Pillars of Creation

Nihonbashi

Toshirō bowed deeply, his forehead touching the polished wooden floorboards of the dojo. He remembered them well from the hours that he and the other kendōka had spent cleaning and polishing them between classes. Even now, almost a decade after he had last set foot in the dojo, he could remember the odours of polish and detergent. "Ikeda-hanshi," Toshirō began. "I wish to beg a favour from you."

Ikeda, the head of the dojo, sighed in resignation. "Please - Kikuchi-san. Get up. I am not your sensei any more. You are no longer in my school."

Toshirō sat up, placing his hands on his thighs. No matter what the old man said, Toshirō still had a great respect for him. "I know. But this is ... ." He took a deep breath. "I wish to be your pupil again!"

Ikeda raised a shaggy eyebrow in disbelief. "After all these years? Why now?"

"It is a long story." Toshirō looked the old man in his eyes. "But I need you to teach me how to handle a sword again. Please, Ikeda-hanshi." Toshirō bowed again until he could feel the cool of the dojo floor against his forehead.

"Is it?" Ikeda put his hand to his mouth and tapped his front teeth with his index finger. "Very well. This way. Come and tell me about it." He turned his back to Toshirō and padded across the dojo floor, towards the door that led to his office. Toshirō got to his feet and followed the old kendo master.

Ikeda's office was a small room - barely more than a cubbyhole. The centre of the room was taken up by a low table with a thick, cloth skirt around it. A few mementoes of Ikeda's past had been set on the shelves that lined the office walls: photographs, certificates and the like. However, even these personal touches did not relieve the starkness of the room. Ikeda sat down at the table, his back to the single window, and tucked his legs under the table. Toshirō hesitated. Ikeda slapped his hand down on the top of the table. "I said come in. Sit down!" Toshirō bowed, then did as he was told.

"So." Ikeda steepled his hands, his fingers a few millimetres from the end of his nose, and peered over the top of his glasses. "Your story? What do you have to tell me?"

Toshirō shifted his weight and tried to avoid the older man's gaze. "I didn't know if you would believe me, Ikeda-hanshi."

"But you came anyway."

"I did. Yes." Toshirō paused to collect his thoughts. What should he say? What would persuade the old kendo master to help him? "You know the Nihonbashi?"

Ikeda nodded. "Of course."

"A few nights ago, I was heading for the metro station at the northern end of the bridge when somebody grabbed me. A woman."

"A woman?"

"I know. I didn't know what to do. At first I thought she was after money - like those panhandlers around the stations. But she told me that she had been waiting for me for almost four centuries, and that now I was here we were going to have a duel. I mean - a duel? On the Nihonbashi?" Toshirō glanced at Ikeda, trying to gauge the old man's reaction. However, Ikeda's face was impassive, expressionless.

"And you believed her?"

"Toshirō shook his head. "Not at first. I mean, who would? She sounded crazy. I tried to get around her, but she wouldn't let me. She just kept going on at me. I even told her that I would call the police, but that didn't work. She just didn't care."

Ikeda raised a hand to silence his old student. "So, what changed your mind?"

"I don't know. It was the way that she just kept on at me." Toshirō looked down at the table top, rather than at the old man. "This is ridiculous, Ikeda-hanshi. I apologise for wasting your time." He started to get up.