The Way Of The Sword Read Online Free Page B

responsibility that came with a sword. The choice of life over death was truly in his hands. This was no game.
    ‘Until you have complete control,’ said Sensei Hosokawa, fixing Jack with a stern look as he resheathed his
katana
, ‘you don’t have the skill to warrant carrying a real blade. You’re not ready for the Way of the Sword.’

5
CIRCLE OF THREE

    ‘ YOUNG SAMURAI!’ thundered Masamoto down the length of the
Chō-no-ma
, the ceremonial dining hall that earned its name from the lavishly decorated panelled walls of painted butterflies.
    The students, who were kneeling in regimented rows, stiffened and prepared for Masamoto’s opening address. Jack, his legs already becoming numb from being in the
seiza
posture, shifted himself in order to get a better view of the proceedings. Masamoto sat in his usual place, raised upon a dais behind a low table of black-lacquered cedar. The table was laid with cups of steaming
sencha
, the bitter green tea the samurai enjoyed.
    Masamoto took a measured sip from his cup, letting the silence sink in.
    Dressed in a flame-red kimono emblazoned with his golden phoenix
kamon
, Masamoto was a man who commanded total authority and deep respect from both his students and fellow samurai. His strength of presence was such that Jack no longer registered the crimson scarring that disfigured the entire left-hand side of the man’s face like a mask of melted candlewax. All Jack saw was an invincible warrior.
    Flanking him on either side were the sensei of the
Niten Ichi Ryū
and two other samurai Jack didn’t recognize.
    ‘This dinner is in honour of our
daimyo
, Lord of Kyoto Province, Takatomi Hideaki,’ announced Masamoto, bowing humbly to the man on his immediate left.
    Every student and sensei did likewise.
    This was the first time Jack had laid eyes upon the
daimyo
whose life he’d saved. A genial man with large dewy eyes, a brushstroke of a moustache and a generous rounded belly, he wore a flamboyant ceremonial kimono decorated with five
kamon
of a white crane, two on the sleeves, two on the chest and one on the back. He gave a short respectful nod of his head in acknowledgement of Masamoto’s respect.
    Masamoto sat back up. Then the sensei and students straightened in rank order, the new students being the last to raise their heads.
    ‘Takatomi-sama has graced us with his presence in recognition of our victory at the
Taryu-Jiai
against the
Yagyu Ryū
.’
    The school let loose a great cheer.
    ‘And following our prevention of the attempt on his life he has generously extended his sponsorship of the
Niten Ichi Ryū
, securing the future of this school indefinitely.’
    The students chanted and clapped in unison three times.
    ‘TAKATOMI!’
CLAP!
‘TAKATOMI!’
CLAP!
‘TAKATOMI!’
CLAP!
    The
daimyo
gave a cordial smile and the briefest of bows in response.
    ‘Furthermore, he has bestowed upon the school a new training hall: the
Taka-no-ma
, the Hall of The Hawk!’
    The students erupted into applause and fevered discussion broke out. A new hall meant the possibility of another martial art being taught. Masamoto held his hand up for silence. Immediately, the students checked their enthusiasm and he continued his address.
    ‘Before we commence the meal, allow me to introduce our second guest.’
    Masamoto directed his attention to a large barrel of a man whose round head was covered in a fuzz of short black hair and a similarly fuzzy beard.
    ‘Sensei Kano is a
bōjutsu
master visiting us from the
Mugan Ryū
, our sister school in Osaka. Under his tutelage, you will learn how to defend and attack with the
bō
staff. Sensei Kano is a man of great heart and greater skill. You could not ask for a better teacher in the Art of the
Bō
.’
    Despite the new teacher’s presence dominating the dais, the immense samurai appeared to shrink under Masamoto’s praise. He gave a humble bow to the room, his smoky-grey eyes staring blankly down the hall as if he was trying to avoid