Coming of Age
Ranmaru passed beneath the crimson torii gate, his trial now beginning in earnest. Like his father, grandfather, and every man in his family before him, he had to pass from boy to man in a capping ceremony yet to earn his cap he had to ascend Sacred Mount Tai. His father never spoke of his own trial, nor had his grandfather, and, on reflection, none of the men did. Once, Ranmaru had overheard talk of his mother having a brother, his uncle he supposed, but he’d never met him and those talking spoke of him as a boy, not a man. Ranmaru followed the fox statues leading higher up the sacred mountain. Thick stalks of bamboo jostled in the wind while cicadas screeched their morning song.
His childhood had been focussed on learning all he would need for life. Sword and bow craft had been first, then poetry, hunting, calligraphy, and geography. Along the way there had been diversions into mathematics and history, but nothing prevented three hours of sword practice every morning followed by poetry. Those were sacrosanct. That day was the first in over ten years that Ranmaru had not trained all morning. He felt unbalanced at the thought and his hand drifted to his tsuba-less katana, eager to complete his drills.
Woodpeckers knocked through the rustling trees as speckles of gold danced over Ranmaru and the earth. He stared at the ground wondering if his trial was merely a climb. The fox statues had ceased and now his only guide was the gradient. Mount Tai surveyed all the land around it, a great spirit that cared for the forest, the ocean, the plains, and the dunes. Many villages, towns, and a few cities, were gathered beneath its shadow, a constant throughout time.
‘Why do you come and taint this sacred mountain with your presence?’ a silken voice asked.
Ranmaru dropped into a readied stance, his sword half drawn stopping only when his eyes settled on the woman barring his path. He swallowed. The woman was young and slim faced, her eyelashes curled and fluttered. Her hair was held atop her head with two silver pins adorned with jade dragons. ‘I come to prove myself a man,’ Ranmaru straightened, sheathing his sword, his cheeks flush from pride. He averted his gaze from the beautiful woman.
‘Ahh, like all boys of Uka. You have a certain look about you…. very familiar,’ she hid her hands up her sleeves across her front. She stepped towards him, her pale bare feet gliding out from beneath an embroidered kimono. There was no sound as she walked, nor did her steps disturb the ground. ‘There are three trials.’
The woman’s hair smelled of blossom and Ranmaru fought himself not to look upon her, no matter how much he desired too. ‘What are they?’ his words clipped and pointed.
The woman furrowed her fine brow, though it did nothing to disrupt her beauty. ‘What’s the rush? We are all alone,’ she grazed his arm with her hand.
Ranmaru shuddered, ‘Step away. I…’ his resolve faltered. His eyes met hers, dark and round. She smiled, full red lips pouting a little before she giggled. ‘If you will not tell me then I must continue,’ Ranmaru stormed up the mountain path, horrified with himself for failing such a simple test.
‘But we haven’t even learned each other’s names,’ the woman spoke soothingly, yet it was not quiet even though she had not chased him.
Ranmaru ignored the bait and continued on. Thirty strides later he looked back, the woman was gone. He continued his climb. The bamboo forest receded, the cicadas quietened, and the echo of water rumbled through the land. The path wove eastward, flattening for a time and then turning into a copse of blossom trees. Pink petals decorated a series of stepping stones, a smooth seating stone waiting for him with a brush, ink, and a single strip of plain silk, large enough for three lines. Ranmaru gripped the hilt of his sword, searching the copse for dangers, for the woman, for anything, but there was nothing but the view. A river tumbled over a cliff into a pool below, water vapour rose in huge gouts, misting on thick sugi trees. The sun hung white in the azure sky dotted with soft clouds. Ranmaru relaxed, sighing to relieve the tension in his shoulders. Pink blossom framed the vista. He sat. To his right was a shrine, with an empty stone tray inside large enough for a slip of silk, the characters Trial of the Soul were carved into the pillar. With brush in hand he began to compose.
Misting waters breathe, Pink blossom sways on the wind, Tranquil nature sings.Ranmaru rose from the polished stone cushion and slipped the silk into the shrine. For a moment nothing happened. What did he expect, it was inert. He adjusted his belt and began searching for a way up the mountain. The trees were thick, the undergrowth thicker, every direction he faced would have him cut and slashed by branches and thorns. There was no way up. He peered across the tranquil falls once again.
The shrine quivered. A ball of blue light emerged inside, around his poem, and the trees began to swim and shift. A path opened up in the forest, leading upward. Ranmari returned to his climb.
A few hundred steps up he had risen above the tree line and looked down, back towards the waterfall but it was no longer visible, or perhaps it never was. Far off he could make out his village of Uka, his family’s estate on the edge that seemed so big but now appeared smaller than his thumbnail. Farmers, little more than ants from Ranmaru’s vantage, crawled through their paddies, picking insects off the rice shoots. His father, mother, sisters would be down there now seeing to the running of the land, the craftshops, and the rest. Or maybe they’d be fretting about him on his trial. Not his father, his father was confident Ranmaru would succeed.
Steeled, Ranmaru continued on up the craggy mountain, the snowcapped top lost to mist. The path zigzagged up a particularly steep section before flattening off. Ranmaru paused to catch his breath, the air had thinned a little and the breeze chilled the sweat on his brow. He went to continue his climb but found there was no path and the mountain side had become sheer vertical rock barring his path. There was a plateau above but the climb was treacherous, with few handholds. He sighed and his eyes settled on a cluster of mounds with a pool, a stream, and a number of wooden horsemen and soldiers painted red. The more he looked, the more he saw. There was a recreated landscape before him, replete with battle formations. To one side was a basket of soldiers and horsemen painted blue. Across the miniature mountain the characters Trial of the Mind were carved.
Ranmaru analysed the map. A river valley ran from one end of the land to a lake with a plain to one side and a mountain to the other. There were a number of passes and hard climbs through the mountains, a road along the edge of the lake, and a fort on one of the hills. The enemy army had taken a defensive position inside the valley with a contingent of archers inside the fort. There was forest too and Ranmaru tried to peer inside but there was an odd flicker of light that blinded him from seeing inside the miniature, presumably there was cavalry or some force ready to ambush. Any engagement would see the attackers pinned in the valley, arrows falling from above, with a charge in the rear, facing certain defeat. He had three units of infantry, armed with yari and katana, a single unit of bowmen, and two units of yari cavalry. It wasn’t enough to break the enemy formation and such a strategy would spend life at such a cost as to be dishonourable. No, there was a solution simply in the use of terrain.
The mountain passes were wide enough for his infantry and led directly behind the enemy infantry, though the enemy archers and calvary could provide support. He set his cavalry on the road with one facing the infantry and the other facing the forests. Behind those were the bowmen and last unit of infantry, able to support where needed. The fort was the only problem that remained and that would solve itself once other units were free. In fact his bowmen could loose their arrows on the fort, though the chance of scoring hits would be low given the height difference. He surveyed the map, unsure of his formation. At the last moment he took the cavalry facing the forest and set it near the edge of the map, on the road, with the idea it would swoop round the copse, likely hiding enemy horsemen, and up the flatter side of the hill to raid the fort.
Ranmaru nodded to himself and waited. The sun rose a few degrees in the sky and the wooden miniatures began to move. His infantry travelled through the pass and struck at the rear of the enemy soldiers. The fort bowmen turned to loose arrows on his infantry. Next his cavalry set off, one into the infantry, the other skirting the copse and riding hard up the hill. The swirl of light vanished from the copse and two units of cavalry burst forth, one for his own cavalry, the other for his bowmen on the road. The infantry surged ahead of the bowmen from the road, intercepting the enemy cavalry and overwhelming them. His other cavalry shattered the enemy infantry in the valley, now surrounded with only narrow mountain passes to retreat through, while his second unit of cavalry suffered heavy losses charging the hill but where soon joined by the archers and infantry from the road and together neutralised the enemy in the valley. Victory was won but he had lost more men than he’d wanted too.
A few moments past with only the wind speaking as it brushed over Mount Tai’s rocky face. The ground trembled, the rocks quivered, and the sheer cliffs parted to reveal a cleft leading upwards. Ranmaru hurried on to the third trial.
All Ranmaru could see below him were clouds. The cerulean blue sky surrounded him and the only landmark he could see was the peak of Mount Tai. The wind froze against his face in a thin sheen and no matter how deep he breathed it was never enough. He struggled up icy rock with sheer drops either side until the path flattened out like it had before and he arrived on a plateau. There was a short almost vertical climb to the peak a little further on.
‘Well done on making it this far,’ a silken voice said.
Ranmaru blinked to focus his eyes and found the woman from the morning ahead of him. She was as before, beautiful, well dressed, and appeared unbothered by the thinner air and chilling breeze.
‘Shall we go somewhere more comfortable?’ the woman smiled, her lips plum coloured, and clicked her fingers. Mount Tai vanished, the sky vanished, the wind ceased, and a sake den built itself around them both. Hot coal irori were sunken into the floor with heavy blankets beside them. Sake, warm and steaming, awaited on a table nearby. ‘Help yourself, you have earned it.’
Ranmaru knocked on a wooden beam. It rang solid. He scuffed the tatami with his foot. It was tatami.
‘There is no trick.’
‘You moved us… somehow.’
The woman sat beside the irori and poured two cups of sake, ‘Please, sit. Drink. Prepare for the final trial.’ The beauty fluttered her eyelids and held out one side of the blanket.
‘I can’t share that with you,’ Ranmaru stared at the beams that made up the roof. A warmth nestled in his torso.
‘No-one will know. Only us,’ she patted the cushion and sipped her sake. ‘Mmmm, this is the best.’ Her cheeks flushed.
Ranmaru swallowed hard and he forced his thoughts to focus on the grain in the wood, he counted the lines.
‘You have strong hands and a handsome face, a familiar face…’ she pouted and rolled her eyes in thought. ‘Why don’t you join me and perhaps I will remember,’ again she held out the blanket. ‘I don’t bite, quite the opposite.’
Ranmaru shut his eyes, his jaw clenched so hard it hurt. Sweat lined his palms and he wished he was back on Mount Tai in the icy breeze. ‘I cannot. I have my trial, it would not be right to interrupt it.’
‘The trial is going nowhere, but I will be. Share a sake with me now or live your life wondering what might have been,’ the woman arched her back, raising her arms overhead, before continuing her sake.
Ranmaru traced her figure above the blanket, it called to him. The warmth of irori caressed him. His tongue was parched and could already taste the sake. He took a step towards the woman, imagining her warmth pressed against him.
‘Here, a cup of sake,’ she held out the cloudy steaming cup for him.
Ranmaru reached for it but faltered, his finger grazing the cup. ‘NO!’ he halted. ‘BE GONE! Return me to Mount Tai.’
The woman spun to face him, eyes yellow and narrow. ‘Have it your way, fool!’ She hissed, two fangs growing from her top teeth while horns sprouted from her forehead. Overhead beams collapsed, rotten through, and the tatami shrivelled. The sake cups shattered under her cloven hooves, a set of characters were stamped inside; Trial of the Heart. Strips of embroidered kimono fell away from scaled skin and the oni charged. ‘Death be upon you,’ the oni’s voice was a guttural bark. It held out a clawed hand and the air swirled and gathered into a massive curved sword of greenish silver. The oni attacked.
Ranmaru staggered backwards, once again on rocky ground, and drew his guard-less katana in a single silent movement. His hands shook, his entire body shook, the oni was twice his height and its sword far heavier and longer. He parried a wild swipe that would have cut him in half. His elbows and shoulders screamed in agony. Making distance he parried and side stepped swipe after swipe unable to find an opening.
‘You won’t succeed like that,’ the oni growled. Thick black drool dripped from its fangs, fizzing against the stone. The yellow eyes followed Ranmaru unblinking. The oni came on him like lightning, swinging high and low.
Steel rang like bells when Ranmaru deflected the attacks, his hands tingling and numb from the effort. He screamed, the tip of the demon’s sword carving through his thigh. Biting his lip he shuffled backwards, the icy wind freezing the sweat to his brow.
‘Another boy destined to die,’ the oni shook its head. ‘Wouldn’t it have been easier to join me by the irori? Like your uncle before you?’
Ranmaru bristled at mention of the man he barely knew existed until a few days ago. His uncle’s failure was dishonourable, no wonder his father never spoke of it. Ranmaru attacked.
‘He lives you know. As a ronin, going from castle to castle, always via the brothels,’ the oni cackled. ‘Never does he find her though, never.’ The oni knocked Ranmaru’s attacks aside with practised ease. ‘But he lives, while you will die.’
‘Better to die with honour,’ Ranmaru feinted right and cut left, a slick emerald cut across the stone. The oni staggered, its wrist severed to the bone. Ranmaru did not pause to revel but slashed from high to low. The oni tsk’d, side-stepped, and kicked Ranmaru to the ground. His katana clattered across the stone, the blade teetering over the edge of Mount Tai with only cloud below. He scrambled on his hands and knees.
‘I think not,’ the oni ensnared his ankle and dragged Ranmaru back. ‘I will feast upon your flesh and boil your bones into a fine broth so your spirit is stuck here, forever.’ The oni hefted his blade to impale Ranmaru.
The boy kicked the oni’s backwards knee joint, then again in the jaw as the monster fell forward. He wrenched himself free of the oni’s wounded hand and clambered to his sword, spinning round when he found it. The oni was upon him, roaring and leaking a trail of emerald blood. Ranmaru dove to one side, striking out wildly. Sparks flared when his sword caught the oni’s horn. The oni roared and skidded to a halt at the edge of the cliff. Ranmaru landed hard on the rock, winding him, and he rose wheezing, he slashed twice, his blade a blur. The oni stumbled backwards, blood pooling behind its fangs, it clawed at its stomach, its hand coming away green, and fell into the mists below.
Ranmaru fell to his knees, drinking air like it was warm sake. His head throbbed, his thigh ached, and he rolled onto his back though the coarse stone offered little relief. The mountain grumbled. Stone ground against stone and steps appeared in the final cliff leading up to the peak of Mount Tai.
Ranmaru struggled to stand, his lungs stinging from the cold thin air. He cleaned his katana in the crook of his elbow, sheathed it, and began his final ascent.
The wind ceased and the warmth of the sun greeted him atop the mountain. The mists had cleared and from there he could see the whole world, from north sea to south sea. A torii gate rose at the highest point, straddling the peak of Mount Tai. Ranmaru limped toward the gate, his leg slick with blood, first he would enjoy the view. He passed beneath the gate and the world shivered. The bamboo forest grew around him, the humid air cloyed at his throat, and the sounds of the evening cicadas echoed through the forest, the crimson torii gate was behind him once again. He turned and could see the peak of Mount Tai hidden in the clouds above. Trial complete, Ranmaru began his journey home.
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