Skeptics of rituals as they are nowadays, it is hard for humans to stay untouched and calm at a watchful snow monkey. Decennia of research have tell them that these particular monkeys do not fight for blood unless forced to, and yet a guardian snow monkey looking into the eyes of the human that randomly is about to walk in the guardian’s territory, is a sight capable of imposing the fear of any god on any atheist human. Even if they know that it is all but a ritual.
We also knew that Father Snow Monkey talking about saya no uchi talked about a ritual. It is unthinkable that his sword would actually spill anybody’s blood. And yet it is very hard to stay imperturbable when seeing Father Snow Monkey starting a kata. We know we won’t be cut, and yet nobody is unmoved in front.
Perhaps that is what humans are loosing when letting go their old rituals. It is not only the fight that they will not need to give, but it is the time expend learning a form of communication that has been polished by millennia, and it is still superior to what we can say with a few words. Communication that makes them know themselves.
The tsuka moved slightly, tsuka-gashira pointed to the opponent. The left hand of Father Snow Monkey softly, almost as if not wanting, pressed the tsuba. The blade was free. The right hand curled on the leather. Anybody could see the steel coming out the saya, and yet that wasn’t all. Something else was there too. Even if mainly towards the one facing him, it reached us too. The opponent, almost imperceptibly, trembled. And that was all it was. The blade of Father Monkey went back to its saya. They greeted each other and we breathed again.
