Heaven's Net Is Wide by Lian Hearn (good books to read for 12 year olds .TXT) 📕

has many weaknesses,” Shigeru said with pain. “If the Otori are defeated by the Tohan, it will be because of them.”

Matsuda said, “We hope the onset of war will be delayed long enough for you to take a greater part in the leadership of the clan. And we hope that you have escaped the same weaknesses,” he added dryly.

“You must already know what they are,” Shigeru replied, feeling the blood mount to his cheeks. “And they are many!”

“The usual Otori failings, no doubt. Overhasty temper, lack of patience, a tendency toward easy infatuation. These are minor defects that you will master.”

“I will make every effort to,” Shigeru promised.

11

The days fell into a regular pattern of meditation and exercise, like the recurring motifs in a woven cloth. In the middle of the day or after the evening meal, Matsuda often talked about the history and politics of the clan and the strategies of war. He questioned the young man about his previous teaching: Shigeru was expected to retain everything in his mind. Matsuda’s memory was astonishing, and Shigeru could feel his own becoming sharper as he absorbed all that the older man could tell him.

After two weeks of following his teacher’s movements daily and practicing on his own, Matsuda told him one morning to bring the poles to the training ground. Shigeru was amazed at how his muscles and coordination had improved. He had been considered a talented pupil in Hagi, but that boy had been clumsy and slow compared to what he had become. Now the pole became what the sword would be, an extension of his own arm and brain. It would move as fast as thought with all his strength behind the blow. And in its return it would be as flexible as his own muscles, as swiftly and easily manipulated as his own hand. Breathe in, breathe out. The emptiness of mind that he achieved in meditation he now entered into effortlessly. He did not think about whom he was in combat with; he forgot Matsuda was his teacher, was an illustrious warrior; he even put aside his overwhelming desire to outwit, outfight his opponent; he saw only the movements of the attack and his response in defense and counterattack.

IN THE LATE AFTERNOONS he explored the mountain paths, finding whatever wild food he could. Sometimes he thought he heard human movements or felt he was being watched, and once he came upon signs that someone had been digging up aconite, arum root, and bugloss. However, he saw no one in the forest, though every now and then a farmer or a village woman came from the hamlet with offerings of food. If they met, Matsuda would give them a blessing and urge them to drink from the spring, while Shigeru questioned them about their farms and crops, their weather predictions, their folktales and remedies. At first they were silenced by shyness, but as the weeks went by, they began to open up to him.

Matsuda teased him about it, saying he must have been a farmer in a former life.

“If we were only warriors, we would all starve,” Shigeru replied. “We should never forget who feeds us.”

“Already wiser than most warriors in Hagi,” Matsuda said, as if to himself.

“If there is to be war, I must be a warrior,” Shigeru said lightly. “But if peace prevails, I will be a farmer, and no one will go hungry in the entire Middle Country.”

The summer solstice came and then the days of the Great Festivals, but Matsuda gave no indication that they would return to the temple. A few days before the Festival of the Dead, two monks came from Terayama, bringing food, bags of rice and dried vegetables, a cask of pickles and one of salted fish. It seemed like a feast after the meager diet of the past weeks. They also brought news from Hagi of the good health of the Otori family and a letter from Takeshi.

“He asks if I have met any goblins,” Shigeru said, reading it eagerly. “He had a fall from Karasu, my black horse, and saw double for a day.” He felt the old anxiety threaten to rise and swallowed, willing it away. “I told him not to ride the black. He is barely broken and too strong for a child. I hope he is not hurt worse than he allows.”

They had brought no writing materials with them, so he could not write a reply, but the monks promised they would send messengers to Hagi to seek more news. They talked a little during the evening meal: events in the temple, the Abbot’s good health and spirits, the progress of the novices. The two visitors stayed the night and sat in silent meditation with Matsuda and Shigeru. The hut was too small for four, so Shigeru slept outside under the stars.

It was a sultry night and he slept lightly, his sleep broken by the hooting of owls, the croaking of frogs, whining mosquitoes; once a wolf howled in the distance, and just before dawn something padded past his head on soft paws; he opened his eyes to see a tanuki staring at him. When he moved, it slipped quickly under the hut.

He rose then and saw that the three men were awake-and must have been for some time, for they already sat in meditation. He joined them, drawing strength from the fading night and the growing daylight. He turned his thoughts to Takeshi and prayed his brother had recovered completely, though he wondered if any sort of prayer worked backward like that. Then he stilled his thoughts and concentrated on his breath.

When it was full daylight, Shigeru fetched water, blew gently on the embers of the fire and built it up, preparing the meal as he now did daily for Matsuda. With his plain hemp robe hitched into his belt, Shigeru looked no different from the monks, apart from his hair; he felt he could be one of them; the youngest,