‘Of course! What better time for a ninja to enter a castle?’ said Jack.
‘But why would he want to?’ questioned Kiku.
‘Who knows,’ said Jack, shrugging, ‘but you can bet it’s not to see the fireworks. Come on! Let’s find out what he’s up to and stop him.’
‘But he’s a ninja!’ exclaimed Saburo.
‘And we’re samurai!’
Jack sprinted across the thoroughfare to the gangway. After a moment’s hesitation, the rest of them joined him, with Saburo trailing reluctantly behind.
‘Saburo, you’d better stand guard with Yori,’ suggested Jack, to Saburo’s evident relief.
The remaining four then cautiously made their way across the narrow wooden bridge to the gate.
‘Do you think it’ll be open?’ queried Akiko. ‘What if he went over the wall?’
‘Only one way to find out,’ said Jack, and he pushed on the heavy wooden door.
It swung open without resistance.
Jack peered into the inky blackness. He couldn’t see a thing. Taking a deep breath, steeling himself for an ambush, he swiftly slipped inside.
Before he had gone two paces, he tripped and fell face down on a hard stone floor.
‘Jack, are you all right?’ asked Akiko, alarmed at his muffled grunt of pain.
‘Yes, fine,’ he whispered back. ‘You can come in. I fell over the guard, that’s all. He’s dead.’
The others found him kneeling over the dead body of a samurai.
‘There’s another one behind the door,’ said Jack.
Kiku let out a stifled yelp as she caught sight of the body of the second samurai, headless.
‘It looks like he was killed with his own sword,’ said Yamato, as Akiko drew Kiku to her.
‘Kiku, go back to the others,’ ordered Akiko in a sharp whisper. ‘Raise the alarm with Masamoto and tell him what is happening,’
She nodded mutely before skirting the decapitated samurai to slip out of the door, then ran off towards the Imperial Palace.
‘What now?’ asked Yamato.
‘We find him and we stop him!’ said Jack with ominous finality.
He began to scan the open courtyard for movement.
‘Or we find a guard that’s still alive who can raise the alarm,’ added Akiko, concerned at Jack’s intentions.
‘Too late for that,’ said Jack, pointing to a black shadow barely visible by the battlements. ‘There he is! Next to that wall, on the far side of the courtyard.’
Looking around, Jack spotted the katana of the headless samurai on the floor. Snatching up the bloodied sword, he ran off in the direction of Dragon Eye, leaving Yamato and Akiko staring after him.
‘This is insane!’ said Akiko, ‘He’s going to get himself killed.’
‘Not if I can help it,’ said Yamato, hunting the darkness for the other samurai’s katana.
‘But neither of you have ever used a real sword before!’
‘It doesn’t matter. Once you’ve mastered the bokken, I’m sure it can’t be too hard to wield a katana. Ah, found it,’ said Yamato, discovering the second sword discarded behind the guardhouse. ‘Come on! Jack’s already on the other side.’
‘Perfect! Leave me with the short sword, why don’t you?’ muttered Akiko, unsheathing a wakizashi from the nearest dead samurai, before hurrying after the receding figure of Yamato.
By now, Jack was under the lee of the castle wall and could see Dragon Eye ahead, hiding in the shadows. He was making for the five buildings that formed the central complex of the castle. Jack presumed by their highly decorative design that this was Takatomi’s Palace.
Dragon Eye had not seen Jack yet for he was too occupied with scouting ahead.
This was Jack’s chance.
Jack shifted the katana in his hands, adjusting his grip. The sword felt far weightier than his bokken and he knew he’d have to be careful not to let the kissaki drop and leave himself exposed.
Jack edged closer, Dragon Eye still oblivious to his approach.
As he crept to within ten paces of the ninja, all the pent-up anger and pain Jack felt at his father’s death welled up like molten rock and exploded within him.
Now was the time! Dokugan Ryu would finally pay for his father’s death!
But Jack hesitated.
He couldn’t do it.
‘Never hesitate,’ hissed Dokugan Ryu, his back still turned.
Dragon Eye spun on the spot and a silver shuriken glinted in the darkness.
‘Watch out!’ screamed Yamato, throwing himself in front of Jack.
The shuriken hit Yamato, embedding itself in his chest. He fell to the floor, blood gushing over the stone courtyard.
Jack saw red, his fury boiling over. Screaming at the top of his lungs, he charged Dragon Eye, his sword held high, and brought it down with all his might at his sworn enemy.
Dragon Eye pulled his ninjatō from the saya strapped to his back, smoothly deflecting Jack’s blade at the same time. He then countered, slicing across Jack’s midriff.
Jack predicted the move and blocked it. Immediately, he pressed forward with his own attack, cutting up at Dragon Eye’s face. But the ninja flipped backwards to avoid the rising blade. As he flew through the air, Dragon Eye kicked out and his foot caught Jack’s hands, dislodging the katana. Dragon Eye landed on his feet just as Jack’s sword clattered to the ground, leaving him unarmed and defenceless.
‘You’ve improved, young samurai, for a gaijin!’ he said with genuine respect. ‘One day, you might actually be worth fighting. But you’re not my mission today, so go home like a good boy!’
‘I don’t have a home. You killed my father. Remember?’ said Jack, outraged. ‘Was my father a mission too?’
‘Your father was nothing. The rutter was my mission!’
Jack stared in disbelief at the ninja. ‘Who’s ordering these missions?’
‘You won’t give up, will you?’ hissed Dragon Eye in irritation. ‘Let’s hope you still live without your sword arm!’
Dragon Eye raised his ninjatō and brought it down to sever Jack’s right arm.
Out of the night like a shooting star, Akiko’s wakizashi spun through the air towards Dokugan Ryu. At the last second, the ninja twisted on instinct, the arc of his sword shifting and missing Jack’s shoulder by a hair’s breadth. The wakizashi pierced Dragon Eye’s side and, though the blade cut deep, he barely made a sound. Staggering slightly, the ninja glanced absently at the weapon protruding from him.
‘Who did you learn that from? Masamoto?’ he spat in disgust at Akiko as she appeared by Jack’s side.
The ninja carefully removed the bloody blade, glaring at them in defiance. He then flipped the short sword over in his hand and was about to throw it back at the now defenceless Akiko, when the main gate burst open and Masamoto and his samurai dashed into the courtyard bearing flaming torches.
‘Spread out!’ ordered Masamoto. ‘Find them, and kill the ninja!’
‘Another time, gaijin!’ hissed Dragon Eye. ‘The rutter is not forgotten.’
The ninja dropped the wakizashi, and scaled the castle wall like a malevolent four-legged spider, disappearing into the night.
In the distance, fireworks exploded and brightly coloured sparks reigned down like a meteor shower in the night sky.
43
KENDO – THE WAY OF THE SWORD
‘We believe Dokugan Ryu was sent to poison daimyo Takatomi,’ explained Masamoto the following night in the Hō-oh-no-ma, the Hall of the Phoenix.
He sat upon his dais, framed by the magnificent flaming phoenix. Sensei Kyuzo and Sensei Yosa on his left, Sensei Hosokawa and Sensei Yamada to his right.
Jack knelt between Akiko and the bandaged Yamato on the lower floor. Yamato had been extremely fortunate. The shuriken had not been poisoned and, while he had suffered a deep chest wound, he would recover.
‘But who sent him?’ asked Jack.
Masamoto sipped from a cup of sencha then gazed pensi
vely at it.
‘That we don’t know. It may be a sign of things to come,’ he replied gravely. ‘So daimyo Takatomi has increased his personal guard and has ordered new security measures to be installed in his castle. He sends his apologies for not being here tonight. He has been called away to Edo. But he is most appreciative of all your efforts in stopping the ninja. He wanted me to give you these as a token of his esteem.’
A maid entered bearing three boxes and placed one in front of each of the young samurai. Jack examined his. It was a small rectangular box made of thickly lacquered wood. The surface was exquisitely decorated in gold and silver leaf, and he could make out a finely engraved sakura tree within the design, its blossom picked out in ivory. Attached to the top of the box by a hemp cord was a small ivory toggle carved into the shape of a lion’s head. He looked enquiringly over at the others.
They too had received similar gifts, but the boxes bore different designs and Yamato’s had a monkey-shaped toggle, while Akiko’s was carved into a miniature eagle.
‘They are called inro, Jack-kun,’ explained Masamoto, seeing Jack’s puzzled expression. ‘They’re used for carrying things, such as medicines, money, pens and ink. That small ivory lion’s head is called a netsuke. You slip it through your obi and it will secure the inro to you.’
Jack picked up the beautifully crafted inro and ivory netsuke. He had always wondered what the Japanese had done without pockets in their kimono. The inro consisted of a stack of tiny boxes that fitted snugly one on top of the other. He passed the lion’s head netsuke through his obi and secured the inro to his belt.
‘Takatomi-sama has also extended his funding of the Niten Ichi Ryū indefinitely,’ continued Masamoto, ‘and has bestowed upon the school a new training hall. It is to be called Taka-no-ma, the Hall of the Hawk. For that, I myself am indebted to you. You have once again brought great honour upon this school. In recognition of your service, I wish to present you with these gifts.’
Three servants entered, each carrying a large, lacquered box, which they placed upon the dais.
‘Yamato-kun, you have proven yourself to be a true Masamoto. This time with your own blood. I am proud to call you my son. As a mark of my respect for you, please come forward and accept this daishō.’
Bowing stiffly, Yamato knelt before Masamoto, his injury preventing him from the full respectful bow expected. Masamoto opened the first box and withdrew its contents.
‘You may recognize this daishō, Yamato-kun. They were Tenno’s. It is time you wore them, for you have proven yourself worthy beyond a doubt.’
With his two hands outstretched, grimacing against the pain, Yamato accepted the katana and the shorter wakizashi sword. The two weapons together made up the daishō, and were a symbol of the social power and personal honour of a samurai. To be bestowed a daishō was an immense privilege.
For a moment, Yamato could only gaze at them, their black lacquered sayas hinting at the gleaming blades within. Yamato then resumed his place alongside Jack and Akiko. Jack couldn’t help but notice that Yamato’s eyes shone with immense pride.
‘Akiko-chan, please kneel before Sensei Yosa. For it is she who wishes to present your gift.’
Akiko got up and bowed deeply before Sensei Yosa.
‘Akiko-chan, you have the eye of a hawk and the grace of an eagle,’ said Sensei Yosa, drawing her box nearer and tenderly removing several items. ‘You deserve to carry my bow and arrows. Please accept these as a recognition of your fine skills as a kyudoka.’
Akiko was almost too astounded to show her respect. She took Sensei Yosa’s tall bamboo bow and quiver of hawk feather arrows with trembling hands.
‘My bow has much to impart to you, Akiko-chan. As you know, a bow holds within it part of the spirit of the person who made it. My bow is now yours and I hope it will protect you as it has protected me.’
‘Arigatō gozaimashita, Sensei,’ breathed Akiko, holding the bow and arrows with utmost reverence, and returned to her place.
‘Lastly, we come to you, Jack-kun,’ said Masamoto magnanimously. ‘Who would have thought that the drowned wreck of a gaijin boy would amount to so much? Your father, if he had survived, would surely be proud of you this day.’
Jack’s eyes suddenly felt hot with tears. The unexpected reference to his father was almost too much and he had to bite down hard on his lip to stop himself from crying.
‘You have saved Yamato-kun’s life,’ continued Masamoto. ‘Twice, if I am not mistaken. You have learnt our language and honoured our customs. And you have defeated Dokugan Ryu’s murderous intent, not once, but three times. If my daimyo had an army of boys like you, he could conquer any land in a heartbeat. Come forward.’
Jack knelt and bowed respectfully in front of Masamoto.
All the sensei returned Jack’s bow, Sensei Hosokawa and Sensei Yosa both giving him serious yet approving nods of the head. Sensei Kyuzo offered his typically curt acknowledgement, but Sensei Yamada beamed warmly at Jack.
‘You still have a great deal to learn, Jack-kun,’ continued Masamoto, suddenly serious. ‘You are but a tiny bud. You have only laid the foundation stone. Taken your first step. You still have a long road to travel on the Way of the Warrior, but as I said in the beginning, we are here to help you make that journey. I therefore present to you my first swords.’
By the stunned reactions of the sensei and the inward drawing of breath from both Akiko and Yamato, Jack judged that this was a considerable and unprecedented honour. Masamoto opened the last lacquered box that lay before him and lifted out two formidable swords.
Unlike the Jade Sword, Masamoto’s daishō were not overly decorated. The sayas were pure shafts of black lacquer, the only embellishment an inlay of a small golden phoenix emblazoned near the hilt. This was not a piece of art or a sword for show. It was the weapon of a warrior.
‘Jack-kun, the sword is the soul of the samurai,’ said Masamoto with great import, and presented the daishō to him, his amber eyes fixing Jack with a stern stare.
‘With the possession of such a weapon comes great responsibility,’ instructed Masamoto, not letting go of the swords so that now both he and Jack held them. ‘It must never fall into the hands of your enemy. And you must always uphold the samurai principles of bushido. Rectitude. Courage. Benevolence. Respect. Honesty. Honour. Loyalty. Do you understand?’
‘Hai, Masamoto-sama. Arigatō gozaimashita,’ replied Jack with complete sincerity.
Jack took the swords from Masamoto and immediately felt his hands sink under the weight of their responsibility. He bowed low and returned to his place between Akiko and Yamato, the daishō by his side.
‘Now that we have finished here, I ask you all to kindly leave, except for Yamato-kun. I wish to spend some time with my son. We have much to discuss,’ said Masamoto, a smile brightening the unscarred side of his face.
Everyone bowed and respectfully departed from the Hall of the Phoenix.
Jack and Akiko wandered into the Southern Zen garden to wait for Yamato. They stood between the two standing stones and stared in silence at the night sky together. The moon was bright and gibbous, two days from becoming a full moon, and the stars shone keenly in the heavens.
‘See that star, the brightest one in the sky. That’s Spica,’ said Jack after several moments had passed.
‘Which one?’ enquired Akiko. ‘They all look the same to me.’
‘Start from the handle of the Plough, the constellation above us, then follow the arc to Arcturus and speed on to Spica,’ said Jack, guiding Akiko’s eyes with the tip of his finger. ‘Then the one over to its left we call Regulus and the one next to that, Bellatrix. The twinkling one over here is Jupiter, but that’s not a star, that’s a planet.’
‘How do you know all this?’ asked Akiko, turning to Jack.
‘My father taught me. He said if I was to ever be a pilot like him, I would need to know how to navigate by the stars.’
‘And can you?’
‘Yes. En
ough to guide a ship back to port,’ said Jack, then with a sad longing. ‘Possibly even enough to get home.’
‘You still want to go home?’
Jack returned Akiko’s gaze. The moonlight reflected in her jet-black eyes, sending small shivers down his spine like shooting stars.
Yes, he did still want to go home. He missed England’s green fields in spring, and the cosy warmth of his parents’ fireplace in winter where his father would regale him with tales of daring sea voyages. He longed for the rowdy chaos of London and the noise of street criers, cattle and hammering blacksmiths. His stomach ached for beef, pies and bread thick with butter, as much as his brain cried out to speak English to someone. But most of all he missed his family. Jess was all he had left now. He needed to find her. Make sure she was all right.
Yet, for the very first time, standing next to Akiko under the stars, Jack felt like he could belong in Japan.
‘Wherever it is you may be, it is your friends who make your world,’ his mother had told him when they had moved yet again between Rotterdam and Limehouse due to his father’s work. He was only seven at the time and resented having to move, but now he understood what she meant. Here in Japan, Jack had found friends. True friends. Saburo, Yori, Kiku, Yamato and, most important of all, Akiko.
‘Akiko-chan!’ called a voice.
It was Sensei Yosa.
‘May I have a moment of your time? I need to explain the particular characteristics of your bow.’
‘Hai, Sensei,’ said Akiko, but before going she turned back to Jack. ‘I know you miss your home in England, Jack, but Japan can be your home too.’
Then, with a warm gentle smile, she bowed and walked away down the garden and was gone.
Jack stared up at the night sky, continuing to name each of the stars in his head in an effort to quell his turbulent emotions and stop himself from crying. His hand rested absently upon his new swords and he fingered the hilt.
On an impulse, he withdrew his katana and held it up to the moonlight. Admiring the deep graceful curve of its blade, he turned it in the air, gauging its weight, judging its point of balance. It was too soon for it to become an extension of his arm, like his lighter wooden bokken, but nonetheless he felt confident enough to attempt a few cuts.
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