Post by Taro on Sept 11, 2015 18:54:00 GMT -5
For such a small place, Zaisho was a truly remarkable island. The first thing anyone ever noticed was the massive tree that dominated its landscape. Known to the locals as Ashita, the majestic hardwood was a wonder like no other. Whilst mind-boggling in scale, it was also truly a thing of beauty. The blossom of Ashita glistened like the night sky, sparkling as if by magic. Its powerful roots dug deep into the earth but also grasped their way into a huge crater below. This crater was the town of Zaisho - its name interchangeable with the island as the only real civilisation on the landmass. If Ashita was the first wonder of the island, then the town was the second. Carved into the landscape like a half sphere, the town also bordered a lake that poured along it's outskirts in massive waterfalls. These waterfalls were harnessed by water wheels to generators, powering the city that glowed against the night sky like a red hot furnace - even now bustling with late night merriment. If one could tare their eyes from such wonders though, they may by chance spot a small figure towards the town's precipice. To the music of crashing water he danced, a spinning whirlwind of steel. His name was Arashi.
Arashi had lived on the island his entire life. As such its wondrous beauty was to him ordinary, mundane. His focus was, as it often was, solely on the movement of his blade. Tomorrow marked the single most important day of his life, as was the case for many of his piers. Whether or not a lifetime of practice, dedication and constant refinement would reap the rewards that motivated the efforts was a question that for just a little while longer, were out of reach.
Slicing through the air like a deadly sycamore seed the young swordsman glistened with a combination of rain and perspiration. The night would have been unpleasantly humid if not for the forgiving summer shower cooling his aching limbs. Arashi’s body was decorated with tribalistic tattoos that flowed seamlessly to a pattern of roses taking up a large section of his back. One could tell at a look that this was an athletic man, conditioned by years of training. As the tips of his toes felt the ground out for landing, he glided across the grass performing an arching cut, leaping to a violent swipe before collapsing down into a crisp leg sweep. Finally succumbing to fatigue his left leg gave and with a yelp he drove his blade into the floor.
"God... damn." Panting furiously he knew that for tonight, he was done. As his breath began to return to him, so did his doubts. 'What if I'm not the best? No, doesn't matter if not I'm extremely close. The real issue is mentality. That Geezer and I never did quite see eye to eye. Will he think I'm ready?'
"Why fight?" he asked the sky, the rain warm on his skin. His mind turned to his training
Some time ago...
They were at it again, the essence of swordsmanship... tsch!
"The answer's obvious. At it's core it's all about protection, right? To stand up and do what needs to be done. Just like with Zaisho. The only reason we're here at all."
The jackassery was as expected met with murmuring approval. It wasn't that the answer was terrible, but it was certainly as boring as it was basic. An answer crafted to the asker. Typical Bozu. 'What a square.'
More interested in the temple ceiling Arashi leant back studying the familiar tiles as his peers talked philosophy. All the usual buzzwords were thrown around; honour, courage, honesty and justice. The core tenant of swordsmanship seemed to be abstraction. Then, like a ray of sunshine her voice cut through the bullshit.
"All of that is important but I guess there's also that aspect of self expression. I'm not really sure, for me it's not just the one thing." Tomoe paused unsure. She never was one to talk much. Her large lilac eyes searched for reassurance and found the prompting nod of old man Hide.
"Fighting is brutal and should be avoided if possible... I think. And there should be an element of fun in practice, if it's not just work it's easier. Plus sword play is as much art as it is science..."
The old man at the centre of the circle of students shifted his substantial weight with the cracking of his muscular crossed legs. "Yes, as a labour of love swordsmanship can only truly be mastered when one pours themselves into it; mind, body and soul. Learning when not to fight. That is one of the greatest skills of all."
Arashi now substantially more engaged made the fatal of error of making eye contact with his teacher. Trapped. "You've stayed uncharacteristically quiet Ascot. No opinion? No... that would be impossible. Perhaps you're sick, or-"
"Alright sheesh Geezer. The essence of swordsmanship... it's uh, it's cutting stuff." He didn't need to look at great bearded frown of Hide Toyotomi to know that his answer wasn't going to fly. "No, I'm not being facetious. The whole point is to successfully cut a thing or a person, yes? When you get right down to it, that's all there is. The better you are at cutting something, the better you are as a swordsman."
"Is that it? The great Philosophy of the Blade, by Arashi Ascot. Cutting stuff well. Truely our finest scholar" the old bastard mocked.
"Am I wrong? Basically it all comes down to precision and efficiency. How do I cut stronger, quicker, less predictably? It's a constant refinement, like with a blade. The why is secondary to the how. I need to be able to kill a man before I show mercy, or it will be me at his. Winning... success... that is primary."
It was an issue that was often raised. Those studying at the temple of Zaisho were encouraged to experiment with styles and actively think about what swordplay was to them. Arashi had given it a decent amount of thought, but he hadn't vocalised his thoughts on the matter in a good while. Suddenly he had a very concrete concept of what his beliefs were.
"You're not wrong," Hide spoke, carefully mulling over the thinking. "At least not entirely. So to you when Zaisho saved the island, it is evident that being able to slice the meteorite is more essential than being willing to try."
"Well, if he'd been been even stronger perhaps he could have prevented the damage to the island entirely. Or survived himself."
"Only an idiot like you could see that spectacular feat as anything but a great triumph." Hide grumbled, clearly not thrilled with the way in which the discussion had gone. "Whilst the decision to act cannot be more important than the ability to do so, lacking the conviction to act when it is necessary is the same as not being capable."
"But--" Arashi started, but the old man was finding his feet now.
"You spoke of refinement; in this too it is conviction that is primary. The will. Yes the how is essential, but it is pointless without the driving of the why. Motive drives everything. Your training, your decisions and ultimately what kind of Samurai you become. It is also then essential to refine yourself not just in technique but in your convictions. To think on what is right and how to act. Morality like anything worth while takes practice too."
Contented that his world view had remained consistent the aged sword master concluded his monologue with some advice. "Do not forget then, Arashi, to refine yourself with the same dedication you put into your sword skills."
"Whatever... you talk in subjectives."
"As a subject seeking objectivity seems a wasted endeavour does it not? A fish may not will itself a bird."
The old man had made some good points, although Arashi would be the last to ever admit it. Then he'd still made some good points of his own, hadn't he? Back then he was pretty convinced the wily old fogy had baited an opinion out of him. Now he realised that he'd been shaping him for the test. Forcing him to articulate a position and build his own philosophy. Since that time his sword-work had come on nicely, but as a person had he really come along at all? He still for the most part had those same opinions, was that enough? What was it he was even training for, simple improvement for improvements sake? Why did swinging a sharp piece of metal around have to be so complicated?