A Time Traveller's Guide To Feudal Japan Chapter 159 - Techniques

"You're strong, without a doubt, young man." Momochi agreed, as he sat within Gengyo's room, and shared food with the two men. "Yet there is strength, and there is strength. You're surely not growing arrogant from merely this, are you?"

Gengyo shook his head. He was far beyond growing arrogant now. There was too much he had come to understand, about himself, and about the world around him. He merely acted as a river might, and flowed strongly, carrying along whoever wished to get in his way.

"Mm… As you are now, you could probably defeat some of the older monks. But most of them still lie beyond you. Not in strength, but in technique – that's what you'll need if you wish to have any hope of defeating the likes of Soroko, and Kuraka."

"Are they the strongest fighters in j.a.pan then?" Gengyo wondered. This was claimed to be the best warrior monk temple in all of j.a.pan, and they dedicated their entire lives to their training of the martial arts, so it was reasonable to a.s.sume that their peak would be similar to, or even greater than, the entirety of j.a.pan.

"Heavens no. But they come close. There are various prodigal men who most cannot defeat even if they spent their whole life training. Samurai, ronin, even ninja. The G.o.ds do not discriminate with whom they offer their gifts. And on your path, you're certain to meet at least a few of them."

"Momochi… Do you know what my path is, truly?" Came Gengyo's question. The smiley old monk had treated them amiably, and he had begun to feel a degree of camaraderie toward him. He had come to the understanding that this was certainly not a prisoner situation, and more that of forced tutelage. Whatever it was, it had worked entirely for his benefit, and he could hold no ingrat.i.tude toward him.

Momochi, as always, did not allow his smile to even flicker, as he p.r.o.nounced what he thought to be an adequate evaluation of all that Gengyo intended to pursue. "You want to take down Imagawa, aye? But you should be well aware that your path will not end there. Someone will have to take the reigns, and rule over Imagawa's provinces. I do not know what you have thought of in that regard, but that role will almost certainly fall to you. And you should know, that it will not end there. It's a turbulent time we live in, and people will always come, wis.h.i.+ng to steal from you, and throw your people into war. The only solution to that is to – truly – unify j.a.pan once more."

Gengyo raised an eyebrow. His intuition was frightening. They were much the same thoughts that he himself was having, though he had never truly wished to a.s.sume the position of Daimyo, not until recently.

"And you're fine with that, Momochi-sensei?"

"It's nothing to do with what I think. It's simply what's necessary. The only person who is fit to rule, is he who has climbed up to his position, from the most low of ranks, and understands the plight of the average person. Only he will be able to rule fairly and justly. Or perhaps, you might be born into n.o.bility, and spent your life learning about those that you rule – but there are few like that, very few indeed. You have strength, and you have talent. Your experiences are vast, and concentrated. They lend you power. Any monk worth his salt could see that. It is my honour, and my duty, to a.s.sist you in your task."

"You mean, you'll be coming back with us too, Momochi-sensei?" Kitajo asked excitedly. The old monk had been teaching him various fighting forms throughout the day as well, and though his growth was incomparable to Gengyo's, it was still significant. For the monk to follow them, would mean that they could continue to grow – both him, and the men they fought alongside.

"Aha, I'm afraid not, young Kitajo. Our order is complicated in our regard for the well-being of our country. We have to act as Buddha does, and only ever act indirectly. But that does not mean we will be out of reach. These are Takeda lands we live on – but truly, they're our own. It would require quite the force to chase us out. But before you leave, I will endow your master with all the martial knowledge I possibly can, and he – I expect – will be able to continue your tutelage."

"Quite the complicated order indeed…" Gengyo agreed, as he watched Kitajo grow slightly despondent at the monk's explanation of why he could not come.

"Aye. It matters not, though. By the time you leave, you will be powerful enough to overcome whatever obstacle stands in your way. Ah, I still have not told you when I judge you should leave, have I? How the mind of an old man wanders! Well, I'd like to think you'd have already guessed… But defeating Kuraka – he is the strongest at this temple of ours. When you are able to defeat him, you will have mastered your strength, your technique, and your mind sufficiently, and then, there will be nothing left for us to teach you, and it will be time for you to return to your people."

"Before we return, we still have men to recruit. Are our saddlebags still untouched?" Gengyo wondered. He had guessed that they would be, but confirmation will always be better than guesswork.

"That they are. Worry not, you'll be able to carry out your mission in time. I've mediated on the matter extensively, and there is nothing for you to yet fear." The old monk p.r.o.nounced.

…

…

The following days were spent away from direct duels, and more focusing on technique, with Soroko and Momochi to aid him. They were unsure quite how far his strength extended, but having him fight so many opponents merely to find that out would go against them in the end. He might lose early on, and start to doubt himself. Or he might climb all the way to the top, without the need of technique, and decide not to bother with it in the end. Either way, the combination of his speed, power, and their technique – that would render him unstoppable.

"Stance of the Monkey King…" Soroko labelled his form as he carried it out, his spear behind his neck and one leg raised off the ground. It looked awkward, and limiting, and Gengyo had said as much earlier on only to receive the prompt response: "fighting is awkward, and fighting is limiting – that is why we train as such, to grow used to each of those awkward positions, and be strong in them."

"First strike of the Monkey King." He whirled around, stepping down with his raised front leg, and he brought his back leg forward and spun, thras.h.i.+ng round with his spear. The air visibly rippled from the power of such a strike that utilised every muscle in his body, and was the result of years of training.

"Your turn." He spoke, as he leaned on his staff expectantly. They had been at this for half a morning, and they had completed more stances than he had expected to cover in a week – his rate of learning was almost inhuman.

Gengyo did as he was asked, and imitated him perfectly, right down to the most minor of adjustments within his muscles. His balance in that one-legged position was sublime, and as he brought his foot down, he did so with outstanding authority, las.h.i.+ng out with his heavy spear as though it weighed nothing, and was a mere extension of his own body. Just as it had with Soroko, the air rippled from the strike. Though it was not light at all. It was a strong gust that whipped their clothes back as they watched.

The old monk shook his head. Such prodigal talent was almost unfair. Not only could he master the stance at a single glance, he was able to perform it to a higher level than even he could, simply because of his power, and speed.

"Your master's quite the little monster." Soroko complained to Kitajo. From all this teaching, he did not even get to extract the delight of correcting his student's form over and over, and seeing the anguish on their face as they got it wrong once more. Such was one of his little s.a.d.i.s.tic pleasures.

"Yup… He certainly is." Kitajo agreed. He had always stood at the forefront of any endeavour they had attempted to carry out. Whether it be with the bow, or with the spear. He always learned quicker than the rest. Only men who were naturally more powerful than he stood a chance, such as Morohira. But now that he was unleas.h.i.+ng his truest potential, even his father could not stand in his path.

"Mm, they all feel awkward at first, but once you carry out the strike, you can certainly feel the power they hold." Gengyo mused, after he had completed the strike.

"That was a master-level martial technique, taught only to most adept of monks – of course it'd be powerful." Soroko informed him, struggling to keep his face emotionless, as the youngster in front of him effortlessly mastered techniques that had taken him years to complete.

"Master-level? Is that the highest?" Gengyo wondered. Naming systems were arbitrary if you did not know what they implied.

"It is not. Above that there are grandmaster and secret level techniques."

"Why aren't we learning them, then? They're more powerful, right?"

"They are. But in order to build a house, one needs to lay the foundations first. You can not simply jump straight to the top." There was also the fact that there was no one left to teach him the secret level techniques and forms. They were merely written down in scrolls, that had long since been unread. The trouble with techniques is that they are only powerful once you master them. You could spend years training a secret level technique, but it would still be useless unless you had completely mastered it. Thus most simply chose to ignore it, and focus instead on the grandmaster and master level techniques. That was the only reason for their name 'secret'– there was no one left to teach them.

"Let's continue then!" Gengyo called out eagerly. He was a hard-working man, and was not likely to allow himself to rest before the task was complete. That, combined with the quality of sleep he was now getting – he felt as though he had all the energy in the world. He wanted to master these techniques, and defeat Kuraka quickly, and then they could proceed onto the next level of their task. He just hoped that the men in the cove were getting on as well as he was, so that his worries would prove to be for nought.

"As you wish. The stance of the Nine Bellied Panda. Watch closely." He spoke, and continued the tutelage. Their task continued far into the evening, but by then, significant progress had been a.s.sured, and the groundworks had been laid. The days following could be spent on grandmaster techniques, and possibly, he might even be able to attempt a secret level one.