Page 36

Chapter 36

Yoshi

R oughly a week into the caravan’s journey to the town of Karu, I resigned myself to two things: First, my butt and legs would forever be sore from the saddle; and second, these would be the most boring weeks of my short life.

The isle ruled by Anzu Han had enjoyed peace for many years. Even bandits were rare. The lazy trek from one tip of the island to the other felt like an interminable act of tedium. Then again, I thought, given our harrowing escape from wild-eyed wakō and the number of our countrymen who had lost their lives in the attack, perhaps a little boredom was a good thing.

Takeo appeared to take it all in stride. I watched as my uncle trotted away to visit with leaders from one city, then fell back to chat with elders of the other town. I hadn’t seen it at first, but there was a pattern to Takeo’s movements. Twice each day, morning and afternoon, he left my side to rotate between the clans.

“Uncle,” I began, as Takeo returned from his evening visits on the third day of our trip. “What do you talk about with the elders? They know about the wakō , and nothing else ever happens in our land. Why visit them so often?”

“I have been waiting for you to ask something like that.” Takeo grinned. “It is time we began your training.”

“Really?” I nearly leaped out of my saddle.

Takeo laughed. “Yes, really. We will start with diplomacy.”

I groaned as images of Samurai and dancing swords evaporated.

“Why do you think your father sent you on this journey?”

I thought a moment. “It’s on the way to Suwa. He’s letting me train there.”

Takeo rolled his eyes. “Yes, Yoshi, we are headed to Suwa, but there is more to this trip than satisfying your dream of wielding a katana . Use your brain, boy. You will never be the strongest among men. You must think better than anyone else if you are to survive, especially if you hope to rule one day.”

I cocked my head. Uncle had never struck me as a deep thinker. He’d always used his sword to do his talking—except when he was trying to get under my father’s skin. Those bouts were always fun to watch.

“But, if I train hard, I’ll get stronger.” My voice was almost a plea.

“Yes, you will get stronger; but Yoshi, a Samurai must see the world as it is, not as he wishes it to be. He must know the truth and accept it, even when he does not like what it tells him.”

My head fell.

“Look at me, Yoshi.”

Reluctantly, my eyes rose to meet my uncle’s.

“Your father believes in you. I believe in you. Your path may not lead to great strength and power of steel, but it can still help you achieve greatness.” Takeo thought a moment. “Take Asami Eiko Daimyo —”

“She’s a woman.”

Takeo chuckled. “Yes, she is a woman, and she is also one of the seven Daimyo who rule the Emperor’s lands. How do you think she became a powerful warlord?”

My brow scrunched as I thought. “I guess she has strong men fighting for her.”

Takeo nodded. “That is true, but your father has the same. Every Daimyo does. Eiko managed to rise to the same station as your father—and all the other male Daimyo . If she does not possess the raw muscle of those men, how do you think she claimed power?”

“Guile. Father says she’s a sneaky bitch.”

Takeo laughed deep and loud. “Yes, nephew, she is that, and much more. She is brilliant, wise, and cunning. Where others seek only to rule by the sword, she governs by force of her will, mind, and voice. Her people follow because they believe in her ability to keep them safe, to lead them well.”

“They believe in her? Like you said you believe in me?”

Takeo smiled and nodded. “Yes, Yoshi- san , exactly like that.”

“I still don’t get why you spend so much time with the elders.”

“Think about it. What were your father’s instruction before we left?”

“To escort them home. He said they’d stood by us during the attack . . . and that he wanted to honor them.”

“And does your mere presence honor them?”

I grunted. “Hardly. I’m just a useless—”

“ Never say that, Yoshi!” Takeo snapped. “You will be Daimyo , and you are my nephew.”

“Sorry, Uncle.”

“Now, finish what you started. If simply riding together is not enough, how do we honor these elders who stood by our side in our time of need?”

“I guess . . . we . . . I don’t know. They seem to like it when you just spend time with them and listen to what they say.”

Takeo smiled broadly. “You just learned the most essential lesson in treating with others, especially a wife, should you one day find a woman willing to have you. You must listen more than you speak. Everyone craves to be seen and heard, especially by their Daimyo . Even the Emperor must practice this principle in order to keep the peace.”

“Really? I thought everyone feared him because he is the Son of Heaven and he has an awesome dragon.”

Takeo laughed. “Gods are a conversation for another day, but yes, even the Emperor must listen and make others feel valued. If you learn to do that well, you will go far.”

I stared at the road, lost in thoughts of emperors and gods and dragons, then another question popped into my head.

“So, since we just covered diplomacy, when do we train with swords?”

Takeo bellowed so loudly guards turned in search of the cause. “Tomorrow, Yoshi. Tomorrow you may draw your bokken from your saddlebag.”

Early the next morning, while Amaterasu still slumbered, Takeo’s hand shaking my shoulder brought me awake.

“You said you wanted to learn to be Samurai. I only know a few lazy enough to let the goddess wake first.”

I rubbed my bleary eyes, desperate to clear my cloudy mind; but as soon as I realized what was happening, I bounded out of my bedroll and snatched the bokken from my pack.

“Easy with that thing,” Takeo cautioned. “It may be a dull piece of wood, but it will still bruise anyone close enough to feel its weight.”

I lowered the practice weapon and followed my uncle into an open field next to where we had set up camp. Guards and Samurai nodded and grinned at Uncle as we passed.

How long had they been awake?

An hour in, Uncle had yet to allow me to raise my blade.

“Are forms the only thing you plan to teach me today?” I pouted as I tried to replicate Takeo’s impossible poses. The way arms and legs had to bend and twist reminded me more of the fried dough of the festival vendors than anything a warrior might find useful.

“The kata are the core of swordsmanship. Until you master them, there is no use in touching a blade,” Takeo said without so much as a wobble in his one-legged balance. “Back to work, Yoshi. There is still an hour before dawn.”

I groaned and tossed my bokken into the grass, then resumed contorting my body.

Amaterasu finally roused, heralding another day of southward travel. Takeo and I ate, shoulder to shoulder with a few of the guards, seated around a small campfire. In all the time I’d lived in the castle, I’d never spent much time with the soldiers. As a member of the household, being overly friendly with the staff was frowned upon. So it surprised me when the men in Anzu armor welcomed me into their midst, chatting amiably and joking as though I had always been one of their number.

When the caravan halted around midday, Takeo motioned for me to follow him again.

“Uncle, my muscles hurt in places I didn’t know I had muscles.”

Takeo barked a laugh. “Good. That is as it should be. Your body will adjust in a few weeks.”

“A few weeks?” I nearly stumbled. “I’ll be dead by then.”

Takeo laughed again, not even trying to hide his amusement at his nephew’s apparent suffering. “Just think what a few years will do for you, Yoshi. You will become a new man.”

“If I survive that long.”

Takeo’s shoulders shook. “You must survive. That is another lesson every Samurai learns. It is good you have skipped ahead to that one.”

That night, fires were lit, and groups of four or five huddled around blazes for warmth. At Takeo’s instruction, he and I built a small fire of our own a dozen paces from the main campsite.

“Are you going to make me run again? Carry small trees on my back? Stand on one leg like a crane?”

Takeo grinned at the shift in his formerly exuberant pupil’s tone.

“No, tonight we start your most important lesson.”

I took a sip of brothy soup and glanced up.

“Being Samurai means more than strength of arms or knowledge of battle. You have heard us speak of following the Path, but do you understand what that means?”

“Bushido. The Path is Bushido.”

“Very good.” Takeo nodded. “And what does following Bushido mean?”

“Um. Being honorable?”

“That is a significant part of it, but honor is only one of the Virtues. Bushido is a way of life.” Takeo stood, reached into his kimono , and withdrew a scroll. Clutching the rolled paper in two hands, he bowed and held the scroll toward me. “Honored nephew, receive these Virtues as your first step upon the Path. May they guide your words and deeds throughout your long life. May they lead you to understanding, peace, and harmony in mind, body, and spirit.”

My eyes widened. Despite his fearsome exterior, Uncle had always been playful and affectionate, carousing with his nieces and nephews as any uncle might. He loved us, and he showed it regularly. We knew it well.

But respect?

I could not remember a single time Uncle had bowed toward me first. He had certainly never offered a deep gesture due my station as the Daimyo ’s son. And yet, there he stood, bowed deeply, and reached out the scroll with both hands.

I quickly returned his bow.

Uncle cleared his throat and rattled the scroll.

“Oh, right, sorry,” I said, reaching out and taking the gift from his hands. I expected the near weightlessness of parchment and was surprised when I felt the heft of thick animal hide.

“Rise, Yoshi- san . Read the words aloud,” Takeo said reverently.

I fumbled with the silk cord holding the scroll together, then unfurled it, revealing seven exquisitely stylized characters. As I spoke each word, Takeo interjected, performing some ancient rite with his nephew.

“Integrity,” I read.

Uncle replied, “Be acutely honest in all things. Believe in justice, not from others, but from yourself.”

“Respect.”

“True Samurai have no reason to be cruel. We need not prove our power. Samurai are courteous. Our true strength is apparent, even in the most difficult of times.”

“Heroic Courage.”

“Hiding like a turtle in a shell is not living. Heroic courage is not blind. It is intelligent and strong.”

“Honor.”

“Samurai have only one judge of honor and character. One cannot hide from one’s own self.”

“Compassion.”

“Samurai are not as most people. We learn and grow in a power that must be used for good. Our compassion compels us to help our fellow man. We seek opportunities to aid others.”

“Honesty and Sincerity.”

“When Samurai say they will do a thing, it is as good as done. To Samurai, speaking and doing are the same. There is no need to give one’s word. We do not promise. We do.”

“Duty and Loyalty.”

“Samurai bear responsibility for all we have done and said. We accept every consequence that follows. Samurai are steadfastly loyal to our Daimyo and all in our care.”

My eyes slowly rose from the hide. There was something in his eyes that made my breath catch, but it was my uncle’s smile that warmed his soul.

“Accepting these Virtues, Yoshi- san , is your first step along the Path.”