That's four, he thought as he landed, listening to the thud of a limp body on the ground. He did not get over confidant, his focus remained on the task at hand. Running toward the center of the group, he feinted to the right taking his opponent of guard. Lunging toward him with a strike that was easily deflected, the young warrior punched his adversary in the stomach then knocked his unconscious with the hilt of his bo-ken. He brought his blade to bare in defense of a powerful overhand strike. Pushing the blade back, he slashed downward and back up forcing his attacker to backpedal. On the attack he struck furiously, slashing with blinding speed. The defense was not up to the speed of the attack as the hunter was now the hunted. The young warrior did not falter in his attack as he struck body each time that he swung. He's inhuman! The defender thought as he felt each stinging blows of the wooden blade strike him. He leaped back to escape the barrage. In a last ditch effort, he lunged at the smaller warrior with a horizontal strike missing completely. He turned to face his swift adversary falling unconscious from the punch he received in the stomach.
Relaxing in his stance, the young warrior stopped to face his last opponent. His stance was calm but strong. Lowering his right shoulder toward the last of the four, he was ready for any attack that was coming his way. His right foot was planted firmly and his bo-ken was positioned on his left. The air was still for the last of the four as he set in a stance mirroring his smaller opponent.
What does he know of the stance? Doesn't he know that this attack is my specialty? He will lose now and be disciplined for his overconfidence. A smile showed on his face as an air of superiority fell on him. But it was overshadowed by the doubt that his skill will overcome the speed strength of this young apprentice. Only luck and seconds will tell. Silence settled on them that moment. Each one waiting out the other to see who will move strike first. Who will make the crucial move? The older one looked into the face of his smaller opponent seeing no emotion in the blindfolded face. A smile made it's way on to his face. That little bastard! Who does he think he is?
"HAAAAAAAA!" the older took the bait. His strike was swift and strong but it was done in anger and haste, which is what the younger wanted. The pass was swift with a loud crack filling the air. Both stopped and turned to face the other. The younger relaxed his blade and waited.
Impossible! There was no way he should be standing now! No WAY! He should be doubled over in pain and... dropping his bo-ken he fell to the ground grabbing his stomach and gasping for air.
The young samurai removed the blindfold and looked at his work. A gentle breeze ran past playing with his hair. Not surprised, he turned to see his master before him. Never looking him in the eyes, he placed the bo-ken on the ground before him, he bowed low before his senpai. No words were said. Uncertain as to weather his master approved of his technique or if he was ashamed, he still said nothing. Since the beginning of the exercise he remained calm and collected now his heart raced and beads of sweat formed and dropped from his brow as he remained bowing. He was certain that the execution of the technique form was flawless. His speed and strength was what enabled him to beat the four and complete the exercise. There was no reason why his master should be disappointed or angry with him. The silence was enough to wake the dead. Discipline and honor to the elder and superior is what kept the young warrior from moving from his position even though he wanted to know what his master thought of his execution. In thirty years of teaching the ways of the I have never seen such perfection and skill if I were to die right now I would die a happy man to know that my training of this one was not in vain.
Hamada picked up the bo-ken weighing it in his hand. "This is heavier than a regular bo-ken, Kenjiro. Why?" Kenjiro cleared his throat. "To prepare me for the weight of the katana, senpai," he answered from his unchanged position. Hamada turned and began walking from the grove. "Come, Kenjiro it is time for the next step in your training." Kenjiro's eyes widened. He jumped up from his kneeling position and followed his master. Hamada led Kenjiro back to the compound. All the buildings were dark except for a room on the second floor in the main house. They went past the kitchen, which cause Kenjiro's stomach to growl his exercise was started well before the evening meal and his hunger had suddenly caught up to him.
The master led his student off the compound to a small house and where a huge furnace was raging. Kenjiro felt the heat as he approached.
What part of my training is this?
Hamada opened the door and removed his shoes and Kenjiro followed suit. They stepped into the house and walked to the inner door. Sliding the door open, Hamada stepped in and immediately went to his knees before a man that looked several years older than him. Kenjiro did as his master did but wondered who this man was and why he was entitled to this respect from his lord.
His eyes were closed yet before they entered his home he knew they were there. This day was coming and he knew he would be called on again to do what the gods had given him the gifts to do. For twelve generations his father and those before him had be making the blades that were legend and the symbols of he dynasties of the day. Masaki Murasame knew that this would be the last sword that he would make.
"Murasame-sama, I have come to ask something of you," Hamada began as he touched his head to the floor in front of him. The sword maker opened his eyes and looked directly at Kenjiro. "I would ask that you would make a sword for my pupil one that would suit him and serve him and his country well as the sword you created for me." Kenjiro felt his eyes bore into him as a heated blade. He felt the urge to bow before this man but he remained motionless staring back into the eyes of the blade master.
"No." Hamada raised his head and looked at the Murasame with a quizzical look on his face. "My lord, may I ask why?" he said as he bowed his head to the floor again."
"He will make his own and carry on this tradition as my son will."
"My lord, that will take years." Murasame slammed his hand on the ground "He will make his own!"
Both Hamada and Kenjiro were surprised by the tone of voice that Masaki used. Hamada bowed again. "I understand. Forgive me impertinence." Murasame sat back folding his hands into his sleeves. "He will begin tomorrow."
Hamada bowed once again and stood and backed out of the room looking at his pupil who remained seated looking at his new master.
Kenjiro stayed perfectly still not moving or saying anything. If this is what I must do, then so be it. He looked at Murasame and wondered what it was that made him so disturbing. Murasame sat there with his eyes closed as if feeling the presence of the young man before him.
"How old are you, boy?"
"Sixteen."
"And you wish to master the blade do you?"
"I do."
"Why?"
"To honor my father's memory and his father before him. They both died serving their lord's faithfully. I wish to carry on the tradition."
"So you wish to die then?"
"No, senpai, I wish to serve me master loyally and faithfully, and if it means my death then it is my destiny."
"What is your name, boy?"
"Kenjiro, Kenjiro Toro."
That name, Toro, sounded familiar to Misaki. "Your father was?"
"Ikage Toro."
The face of one of his brightest pupils became clear to him as he looked at young Kenjiro. The time he spent teaching young Ikage the art of steel. It seemed that days would pass before his young apprentice would leave the forge with a failed attempt. Inside he smiled as he remembered the joy he had in his heart as Ikage fashioned his own blade that rivaled his own perfection and the pain and anguish that he felt when he decided to leave and serve his lord and country. He sensed innocence about Kenjiro that was similar to his father when he first came to him. He felt a deep-seated pain inside him also. The thought of losing another student to another senseless war did not sit well with him. He thought of telling Hamada no, but the young lord has done so much for him that he couldn't refuse.
(There will be more to come about Kenjiro)