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fasting, developing skills of mind and body that most men did not even dream of.

So Shigeru had heard from his companions in Hagi, but what he remembered most clearly from his previous visits was the older man’s bright eyes and serene expression, filled with wisdom and humor.

Here, deep in the forest, cicadas droned incessantly. The horses’ necks turned dark with sweat as the climb grew steeper. The air beneath the huge trees was humid and still. By the time they reached the inn at the foot of the steps to the temple, it was almost midday. Here they dismounted and washed hands and feet, drank tea, and ate a little. Shigeru changed his clothes and put on more formal attire. It was almost unbearably sultry; the day had darkened and clouds were massing in the West. Irie was anxious about returning to Yamagata. Shigeru told him to leave at once.

Several of the men stayed at the inn with their horses. They would remain there for the entire year in case Shigeru needed them. The rest returned with Irie, first to Yamagata, then, when the weather allowed it, to Hagi. There was no time for long farewells-rain was already threatening. Two monks had come from the temple to greet Shigeru. He gave one final look at Irie and his men, one of them leading Karasu, as they rode back down the mountain path, the banners with the Otori heron floating above the last horse, and then followed the monks as they began to climb the steep stone steps. Servants trailed after him with baskets and boxes, his other clothes, presents for the temple, Eijiro’s writings, and scrolls from Yamagata.

The monks did not speak to him. He was alone with his thoughts, a mixture of anticipation at this new stage of his life and apprehension, knowing that the training and discipline would be immensely demanding; fearing it would be too hard, that he would fall short or fail, conscious-overconscious, maybe-of who he was; not wanting to disgrace his father and his own name. He had no intention of sharing these misgivings with anyone, but when he came through the temple gates where Matsuda was waiting for him in the first courtyard, he felt that the older man’s penetrating eyes could see through his chest and read the records of his heart.

β€œWelcome, Lord Shigeru. I consider it a great honor that your father has entrusted you to my care. I will take you to meet our Abbot and show you your room.”

As they stepped out of their sandals onto the boards of the cloister, Matsuda added, β€œYou are to lead the life of a novice, apart from studying with me. Therefore you will sleep and eat with the monks and join them in meditation and prayer. You will have no special privileges while you are here. If you are to be trained in self-mastery, the more humble your spirit the better.”

Shigeru said nothing, not sure how this humbleness would sit with his awareness of his position as heir. He was not used to thinking of others as superior or even as his equals. His rank had been instilled into him in many subtle ways since he was born. He hoped he was not arrogant-he knew he was not humble.

They walked past the main hall, where lamps glowed around the golden figure of the Enlightened One. Incense filled the air, and Shigeru was conscious of many half-hidden monks in the dimness; he felt the power of their concentration, and something within him lifted in response, as if his spirit had been touched and wakened.

β€œYes, your father judged it right. You are ready,” Matsuda murmured, and Shigeru felt his apprehension fall away.

The Abbot was a tiny, wizened man-Shigeru had never seen anyone so old. He must have been at least eighty. Men were considered adults at sixteen, women at fifteen; age twenty-five to thirty was the prime of life, forty already approaching old age. Few lived beyond sixty years. Matsuda must be close to fifty, the same age as his father-and next to the Abbot he looked like a young man.

The old man was supported by armrests, but he still sat erect, legs folded beneath him. Like Matsuda, he wore a plain monk’s robe, woven from hemp and dyed brown. His head was shaved. Round his neck was a string of ivory prayer beads, from which hung a silver amulet with a strange engraving on it, holding inside a prayer written in some distant temple on the mainland-in Tenjiku itself possibly. Shigeru bowed to the floor before him. The old man did not speak but exhaled deeply.

β€œSit up,” Matsuda murmured. β€œThe Lord Abbot wishes to see your face.”

Shigeru raised himself, his own eyes carefully cast down, while the other’s bright black eyes studied him. Still the old man did not speak.

Glancing up, Shigeru saw him nod twice. Then the eyes slowly closed.

Matsuda touched Shigeru on the shoulder and they both lowered their foreheads to the floor. A strange fragrance emanated from the old man, not the sour smell of age that might have been expected, but a sweet rich scent that hinted at everlasting life. Yet the old man seemed only a breath away from death.

Matsuda confirmed this as they left. β€œThe Lord Abbot will depart from us shortly. He has been awaiting your arrival. He wanted to advise on your studies. Once that is done, he will be free to leave us.”

β€œDoes he ever speak?” Shigeru asked.

β€œVery rarely now, but those of us who have served him for many years have an understanding with him.”

β€œI suppose Lord Matsuda will become Abbot in his place?”

β€œIf the temple and the clan desire me to, I cannot refuse,” Matsuda replied. β€œBut for now I am a humble monk, one among many, no different from any other, except that I have the honor to be your teacher.” He smiled radiantly when he said this. β€œI am looking forward to it! This is where you will sleep.”

The room was

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