Читать книгу A Gaijin's Guide to Japan: An alternative look at Japanese life, history and culture - Ben Stevens - Страница 10

One of Japan’s best-loved folk heroes, Benkei was either the supernatural offspring of a temple god or the son of a blacksmith’s daughter, depending on which story you believe.

In any case, he came kicking and screaming into this world with hair and teeth already in place. A natural troublemaker, he soon earned the nickname oniwaka or ‘young devil child’, which to be honest probably just made him act up even more. In spite of this misbehaviour, he was trained as a monk, and by the age of seventeen stood a two-metre tall giant with the strength of a small bull.

‘I’ve had enough of living in stupid Buddhist monasteries,’ he said at this point, in a teenager’s surly grunt. ‘I’m going to go and hang out with the yamabushi [mountain priests who were quite handy at fighting] who sound way cooler.’

Suitably trained in martial arts and warfare—and particularly expert in his use of the sword—Benkei then decided to place himself by Gojo Bridge in Kyoto, where he set himself the target of beating 1 000 thousand men using his sword.

Rather unsurprisingly, 999 men were beaten without any problem whatsoever. It was that very last man who proved a bit of a tricky bugger. Along he sauntered, playing a jaunty tune on his flute, a little sword flapping at his side.

‘Hah! I’ll easily best this pipsqueak,’ gloated Benkei.

‘Hey!’ he called as the small, slightly built man drew closer. ‘If you want to cross this bridge with all your limbs intact, just you hand over that sword! Otherwise it will be the worst for you, see?’

‘You big oaf,’ laughed the slightly built man. ‘My name is Minamoto no Yoshitsune, son of the infamous warlord Minamoto no Yoshitomo. If you don’t get out of my way right this second, I’ll thrash you like the insolent dog you are.’

‘Oh, I just love it when I get a wise guy,’ declared Benkei, his eyes betraying a feral light as he rushed towards his intended victim.

Stepping nimbly out of the way, Yoshitsune then used his flute to hit the giant sharply around the head. Benkei let out a roar and flashed his great sword all around him—but each time, Yoshitsune was simply not there. This battle required such little effort on Yoshitsune’s behalf that he was frequently able to play a little tune on his flute (he was undoubtedly a bit of a smart-arse, but then having a famous warlord dad can do that to you).

Finally, exhausted with cutting through nothing but thin air—and really wishing that Yoshitsune would stop playing that same bloody tune—Benkei slumped to the ground and conceded defeat.

‘Okay, you win,’ he told Yoshitsune. ‘Here—I demanded your sword, so it’s only right that you should now have mine.’

But Yoshitsune only laughed, probably played his flute a bit more, and then sat down beside the fallen giant. He explained that he’d been trained in martial arts and swordsmanship by the tengu (mythological creatures), which meant that he only ever needed to draw his sword in times of extreme peril.

‘No offence, Benkei,’ he said, patting the much larger man on one of his ox-like shoulders, ‘but you’re all mouth and no trousers.’

At which Benkei apparently begged to become Yoshitsune’s loyal follower, for however long they both should live.

So off they went and had lots of adventures, until it all turned a bit nasty and Yoshitsune found himself being betrayed by his powerful brother. Holed up in Takadachi Castle, an entire army just about to force their way inside, Yoshitsune killed first his family and then himself, to prevent them from falling into enemy hands. Benkei, loyal to the last, remained outside the room where his fallen master lay, defending it until his great body was finally brought down by over one hundred arrows.

A rather dubious postscript is occasionally added to this story, which entails four or five people walking along a remote track a few days later, their features concealed under rough brown cloaks.

‘Phew,’ says one of the group, casting off his cloak to reveal a small sword and a flute by his waist. ‘I think we’re far enough away from the castle now, boys and girls.’

‘What a good job you found some people who looked uncommonly like you, me and your family, master!’ declares another, far larger man.

‘Even more fortunate that they didn’t mine dying for us.’

‘Rather!’ say Yoshitsune’s family (the members of which remain somewhat anonymous), as they all head towards the sanctuary of a forest above which hangs the slowly setting sun.