Go home, gaijin!'

Jack sat immobilized by fear in his father's high-backed armchair as

he watched Dragon Eye slash with his sword, scoring the phrase over and

over again on to every wall of his parents' cottage. Like open wounds, the

red letters seeped in crimson streaks, and Jack realized Dragon Eye was

using his father's blood as ink.

Hearing a scuttling sound approach, Jack clasped the rutter closer to

his chest. Glancing down, he was confronted by four black scorpions, each

the size of a fist, crawling their way over the floorboards and up his bare

legs, their poisoned barbs crackling in the darkness…

'Are you coming?'

Jack was jolted awake by Akiko's voice.

He sat up and rubbed his eyes against the bright morning light that

poured in through the tiny window of his room.

'I'm not… quite ready… you go ahead,' replied Jack, his voice shaky

as he pulled back the covers of his futon.

'Are you all right?' she asked from the other side of his shoji door.

'I'm fine… just sleepy.'

But Jack was far from fine. Akiko had woken him from another

nightmare.

'I'll meet you in the Chō-no-ma for breakfast,' he added hurriedly.

'Try not to be late this time,' Akiko cautioned, and Jack heard her soft

footsteps pad along the passageway.

He got up, groggy from his dream of Dragon Eye and the four

scorpions. He wondered whether it could be a premonition like the butterfly

and demon vision. But that vision had been induced by meditation. This

was a nightmare, something darker, more primitive. If it happened again, he

promised himself he would consult Sensei Yamada.

Jack packed away his futon, tucking the rutter carefully inside the

folds of the mattress. It was too obvious a hiding place. He urgently needed

to speak with Emi to arrange a return visit to the castle. The problem was

that he could never get her alone. Her two friends, Cho and Kai, followed

her around like handmaidens. Besides, Jack hadn't yet thought of how to

broach the subject with her without revealing his true purpose.

Hurriedly he put on his training gi, wrapping the upper section round

his body, ensuring the lapel went left over right. He didn't want to dress like

a corpse by having them the other way. He then tied the jacket off with a

white obi round his waist.

Before leaving for breakfast and his first lesson of the day, Jack tended

to his bonsai perched on the narrow window sill. He treasured the tiny

cherry-blossom tree, a parting gift from Uekiya, the gardener in Toba. It

was a constant reminder of the kindness the old man had shown him that

first summer. He watered it religiously, pruned its branches and removed

any dead leaves. The ritual always calmed him, and soon the cruel taunts of

his nightmare faded until they were little more than a whisper in his head.

That morning, several of the bonsai's miniature green leaves showed

tints of golden brown and fiery red, announcing the arrival of autumn. With

only a season left to go before snow heralded the selection trials for the

Circle of Three, the sensei had intensified their training, increasing the

complexity of the techniques and pushing the students to their limits. Jack

was really starting to struggle with the regime.

Securing his bokken in his obi, he summoned up the energy he would

need to get through the day.

'Again, kata four!' ordered Sensei Hosokawa.

The students sliced the air with their bokken, repeating the prescribed

series of moves. They had performed hundreds of cuts already that

morning, but Sensei Hosokawa's lesson was relentless.

Jack's arms were burning with the exertion, sweat poured down him

and his bokken felt as heavy as lead.

'No, Jack-kun!' corrected Sensei Hosokawa. 'The kissaki stops at

chudan. You are slicing through the belly of your enemy – not trying to

chop off their feet.'

Jack, who usually excelled during the sword class, was having great

difficulty keeping up. His aching limbs just wouldn't respond and the

bokken kept dropping way past its target.

'Concentrate!' commanded Sensei Hosokawa, rounding on Jack.

'Don't make me remind you again.'

He grabbed Jack's sword arm, sternly lifting the bokken to the

appropriate height. Jack's arms trembled with the effort.

'These kata are the basics of kenjutsu,' reinforced Sensei Hosokawa,

addressing the entire class now. 'You cannot run before you've learnt to

walk. It is imperative you assimilate these moves so that they become

instinctive, so that the bokken becomes part of you. When the sword

becomes "no sword" in your hands, then you are ready. Only then will you

truly comprehend the Way of the Sword!'

'HAI, SENSEI!' yelled the class.

Sensei Hosokawa fixed Jack with a stern gaze, 'Don't forget your

training, Jack-kun. You should have mastered the basics by now.'

The arrow soared clear of the target, disappearing among the branches of

the ancient pine tree. A pair of doves, nestling in the foliage, cooed

indignantly and fluttered off towards the safety of the Butsuden's temple

roof.

'This is impossible!' complained Jack, his frustration getting the better

of him.

Unlike Akiko, who struck the furthest target with apparent ease,

archery didn't come so naturally to Jack. And now that Sensei Yosa had

doubled the length of the range, setting the targets at the far end of the

Nanzen-niwa, not one of Jack's shots had even come close. If he couldn't

hit a target at this distance, how on earth was he supposed to snuff out a

candle?

To make matters worse, Kazuki and his friends had been trying to put

him off, commenting loudly on each of his failed attempts.

Noticing that Jack was struggling, his kyujutsu teacher approached, her

hawk-like eyes studying his form and noting his problem.

'Relax, Jack-kun,' Sensei Yosa instructed as Jack returned his bow to

the rack and knelt back into line. 'Hitting the target is unimportant.'

'But it is to me,' Jack insisted. 'I want to be able to pass your trial.'

'You misunderstand,' said Sensei Yosa, smiling warmly at his

keenness. 'You must abandon the idea of having to hit the target. When the

archer does not think about the target, then they may unfold the Way of the

Bow.'

Jack's brow creased in confusion. 'But won't I be more likely to miss

if I don't think about it?' he asked.

'There are no mysteries in kyujutsu, Jack-kun,' continued Sensei Yosa,

shaking her head in response. 'Like any art, the secret is revealed through

dedication, hard work and constant practice.'

But I am practising hard, Jack wanted to say, and I don't seem to be

getting any better.

Later that day, Jack's fifth attempt at origami lay in a crumpled heap on the

floor.

The rest of the students were deep in studied concentration, crosslegged on their zabuton cushions within the Buddha Hall. Today their

meditation model was a frog, and all that could be heard was the delicate

crimping of countless pieces of paper.

Sensei Yamada had once again set his class a zazen mediation on

origami, repeating the koan, 'What does origami teach us?' No one as yet

had provided him with a satisfactory answer.

'Watch how I do it, Jack,' Yori offered, turning so that Jack could see

his moves.

Jack tried again, but only succeeded in tearing a hole in the fragile

paper. He cursed out loud in English and Yori gave him a puzzled look.

Jack smiled apologetically.

'How am I going to be able to answer Sensei Yamada's Koan trial if I

can't even fold a paper frog?' said Jack, taking another sheet from the pile.

'I don't think it matters if you can or can't,' replied Yori kindly. 'The

frog is not the focus. Remember what Sensei Yamada said? The answer is

in the paper.'

Yori admired his own perfect frog before setting it on the floor next to

the perfect origami crane, butterfly and goldfish he had already made.

'But surely the process must help,' maintained Jack, waving his flat

square of paper despondently in the air. 'Otherwise why would he be

getting us all to do origami? I seem to be making such slow progress.'

Jack was now very concerned about his chances in the forthcoming

trials. There were only five places and if he didn't pass any of the trials, he

wouldn't earn his place in the Circle of Three, let alone be taught the Two

Heavens technique.

'Don't judge each day by the harvest you reap,' said a calm voice in

his ear.

Sensei Yamada had appeared at Jack's shoulder and leant over to take

the paper from his hands. He scored, folded and bent the sheet in front of

Jack's eyes, transforming it into a beautiful flowering rose.

'Judge it by the seeds you plant.'

'You're having a bad week, that's all,' said Akiko, trying to console Jack

during dinner that evening.

'But I haven't hit the archery targets for nearly a month now,' Jack

replied, half-heartedly spearing a piece of sushi with his hashi before

reminding himself that it was bad etiquette.

'It's just a matter of getting used to the distance,' encouraged Yamato.

'Don't you remember how you scored in kyujutsu during the Taryu-Jiai?

It's not as if you can't do it.'

'I suppose you're right,' conceded Jack, putting down his hashi. 'But it

feels like I've hit a brick wall with my training. Even in kenjutsu Sensei

Hosokawa's constantly on my back, correcting every little mistake.

However hard I try, I don't seem to be getting any better.'

'But you heard what Sensei Yamada said,' reminded Yori. 'Don't judge

each day by the harvest you reap…'

'Yes, but what seeds am I actually planting?' sighed Jack, burying his

head in his hands. 'Perhaps Kazuki's right. I'm not meant to be samurai.'

'You're not listening to Kazuki again, are you?' exclaimed Akiko in

exasperation. 'He's poisoning your mind! Of course you're worthy to be

samurai. Masamoto-sama would not have adopted you, or invited you to his

school if he thought you were anything less. Becoming a true samurai takes

time.'

Jack gazed despondently out of the tiny window of his room in the Shishino-ma. The night sky was a blanket of stars. A waning moon shone its

ghostly light and washed out all colour from the buildings of the Niten Ichi

Ryū.

On the horizon, Jack could see storm clouds brewing. They were

blotting out the stars one by one. The prayer flags at the entrance to the

Butsuden started to flutter like a ship's sails as a chill wind cut through the

open courtyard.

Jack began to imagine he was back on-board the Alexandria with his

father, learning to navigate by the heavens. That was something he was

good at. Being a pilot came naturally. He could name the stars and planets

and use them to calculate the ship's position and course, even in rough seas.

He had been destined to be a ship's pilot by blood and birth. Not a

samurai.

Suddenly Jack felt the pressure of life in Japan like a coiled spring in

the pit of his stomach, getting wound tighter and tighter until he thought he

was going to explode. The headache of speaking Japanese every day. The

rigid etiquette of Japanese life as if he was walking on eggshells all the

time. The painstaking progress he was making with his training. The

constant threat of Dragon Eye and whether he would be ready to face him

in time. The gaping absence of his parents. The thought of Jess alone, with

the threat of a workhouse hanging over her…

Lost in his despair, Jack almost missed the movement of several

shrouded figures crossing the school's courtyard. Hugging the shadows,

they skirted under the lee of the Butokuden before disappearing inside.

Determined to discover who the intruders were this time, Jack grabbed

his katana and sprinted out of the room.