The Way Of The Sword Read Online Free Page A

Yamato-kun.’
    Jack and a startled Yamato stepped out of line and approached Sensei Hosokawa.
    ‘Seiza
,’ he ordered and the two of them knelt down. ‘Not you, Jack-kun. I need you to understand what it means to carry a
katana
. Withdraw your sword.’
    Jack unsheathed his
katana
. The blade gleamed, its edge so sharp that it appeared to cut the very air itself.
    Uncertain as to what Sensei Hosokawa expected of him, he fell into stance. His sword was stretched out in front of him and he gripped the hilt with both hands. His feet were set wide apart, the
kissaki
level with the throat of his imaginary enemy.
    Masamoto’s sword felt unusually heavy in his hands. Over the course of a year of
kenjutsu
training, his own
bokken
had become an extension of his arm. He knew its weight, its feel and how it cut through the air.
    But this sword was different. Weightier and more visceral. It had killed people. Sliced them in half. And Jack suddenly sensed its bloody history in his hands.
    He was starting to regret his rashness in bringing the sword.
    The sensei, noting the visible trembling of Jack’s
katana
with grim satisfaction, proceeded to remove a single grain of rice from his
inro
, the small wooden carrying case attached to his
obi
. He then placed the grain on top of Yamato’s head.
    ‘Cut it in half,’ he ordered Jack.
    ‘What?’ blurted Yamato, his eyes wide with shock.
    ‘But it’s on his head -‘ protested Jack.
    ‘Do it!’ commanded Hosokawa, pointing at the tiny grain of rice.
    ‘But… but… I can’t…’
    ‘If you think you’re ready for such responsibility, now is your chance to prove it.’
    ‘But I could kill Yamato!’ exclaimed Jack.
    ‘This is what it means to carry a sword. People get killed. Now cut the grain.’
    ‘I can’t,’ said Jack, lowering his
katana
.
    ‘Can’t?’
exclaimed Hosokawa. ‘I command you, as your sensei, to strike at his head and slice that grain in half.’
    Sensei Hosokawa grabbed Jack’s hands and brought the sword into direct line with Yamato’s exposed head. The miniscule grain of rice perched there, a white speck among the mass of black hair.
    Jack knew that the blade would slice through Yamato’s head as if it were little more than a watermelon. Jack’s arms quivered uncontrollably and Yamato gave him a despairing look, his face completely drained of blood.
    ‘DO IT NOW!’ commanded Hosokawa, lifting Jack’s arms to force him to strike.
    The rest of the students watched with dread fascination.
    Akiko looked on fearfully. Beside her, her best friend Kiku, a petite girl with dark shoulder-length hair and hazelnut-coloured eyes, was almost on the point of tears. Kazuki, though, was apparently relishing the moment. He nudged his ally Nobu, a large boy with the build of a mini-Sumo wrestler, and whispered in his ear, loud enough for Jack to hear.
    ‘I bet you the
gaijin
chops off Yamato’s ear!’
    ‘Or maybe his nose!’ chortled Nobu, a fat grin spreading across his podgy face.
    The sword wavered in the air. Jack felt all control over the weapon drain from his body.
    ‘I… I… can’t,’ Jack stammered. ‘I’ll kill him.’
    Defeated, he lowered the
katana
to the floor.
    ‘Then I’ll do it for you,’ said Sensei Hosokawa.
    Yamato, who had let out a sigh of relief, instantly froze.
    In the blink of an eye, the sensei withdrew his own sword and cut down on to Yamato’s head. Kiku screamed as the blade buried itself in his hair. Her cry reverberated throughout the
Butokuden
.
    Yamato fell forward, his head dropping to the ground.
    Jack saw the tiny grain of rice peel apart and fall in two separate pieces on to the
dojo
floor.
    Yamato remained bowed, trembling like a leaf, trying to regain control of his breathing. Otherwise, he was completely unscathed. The blade had not even grazed his scalp.
    Jack stood motionless, overwhelmed at Sensei Hosokawa’s skill. What a fool he had been to question his sensei’s judgement.
Now
he understood the