‘But there’s nothing for me here,’ Hana replied dolefully. ‘Being with you and Ronin is the first time I’ve felt I belonged.’
Jack felt the crushing loneliness in Hana’s heart. ‘I understand … but might it not be safer to stay with Ronin?’
Hana looked over at the samurai, who’d fallen into a fitful sleep. She shook her head sadly. ‘He wouldn’t want me around. It was stupid suggesting he adopt me!’
She made to move away from the fire. ‘Just forget I asked to join you. No one wants me. I’m a hinin.’
‘A hinin?’
‘An outcast. A nobody.’
‘You’re not a nobody,’ stressed Jack. ‘You’re Hana.’
‘Am I? I don’t even know my real name. I just called myself “Hana” because I heard someone say it and liked it. I was hiding in a bush, when a samurai lady stopped and pointed, saying, “Hana, hana.” For a moment, I thought she was pointing at me! But she was just showing her daughter the flowers …’
Tears welled in Hana’s eyes at the memory.
Jack didn’t know what to say. He pulled the bedraggled origami crane from the sleeve of his kimono and handed it to Hana.
‘My good friend Yori gave me this to bring luck upon my journey home. I want you to look after it. To remind you that you’re not a nobody. You have a friend in me.’
Hana took the crane and smiled. ‘Thank you,’ she whispered, wiping her eyes. ‘That means a great deal. I’ve never had a true friend before.’
Jack reached over. ‘Look, you can pull its tail and make the wings flap.’
Hana giggled and Jack felt grateful that, for once, he’d been able to pass on the joys of friendship. So far it had always been about him trying to fit in, to become accepted by others.
Looking at Hana then at Ronin snoring away, he realized all three of them were outcasts of Japanese society – a masterless samurai, a girl thief and a foreigner. But, bound together by fate, they were no longer outcasts. They were friends.
34
BUDDHA’S NOSE
Jack looked up from beneath Ronin’s straw hat and gasped. He’d never seen a building so immense and grand. The Tōdai-ji’s main hall dominated the landscape. Broad as a mountain and taller than the highest spire, it made the monks and pilgrims who wandered the temple grounds seem like ants. Constructed entirely of wood, its walls were painted white and the beams varnished a deep russet brown as if built from the armour of a king. Crowning the uppermost roof were two curved horns that glinted of gold in the morning sun.
Jack followed Ronin and Hana down the wide thoroughfare that led to the steps of the temple. On either side were beautifully manicured gardens and throughout the grounds roamed hundreds of deer. Some of the animals were taking food from the hands of monks. Hana caught him staring at this strange sight.
‘Deer are seen as heavenly creatures by the people of Nara,’ she explained. ‘They’re believed to protect the city from harm.’
Passing a large stone lantern set into the path, the three of them headed towards a covered wellspring. Jack and Hana washed their mouths and hands, while Ronin took a covert swig from a fresh bottle of rice wine.
‘That’s all the purification I need,’ he said, smacking his lips in satisfaction.
On their way through Nara, they’d passed a saké store and Ronin had been able to satisfy his thirst. Fortunately for Jack and Hana, there’d been a shop next door selling manjū, so they spent the small amount of money left on three steamed buns and some more dried rice.
Having purified themselves, they climbed the stone steps up to the main hall. Outside its entrance was a large urn, trails of incense smoke wafting from a pincushion of burning sticks. The six great doors, five times the height of a man, were wide open and welcoming. They stepped inside the hall’s darkened recesses and once again Jack’s breath was taken away.
Seated before them, right palm held out, left hand resting in his lap, was a colossal bronze statue of the Buddha. Framed by an ornate golden backdrop, the effigy towered over the three of them, its gaze fixed upon the horizon. Even Ronin was awed in its presence.
To either side, further within the hall, were two gigantic warrior statues. Carved from wood, one painted yellow, the other red, these fierce guardians were almost as tall as the pillars that held up the Tōdai-ji’s roof. Hana wandered off to take a closer look. Beside the entrance was a young priest and Jack approached, head bowed. He pulled the green silk omamori out of his kimono.
‘Ah! I see you’ve been here before,’ said the priest softly, greeting Jack with a humble bow.
‘No, I’m afraid not,’ replied Jack. ‘I actually found this and believe it belongs to someone from your temple. Perhaps you know the person who lost it?’
The priest smiled serenely and gave a gentle shake of his head. ‘We sell many of these amulets,’ he explained, pointing to a stall bedecked with green silk omamori. ‘That one could belong to any of a thousand pilgrims.’
Jack gazed at the rows upon rows of amulets, and despaired. The clue – the single piece of evidence he had from his attack – had come to nothing. He bowed his thanks to the priest and returned to Ronin.
The only lead remaining was the name Botan. ‘How are we going to find this samurai now?’
‘I’ll have to ask around town,’ replied Ronin, ‘but it will draw attention to us.’
‘Look at this!’ cried Hana.
‘Shh! Please don’t break the silence,’ cautioned the monk beside her.
‘My apologies,’ replied Hana, and mutely beckoned Jack and Ronin over to a large wooden supporting post towards the rear of the great hall.
The pillar, as broad as an old oak tree, had a hole running straight through its base. As Ronin and Jack approached, Hana expressed her thanks and bowed goodbye to the monk.
‘Would you believe it!’ she exclaimed. ‘This hole is the same size as one of the giant Buddha statue’s nostrils. If you can pass through it, the gods will bestow luck upon you and you’ll be blessed with enlightenment in your next life.’
‘Pah!’ dismissed Ronin.
Ignoring his scepticism, Hana knelt down and wriggled through the hole. She popped out the other side a moment later.
‘I’m enlightened. Who’s next?’
‘After you, Ronin,’ said Jack.
‘I don’t believe in the gods,’ he muttered. ‘And they certainly don’t believe in me.’
Jack felt he had nothing to lose. Furthermore, he recalled the Riddling Monk mentioning the Buddha’s Nose. This had to be it. Crouching down, he looked through the hole. It was far smaller than he’d imagined. Quickly checking no one was watching, he passed Hana his hat and Ronin his swords before entering the narrow tunnel, arms first. Crawling along, he got about halfway when his shoulders jammed. Jack kicked with his legs, but it was no use.
‘I’m stuck!’ he whispered as loud as he dared.
Hana’s grinning face appeared at the other end. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll pull you through.’
Jack squirmed, his legs waggling on one side, while Hana tugged on his arms from the other. Ronin just smirked at Jack’s comical predicament. With much heaving and effort, Jack inched his way through and finally shot out and on to the floor, Hana falling backwards in a fit of smothered giggling.
‘That had better be worth it,’ panted Jack.
As he got to his feet and put his hat back on, Jack spotted something out of the corner of his eye.
A samurai had entered the main hall and was conversing with the head priest. Accompanied by a small entourage, the man was evidently important – either a high-ranking retainer or a lord. He was dressed formally in a black winged kataginu jacket, a pleated hakama of black-and-white stripes, stark-white tabi socks and, most unusually, his swords had handle wrappings of white silk.
But what had caught Jack’s eye was the small rectangular box on the samurai’s hip. The inro and its netsuke were exactly the same design as the one daimyo Takatomi had given him.
/> It couldn’t be coincidence. This had to be the man they were seeking.
35
SASUMATA
‘Are you certain this time?’ asked Ronin as the three of them discreetly followed the samurai and his entourage around the temple grounds.
‘That’s my inro,’ replied Jack, nodding. ‘Do you think he’s Botan?’
Ronin shook his head. ‘I was under the impression Botan was a low-ranking samurai. This man is of too high a status.’
‘So who is he?’ said Hana.
Ronin approached one of the monks feeding a tame deer to enquire. The monk humbly bowed his head as he answered. ‘That is daimyo Sanada, Lord of Nara Province.’
Jack felt a cold chill run through him. How had a samurai lord come into possession of his inro? This suggested an association between daimyo Sanada and the samurai Botan. Could it be that Botan and his gang had been working for daimyo Sanada all along? If so, this samurai lord might also have the rutter. And if he was aware of its significance the logbook could already be on its way to the Shogun!
Leaving the monk with his deer, the three of them continued to walk down the main thoroughfare, trailing their quarry.
‘I think daimyo Sanada could be behind my attack,’ said Jack.
‘The inro could be a copy?’ Ronin proposed.
Jack shook his head. ‘Daimyo Takatomi had the gift specifically commissioned. It’s one of a kind. Myself, Akiko and Yamato were each given different designs.’
‘Well, perhaps he bought it from Botan.’
Jack considered this. It was certainly possible. Whatever the truth, a connection between the two was indisputable and it might just lead them to the rutter.
‘I could steal it back for you,’ suggested Hana.
Ronin frowned at her. ‘His bodyguards would chop your hands off before you got anywhere near him.’
Her face went pale at the thought and she protectively pulled her hands inside her kimono sleeves.
‘We need to meet with him,’ said Jack. ‘Find out how he acquired my inro. And discover the whereabouts of the rutter.’
‘You can’t just walk up to him,’ said Ronin. ‘We’d need a formal invitation.’
Cautiously, Jack ventured, ‘Would your father’s name hold any sway?’
A shadow passed across Ronin’s face. ‘I doubt it. He was well respected but had his enemies. Besides, you wouldn’t get away with hiding your face in the presence of a daimyo.’
‘Why don’t we just find out where this lord lives?’ said Hana. ‘Then we could sneak in at night and search for the rutter. Like we did with the pearl.’
Ronin dismissed this suggestion with a wave of his hand. ‘A daimyo’s mansion is heavily guarded and likely to be booby-trapped. No samurai, let alone a girl thief, could accomplish such a mission. You’d need to be a ninja to get inside undetected!’
Jack tried not to smile at this. His ninjutsu stealth training meant he could attempt it.
‘It’s our only option,’ he said, much to Ronin’s surprise and Hana’s delight. ‘Let’s at least follow him home.’
Daimyo Sanada was already heading out of the Great Southern Gate and Jack and the others quickened their pace to catch up. Passing between the immense pillars that supported the gate’s curving roof, Jack spotted two fearsome muscular guardians upon either side of the entrance. These wooden statues, Agyō and Ungyō, the protectors of Buddha, glared down at them. They each held out a hand as if in warning to stop. But the warning came too late for Jack, Ronin and Hana.
As they stepped out of the Tōdai-ji’s grounds, the sound of dozens of running feet greeted them. In moments, they were surrounded by a company of dōshin. Each man held either a long bamboo staff or a sasumata – a pole with a vicious-looking U-shaped prong.
Ronin, Jack and Hana went for their swords, but they were immediately beaten with the staves, blows raining down upon them from every direction. Even if they could have used their weapons, their attackers remained out of reach at the ends of their poles. Driven back against the gate’s pillars, the three of them were pinned by the throat and arms with several sasumata.
‘And they said you were dangerous!’ smirked the leading officer, although he still kept a wary distance.
Just as Jack thought the punishing beating was over, his head was clamped between four bamboo poles that formed a box round his skull. Released from the grip of the sasumata, Jack tried to struggle free, but the four dōshin on each end squeezed the poles together and he was wracked with pain. It was so unbearable he was completely incapacitated. Ronin and Hana were both in the same predicament. Their swords were taken and the three of them were at the mercy of the dōshin.
‘Come on! Let’s not keep his lordship waiting,’ shouted the officer, and the dōshin marched them into town.
Grimacing in pain, Ronin muttered, ‘This is not the formal invitation I’d envisaged.’
36
DAIMYO SANADA
‘Truly a magnificent work of art!’ declared daimyo Sanada, drawing the blade of Jack’s katana and admiring its exquisite hamon. In the sunlight, the swirling pattern of waves upon the steel shimmered as if flowing.
Having been escorted into the garden of the daimyo’s mansion, Jack, Ronin and Hana were now on their knees, their heads bowed and their hands bound behind their backs. They stared in submission at a chequerboard of black and white paving stones, awaiting their fate. The path along which they’d been dragged was laid out with black and white pebbles. And, sneaking a glance, Jack saw the mansion itself was built of white walls and black pillars. Just like his striped hakama, everything in the daimyo’s domain appeared to be either black or white.
‘Shizu’s craftsmanship is beyond compare,’ said daimyo Sanada, sheathing the blade with the utmost respect. ‘Certainly far too good for a gaijin!’
He handed the daishō to one of his retainers, a bald-headed man with sharp slanting eyebrows and a sour crumpled face. Jack’s heart sank. Having risked so much to retrieve them, his precious swords had once again been taken from him.
The daimyo paced in front of his three prisoners. ‘I didn’t expect your capture so soon. The warrant for your arrest was only delivered by the metsuke this very morning.’ He waved the scroll before them. ‘Three travellers – a ronin with a beard, a hinin girl and a hat-wearing gaijin samurai carrying red-handled Shizu swords. I suppose it wasn’t hard for my officers to spot you. But I’m puzzled why you’ve come to Nara in the first place?’
Jack saw little reason not to answer the daimyo. Despite their dire situation, he still wanted to know the fate of his father’s rutter.
‘I’ve been trying to reach Nagasaki and leave Japan – as decreed by the Shogun – but I was ambushed on the border of the Iga mountains and had all my belongings stolen. We came here looking for them.’
The daimyo sighed in mock sympathy. ‘That is such a great shame. And what exactly have you lost?’
‘The inro on your obi to begin with,’ said Jack, nodding to the lacquered carrying case. ‘One of your samurai stole it from me.’
‘That is a very grave accusation. This was a gift from my advisor, Kanesuke-san,’ revealed Sanada, indicating the bald-headed retainer. ‘Are you calling him a thief?’
‘Why not ask him where he got it?’ challenged Jack.
Kanesuke’s face screwed up with barely concealed outrage, but daimyo Sanada didn’t even glance in his direction. ‘Why should I even entertain the suggestion? You are the felon here.’
‘But that inro was a gift to me from daimyo Takatomi for saving his life from the ninja Dragon Eye –’
‘Daimyo Takatomi?’ interrupted the lord, his interest suddenly piqued. ‘A most honourable and astute man. He sits on the Shogun’s Council next to me. I do recall he once mentioned this incident in your defence to the Council. If it is yours, I need proof first.’ He undid the inro and held it close to his chest. ‘Describe to me the design and I’ll believe your claim.’
Jack n
odded his assent.
‘But if you fail,’ added daimyo Sanada, his eyes narrowing, ‘Kanesuke gets the pleasure of cutting off the hinin girl’s right hand.’
A guard seized Hana, undid her bonds and forced her to hold out her arm. Kanesuke, borrowing another guard’s wakizashi, placed the blade’s edge upon her wrist. Hana looked to Jack with terrified pleading eyes.
‘A sakura tree,’ blurted Jack, ‘in gold and silver.’
The daimyo looked unimpressed. ‘You could easily have seen that when you were brought in.’
‘The blossom is in ivory!’
‘I still need convincing.’
‘But I’ve told you the design!’ Jack insisted as Kanesuke raised his sword and Hana began to scream.
‘Then tell me, gaijin, how many birds are in the tree?’ the daimyo demanded, a crafty smile upon his lips.
Jack wracked his brains, trying to remember. His mind had gone blank under the pressure. Hana’s scream faded into a pitiful whimper, her face turning deathly pale as Kanesuke adjusted his grip upon the sword, ready to do the deed.
‘Wait!’ cried Jack as the daimyo’s trick dawned on him. ‘There are none!’
Kanesuke looked to his lord for permission to cut off the hand, but daimyo Sanada’s smile disintegrated into a scowl. ‘Correct.’
Kanesuke, incensed by the disclosure, brought down the sword to chop Hana’s hand off anyway.
‘NO!’ ordered Sanada, glaring at his advisor. ‘The gaijin won the challenge. And it would appear he’s telling the truth about this inro.’
The man visibly shrank under the severe gaze of his master, returned the sword and shuffled, head bowed, to his former position. Hana clasped her hand to her chest with relief.
The daimyo toyed with the inro in his hand. ‘I’d willingly give this back to you, but you’ll have little use for it where you’re going.’ He passed the carrying case to another of his retainers. ‘So, we have your inro here and, of course, your swords … what about this book called a rutter?’
The Ring of Water Page 14