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
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
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