Sleepwalker, chapter III: learning to breathe
(Disclaimer: I do not own Takeda Jin, Niwa Juunosuke, Mariya Enshiro, or any of the characters and situations of Samurai Champloo, which are all (c) 2004-5 Manglobe and Simougusa Champloos. As always my love and gratitude to Ariel, Gecko, and the people who have read this so far.
IMPORTANT NOTE: Male x male sex scene in this chapter; non-explicit and tasteful, I hope, but if the concept offends you, consider yourself warned.
Edited Julu 2009 to purge it of fangirl Japanese.
Years later he would still remember his walk up the neatly swept path that led to the main door of Gojuu Hall. All the sights and sounds of a smoothly-running dojo came to him as he walked: the thunk of wood and ring of steel, the masters' shouts, the boys running to and from their classes, a general mood of busy harmony. He was expected: a boy ran down from the house to collect his modest bag and conduct him to the Master. And most of all he remembered that: his first meeting with Niwa Juunosuke.
He handed over the letter that Mariya-dono had given him to deliver, and waited until he was bidden to enter….
("My esteemed Juunosuke: with this letter I introduce my best student and adopted son, Takeda Jin. I believe he is the finest swordsman I have ever had the pleasure of training. As you will see though, and as we have discussed, he is withdrawn and much troubled of heart. I have done all I can to befriend the boy and set his feet on the outer path, but I admit, I have never had your skill with things of the spirit. He is my chosen heir to the Mujuushin, but if we cannot bridle his anger, he will be a weapon far too dangerous to draw. Therefore I entrust him to you. I have confidence that when I see him again my war-bird will be at ease in his hood and jesses, ready to face the adversaries before him.
Until then, dear comrade, farewell from your far distant friend."
Niwa-dono read it through twice, frowning just slightly. You profess concern, but I know you too well, old friend; your fear is louder than any word you write. That the boy's strength is too great, or too much his own, to be biddable to your will…hood and jesses indeed…
"Send him in, Ihara."
The first thing Jin noticed was the man's eyes. He was so accustomed to Mariya-dono's first look at anyone who entered the room, a measuring, challenging glance, asssessing friend and stranger alike for his degree of threat. But Niwa-dono looked as if he had never felt threatened by anything. The dark eyes were calm and open as he stood and bowed courteously to Jin, bidding him welcome.
"I'm glad to meet you at last, Jin-san; Enshirou-san speaks so well of his adopted son. He asks me to see to your training personally, and I look forward to it."
Delivered with a warm smile, this was unprecedented informality and kindness, and Jin had hardly known how to respond. Nor did Niwa-dono miss his stumble. Just as I imagined: Mariya gave him shelter and schooling, but barely more than charity beyond that until he proved to be valuable. --Ah, I can't help thinking like a father, can I? Poor boy…
"I'm sure you're tired; we'll talk later. Ihara, please show Takeda-san to his room. --I hope you like the western light. I find it most soothing."
This was already more concern for his comfort and preference than he could remember being offered in his first entire year at Mujuushin, and he had thought about it the whole way to the end of the students' quarters. It was already plain that Niwa Juunosuke was an entirely different calibre of man from his master.
As promised, Niwa-dono handled his training personally, and it was like nothing he'd been taught before. The calm swordmaster had been quietly amused at his surprise. "You thought you came all this way just to learn more kenjutsu? No. We must bring your mind, your breath, into harmony with your body; it's been left far behind. The Mujuushin would elude you as you are now."
They dueled with wooden blades, stopping frequently as Niwa-san perceived him sinking into the grip of his usual rhythm. He must break that pattern, he explained, must not let that slow rise of cold rage become his only way with a blade. In the purity of the Mujuu one does not even see or react to his opponent, thinks not of kenjutsu as combat, only as a ceaseless flow of motion and energy. In these pauses, they talked, and the man's manner was so simple and unjudging that Jin told him things he'd never spoken of, about his nightmares, about the his vow to never stand defenseless, about how the touch of a sword was the only thing that could always repel the dark reek of blood.
And Niwa-dono had nodded, and shown him how to sit, back straight, hands empty, folded but not clenched. "Correct breathing can hold back these fears as well. It clears the way. Here--" he laid one light palm just under Jin's collarbone, one on his belly. "You usually breathe up high--here--"--a tap--"as if you were running. Inhale now, and let the air fill your chest up from the bottom, starting down here. Try it."
Jin obediently breathed, feeling the difference, the air slowly rising inside him like water poured into a jar, not rushed in and out…and another sensation as well, one from his far childhood, almost forgotten…
"You see, it takes more time, and so calms the mind. Again.--Is something wrong?"
He was sorry to have reacted, tried to explain. "Not wrong, just …Mariya-sensei never touches me."
The touch did not withdraw, but the man's even tone briefly rose with surprise. "Never at all?"
"Not since I was very little."
"And my old friend wonders why his son sees everyone as an adversary….." Sigh. "Forgive me if I've distressed you, Jin-san."
The same quiet, serious voice, but with just a shade of something new in the eyes…
"You didn't, Master Niwa."
And so while learning how to breathe he also re-learned how to be touched, presented to him any number of quiet ways a day: massage after sparring, bidding good-night, the Niwa twins' exuberant hugs and tackles. (The master had two sons younger than Jin, their mother long dead; his patience, he claimed, was a side benefit of long balancing dojo mastery with fatherhood.) The skin he had almost consciously frozen past feeling sensation came back to life, cautious day by day, and he remembered how to savor the feel of hot baths and morning sun.
To aid Jin in grounding himself, Niwa-dono decided to teach him meditation, and many quiet hours were passed sitting in the willow garden. Shingon Buddhism teaches that enlightenment can be reached in a single lifetime, and the shishou, an initiated master, now and then set a deserving student's feet on the path. He frequently practiced calligraphy as a meditation, and would sit tranquilly painting characters by the hour while Jin, sometimes several others, sat suspended in trance-state breathing around him. He listened to them all, but most closely and thoughtfully to Jin.
"You need not try to block out all distractions: distractions will always arise and you will exhaust yourself stilling them. Simply refuse to be affected. See them, note them, let them go. Remain silent and alert, noticing all, moved by nothing. Observe--" he flicked a pebble into the center of the circle, nodded in satisfaction as three pairs of eyes calmly followed it, heads unturned, posture unchanged--"and release. That is the way."
The small act of a breath contains volumes of wisdom, he told them: to exhale is compassion, the core of Jin's own name: it is to give, to release. To inhale is to accept, to take in life. We are reborn with every breath in a day. Take in; let go. The quiet words settled in, and Jin, sitting under the willows, learned to let go of his anger; he learned that the nightmares could be held at bay with his breathing as well as his sword. Exhale. Let it go. Observe and release…
He came to see that what he had thought was calm was only control, brittle and taut, always at risk of shattering. Real calm was supple, it was forgiving, it was like moonlight moving on water. Mariya-dono was controlled, but Niwa-dono was calm. He was seeing things differently, here at Gojuu Hall.
He wasn't sure how, but along the way he'd also endeared himself to Niwa-dono's sons, the twins Tatsunoshin and Kazunosuke--Tatsu and Kazu. Having no mother and having run their widowed father ragged for most of their lives, they were ready to have an older brother to bedevil, and found their ideal foil in their patient and disciplined house guest. Jin spent unexpected hours demonstrating basic katas to the rambunctious twins and eating impromptu late meals in their kitchen, and soon forgot to look surprised when one of them called him "big briother".
It was on just such an evening, washing the dishes in the Niwa kitchen with his sleeves tied back, and Niwa-dono drying and stacking--he thought it ostentatious to have servants--that the final thread fell into place.
"...Jin-san."
The man's tone was so quietly serious that Jin glanced up from his work. "Sensei?"
"I have a personal question." Pause. "You grew up in the Mujuu dojo. There were ...relationships there, I'm sure? Or at least you heard them spoken of."
A little stiffly: "I've never listened to others' talk, master."
Amused. "I don't mean that you attended to gossip. I mean that you knew what was meant."
"..Yes."
"In all that time, were you never approached by anyone? I know Mariya-san thinks of nothing but the sword"--still amused, wryly--"but did no other master offer you brotherhood? Or a younger student?"
A long moment. "I think…they were too afraid of me."
Niwa-san nodded. "As beautiful as you are, and as admirable in your skill, you were still too strange…"
Jin did not hear the compliment, gazed into the water unseeing. "I'm told that when I was small they held a special ceremony for me. They were afraid I'd heard Yuki-onna's song, and been enchanted." There was a deep ache in the soft, haunted voice. "People have always seen Death in me."
"And you feared they were right." Niwa-san touched his shoulder. "Jin-san, it grieves me to see your sorrow. I hope that by now you trust me. Would you pass one night with me?"
He raised a quieting hand against the startled look in the crystal-grey eyes. "Not tonight. There are things to prepare. I only ask if you will."
"I..."
Jin lowered his head, and Niwa-san stroked the back of his neck. "Dear Jin, you have carried so much alone. Please. I think it will ease your heart."
He took one step forward, and the lowered head pressed into the man's shoulder; a deep, deep sigh of relief and release. Exhale. Let go.
"I will."
And inhale.
Not that night, but three nights thence, they were together on the big futon under the east window. Painted screens set this side of the room apart for the night, and red sandalwood candles burned on the tall carved stands. It was about two hours until moonrise.
A smaller candle flickered under a soapstone dish of oil, adding to the room's fragance. Niwa-san dipped more warmed oil into his hand and returned to massaging Jin's back. Strong gentle fingers worked from the base of his skull down the long spine, telling its bones like a string of prayer beads, steadily, mindfully, one by one. The boy's breathing was so quiet he might have been asleep, but Niwa-san knew he was preparing himself. He knew what was to come, and perhaps, in spite of everything, he was afraid.
He glanced at the box that lay by the bed. The contents were simple. Spoiled and wealthy men addicted to nanshoku's pleasures sometimes had sets of a dozen, in ivory or other rich materials, graded delicately in size to prolong a boy's first opening for hours. But he had never had use for more than three, plain hardwood polished to a satin finish. Used with care they were more than enough. After all, their purpose was to spare pain, to make this first time gentle and easy, not to turn it into some perverse game.
He reached the base of Jin's spine, slid further down, rubbed warm oil into and around the opening there, and felt Jin tense just perceptibly…Yes. We begin.
Very slowly, more oil, and the smallest of the polished rods…
(Oil gleaming in the candlelight; an edge of panic in his sharp breathing; stop, ease away the fear, wait for balance. All so strange to him. He barely knows human touch, intimacy not at all. It takes all his will to permit the intrusion, calm himself, know that Niwa-dono can be trusted, even with this--
He is stronger than his fear. And he is so, so weary of feeling cold and alone.
The second one is easier. Niwa-san is still touching him, lightly with fingertips now, wide easy circles. His skin feels warm, glowing. He senses a new tension that isn't fear; stretches slowly, lets himself feel the sensation of the object inside his body. It doesn't hurt. It's almost….good. He breathes slowly and deeply. The man kisses the nape of his neck, and it tingles. )
As the bright edge of the moon rose over the trees he carefully withdrew the third rod, embraced Jin and raised him to his knees. Could not help but admire the warm flush that had spread through the pale skin, touched the strong pulse in his throat. Jin gasped for breath, leaned over with arms braced, trembling at the light caress. They had done well, there was no fear there, they were both ready.
"Remember," Niwa-dono told him quietly, "this will master you only if you let it. Let sensations rise, sweep over you, and pass on, like waves of the sea. Do not close them out; do not drown in them. Simply be here."
One last palmful of warm oil-- he folded his arms around Jin from behind, drew him close--
(And then a sensation like nothing before, that makes him cry out more in surprise than anything else, not in pain, no--the long and gentle opening has done its work. There' s only feeling and heat, and life; his body so long his alone, now shared. It doesn't hurt. Nothing hurts. He willingly arches into the warm embrace, meets the strong, deep movement with his own, and again. One of Niwa-san's hands covers his heart; the other slides down to fold around him, and he's almost lost in the intensity of pleasure--
--breathes out. Waves of the sea. The moment passes, not sweeping him away. )
There's a soft chuckle by his ear. "I knew you were strong enough."
(And they move in the smell of clove and sandalwood, until the moon clears the trees and floods into the room, until the ninth wave rises, and breaks.)
They lie together, Jin still cradled in Niwa-san's arms.
"I have a question.."
"Ask."
"Is it truly permissible, this? It has such power. Couldn't it be too great a distraction?"
"Oh, I've seen strong men become so distracted by it that they lost all their dignity, and worse. But when it's done mindfully, as we have, there's no danger in it. It's much wiser to deal with it than to ignore it. Besides.." he strokes the sleek head on his shoulder…"it gives pleasure and solace, which are great healers."
"Then…" he closes his eyes--"maybe.. before I leave here…"
(Well, Niwa-dono thinks in quiet amusement, so there really is a 16-year-old boy in there, after all…)
"Of course we may."
--It had crossed his mind that he had usurped a privilege that rightly belonged to Jin's real master, and a more jealous man would have been within his rights to storm Gojuu Hall blade in hand to demand satisfaction for it. But he doubted Mariya-san would do so. The dojo held all his heart: not only had he never married, he'd never even taken a lover, student or otherwise, as long as Niwa-san had known him. Not even this one, who very few masters could have left untouched. No; he feared no reprisal from Mariya Enshirou…
What he was starting to dread was sending Jin back to him.
He had been in danger of sinking in grief and despair when his beloved Hiromi, his wife of ten years, had died of an illness, leaving him to raise two small sons alone. To distract his mind he had thrown all his energy into the dojo, and into being both parents at once to the twins. His tireless labor had succeeded handsomely: Gojuu Hall was acclaimed a dojo of the highest rank, and Niwa-san was so busy that he seldom even thought of finding a new companion. But then he had agreed to do a favor for an old friend, and been delivered this: a diligent scholar, a thoughtful and intelligent friend, the finest of sparring partners, the twins' adored brother-target-playfellow, and now…he sighed ruefully. He had almost managed to forget how lonely he was, until now.
He would, of course, never mention any of this to Mariya-dono. But if he ever heard that the Mujuushin master was mistreating his disciple, he promised himself, he would not be silent another moment.
He was not the same, then, when the day came, and he was standing by the red footbridge with his bag on his shoulder, looking at the three of them.
"Jin-nii, come back soon! Don't forget!"
"Yeah, don't forget us! We'll have learned a lot when we see you again!"
The twins couldn't be restrained, and flew at him, wrapping him in a double hug, words tumbling over each other as they fought to see who could get in the last word. Jin caught one in each arm and returned the embrace, smiling at their irrepressible energy. He was going to miss them.
"Thank you, Kazu, Tatsu…I'll see you again, I promise." Lifted one chin in each hand. '"And don't disobey your father so much. You're lucky to have him."
"We'll be good!"
"Well, pretty good…"
"Boys," put in Niwa-san from behind them, and they straightened, bowed dutifully, said a subdued "sayonara" in unison, and scampered.
Niwa-san let out a deep breath, looked at him a moment, and bowed, with a warm smile.
"There is no more I can teach you, Jin-san. Go back to your master and walk the path proudly. Tell Mariya-san that I say he has set the Mujuu in the best possible hands."
Jin returned the bow. "I will always be grateful to you and your house, Niwa-san."
"And we to you as well." He reached into his sleeve. "I have a small token I hope you'll accept, in memory of your time here."
It was a bracelet of sky-blue beads, with a blue knot and small tassel; nenju prayer beads, a temple token. "This comes from Daigoji in Kyoto, which is one of the central temples of Shingon, "said Niwa-dono, "and was made by the monks there. It will remind you of the teachings, and I think, keep you safe as well."
Touched, Jin bowed and slipped it onto his right wrist. "Thank you." And then could not remain formal, nor could Niwa-san; they stepped close and embraced, for a moment held tight.
"It's not easy to see you go." Kissed his forehead. "Sayonara, dear Jin. My house is open to you always."
'Thank you…Juunosuke-san." He leaned into him one last time, eyes closed. "Sayonara."
(He had almost said that he loved him. He wasn't sure why not. Perhaps it was too much, or too late. But it was in his mind: he loved this place, and these people, and Niwa Juunosuke most of all. He wondered how he would feel when he saw Mariya Enshirou again.)
(He thought of what Niwa-dono had told him, last night. One final thing I want to send with you, he'd said. It's admirable to serve, but not so to serve blindly. You have remarkable skill, and beauty as well: anywhere you go, men will watch you pass and think of ways they could use you. Think before you accept any commission. Ask yourself who will benefit, what good and what harm would be done. Then I think you will walk in the Way no matter where you go.
..in the Way. Yes.)
A final bow, and he turned, and crossed the red bridge.
Thanks to everyone who's read the first two chapters and been kind enough to comment on them.
Hope you will stay around as we head into the downward spiral...
