“I know, I know. But then there is this.”
Nyoko took a feather sticking out of the pillowcase and placed it on her open palm. She closed her eyes and concentrated. Slowly, the feather lifted from her palm and hovered above it. Daichi smiled, and playfully blew the feather in Nyoko’s face. Nyoko laughed, but not for long. Her nose started bleeding. A thin red drop traveled down her lips, to the chin.
“Honey, don’t waste your energy! That was reckless!” He pulled a piece of tissue from his pocket and wiped the blood off her face. “You better lie down.”
Nyoko obeyed. Holding the tissue to her nose, she whispered, “I cannot afford you losing faith. Roo-Ma counts on us.”
“I know. Please forgive me. I will talk to the sensei and convince him to take us as his students.”
“Do you think he can teach us to follow Mushin?”
“We did the research. We can’t be sure, but the fact that he is the ancestor of the great Ito Ittosai, the founder of the Ono-Ha Itto-Ryu school, is encouraging.”
“You are right. Maybe Mushin brought us here. Maybe we are in just the right place.”
“I hope so. I am afraid our time is running out.”
“Don’t say that, dear…”
“Nyoko, it is true. We walked into the Mushin river unprepared, we swam in it, and now its piranhas are eating us alive!”
Nyoko started crying.
“All I really want is for this road we’ve taken not to be a waste. I want to bring Roo-Ma back.”
***
Another few months had passed. Hideyo Ittosai agreed to teach Nyoko and Daichi and kept marveling at their zeal for knowledge. They worked harder than any of his experienced students, they listened to every word. And even though they clearly lacked the physical conditioning, required of a kenjutsuka, there was something about them, something intuitive about how they understood the discipline. They clearly had the ki.
After one of the trainings, sensei Ittosai invited the two for dinner. Daichi and Nyoko cleaned up and walked through a sliding door into a traditional Japanese room with tatami mats on the floor, a low table and cushions in the middle.
Sensei was expecting them. The meal was already served. Nyoko and Daichi politely bowed and took their places at the table.
“How is your training going?” asked sensei to break their shyness.
“Good.”
“Very good.”
“That’s good to hear. Are you getting what you expected from it?”
“Yes.”
“I think so.”
“Maybe.”
Sensei laughed.
“You don’t seem too sure about it. What is your goal anyway?”
The kids looked at each other but were hesitant to speak.
“Ok, I’ve had it with you. You train as if your life depends on it. Don’t get me wrong, I love your dedication. But kenjutsu is a path of a lifetime. You need to pace yourself.”
“We don’t have much time…” mumbled Daichi. Nyoko gave him a restraining look.
“You are young, kids. You have all the time you need.”
The silence was too overwhelming to ignore. Sensei realized that something serious indeed was going on between the two.
“Alright. I will open you a secret. The window you’ve broken… It was a cheap replica. I just wanted to teach you a lesson. Plus, I wanted to hire some maintenance people anyway. I’ve been saving your salary since day one. Look! It’s yours! You can go if you want.” With those words, sensei extracted a wad of cash and placed it on the table before the two. The look of genuine surprise and shock washed over their faces.
“Sensei, you want us to leave?” Nyoko sounded mortified.
“You can stay if you want. But I need to know the truth.”
Nyoko decided to speak up.
“Sensei, there is nothing strange about us. We just want to train. We love it so much.”
“Right, Nyoko is right,” agreed Daichi.
“Alright then. Let’s eat and I will tell you a few stories.” Sensei passed the plates and loaded his. “This temple is very old and special. I believe you know that much. A lot of energy is concentrated here, powerful energy. It helps a warrior to find his ki.”
“We’ve read about it.”
“On Wikipedia.”
Sensei smiled.
“I see. So what do you know about Ito Ittosai?”
“Everything!” exclaimed Daichi. “His ki was strong! He was the greatest warrior.”
“Yes! He knew how to walk the rivers of Mushin…”
“… and stay safe…” added Daichi bitterly.
“Oh, I see you’ve done your homework. Ito Ittosai was a legend. He discovered that with a lot of training and mental discipline he could transcend the traditional kumitashi. Once he was attacked in sleep, and he reacted instantaneously. He overcame several of his attackers without thinking, subconsciously. When he analyzed that fight, he realized that something other than the pure skill of a samurai was at work. He called it Mushin.”
“Yes, sensei, we have read about it!”
“There are some things that are not mentioned on Wikipedia. Ito Ittosai was the son of the greatest samurai of Shōgun Tokugawa Ieyasu himself!”
“Oh wow, we did not know that.”
“There is more. In 1604, a Portuguese merchant named Jose Brito arrived in Japan and became friends with Tokugawa. He promised to create him an army of unstoppable samurai, if Tokugawa followed some simple conditions. One of them was to restrict other foreigners from the Japanese lands, and to keep that fact a secret. I bet you didn’t know that.”
“We had no idea…” agreed Daichi.
“Tokugawa thought that Jose Brito knew witchcraft or was talking to the gods. He knew deep secrets of the universe and could make amazing predictions. The wealth of his knowledge was beyond anything any human on Earth could know at that time.”
Nyoko’s eyes got big and Daichi gasped for air. Daichi whispered to Nyoko.
“He knows! I think he knows!”
Sensei had a sly look on his face, but he continued.
“Well, somehow Jose Brito knew which warriors had ki and which didn’t. He told Tokugawa that sometimes ki transfers from a parent to a child, but it needs proper training to flourish. It is also a dangerous gift because it can make the warrior sick. In order to leave no traces to the project, Jose Brito suggested a new rule should be added to the samurai code of honor. Any samurai who became sick was considered a disgrace to the Shōgun and needed to take his life honorably. This was a useful ploy because it left no traces of the experiments.”
The kids listened with their mouths open.
“Well, fascinating, isn’t it?” asked the sensei. “That’s it for that story. But you haven’t eaten your meal. I have some beautiful artefacts in this temple. There is something I’d like to show you. I’ll leave you for a minute while you are finishing your meal.”
The two nodded and sensei left the room.
“He knows! We have to tell him!” urged Daichi.
“Maybe you are right… How long can we do it on our own? We really have no idea how to operate the oscillation gene.”
“Shhhh! He’s coming…”
Sensei walked in with a large porcelain saucer in his hands.
“Look!” he exclaimed. “This saucer is 400 years old! It depicts 24 most famous Tokugawa’s samurai. The Smithsonian museum in America offered me three million dollars for it!”
“Oh my god!” exclaimed Daichi. “Seriously? And you just walk around with it?”
“Yeah, why not. I’m a kenjutsuka. My coordination is impeccable. Here, take a look, it’s Ito Ittosai!” The sensei passed the saucer to Daichi but it was heavier than Daichi expected and it fell straight to the floor, crashing into three big chunks.
; Daichi and Nyoko screamed in shock. Nyoko closed her eyes with her palms and accidentally wished the saucer would put itself back together. And in that instant, the chunks of the saucer drew to each other like magnets, and the whole saucer jumped back into sensei’s hands.
“What did you do, Nyoko?” screamed Daichi, but Nyoko shuddered and fell to the ground.
A thin line of blood started running from her nose.
“Oh dear!” exclaimed sensei. “How long has she been using ki?”
“She will come to her senses momentarily. So, you knew!”
“I suspected. I’ve trained fighters all my life and have not seen such intuitive ability in such weak, untrained bodies. I knew it must be it!”
Nyoko opened her eyes, Daichi helped her to get up.
“How are you?”
“I… am alright. A bit dizzy. Did I just? Oh no…”
“He tricked us, Nyoko. He knew.”
“Suspected!” corrected sensei. “But my suspicion proved to be true.”
“Oh no…” Nyoko felt so foolish. “That wasn’t an ancient expensive saucer, was it?”
“I’m afraid not. It’s from the gift shop.”
***
An hour later, Hideyo Ittosai was still listening to the fascinating story being recounted by these two ordinary Japanese young adults, whose life had been turned upside down by the discovery of their ancestry. Everything was fitting together like a puzzle. For Hideyo Ittosai it confirmed his suspicions that Jose Brito had not been human after all. However, he had previously hoped him to be a more benevolent creature. When he learned about the ruthless murder of the woman named Fah, because she had come too close to the secret of Brito’s true identity, Hideyo grieved. “The faith of our ancestors was right. Ki is everywhere. It is in every particle of living and inanimate objects. This potential is within us. Gods are not what we used to think…”
“Sensei, you must help us to direct our ki to save Fah, just like I fixed that broken saucer...” bleated Nyoko.
“Oh dear kids, I hope you realize that you are risking your life. Our secret scrolls mention certain powerful kumitashi that could bring a dead person to life. They were practiced by the samurai to protect the Shōgun’s life during the battle. But these mental routines take so much ki, that the ones who perform them must give every last drop of it.”
“Sensei.” Daichi respectfully stopped him. “We know. Fah had a lot of research. While she was working on the project with the wealthy pharmaceutical tycoon, she had plenty of resources. We don’t know the exact kumitashi that must be practiced, but we do know that they would take a huge strain on the body. If I understand correctly, it is as if our bodies receive a lethal dose of chemicals or radiation, I’m not sure exactly.”
“Well, there is more to that. The kumitashi itself requires both samurai to die simultaneously. And since you will drain your ki to zero, you won’t be able to save yourself. Have you heard of kiri-otoshi?”
“Of course. That’s the technique that made Ono-Ha Itto-Ryu school so famous.”
“Well, the technique that we are talking about is based on that move. Two samurai face each other and approach at the same time. While in kiri-otoshi one samurai prevails, in aiuchi both samurai fall.”
Nyoko and Daichi grabbed hands. They knew that performing such complicated oscillation they will die from the various ailments, but they did not expect to kill each other in real life. “So, what do we do now?” asked Daichi of Nyoko.
“We train even more vigorously than before.”
Year 2047.
Osaka. Japan.
Ono-Ha Itto-Ryu Kenjutsu Temple
Another year had passed. Nyoko and Daichi had both changed beyond recognition. Not an ounce of fat was left on them, only lean muscle and flexible joints. On that Saturday, the two were receiving an unprecedented honor: black belts. It normally took years for any other student to achieve the black belt, but Daichi and Nyoko were anything but normal. Ki was percolating in them. The two communicated without words. Their reaction was so fast that during the fight even the sensei could not tell who scored the point. And for the most part, Daichi and Nyoko were exactly even. They were like two pieces of one puzzle, and if their lot in life was to fight another enemy, they would have been unstoppable.
But they had to fight each other, and to the death.
The students in the temple greeted Daichi and Nyoko with a celebratory parade of their skills, but the centerpiece of the display were Daichi and Nyoko themselves. Their black belt performance blew everyone’s minds. According to Ito Ittosai, samurai had to grow in ki all their life, learning the techniques until they became ingrained in them and they could improvise. Daichi and Nyoko transcended those techniques. They fluently spoke the language of katana.
After the ceremony, Daichi and Nyoko went for a walk to the river. As proper samurai, they had their two swords with them, tucked behind their belts. It was spring, and the air was intoxicatingly fresh. Everything blossomed. The two walked along the river hand in hand, not saying a word. They were overwhelmed with everything: the belt, the spring, and their love, all mixed in their hearts in a crazy cocktail that made them feel drunk on life. And yet, the time was approaching when they would have to give it up.
Neither regretted their decision, but that realization made every living breath more special.
They sat down under an old cherry tree. The grass under it was fresh. The sky had a surreal color to it: blue mixed with light pink and lilac, so tender and so vivid, as if created it with water colors.
The two looked at each other and they knew.
If there was ever a good time for two young people, madly in love, to end their life, it had to be then. The two cried silently, kissed and smiled. And cried again. Until the tears were all out, and kisses were no more. There were only melancholic smiles.
“I love you, Nyoko. Always. Forever. In any universe.”
Nyoko was all choked up. She hugged Daichi really tight and whispered something in his ear, something that only the two of them knew.
Then it was time to fight.
The two warriors put every emotion behind them and only saw a fierce enemy in each other. Their faces – until this moment so filled with love and longing for each other - were now mental shields. Their katanas were drawn and they clashed, slicing the air with a sibilant hiss.
Attack - block - attack - block.
Slice – cut – slice – cut.
Blood dripped from the multiple small cuts, and their kimonos turned into rags. All a raw bloody mess, neither of the samurai could strike a victorious move. It was obvious that aiuchi was meant for these two equally strong and skilled samurai, where neither would accept defeat, and no options of a draw were available. When it was time for aiuchi, both knew it.
The two took a few steps away, readied themselves and screamed their final war cry:
“For Fah!”
“For Fah!”
And pierced through each other’s hearts.
Year 2045.
Tokyo, Japan.
Something imperceptible caused Fah to open her eyes. She looked to her right side and saw Veronica Starr, wrapped in a white sheet, like a feather fallen from an angel’s wing. She was peacefully sleeping. Fah’s heart skipped several beats in a row, then went racing as if catching up. Very quietly, Fah exited the bedroom and went to the small kitchenette to make a cup of coffee. The burner stove made a small whistle, which oddly reminded her the sound of katana. She scooped the ground beans, added them to an old-fashioned pot, and filled the pot with water. As the coffee simmered, Fah watched the bubbles forming shapes. They looked like two samurai dancing in a deadly fight. Transfixed with the dance of the coffee crema, she again overlooked it and it spilled up over the stove. Managing to save a good portion of it, Fah filled two cups and returned to the bedroom.
Back in the bedroom, Veronica was propped up on the pillows, still wrapped in the sheets, with a completely charmed smile over her face. Fah couldn’t quite believe the transformation in the previously perpetually stoic and business-oriented woman she’d known for some time.
“How did you sleep, sunshine?” asked Veronica in an unusually husky raspy voice.
“Good. You?” Fah felt completely out of her element. Seeing Veronica all smiles and warmth threw her social radar. What was she supposed to do next? Get back in bed? Kiss her? Or too much too soon? Just play it cool, she thought, when Veronica got up and, losing her sheets, approached her.
“Coffee. Thank you! Love it. This is how I want to wake up with you every morning. Except we will be taking turns on making coffee.”
“Every morning?”
“Yeah. Unless you have someone else on your heart and this was just a comfort fling for you.”
“N-No, no no, who me? No…”
“Okay then!” laughed Veronica. “Get back in bed.”
Fah obeyed like a puppy. Veronica indulgently sipped her coffee. Fah looked at her slightly surprised.
“Aren’t you going to ask for sugar, or cream, or soi milk, or whatever?”
“Nah. I don’t need such nonsense.”
Fah’s heart melted. Finally someone who understood coffee!
Veronica continued her gleeful chatter. “I had everything planned, but you woke up first and kinda ruined it.”
“What did you plan?”
“I was going to sneak out early, go home, change, order us a table in some nice upscale restaurant. I’d meet you there for breakfast. But most importantly, I wanted to arrange your security for the time being, until you decide what you want to do with the Project.”
“Yeah, security…”
“Sorry for bringing it up. My official response to you is to stay with Nakamura, that he will protect you, that the project is too important.”
“And unofficial?”
“We live only once. And I can’t afford losing you. Not now. Not anymore.”
329 Years Awake Page 19