The Snake Boy positions his hand so I can see his work. He trusts me now.
“I hope you win,” I whisper.
When the kanji phrases are judged, the Snake boy gets an extra point for excellence.
“Well done.” I bow low. “I would have awarded two extra points.”
“Thank you.” The Snake boy bows lower. I’ve made another friend.
We all score a point except Taji — who knows the kanji but can’t see the page to write them on. “Did you see the updated point scores?” he asks.
“No. And neither did you,” I say. We both laugh.
“I don’t need to. I added them up in my head. You’re not the only brain around here. We’re doing okay.”
“We’re not coming last?” asks Kyoko.
“We’re in the middle,” announces Nezume.
The middle is good. It’s safe. I like the middle way.
Sensei told us about Buddha, who taught the middle way — Right Understanding, Right Thought, Right Speech, Right Action, Right Livelihood, Right Effort, Right Mindfulness, and Right Concentration. Eight things is a lot to get right all the time.
“What is the samurai way?” I asked.
“Any path that does not result in one’s head being cut off,” said Sensei. “The samurai way is much simpler.”
I like it that way, too.
The next event is swimming. We put on our armor and our battle helmets. It’s hard for Mikko. He has to use one arm to swim and swing his sword. But Mikko doesn’t give up. When he sees his opponent is a Dragon boy, he’s even more determined to win. Nezume straps Mikko’s sword to his chest. He’s determined, too.
The Striped Gecko floats on his back out to the middle of the river.
“Look! No arms!” Mikko calls as he turns to tread water.
“Poor Mikko,” I say, thinking of the embarrassment to follow.
Kyoko snaps her teeth together and wriggles her hands like a snake. “Don’t worry. He’s okay.”
Even Nezume has a knowing smile as Mikko dives underwater.
“Dragons are not good swimmers,” he says. “They are too fat. Too full of themselves.”
“Aaargh.” The Dragon boy yelps, getting pulled under with a gurgle. Mikko pops up before him, and the Dragon emerges, coughing and spluttering, to meet the point of Mikko’s sword.
“Foul!” the Dragon yells. “He tricked me. The Cockroach cheated.”
The Dragon Master agrees and storms over to the judges to protest. In blind unison, the Komusu take the rule books out from under their baskets and call Mikko over for questioning.
“What do you have to say to the Dragon’s accusations?” Number Four asks.
“I let my spirit guide me, Master.” Mikko bows low, and the Komusu nod approvingly. “My spirit totem is the lizard. Sometimes I am the Striped Gecko, but today I was a reptile monster, swimming in the river mouth. A samurai must watch what is above and what is below if he wishes a victory in battle.”
“What foolishness is this? There are no such monsters in Japan,” the Dragon Master interrupts.
“Is it being suggested a samurai’s skills are limited to Japan or to the things he knows are there?” Sensei asks, eyebrows raised like pagoda rooftops.
Nodding, the Komusu award Mikko a point. For swimming! It’s a miracle even Sensei could not have created.
Next, Yoshi is competing against a Rabbit boy. It’s an unlucky draw. The Rabbits are smart and fast, even underwater. As soon as the gong sounds, Yoshi’s opponent disappears into the river. Yoshi follows, trying to keep pace.
“I can’t see a thing,” complains Mikko. “They’re battling underwater.”
“Does it matter what we see?” asks Sensei, resting in the sun with his eyes closed.
“Of course not,” answers Taji. “Makes no difference to me at all.”
Yoshi and the Rabbit boy surface with a loud splash, swords clashing. Yoshi is strong, but the Rabbit is cunning.
“What was that?” The Rabbit boy points to us on the bank.
Yoshi spins around to check. A leader’s first responsibility is to his team. The Rabbit dives, and Yoshi sinks, spluttering. He emerges swordless. Bong-ong. The gong sounds to declare the Rabbit victory. Rabbit boy dives again and retrieves Yoshi’s sword.
“Thank you.” Yoshi tucks his sword into his sash. “Your strategy was clever. Only a Rabbit could tunnel underwater.” He climbs onto the bank and bows, wet and dripping.
“I learned from your friend.” The Rabbit boy bows, too.
“I see that the clever Cockroaches have invented a new technique for combat,” Taji comments.
“How can you see anything without eyes?” asks Nezume, bewildered.
“You’ll get used to it.” I drop my voice to whisper. “Never tell secrets near Taji. He can’t see, but he hears everything.”
“I heard that,” Taji calls.
One day he will be Komusu. He’s practicing already.
The last event is origami, an individual event, where everyone can score a point. We’re all skilled at paper folding, but anything can happen at the end of a long day. Our arms and legs are tired. Our hands are cramped and numb. I feel disappointed for Kyoko. She was determined to make the cockroach, but her crushed fingers can’t do the complicated twists and turns.
The Dragons don’t care. They crowd around, waiting to laugh when she fails. Kyoko struggles with the paper. Frustrated, she rolls it into a ball and throws it on the floor.
“Can’t you make anything? I thought you had an extra finger just for this,” jeers the kid who crushed her hand.
Kyoko rolls another ball and aims it at his head. The ball is packed solid and thrown hard. Thwack! Now I am not the only one with a flattened nose.
“She hit me,” the Dragon whines.
No one pays attention. The Komusu don’t notice. Or pretend not to. I make the White Crane. We all make our spirit guides; even Kyoko manages the Snow Monkey. Yoshi’s Tiger crouches in front, standing guard.
The Dragon students all make the same creature: the great winged dragon. Each animal is carefully folded, and every team member scores a point.
“A strong team is made up of individuals, not poor copies,” Sensei comments.
“There is no weakness in sameness. I make my students in my own image,” retorts the Dragon Master.
“Poor Dragon students. Flawed to begin with.” Sensei shakes his head.
The Dragon Master pretends not to hear, but wisps of smoke seem to escape his ears.
“I wish I had a different totem from them,” whispers Nezume.
“You were never really a Dragon,” Yoshi says. “Some spirit totems are hard to find. I found mine in the middle of an earthquake.”
“Then I’ll keep searching until I find my true totem.”
Yoshi grins. “You already have, Rat Boy. The Long-Tailed Rat is loyal, cunning, and smart. Able to guide his friends through the maze or tunnel.”
Sensei braids his beard into a thin, white rat’s tail.
Despite her pain, Kyoko folds an origami rat and hands it to Nezume. His eyes shine with pride.
“If anyone can make a cockroach, it’s you. Even with one hand,” Nezume says.
“He’s right,” Mikko agrees. “Use your left hand. It’s not hard to do things one-handed. I do it all the time.”
Kyoko hugs them both. Balancing her hand against the bench, she twists the paper. Slowly. Painfully. It’s going to take a long time. If a river can carve a tunnel, then Kyoko can fold a cockroach.
“That’s real courage,” I hear a Snake boy whisper.
“Look how clever her fingers are,” says a Boar boy.
Eventually the Cockroach takes its place with our spirit totems. Beside them, a skinny stick-figure man waves his staff.
“Two extra points are awarded,” Number One announces. “The Cockroach student has made a perfect paper trilogy — her self, her ryu team, and her master.”
The Dragon Master rolls his ey
es, but he doesn’t argue. He’s lost interest in everything except the moment when the trophy rests in his hands. It won’t be long now.
Dong. Dong. Dong. The gong sounds three times to end the final event. It’s time for the winner to be announced. A noisy mass of samurai kids make their way to the judges’ dais. The Dragons push their way through to the front. Moving aside, other schools let the winners through.
Sensei leads us to a vantage spot at the edge of the Eagles.
“I want to see this,” he says.
I don’t. Who wants to watch the Dragons smirk and show off? Not me.
Silence falls with a loud thud. The Komusu take their seats on the dais, then Number One rises to speak, the last words he will utter until next year.
Victory on his lips, the Dragon Master smiles broadly.
“We have a tie,” Number One says. “The Dragons and the Cockroaches each have twenty-five points.”
The Dragon Master glares. Other masters and their students stand open-mouthed and amazed. The Cockroaches have equaled the mighty Dragons! My crutch clatters to the floor as surprise catches me off balance. Everyone looks, but this time no one laughs. For once, they all wish they were me.
Fidgeting on one leg, I try to wait patiently while the Komusu judges decide our fate.
“They should let the Dragons keep the trophy. They’re the current champions. No one has ever beaten them,” a Wolf boy whispers.
“I want the Cockroaches to win. Those Dragons are mean and cruel. They don’t deserve a trophy,” murmurs an Eagle boy.
“It’s embarrassing to be beaten by a bunch of bugs,” says a Bear boy. Other kids mutter in agreement. No one minds losing to the great and mighty Dragons.
I’m so nervous that the goldfish in my stomach are swimming in circles, butting heads with one another. In my heart the White Crane flutters and beats its wings against my chest until it’s hard to breathe.
Mumbling voices trail into silence, thick and suffocating. I want to scream out loud. Sensei looks at me as if I did, placing his fingers on his lips. I take a deep breath and the White Crane folds its wings to wait.
You cannot rush old men. The Komusu, like Sensei, stopped keeping time decades ago. Number One presses his palms together and lowers his basket-covered head. “Om, om,” he chants softly from beneath the tightly woven bamboo.
“Om, om,” the others drone in chorus.
My ear itches until I stick my finger in it and jiggle. Then my nose twitches. I can’t stick my finger up there. Not with everyone watching. So I wriggle my nostrils and struggle not to sneeze. Remembering something Uma taught me, I snort backward. Like a horse. A Dragon kid elbows his friend in the ribs and points at me. I sound ridiculous. They snicker loudly, but today I don’t care. I check that the Komusu are not looking, then stick out my tongue.
In front of the dais, where the Komusu sit in judgment, the Dragon Master paces backward and forward. His red silk cape billows behind him, fanning out to display a gold embroidered dragon. Fire spews from its angry mouth.
“See how magnificent his cloak is,” the Wolf Master sighs in admiration.
“Yes,” Sensei agrees. “There is a lot of hot air blowing out from undeneath.”
His whispers echo loudly in the silence. A giggle flows through the crowd, gathering momentum until it reaches the Dragon Master. He turns and fixes Sensei with his fiery gaze. Sensei smiles and waves.
Dong-ong-ong.
A decision has been made.
“The ryu captains will determine a tie-breaker event,” Number One announces.
Poor Yoshi. It’s all up to him, and he can’t even ask Sensei for help.
But Yoshi doesn’t look concerned. He looks like the Cockroach that swallowed the Dragon.
“The Cockroaches will suggest the event, but the final decision will rest with the Dragons, who are the current champions,” Number One continues.
The Dragon Master’s face is a smug grin. He thinks it’s all over, but Sensei is smiling. That means there’s hope for us yet. A smile is the best disguise for an assassin. A samurai smiles when he has decided how many pieces to chop from his enemy. The Dragon Master is big and strong. It will take a lot of chopping to bring him down, but Sensei is an expert swordsman and his blade is the best Onaku ever made.
Number One motions for Yoshi to speak.
“I suggest one event, in which three selected team members will compete.” Yoshi’s voice booms loud and clear. It’s the voice of a leader, a chopper of Dragons. “The event should be fought according to the Samurai Code so that Bushido determines the winner. The Dragons may choose the event.”
My heart sinks. I can’t believe my ears. Yoshi is letting the Dragons decide. They’ll pick sword fighting. They’ve never lost a match.
The Dragon captain can’t believe his ears either.
“I accept the Cockroach’s suggestion. I choose sword fighting,” he says.
The priests nod and bob in agreement. Number One claps his hands to seal our fate. We don’t stand a chance of winning now. We’re dead fish. We’ll stink like dokudami.
But when I look at Sensei, he’s grinning wider than his face. The Dragon Master is watching Sensei, too. He senses danger, but he can’t see it. Neither can I. Sensei is really ancient, and the trek to the temple was difficult. Maybe he’s gone crazy with old age. Maybe that’s why he’s smiling like a lunatic.
“Choose your competitors,” Number Two instructs.
“I choose Mikko, Niya, and Taji,” says Yoshi, pointing to each of us in turn.
I shake my head in disbelief. Yoshi is crazy, too.
Smirking, the Dragon captain nominates his team members. Big, strong kids with huge Cockroach-stomping feet. We haven’t got a hope, so why are Sensei and Yoshi grinning like idiots? I look at Mikko, but he shrugs. I look at Kyoko, and she raises her eyebrows.
“Before we begin, there will be a reading of the Samurai Code.” Number One takes his seat as Number Three rises, pulling a scroll from under his basket.
“I have no body; I make Stoicism my Body.
I have no eyes; I make the Flash of Lightning my Eyes.
I have no ears; I make Perceptiveness my Ears.
I have no limbs; I make Decisiveness my Limbs . . .”
On and on the Komusu priest drones, but I’ve stopped listening. No eyes. No legs. No arms.
Finally, I understand. Now a big grin spreads across my face. Who can fight best without arms, legs, and eyes? Us. We were born to fight with parts missing.
Number Three finishes reading and sits down.
“What does it mean?” the Snake Master wonders aloud.
His face like a storm cloud, the Dragon Master understands. The smiling samurai assassin knows where to place his sword, and Yoshi has placed it hard against the Dragon’s throat. He’s left them no room to move at all.
Number Four places a blindfold over Taji’s eyes. The Dragon boy is blindfolded too. Unlike Taji, he looks confused and wary. Taji stands serene and still. In his heart the Golden Bat has woken from sleep and is listening carefully. Number Two sounds the gong. Neither boy moves, until the Dragon twitches his left foot. Taji strikes fast. Blind eyes like lightning. His sword point slices the Dragon’s kimono sash.
The first tie-breaker point is ours!
Next, Number Four binds up a Dragon’s leg. It’s my turn in the ring. The Dragon boy hops forward, falling flat on his face at my foot. I don’t laugh. I know how it feels. Instead, I offer my hand to help him up, to let him know it doesn’t matter. His face red with anger and embarrassment, he shoves my arm aside. As soon as he is on his feet, he swipes recklessly at my face. It’s an easy block for me. One clash and he falls over. I make an easy strike.
Another point!
The priest ties back a Dragon’s arm. It’s one of the boys who injured Mikko years ago, when he studied at the Dragon Ryu. Mikko points his sword straight at the boy’s neck. When Sensei coughs, Mikko lowers his blade.
It’s har
d to swing a sword with one arm, but Mikko’s weapon was specially crafted by Master Onaku. It sings as it slices across the dragon head on his opponent’s vest.
The gong sounds for the final time. We’ve won every point!
“Yah!” Nezume yells, jumping into the air.
“Yah, yah!” I mimic. We all jump high. No one is laughing at us now. Everyone is cheering. Everyone except the Dragons.
The Dragon Master is livid. He storms onto the dais. He takes the trophy from beside Number One and raises it high.
“This belongs to the Dragon Ryu!” he shouts. “The Cockroach Ryu cheated. They tricked us into fighting an unfair battle.”
Sensei steps forward. “Was the battle any different from the one my students have always fought? Have my students cried ‘Unfair!’ when they fought against two arms, two legs, and two eyes? Bushido has been honored.”
“I say it has not!” shouts the Dragon.
“Is the Dragon Master calling Ki-Yaga a cheat?” Sensei’s voice is soft, more menacing than any bellow.
“I am.” The Dragon places his hand on the hilt of his sword.
Sensei looks toward Number One. A samurai must defend his name. His sword and his name are his most valuable possessions. I wish there was another way, but the Komusu are nodding. It’s too late to go back.
“Do you challenge the Cockroach Master?” Number One asks the Dragon.
“I do.” The Dragon Master bows. “When I win, I will take the trophy, which never rightfully belonged to the Cockroach, and I will claim back the boy Nezume. No Dragon will study at the Cockroach Ryu ever again.” He glares at Mikko.
“I accept the challenge terms.” Sensei bows too, barely bending at the middle. A samurai is always polite, even when there is no respect. “Sometimes a samurai must fight, even if he does not want to,” Sensei says, looking at Yoshi. Even now, Ki-Yaga is teaching.
A fight between samurai masters is a fight to the death. Sensei is a skinny old man with chopstick legs and arms. The Dragon Master is younger, and strong. It’s going to be a massacre; the Dragon Master doesn’t stand a chance.
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