"Wake him up. Let's teach him a lesson."
"What do you have in mind?"
"Isn't Monkey the only one who hasn't once gone to martial-arts practice?"
"That's probably because he knows he's not well liked. He's afraid of getting hit."
"That's not right. It's the duty of all the servants of a warrior house to train hard in the martial arts. That's what it says in the household regulations."
"You don't have to tell me. Tell Monkey."
"I say we wake him up and take him to the practice field."
"Yeah, that'd be interesting."
One of the men struck Hiyoshi's shoulder with the point of his spear.
"Hey, wake up!"
Hiyoshi's eyes stayed shut.
"Wake up!" The man lifted Hiyoshi's feet with his spear. Hiyoshi slipped down the tree trunk and awoke with a start.
"What are you doing?" he asked.
"What do you think you're doing, snoring away in the garden in broad daylight?"
"Me, sleeping?"
"Well, weren't you?"
"Maybe I fell asleep without meaning to. I'm awake now though."
"Impertinent little ass! I've heard that you haven't spent one single day at martial-arts practice."
"That's because I'm no good."
"If you never practice, how do you know? Even though you're a servant, the household regulations say you have to practice the martial arts. From today on, we'll see that you practice."
"No, thanks."
"Are you refusing to obey the household regulations?"
"No, but—"
"Come on, let's go!" Allowing no further protest, they dragged Hiyoshi forcibly to the field in front of the storehouse. They were going to teach him a lesson for disobeying the household regulations.
Under the burning sky, the visiting martial artists and the Matsushita retainers were training hard.
The young samurai who had brought Hiyoshi urged him forward with hard blows to the back.
"Get yourself a wooden sword or spear and fight!"
Hiyoshi tottered forward, barely able to stand, but he did not pick up a weapon.
"What are you waiting for?" One man gave him a sharp rap on the chest with his spear. "We're going to give you some practice, so get a weapon!" Hiyoshi staggered forward again but still would not fight. He just chewed his lip obstinately.
Two of Shohaku's men, Jingo Gorokuro and Sakaki Ichinojo, were having a trial of strength with real spears in response to a request from the Matsushita men. Gorokuro, who wore a headband, was spearing two-hundred-pound rice bags and flinging them in the air in a show of apparently superhuman strength.
"With that kind of skill, it must be easy to fly at a man on the battlefield. His strength is astonishing!" said one of the spectators.
Gorokuro corrected him. "If you men think this is a technique of strength, you're badly mistaken. If you put strength into this technique, the shaft of the spear will break and your arms will quickly get tired." He put his spear aside and explained, "The principles of the sword and the spear are the same. The secret of all the martial arts is in the ch'i, the subtle energy of the tan t'ien, the area two inches below the navel. This is strength without strength. One must have the mental power to transcend the need for strength and regulate the flow of ch'i ." He lectured with enthusiasm and at length.
Deeply impressed, his audience listened attentively, until they were disturbed by a noise behind them.
"You obstinate monkey!" The young samurai swung the handle of his spear, hitting Hiyoshi in the hip.
"Ow!" yelled Hiyoshi in a tearful voice. The blow had obviously hurt. He screwed up his face and doubled over, rubbing his hip. The group broke up and re-formed around Hiyoshi.
"Lazy good-for-nothing!" yelled the man who had struck Hiyoshi. "He says he's no good and doesn't want to come to practice."
Hiyoshi found himself the center of a grumbling crowd, accused of being unrepentant and insolent.
"Well, well," said Shohaku, coming forward and calming them down. "Judging from appearances, he's still just a suckling, at an age when impertinence blooms. Flouting the household regulations while in the employ of a warrior house and having no taste for the martial arts is this fellow's misfortune. I'll do the questioning. The rest of you be quiet.
"Young man," he said to Hiyoshi.
"Yes." Hiyoshi looked straight at Shohaku as he answered. But his tone of voice had changed, for the look in his questioner's eyes said that Shohaku was the kind of man to whom he could speak freely.
"It seems you dislike the martial arts, even though you're employed in a warrior house. Is this true?"
"No." Hiyoshi shook his head.
"Then why, when these retainers kindly offer to drill you in the martial arts, do you not take them up on it?"
"Yes, well, there's a reason for that. If I were to discipline myself in the way of the spear or sword and became an expert, it would probably take up my entire life."
"Yes, you must have that kind of spirit."
"It isn't that I dislike either spear or sword, but when I consider that I won't be able to live more than one normal lifespan, I think it's probably enough to know only the spirit of these things. The reason is that there are so many other things that I would like to study and do."
"What would you like to study?"
"Learning."
"What would you like to learn?"
"About the whole world."
"What are the things you'd like to do?"
Hiyoshi smiled. "That I won't say."
"Why not?"
"I want to do things, but unless I do them, talking about them will only sound like boasting. And if I talked about them out loud, you'd all just laugh."
Shohaku stared at Hiyoshi, thinking how unusual he was. "I think I understand a little of what you say, but you're mistaken about the martial arts being the practice of small techniques."
"What are they, then?"
"According to one school of thought, when a person has learned a single skill, he will have mastered all the arts. The martial arts are not simply techniques—they are of the mind. If one cultivates the mind deeply, one is able to penetrate everything, including the arts of learning and government, see the world for what it is, and judge people."
"But I'll bet the people here consider striking and piercing their opponents as the best art of all. That should be useful for a foot soldier or the ordinary rank and file, but would it be essential for a great general who—"
"Watch your mouth!" scolded one of the samurai, landing a solid punch on Hiyoshi's cheek.
"Ow!" Hiyoshi put both hands over his mouth as though his jaw had been broken.
"These insulting remarks cannot be ignored. This is getting to be a habit. Master Shohaku, please withdraw. We'll take care of this."
The resentment was widespread. Almost all those who had heard Hiyoshi had something to say.
"He insulted us!"
"It's the same as mocking the household regulations!"
"Inexcusable ass!"
"Cut him down! The master won't blame us for it."
In their anger, it seemed they might carry out their threat, dragging him into the thicket and cutting his head off there and then. It was difficult for Shohaku to stop them. It took all his strength to calm them down and save Hiyoshi's life.
That evening, Nohachiro came to the servants' quarters and called softly to Hiyoshi who was sitting all alone in a corner, making a face as though he had a toothache.
"Yes. What is it?" His face was badly swollen.
"Does it hurt?"
"No, not much," he lied. He pressed the damp towel to his face.
"The master has asked for you. Go through the rear garden so that you won't be seen."