The Ring of Water

by Chris Bradford

  The daimyo, his nostrils flaring, snatched up a White stone and retaliated with an invasion for the mid-left. But now he could see the game in its entirety Jack’s instincts told him to ignore this. Instead he placed a stone in the centre of the board with a loud clack.

  ‘No!’ exclaimed Ronin at such a reckless move. But it was too late. The stone had been placed.

  Daimyo Sanada grinned. The gaijin had made a fatal error!

  Yet Jack’s intuition told him that this was the right strategy. He kept deploying stones in seemingly unorthodox positions and the daimyo’s initial gloating turned to worried confusion. As the battle intensified, daimyo Sanada started to run his fingers noisily through his bowl of counters. Jack, gathering from Ronin’s expression that this was inappropriate etiquette, knew he’d thrown the daimyo off his game.

  Frowning deeply, daimyo Sanada hesitated in all his responses. But his mood lightened once he managed to create a group with two ‘eyes’. He then positively grinned when he connected this living group to the three White stones.

  Shaking his head in despair, Ronin could no longer watch the game. It was clear they were doomed. His eyes darted to the six guards who stood nearby. There was a chance he could overpower one, maybe two of them. But without his swords any escape attempt was sheer suicide.

  ‘That’s an illegal move!’ declared Kanesuke tersely.

  Ronin’s attention was brought back to the board and he saw that Jack had put a Black within one of White’s ‘eyes’.

  ‘With no liberties, you’re committing suicide,’ explained daimyo Sanada with glee.

  ‘But doesn’t my stone capture that piece?’ Jack asked innocently, pointing to the adjacent White trapped against the edge.

  Ronin took a second look at the gameplay and gasped. ‘A false eye!’

  Although Jack’s stone appeared to be surrounded, he actually had captured one of White’s. The daimyo, having been distracted by Jack’s unconventional strategy, fumed at his error in judgement. Whatever he did now, he could no longer save this group since it was enclosed on all sides by Black. On Jack’s next move, the other ‘eye’ was filled and he imprisoned the false living group – along with the three key White stones. Like an entire constellation of stars dying at once, Jack had surrounded a quadrant and taken it prisoner.

  The game entered the final phase … with everything to play for.

  The battles over stones and fights for territory were bitter, each and every liberty hard won. Jack no longer consciously thought about strategy. He just relied upon his instinctive reading of the board.

  Daimyo Sanada pushed into the one remaining gap in Black’s wall of defence, but Jack quickly shut him out, preventing further capture. The boundaries between White and Black were now fixed. The daimyo recognized there were no more stones left vulnerable to attack and he passed on his next move, handing Jack a White prisoner as required by the rules. Jack passed too, surrendering one of his own Black stones in return.

  ‘Game over,’ stated Kanesuke, and the count of unoccupied liberties and prisoners began.

  40

  LIFE AND DEATH

  Jack sensed he might snatch an unthinkable victory. And he could see it in the daimyo’s eyes too. After all the conflicts, the balance of Black and White was too close to call.

  Stooping in to count, Kanesuke stumbled and fell into the table, scattering the stones everywhere.

  ‘You fool!’ exclaimed daimyo Sanada, with something that sounded like relief. ‘How can we judge the score now?’

  Kanesuke bowed his head in shame, but Jack caught the crafty grin on his face.

  ‘Jack won,’ stated Ronin.

  ‘There can be no winner!’ the daimyo snapped. ‘The count was incomplete.’

  ‘Black conquered White by two points.’

  ‘You couldn’t see from over there.’

  ‘But I did!’ snarled Ronin, getting to his feet. Two guards seized him before he’d even taken one step towards their lord.

  ‘The game is forfeit,’ declared daimyo Sanada. ‘Take them away.’

  ‘But that man fell on purpose!’ Hana protested as she was dragged across the courtyard. ‘You cheated!’

  The daimyo, stepping into her path, grabbed her by the throat. For a second, Jack thought he would order Hana’s immediate execution.

  ‘No one accuses me of cheating,’ he said in a cold tone, reaching for his sword. ‘Especially a hinin!’

  Hana didn’t back down. ‘Your word … is your bond!’ she spluttered.

  ‘I should kill you right now for your insolence. But I am a man of honour and respect the bushido code,’ he said, letting her go. ‘Our agreement was if the gaijin won, I’d set you free. But unfortunately there was no winner.’

  ‘Then play again,’ she said, shrugging off the guards.

  Daimyo Sanada turned to Jack. ‘As entertaining as the game was, I have business to attend to. Another time perhaps. Yet, in fairness, I will give you the chance to win your freedom.’

  The daimyo asked for Kanesuke’s money pouch. Emptying the coins on to the table, he then picked up two Go stones from the ground and put them in the cloth bag.

  ‘Choose a stone,’ he said, presenting the money pouch to Jack. ‘A white means life. Black is death.’

  Jack contemplated the innocuous bag. Once again the fate of his friends lay in his hands. At least, this time, he had an even chance of saving them.

  ‘I’m not having you decide whether I live or die!’ Hana snapped, grabbing Jack’s hand as he was about to reach in.

  ‘I don’t care who does it,’ said daimyo Sanada impatiently.

  ‘We’ll let janken decide,’ Hana announced, pulling Jack and Ronin aside.

  ‘What’s janken?’ asked Jack, bemused by Hana’s sudden intervention.

  ‘Rock, paper, scissors,’ she replied, rapidly making a fist, an open palm and a V-shape with two fingers. She lowered her voice to a whisper. ‘I saw the daimyo put two black stones into the bag.’

  ‘You can’t accuse him of cheating a second time,’ said Jack. ‘He’d execute us all on the spot.’

  The three of them had a mock game of janken, not even paying attention to the result. They were purely playing for time in a desperate hope one of them would think of a plan.

  ‘He never had any intention of letting us go,’ spat Ronin, glancing round at the circle of heavily armed guards in preparation for a last-stand fight.

  ‘No more time-wasting,’ said daimyo Sanada, shaking the bag. ‘It’s a simple choice. White or Black. Life or Death …’

  ‘Let me do it,’ said Hana to Ronin and Jack.

  ‘What’s the point?’ said Jack. ‘We can’t win!’

  ‘Trust me,’ she insisted, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes.

  Striding over, Hana reached into the bag. A triumphant smirk formed on daimyo Sanada’s lips in expectation of the result.

  Jack and Ronin waited with baited breath. They both knew she couldn’t plant a white stone in the bag. The daimyo would simply accuse them of cheating, since there would be three stones in play. So what was her plan?

  With a flurry, Hana drew out her hand and clumsily dropped the stone before anyone saw its colour.

  ‘Oh, no!’ she cried as it landed among the other Go counters on the floor. ‘Now we don’t know which stone I took out.’

  ‘No matter,’ said daimyo Sanada, his patience worn thin. ‘You’ve lost your chance for freedom.’

  He beckoned the guards.

  ‘Wait!’ said Hana excitedly. ‘We do know which colour stone I picked. Just look in the bag.’

  Jack and Ronin exchanged glances at Hana’s brilliance. She snatched the pouch from the daimyo’s hand and emptied the contents into her palm. A black stone tumbled out.

  ‘See, I picked the white!’ she exclaimed. ‘LIFE!’

  Daimyo Sanada fumed at being outsmarted. The guards faltered, unsure whether to proceed or not.

  ‘Your word is your bond,’ reminded H
ana, smiling sweetly at him.

  41

  A PARTING OF WAYS

  ‘I can’t believe he let us go,’ said Jack as they fled the outskirts of Nara and entered the lower slopes of a mountain forest.

  A light rain was falling, but even this couldn’t dampen their spirits. The daimyo, incensed as he was, had remained true to his word, even to the point of returning their swords and handing over the inro.

  ‘He won’t let us get far,’ said Ronin, supping on a fresh bottle of saké. Hana had been sly enough to slip a couple of Kanesuke’s coins into her kimono sleeve and they’d stopped briefly for supplies. ‘But at least we have a chance of escape. Thanks to Hana.’

  Ronin clamped a hand on her shoulder, squeezing it with affection. ‘How did you ever think to outwit the daimyo like that?’

  Hana lowered her eyes bashfully. ‘I’ve done a few confidence tricks in my time. It just takes one to know one.’

  Laughing, Ronin pulled her close. ‘I take back what I said about you, Hana. You may be a thief, but you’re more courageous and loyal than many samurai I’ve known.’

  Hana beamed at such praise. Seeing them together, almost like father and daughter, Jack realized they were good for one another – perhaps even needed each other. It was certainly the first time Ronin’s eyes had been filled with something other than regret.

  As they came upon a crossroads, Ronin’s expression turned serious once again. ‘This is our parting of ways,’ he announced.

  Hana’s jaw dropped, all her joy extinguished in an instant. ‘B-b-but why?’

  ‘There’s a warrant out for our arrest. As a group, we’re too easily spotted.’

  Jack knew Ronin’s decision made good sense. With the Shogun’s samurai, Kazuki and his Scorpion Gang, and now daimyo Sanada’s men after them, they had little hope of avoiding capture. Individually, at least, Ronin and Hana could blend in and disappear.

  ‘But where would I go?’ said Hana, highly distressed at the impending split. ‘I like being with you both.’

  Seeing her in such a state, Jack knew Hana would more than likely wander straight into one of the search parties.

  ‘Couldn’t she go with you, Ronin?’ Jack suggested tentatively.

  ‘Yes!’ Hana exclaimed, seizing the possibility. ‘Ronin, you could be my teacher and I could cook for you and …’

  Ronin shook his head firmly, but couldn’t bring himself to look at her. He was clearly finding this as hard as she was.

  ‘I attract trouble,’ he said, glancing darkly at his saké bottle. ‘That’s no place for a girl to be.’

  Hana grabbed hold of Ronin’s sleeve. ‘Please. You won’t even notice me.’

  ‘No!’ said Ronin, snatching his arm away.

  Tears welled in Hana’s eyes, the rejection hurting more than the idea of separation.

  Jack couldn’t risk Hana accompanying him to Nagasaki either. He was even more of a target than Ronin. But he had another idea. And it solved a problem that had been burdening his heart since Kyoto.

  ‘Hana, I need you to go east … to Toba.’

  ‘Another quest?’ she replied, brightening slightly.

  ‘Yes, an extremely important one,’ he urged. ‘You must warn Akiko that Kazuki is looking for her and wants revenge.’ He handed her the inro. ‘Show this to Akiko and she’ll know you’re my friend. She’ll look after you.’

  ‘Come with me!’ Hana implored.

  ‘I can’t. I’d lead the Scorpion Gang right to her,’ Jack explained. ‘I’ll be going in the opposite direction and intend to leave a trail, ensuring that I get spotted so as to draw them away from Toba. Will you do this for me?’

  Hana grasped the inro in both hands and nodded with determination.

  ‘Thank you,’ said Jack, relieved there was now a possibility Akiko would be forewarned.

  They shared out their provisions and Jack and Ronin watched Hana stride up the path, waving one last time before she disappeared over the rise.

  ‘She’s a brave soul,’ said Ronin. ‘I’ll miss her.’

  ‘Even her talking?’ said Jack, surprised to hear such an admission from the samurai.

  ‘Even that,’ admitted Ronin. He turned to Jack. ‘I’m sorry we couldn’t find your rutter.’

  ‘We tried,’ Jack replied, putting on a brave face. ‘But I agree, it’d be suicidal to continue our hunt for Botan under the circumstances.’

  He knew it was time to face the hard truth. As devastating as it was – the rutter was lost. What you want is sacrificed, the Riddling Monk had said. This must be the sacrifice he was talking about. After all the effort, hardship and risks, Jack had to forgo his last connection to his father, his guarantee of a future and break his promise never to let the logbook fall into the wrong hands.

  ‘Don’t you worry, I’ll keep an eye out for that rogue … and the rutter.’

  ‘You’ve done more than enough,’ insisted Jack. ‘Please don’t risk your life any further.’

  ‘I don’t have much of a life left to risk,’ said Ronin, holding up his bottle. ‘But it was an honour to help you, young samurai.’

  He bowed and headed north towards Kyoto.

  ‘Wait!’ said Jack. ‘I owe you for your services.’

  ‘You owe me nothing.’

  ‘But I do,’ insisted Jack, running after him. ‘It’s a matter of honour. We agreed, you could choose one item from whatever we recovered.’

  ‘But I couldn’t take your swords.’

  ‘Then … have the pearl,’ offered Jack, opening up his kimono to pull out the gold hairpin. He hated to sacrifice the black pearl, but Akiko would have wanted him to stand by their agreement. It was the right thing to do.

  ‘How touching!’ said a voice thick with sarcasm.

  Jack and Ronin spun round. A samurai in a dark brown kimono grinned at the confused expressions on both Jack and Ronin’s faces. Barrel-chested, with arms like knotted ropes, he looked a formidable and experienced warrior. His rugged handsome face was framed by a neatly trimmed goatee and moustache. But his nose was flattened, certainly as a result of being broken in a fight, and a battle scar marked his chin.

  ‘Ronin! I never thought I’d see you again,’ said the man, opening his arms in a friendly gesture.

  Ronin stared at him, bemused and wary. His hand went to his sword.

  ‘I feel hurt that you don’t remember me.’

  Ronin squinted and studied the man’s features more intently. ‘My memory’s hazy. Remind me.’

  ‘You were quite drunk at the time. In fact, I’m surprised you haven’t climbed all the way into that bottle by now.’

  ‘Who are you?’ demanded Ronin.

  ‘Botan, of course.’

  Jack and Ronin simultaneously drew their swords, stunned their quarry had found them.

  ‘Why would you want to attack an old friend?’ said Botan, showing no concern at their hostility.

  ‘I’m no friend of yours,’ Ronin replied. ‘Where’s the rutter you stole?’

  Botan laughed. ‘I was about to ask you that very same question!’

  ‘What do you mean?’ said Ronin, frowning.

  ‘Come now, you must remember. Kanesuke was most insistent that I find this book called a rutter. Now, my friend, please tell me where it is.’

  Jack was as perplexed as Ronin by this line of questioning. ‘We were seeking you because you had it.’

  ‘I wasn’t speaking to you, gaijin,’ snarled Botan. ‘You’re supposed to be dead.’

  He turned back to Ronin, all smiles and pleasantry. ‘I must admit I was surprised to discover you were accompanying the gaijin. Especially as you helped rob him in the first place!’

  Both Ronin and Jack’s look of acute shock sent Botan into convulsions of deep booming laughter.

  ‘You liar!’ said Ronin, but a shadow of doubt passed across his face nonetheless.

  Jack caught it and stared at his friend in disbelief. Had Ronin really attacked him before they met at the tea house in Yama
shiro? Was their whole friendship based on a deception?

  He looked first to Ronin, then to Botan, searching for the truth.

  ‘I can’t believe neither of you remember,’ exclaimed Botan, shaking his head in amusement.

  Suddenly the man’s laughter was all too recognizable. The scar. The broken nose. And the odour of excess saké originating from Ronin became disturbingly familiar too.

  Like the clearing of a sea mist, a memory emerged from the recesses of Jack’s mind …

  42

  DRUGGED

  ‘Allow me to buy you a drink,’ slurred the drunken samurai, sitting down uninvited at Jack’s table in front of the village inn, set beside the mountain road.

  ‘That’s kind of you, but my vows don’t allow it.’ Jack was disguised in the blue robes of a komusō, a Monk of Emptiness, and wore their trademark wicker basket over his head so as to be unrecognizable as a foreigner. And he wished to keep it that way by avoiding company, especially any samurai.

  ‘I insist.’ The drunk waved the innkeeper over. ‘A saké for me and for my friend a …’

  ‘Sencha,’ said Jack, realizing a refusal might draw an angry reaction from the samurai and he didn’t wish to attract any more attention. There was a group of three samurai on another table, chatting and joking. One in particular – a muscular man with a scar on his chin and a deep booming laugh – had been glancing over at him since his arrival and Jack didn’t fancy his chances if he was forced to fight his way out.

  The innkeeper scurried off with their order.

  ‘I’m Ronin by the way … and you are?’

  ‘Takeshi,’ replied Jack, using his guardian Masamoto’s first name.

  ‘Pleased to meet you,’ said Ronin, his head lolling in an attempt at a formal bow. He reached out and prodded Jack’s hat. ‘Why do you wear these funny baskets?’