"No, no, NO! A rice-merchant's pushcart would make less noise." Yabu shook his head wearily. "Step, do not stride. You are still scuffing your feet. Control your breathing. You must evade branches, not bull your way through them."
Jiro nodded, and tried to duck the next branch as he retraced his steps. "Yabu-san, how should I carry my naginata so I won't catch it in the trees?"
"Keep the point down, at the level of your chest, and your hands well apart, as if ready to thrust in close combat." Yabu illustrated with his own spear. "Now use the point as a guide--put it where you wish to go, and follow it with your body, moving smoothly around obstacles like a fish in a stream."
"Then I should not it use to push branches away?" Jiro tired to emulate Yabu's words as he worked his way past a clump of trees.
Yabu's brows knitted in frustration. "Every branch you touch, with your body or your weapon, is a failure."
Jiro nodded, moving past the next branch instead of pushing it aside.
Yabu looked out at the bay, distant below their perch on the shoulder of the mountain, lightly screened by winter-stripped branches. The sparse snow clung to protected hollows, and the sky threatened another storm.
"It will be dark soon, we should head back."
"Yes, it will feel good to sit around the fire."
They started back down the mountain towards the thin lines of cookfires rising from the fishing village.
"Ah, Jiro-san, I think fortune smiles on you."
Jiro looked puzzled, "Why do you say that?"
"You are young, strong, confident; you are the retainer of a noble lord, making a name for yourself. Perhaps you will be a famous warrior one day. Perhaps a great general. Is it not the time of gekokujo, when an ashigaru may rise, even to become a daimyo, a great name?"
Silence greeted Yabu's comment as Jiro stared open mouthed, "I... thank you, Yabu-san."
"Hah! It is nothing to thank me for. No man can see another's destiny. Perhaps you will die starving in a gutter. I do not know. But it is ahead of you, and that is why I envy you."
"Why, Yabu-san?"
"What, why do I envy you? As I say, it is ahead of you. It is not ahead of me."
Jiro was silent for a long moment, and then laughed, "Alright Yabu, perhaps one day I will be a great general, or, perhaps it is my karma to die some place such as this island. But, none of that has happened yet, so let us return home for dinner, warm ourselves by the fire and await the morrow. Who knows, perhaps that day we will commit great deeds and make names for ourselves, neh?"
"Perhaps." Yabu shifted his yari from one shoulder to the other. "But more likely not. To dream of great deeds, of single combat on the bridge of flowers; this is for young men, like you. My deeds are nearly all behind me, now. As for you," he glanced at his young companion, "it is as the philosopher says. Youth is wasted on the young."
Jiro did not reply, but only stared silently at Yabu's retreating form. Then, with great care and deliberation, Jiro worked his way down the path, attempting to avoid the hanging branches and still move as silently as possible.