Jack gave a hollow laugh. ‘Since meeting you, Soke, I’ve been hung from a tree, tricked into entering a ninja village, knocked unconscious and now kidnapped. My opinion of ninja has not changed.’
‘That is one truth, but I see another,’ said Soke. ‘Good fortune caught you in that tree. Our meeting meant I could guide you to safety. At Shonin’s house, I rescued you from yourself, avoiding unnecessary bloodshed. Finally, Miyuki prevented you being captured by the samurai patrols.’
Jack found Soke’s words unexpectedly persuasive, but ninja were known for their ability to deceive. ‘Why should I believe you? Unlike samurai, ninja have no code of conduct.’
‘True, we do not follow the seven virtues of bushido. Instead we cultivate the spirit of ninniku. A compassionate heart, one that doesn’t harbour grudges and always seeks peace and harmony. The essence of a ninja is a pure heart.’
‘Yet you still assassinate people.’
‘Occasionally the ninja are employed for such work by the samurai and their daimyo. But the single life of a leader can sometimes save thousands of soldiers’ lives on the battlefield. Is that not better?’
‘That depends upon who you kill.’
‘A fair point,’ agreed Soke, putting down his tea. ‘And that is why assassination is not our preferred means. Our true skills lie in espionage and strategy. The information we gather allows an enemy to be defeated, not by direct combat, but by using such intelligence to undermine and weaken our enemy’s position. So you see, while the samurai seek open warfare, we, the ninja, seek to avoid conflict through our actions. We only engage in combat as a last resort.’
‘But you’re mercenaries without honour,’ argued Jack.
‘That is what the samurai would have you believe. In truth, we are farmers, merely trying to survive and preserve our way of life. The Iga clans have been persecuted by the samurai for generations. Thirty years ago, that warlord Oda Nobunaga almost wiped us out. Even though our village survived, it’s still a target for daimyo Akechi. Did you know that Hanzo’s parents were murdered by samurai?’
Jack sadly shook his head.
‘The ninja may be as opposite to the samurai as the moon is to the sun,’ continued Soke, ‘but we’re not the devils you think we are. And samurai are not the saints you imagine.’
‘That may be your truth,’ accepted Jack, ‘but it isn’t mine.’
‘I realize it’ll take time to convince you. But tell me, Jack, who is hunting you now … and who is protecting you?’
They both knew the answer.
‘From the beginning, I said it’s a matter of trust,’ Soke continued. ‘I will trust you now by returning your swords. I know how important they are to a samurai.’
Soke retrieved the katana and wakizashi from his room and, bowing, placed them before Jack.
‘I’m free to go?’ queried Jack in surprise.
‘By all means, leave,’ Soke said, indicating Jack’s pack, untouched, by the door. ‘But you’re clearly of great interest to the Shogun. I’d be surprised if you survive more than a day.’
Jack picked up his swords. ‘It’s a risk I’m willing to take.’
‘You do have another choice,’ said Soke as Jack headed to the door.
‘And what is that?’ Jack asked cautiously.
‘Stay here until the samurai move their search elsewhere. You still have a long journey ahead and if you were to learn a few ninja skills, you might just reach your destination alive.’
‘Me? Train as a ninja!’
Soke smiled. ‘Only by becoming one will you truly comprehend the Way of the Ninja.’
13
TREE FIGHT
Jack walked out.
Shouldering his bag, he strode off towards the one and only road in the village. The old man was out of his mind. How could Soke suggest that he become a ninja? It’d be going against his father’s memory to even contemplate such an idea. The shinobi were dishonourable assassins. Murderers.
Or were they?
Soke had put a seed of doubt in his mind. A single tree doesn’t make a forest.
As he passed through the village, Jack was struck by how normal everything appeared. People bowed at his approach. Farmers tended their fields. Children played in the square. They looked like ordinary families, not killers.
A young girl ran up to him. ‘Where are you going, tengu?’ she asked.
Jack recognized her as the little girl who’d taken part in sword training the day before. ‘Home.’
‘Don’t you like it here?’
‘It’s very peaceful,’ Jack admitted, ‘but I have to return to my sister.’
‘What’s her name?’
‘Jess. She’s only ten.’
‘Like me!’ the girl squealed. ‘I’m supposed to give you this, by the way.’
She handed Jack a small orange fruit.
‘What is it?’
‘A mikan. Try it.’
Jack went to take a bite, before realizing it might be a trick.
‘It’s very tasty!’ she insisted, producing one of her own. ‘But Soke said you need to peel back the skin to discover the real fruit.’
The girl skipped off towards the square, happily devouring hers.
Jack examined his mikan. What was Soke up to now? The gift looked innocent enough and didn’t appear to have been tampered with. Carefully removing the skin, he found a fleshy, segmented fruit inside. He tentatively popped a slice into his mouth. Its intense sweetness brought a smile to his face and Jack thought he understood Soke’s message. Having had to figure out so many of Sensei Yamada’s koans and riddles while at the Niten Ichi Ryū, Jack was used to such obtuse teachings. He presumed the mikan was meant to represent his view of the ninja, the skin being his false impression and the edible fruit inside the truth.
Then again it could be just a piece of fruit.
But Soke had got him thinking. Maybe he was being too rash in his judgement. Perhaps the ninja were trying to help him, after all. The question was, why? They might share a common enemy, but there had to be another reason. And he would never know unless he stayed.
Then there were the problems of negotiating the mountains, avoiding the samurai patrols and getting past every checkpoint thereafter along the road to Nagasaki. The idea of acquiring some ninja skills was appealing. Miyuki had moved through the forest as silent as a shadow. Dragon Eye had stolen in and out of guarded castles with the ease of a ghost. The ninja were masters of the Art of Stealth. With those same skills, Jack could elude the samurai rather than have to fight them.
But it seemed disloyal to his guardian Masamoto to contemplate learning such dark arts. The swordsman had brought him up to be a true and noble samurai. The man had fought against ninja all his life. But then hadn’t Akiko trained as a ninja – under the explicit instruction of Masamoto himself?
In order to know your enemy, you must become your enemy.
Perhaps this is what he should do. Jack still found it hard to justify training with the ninja. Then the Lord’s Prayer came into his head … Forgive us our sins, as we forgive those who sin against us. As a Christian, he’d always been taught to forgive. But how could he forgive those responsible for his father’s death?
A realization hit him. Dragon Eye hadn’t been a ninja to begin with. He’d been born a samurai. Circumstance of war and a twisted poisoned mind had turned him towards the ninja. Although it was those skills that made him the terror he became, Dragon Eye’s heart had never been pure.
If Jack was to stay true to his own samurai teachings, he must follow the first virtue of bushido, Rectitude, to be fair and equal to all people. This demanded that he give the ninja a chance to prove themselves, before judging them all to be like Dragon Eye.
It wouldn’t delay me greatly to stay a few days, thought Jack. And I might learn a few things to my advantage.
But should he decide to stay, he’d have to be on his guard at all times.
Lost in thought, Jack found himself wandering be
side the edge of the pond. As he neared a large maple tree, he heard Hanzo shouting.
‘Tengu! Up here!’
Jack saw the boy hanging from a branch high above the water.
‘What are you doing?’
‘Training,’ he replied, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.
‘For what?’
‘Holding on. You need to be strong to climb walls. Sometimes you might have to hold on for hours before you can escape. I bet you can’t hang on as long as I can!’
Jack smiled. There was something compelling about the boy’s enthusiasm, and also something very familiar. Hanzo reminded him a little of his good friend Yori. Deciding he’d had enough of thinking, Jack put down his swords and pack, and climbed the tree. Shimmying along the branch, Jack dropped down beside Hanzo and clung on with his fingers.
‘So how long do we do this?’
Hanzo grinned. ‘Until one of us falls in.’
As they both dangled over the pond, Miyuki appeared.
‘You’ve decided to hang around then?’ she smirked.
‘For a little while,’ Jack replied. ‘Thanks for saving me this morning.’
‘Don’t thank me. I was under orders. I’d have left you to your fate.’
‘No, you wouldn’t,’ said Hanzo, shocked. ‘Shonin said Jack’s one of us.’
‘He’s not a ninja,’ replied Miyuki dismissively. ‘A samurai doesn’t have the skill or pureness of heart to be a real ninja.’
‘Of course he does. Jack’s King of the Tengu!’
‘Is that right?’ she mocked.
‘Apparently,’ Jack replied, swinging nonchalantly from the branch, his old skills of hanging from the yardarm as a rigging monkey quickly coming back.
Miyuki glared up at him. ‘You think what you’re doing now makes you a ninja? That’s kids’ training.’
Still smarting from his defeat at hand-to-hand combat, Jack felt compelled to challenge Miyuki. ‘You’re just scared I could beat you.’
‘No!’ she shot back. ‘Samurai always think they’re so superior.’
Miyuki leapt cat-like into the tree and climbed on to the branch next to Jack’s. She positioned herself opposite him.
‘You think this is easy. The real test is whether you could do this under the pressure of battle.’
‘Why would I be hanging from a tree in the middle of a fight?’ asked Jack.
Miyuki rolled her eyes in irritation. ‘It could be a castle wall or a rock face. Whatever, you wouldn’t last a minute.’
Jack thought of Yamato clinging to the balcony in Osaka, while he’d been desperately holding on to the rope from which Akiko dangled. He’d been faced with an impossible choice, but he hadn’t let go. ‘What makes you so certain of that?’
Miyuki lifted her leg and kicked Jack in the stomach.
Taken by surprise, he couldn’t avoid the attack. The foot connected and a blast of pain rocketed through his midriff. Absorbing the impact, he somehow managed to cling on to the branch with his fingertips. Miyuki tried again, this time roundhouse-kicking him in the thigh. But Jack had regained his hold and was ready for her. He raised his knee, blocking the attack, then swung both his feet at Miyuki.
She let go with one arm and swayed out of the way. Using her free hand, she reached over and hammered Jack’s knuckles with her fist. Jack was forced to release his grip, grabbing further down the branch. It began to bend under his weight.
Meanwhile, Hanzo was laughing in delight at the acrobatic tree fight.
Miyuki swung herself across to another bough to get a better angle of attack on Jack. The two of them fought in mid-air, each trying to gain the advantage.
Scissor-kicking him, Miyuki wrapped her legs round Jack’s waist. She tugged on his body, trying to dislodge him. Jack struggled to keep hold, his strength now rapidly fading. As a last-ditch effort, he released one hand and grabbed for Miyuki’s wrist. He yanked her grip loose at the same time as she pulled him from his branch. They both tumbled through the air, entangled in one another’s grasp, and fell into the water.
Jack came up gasping, Miyuki beside him. She stared daggers at Jack.
Hanzo dropped from the tree on to the bank. ‘I win!’ he shouted with glee.
Miyuki ignored the jubilant Hanzo.
‘You should leave, samurai,’ she seethed. ‘Before you really get hurt.’
‘You’ve just convinced me to stay,’ Jack replied, smiling amiably. ‘You make a fine sparring partner.’
‘Great!’ said Hanzo, oblivious to Miyuki’s horrified reaction. ‘You can train with us every day.’
Dragging herself out of the water, Miyuki fixed Jack with an icy glare.
‘I’ll be watching you,’ she said. ‘I don’t trust samurai.’
And I don’t trust ninja, thought Jack.
14
GRANDMASTER
‘Back so soon,’ observed Soke as Jack, dripping wet, entered the yard with Hanzo.
Jack could see that the old man had been expecting him. Three bowls of rice and a pot of tea were set out upon the bench in the yard.
‘Hanzo persuaded me to hang around,’ Jack replied, putting his pack inside the doma.
Soke nodded. ‘He’s a fruit that won’t ever fall. It’s no wonder you lost.’
‘I was actually shaken from the tree,’ Jack admitted. ‘By Miyuki.’
‘Why am I not surprised?’ laughed Soke, indicating for Jack to join him on the bench. ‘She has a wild spirit, that one.’
Soke handed Jack a bowl of rice, and all three tucked into their dinner as the evening sun slowly dropped behind the mountains.
‘Can Jack train with me tomorrow?’ asked Hanzo eagerly.
‘That depends upon whether the Grandmaster will allow it,’ Soke replied.
‘The Grandmaster?’ said Jack.
‘Yes, he’s the protector and overseer of our school of ninjutsu. The Grandmaster holds the key to the eighteen disciplines of our martial art.’
‘Eighteen!’
‘Yes. A ninja must learn them all. Hand-to-hand combat. Weapon skills like the shuriken, shuko and kusarigama. Evasion techniques of disguise, concealment and stealth-walking. The mystical arts of explosives, poisons, mind control and kuji-in magic. Ninjutsu is about becoming a total warrior, one who is independent, invincible and – most importantly – invisible.’
‘So the Grandmaster is the teacher of all this?’
‘Yes, but there is only ever one Grandmaster at a time,’ explained Soke, finishing his rice. ‘He carries all the knowledge with him. He alone possesses the densho, the scrolls that contain the secrets of our art.’
‘But what happens when he dies?’ asked Jack.
‘It’s the Grandmaster’s duty to ensure the knowledge is passed on from generation to generation. Tradition dictates that he’ll have chosen a student and trained that person in preparation for the role. Upon his death, the pupil will inherit the scrolls and become the next Grandmaster.’
‘That’s some responsibility,’ observed Jack.
‘Yes, it is,’ Soke agreed. ‘And only the Grandmaster has the authority to change the techniques or traditions of our art. Only he can decide if you, Jack, a foreigner and a samurai, should be permitted to learn our secrets.’
Jack stopped eating. He’d become excited at the prospect of learning such extraordinary skills. He’d never imagined there was so much to being a ninja. And since leaving the Niten Ichi Ryū, he missed the challenge and thrill of training. But now Soke had raised doubt as to whether he would be taught at all.
‘When do I get to meet this Grandmaster?’ asked Jack tentatively.
Soke smiled at him. ‘You already have.’ He raised his cup to Jack. ‘Pour me some tea, will you?’
Jack stared dumbfounded at the old man.
‘Soke is my title; it means Grandmaster.’
Jack knew he shouldn’t be so shocked. His Zen teacher, Sensei Yamada, had been ancient, yet still a deadly force to be reckoned with
. Soke was no different. To master the eighteen disciplines of ninjutsu would undoubtedly take a lifetime. Jack picked up the pot and filled Soke’s cup with a trembling hand.
Straight away, Soke poured the tea on to the ground.
‘Is something wrong?’ asked Jack, concerned he’d offended the Grandmaster.
‘The usefulness of a cup is its emptiness. If you are to train as a ninja, you must forget everything you’ve learnt as a samurai.’
15
THE FIVE RINGS
‘Are you ready for your first lesson?’ asked Soke.
‘Now?’ said Jack, both eager and apprehensive at the idea.
‘Time flies like the wind. You must catch it while you can.’
Picking up his walking stick, Soke stood and beckoned Jack to follow him. Hanzo remained behind to clear up. The summer evening was warm and pleasant, the sun shimmering off the mountain peaks in a halo of golden light. Soke led Jack through the paddy fields to a small rise overlooking the village.
‘In order to understand ninjutsu, you must first understand the Five Rings,’ Soke began, using his cane to draw five interlocking circles on the ground. ‘These are the five great elements of our universe – Earth, Water, Fire, Wind and Sky.’
With the tip of his stick, Soke wrote the kanji symbols for each element into each one of the circles.
‘The Five Rings form the basis of our approach to life. As ninja, we recognize the power of nature and seek to be in harmony with it. Each of the Rings represents different physical and emotional states:
‘Earth stands for stability and confidence.
‘Water is adaptability.
‘Fire is energy and commitment of spirit.
‘Wind is freedom, both of mind and body.
‘Sky is the Void, the things beyond our everyday existence, the unseen power and creative energy of the universe.’
The Ring of Earth Page 6