From: flynn@icd.teradyne.com (Kevin L. Flynn)
Subject: Daybreak
Date: Thu, 26 Aug 1993 01:29:00 GMT

Birdsong trilled quietly in the not-quite-light sky; a soft breath of wind
rustled the leaves of the tree outside the window.  A moment more, and the
sun slid into the day, casually shaking the night away.

Ryousho stirred, rising from a deep dreamless sleep into wakefulness in
the space of an eyeblink.  He got up, stretched, and looked out the window
at the bird's nest, giving the bright-eyed singer a quick bow and a silent
hello in greeting.  The bird chirped merrily back before flying off in
search of breakfast.  Ryousho grinned, and turned to the closet.

He dressed quickly: loose pants, cotton shirt, bare feet.  Comfortable
clothes, but clearly made for working rather than image.  Another few
moments to straighten the sheets on his futon and make sure the room in
general was shipshape, and Ryousho headed downstairs in search of his
grandfather.

The older man was outside on the broad wooden deck, as Ryousho had
expected.  He was sitting peacefully in seiza -- on his knees, back
straight, feet tucked underneath him, hands resting in his lap.  Other
than breathing, he made no motions.

Ryousho smiled again and joined him, silently arranging himself in
identical posture, gazing out across the rock garden his grandfather was
facing.  Much of the garden was gravel, carefully raked into curves that
gave the impression of water; larger rocks stood out with a pleasant sort
of not-quite-randomness.  Plants grew from the stones bordering the
garden, and the dawn light splashing across the garden made it easy for
Ryousho to lose himself in it, descending into zazen in preparation for
the day.

When the time was right, the two men emerged.

"Ohaiyo, Ryousho," said the older man as he rose to his feet.  His voice
was rough, worn, and pleasant; he wore a kimono and hakama that could have
been made in the sixteenth century.  At first blush he looked something
like a man playing at being a samurai.

Ryousho smiled, bowing after he - with slightly less grace than his
grandfather - had regained a standing position.  "Ohaiyo, ojiisan."  His
grandfather smiled, made a slight bow in return, and then led the way away
from the garden.

They slipped their feet into waiting shoes before stepping onto the narrow
path that ran around the house, from the rock garden to the back of the
dojo.  Together they slid back the celpaper panels, rattling loudly in the
quiet of morning.  Motes of dust danced in the sunlight suddenly gracing
the place.  They left the shoes on the walk, again, and stepped inside.

A bow to the dojo; a bow to each other.  Then stretching, followed by
warmup exercises, followed by a set of increasingly complex forms that the
two men flowed through more-or-less in sync.  Ryousho's grandfather smiled
as they finished; then he began the first of the drills that seemed
correct for the moment.  The sun had shifted noticably across the sky by
the time they returned to the forms they had opened with, this time
working from the complex to the simple.

Ryousho wiped sweat from his forehead when they stopped the second time;
his grandfather smiled.  "You're doing much better," he said, and Ryousho
returned the smile before jogging across the hall's modest length to fetch
two long, straight blades.

Another bow to each other; another set of drills and forms, more smiles
and quiet advice from the grandfather.  The swords flashed silver in the
bright morning sun as they began the last form set, and the echoes of
their kiai rang in the air, for a time.  The forms were familiar, calming;
Ryousho dropped into them, letting his mind clear to _do_ instead of
_think_.

A timeless span later the blade whispered into its scabbard; Ryousho
blinked, realized his grandfather had spoken.  "Excuse me?"

Soft laughter.  "Well done," his grandfather repeated with a smile.
Ryousho blinked, then smiled back.

They bowed to each other once more, for the close of the practice, then
drew the blades again to oil them before putting them away.  Ryousho
returned them to their places - behind locked doors - when they finished.
They cleaned the dojo in preparation for the students who would use it
later in the day, and bowed again before stepping back through its doors.

It was time for breakfast.

===========================================================================

Been so long I've all but forgotten what to put down here... anyway...

This is basically background; it will be used in an interaction with
Liralen Li, but if anyone else is interested in interacting with Ryousho
and his grandfather, by all means write.  Even if you're not interested in
interacting, feedback on what you've read is _very_ welcome...

--
Kevin Flynn                                          flynn@icd.teradyne.com