Hyakkimaru's Birth
Book 1 of the Dororo Novel Series
Toriumi Jinzō
Part 3 - A Nightmarish Fate
Mount Wutai, Mount Emei, Mount Potolaka, and Mount Jiuhua were the four mountains that are most sacred to Buddhism in China. Manjushri, a benevolent Bodhisattva associated with wisdom, was believed to dwell on the highest peak of Mount Wutai. In life, Manjushri had lived near the mountain, so there were many temples and shrines dedicated to her. The mountain was a famous holy site that attracted pilgrims from all over, including Japan.
Tajumaru took a boat north past Beijing, then struck out toward the mountains to the west. Over three hundred and sixty temples dotted the five towering peaks of Mount Wutai. The tip of the highest peak was bare of trees and vegetation. It flattened out into a rock shelf, but the peak was too steep for most people to climb. If it were winter, it would be very dangerous to be up on that peak, exposed to the snow and biting wind.
When Tajumaru asked about Yōda in the village at the foot of the mountain, several people told him that they'd seen the hermit on the highest peak. Tajumaru sought shelter at the Gonsō Temple in the village. While there, he asked the monks about Yōda as well.
"It's foolish to try to meet him," one monk said. "It's said that he appears on the highest peak of the mountain once every three years. I heard that a man without a leg made it all the way up there and got a new leg from Yōda. Some people call him a wizard or magician. Many people travel up the mountain hoping to meet him, but he hasn't made any appearances recently that I know of. I'd give up if I were you. Climbing all the way up the mountain is dangerous."
Tajumaru was disappointed at what he learned, but not disheartened. He'd come all the way here from Hangzhō; he wasn't about to just turn tail and go home. It was possible that the rumor that Yōda only appeared once every three years was just that: a rumor. Other monks claimed that some people had waited as long as five years to catch a glimpse of him. Tajumaru was determined to wait, but he didn't know exactly where Yōda would appear.
"I intend to wait for a while," Tajumaru said to the monks of the Gonsō Temple. "Please allow me to stay."
The monks agreed. One gave him a kind smile. "Many travelers come through here, so we don't mind if you want to stay. You'll leave soon enough, like all the others do."
Once every three days after that, Tajumaru climbed to the top of Mount Wutai's highest peak and looked around. The view below him took his breath away. In some places, he stood above the clouds. He had the fanciful thought that Yōda might ride the clouds to get here, like a wizard in a folk tale.
As the season wore on, it started to snow overnight, dusting the peaks with frost. Tajumaru bought winter clothes and continued to climb the mountain every three days during the winter.
A year passed, then the next, all in the same way. Tajumaru climbed the mountain and searched for signs of Yōda, but he saw no footprints save for his own and those of animals. He decided to return to Hangzhō at the end of his third year of waiting.
I can't keep wasting time here based on nothing but rumors.
The sun sank on the horizon, casting the high mountain peak in deep red light. All five peaks of the mountain looked like they'd been set aflame. This was the last time Tajumaru intended to climb the mountain before returning home. He ceased his search and sat down for a moment, taking in the view.
There was a bright, sudden flash from above. Tajumaru got to his feet and stumbled backward. "Ah!" He shielded his eyes with his hand and tried to calm himself. He had probably just gotten too much sun in his eyes.
Tajumaru blinked out the after-image of the bright flash, but the illumination above him didn't fade. He couldn't tell where it was coming from.
"Tajumaru," a man behind him said. His voice was deep and quiet.
Tajumaru stood very still. No one on the mountain knew his name except for the monks of the Gonsō Temple. He mastered his apprehension and turned around.
An incredibly short old man stood on the flat rock shelf of Mount Wutai's highest peak. Tajumaru guessed that he was about three and a half feet tall, at most. His kimono had originally been white, but it was soiled with dirt and unlined; he looked like a beggar. His skin was sun-darkened and severely wrinkled. The light in his eyes was so bright that it was practically blinding. He had a presence about him that was intimidating and somehow dangerous.
"Are you Yōda?" Tajumaru asked.
"Follow me," the old man said. He jumped off the rock shelf and started walking down the mountain slope.
Tajumaru followed the old man. He was surprisingly fast for his height and age, and very light on his feet.
Is he really Yōda? Tajumaru thought. There were many pilgrims, monks, and temple helpers on the mountain. This old man could easily be one of them. Tajumaru hoped that he was Yōda, but he had no way to be sure.
They walked for a long way through the mountain forest until they reached a large stone cave. The mouth of the cave was so small that Tajumaru could barely fit through it, but the cave was much roomier inside. The ceiling was too high for Tajumaru to see. The old man guided him to a clear space farther into the cave and asked him to sit.
Was this the old man's home? Tajumaru saw a few battered wooden tables, Western-style chairs, a large pile of aged firewood and a low fire pit. Otherwise, he saw no other furniture or signs of habitation. The old man added some firewood to the fire pit, then extended his hands out. The pile of wood instantly caught fire.
Tajumaru hadn't seen the old man strike a flint or anything—had he set the fire with magic? Or was it some kind of illusion or trick? Tajumaru had seen street performers eat and breathe fire in Kyōto as a child. Perhaps what the old man had just done was something similar.
The light of the fire illuminated the inside of the cave. The old man brought his face close to the fire. Tajumaru felt comfortable warmth seep into his bones and settled down to wait for the old man to explain himself.
"So you've been staying at the temple at the foot of the mountain," the old man muttered. "How pointless."
The old man knew that he was staying at Gonsō Temple. He even knew his name. There were many pilgrims on the mountain, so Tajumaru couldn't help but feel like he'd been singled out in some way. He desperately wanted to know if the old man was actually Yōda.
"I want to make prosthetic limbs that move like real ones," Tajumaru said.
The old man pointed to the pile of firewood in the corner. A piece of wood rose in midair, then flew to the old man's side. Tajumaru didn't see any strings that could have been used to pull the wood to him. Was this magic of some kind, related to the way he'd lit the fire without a flint?
The old man rolled back the sleeves of his kimono and started feeding pieces of wood into the fire pit.
"Have you gone mute?" the old man asked.
Before Tajumaru could reply, the old man’s arms came free from his shoulders. They'd been attached at his shoulders by long metal wires.
"Ah!" Tajumaru gasped in shock.
The old man's arms shot through the air at high speed as the firewood had before. His legs detached as well, protruding from his kimono before flying free. Lines of metal wire glinted where his limbs had once been.
The old man's torso sat upright, lacking both arms and legs. No one would have guessed that his limbs were artificial and attached to him by wire. Tajumaru himself would have sworn that they were real arms and legs just moments before, despite all his years of experience with surgery and prosthetics.
Tajumaru was certain that the old man was Yōda—who else could accomplish such a thing?
Tajumaru crawled onto his hands and knees and pressed his hands together in supplication. "I'm terribly sorry if I've offended you, sir—Yōda."
Yōda chuckled, then summoned his limbs back to their wire-threaded joints. He rearranged his kimono neatly. "I do not want my knowledge to die with me," he said. "I've been waiting for a doctor who is worthy and capable. That might be you." He frowned a little.
"You've been waiting...for me?" Tajumaru asked.
"Perhaps. Though I'm still not sure you're suited to the training required."
"I would do anything—sacrifice anything—to create prosthetic limbs that move like real ones. Please teach me."
"Learning the methods to do that is extremely difficult."
"I expect it would be," Tajumaru said. "I'm prepared."
Yōda thought for a moment. "Anyone can learn the theory, but to put the principles of free movement into practice, you'll need to cultivate your own energy and strength. The power that allows my prosthetic limbs to move exists in the air all around us, but it's invisible. If you and the patients you treat learn to channel this power, you should see good results."
"Do all people have the ability to channel this power?" Tajumaru asked.
"Yes. But different people have different limits."
"Do I have a high potential for channeling this power?" he asked. He was trying to understand why Yōda had chosen him to teach.
"It's hard to tell yet," Yōda said. "If the training I offer proves too difficult for you, you can always withdraw. I don't expect you to fail, but it's impossible to measure potential. Much depends on your own will. To use this power, you must rely on your senses and perception."
"Senses and perception?" Tajumaru asked. That seemed strange to him. How could he sense this power if it was invisible? Was there another way to interact with it?
"Once you've grasped it, you won't ever lose it," Yōda said. "It's grasping it that's the trick. And if you lose control of the power during your training, it could kill you."
The power that Yōda was speaking of had been used to move firewood and his prosthetic limbs through the air.
Tajumaru pressed his hands together again and bowed his head. "Please teach me," he said. "No matter how hard the training is, I promise that I will do it."
"Very well," Yōda said. "I will give you a new name, to help encourage the energy inside you in a new direction."
Tajumaru dropped his face to the floor. "I will accept it, as your student and disciple."
Yōda considered for a moment, then nodded. "I will call you Jukai, from the kanji for 'longevity' and 'ocean.'1 Be a doctor who brings long life to the sick and injured, regardless of where they may live in the world."
"Jukai...yes." Tajumaru brought his chin to his chest in acknowledgement.
And so, Jukai became Yōda's apprentice. He trained to unlock the hidden potential inside himself for many years. He didn't return to Gonsō Temple; the monks there assumed that he had vanished. Jukai saw no other people except for Yōda until his training was complete. He swore an oath to Yōda that he would keep his existence a secret from the outside world.
***
Yōda's training was, indeed, severe. Jukai worked with him every day from dawn until dusk, regardless of the weather.
"First, follow me and imitate what I do," Yōda said.
The first morning, Yōda and Jukai sat in a meditation pose beneath a waterfall. The waterfall itself was very thin, but it flowed down from a great height. The noise it made shook the ground beneath them.
"Ignore the sound of the waterfall," Yōda said. "Feel nothing within yourself except stillness. Then search for points of light in the air around you."
Jukai tried so hard that his forehead beaded with sweat, but he saw nothing at all in the crystal-clear air. When he and Yōda took a break to eat rice gruel, Jukai frowned at the salty flavor.
"Jukai," Yōda said, "What food tastes more terrible than all the others?"
"Salt," Jukai said, frowning down at his bowl.
"And what's the one food that people can't live without?" Yōda asked.
"Um...rice, isn't it?"
"No, it's also salt," Yōda said. "All animals need salt to live. It's the quantity of salt that makes food taste appetizing or unappetizing. Poisons are the same. A small amount of an herb may be used as medicine, but a large dose can kill. This is a basic law of nature."
The weather on the mountain was subject to sudden changes. On a day when the sky was thick with clouds, Yōda took Jukai out into a grove of cedar trees on the forest slope. He and Jukai took shelter under a large tree when it started raining.
Lightning forked in the sky. Thunder boomed, shaking the leaves on the trees. Rain fell fast and in sheets. Yōda and Jukai stood under the large cedar, soaked to the skin despite the tree's protection. Jukai's legs shook from cold, and a little bit from fear.
Yōda folded his arms, then walked out from under the cover of the tree. Another tree directly in front of him was struck by lightning and went up in flames.
"Fold your arms," Yōda commanded.
Jukai folded his arms. His hands were shaking. He looked up at the stormy sky with clear apprehension.
"Make your hands into fists," Yōda said.
Jukai clenched his hands into hard fists, but they were still shaking.
"Close your eyes and look at your fists," Yōda said.
It was impossible for Jukai to see his fists with his eyes closed. Jukai was thoroughly confused.
"Look with your mind's eye," Yōda said.
Jukai tilted his head down so that his fists would be in his line of sight. He tried to envision what they looked like in his mind. Suddenly, his hands stopped shaking. He was still terrified of the storm, but focusing on something else decreased his anxiety.
"You must not be afraid of nature, Jukai," Yōda said. "Don't be dismissive of it, either. Our bodies are natural organisms. Understanding nature's power is the key to realizing your ambitions."
This was the fundamental principle of Hamara Genyōhiken—monster and spirit exorcism.
"Bodhidharma2 prayed at Chongshan Temple for nine straight years in meditation. He had lost his arms and legs. At the end of that time, I came to him and gave him new limbs, as well as the ability to use them. The patient needs to learn, too. The method is called psychokinesis."
Only one man picked out of a thousand had the potential to develop psychokinesis, though Yōda claimed that the ability had been much more common in the past. However, even those who possessed the latent talent for psychokinesis always struggled to use it. Yōda had taken many apprentices in the past. Most of them had failed to develop their own potential.
Yōda's own limbs didn't look or feel any different from real ones, at least from the outside. He allowed Jukai to examine the joints and test their strength and range of movement. If he really could develop his own psychokinetic potential, he would be able to create and manipulate prosthetic limbs like Yōda's.
***
Jukai spent eight years studying with Yōda. Jukai had a keen interest in Yōda's past, but he almost never spoke of it during their long practice sessions together. "I've asked this before, but... Master, what kind of life did you have growing up? Where are you from?"
Yōda stared down Jukai. "I don't discuss my past."
Jukai considered that Yōda might have a painful reason for concealing the details of his life. He bowed his head. "Please forgive me. That was rude."
Yōda smiled sadly and said nothing more. It was the first time Yōda had ever smiled at Jukai.
Jukai's training continued for three years after that. His clothing became filthy and torn. His body was lean and toned and his skin was black with soot. Only his eyes shone brightly on his face. Anyone who saw him would think he was a madman or a beggar.
One night, Yōda came to him after dinner and said, "Jukai, follow me."
Yōda led Jukai to Mount Wutai's highest peak and faced north. Jukai had climbed this peak many times before, but he'd never been to the specific place where Yōda led him.
Yōda stood at the very edge of a rock ledge with his face to the sky. The mist on the mountain parted around the peak, revealing bright stars overhead. A flash of lightning cut through the thin clouds above, but there was no thunder.
Jukai had an uneasy feeling being in this place. It was like being completely cut off from the world. Yōda seemed to sense his loneliness and came closer. Then he looked up at all the glittering stars and pointed to one.
"Do you know that star?" Yōda asked.
Jukai looked up, then nodded. "That's the North Star."
"Describe it to me," Yōda said.
"The North Star lies in the compass direction of true north and doesn't shift," Jukai said.
"Other stars move around the North Star, but the North Star doesn't move. That's what most people think. But the North Star hasn't always been the North Star. It, too, moves slowly, though most people never live long enough to notice," Yōda said.
Jukai had always believed that the North Star was fixed in place. Sailors used it to navigate; Namitarō had told him all about it.
"For thousands of years, the North Star has been a guiding light for mankind—even though it hasn't always been the same star. Tracking the North Star's movements allows us to understand the past. Someday, a new North Star will guide the way for us."
"A new North Star?" Jukai asked.
Yōda looked up at the very top of the mountain, mere yards from where Jukai stood. "Seven hundred and seventy-five years ago, an old Buddhist monk stood in this very spot."
Jukai had climbed Mount Wutai as a young man. He found it difficult to imagine an aged monk making such an arduous trek.
Yōda's body hardened into clay before Jukai's eyes.
"Ah!"
Yōda glowed faintly in the darkness. Light hovered around him, then scattered in all directions. When some of the light passed through Jukai, a full-body shiver went through him. The shadowy figure of an old monk appeared behind Yōda, chanting a prayer to Amida Buddha with his eyes cast down and his hands clasped together.
The old monk's clear voice echoed in the dark. Red light streamed from him into the ground below. Jukai felt like he was hallucinating; none of what he saw appeared real. He stood witness to the bizarre sight and couldn't bring himself to blink or look away.
"Jukai."
Yōda's voice brought Jukai's confused thoughts back into focus.
"Long ago, the Empress Wu Zetian3 went to the Longmen Grottoes to pray to Viarocana, the buddha representing the concept of 'void' or 'emptiness.' At that time, she met a Buddhist scholar and teacher, Shandao."4
Jukai nodded. "I've heard of him. My other told me a little about Pure Land Buddhism."5 Shandao had written extensively on the topic.
"A great deal of sacred power exists in places like this," Yōda said. "Mountaintops, shrines, and temples have always been considered holy ground, but sacred power exists everywhere, though not in equal amounts. The land remembers human history, along with all the birth and death that has occurred. Skilled users of psychokinesis can draw out power from the earth and use it for themselves."
Yōda looked up a the North Star again. "Jukai," he said, "my long life is nearing its end."
"What?"
"I will give you everything that I have left to encourage your potential further," Yōda said, "but tonight is the end."
"What do you mean, the end?" Jukai asked. "You can't be dying, you—"
"—my spirit will remain at your side," Yōda said, interrupting him. "You will hear me whenever you need help with psychokinesis, or when there are people in distress who need you to save them."
Jukai wanted to say something in reply, but he was crying so much that he couldn't form words. He hadn't expected to part from Yōda so soon.
"Goodbye, Jukai."
Jukai could only hear Yōda's voice. His body had completely disappeared.
Tears streamed down Jukai's face like rain as he looked up at the North Star. "Yōda..."
The star shone brightly and guided him safely down the mountain.
***
Jukai returned to Hangzhō at the beginning of spring. When he passed through Gonsō Temple again, he was given food, lodging, and clean clothes. It was now the reign of Emperor Zhu Qizhen, who continued the peaceful and benevolent rule of his immediate predecessors.
Jukai found Teihō at Gōshō's estate, still as healthy and strong as when he'd left. She hadn't seen or had word from Jukai in more than thirteen years. She'd laid flowers on his old uniform for much of that time, believing him dead.
The brave explorer Zheng He had died shortly after completing his seventh grand voyage, in 1449. He was sixty-four years old at his death.
Namitarō had continued sending letters to Gōshō's estate in Jukai's absence. One of these letters informed Jukai that Nadaemon had died. His prosthetic leg had never been repaired properly, and the repairs that had been done caused pain and bruising on his stump. He'd fallen off a cliff after losing his footing. Jukai would never get to fix Nadaemon's leg now, though he'd always intended to someday.
Jukai made his rounds to various friends and patients who had thought him dead, hoping to recapture some of the stability of his old life, but the more people he visited, the lonelier he became. He'd been gone too long; everyone's lives had moved on without him. He decided that it was finally time for him to return to Japan.
Jukai sent a letter to Namitarō, who came to get him in Hangzhō in October of that year. Jukai collected his meager belongings and some back pay, then said farewell to Teihō.
Jukai arrived in Japan on Namitarō's ship at the end of October. Namitarō had become a merchant and the captain of his father's ship in the years since he and Jukai had last met. Like Jukai, he was already past fifty years old. It had been thirty-eight years since they'd set sail from Karatsu together.
1 The name ‘Jukai,’ in Japanese, is rendered 寿海.↩
2 Bodhidharma was a legendary Buddhist monk who lived during the 5th or 6th century. He is traditionally credited as the transmitter of Buddhism to China, and regarded as its first Chinese patriarch. According to Chinese legend, he also began the physical training of the monks of Shaolin Monastery that led to the creation of Shaolin Kung Fu. In Japan, he is known as Daruma.↩
3 Wu Zetian (17 February 624 – 16 December 705) was the only legitimate female sovereign in the history of China. Under her 40-year reign, China grew larger, corruption in the court was reduced, its culture and economy were revitalized, and it was recognized as one of the great powers of the world.↩
4 Shandao was an influential writer for the Pure Land Buddhism, prominent in China, Korea, Vietnam and Japan. His writings had a strong influence on later Pure Land masters including Hōnen and Shinran in Japan.↩
5 Pure Land Buddhism is built on the belief that
there will never be a world which is not corrupt, so the rebirth in
another plane, referred to as the "Pure Land," is the goal.↩
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