A Lesson in Dreaming

Shen had never fought so hard in his life. His legs quivered, and his arms barely held themselves up, much less his wooden training sword. His teacher, Master Fukuhashi, stood diametrically against him within the dojo. Despite the long training session, Master’s stance was still strong and ready as he faced down his student.

“Young Shen,” he said, “finish this fight.”

The boy hesitated. He knew what his teacher wanted him to do but not how to achieve that goal. He tried to analyze the situation, picturing the many different scenarios in his head.

I can try to attack Master’s feet . . .

Get myself out of a corner . . .

He’s completely guarded . . .

“Light strikes pave the path” . . .

He’s just too fast . . .

If I can just get around his sword . . .

Shen’s thoughts left his gaze blurry. He didn’t realize the master had already closed in on him.

Shen’s sword was beaten from his hands, and he was promptly knocked in the chest, landing on his backside. His teacher stood over him, his sword pointed at the boy’s head.

“You think too much, Young Shen,” Master said. “The fear of failure clouds your mind, and thus, your body refuses to act. If you truly wish to become a great warrior, you must learn to trust yourself.”

The boy sat up and bowed his head. “I apologize, Master.”

Fukuhashi turned and reset himself. “Again,” he said. “Until you can learn to trust your heart.”

Shen sharply exhaled, clapping his hands on his face and taking his sword. His stance was still weak, but with renewed vigor, he stood more firmly than before.

His teacher nodded for the session to begin, and Shen immediately began hypothesizing different attack paths.

Master Fukuhashi almost sighed as he began towards his student. Shen was only spared by a sharp knocking on the dojo’s door. The old man turned and reached the door in as much time as it took Shen to realize what had happened.

On the stone steps beyond the patio stood a courier, white headband soaked in sweat. “A letter for you, Master,” he said as he bowed. Fukuhashi took the paper, gazing upon it carefully. He broke the wax seal as his eyes glided up and down the address.

After a moment, the man took a breath and bowed to the courier in thanks. As the postman left, Fukuhashi turned back to his student. The boy felt a shiver run down his spine. Once again, he had frozen during a spar.

“Young Shen,” his teacher said, rather sternly. “Take a rest.”

The boy paused. Did I hear that correctly? he thought. “Master?”

“You heard me right, boy,” Fukuhashi affirmed. He then turned and left the dojo. Shen found himself tired, weak, and covered in sweat, with no one around to disturb him.

The boy suddenly realised his long-unquenched thirst. He stepped onto the patio, circling the dojo to the well in the garden. The summer sun beat down on him as he pulled fresh water up in the bucket.

One long, cool drink was enough for him. He knew he needed to continue training, even without his teacher. Shen would continue to strengthen his body until he could swing a real sword without effort. No, he thought, I will become strong enough to swing two! However, he decided to do so after the shortest rest he could afford himself.

Shen’s mind seamlessly brought him to the image of a beach, the sand in his toes, hearing the waves crash on the shore.

If he became the warrior Master Fukuhashi said he might be, he could be duelling on the wave-beaten rocks with the sun on his back.

The boy smiled. His duel would be one for love, not hatred. His opponent, a rival for the heart of the girl he was to marry. Spectacularly, his blade would win out, and his love would join him for a walk under the stars.

Their love would continue into a life of great adventure, filled with corrupt lords and deadly assassins. Fearsome warriors would be turned into faithful allies. Eventually, Shen and his wife would retire, and he would teach his young son everything he knew so the boy could live out his own adventures.

“Young Shen.” The boy awoke to find Master Fukuhashi standing over him, the golden sunlight of the evening reflected in his aged face.

Shen’s eyes widened as he realized. He bowed low enough to graze from a standing position.

“I apologize, Master! I meant to train while you were gone, but I failed to stop myself from falling asleep! Please forgive my weakness!”

Shen’s apology was interrupted by a soft chuckle. He looked up to see his teacher’s faint smile.

“I know you too well to be surprised by your dreaming, my boy,” Fukuhashi said. “It is part of your nature. To see everything that can be.”

Shen thought he saw a hint of redness in his teacher’s eyes.

Fukuhashi gestured for the boy to join him. “Come. We must close the dojo.”

As the pair closed the shutters, Master paused. “How about one more bout, Young Shen? Before we prepare dinner?”

The boy smiled at the opportunity. It’s time to show him I’ve changed, he thought.

The two took up their swords one last time, standing against each other. Fukuhashi nodded for the match to begin.

The teacher and student circled each other with matching steps. Shen’s mind frantically searched for a viable angle of attack.

Swipe the feet.

Knock the blade.

Divert his attention.

Is he too fast?

He knows what I’m going to do.

Master Fukuhashi closed in with a simple strike. Without thinking, Shen brought his sword up to block; his eyes widened from the quick reaction.

Once again, his teacher smiled. He tested the boy more, getting the same result. The spar had truly begun.

Fukuhashi launched into a series of attacks. Shen relied on his fundamental training to get by as he calculated.

Right side is open. The boy acted on his plan. His teacher blocked it, leaving his legs exposed.

Shen attacked again. And again. Each time, he found a new angle. When Fukuhashi struck back, he repositioned. He saw what he needed to do.

The boy moved in for a finishing attack. His victory cry rang into the night.

Then, his sword was beaten from his hands, and he felt the crushing weight of Fukuhashi’s palm on his back.

Shen was planted into the floor mat, confidence drained. As he turned onto his back, his teacher stood over him.

“It seems you have learned one lesson, Young Shen, but another has come in its place. Very much like myself when my master taught me.”

The boy nodded weakly. “Yes, Master.”

His teacher picked up both training swords. “Get started on dinner. I’ll finish up here.”

Shen slowly stood and bowed, exiting to the patio.

“And Young Shen?” the teacher said.

“Yes, Master?” Shen replied, concerned.

Master Fukuhashi did not turn when he stated, “If you continue to learn as you did tonight, you will become a great warrior.”