Modern Budo

The Prince lived on beautiful royal grounds. Intricate gardens of colourful flowers and orderly bushes grew within acres of lush green grass. Water flowed gracefully from elegant fountains. In a few select gardens, sculptures of marble lions and broad shouldered warriors stood poised – their appearance defying the predominant sense of serenity. Two creeks carved across the land. The first, Civil Creek, was located at the centre of the royals grounds. The other, Ditch Creek, existed closer to the edge. Civil Creek was once home to all manners of fish and wildlife. When the royalty decided to straighten its banks (in an effort to groom its disposition) all fish reproduction stopped and wildlife disappeared. Ditch Creek, on the other hand, was left in its natural state. Its unregulated banks provided great habitat for all manners of life. The Prince would spend all his free time at Ditch Creek. From dawn until dusk he would muck about the shallows hunting fish and frogs. What was hidden beneath the veil of water? Or under the rocks? He revelled in every mystery. A day spent at The Creek would always end with The Prince excitedly bringing  home a string of frog and fish carcasses to show his parents. The King and Queen, being good parents and seeing their son breathless with excitement, would participate with a show of praise and amazement. 

In addition to providing The Prince with hunting grounds, Ditch Creek inspired an incredible array of fantasies. Enemy soldiers and dragons provided moments of thrilling tension. Those moments inspired the creation of weapons, traps and all manners of special equipment, tools and tactics. The Prince fashioned everything with amazing detail and precision. The Prince’s special aptitude would occupy all moments that were not at Ditch Creek. His parents were dazzled by the collection of swords, shields, bows, axes and catapults. They were glad to see their son exhibit such a high degree of engagement, diligence and creativity. The King and Queen, while reminding The Prince to be  responsible with his creations, were generous with their compliments and encouragement. 

Ditch Creek was heaven on earth to The Prince. Mosquitoes, black flies and even the cold could not deter the boy from his adventures. He learned to identify and avoid poison ivy, stinging nettles and thorny bushes. Nothing could deter him from pursuing his ambitions. 

One summer day, down at Ditch Creek, the Prince was knee deep in the water chasing fish when he heard the sound of approaching voices. The Prince looked up from the water flowing between his ankles and saw that a group of four boys were walking toward him. The boys, all in their early teens, were walking along the path towards the castle. They were The Prince’s cousins who lived on properties adjacent to the royal grounds. The path, know as “The Divide” led north to the west wing of the royal castle. The west wing held a school for local boys and girls. The four cousins stopped abruptly and stared at the Prince. 

“What are you doing?” Remarked one boy incredulously.

“Mucking around like a pig!” Snorted another.

“How embarrassing. We thought you were royal” laughed cousin number three. 

The Prince froze. Everything around him – the fish, the water, the trees, the sunlight – vanished. His focus entirely shifted inward. How did he look? What was he feeling? How was he going to react?

The four boys stood and laughed. The Prince said nothing. He stepped out of The Creek and onto the path. 

On firm ground The Prince looked down at his feet. His shoes were soaked and caked in mud. His exposed shins were scraped and dirty. Shorts and shirt were covered in nettles and the stains of smashed insects. He looked at his cousins and saw that they were all wearing the most pristine of clothing. Jewels flashed from their fingers, ears and necks. They seemed perfect and proud. The cousins resumed their walk toward the castle. The Prince followed meekly behind. 

On route toward the castle, the boys would happen to pass by a gaggle of girls preoccupied with a game they were playing. The Prince watched as the cousins suddenly stiffened their posture. 

“They look strong” thought the Prince. 

His cousins appeared as noble as the marble warriors which decorated the royal grounds. The girls took notice. Many began to giggle and others whispered into nearby ears. The Prince, though occasionally stealing glances at those around him, kept his gaze at the ground. 

The coming week was a big one for The Prince. It was time for him to graduate from “Open School” and join his cousins as well as other older students at “Closed School”. The Prince liked Open School. Every class took place in a massive terrarium which was erupting with trees and an incredible diversity of plants. The walls of enormous, glass panes allowed unhindered sunlight and a full view of the Royal grounds. The schedule at Open School provided ample time for children to roam free. The teachers would encourage students to explore their aptitudes and ensured co operative play. The Prince would spend much of the time building fortresses and bridges with the array of materials that were available. Story time was a special feature of Open School. Every day the teachers would tell tales of gruesome battle, epic adventure and grave misfortune. The Prince was lucky to have imaginative and energetic teachers that embellished every performance with exaggerated movement, gestures and facial expressions. 

The Castle was an immense structure. It took The Prince twenty-five minutes to walk from the East Wing  (where the royal family slept and ate) to the West Wing. Closed School formed the western boundary of the Royal Castle. The Prince did not know what to expect of Closed School. He was an optimistic child and not prone to trepidation. All he knew was Closed School was where the older children went.

When the day arrived for The Prince to attend Closed School, he set upon his new journey with his usual carefree and wandering gait. However, when he came upon Compression Hall, he found his pace began to slow and his feet grew hesitant. Compression Hall was the final leg of his walk to Closed School. On this morning The Hall looked daunting. It was incredibly long. The door at the end of The Hall, the entrance to Closed School, seemed tiny. As The Prince walked toward the door the walls seemed to narrow. Tension began to grow in his belly and head.

The door abruptly swung open and revealed a woman who gazed into The Prince:

“Come in” Said the woman. She pointed a finger to an empty chair and desk.

“We have been expecting you.”

The Prince glanced around the room. It was small. There was only one window near the back corner – right beside the desk he was supposed to occupy. As The Prince took his seat he looked at the other students who had already arrived. They were all watching him. The Prince suddenly became aware of his every movement. When he sat down he noticed that the chair was tiny. So small in fact that the Prince’s hips (which were only as wide as two apples) exceeded the boundaries of the seat. The desk was also very small. As soon as he sat down The Prince looked out the window. Off in the distance he could see the trees near the boundary of the Royal Grounds. The Prince could even see a glimmer of Ditch Creek. 

Suddenly the view vanished. The woman had shut the curtains and was now glaring at The Prince.

“I am Mrs Tamer” said the woman. 

“Welcome to Closed School”.

The next day the Prince found himself walking with great hesitancy to Closed School. His stomach was a knot and he felt a strange pressure in his head. When he entered the classroom he tried to make himself as inconspicuous as possible and scurried to his desk. As soon as he fit himself to the chair he began to fidget.

“Hold still!”  Directed Mrs Tamer.

The Prince restrained himself and began to nervously look around the room. 

“Eyes on your desk!” Commanded Mrs Tamer.

The Prince fixed his eyes on his desk. On his desk lay a piece of paper. Within the borders of the paper was the mornings lesson. The Prince looked at the collection of shapes and symbols and couldn’t imagine that they had meaning or relevance. The Prince felt his mouth go dry and he had a hard time swallowing. He promptly left his chair and headed for the water fountain located just a few steps behind him.

“Hold a minute!” Shouted Mrs Tamer. 

“I did not give you permission to leave your seat”

The Prince froze. 

He couldn’t understand how there could be an obstacle in the way of drinking water. At Open School fresh water and food was everywhere. Even the headwaters and tributaries of Ditch Creek (which were pristine) offered an immediate drink. 

“Please return to your desk” continued the stern voice.

“No one is to leave their seat until 12 o’clock”

Mrs Tamer then directed everyone’s attention to the lesson in front of them. The Prince could not focus on the symbols. His mind kept focusing on the two hours which bound him to his seat. The Prince began to swell with anxiety. 

He started to panic. How could he escape? How could he get free?

The Prince looked up at the walls and spotted a web in a corner. If only he could be as small as a spider…

The Prince’s mind began to wander. As a spider he could crawl along the walls and nobody would notice. He could swing from a thread and  get a drink of water. He would be free to build intricate webs and trap a myriad of little insects….

At noon Mrs Tamer went around the classroom to check on everyone’s progress with their lesson. As usual, scribbled on the pieces paper, the teacher noted a grand variety of attempts to interpret her lesson. When she came to The Prince’s desk she had a sudden feeling of astonishment. Lying on the desk, between The Prince’s forearms, was a perfectly formed square sheet of paper. It was completely blank. 

“You must not have understood the lesson!” Said Mrs Tamer. 

“Very well. After lunch we will go over it again”.

After lunch, Mrs Tamer gave instructions to the class and then turned her attention to The Prince. She pulled a chair up beside him and carefully explained each step required to complete the task. She paused regularly to check if The Prince understood. Each check resulted in The Prince nodding his head in affirmation. 

“Good” said Mrs Tamer with satisfaction.

“I will give you two hours to work on it by yourself and then I will return to see what you have accomplished”.

Precisely two hours later Mrs Tamer returned to The Prince’s desk. Her touch of optimism dropped when, once again, she looked at her student’s paper. Virtually nothing had changed. The page stood void of any effort.

“Not even your name?” Pondered the teacher out loud.

“Very well, we will try again tomorrow.”

A little flustered, Mrs Tamer dismissed the class and The Prince returned to the East Wing of the royal castle. 

The next morning The Prince went back to Closed School with less trepidation. Mrs Tamer welcomed him and began to address the class. The Prince looked at his teacher and was impressed by her sharp attire and stout posture. He felt she could easily be a commander leading soldiers into battle. All the students could be fighting together against  insurmountable odds. The story was full of blood, bodies, gleaming armour and grand weaponry. 

The Prince was busy decapitating the most horrendous of tyrants when he was interrupted:

“Now let us learn to divide.”

Once again Mrs Tamer pulled up a chair next to her student. Once again she received many nods from The Prince. However, when she returned two hours later the previous day’s result would repeat. 

“I know what to do.” said Mrs Tamer out loud. 

“Prince, if you write down one answer I will give you a piece of chocolate.” With those words Mrs Tamer revealed a beautifully wrapped piece of candy. 

The Prince looked at the page of symbols and could only shrug. Not one symbol had any meaning. Not a single explanation from his teacher had helped. 

Mrs Tamer sighed. She would have to have a conversation with The King and Queen.

The King and Queen were shaken by their conversation with Mrs Tamer. They were good parents and did not understand how it could be that their son was so completely incapable of  rudimentary school work. The Prince had never shown any sign of disability or disobedience. The Queen was initially furious. She felt betrayed by her own son. How could this occur after she had committed so much to him? Her fury turned to tears and she withdrew to her bedroom to mourn. The King was silent. The Prince was extremely sad. He did not know what to do. 

Over the next few months The Queen, The King and Mrs Tamer tried all manners of methods in an attempt to get The Prince to do his school work. No twist or test could provide a solution. Only The Prince’s royal lineage kept him in school and graduating from one level to the next.

Years would pass by… 

The Prince was sitting at his desk with his eyes turned to a corner of the classroom. In his mind he was participating in a great jousting match. Riding a magnificent beast, The Prince was duelling against the notoriously evil King of The North Lands. He was just about to smash the king’s face with his lance when the entire scene evaporated. He was no longer staring into a corner. His eye caught a trace of something nearby and it jolted him back to reality. It was long, luxurious, black hair. Hair which flowed gracefully down the backside of an extraordinary figure. Two rows ahead of The Prince, a young woman turned to speak to a class mate beside her. The Prince was mesmerized. 

Princess Kontane was well known throughout the kingdoms. She was as outspoken as she was beautiful. The Princess believed very much in her perspective and was always willing to share it. One day, student artwork was being exhibited on the walls of Compression Hall. The students and Mrs Tamer toured the exhibit and commented on each drawing. Art was one of the few subjects which (occasionally) attracted The Prince’s participation. Many of the weapons he had crafted for his adventures at Ditch Creek had first been meticulously designed on paper. For this project The Prince drew a crossbow. When it came time for the class to discuss The Prince’s artwork a loud sneer cut through the normal babble:

“Weapons and violence are abhorrent!” Announced Princess Kontane.

“Hurting people is reprehensible!” The Princess continued.

The shame hit The Prince right in the stomach. The Prince would never create another weapon. In fact, he even changed his day dreams from participating in battle to participating in non-contact sport. 

The Prince’s preoccupation with Princess Kontane only continued to grow. He noticed she spent a lot of her time with a well presented young man. Prince Narcy seemed to be as self-assured as he was handsome. One day in class, The Prince overheard Prince Narcy speaking to a neighbouring student:

“Extra virgin olive oil is what makes my hair beautiful and manageable. I make sure to apply two table spoons every morning. “

Prince Narcy continued:

“And my skin is so soft and smooth because it retains its moisture. Every night I lather myself in goats milk.”

This struck deep within the mind of The Prince. Perhaps his hair and skin were the key to The Princess’ approval. As soon as he returned to The East Wing he went straight to the bathroom to check his hair and skin in the mirror. In The Prince’s mind his hair was unruly and his face was marred by breakouts. The Prince felt horrendous. The next morning The Prince immediately set off to the market. He procured the most expensive hair and skin lotions he could find and immediately returned home to The Mirror. That night The Prince spent hours upon hours trying to pick and preen himself into perfection. 

The Royal Grounds were commonly used for weekend gatherings. Royalty from all the neighbouring kingdoms would come and attend special events and celebrations. One hot Saturday their was a gathering of students and family members around one of the many pools on the Royal Grounds. Princess Kontane was sitting with a few of her friends. It was obvious the object of their conversation was Prince Narcy who was busy exhibiting himself in the pool. 

The Prince could hear Princess Kontane and her entourage marvel over Prince Narcy. They remarked on his overall slenderness and the tightness of his waist. The Prince blushed intensely as his attention shifted to his own shape. After school, The Prince once again returned to The Mirror. This time he examined every inch of his body. It seemed to him his body was completely bereft of slenderness and his waist was despicably loose. The Prince was desperate. He recalled that Prince Narcy once imposed on everyone that part of his secret to outlandish success was the consumption of vast amounts of spinach and kale. That night The Prince decided to restrict his diet and only eat vegetables. 

The next morning, after two hours of preparation in front of The Mirror, The Prince set off to school. On his walk over to The West Wing of the castle, The Prince decided he wanted to try and speak to Princess Kontane. The thought of speaking to the beautiful Princess made him very nervous.

One weekend morning, while everyone from the neighbouring kingdoms were socializing on The Royal Grounds, The Prince decided to say hello to Princess Kontane. The Princess was with a smaller entourage than usual and was siting quietly and otherwise unoccupied. The Prince approached her carefully and, with a lump in his throat and a twist in his stomach, just managed to squeak out one word:

“Hhhhiii” said The Prince.

The Princess turned to look at The Prince and the world froze. The Princess’s face turned fierce. 

“How dare you!” She shouted.

“You may not address me in such a manner!”

The Princess rose to her feet and The Prince shrank.

“You have broken every rule of proper conduct!” She boomed. 

“First” she continued. 

“You may not address me wearing all-black! Black is far too aggressive. Please wear some pleasant colours.”

“Second” continued the reprimand.

“You must never approach me directly. You must only approach from my left side”.

“Third”

“You must stop precisely ten feet away, bow, and then await my nod of approval”. 

“Should I nod in the affirmative you may then kneel on your right knee and kiss my right hand”.

The Rules continued:

“Any conversation I allow must be pretty. You must not express – in words, tone or gesture – any anger, sadness or anxiety.”

The Prince prayed that she was finished and he could quickly vanish. But The Princess continued:

“Since you are The Prince of this kingdom I will grant you one chance at redemption.”

“At precisely noon of next Wednesday, we will meet in class and you will address me properly”. 

More grateful for the opportunity to leave than a second chance, The Prince fled to the castle.

For the whole week The Prince preoccupied himself with The Rules of Conduct. He was constantly in front of The Mirror. He  was particularly preoccupied with his facial expressions.

“That expression looks nervous” he would say to himself.

“That expression looks bored”

“Oh no! All my expressions seem angry” he lamented.

No matter how much The Prince tried he could not tune his mouth, eyes or eyebrows to his satisfaction. The rest of his body only added to his insecurity. Even his voice defied him. The Prince practised and practised and the day of redemption drew nearer.

Finally, the day arrived when The Prince was to reattempt addressing Princess Kontane. The Rules of Conduct swirled through his head as he washed and dressed. As the Prince ate his breakfast of vegetables he suddenly paused. His usual spinach and kale tasted unusual in a way which made him worried. The Prince asked the royal chef:

“What new ingredient did you add to the dressing” he asked.

“A dash of Yamamoto paste” replied the chef. 

With those words The Prince felt as though he dropped a foot through the floor. 

“Yamamoto paste!” The Prince cried in his mind. 

“Yamamoto paste contained fish sauce!” The crying continued.

The Prince ran upstairs to The Mirror. He felt sure he had instantly become bloated. The Mirror was ruthless. All traces of slenderness and a tight waist had vanished. As The Prince checked his figure, his attention was suddenly drawn to his face. There was a pimple on his nose! Despair flushed the blood from every vein. The Prince was in ruins. Surely he was worthless. Princess Kontane would never associate with someone so despicable. Even though he felt all was lost he dared not offend her by avoiding their meeting.

With heart full of fear and dread, The Prince began his walk to Closed School. The Rules of Conduct repeated relentlessly through his head.

• Approach from the left
• Ten feet and bow
• Get down on right knee
• Kiss right hand
• No anger, sadness or anxiety

The usual walk across the castle  was foreign. Everything was amplified. The statues and paintings were more imposing than ever. When The Prince arrived at Compression Hall, he had a sudden realization. His soul shrieked:

HE WAS WEARING BLACK!

He could not turn back. His time was up. The Princess was waiting. The Prince began his walk down Compression Hall. The Hall seemed even more narrow than usual. Once the Prince reached the halfway point the journey abruptly stopped being level – the hall was pointing straight down! The Prince started to tumble toward Closed School. He opened the door and dashed to his desk hoping to hold on and restore his equilibrium. As he clutched his desk The Prince saw the look on The Princess’s face. The room began to spin. The Princess was deeply offended.