Student

The sun was setting. Kimimaro stood on the road, watching it go down. The forest around him was silent; not even the slightest breath of wind moved him. The gloomy mountain, at the foot of which lay the village where Kimimaro had spent most of his life, towered proudly over the surroundings. The boy glanced down at the spot from which smoke now rose. He had grown up in a village whose inhabitants loved a quiet life above all else. He alone was drawn in a mysterious direction. Life in the village was beautiful, but too dull for him. And so, after an evening conversation with his father, he made his decision: he would set out to become a samurai.

In vain, his mother pleaded with him not to leave. In vain, his brothers and sisters pleaded with him to stay home. Kimimaro loved them, so he promised to leave the village at night. But things took a different turn. When a band of bandits attacked his village that evening, leaving no survivors, Kimimaro made his decision. At his father's corpse, he swore to the heavens that he would become a samurai to avenge his family. Then he rose, said goodbye to the village, now in ruins, kissed the threshold of what he had once called home, and left.

The boy adjusted his kimono with a dragon embroidered on the back. His family wasn't wealthy, but they weren't starving either. In a year, Kimimaro would tie his hair into a bun and become an adult. If only fate weren't so inexorable...

The sun was setting. "It's time to go; I have a long way to go before I reach the capital." It was in the capital that Kimimaro planned to enroll in the Broken Sword martial arts school and become a samurai. He took everything he owned with him. It wasn't much: two pairs of sandals: a geta and a waraji, two kimonos, a felt blanket, and a blanket. His most precious possession was the scroll in which his father had written his last will and testament to his son. Kimimaro took it with him, promising his father he wouldn't open it until he became a samurai.

He suppressed his first emotion, hatred. "Hatred ruins not only others, but above all yourself. It makes you see everyone as your enemy. You trust no one, and in the end, you don't trust yourself either." His father had spoken these words to him years ago. Today, they were just a memory, good advice that Kimimaro wanted to follow. Anger reigned in his restless heart now, but the boy didn't stoke it; on the contrary, he prepared for something more—vengeance...

He cast one last glance at his village and set off. The capital was a long way off, a five-day journey. "If I have to get there as quickly as possible, I'm going now. We can't live in the past; we're moving into the future. And my future is samurai." The forest around him was silent, as if to confirm his decision and honor the boy who was becoming a man.

The boy plunged deeper into the forest, silent and gloomy at this time of day. The trees that had once seemed joyful now fell silent, gazing at Kimimaro. The old oak tree that stood at the entrance to the forest seemed to say, "Goodbye."

And so Kimimaro set out. He walked for another day, feeding himself with whatever he found along the way. He encountered no one. Strangely, this was a good thing for Kimimaro. He didn't want to talk to anyone; he felt it would only fuel the fire burning in his heart. He feared another person might dissuade him from his goal of becoming a samurai.

At the end of the second day, the boy saw a man standing on the road. The topknot on his head marked him as a samurai. Two swords hung at his side: a katana and a wakizashi. The man was dressed in long, black samurai trousers and a shirt. He couldn't see Kimimaro's face because the man's back was to him. But he wasn't alone. Around him stood a dozen men with drawn swords. They were talking in raised voices. Kimimaro moved closer to hear better. However, he carefully hid in the bushes to remain invisible to the man and the people around him.

"You don't really think we're going to let you go, Hitoshi? After you disgraced our Broken Sword School by calling us morons, we won't let you go alive. Pray that even a single slice of your flesh remains, or we'll tear you to shreds!"

The man didn't reply. He just turned and glared at his pursuers.

"Throw your swords to the ground and beg for mercy, and your death will be swift!" another shouted.

The samurai glared at him and said,

"Get out of my sight, you wimps. You're not worthy of carrying these swords.

" "What?! You'll answer with your throat, you monkey!" one of the pursuers shouted.

"And that's exactly your problem, you morons! You don't think with your heads, you think with your swords! That's why I didn't want to teach you. I told your master you were worthless, because you only wanted to swing your swords like a peasant with a flail in the field!"

The others, hearing such a powerful insult, gritted their teeth and lunged at the man. Kimimaro watched helplessly as the others charged at the stranger, who was alone against twenty of them.

And then came the terrifying whistle of a sword. Kimimaro saw the samurai swiftly draw their swords from their sheaths and strike precisely. His opponents had no chance; no sooner had they raised their swords than they lay on the ground, writhing like fish. Then a lightning-fast movement, and one by one, the others fell, their throats slit. Within seconds, all lay dead. The samurai sheathed his swords and looked at Kimimaro.

"Get out of there, young man. What do you want from me?"

The boy flinched. How did this man even know he was here? He stood on trembling legs before the samurai.

"What's your name?"

"Kimimaro."

"I am Arashido Hitoshi. Where are you going?" "

To the capital. I want to become a samurai."

"Go home, grasshopper."

Kimimaro was stunned.

"I have nowhere to go. My village is gone."

"So revenge is the reason you want to become a samurai..."

"Yes..." Kimimaro felt a tear well up in his eye.

"That's not a good reason to become a samurai.

" "It's enough for me."

"But not for me. Hatred ruins everyone, not just the other person, but you too. Eventually, you'll stop trusting everyone, even yourself. "

Kimimaro's heart beat faster. "

My father said the same thing..."

"You had a wise father, little one."

Silence fell.

"So what should I do now? If I can't even become a samurai, what should I do?"

"Come with me, Shugyosha." (warrior – student).

Kimimaro jumped for joy.

"I'm coming, Sensei!" (teacher).

And the two set off toward the forest.

"Tell me, Kimimaro," Hitoshi asked as they entered the forest, "what do you imagine the life of a samurai would be like?"

The boy frowned.

"A samurai is respected, liked, and universally revered. People bow at the sight of him, and he himself is honest and reliable." "

You misunderstood me. I'm not asking what a samurai's life is supposed to be like, but how you imagine it.

" Kimimaro considered.

"Sensei, I don't really know what it's like. It's hard for me to imagine something I don't have the slightest clue about. "

Hitoshi smiled.

"That's better. Since you don't know what it's supposed to be like, you're much smarter than I thought.

" "Really?" Kimimaro stammered, surprised. "

Don't flatter yourself, but I've had a few who wanted to be my students. They thought they'd be famous, powerful, that they'd fight bravely and combat injustice. They had noble goals, but the wrong approach. That's not the way of the samurai. Yes, a samurai performs glorious deeds, but their reasons for doing so are completely different.

" "Yes? What?"

"You'll learn, my little scorpion. For now, focus on something else.

" "On what?"

"Calm down and calm down.

" Kimimaro blushed. "I'm too talkative. Master is right, let's follow his advice."

And so they walked in silence. At one point, however, a thought occurred to Kimimaro: where did Master Hitoshi come from? He wanted to ask the question, but he suppressed it. "I'll ask him about it some other time."

Meanwhile, they had passed through the forest and stood at the entrance to the cave.

"I live here," Hitoshi said. "Come in, Kimimaro."

The boy entered the cave and was speechless: it was beautifully decorated. Felt and a blanket lay on the ground, and a sword stand stood against the wall. Nearby stood a table on which lay an unfinished game of Go. In the center was a fireplace, above which hung a cauldron. To the right stood a bow and a quiver.

"Make yourself comfortable, Kimimaro," Hitoshi said, sitting down on the blanket. "This is your new home."

Kimimaro gazed around the cave, captivated. It was austere, yet so beautiful in its simplicity!

Hitoshi watched with curiosity as Kimimaro absorbed every inch of the sanctuary he had come to live in. After a few minutes, however, Kimimaro calmed down and sat down on the ground beside his new master.

"So where shall we begin, sensei?" "

By lighting a fire. Bring me water from the stream that flows to the right of the entrance. Follow the path and you will come to the river." With these words, Hitoshi showed Kimimaro the bucket that stood by his bed. Kimimaro sighed but said nothing. Obediently, he took the bucket and walked toward the entrance.

"I wonder what Hitoshi sensei will teach me," he thought as he walked along the path toward the stream. First he'll probably teach me how to use a sword, then a bow, then how to ride a horse, and then..."

Thinking this way, he reached a stream and filled it with water. Just as he was about to leave, he saw Hitoshi behind him.

"Sensei? Why did you follow me?"

Hitoshi walked up without a word and pushed Kimimaro into the water. Luckily, it wasn't deep, but when the boy emerged from the stream, he was cold and wet. He took off his clothes.

Hitoshi looked at him with amusement.

"What's the matter, sensei?" Kimimaro asked, surprised.

And then Hitoshi pushed him into the water a second time. Kimimaro was surprised, he couldn't even move, and was left sitting in the stream again. He did, however, get to the bank.

"Senesei, why are you doing this?!" His voice was filled with anger and reproach. But Hitoshi ignored it and pushed him into the water a third time. This was too much. Kimimaro, having emerged from the water, He shouted,

"Are you crazy? This is how you treat your students? I'm not surprised they attacked you! I regret ever meeting you!"

Then Hitoshi spoke,

"Good job, scorpion."

Kimimaro was dumbfounded.

"What are you thanking me for, sensei? And why did you throw me into the stream?"

"You'll discover that yourself soon," Hitoshi replied. "For now, take some water and let's go back home."

In the evening, when they were going to bed after dinner, Hitoshi said to Kimimaro, "

Tomorrow, my student, you will begin your training. Prepare your soul and body, for this will be training you are not yet accustomed to. I will teach you everything a samurai should know.

" "Good, Master Hitoshi," Kimimaro replied drowsily, and fell asleep.

He slept for quite a while. In the morning, Master Hitoshi got up and, shaking his student, called, "

Let's get up, Kimimaro! Go to the stream for water."

Kimimaro rubbed his sleepy eyes and saw that the sun hadn't even risen yet.

"Isn't it too early, Master Hitoshi?"

The samurai eyed the boy.

"Get up," he said in a voice that brooked no argument. Kimimaro climbed out of his bed and began dressing.

"Kimimaro, wait! Just put on your geta sandals. Don't put on the rest of your clothes," Hitoshi stopped him when he saw Kimimaro starting to dress. The boy was surprised, but said nothing. He stood up, grabbed a bucket, and went to the stream.

When he had filled it and was about to return, he found himself face to face with Hitoshi again. The latter approached him wordlessly and pushed him into the water again. This time, however, Kimimaro didn't say a word. When he landed in the stream for the third time, he asked,

"Master, what will we practice today?"

Hitoshi smiled and sighed.

"The lessons have already begun. Come home with me, it's time for tea."

And they left. After breakfast, Master Hitoshi handed the boy a small leaf from a tree and said,

"From today on, you are to wear this leaf on your nose." When it falls off, you pick a new one and keep wearing it.

"Why?

" "Don't ask, just do it. It's part of the training."

Kimimaro placed a leaf on his nose and tried to walk a few steps, but the leaf fell off his nose and onto the ground. Hitoshi smiled. "

Until this leaf is on your nose, you can forget about being a samurai."

The boy was incredibly surprised, but from that day on, he constantly wore a leaf on his nose. It wasn't easy; sometimes a strong gust of wind would knock the leaf off his nose, sometimes a trip over a stone, and most often—Master Hitoshi throwing the boy into the water.

After a month, Kimimaro had had enough. As soon as they got up in the morning, he approached the master and asked,

"How long do I have to wear this leaf on my nose? And why? It won't make me a samurai!

" "You're wrong," Master Hitoshi replied, sipping his water. "Remember those others? They didn't even keep the leaf on for a day." If you think you can be a samurai, you're dead wrong. You still have a long way to go.

"But I don't understand the point of all this," Kimimaro explained.

"That's why I'm your master, not you mine," Hitoshi replied, setting down the waterskin. "Now go get some water, and don't forget the leaf."

Resigned, Kimimaro took the bucket, placed the leaf on his nose, and obediently walked toward the stream.

When he had filled it with water and turned around, he saw his master. The man slowly approached him, but Kimimaro didn't wait and shouted, "

Go ahead, throw me in the water!"

Master Hitoshi stopped.

"Why would I do that?

" "What? You've been throwing me in the water for days, and now you've lost your appetite?

" "Yes, I did," Master Hitoshi replied, "but not today. Today you completed the first stage of your training with me."

Kimimaro was surprised.

"What?"

"You understood the leaf exercise."

"No, sensei," the boy replied, which was true. Hitoshi approached him and said,

"You see, you were trying to keep a leaf on your nose, even though you knew it was impossible. You spent a month learning to control your anger. I saw you get angry when a leaf fell from your nose, but you picked up another one and held on to it. It's the same with revenge; it will fulfill itself when the time is right, but you mustn't live on it. Thus, you took the first step on the path to being a true samurai: not letting anger fool you."

Kimimaro looked at his master with different eyes.

"Thank you, sensei!"