ericlustbader.the ninja-第32部分

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y　and　dishonorable　behaviour；　the　shogun　sent　men　out　into　the　countryside　to　track　him　down；　and　when　they　finally　did；　they　adhered　to　the　order　given　by　the　shogun。　No　seppuku　for　my　great…grandfather；　the　shogun　would　not　grant　him　an　honorable　way　to　die。　He　was　carrion　now；　no　longer　a　bushi。　They　crucified　him　as　they　did　the　scum　of　the　land。
　'In　most　of　those　cases；　the　offender's　entire　family　is　destroyed　…　the　women　and　all　the　children　so　that　his　family　line；　his　most　prized　possession；　would　be　stripped　from　him。　Not　this　time；　however。'
　'Why？'　Nicholas　asked。　'What　happened？'
　Itami　shrugged　and　smiled　wanly。　'Karma。　My　karma　which　forms　the　backbone　of　my　life。　I　rebel　against　it；　it　makes　me　ache；　and　at　night　I　cry。　I　am　ashamed　to　say　that。　I　am　a　bushi；　a　samurai　woman；　even　in　this　day　and　age。　Some　things　time　cannot　alter。　My　blood　seethes　with　ten　thousand　battles；　my　soul　resonates　to　the　sweep　of　the　katana；　its　blade；　its　fearful　shades　of　steel。'
　She　stood　up；　the　parasol　blossomed　like　an　enormous　flower。　'One　day　you　will　understand　this。　And　remember。　It　is　difficult　now　at　the　ryu。　Do　not　interrupt　me。　I　know。　But　you　must　never　give　it　up。　Do　you　hear　me？　Never。'　She　turned　away　from　him；　the　soft　pastels　of　the　parasol　blotting　out　the　smouldering　passion　in　her　black　eyes。　'e；'　he　heard　her　say。　'It　is　time　we　returned　to　the　world。'
　'This　is　Ai　Uchi；'　said　Muromachi。　He　was　holding　a　bokken　in　his　hands。　Seven　students；　Nicholas's　group；　stood　in　a　precise　semicircle　around　him。　'Here　at　the　Itto　ryu；　it　is　the　first　teaching；　the　first　of　hundreds。　At　Uchi　means　cut　the　opponent　just　as　he　cuts　you。　It　is　the　timing　you　will　learn　here；　the　one　that　is　basic　to　kenjutsu。　One　which　you　will　never　forget。　Ai　Uchi　is　lack　of　anger。　It　means　to　treat　an　opponent　as　if　he　were　an　honoured　guest。　It　means　to　abandon　your　life　or　to　throw　away　fear。　Ai　Uchi　is　the　first　technique　and　it　is　the　last。　Remember　that。　It　is　the　Zen　circle。'
　This　was　the　lesson　Nicholas　had　first　been　taught　upon　arriving　at　the　ryu　seven　years　ago。　He　did　not　fully　understand　it　yet　he　never　forgot　it。　And　in　the　time　that　followed；　as　he　practised　with　a　cold　fury　the　thousand　cuts　of　the　katana　under　Muromachi's　tutelage；　as　he　learned　the　moral　teaching　of　kenjutsu；　as　the　knowledge　piled　itself　upon　him　with　dizzying　rapidity；　he　was　ever　to　think　of　that　first　lesson　and；　in　pondering　it；　feel　a　calmness；　stepping　into　the　eye　of　the　storm　each　time　that　storm　threatened　to　overwhelm　him。
　And　he　repeated　the　thousand　cuts　over　and　over；　feeling　as　if　his　arms　and　his　legs　were　wearing　grooves　into　the　air　until；　at　last；　his　reward　manifested　itself；　when　his　sword　became　no　sword；　his　intention　became　no　intention　and　he　knew　that　that　first　lesson　given　to　him　by　Muromachi　so　long　ago　was　in　fact；　the　highest　knowledge。
　Still；　he　was　not　satisfied。　He　was　thinking　of　this　late　one　afternoon　after　practice　when　he　felt　a　presence　in　the　room。　He　looked　up　but　saw　no　one。　The　room　was　deserted　and　yet　he　could　hot　get　it　out　of　his　mind　that　someone　was　there。　He　stood　up　and　was　about　to　call　out　when　he　thought　it　might　again　be　several　of　the　boys　lying　in　wait　for　him　and　he　kept　quiet；　not　wanting　to　give　them　any　degree　of　satisfaction。
　He　began　to　move　around　the　room　in　the　dusk。　The　far　side　of　the　empty　dojo　was　streaked　with　dusty　sunlight　as　red　as　blood；　washed　in　the　industrial　haze　lying　low；　its　tendrils　creeping　up　Fuji's　majestic　slopes。　Rapidly；　his　assessment　changed。　While　he　was　quite　certain　now　that　someone　was　there　with　him；　it　also　came　to　him　that　this　person　meant　him　no　harm。　How　he　had　e　to　this　conclusion　he　could　not；　have　said；　it　was；　rather；　a　purely　automatic　response。
　Light　spilled　into　the　corner　of　the　dojo；　touching　the　edge　of　the　clear…lacquered　wooden　railing；　a　fat　slice　of　the　raised　platform　behind　it；　leaving　in　dense　shadow　the　corner　beam。　He　was　watching　this　pattern　of　light　and　shade　when　a　voice　said；　'Good　evening；　Nicholas。'
　The　corner　shadow　had　e　to　life；　a　figure　stepping　out　of　its　concealing　pocket；　into　the　light。　It　was　Kansatsu。
　He　was　a　thin；　slight　man；　his　stiff　bristly　hair　already　white。　He　had　eyes　that　never　appeared　to　move　yet　took　in　everything　at　once。
　He　made　absolutely　no　sound　as　he　came　down　off　the　platform　to　stand　in　front　of　Nicholas　who；　bare　to　the　waist；　felt　totally　tongue…tied。　Kansatsu　had　barely　said　three　words　to　him　since　he　had　e　to　the　ryu。　Now　they　were　here　together；　and　Nicholas　understood　enough　to　know　that　the　meeting　was　not　accidental。
　He　saw　Kansatsu　eyeing　him；　then　the　man　stepped　forward；　his　outstretched　forefinger　touching　the　purple　and　blue　bruise　just　beneath　Nicholas's　sternum　on　the　left　side。
　'These　are　very　bad　times　for　Japan；'　Kansatsu　said。　'Very　sad　times。'　He　looked　up。　'The　war　was　joined　because　of　economics　and　our　imperialism　dictated　that　we　expand　beyond　our　islands。'　He　sighed。　'But　the　war　was　ill　advised　for　all　that；　for　it　stemmed　from　greed；　not　honour。　The　new　Japanese　adds　the　gloss　of　bushido　to　his　actions；　I　am　afraid；　rather　than　allowing　his　actions　to　evolve　from　it。'　His　eyes　were　sad。　'And　now　we　pay　the　price。　We　are　overrun　by　Americans；　our　new　Constitution　is　American　and　the　entire　thrust　of　the　new　Japan　is　to　serve　the　American　interests。　So　strange；　so　strange　for　Japan　to　serve　such　a　master。'　He　shrugged。　'But；　you　see；　no　matter　what　happens　to　Japan；　bushido　will　never　pletely　perish。　We　begin　to　wear　Western　business　suits；　our　women　wear　their　hair　in　the　American　manner；　we　adopt　the　Western　ways。　These　things　do　not　matter。　The　Japanese　is　like　the　willow；　bending　in　the　wind　so　that　it　should　not　break。　These　are　merely　outward　manifestations　of　our　desire　now　for　parity　in　the　world。　So；　too；　do　the　Americans　unwittingly　serve　our　purpose；　for；　with　their　money；　we　shall　rise　more　powerful　than　ever。　Yet　we　must　ever　look　to　our　tradition；　for　only　bushido　makes　us　strong。
　'You　wish　to　bee　one　of　us；'　he　said　abruptly。　'But　this'　…　he　pointed　to　the　bruise　that　had　been　inflicted　by　Saigo　…'tells　me　that　you　have　not　been　entirely　successful。'
　'Success　will　e　in　time；'　Nicholas　said。　'I　am　learning　not　to　be　impatient。'
　Kansatsu　nodded。　'Good。　Very　good。　Yet　one　must　take　the　necessary　steps。'　He　put　his　fingertips　together　in　front　of　him；　began　to　walk　slowly　across　the　dojo　with　Nicholas　beside　him。　'I　think　it　is　time　that　you　began　to　work　with　other　sensei。　I　do　not　want　you　to　give　up　your　very　valuable　work　with　Muromachi；　rather　I　want　to　add　to　your　current　schedule。
　'Tomorrow　you　will　begin　to　work　with　me；'　he　said；　leading　Nicholas　across　the　darkened　room；　'in　haragei。'
　Nicholas　would　always　separate　his　relationship　with　Satsugai　into　two　distinct　sections。　The　specific　point　of　demarcation　was　the　zaibatsu　party　he　attended　with　his　parents。　It　was；　of　course；　quite　possible　that　this　changing　perception　was　strictly　a　function　of　his　own　growing　up。　On　the　other　hand；　he　had　tended　to　believe　that　it　was　just　as　much　a　matter　of　what　transpired　there　that　night。
　Satsugai　was　not　a　large　man；　either　in　terms　of　height　or　of　bulk。　Yet　for　all　that　he　was　nevertheless　quite　remarkable。　He　was　massive　through　chest　and　belly　with　squat　legs　and　arms　that　appeared　to　be　far　too　short　for　his　body。　His　head　seemed　to　be　cemented　onto　his　shoulders　without　the　benefit　of　an　intervening　neck。　His　head　was　a　perfect　oval　covered　on　top　by　jet　black　hair　cut　en　brosse；　which；　to　Nicholas　at　least；　added　to　his　military　bearing。　His　face　was　flat　but　not　in　a　typically　Japanese　manner。　His　eyes；　for　instance；　were　distinctly　almond…shaped　and　as　glossily　black　as　hard　chips　of　obsidian　but　they　slanted　upwards　at　their　outer　corners　and　this　oddity；　bined　with　his　flat；　high　cheek…bones　and　the　deep　yellow　colours　of　his　skin；　bespoke　his　Mongol　heritage。　Nicholas　could　think　of　him；　without　much　difficulty　at　all；　as　some　reincarnation　of　Genghis　Khan。　This　was　not　so　outlandish　as　it　at　first　might　seem　for；　recalling　his　history；　Nicholas　brought　to　mind　the　Mongol　invasions　of　Japan　in　1274　and　1281。　Fukuoka；　in　the　south；　was　their　chief　target　because　of　its　nearness　to　the　Asian　shore。　Satsugai；　Nicholas　knew；　had　been　born　in　the　Fukuoka　district　and　though　he　was；　in　all　ways；　purely　Japanese　…　tradition…minded；　wholly　reactionary　…　who　could　say　that　his　ancestors　had　not　been　among　those　most　feared　mounted　nomads？
　One　might　think　that；　in　giving　all　these　particulars　of　his　physical　appearance；　one　should　thus　be　able　to　define　the　man。　Not　so；　however。　Satsugai　was；　quite　clearly；　an　individual　who　was　born　to　lead。　Being　a　native　of　a　land　dedicated　to　the　ideal　of　duty　to　the　group　…　family　elders；　the　daimyo　and；　ultimately；　the　shogun　who　represented　the　concept　of　Japan　more　forcefully　and　in　a　much　more　real　sense　than　did　the　Emperor　for　a　span　of　some　two　hundred　and　fifty　years　…　he　was　nevertheless　forever　a　man　apart。　Outwardly；　quite　naturally；　this　was　not　so；　for　he　was　totally　dedicated　to　Japan；　his　Japan；　and　to　this　end　he　belonged　to　many　groups；　not　merely　one　of