A Time Traveller's Guide To Feudal Japan

"Throw on these clothes, and then I will cast you into our ranks, and show you just where you stand."

Soroko announced, though those words were heavily induced by a yet to be seen threat.

They did as they were told. They cared not for modesty as they stepped out from the bath, fully unclothed, nor did the monk. He merely continued to look them in the eye, as they walked confidently, without flinching, and drew the robes over themselves.

"These have a remarkable amount of room in them."

Gengyo muttered, slightly surprised by how little they restricted his movements. Kimono’s in general were rather good for practising martial arts in – better than trousers – because of the freedom they offered. But this was on another level. They were so baggy that it was impossible to tell the shape of one’s body underneath them.

"I guess we’re monks now, Kitajo."

He lamented. If anything, they now entirely looked the part.

"Incorrect. To an outsider, perhaps you could pose as one. But to a true monk, those clothes hide nothing. Follow."

Soroko cut in, before turning to lead them out of the room.

The two men shared a glance, before they slowly began to walk behind him. As they walked through the rooms, they were regarded with much curiosity by all the monks that they encountered. But after glancing toward Soroko, none of them dared to say anything.

Through the main entrance, they exited, and once more returned to the courtyard in which they had been presented. The monks were no longer continuing their group training session – as Soroko was not there to lead them – instead they split off into groups, that looked to be roughly defined by age, as the younger boys seemed to be together, and the older men together. There were exceptions to this rule, however.

In each group, there was a pair duelling, whilst the rest stood round, and offered criticisms and praise, as the men fought under the oppressive gazes of their peers.

But apparently, they saw no concern in receiving such pressure. These duels were remarkable to watch as well. Instead of simply two spearmen sparring, it was as though two acrobats were going at it, for they moved with such flexibility and grace, that it seemed the air around them supported their endeavours.

But ever the cynic, Gengyo was unsure whether such flourishes really held purpose, or whether they were for the sake of performance. In his eyes, all the incredible stances, and movements that they displayed were entirely unnecessary. In a fight, one only needed to claim victory by stabbing his sharp point into the enemy, before he himself got stabbed.

"You judge them harshly, young man."

Soroko noted, after taking a single glance at Gengyo’s face.

The young man shrugged. There was no point in pretending.

"I merely judge what I can see, and if that comes across as harsh? So be it."

Kitajo glanced at Gengyo, with a hint of confusion in his eyes. The lad was talking differently than he normally might. It seemed as though he was caught up in the monk’s flow.

"Which of these men do you believe to be your match?"

The old man questioned curiously, wondering just how far arrogance tainted his actions.

"I do not know. None of them look particularly strong – but neither do you. Yet you’re undoubtedly a level above mine. Anyway, you question me as if you know the answer. Who is my match then, old monk?"

Soroko smiled upon hearing the defeat that was laced in those words, and he merely pointed forwards.

The two young men followed the line of his finger, and their gazes fell upon the youths. Children who had not yet reached their teens, yet they sparred with just as much ferociousness and enthusiasm as the men who were many years their seniors.

"Tsch."

Gengyo tutted loudly, he should have known the monk would give him such an answer. He did his best to not appear too insulted, as he turned to the monk and asked him for his real answer.

"Real answer? Whatever do you mean? I do not joke young man. Those boys are your match – perhaps more than that. I’d wager they could beat you."

Kitajo turned his neck to see Gengyo’s eyebrow twitch, he was clearly rather irritated at such comments, but was doing his best not to show it.

"Very well monk, we will assume it is as you said."

Gengyo muttered, turning his back on the scenes behind him, and looking up to the monk, waiting for him to take them elsewhere.

"Oh? No, no. This won’t do. I can’t have you doubting my words. To be a monk means to be honest."

He intoned, before shuffling over to the group of young boys, and interrupting their practising. As soon as he made his appearance, the duel ceased, and they bowed respectfully toward their teacher.

He placed a hand on the shoulder of one of the duellists, before pointing towards Gengyo. The young boy tilted his head up towards Soroko, listening to what he had to say, before nodding, and walking over alongside him.

The other duellist ran on ahead, and wordlessly passed Gengyo the spear he had been practising with. Gengyo accepted it with a single hand, as he looked toward Soroko with irritation written all over his face.

A duel with a child – no matter what the results may be – would always be humiliating, especially for someone like him.

"Young man, this boy is Nanuka. He’ll be giving you guidance on your spear form today. Please act humbly, and treat him with respect."

As he spoke, the slightest of smiles played on his lips. He was clearly rather enjoying this. Before Gengyo could even tell when it had happened, there was a circle of young boys surrounding him, just as there had been when Nanuka was duelling before. It seemed it really was going to happen.

Gengyo stared at the spear he was holding distastefully, as though he could not believe he had to use it.

"What’s the matter? Would you prefer a sword to duel with?"

Soroko asked, feigning concern.

"No. Adaptability is a warrior’s greatest weapon. Unlike you monks, my people do not bow toward a single weapon, but practise many."

He spoke, taking his stance, with two hands on the shaft. Compared the rigidity of Nanuka’s, that seemed to be part of some form or other, his was much more casual.

"Ho... It seems you’re looking down on us. Adaptability is certainly a virtue, but it means nothing if you are unskilled in each of those weapons you claim to practise... BEGIN!"

He shouted loudly, his words making even some of the monks from other groups turn their heads.

As soon as the announcement to begin was given, Gengyo was greeted by a barrage of skilful displays. Nanuka twirled his spear to the right of him, using both hands, and had it spinning at a remarkably fast speed, but then, without spectators even being able to tell what had happened, he spun it across his back, and had it tucked under his armpit, on the other side of his body.

Gengyo shook his head. Such displays were unnecessary when the aim was simply to defeat your enemy. He stabbed forward with a swift strike, aiming for his chest.

’This is foolish. In doing those little stunts, you’ve tucked your spear away, so that your responses are slowed...’

He lamented, almost irritated by the little boy’s lack of regard for victory. But contrary to his expectations, Nanuka, swiftly dodged to the side, before bringing his front leg up, and spinning around, bringing his spear crashing down on Gengyo with great force.

It was by only by the skin of his teeth that Gengyo managed to block such a strike, by holding his spear with both hands on the shaft above his head.

But the boy gave him no time to recover, and once more spun forward, thrashing him with both ends of the spear, as he twirled it around with apparent ease, using the momentum of one strike in order to push into the next.

’Damn it...’

Gengyo muttered. He was being pushed back by the very displays that he had deemed unnecessary. There were so many flourishes that seemed only to serve the purpose of making a strike look more spectacular, but those flourishes lead to more power and speed, as one used his entire body in making them happen.

It also made it difficult to keep up with the strikes, as he was forced to block time and time again. By now this display had entirely attracted the attention of the other groups, as the older monks gathered round to cheer on their young companion.

"Haha, get him Nanuka! Show the outsider the difference between us and them!"

They cheered jovially, taking much glee in seeing one of their youngest members suppress him so thoroughly.

By now Gengyo was taking part in the sort of fight he had once looked down on: a fight where many strikes were exchanged, but little was done in the way of injury. Yet such a fight was entirely to the little boy’s advantage, as it rendered Gengyo unable to use his superior strength and power.

Another strike came towards his head, and once more he blocked it, with his spear held overhead with both hands. Yet this time, he lashed out with a kick, forcing Nanuka to step back.

As he had gained distance, Gengyo imitated the young lad’s earlier display, and began to twirl his spear off to his right hand side, before allowing it to spin over his back, and to tuck under his arm.

"Mmph. It’s an easy display to replicate – but what’s the point?"

He questioned, not aggressively, but he was genuinely curious. He had at first been irritated by Soroko matching him up with a mere child, but in doing so, he had allowed him time to properly analyse their techniques, and during which, a genuine curiosity had been fostered.

His easy imitation of the monk’s fighting techniques caused silence to reign for a good few seconds. Such a technique was one of the very first things they were taught, but it took a good while to master. These techniques were held as the most sacred of secrets, and there was not a chance he could have practised it before.

"It seems your master has allowed our little Nanuka inside his head."

Soroko said with a light smile. Contary to the rest, he was not surprised by Gengyo’s displays. More than that – he was actually amused by them. Kitajo glanced up at him, wondering what he meant by such words, but he dared not say anything. He saw how Gengyo did not trust the monk, nor would he.

This time it was Nanuka who was left to deal the opening strike, and once more Gengyo mimicked him, and spun around as he dodged the spear shaft, before bringing his own up high, and slamming it down toward Nanuka’s head.

It was with desperation that the little boy held his shaft above his head, attempting to block such a strike. But still, it was to no avail. From Nanuka, such a strike had been powerful. But from Gengyo, an a.d.u.l.t man, who was well muscled from his training? It was devasting.

His little arms gave out before the wood did, and he slammed into the floor.

Gengyo glanced around with a raised eyebrow toward Soroko, as if to say: "well?" But his victory was brought to an end swiftly, as one of the older monks stepped out from the crowd, making himself well seen.

And then, with a single strike, he slammed the end of his spear into Gengyo’s solar-plexus, sending him crashing to the ground.

"He struggles against a boy, and falls to a man. He is not worthy of our hospitality."

The monk spat, as he bashed his way through the crowd.