rigorous training was beginning to take its toll even on his unusual constitution. He was exhausted and his technique was suffering as a result. Unfortunately, it didn’t look like Hikari had any intention of finishing the session any time soon.
Hikari stroked his goatee thoughtfully. “What you must remember, Sam, is that it is not one foe you will be facing. On most occasions, you will be fighting tens, possibly hundreds of opponents at once. You must learn to attack and defend at once. Even while striking out, you must remember to protect yourself at all times.”
Sam nodded slowly, not really understanding. His blade couldn’t be everywhere at once. Sure, he knew he was fast, but nobody was that fast.
“But how am I meant to do that, Sensei?” he said, feeling frustration building. He kept his anger under wraps though, unwilling to show Hikari any loss of control.
Hikari bent down to the bag beside him, his face lost in the flickering shadows created by the three kerosene torches scattered around the training area. He fumbled around in the bag before finally finding what he was after. Straightening up with a satisfied grunt, he held Sam’s wakizashi in one hand. The wakizashi was the partner to the sword Sam held in his own hand — the short to complement the long.
Sam was surprised to see it. Two years earlier, Father Rainey had turned up with the matching blades, handling them with quiet awe and passing them over to Sam with respectful silence. Both swords, the priest had explained, were forged from an iron meteorite, crafted by one of Hikari’s closest friends who was one of the finest swordsmiths still alive in Japan. The iron had been tempered and then quenched in holy water. Then the swords had been sharpened so that Sam, if he wanted to, could shave with them. Not that he would — iron hurt him like liquid fire. The hilts had to be specially made from steel in order for Sam to wield them.
Lines of silver writing, prayers in Latin, were etched into the length of the blades to make them more effective against demonkind. Finally, Father Rainey himself had then blessed both weapons.
For the last two years, Sam had practised every day with the katana, building up his strength and expertise with the weapon. On a few occasions, he’d asked Hikari when he would get to use the shorter of the blades. Every time, his master had just smiled and replied cryptically, ‘Not yet.’
Now Hikari unsheathed the wakizashi and handed it over to Sam, hilt first. “Feel the weight of it. Compare it to the katana. I want you to feel as comfortable with this as you are with your other blade. Eventually, it should become an extension of your hand.”
Sam hefted it, getting a feel for it in his left hand. He swung it experimentally. It was lighter than the katana but, due to the nature of its construction, still extraordinarily heavy for a fighting blade.
During his training with the katana, Sam had tried out both hands. Hikari assured him he was ambidextrous but somehow, the katana just felt like it belonged in his right hand. Now, lifting the wakizashi in his left, it too felt natural.
“Why now?” he asked, lifting his head to look Hikari in the eye.
Hikari smiled without humour. “Because you are ready. You have mastered the katana, now it is time to master the daisho — the long and the short. The true warrior uses every advantage he has. With two blades, you will be double the warrior you were with one.”
Sam smiled, enjoying the feel of a blade in each hand. Somehow, the two blades just felt right in his hands, like they belonged together and they belonged with him. Almost as if they completed him. His exhaustion was suddenly forgotten.
Hikari smiled too as if sensing the emotions running through his student. “Did you read the ‘Book of Five Rings’ like I asked?”
Sam nodded. The book had been written in the seventeenth century by a Japanese Samurai known as Miyamoto Musashi. Generations of warriors considered it to be the definitive guide to swordsmanship. He’d read it many times, cover to cover, engrossed by its contents.
“Musashi said that a warrior should start training with both swords at once,” said Sam. “Why is it, then,that I have been training with only one sword?”
“A good question, my boy,” replied Hikari, “and while I agree with Musashi with almost all his wisdom regarding swordplay, you are an unusual case. While your strength is greater than that of most men, the swords you wield are also extremely heavy — much heavier than conventional weapons of their type. I was waiting for your strength to build to such a level that you could wield both weapons with ease. Now you have reached that level, it is time for you to begin your real training. Tell me, what does NiTo Ichi Ryu mean?”
Without hesitation, Sam replied, “One school, two swords.”
Hikari nodded. “Correct. But what does that mean?”
“To use two swords at once, I guess,” replied Sam, shrugging.
“But why? Why not use one and apply your entire strength and focus to that weapon. What advantage do you gain by using two swords at once?”
Sam thought about this carefully before answering. “To enable me to attack and defend at the same time?”
“Precisely. Think about this: does it feel comfortable to run with both hands clutching one blade? Does it feel natural or do you feel unbalanced?”
Sam thought back to some of his earlier training sessions. Some of the drills Hikari had put him through had involved just that, running and leaping through uneven terrain with the katana clutched in both hands. He had felt unbalanced and awkward. Realisation suddenly dawned on him then — Hikari had done that to prepare his mind and body for this moment. That was why the katana and wakizashi in each hand felt so natural. They balanced him.
Hikari smiled broadly as he saw the change come over his student. “The long and the short are the perfect weapons for the challenges that await you. There will be many times when you are fighting on the run or in tight corners where a shorter sword will serve you well. Two swords will also enable you to attack easily from both sides, without exposing yourself when beset by multiple opponents.”
Sam nodded slowly. As usual, Hikari was right. Sam was capable of a blow of enormous power with two hands on one blade, but it really left him vulnerable to attack. With his strength, he was still able to deliver killing blows with one-handed strikes. Two swords made perfect sense.
“Let us begin then,” said Hikari, clapping his hands together. “We’ll start with Musashi’s ‘there are many enemies’ approach. Hold both swords at the middle attitude.” Hikari walked over and adjusted the angle of Sam’s blades ever so slightly. “Good. Now strike.”
Sam struck, and two bamboo poles were suddenly a foot shorter.
“Excellent. Strike again. You are surrounded by enemies. Don’t pause, don’t think — just act.”
The sounds of blades cutting through bamboo went on long into the night.
The late afternoon sun was sneaking in through a crack in the curtains when Sam awoke. He sat up, stretching and yawning massively, feeling the dull ache of muscles that had been worked till exhaustion. The last cobwebs of sleep and vague memories of dreams involving dark figures and blood slowly ebbed away.
Hikari had trained him until dawn. Then, satisfied that the boy was starting to display some competence with the two swords, had led him back to the house. His training period wasn’t over though. There was still verses of the Bible to go over (clad in gloves), a quick chat with Aimi before school, lessons to complete, a hastily prepared meal, shower and then, finally, bed. It wasn’t until after midday that his eyes had closed and he slipped into fitful sleep. Three hours sleep was all he ever required. If Sam could do without that minimal amount, he would have. Sleep was something he never looked forward to. The bad dreams were relentless.
He got up and threw a gown on, feeling grim. His mood was always particularly black when he got up — it normally took a few hours before he even felt like talking. Strenuous physical activity, he had found, was one of the few successful ways of elevating his mood slightly.
In the hallway, he encountered Aimi heading towards the bathroom. She smiled at him warmly, her perfect teeth gleaming in the afternoon light. Immediately, he felt his mood lift slightly. She had that effect on him.
Aimi was now twelve and probably as tall as she would ever be. Hikari was hardly a big man and his wife had not been much bigger. Already, Aimi was almost as tall as her father. She was still dressed in her school uniform; as usual, it looked immaculate despite having been worn all day.
She gestured towards the bathroom with her head, causing her long, slightly tussled raven hair to undulate pleasantly. “After you, Sunshine.”
