The Black Samurai Series Volume One by Marc Olden

Author:Marc Olden
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: MysteriousPress.com/Open Road
Published: 2017-07-27T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 2

Training

THE YOUNG BLACK MAN and the old Japanese man were alone in the small, unheated dojo, their feet scraping across the worn yellow straw mats. Robert Sand, the black man, moved in swift powerful karate techniques. The small white-haired Japanese man, his face aged and wrinkled like a lemon too long in the sun, circled around him, observing, correcting, criticizing.

Sand had prepared carefully for this month, 30 days of special karate and judo training in the small town of Okai, Japan. His sensei, his teacher, for these 30 days was Master Kisao, 79 years old and a former comrade of Master Konuma, the man who had accepted Sand for Samurai training almost eight years ago. Konuma was dead now, brutally murdered, his murder avenged by Sand.

Several letters and inquiries were necessary to locate Master Kisao, followed by more letters to arrange a personal meeting. Years ago Kisao had trained with Master Konuma, and like him, had retired to a small village to live out his days in peace. He did not train much any more, nor did he accept students.

Kisao did train a little. In letters exchanged with his old comrade Konuma, he had learned of the extraordinary black man Konuma was training as a Samurai. He had remembered Konuma’s praise of Robert Sand. That’s why he had agreed to see the black Samurai, to give him special training. Above all, Kisao wanted to talk with someone who had known his old comrade.

The training was brutal. Intense and concentrated, seven days a week, with emphasis equally on technique and concentration. Both men spoke only Japanese, and for a week Sand had found it difficult again to eat a diet of all Japanese food. After a week, raw fish, rice, and seaweed tasted good, and the hard training lifted his heart back to his happy, satisfying years with Master Konuma and the Japanese men Sand had learned to call brothers.

No doubt about it, Western living was too easy. “In the West, you do not walk, you ride,” said Master Kisao. “That is bad. Must walk. A man must walk. Strengthens his legs. Why do you sit on chairs in the West? You must remember, because you are much Japanese, no? Sit on the floor. Remember.”

The black man smiled. It wasn’t easy to sit on the floor all the time, but the old man was right. Life was too easy in the West. Too easy. What wasn’t easy were the occasional feelings Sand had of not knowing who he was. He was black and American, yet he had spent the most important part of his life in the Far East, training intensely to become a fighting warrior belonging to another century.

He smiled again. Black Samurai. Well, it wasn’t always confusing. He felt much better when he just accepted the fact that his life was different and would always be so. As long as he had the strength he could do and be what he wanted. Accept it, that was the best way.

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