The Ring of Earth

by Chris Bradford

  ‘To achieve this feat is as much about mastering the mind as the body,’ said Soke, tapping a finger to his temple. ‘You have to consciously suppress your need to breathe. The best way to do this is to think about something else, something pleasant. I want you all to practise this now.’

  As the circle of students began deep breathing in preparation for the task and filled their lungs, an unspoken challenge arose among them. No one wanted to be the first to have to take a breath.

  They sat in silence, some with eyes closed, all of them in meditative postures. Jack focused on relaxing his body and slowing his heartbeat. To begin with, the task was easy. But as the first minute approached, the instinct to breathe grew from mild requirement to desperate need. His stomach tightened and his lungs cramped, but he fought the urge.

  Remembering Soke’s advice, Jack thought of his sister Jess. He imagined returning home to her, seeing her pretty face shining with joy at his long-awaited return. He tried to picture how her appearance would have changed in all the years he’d been away.

  This helped him past the initial burn and the challenge became easier. Jack was aware that several students had already given up. But he kept going. He wanted to prove he was as capable as the best of them.

  Another minute passed. Jack now felt a little light-headed and somewhat detached from his body. The urge to breathe was once again building, like water up against a dam. More students succumbed, gasping air back into their oxygen-starved lungs.

  Miyuki wasn’t one of them. She remained calm and focused, her eyes fixed on Jack. He returned her gaze, and a personal battle of wills was taken up.

  Jack was determined to beat Miyuki. She seemed unfazed by the task. But a vein pulsed in her neck, the muscles of which twitched under the strain. She was struggling too.

  This gave Jack hope as they entered the third minute. Although he’d never attempted a feat like this before, he understood the principles that allowed the body to achieve the seemingly impossible. During the Circle of Three challenges the year before, he’d learnt the only limits were those of the mind. Akiko had proved this when she stood beneath a freezing waterfall for longer than the burning time of three sticks of incense and hadn’t gone into thermal shock.

  The body can keep going as long as the mind is strong, the Tendai priest had said.

  Jack concentrated on his memories of Akiko. Seeing her smiling face before him, remembering their times together beneath the sakura tree, feeding off the strength of their relationship.

  Forever bound to one another.

  There were now only three students left – Tenzen, Jack and Miyuki.

  ‘Look! His face is red as a Daruma Doll!’ exclaimed Shiro.

  Jack barely registered the comment, the voices distant and detached. Darkness was seeping into the edge of his vision, but he was too close to winning to give up now. His samurai pride was at stake.

  Tenzen submitted and took several relieved breaths. Now only the two of them remained: Miyuki and Jack locked in silent combat.

  ‘Come on, tengu!’ encouraged Hanzo, unable to control his excitement.

  The other students took up a whispered chant of ‘Miyuki! Miyuki! Miyuki!’

  Miyuki’s whole body was trembling now.

  I’m going to beat her, thought Jack. I’m going to beat her.

  19

  CONSTANT THREAT

  ‘I can’t believe you passed out!’ exclaimed Hanzo, his face creased with laughter. ‘I thought you’d died!’

  ‘Just concentrate on your cutting exercise,’ snapped Jack, holding up his shaft of bamboo as a target.

  As likeable as the boy was, he could be infuriating at times. Jack was attempting to give him a sword lesson in the yard before dinner, but Hanzo was unable to get over Jack’s dramatic defeat in the breathing challenge.

  Hanzo lowered his weapon, his brow suddenly furrowing into a worried expression. ‘But tengu can’t die, can they?’

  Jack shook his head, though he was thinking, This tengu can!

  Determined to beat Miyuki, Jack had stopped breathing until his oxygen-starved brain blacked out. Thankfully, his body instinctively started breathing again and, coming to, he’d been greeted by the Grandmaster’s concerned face. ‘That was a remarkable first effort,’ Soke had said. ‘But an unconscious ninja is as good as dead. A lesson for you all: recognize your limits.’

  Even though he’d lost to Miyuki, Jack had gained respect from the other ninja who’d been impressed by his astounding willpower.

  The rest of the lesson had been devoted to shallow breathing techniques: first controlling the sound of their breathing; then recognizing the difference between someone asleep and someone pretending; and finally learning how to feign death.

  ‘This evasion technique should only be used as a last resort, as it leaves you exposed to your enemy,’ Soke had explained. ‘But by pretending you’re dead, or mortally injured, you can lure an enemy into a vulnerable position for attack.’

  They’d all attempted the technique, but it had proved far more difficult to appear dead than anyone had imagined. Many of the younger students burst into fits of giggles, Tenzen sneezed and Jack struggled to maintain a vacant dead stare without blinking. But Hanzo had been disturbingly convincing – he hadn’t even reacted when the Grandmaster prodded him twice with his cane.

  ‘Dinner’s ready,’ announced Soke from the doorway of the doma.

  ‘Great, I’m starving!’ replied Hanzo, bowing hurriedly to Jack and dashing inside.

  Jack smiled, wondering how Hanzo had managed to keep still long enough to feign death. The boy was so full of life.

  After dinner, Soke suggested Jack should practise his stealth-walking in the paddy fields, Hanzo having gone off to play with his friend Kobei. The evening was pleasantly warm, the sun glinting like liquid gold off the waters. Rolling up his leggings, Jack entered the field behind the house. The mud was soft and yielding beneath his feet. Remembering how he must spear his foot and lift the back one high and clear, Jack began to make his way to the other side.

  Each step sent large ripples through the reflected sky. But as he progressed, the disturbances upon the water’s surface became less and less. Jack discovered balance was crucial in helping him place his lead foot. With careful adjustment and by pointing his toes, he managed to enter the water almost without sound, the ripples now far less noticeable – the only problem being that his progress was slower than a snail’s.

  Halfway across, Jack couldn’t help laughing at the absurdity of what he was doing. Here he was in Japan, ankle deep in a paddy field, a former rigging monkey turned samurai warrior attempting to walk like a ninja! He could just imagine what his friend Saburo would say if he ever found out. Not that he intended to tell any of his samurai friends. Jack still felt very uncomfortable at the idea of training as a ninja. But it was a matter of necessity if he was to get to Nagasaki safely. Refocusing, he continued with his stealth-walking practice.

  The sun was clipping the mountaintops by the time Jack finally returned to his starting point. He was about to clamber back on to the path when he heard two people engaged in a tense discussion.

  ‘I understand you’re teaching ninjutsu to our guest,’ said a voice disapprovingly.

  ‘Yes, I believe he has an aptitude for it.’

  Silently lifting his feet one by one out of the water, Jack stealth-walked to the back of the house and peeked round the corner. The second-in-command, Momochi, was having tea with Soke under the tree.

  ‘You’re disclosing our innermost secrets to him,’ seethed Momochi, his moustache twitching with annoyance.

  ‘Not all, just the ones he needs to survive his journey.’

  ‘But he’s a samurai! And a foreigner! This goes against the doctrine of the scrolls. It must stop.’

  Soke shook his head. ‘It’s my decision as Grandmaster who can or cannot be taught our Art. By all means, take it up with Shonin. But I think we owe it to the boy to help him, considering all he
’s been through with Dragon Eye –’

  ‘I won’t see our village risked for the sake of some misplaced guilt,’ Momochi interrupted, his anger bubbling to the surface. ‘The boy’s a constant threat to our village. Samurai patrols are on the increase. I can soon arrange to hand him over to daimyo Akechi, then our village would be safe.’

  ‘I’ve already told you, there’s no bargaining with that lord,’ said Soke firmly. ‘Akechi is bent upon wiping the shinobi out, just as General Nobunaga almost did. Delivering the boy will only strengthen his influence with the Shogun. I don’t want Akechi persuading him that ninja are a threat in times of peace. With the Shogun backing him, we wouldn’t stand a chance.’

  ‘But our outposts report that Akechi is preparing for an offensive with or without the Shogun’s support. I’ve got word he’s planning to raise a second battalion at his castle in Maruyama.’

  ‘All the more reason to keep a low profile.’

  ‘All the more reason to hand over the samurai boy. We don’t know where his loyalties lie. He could betray us for his own freedom.’

  ‘I doubt that,’ Soke replied, putting down his teacup. ‘Jack may be samurai, but he is honourable and has a pure heart worthy of a ninja.’

  ‘You place too much faith in this gaijin, Soke. I will speak with Shonin. Maybe he can make you see some sense.’

  Bowing curtly, Momochi strode off in the direction of the farmhouse.

  Jack waited for the Grandmaster to go back inside.

  Why did Soke feel so compelled to help him?

  Jack got the sense the old man somehow blamed himself for his predicament. Or perhaps Soke knew about the rutter, and was trying to work his way into Jack’s trust so he could acquire the code. But isolated by choice within this valley, Soke and his clan could have no connection with Dragon Eye or the political ambitions of the man who’d hired him, Father Bobadillo.

  Soke had said, A single tree doesn’t make a forest. In the short time he’d been living and training with the ninja, Jack was starting to appreciate that. And whatever the Grandmaster was up to, he was just glad the man was willing to teach him their skills – they’d be vital to his survival on the journey ahead.

  Though he had no reason to trust any ninja, he had some sympathy for their situation. The samurai lord sounded a tyrant and Jack certainly didn’t want to attract further trouble to the village by staying. At the same time, if he left now, he’d be caught and do just that. He was trapped by circumstances. As agreed with Soke, it would be best to wait until the samurai gave up their search.

  In the meantime, he’d have to be very wary of Momochi. Without doubt, that ninja would sacrifice him at the first opportunity.

  20

  SIXTEEN SECRET FISTS

  Jack grimaced in agony. Miyuki had him on his knees, pain paralysing him. All she was holding was his thumb – and she was compressing it into an excruciating lock. To add insult to injury, the young ninja was standing on his toes.

  ‘That’s how you do the technique, samurai,’ she said, releasing him.

  Over the past two weeks, Jack had not only continued practising evasion and escape tactics, but had been introduced to the ninja’s version of taijutsu. Initially surprised at how different the unarmed combat training was from that of the Niten Ichi Ryū, he now appreciated the effectiveness of their style and found it appealing. The aim behind their taijutsu wasn’t necessarily to kill, but to fight their way through to a means of escape. And while the samurai rigorously drilled their moves to perfection, the ninja rarely practised a technique more than five times in any session.

  ‘A rigid system is open to attack,’ the Grandmaster had explained in their first taijutsu lesson. ‘Any formal structure has weakness inherent within it. That’s the flaw in the samurai’s fighting art. Take the foundations from the house and it collapses.’

  Soke had demonstrated this on Jack, asking for a classic samurai attack. Neatly evading his cross-punch, Soke had stepped on Jack’s lead foot, then knocked the back of his knee to take away his balance. Jack was so distracted by this that, before he could retaliate, Soke had him in a painful armlock and was sweeping him to the ground.

  ‘There’s no right or wrong way in ninjutsu,’ the Grandmaster had gone on to say. ‘It only has to work. Each attack you’ll encounter is unique in terms of distance and timing, so each response should be unique in its own way. Learn the basic principles, then apply them with a flexible mind.’

  Every taijutsu lesson so far had been a painful experience. But none more so than today when Soke had partnered him with Miyuki to run through the most crippling locking techniques.

  Jack stood up, massaging his throbbing thumb. The morning sun was now filtering through the trees into the glade, but the lesson was far from over. The other students were tirelessly practising different hand-to-hand strikes.

  ‘Good work, Miyuki,’ said Soke, nodding with approval at her execution of the thumb lock. ‘I think it’s time you taught Jack the Sixteen Secret Fists of the ninja.’

  Miyuki stared at Soke, taken aback by his suggestion. ‘Does he really need to know them all?’

  Soke nodded.

  ‘As you wish, Grandmaster,’ she said, reluctantly bowing to his request.

  ‘Jack,’ said Soke, ‘you may be familiar through your samurai training with a few of these techniques – the use of the fist, edge of the hand, elbow or knee to strike with. But the ninja don’t limit themselves to this. We see the whole body as a weapon. Miyuki, please demonstrate Demon Horn Fist.’

  Without warning, Miyuki charged head first into Jack. Her forehead struck his ribcage, knocking him to the ground. Jack landed heavily, wheezing for breath.

  ‘I admire your eagerness, Miyuki, but that may have been a little too hard,’ cautioned Soke.

  ‘I held back,’ she protested, raising her hands in innocence. ‘I didn’t break his ribs, did I?’

  You weren’t far off it, thought Jack, knowing Miyuki was trying to assert her dominance again.

  ‘It’s all right,’ said Jack as he took a breath and brushed himself down. ‘I should have been in a stronger stance.’

  ‘Very well,’ said Soke. ‘Continue demonstrating the rest of the techniques. But be careful, especially with the Eight Leaves Fist.’

  He gave Miyuki a stern look before wandering off to check on the other students’ progress.

  ‘What’s the Eight Leaves Fist?’ asked Jack.

  Cupping her hands, Miyuki slapped Jack either side of the head on his ears. Even though the attack was relatively soft, Jack reeled from the unexpected strike. His legs buckled momentarily and he lurched to one side.

  ‘Done properly,’ Miyuki explained, smirking as Jack had to lean against a tree to steady himself, ‘the Eight Leaves Fist can cause loss of balance and deafness in your enemy.’

  ‘I can understand why,’ said Jack, his ears still ringing.

  ‘This one’s called Extended Knuckle Fist.’

  Folding her fingers at the second knuckle, she raked them down the centre of his chest. In spite of himself, Jack cried out. The attack was excruciating. Before he could recover, she went on to the next.

  ‘This one’s Finger Needle Fist.’

  Standing in front of Jack, Miyuki closed her right hand to leave only the little finger protruding.

  ‘What are you going to do with that?’ asked Jack warily. The digit appeared too fragile for any meaningful strike.

  ‘It’s for soft targets. Like the eyes or …’

  Reaching over, Miyuki inserted her little finger into his left ear and pressed deep into the canal. Before he knew it, an arc of pain like lightning coursed through Jack’s body.

  ‘That hurts!’ he exclaimed, standing on tiptoes to relieve the agony.

  ‘It should do,’ she said calmly. ‘I’ve targeted a kyusho point.’

  ‘Please, that’s enough!’

  ‘But how are you going to understand the effectiveness of these techniques if you don’t experie
nce them for yourself? Some samurai you are!’

  She removed her finger, releasing the nerve point, and the pain instantly stopped. ‘Perhaps we should end the lesson.’

  ‘No!’ shot back Jack.

  ‘Then stop complaining.’

  ‘I just have an aversion to unnecessary torture, that’s all,’ argued Jack.

  ‘Well, you’re clearly not man enough to be a ninja,’ she retorted.

  Riled by the implication, Jack did stop complaining. But by the end of the session, he felt bruised and battered all over. Miyuki hadn’t held back in her demonstration of any of the Sixteen Secret Fists – even to the point of knocking him temporarily unconscious with Fall Down Fist. Yet, in a single session, her phenomenal skill had helped him understand how to apply the different fists and their effectiveness in combat.

  ‘Excellent work, both of you,’ commended Soke, drawing the training to a close. ‘Jack, you’ve been extraordinarily fast in grasping the principles.’

  ‘I’ve had a very dedicated teacher,’ Jack replied, smiling coolly at Miyuki.

  ‘I’m sure she was,’ said Soke, a knowing smile on his face. ‘Why else do you think I chose her!’

  As the Grandmaster went to dismiss the class formally, Miyuki whispered out of the corner of her mouth, ‘Soke may be pleased, but I’m not so easily impressed. Don’t outstay your welcome, samurai. You’re not a ninja, and you never will be.’

  Miyuki turned and strode off in the direction of the village.

  Jack was taken aback by her continued animosity. The other ninja were beginning to accept him and he couldn’t think of any reason to deserve such spite. Recalling his training with Akiko at the Niten Ichi Ryū, Jack wondered how two warrior girls could be so different.

  Akiko and Miyuki were like fire and ice.

  Training had been a pleasure with Akiko. With Miyuki, it was a trial. If Soke hadn’t held her in so much esteem, Jack would have sworn Miyuki was the ninja sister of Kazuki. Though a gifted martial artist, Miyuki acted as hard and unforgiving as a rock and was almost as malicious as his old school rival.