The missing lesson

Sensei, scarred on his neck and across one eye, his left hand curled and seized ages ago from a poison arrow, hobbled along the dusty road with his student.  The student listened to the clicking of the cane - he knew that cane well.  All too often it showed itself as faster and more agile then any sword he had seen.

As they walked, Sensei wondered to himself about this student.  "Could this be my disciple? Have I taught him enough?  His sword is quick, his feet know their way, and he has bested every classmate in every duel.  And he can teach the others - many have learned from their older brother, though he is not yet Sensei.  And did he not speak proudly of the school, our culture and our history at the feast? And Bushido! He shows proper respect and proper etiquette wherever we go..."

It grew toward dusk, that magic hour in which it is said the dragon is blind.  Out ahead of them on the road stood the silhouette of a figure.  Clad in dusty traveler's clothes, he watched the pair approach, a hand on his Katana.

As they drew near he called out "Halt - there's a new toll on this road, toss me your purse old man."

With a sigh, the old man tossed his purse to the highwayman.  The student was horrified; "You 'halt,' thief, for I shall teach you to respect my Sensei.  I challenge you!"

The highwayman, a swagger in his step, eyed the student up and down - "As you wish, kid," and they took their stances.

The first attacks clanged twice; each parrying the other's blade as they soared past.

They spun in the dust, small plumes out behind them, and eyed each other again.  The clouds hung as motionless as the sun, the wind ceased to blow, and all was quiet.  Then they charged.

Just as the student prepared to cut his opponent, the highwayman dropped low and swept out the young man's feet.  Springing off one hand, he landed on the student's back, grabbed his arm, and snapped it at the elbow.

"Feh," was all he said, as he dusted himself off.  The Sensei was close now; looking back and forth between the student and the highwayman.  Reaching into the student's purse, he drew two coins and handed them to the highwayman, who grimaced and walked off.

While Sensei applied splints to his student's broken arm, the student looked up.  "Why did you let him take our money after such an insult and so dishonorable a duel?"

"Heh, two for teaching you treachery, and my purse for reminding me to teach it.  It's more expensive to teach a sensei.  You should stay a student a little longer - I forgot a lesson."

- Kibagami Kuno.


by Josh Scribner
copywrite 2003
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