By Chikara’ san
Written in summer of 2004
Published in November of 2004
Email for Chikara San
My name is Chikara’san; I will share with you now how I became a Samurai Warrior and found my way here
to this place.
In my childhood my father was known as a Daimyo, or Lord of the land. Many Samurai pledged their
loyalty to him and protection of his lands in exchange for lands of their own. We belonged to the Clan of
Taira, during a period of great battles between the 3 major clans of Japan and their conquests into other
lands.
It was during this period that the men of our lands were often away fighting. Women were expected to
train in the use of the naginata for protecting their homes from attack and a few became warriors of their
own right. The Naginata is a long wooden staff like weapon with a blade on the end, useful for keeping
the enemy at a distance while fighting and is a very beautiful art when mastered.
My mother was killed protecting me at a very young age during such an attack and so it was my father
refused to take another wife for a period of twenty years out of mourning. I was taken to Mariko, a great
Samurai woman within the clan who would be my Sensei or teacher as you may call her in your culture.
There I was to learn the Naginata, as well as the Samurai way, for my father would have me honor our family
in battle and not fall as my mother did to an enemy blade.
And so it was until my 18th year of life I studied with Mariko, a young Samurai Warrior recently widowed,
learning the way of the Bushido, or warrior. She became a very important part of my life, and I was to be
her only student. To become Samurai meant learning other things as well. I was educated in religion,
history, and philosophy, and mastered the difficult art of writing in my native language. Daily I practiced
with the various weapons of the Samurai, learning to use my bow on horseback as well as on foot. I
mastered the use of the Katana quickly, blushing with the praise Mariko bestowed on me.
During that year things changed between teacher and student. I was no longer the 8 year old who came to
her unsure and clumsy in movement. I began to notice an odd tingling sensation when our bodies touched
as we practiced the martial fighting methods. During the tea ceremony my hand grew unsteady and when
Mariko touched it gently to guide me in the proper movements, my skin burned. I found her eyes watching
me intently and lowered my gaze, unsure what she read there.
My father was once again away fighting with the clans and so when Mariko asked me to stay I offered no
excuses. Her teachings that night were far more powerful then the years of lessons I conquered in
becoming a warrior.
From the first kiss I knew that this woman held my heart in ways far beyond that of a teacher. We became
more than teacher and student that night, as she led me into womanhood with her caresses. Mariko was still
Samurai, and between two warriors all was not always gentle. Our lovemaking was often rough and
demanding as I burned with the fires of youth and Mariko mastered the flames of experience.
And so my studies continued, as did our affair. My father would have disowned me and had me shunned
from the clan, if not killed outright for this forbidden relationship. He was stern and filled with his honor
but his favor for me was high and so it was that he offered me several choices in marriage rather then
arrange one for me.
This occurred nearly 2 years after I discovered my love for Mariko. Many long afternoons I spent in her
arms, despairing over the choice and duty to marry as my father ordered. Mariko also despaired but she
was bound by honor and reminded me that the code must be obeyed. She was married once as well, but her
husband died during their first year and because of her status of Samurai she was not forced to take
another husband.
That evening as my father rode to the east, intent on seeking revenge against a neighboring clan for the
slaughter of a village of his peoples; we enjoyed one last night together before I became a married woman.
She had taken care to teach me ways of appearing to have an untouched woman’s body so my husband
would not be dishonored our first night together. Tonight however, she took my body as hers and our
passions soared together as two birds high in the sky against a turbulent wind.
So it was that we were locked together, our cries of passion nearly drowning out the sudden insistent
ringing of the Clans warning bell. Scrambling from the bed, Mariko donned her clothing and rushed
outside, weapons in hand. I followed quickly, hastily fastening my swords in place.
There was chaos throughout the homes as horses thundered through the narrow paths and children
screamed in fright. I drew up in surprise when one of the Samurai drew his horse up in front of us both,
bowing quickly in respect.
“Mariko’san, the attack is coming here, we must prepare for a stand. You must both come to the fields for
battle.”
I felt a thrill go through me; I had not seen action in battle yet and felt the stirrings of energy from deep
within. Mariko however was calm as she nodded and requested more from the warrior before them.
“Jummo’san, what has happened? How has the attack come here to us?”
Jummo was no older then myself and his discomfort was evident as he answered. “The Daimyo is dead.
The clans were prepared for our attack and ambushed us but their own Daimyo was not present. We
turned back in fear that the village was being attacked by them and were pursued. You must come and
prepare to meet them.”
I stood in shock as his words washed over me. My father was dead. He was a great Samurai and died
honorably, for this I offered thanks. Numbly I returned the brief apology offered by Jummo as Mariko
urged me to focus and retrieve our horses.
That night for the first time after I ritually dressed her in her armor, she did the same for me. Tonight we
would fight together in honor and I would become Samurai. My mind was disciplined from years of practice
and so I was able to focus on the battle ahead instead of the loss of my father.
As we rode towards the fields to prepare for a stand, Mariko touched my hand once, gently.
“Chikara’san, I regret the loss of your father tonight. I rejoice in the fact you are now free. You are my
student no more, but my heart you will hold forever.”
I was unable to answer her but she squeezed my hand in understanding. Never before had she addressed
me with the honorable title of San. My spirit soared with her words, and I swelled with the pride of being a
warrior, determined to honor her with many deaths tonight.
I could hear the thunder of their horses approaching as I prepared my first arrow. Mariko rode ahead to
the front lines as was her right, and so when the first horse appeared over the hill I loosed an arrow and
struck him to the ground and it began.
TBC
Chikara’san
Making of a Samurai Chapter 2
The battle was fierce and many warriors fell that day. I lost count of my kills as I fell easily into the rhythm
of loosing arrow after arrow into the oncoming riders. When they grew too close for my bow, I drew my
Katana and charged on horseback, screaming my family’s honorable name as I met one after another and
watched them fall to my blade.
Several times I caught a glimpse of Mariko as she too fought bravely. The enemy was diminishing now;
many of them ran like cowards to escape the fury of our blades. With the pounding of the battle cries
ringing in my head, I fought my way to her side and met her feral grin with one of my own as we advanced on
the last few who would stand against us.
My mind was focused on every sound, every breath of the enemy and those beside me. As Mariko trained
me, I heard the ringing of swords just before they met, the whoosh of air as a blow narrowly missed me, the
sounds of my enemy just before I killed him. It was using this gift that I escaped serious injury, and it was
using this curse that I heard the sounds of pain from Mariko before she was struck down.
My screams took a new fury now as I doubled my efforts to dispatch those around us, standing
protectively over her fallen body. When I could no longer find an enemy to meet my sword I fell to my knees
beside her.
Her wounds were very bad, her bleeding could not be controlled and I knew then I would lose her. Her
face was wet with tears; I realized later they were my own. Never had she seemed so frail to me as when I
held her there on that field stained with blood, waiting with her for death to come.
“Chikara’Chan, you cannot go with me on this journey. You must let me go and rejoice that I died
honorably in battle in the Samurai way.”
Her voice was growing weaker already and I blindly shoved away her words. “No! No, it is my right to
choose death with you.” Later I would wonder how she knew my mind so easily to guess that I considered
performing the rite of Seppuku, or ritual suicide to avoid being separated from her.
“No, you will listen to me now my student, my lover. You have gained your freedom from obeying your
father, but if you remain here that freedom will not last long. Your spirit as a warrior is strong, you ARE
Samurai and you need a leader worthy of your service.” She held my attention now as I smoothed the
stray hairs from her face while she paused to cough up the blood that trickled from her mouth slowly.
“You remember the tales I told you of the great female Samurai warrior, Tomoe Gozen? She lives on
through the ages as a warrior and leader for our people, for our women. You must find the one that holds
her spirit now, the leader of warriors. With her you will find a place of freedom to be the strong woman you
are.”
Her eyes were growing distant as I held her, and in desperation, I prayed to the ancestors that she be
allowed to stay. I knew that my request would be denied as she placed a soft hand against my blood
stained cheek.
“Give me your vow Chikara’Chan, that you will leave this place and seek this warrior of the people
wherever she is to be found, that you will seek a place of happiness and freedom worthy of your honor and
service.”
As the last breath flowed from her sweet lips, I bent to kiss her and whispered my vow to her. I would seek
this one no matter how far or long the journey would take me, in honor of my love and my teacher. We sat
there for some time, I held her in my arms as the spirit left her body before bearing her back to her home.
After the customary 8 days of mourning, I saw Mariko buried with all the rites deserving of a Samurai of
great honor and standing. My father’s funeral was also tended to, as befitting a great Daimyo of the
land.
Because there were no male relatives left alive, I could sense the families of our clan eyeing me differently.
One who could marry me would become the new Daimyo and make their own family very powerful. The
elders of the clan held a gathering to discuss who would be most befitting as the new Daimyo and my
husband. No one asked my opinion on the matter.
The village was dark and quiet as I left, taking only my armor and a few sacred things from my home as I rode
away. By morning they would find me gone, I doubted they would pursue me; my disappearance would
leave the position and lands of my father open to be taken.
This was the beginning of the journey that would carry me through numerous lands and across the seas.
Always I listened and searched for myths, stories, and tales of the people’s warrior. It was after many
years and many adventures that I will not share now, that I first heard of the Fianna, one who fit every
description of the spirit Mariko sent me searching for. This is how I came to search for her, finding myself
here among the trees in a place of peace, among women of honor like myself. This is how I came to offer my
service to a new Daimyo, how I became a Samurai who offers her service and life to Morgan and her tribe.
Chikara’san
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