20

DRUNKEN FIST

Without taking his eye off the bandits, Jack smiled reassuringly at Hana. ‘Don’t worry. We’ve got Ronin on our side.’

Hana stared at Jack as if he was crazy. ‘But he’s drunk!’

‘Exactly,’ replied Jack, his staff poised for the moment Ronin made his move.

‘If you wish to pass, you must pay a toll,’ declared the bandit leader.

Ronin hiccupped. ‘How mushh?’

‘Everything you’ve got.’

‘Oh, good!’ replied Ronin cheerfully. ‘We’ve got nothing … that means we can pass.’

Waving Jack and Hana on, Ronin started walking. But the leader put a hand to Ronin’s chest.

‘I don’t think so, samurai. We’ll have that bottle for starters.’

‘Thisss?’ slurred Ronin, giving the bottle a shake. ‘But it’s empty.’

To prove his point, he drained the last of its contents into his mouth.

‘I can see you’ve got another bottle! Hand it over –’

At that moment, Ronin pretended to choke and spat the rice wine into the bandit’s face. The man shrieked as the alcohol burnt his eyes. Ronin drunkenly lurched forward, headbutting him in the nose and breaking it. The leader staggered away, blood gushing down his face.

‘Get them!’ he yelled.

Immediately, the squat bandit attacked Ronin with his club. Swaying to one side, Ronin’s arms whirled as if trying to catch his balance. He easily evaded the vicious swipe and in the process smashed the ceramic bottle over the bandit’s head. The man was unconscious before he even hit the ground.

Jack leapt into action. Spinning his bō, he cracked the nearest bandit across the knuckles. The man grunted with pain and was forced to let go of his weapon. The axe cut the tip off his little toe as it dropped on to his foot. Hopping in agony, the bandit made an easy target as Jack whipped his staff round, caught the man’s legs and flipped him over. A quick jab to the gut ensured he wouldn’t be getting up any time soon.

Jack heard a scream from behind and saw Hana being snatched by the gap-toothed bandit.

‘Duck!’ he shouted, thrusting the end of the staff at Hana’s head.

Hana obeyed and the bō struck her assailant in the chest. Wheezing from the blow, the bandit released her and threw his knife at Jack in retaliation. The blade headed straight for Jack’s throat. Only split-second timing and his samurai training saved him. He instinctively deflected the knife with the bō’s shaft.

Furious, the bandit charged at Jack, who flicked the staff’s tip up beneath the man’s jaw. There was a nasty crunch and several more teeth flew out. Then Jack brought his staff whipping round and sent the toothless bandit hurtling into a tree, knocking him senseless.

He now turned to face the fourth robber armed with a staff.

Meanwhile, Ronin was battling with both the leader and the spear-wielding bandit. Hana watched open-mouthed as Ronin toppled, tumbled and turned between his assailants. But at no point could either of them land a strike on the drunken samurai.

The bandit with the spear tried to drive his weapon into the rolling Ronin, and promptly got the tip wedged into the earth. Springing to his feet, Ronin stomped on the shaft, snapping it in two. A drunken fist to the throat brought the fight to a swift end.

Disorientated from all his multiple twists and turns, Ronin’s legs went from beneath him and he collapsed to the ground.

‘Now I’ve got you!’ snarled the furious leader, raising his club to smash the samurai to pieces.

Suddenly Ronin rebounded to his feet, threw out a leg and struck him in the face a second time. The bandit was stopped mid-swing and toppled like a felled tree.

‘Never ever take my saké!’ said Ronin. He peered down at the bandit’s battered features. ‘And I really didn’t think you could get any uglier!’

The vanquished leader could only manage a feeble groan in response.

Ronin glanced over to where Jack was still locked in combat with the final bandit.

‘Come on! We haven’t got all night,’ he complained impatiently.

He leant against a tree to watch the fight, but didn’t have long to wait before Jack disarmed his opponent. One glance at his fallen comrades was enough to convince the bandit to run while he still had the chance.

‘Leave them to lick their wounds,’ said Ronin, tottering off down the road.

Jack and Hana followed close behind, Hana speechless for the first time since they’d started walking that day.

Eventually they stopped by a river and found a suitable and safe spot upstream to camp for the night. Jack built a fire and they gathered by its warmth, while tucking into chestnut-flavoured manjū and sharing a straw container of rice.

‘You were amazing!’ said Hana, admiring Ronin with spellbound eyes.

‘What?’ he grunted, through a mouthful of manjū.

Hana rolled around on the ground, imitating his drunken fighting. She tried to spring to her feet, but only got halfway before landing heavily on her rear. Jack burst out laughing.

Ronin tutted in irritation. ‘That’s not how you do it! Drunken Fist is a highly skilful martial art.’

‘Oh, it can’t be that hard. You just need to get drunk,’ she said, picking up Ronin’s last bottle of saké.

‘Give that here!’ he growled, snatching the rice wine from her grasp. ‘You don’t need saké for Drunken Fist. You need training.’

‘Why don’t you teach us then?’ suggested Hana.

‘I’m no sensei.’

‘Well, I’m no student,’ retorted Hana. ‘Never been taught in my life. That will make you the best teacher I’ve ever had.’

Ronin didn’t answer, just took another slug of rice wine.

‘So where did you learn Drunken Fist?’ asked Jack, having suspected Ronin’s moves were part of a formal fighting style.

‘From a Shaolin priest, a warrior monk on a pilgrimage from China. His name was Han Zhongli.’ Ronin smiled at the memory. ‘I watched him defeat twenty men single-handedly. After that, I asked to become his student.’ He stared into the fire, lost in his reverie.

‘And?’ prompted Hana.

Ronin got to his feet, bottle in hand.

‘Drunken Fist relies on deception,’ he explained, staggering slightly. ‘You mimic a drunkard with his cups.’ He held one hand out as if grasping a cup. ‘You move around, soft but strong.’

Ronin swayed, rocking and rolling on the balls of his feet.

‘When I reach for another drink, it’s actually a strike.’ He flung out his hand, stopping just short of Hana’s nose. ‘Or a grab technique.’ He clamped down upon Hana’s shoulder and she squealed as his fingers bit in. ‘You aim for pressure points, or else take the opponent’s balance.’

Despite his initial reluctance, Ronin was clearly warming to his role as sensei. Hana watched intently, while Jack made mental notes of everything Ronin was imparting.

‘The principle tactic is to feign defence while trying to attack. To appear to aim in one direction, while moving in another.’

Staggering to his right, Ronin executed a devastating side-kick with his opposite leg.

‘I use all these movements to confuse my opponent, so I always look off-balance.’ Ronin tottered on one foot. ‘But I always stay in control, maintaining my centre of balance –’

Suddenly Ronin flailed his arms and fell to the ground, bringing the lesson to an abrupt end. The ungainly finish caused Hana to burst into a fit of giggles. Jack knew Ronin wouldn’t take kindly to this and, glaring at Hana, hurried over to help the drunken samurai to his feet.

‘You thought I fell,’ challenged Ronin as Jack came near.

In the blink of an eye, Ronin twisted on his back, spiralling upwards. His foot would have caught Jack in the jaw, if Jack hadn’t dodged the surprise attack. But a second later, Jack was struck in the chest with a palm strike and he was sent flying. He landed on top of Hana, both of them stunned by the unexpected assault.

‘That is Drunken Fist,’ proclaimed Ronin proudly. ‘Just when your opponent thinks you’re most vulnerable … you strike!’