Regarding how master Suku received her name, this much may
be told:
Many years ago, when Suku was still a novice at the Temple,
she had been tasked with reviewing the code of a monk in her
clan. Wishing to impress the masters in the audience, the
novice was merciless in her criticisms of the monk. Chief
among her complaints was the inelegance of his solution and
its overly complex structure.
After the meeting had concluded, master Banzen—who was two
decades her senior—followed her outside the meeting hall and
down the stone steps. At the bottom he said, “Little nun! Do
you know the way to the Abbey of Iron Bones?”
Suku pointed. “Straight across the courtyard.”
Banzen said, “Walk it, then.”
No sooner had Suku gone three paces when the master struck
her left side with a large rice paddle, thwock! sending her
reeling into a plum tree. Though surprised, the novice knew
better than to question or complain. Instead she dusted
herself off and continued toward the abbey, only to find two
gardeners blocking her path. She sidestepped them and
thwock! the paddle came down upon her head. Now dizzy, she
splashed through a koi pond, stumbled into a shrine, tripped
over a tree root, and thwock! now her right side met master
Banzen’s paddle and she found herself sprawled among the
peonies.
Eventually the bruised and winded nun arrived at the steps
of the Abbey of Iron Bones, with Banzen right on her heels.
“Straight across the courtyard,” echoed Banzen. “Design.”
The master then took Suku gently by the shoulders and turned
her around to face the twisted path her steps had traced in
the dust. “Implementation,” said Banzen.
As the novice considered this, Banzen handed her the paddle
and said, “The World.”
