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seven_samchamChapter 24
In Zen there is a saying, ‘Beat the grass and scare up the snake.’ Just as you beat the grass to scare up the snake that lies within, there is a technique of surprising your opponent to cause his mind to become agitated. Deception is doing something unexpected by your opponent, and surprising him. This is the martial arts.
Once surprised, your opponents mind will be taken, and his skill undone. Raising your fan or hand in front of him will also take your opponent’s mind. Tossing aside the sword you are carrying is also a martial art. If you have obtained the skill of No-Sword, what will a sword be to you?
- From The Life-Giving Sword: Secret Teachings from the House of the Shogun, by Yagyu Munenori, translated by William Scott Wilson, Kodansha International, 2003.
Fuu ran as fast as she could, followed by a horde of strange creatures with long beaked noses, red faces, and wings, on an otherwise human body.
“We are tengu. We understand the martial arts and want to tell you something about it,” one of them called out to her.
Fuu decided to stop. After all, the tengu could not really harm her. This was only a dream state, and all she had to do if she got too scared was to simply wake up.
So she stopped, turned around, and asked, “What do you know of the martial arts?”
There were cackles of laughter, hooting sounds, as the tengu swarmed around her, and then broke into a dance. “What do you know of the martial arts, what do you know of the martial arts,” they chanted, mimicking her tone and mannerisms, as one of them broke away from the group and morphed into a human form.
“Shishou?!” exclaimed Fuu.
Shishou answered, in the tengu’s voice, “Silly girl, we are the ones who taught the secret principles of the sword to the legendary Minamoto Yoshitsune at Mt. Kurama. He later met the notorious bandit Kumasaka and his group of evil brigands, and single-handedly defeated them.”[1]
The tengu morphed back to his original form and waved his hauchiwa, a magical fan made of feathers, at Fuu. The hauchiwa produced a strong gust of wind, almost blowing her away, before the landscape suddenly changed, and she was at the Tsutsujigasaki ruins in her martial arts uniform of blue gi and black hakama, with a jo in her hand, held in the horizontal ‘tsune’ or ready position, with the jo held at the right side of the body, right hand holding the centre. The horde of tengu were still surrounding her, now carrying swords, moving around her in a circle chanting, “Show us what you’ve got! Show us what you’ve got!”
One of the tengu faced her in hasso kamae – the sword pointing upright with the hilt positioned above the right shoulder close to the tengu’s ear. “Hajime – lets begin,” he said.
A stern feminine voice spoke from behind her. It was the voice of Ayako-basan.
“Fuu-chan you must not practise the martial arts – I don’t want to see you covered in bruises at the time of your miai.”
She turned around in the direction of the voice and found a gentle, pale pair of hands placed on her shoulders. She looked up to find Jin smiling down at her.
“Don’t worry, Fuu-chan, I won’t let anyone displace even a single hair on your head,” he said, as he kissed her on her forehead.
One of the tengu morphed into Mugen and remarked, “He’s just trying to get inside your kimono.”
Three more tengu morphed into female human form. Two of these Fuu recognized as Otane and Akemi, while the third was a beautiful woman dressed in a strange costume.
“I am Yatsuha,” the beautiful woman said, waving an incense stick around Akemi’s head. “This is Toshitsugu’s incense, the best incense in town!”
Akemi inhaled the smoke from the incense stick. She turned pale, and began vomiting before turning into a kitsune. Otane looked at Fuu as she remarked, “Be careful of the woman with perfume.”
The tengu were in battle formation now, some of them carrying the Furin Kazan banner, others in full battle armour, mounted on horses, carrying weapons of various types. They were facing Jin, Mugen, and Hideo-jisan, who had formed a protective semi-circle around Fuu.
“Attack!” yelled one of the tengu generals, as the horde charged towards them with cries of “Banzai!”[2]
Jin, Mugen, and Hideo fought valiantly, but it was an increasingly difficult task as the tengu came in large numbers, quickly replacing the ones that had been cut down. Fuu wanted to help them, but was frozen to the spot, unable to move her hands or feet.
“Now would be the time to wake up,” she said to herself.
She woke up in a cold sweat, around the first half of the Hour of the Tiger. It was time to get ready.
--
In her daydreams, Fuu had enjoyed several conversations with Jin on the martial arts in general, and the techniques of the sword in particular. Ever since she had started training in jojutsu she had several daydreams of this kind, but had never expected to engage in a real conversation with Jin on such topics. There was, for one, no reason to think that she would ever meet Jin again. And when she did meet him again, unexpectedly, after three years, her shyness and diffidence about her abilities had prevented it. How could a novice converse with a master swordsman as an equal? It was somehow inappropriate – something that people just didn’t do.
But in her daydreams she gave free reign to her imagination. Not only could she debate the finer points of various techniques in kenjutsu and jojutsu, she could talk about the psychological, philosophical, and spiritual aspects of various martial arts. Of course, she did not restrict herself solely to conversations; she often conjured up imaginary situations in which she fought by his side. There were even some situations in which she saved his life.
There were also some less childlike and more romantic aspects to these fantasies but they are not relevant here. Suffice it to say that her imaginary conversations with Jin were a source of strength, something she could draw on in times of crisis. The present moment was certainly one of these times, as she was on her way to fight a duel with the deadliest assassin in Japan.
“Was there a strategic reason behind the choice of the Tstsujigasaki Yakata as the location for this duel?”
“I don’t know, Jin. I think it was a pretty random choice – it was the first place that came into my head.”
“Perhaps you thought that there was some benefit to having a duel so very close to the Kofu castle. Guards from the castle could be patrolling the area, in which case they could prevent the duel from taking place.”
“Assuming that the order to assassinate me came from the bakufu, it is extremely unlikely that guards from the Kofu castle would want to prevent this duel.”
She was almost halfway there, Fuu estimated. She had been to the Tsutsujigasaki ruins with Jin and Mugen, on their way back from Hachiemon-san’s place, the day they had attended the Ko-Kwai at the Furin Kazan Inn. It had taken about forty minutes to walk from the Tsutsujigasaki ruins to the Sekisuiji Onsen Inn. Given that she had been walking for about twenty minutes, it was logical to assume she had covered about half of the distance in question.
Her pulse started to quicken as she drew closer to her destination. She clenched the jo tightly but couldn’t prevent her hands from shaking. Her fingers and palms were cold, and yet sweat poured from them. She wondered about the martial artists who undertook the rite of musha shugyo and travelled around Japan to test their skills against martial artists of renown by challenging them to a duel. Why would one choose something like this as a way of life?[3]
“Perhaps they are just following the Way.”
“If you say so.”
“You are sceptical?”
“I suppose it is noble to be prepared to sacrifice your life for the sake of learning. But learning itself is not the Way.”
“Yes, but it is the path to enlightenment. When you have perfected things you reach a stage when you ‘forget learning’. This is the sense in which you find the Way.”
“At the present moment, the Way be damned! I just want to go home.”
--
Sometime towards the end of the Hour of the Tiger the ‘piece of paper wrapped around a stone’ was thrown into Jin and Mugen’s room, just as Yatsuha had promised. But by the time Mugen stepped on to the balcony the shinobi who had delivered the message had vanished.
The message did not contain much information – only a cryptic remark to the effect that Inuyama had arranged a duel around the Hour of the Hare, and that his opponent was rumoured to be a very young woman. It did not name the location, or explicitly state that the young woman in question was Fuu, but it was enough to send a chill down the spines of Jin and Mugen.
“I’ll go and check if she is in her room,” said Mugen.
“Yes, and wake up Hideo-san if she isn’t.”
Jin was surprised at how calm his voice had sounded. He had, in fact, been shaken to the core; the mixture of fear and dread he felt was of an intensity he hadn’t previously experienced.
It was confirmed that Fuu wasn’t in her room, or anywhere else in the inn’s compound. Her martial arts uniform was missing, and she had also taken a jo and wakizashi (short sword) with her. Ayako and Hideo, who were now in Jin and Mugen’s room, looked extremely worried, with Ayako close to tears. “What shall we do? We don’t even know where the duel is taking place,” she sobbed.
There was a strange chirping sound as something flew into the room. Mugen drew his sword immediately and was about to slice the object, but his sword was blocked just in time by Jin’s katana.
Jin, Hideo and Ayako simultaneously exclaimed, “Momo-san?!”
The squirrel hopped on to Jin’s shoulder and chirped at him. It jumped back and forth between the piece of paper with Yatsuha’s message and Jin’s right shoulder.
“I think it is trying to tell us something,” said Mugen.
“Could it really be Momo-san?” asked Ayako. “Fuu had left Momo-san in a forest near Edo a long time ago.”
“It certainly looks like Momo-san,” said Hideo.
Momo-san now sat on Jin’s shoulder and chirped incessantly. “It wants us to follow him,” said Jin standing up decisively. He was already fully dressed with his daisho neatly tucked in his obi.
“How do you know that?” asked Mugen.
“It had guided us on a couple of occasions during our trip to Nagasaki.”
“So we just follow a squirrel?”
“Yes.” Jin looked like he wasn’t in the mood to argue. He had already stepped outside the room and was making his way out of the inn.
--
Fuu crossed the bridge across the old moat surrounding the Tsutsujigasaki mansion, and stood at the dilapidated entrance of the once glorious stronghold of the Takeda clan. This was where Inuyama had agreed to meet her. But as she surveyed her surroundings, which consisted of an open space surrounded by trees and old buildings, there was no sign of Inuyama.
“He is late. Is that some sort of strategy, Jin? Like the one Musashi used in his duels? According to the stories I have heard, he deliberately arrived late for several of his duels.”
“I am not sure Fuu, but don’t let it affect you.”
About fifteen minutes later Inuyama appeared. With the jo in the near-horizontal ‘tsune’ position, Fuu faced him with a fierce and unflinching stare. Inuyama, in contrast, looked at her in his usual mild-mannered, almost grandfatherly way.
“I’ll make it quick, ojo-chan (little girl). Please remember this is just a job for me. I don’t have anything personal against you.”
“Well then, get on with it! Let me see the skill of the most dangerous assassin in Japan.”
Fuu spoke with a confidence she did not feel. She was surprised that her voice sounded so steady and calm, as if it belonged to another person.
“Well spoken, my dear. Let’s begin.”
Inuyama walked towards her with the sword in hasso kamae, blade upright and cutting-edge facing the opponent, in this case Fuu, ready to strike when in cutting range.
Fuu found her heartbeat accelerate further as she walked towards him. Feeling the instinctive and urgent need to put some distance between herself and Inuyama, she thrust the jo forward with the right hand, and then using both hands speared Inuyama in his solar plexus. Inuyama had anticipated correctly but not fast enough; the impact of Fuu’s strike was effective in halting him and making him feel slightly winded.
But the fact that Fuu had been able to complete an attacking move with relative success was something that had to have a psychological impact. There was a flicker of uncertainty Fuu was able to discern in those half-closed eyes, even though it was there only for a fraction of a second.
“Ah, you are better than I thought,” he said, and resumed moving towards her in an unperturbed manner.
“Once you have unsettled your opponent, it is important to drive home your advantage. If you miss the opportunity of attack at such vulnerable moments, your opponent will recover and counterattack. This is the teaching of famous swordsmen such as Musashi.”
“Yes, it is all very well to say that Jin, but right now I am frightened out of my wits. I know that I should have made another strike in that moment he was thrown slightly off balance. But what do I do now?”
“Don’t think too much. Be spontaneous. Remember what your Shishou said about ‘returning the mind’.”
“I remember. He was quoting Yagyu Munenori, who said ‘if you strike with your sword and think “I’ve struck!” the mind that thinks “I’ve struck!” will stop right there, just as it is. Because your mind does not return from the place you struck, you will be distracted, struck by the second blow of your opponent, and your initiative will be brought to nothing. With your opponent’s second blow you will be defeated.’”
“Yes, and to quote him further: ‘Returning the mind means the following: if you have struck a blow, do not leave your mind in the place you struck. Rather, after you have made your strike, turn your mind back and observe your opponent.’”[4]
Inuyama lifted his sword to make a cut. Fuu dodged, and placing her left hand at the end of the jo that was facing forward, pivoted the jo to make a strike with the opposite end, aiming at Inuyama’s left temple.
Again, she executed the technique perfectly, but Inuyama had anticipated well. The jo barely grazed his temple.
“I should have moved faster.”
“Don’t let the mind stop, Fuu.”
“A hard and decisive version of that strike might have knocked him out. But how does one deliberately hit a human being – an old man at that?”
“Don’t think about those things. He wants to kill you. The natural response is to defend – it is the spontaneous and correct action.”
Inuyama and Fuu circled each other, Fuu warding him off with the jo, not allowing him to enter within cutting range. He tried to manoeuvre her into disadvantageous terrain – towards the wooded end of the open space – so she would not have the room to ward off his attacks. But she saw through his moves and managed to keep him at bay.
“Ojo-chan, why don’t you try irimi?” Inuyama goaded her. “Didn’t they teach you how to do irimi at your dojo? Or are you scared?”
Irimi, as Fuu knew only too well, involved ‘entering’ very close to the body of the opponent, preferably at a blind spot, and making a strike. If executed correctly, the opponent in such a situation could cut you only by stepping back to make the right distance for a cut, thereby being in a position of disadvantage. However, in order to enter into such a position, you would have to cross the cutting range – and if your opponent anticipated your move correctly he would cut you down before you reached a position of advantage.
For the time being, however, she had no intention of being goaded into making a potentially fatal mistake. If she chose to do irimi, it would be at a time she felt that it was the natural and spontaneous move to make. So she replied, “You are the one who is trying to kill me, so you find a way to do that. I am not here to make things easy for you. Don’t you have enough skill?”
“You speak bravely – for a woman. It certainly has been fun playing this game with you. But now I am going to end this.”
Saying this, Inuyama made a lightning-fast approach, one which Fuu didn’t anticipate on time, placing her within cutting range of his sword. Her blood froze as she saw him start the execution of an equally fast, vicious cut at the kessa-giri angle, aiming to slice her from the left side of her temple, across to the right hip.
To her relief she was able to respond just in time to prevent the cut. It was by means of a crude and clumsy variation of a move she had practised many times in the dojo, but it was effective. She had managed to ‘catch’ Inuyama’s left wrist with the jo, preventing the forward movement of his sword. Since the momentum of his cutting arm had been quite substantial, she might have even broken his wrist had she made her move sooner and more decisively.
This time, she did not stop to think what might have been the case had she executed the technique more effectively. Instead she completed her move by throwing Inuyama’s wrist back with the assistance of the jo, guiding the sword away from her body.
Inuyama recovered quickly, however, and his next move came even faster, cutting her left forearm at a critical moment, when she had just been in the midst of preparing to counter strike. The cut was a minor one, but unsettling enough to cause her to lose control of the jo. To her horror, she had dropped the jo, and was now only left with her wakizashi. Before she could draw it, Inuyama attempted to press home his advantage by thrusting his sword towards her abdomen.
She had anticipated his move, stepped back, but not quickly enough to move entirely out of range of Inuyama’s sword-thrust. The tip of his sword had pierced her abdomen, even though Inuyama was in an awkward position to complete the thrust.
The intense and searing nature of the pain had stunned her, but she had the presence of mind to recognize that she could not allow Inuyama to complete the thrust. The obvious action in such cases would be to move forward and drive the sword in deeper. One would then twist and draw it out in a manner that maximised the damage to the opponent’s internal organs, leaving no chance of survival.
Inuyama, Fuu reasoned, was a seasoned assassin who would have no qualms about taking such action. So she immediately stepped back, while simultaneously pushing the sword out of her abdomen using both her hands, carefully avoiding the cutting edge. The act of removing the blade further magnified the shaft of scorching pain running through her belly, almost immobilizing her, but she forced herself to move further back, putting a greater distance between herself and Inuyama.
“Is this why people committing seppuku ask for a kaishaku? I can understand it now – the pain is almost unbearable. Someone acting as a second ends the agony by severing the person’s head.”
“The battle is not over Fuu, maintain ‘zanshin’.”
Zanshin – literally ‘the remaining mind’, was a phrase Fuu had heard many times in the dojo. By way of an explanation her sensei had often quoted the samurai saying “when the battle is over, tighten your chin strap”. Maintaining ‘zanshin’ was essentially equivalent to maintaining a state of alertness or readiness for battle at all times – even when the ‘battle’ had seemingly come to an end.
How did one maintain ‘zanshin’ in such a situation? Even the act of breathing was painful. The central shaft of pain emanating in her abdomen sent out smaller tendrils of pain that enveloped her body, acting like restraining forces that prevented her from moving. She knew she was about to faint – the symptoms were obvious. The metallic, sickly-sweet smell of blood oozing from her wound heightened the feeling of nausea, and her surroundings were rapidly fading out, creating the illusion of being surrounded by a fog.
But she wasn’t ready to die just yet. So she forced herself to take deep, slow, breaths, even though it increased the intensity of the pain. She also kept a close watch on Inuyama, who strangely enough hadn’t made a move to finish the kill.
“My offer of acting as kaishaku still stands,” he said. “You can still choose to die like the daughter of a samurai.”
His voice sounded hollow and faraway, just as hers did as she replied, “I would never give an evil man like you the honour of being my kaishaku.”
Interestingly, the tone of her voice had sounded similar to what she had used when she had acted as a dice roller, in one of her many adventures with Jin and Mugen. It had been calm, confident, and authoritative.[5]
“That is a good sign, isn’t it? Hideo-jisan, when I demonstrated my dice rolling skills before him, remarked that I do it with ‘no mind’.”
“Yes, but maintain your focus. Maintain zanshin – he may attack any moment now.”
“What is the point? I am going to die anyway.”
“Do not think about death - it will make your mind stop. You will not be able to respond appropriately if that is the case. Try to block out the pain by focussing on your opponent and your battle with him. It isn’t over yet.”
Fuu stepped in the direction of where her jo had fallen, with a deliberately exaggerated stagger. She moved within cutting range, presenting herself as an obvious target for Inuyama. Thrusting her head forward, she smiled, giving him a silent but mocking invitation to cut.
Inuyama chuckled. “You are a brave little girl, but that is not a clever move. It will take time for you to pick up the jo or draw your wakizashi – I will have cut you before you do so,” he said, moving in for the kill. He raised his sword to jodan kamae, preparing to cut her from above her head.
Fuu was ready this time, and drew her wakizashi at a lightning-fast speed, blocking Inuyama’s cut with it, right hand placed on the hilt, left hand supporting the blunt edge. The cut was a forceful one, designed to slice through her body, and she experienced a painful jolt in her arms and shoulders when Inuyama’s blade struck her own. But the force and speed of the cut also provided her with an opportunity for deflecting the blade in an equally forceful way. The momentum of the sword deflection, in turn, threw Inuyama’s right hand across to the left, simultaneously putting his body slightly off balance. Fuu immediately seized the advantage, stepping in close to Inuyama, while using her left hand to pin his right elbow to his body, pushing him backwards at the same time. Then she cut his neck with her wakizashi.
There was a look of surprise on Inuyama’s face, and it was for the first time during their brief encounter that she had seen his eyes wide open. This was followed by a fountain of blood, which sprayed her before he fell to the ground dead, with the same wide-eyed, surprised look on his face.
Fuu felt herself fading out of the world; her surroundings darkened as she was no longer able to stave off the feeling of nausea and dizziness that had been brought on by her injury. As the light surrounding her faded, so did the sounds, yet she could discern the approach of people. The muted sounds she heard were recognizable ones – footsteps running towards her and urgent, frantic calls of ‘Fuu’ and ‘Fuu-chan’. She recognized the voices of Jin, Mugen and Hideo-jisan. I must say goodbye to them, she thought attempting to walk in the direction of the sounds. But each step was more difficult than the previous one, and she found herself falling forward, only to be caught by a pair of pale, outstretched arms. Jin.
And then there was oblivion.
[1] Tengu are mythical creatures in Japanese folklore, who dwell in the mountains, and are possessed with the hidden secrets of the martial arts. A classic philosophical text on the martial arts written by Niwa Jurozaemon Tadaaki (1659-1741) under the nom de plume Issai Chozanshi, is in fact written in the form of a conversation between a Tengu and a swordsman. See The Demon’s Sermon on the Martial Arts, by Issai Chozanshi, translated by William Scott Wilson, Kodansha International, 2006. (Note that while the term ‘Demon’ has been used for Tengu here, it does not have a Satanic or Mephistophelean connotation. There can be tengu of many types – the spiritually evolved, the malevolent, or the mischievous variety).
[2] The term ‘banzai’ literally means ‘ten thousand years’, and was used as a battle cry by the Japanese during World War II, so its use here may be considered anachronistic. It is typically an exhortation of long life and celebration, and in Samurai Champloo we hear it in the episode ‘Bogus Booty’ when Jin, Mugen, and Fuu find counterfeit koban in a river. In the context of the WWII, the Japanese sometimes used the longer version 'Tennoheika Banzai' during a charge, which meant ‘May the Emporer reign for ten thousand years’.
[3] The rite of musha shugyo was a samurai’s ‘warrior quest’, a pilgrimage of sorts, undertaken ostensibly for the purpose of learning and improvement in the study of martial arts. Martial artists on such a quest were referred to as shugyosha, the most notable example being that of Miyamoto Musashi. William Scott Wilson, in The Lone Samurai: The Life of Miyamoto Musashi describes a shugyosha as “a sword practitioner who perfected his skills and enhanced his reputation by wandering through the provinces of Japan engaging in combat – often mortal – with other swordsman.” He also writes:
“The life of a shugyosha was by no means an easy one. It involved a long list of rigorous ascetic practices: in his travels, the shugyosha was exposed to cold and hot weather, often sleeping in the mountains and fields with little shelter from wind and rain; he bore hunger without carrying money or rations for his travels; he walked through the most inaccessible places and was always in danger of losing either his reputation or his life in a chance match along the way.”
[4] The quotations are from Yagyu Munenori’s The Life Giving Sword, referenced in the previous chapter.
[5] Readers will recall the episode ‘'Hellhounds for Hire-II” in which Fuu gets mistaken for a dice roller.
Author's note: Readers may have found this chapter somewhat unusual; weaving dream sequences and action must involve breaking some sort of cardinal rule for writers! Again, I couldn't help delving into the martial arts culture of the times. But the most difficult part, in relation to writing this chapter, was the description of martial arts techniques. While I can easily visualize them, they are hard to verbalize, so I had to invoke an artistic license and settle for descriptions that are somewhat incomplete, and perhaps imprecise. I also felt that too detailed a description may hinder the flow of things, especially when one is writing an action sequence.
Anyway, I enjoyed writing this as usual, and I hope you enjoy reading it.