The enemy camp, assembling in Rakuunkan, have of late contrived some new sort of dumdum projectile. Whenever they have a ten-minute break, or after the day's lessons are done, they let loose with multiple shots in sequence, targeting the vacant lot on the north side. They refer to their projectile as a ball, and they launch it at will with the swing of a giant pestle, propelling it toward its intended target. Dumum projectile or whatever, they launch it from the Rakuunkan athletic grounds, so the master, holed up in his study, is well out of harm's way. The enemy camp knows full well that their target is out of range, but therein lies their strategy. It's said that peripheral shelling was highly effective in the battle for Ryojun. In like manner this ball, tumbling from the sky and rolling to a stop in the vacant lot, is not without due impact. Each time the ball flies, its flight is accompanied by a chorus of loud and raucous cries from the full array of assembled forces. The master winces, and the veins that run through his arms and legs reflexively tighten. The blood in those veins, in agonized confusion, flows in reverse and races to his head. The enemy strategy is well conceived and highly effective.
In ancient Greece, they say, lived a writer named Aeschylus. He had the characteristic head of a scholar or writer. By characteristic head of a scholar or writer, I mean he was bald. The reason for this baldness is without doubt poor diet, too poor to support hair growth. Scholars and writers spend their days lost in thought, so most live meager lives. Their heads, therefore, for lack of nourishment, go bald. At any rate, Aeschylus was a writer, so as matter of course he lost his hair. His head was shiny like a kumquat. One day, then, the good man took that head -- heads aren't like clothes, of course, with one for outings and one for everyday use -- taking that head and tossing it to and fro, with the sun beating off it, he made his way through the streets. It was this that invited his mishap. A bald head, exposed to sunlight, reflects intensely and is visible over quite some distance. Tall trees catch the winds, and a shining head is bound to catch something too. As it happened, a lone eagle was floating in the sky over Aeschylus's head. On closer look, it had in its talons a live turtle, seized from somewhere or other. Turtles and snapping turtles are a delicacy, without doubt, but from times of old, and back in ancient Greece too, they've sported a hard shell. However much of a delicacy may await inside, getting past the hard shell is the first order of business.