Love s MastersChapter 3 Rings of the Master
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After getting settled in our hotel room, I used their WiFi connection and my laptop to locate a rental agency that we hadn’t used previously, and made a reservation for an SUV to be picked up tomorrow morning at 10:00. This would give us plenty of time to get up, chant, exercise, and have breakfast before picking up the new vehicle.
It was too early for dinner or supper when I finished, and Grace had a question for me.
“Just who was this Yagyu Jubei, and what did you have to do with him?” she asked.
“The Yagyu clan developed a unique school of swordsmanship in Japan during the 16th century. Later its masters served as instructors and as advisers to the Tokugawa shoguns, who ruled Japan for many years. This was a very high honor. Jubei was born in 1607 and became an attendant at the court in Edo in 1616, where he instructed Tokugawa Iemitsu for a time, who eventually became the third Tokugawa shogun.
“Jubei disappeared from the records for a time following that, but reappeared in 1631 at the age of 24 when he is regarded as the best swordsman in the Yagyu clan. I found him later that year in the red light district of Edo (present-day Tokyo) which was called Shin Yoshiware at the time. He was drunk and lying in the street. Though he was a great swordsman, he had a secret that caused him to drink too much, so he wouldn’t think about it. I detected his problem when I stopped to help him, though I was unaware of who he was at the time. Not only was he drunk, but he was having a heart attack when I found him.
“I took him to a cheap hotel and tried to work on his heart problem, but it was no use. He died soon after we reached the room. I had seen in his mind who he was, and how much he regretted that he would be unable to continue the work of his family and their school which was called the Yagyu Shinkage ryu. I took the measure of him while he still lived and again scanned his mind for important family memories.
“After he died, I left the hotel telling the owner not to bother my friend, as he was asleep. Later, I returned unobserved, stripped the body, and assumed his appearance before dropping him in the nearby river naked and unidentifiable. In the morning, I emerged dressed in his clothing appearing to be recovering from the drunkenness of the previous night.
“Within a few days, I approached Iemitsu with the idea of gathering intelligence on the various daimyo or provincial leaders who were plotting against him, as I had already been doing that on my own. We devised a plan where he would dismiss Jubei from the court because of his drunkenness plus his boldness and brashness, which had already upset a number of those at the court, but they were afraid to cross swords with one acknowledged to be the best swordsman there.
“For the next twelve years, I spied on the shogun’s enemies and pursued justice for those unable to achieve it themselves. Technically, I was on a Warrior’s Pilgrimage seeking instruction at various ryus, but in fact I was spying on those plotting against the shogun, and righting what were considered wrongs in the culture of that place and time,” I told her.
“What eventually became of Jubei?” Grace asked when I paused.
“After twelve years, when he would have been 36, I reappeared at the court at a demonstration of swordsmanship in front of the Shogun, where I defeated all of the others and was reinstated. Of course, I had seen Iemitsu secretly a few days before that to make my final report. Three years later Jubei’s father, Munenori, died, and I took control of the family domains, but after a few years of living in Edo, I left my civic duties as Jubei and returned to the Yagyu village.
“By 1650 when Jubei would have been 43 years old, I was anxious to be out from under the duties as the head of the Yagyu clan and arranged for his death. It occurred in the small village of Oh-kawahara Mura while I was falcon hunting. I made it appear that his death was due to a heart attack, which was what the real Jubei had died of. Posthumously, Jubei was given the Buddhist name Soh-go, which was the password that I gave Ryoko and what so startled her,” I finished.
“What did you do after that?” Grace asked.
“I returned to the Warrior’s Pilgrimage for a time before tiring of Japan and left for many years. It was during this second pilgrimage that I encountered the Kotaro clan who were under attack by a group of rogue Samurai. After dispatching all of them, I helped the Kotaros regain their land and possessions. They swore to serve me in any capacity for the rest of time. Later before leaving Japan, I left my swords in their keeping. I returned occasionally to check on their clan and the swords. I had spent 19 years impersonating Jubei, but that was a long time ago,” I finished.
Later, we had dinner and a good night’s sleep after a little sex. We were up early the next morning, Saturday the 6th of May. There was plenty of time for what had become our daily routine, and we were at the rental agency just before 10:00 to pick up the new SUV. I used the Johnathon Good identity, and we had no trouble getting the vehicle. Immediately after transferring our possessions to the new SUV, I turned in the other one.
We departed Cincinnati on I-75 just after 11:00 that morning, and followed it south to its intersection with I-71, which we took to Louisville, Kentucky where we transferred to I-64. We took I-64 all of the way to Saint Louis. We had been on the road for over eight hours counting the time needed to stop for fuel and eating.
After securing a room at a hotel near the Interstate in Saint Louis, we went out for a dinner of steak and a few vegetables. There was no sex that night, just a bit of chanting following a shower. It was late when we arose in the morning, but we chanted for a short time before having a good workout followed by a fast shower and breakfast, as we were anxious to get back on the road. While I was fueling the vehicle that morning, I was interrupted by someone behind me.
“Sensei!” someone said in a voice betraying wonder. I turned to see who had addressed me.
“Sensei, it is you!” said a man of about 55 years of age in an amazed voice. He was about 5’-10’’ tall, and in very good shape.
“Do I know you?” I asked on seeing him but not recognizing him. Grace had also returned from the convenience store of the filling station. The man gasped on seeing her also.
“Gwen!” he said in shock.
“Who are you?” Grace asked in a puzzled voice.
“I’m Tom Beaufort. I was a student at Sensei’s dojo in Atlanta when I was in my early twenties,” he told us. I remembered him now. He had been very young, but was one of my better students.
“Neither of you look more than a year older than when you closed the dojo,” he continued before a shocked look appeared on his face. “That was 33 years ago!” he finished in an amazed voice.
“You look well Tom. Have you continued your studies?” I asked, not knowing what to say after so long a time.
“Yes Sensei, I’m now Rokuden, sixth dan black belt, and have a small dojo. I’m here with some of my students for a tournament this weekend. Today is the final round. It started yesterday with the elimination rounds,” he told us, before something occurred to him.
“Could you come to the tournament? No one I’ve seen in years is as good as you are,” he asked in a hopeful voice.
“I haven’t done anything in years. In fact, Grace and I have only sparred a few times since getting back together,” I told him to a frown.
“Grace?”
“Gwen is using Grace as her name now,” I told him, and she smiled at him.
“I’m also using a different name now,” I also told him to a frown.
“We work for an Agency that doesn’t like us to use our real names. They are a bit anal about it,” Grace told him with a wink.
“Could both of you just come and observe?” he asked in a hopeful voice. Grace and I looked at each other for a few seconds.
“All right, we’ll have to dig out our gis to be properly attired though,” I told him. We both finished fueling our vehicles, and we followed Tom to the auditorium where the tournament was being held. Grace dug a clean pair of sparing clothes out of the baggage for each of us, and we followed Tom into the auditorium. We were stopped just inside after Tom showed the security guard his pass.
“Who are these people with you?” the guard demanded.
“This is my original Sensei. He is Hanahi, or a master, and the lady is one of his students,” Tom explained.
“All right, as long as you vouch for them,” the guard said and handed us visitor’s passes to wear while in the building.
We all used the locker rooms to change. Grace used the women’s room. It wasn’t very busy she told me later. The men’s locker room was quite busy with participants of all ages in there changing. Both Grace and I wore gray belts with red stripes to close our gi. There were a number of young men who gathered around Tom after we had changed.
“These are some of my students. Two of them are in the finals,” he told me in a voice full of pride. I received some questioning looks from several of the young men who were looking at the belt holding my gi closed as it wasn’t one of the traditional colors used to denote rank.
“This is the first Sensei that I trained under. He’s retired now,” Tom told his students to try to explain the gray belt that I was wearing.
It was soon time to assemble on the floor where the competition was being held. We all waited in the hallway for our dojo to be introduced before filing out to join the other participants from the various dojos represented. Tom insisted that Grace and I sit with him near the front row of seats, where those still in contention were seated.
There were seven other dojos present and each appeared to have a couple of students still in the competition. There was one dojo in particular that I noticed. Their Sensei was a large man who seemed very loud and angry even before the competition resumed. He was wearing a black belt indicating that he was fifth dan.
His students were also very aggressive and in short order had eliminated the contenders from a number of the other dojos. Tom’s students would be up against them shortly, as the others present didn’t seem to be able to defeat them. I had watched their moves and had whispered to Tom’s students the things to look for and how to counter their moves. I had no idea of how good his students were but felt sure my advice would help them. The first one was soon called to face the challenger.
He was a bit upset having seen how the other students who had faced this one were defeated. I gave him a few extra words of advice before he went out on the floor to face his opponent. Although the match didn’t last very long, it was much longer than any of the previous ones had been. Still, Tom’s student lost.
Tom’s second student was to face the other challenger. This young man was a bit older than the first student, and I gave him some additional tips after seeing the longer match. This match resulted in a draw, as neither student could defeat the other in the time allowed for the match.
The Sensei of the other dojo was livid on hearing the results of the match, and berated his student for not winning. However, he soon switched tactics when he realized that I had been coaching Tom’s students. He then addressed the judges.
“I demand to know who the man is who is sitting with the other dojo and advising the students there rather than their regular Sensei,” he demanded, pointing at me. Tom didn’t look well on hearing this. The judges were conferring during the silence that followed the demand, but soon the middle one stood to speak.
“We find the request reasonable. Sensei Beaufort, who is the man sitting with you?” the Chief Judge asked. Tom rose to answer him, and I rose with him.
“Master, this is my first Sensei from when I started to study the Martial Arts,” Tom told him. “He is retired now and has no dojo or students except the lady with him,” Tom finished.
“Retired?” the judge asked taking in my appearance.
“It was 35 years ago when I started at his dojo in Atlanta,” Tom told him to clarify things.
“What is your name, Sensei, and what belt are you wearing?” the Chief Judge asked next.
“You may address me as ‘the One-eyed Tengu’,” I told him having considered what name to use.
“I see,” the judge replied. “You are from one of the Japanese schools then, and the belt?” he asked next.
“It s the belt of my former dojo. Once one had achieved the gray belt, there were only four other ranks. My student has one red stripe, and I have four as you can see,” I told him.
“I want to know what he was telling those other two students,” the aggressive Sensei demanded.
“I was giving them hints on what to look for in their opponents attack,” I told the judge without the question being asked officially.
“This is within the rules. A master may advise his students on what to look for in an opponent. You are a master, are you not?” the judge asked.
“I have been a master for a long time. Sensei Beaufort was one of the last students at my dojo in Atlanta,” I told him.
“I want proof that he is what he claims to be,” the aggressive Sensei demanded in an angry voice.
“You said that you were retired. You do not need to accept this challenge if you are retired,” the judge informed me.
“Master, I would have to be dead and in my coffin before I wouldn’t accept a challenge from someone like this man,” I told the judge.
“Very well, when will you be ready to hold the match?” the judge asked.
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