“I will give you my finest sword. However, I wish you would reconsider your feelings about the Tokugawas. A sword is not just an instrument for killing. It should be an instrument of righteousness. Do you know the story of the blade of Okazaki Masamune and that of his pupil, Muramasa?”
“No, Kannemori Sensei, I don’t.”
“As you know, Okazaki Masamune-san was a master swordsmith who worked in Kamakura several hundred years ago. His forge was just in the next valley, as a matter of fact. I consider Masamune-san to be one of the finest swordsmiths ever. Today his blades are valued above all others as reflections of the swordsmith’s art. What isn’t commonly known is that his pupil, Muramasa, was perhaps an even finer craftsman, looking at his blades from a purely technical standpoint.
“One day a Lord who owned both a Masamune-san blade and a blade by his pupil, Muramasa, decided to test them. Now, the standard way to test a blade is to use it to execute a condemned prisoner or to cut at the body of an already killed prisoner. This Lord, however, decided to try a new kind of test.
“He took the two blades to a swiftly moving stream and thrust the pupil Muramasa’s blade into the rapidly flowing water. It was the month of no Gods, and in the water were many fallen leaves. As the leaves touched the edge of the Muramasa blade, the edge was so keen that the leaves were all cut in two, just from their contact with the sword. The Lord was then curious to see if Masamune-san’s blade was as sharp, so he removed the pupil’s blade from the water and replaced it with the master’s blade.”
“And was it as sharp?” Kaze asked.
“The Lord never found out,” Kannemori answered. “When he put Masamune-san’s blade in the water, he was amazed to see that the leaves in the water avoided the blade, keeping away from the sharp edge. You see, the pupil’s sword was a wonderful weapon, with as keen an edge as can be imagined. But this weapon was just a weapon. Masamune-san’s blade was more than a weapon. It was an expression of Masamune-san’s spirit, a spirit intent on righteousness, not just killing. The result was that even the leaves wanted to avoid the sharp edge of the sword.”
Kannemori reached over and moved the purple bundle between himself and the samurai. He slowly unwrapped the bundle, revealing a katana and a wakizashi, the long and short swords of the samurai. The swords were in plain black-lacquer scabbards. The tsuba had a pattern of swirling water curled into a wave, the foaming edges of the wave picked out in silver. This tsuba was appropriate for a ronin samurai, for ronin meant “wave man.”
“These are the weapons I have chosen for you,” Kannemori said. “They are the finest swords I have ever made. I’ve never been able to repeat their quality, although I’ve tried many times. I have kept them for many years, waiting for the proper owner to appear. You are that owner. If you put them into a stream, unfortunately you will find that the leaves will not avoid them. When they touch the edge, however, the leaves will be cut in two. With this sword I captured the technical prowess of Muramasa, but I lack the spirit of Masamune-san. I’m hopeful that you will be able to endow these weapons with some of your spirit. I know that spirit is strong, or the Sensei would not have had the affection he had for you.” Kannemori bowed, then slid the bundle toward Kaze.
Kaze also bowed, then picked up the wakizashi and placed it in front of Kannemori. “I’m sorry, Kannemori Sensei, but I can only accept the katana. When I accepted the task of finding the Lady’s daughter, she took my wakizashi, the samurai’s keeper of honor, and said my honor belonged to her until I finished my task.”
Kannemori accepted the short sword back. “I understand,” he said. “I’ll keep this, and when you redeem your honor, you can come and get it from me. In the meantime, it will remind me of who has my masterwork.”
“Thank you, Kannemori Sensei.”
“Do you want to see how the katana feels?” Kannemori asked.
“I’m sure it’s fine.”
“Nonsense! Please don’t be shy. Take it outside and try it for feel and balance.”
Kaze did as he was directed, and the swordsmith followed him outside. In front of the house, Kaze removed the blade from the scabbard, noting with satisfaction that the scabbard had a ko-gatana knife embedded in it.
The blade felt marvelously light and lively as Kaze tried different grips and positions. The highly polished blade caught the late-afternoon sun, reflecting fiery flashes across the gray wooden walls of the house. Suddenly, Kaze saw a large fly buzzing by. With a quick flick of his wrist, the blade snaked out and the fly was cut in two.
Kannemori gave a cry of surprise and bent down to retrieve the pieces of the fly. Looking at his palm, he could see the fly was sliced cleanly in half. “Well, that little trick has named your sword. It didn’t have a name before, but now I think it shall be called Fly Cutter! Prince Yamatotakeru had a sword called Kusanagi no Tsurugi, the Grass-Cutting Sword, because he used it to mow down grass and escape when rebels set fire to a field. It’s fitting that you have a similar name for your weapon, after such a display.”
“Tell me,” Kannemori said, giving Kaze a big grin, “was that skill or practice?”
“Merely practice,” Kaze acknowledged.
“Still,” Kannemori said, looking at the two insect pieces in his hand, “that is an incredible way to test this blade.”
CHAPTER 15
Happy warrior!
So favored by the war Gods
that seas will recede.
Kaze walked down the pathway, lighting his way with a paper lantern Kannemori had given him. The lantern was at the end of a stick of wood, allowing Kaze to lower the lantern close to his feet to illuminate the path with the pale yellow light that filtered through its square paper sides. There was a full moon, but the lantern was a welcome aid as Kaze walked paths not completely familiar to him. He passed Gokurakuji, or the Temple of Paradise, and he knew he was coming up to Inamuragasaki Point. To the eyes of the people who named it, this point resembled the stacks of rice straw seen at harvest time all over Japan.
He had enjoyed a delicious dinner at the swordsmith’s and left with his new weapon. He had discreetly given the remaining gold coins he got from Hishigawa to Kannemori’s wife right before he left, not wanting to insult the master swordsmith by engaging in commerce with him.
Taking the lantern Kannemori had given him to illuminate his journey home, Kaze had headed toward the sea instead of back toward Hishigawa’s villa.
Kaze walked to the edge of the cliff at Inamuragasaki Point and stopped. Looking down at the rolling black water that surrounded the base of the cliff, he stood for a moment, gaining a sense of the place and a feeling for its history and importance.
Looking out at Sagami Bay, he took out the cherry blossom sword that had been stuck in his sash along with his new sword, the Fly Cutter. He held Ishibashi’s sword in both hands for a few minutes and, overcome by the place and its past, he recited some of the story of Nitta Yoshisada.
“Nitta ascended to the summit of the cliff, the pale moonlight casting dark shadows on the rocks and crannies that gave him precarious purchase for his hands and feet. At the summit he looked down and saw the enemy encampment. To the far north the kiridoshi, or pass, leading into Kamakura was steep and forbidding. A dark fortress stood brooding over this gateway to the city, and, from the fires of the encampment near the fortress, he could see that warriors numbering in the tens of thousands were waiting for his army to act foolishly and attack.
“Below him the salty sea lapped at the base of the cliffs. On the narrow strip of sand that acted as the buffer between earth and water, a barricade had been constructed. And in the deep water just off the cliffs, countless warships filled with archers were ready. To make an assault along the beach in order to breach the defenses of Kamakura and take the town would be as suicidal as an assault from the north, through the pass.