by Unknown
Jack had spent many happy hours beneath this sakura tree. At first recovering from the broken arm he’d sustained escaping the ninja attack on the Alexandria; then studying his father’s rutter; and, most enjoyable of all, being instructed by Akiko in her language and customs. Sitting there now, it was like finding sanctuary again.
But it wasn’t like returning home.
England was his home. Though after nearly four years, two of which had been at sea, it had become a distant memory. The only things tying him to his native land were his heart, his little sister Jess, his father’s rutter – now stolen – and a scrap of paper he’d found tucked within it.
Jack opened the inro carrying case attached to his obi and carefully took out the fragile paper. It was a drawing given to his father by Jess before they’d left for the Japans. As had become habit, his fingers traced the outlines of his dead father, his sister in her summer smock holding hands with his own stick-thin body, and lastly his mother with her angel wings. Wiping a tear from his eye, Jack said a little prayer for Jess. Having only an old, ailing neighbour to rely on for his sister’s welfare, he feared for her future without a family. Jack had to find his way back to England.
Yet he was trapped by circumstance. Adopted by Masamoto, his guardian considered himself responsible for Jack’s care until he was sixteen and deemed ‘of age’. Besides, any journey to the southern port of Nagasaki, where foreign trading ships docked, was fraught with danger now that daimyo Kamakura, the lord of Edo Province, had begun to rouse the population against Christians and foreigners.
Not only that, Jack had to contend with the constant threat to his life posed by Dragon Eye. He couldn’t leave Japan without his father’s rutter. It was rightfully his and the key to his future. He had to retrieve the logbook before the code was broken. The hunter had now become the hunted. He had to find Dragon Eye.
Dokugan Ryu’s eyeless mother had laughed at the suggestion of seeking out her ninja son. Dragon Eye was like the wind, she said, and moved with the seasons, never settling in the same place twice. Despite the offer of another coin, she refused to reveal his location. Yamato very much doubted she knew it anyway. He believed she was making the whole story up and they’d wasted their money on worthless lies.
‘Nice picture,’ Yamato commented, rounding the trunk of the sakura, fresh from his bath. ‘That the one Akiko rescued from the tree?’
‘Yes, it is,’ mumbled Jack, startled by his friend’s sudden appearance.
He’d been so deep in thought that he hadn’t noticed Yamato’s approach. Jack carefully folded the parchment and slipped it back inside his inro. He was far more guarded with it ever since Kazuki, his arch-rival at school, had snatched the picture from his hands and thrown it into the topmost branches of a maple tree. Thankfully, Akiko had retrieved it for him, with an astounding display of agility.
‘I’ve been thinking we should keep our training up, just in case my father decides to allow us back to school,’ suggested Yamato.
Jack looked up in surprise. Clearly, the bath had not only cleansed his friend’s body but his mind too. It was the most positive thing Yamato had uttered in ages. He knew his friend feared his father. Masamoto was a hard man to please since the death of his firstborn son, Tenno, and Yamato was desperate for his approval.
Perhaps there was some hope for Yamato and Akiko of going back to the Niten Ichi Ryū, but Jack doubted he would ever be allowed to return.
‘It’ll be like old times. Remember when we used to spar with our bokken over there?’ said Yamato merrily, indicating a bare patch of training ground at the back of the house.
Jack nodded.
‘And he used to thrash you!’ cried a small voice.
Jack turned round to see a young boy thundering full pelt across the wooden bridge towards them.
‘Jiro!’ exclaimed Jack as the boy ran into his arms.
Apart from Akiko, Jiro – her brother – had been Jack’s only companion in those early months following his arrival. Back then, he and Yamato hadn’t been friends. Jiro was quite right. Their sparring sessions had been more an excuse for Yamato to beat him up. Yamato’s harsh instruction, though, had helped Jack learn the basics of sword fighting and this had led him to be invited by Masamoto to train at the Niten Ichi Ryū, the One School of Two Heavens.
‘You’ve grown,’ observed Jack, measuring up the grinning brown-eyed boy.
‘Big enough to carry a sword now!’ Jiro replied in a defiant tone.
‘Is that right?’ said Jack, raising his eyebrows at Yamato. ‘Think you’re big enough to challenge me, do you?’
‘No problem,’ said Jiro, resting his fists upon his hips.
‘A duel!’ exclaimed Yamato in mock horror. ‘There’s no escape for you, Jack. I’ll be the judge. Jiro, get your bokken.’
Thrilled at the prospect, Jiro sprinted off to get his wooden sword. It reminded Jack of his own excitement when he’d first trained in the Way of the Warrior. But the opportunity to become a samurai had given Jack more than just a thrill. It had given him hope. For with such fighting skills at his disposal, Jack had a chance of survival. Maybe even of defeating Dragon Eye.
‘Yamato,’ he asked, while they waited for Jiro to return, ‘why were you so convinced the old woman in the Dragon Temple was lying? Isn’t there a chance Hattori Tatsuo could have survived to become Dokugan Ryu?’
Yamato rolled his eyes, clearly exasperated that Jack was still pursuing the idea after three days. ‘That hag was crazy. She was playing a sick joke on you. Tatsuo died in the Nakasendo War ten years ago.’
‘How do you know that for sure?’
‘I know because my father was daimyo Takatomi’s personal bodyguard at the time. My father saw Tatsuo’s beheading with his own eyes.’
Jack was momentarily stunned into silence. Before he could ask more, though, Jiro came charging out of the house, wielding his bokken. He fought his way in mock combat across the garden. Jack couldn’t believe the old woman had made everything up. There had to be a grain of truth in her story. But maybe she was as convinced in her tale as Jiro was in battling his imaginary ninja.
7
THE PEARL
‘Hurry up, Jack!’ urged Akiko. ‘The sun’s about to rise.’
Akiko trotted ahead on her white stallion, the same one Jack had seen her with the morning after the Alexandria had been shipwrecked off the coast of Japan. It had been dawn and she’d been praying at a temple overlooking the cove where their ship lay. Jack had spotted the horse before being transfixed by the sight of a dark-haired girl, her skin white as snow. Akiko had been his first impression of Japan.
‘The darned thing won’t obey me,’ complained Jack, struggling to stay mounted on his smaller brown mare. ‘Give me a ship any time!’
He bounced along the coastal path behind her, gripping tighter to the mane and desperately trying to match the horse’s rhythm. Having been a sailor, Jack had never learnt to ride. The closest experience he’d had was riding the bucking yardarm of the Alexandria in a storm.
‘You managed to ride all the way from Kyoto to Toba,’ noted Akiko.
‘Yes, but I rode with Kuma-san on his horse. And look what happened! We got thrown, he dislocated his shoulder and I bruised my backside!’
Akiko laughed at Jack’s pained expression as he continued to jolt along. ‘Don’t worry, we’re nearly there.’
They rounded a small headland and Akiko dismounted. She hurried over to Jack and helped him down.
They’d been in Toba over a month now and, thanks to a good dose of motherly care and attention, Akiko had fully recovered from her poisoning. Though their return hadn’t been a matter of choice, she clearly relished being back at home and spending time with her mother and brother. In the half-light, Jack could see her face was aglow, her jet-black eyes sparkling with a newfound energy.
Jack couldn’t quite say the same for himself. It was still far too early in the day. Somehow Akiko had managed to persuade him to rise be
fore dawn and join her to watch the sunrise at Meoto Iwa, a headland a little round the coast from Toba. Yamato had sensibly decided to have a lie-in and said he would join them later for sword practice.
Jack followed Akiko down to the rocky shoreline. She seated herself upon a flat rock, crossing her legs in the lotus position in readiness for the sunrise.
Jack breathed in the salty air, the smell instantly evoking memories of his ocean-going days. He itched to be out at sea again, to feel the roll of the deck beneath his feet, to hear the snap of the sails as the wind took hold and to steer a course for home. He looked up into the lightening sky and spotted the northern star still burning in the heavens.
‘What are you doing?’ asked Akiko, as Jack began to turn on the spot and scan the horizon.
Jack pointed into the distance. ‘That way lies England.’
Seeing the longing in his blue eyes, she smiled sadly at him.
‘You’ll get there one day,’ she said, indicating for him to sit beside her, ‘but, until then, you should enjoy the moments you have here.’
Jack looked down at Akiko. Perhaps she was right. He was so intent on returning home, he often overlooked the good things about Japan. From the calm order of samurai life to the thrill of wielding a sword, from the exquisite taste of sushi to the beauty of the cherry blossom, Japan offered so much more than England could ever give him. And if he did leave for home, he’d miss all his friends greatly – Yamato, Yori, Saburo and, of course, Akiko.
Returning her smile, he sat down next to her and waited for the sun.
‘Here it comes,’ Akiko whispered, taking a deep breath as golden rays of light fanned out across the horizon.
Out at sea, the morning sun rose between two rocky outcrops. Pitch-black against the crimson sky, their peaks were joined by a huge knotted rope, and upon the larger of the two stacks perched a miniature torii gateway.
‘What are those?’ asked Jack, awestruck at the sight.
‘They’re the Meoto Iwa,’ replied Akiko. ‘The sacred Wedded Rocks. Beautiful, aren’t they? And over there is Mount Fuji.’
Jack looked to his left and could just see a conical snow-capped peak in the haze on the horizon. He could only imagine how big the mountain was for it to be visible at such a great distance. From here, though, he could cover it with his entire hand.
After the sun had risen and they had completed their meditation, Akiko paid her respects at the nearby Shinto shrine. When Jack had first attended the Niten Ichi Ryū, he hadn’t been able to understand the dual religious practices of the Japanese. They followed Buddhism and, at the same time, Shinto, the worship of kami, the spirits they believed were contained within everything living and non-living.
Back in England, Jack had been brought up as a Christian, following the Protestant not the Catholic belief system. His father had explained this was the reason Europe was involved in so many conflicts. The division in faith had set Catholic Spain and Portugal against Protestant England. Since the battle for dominance was also being fought at sea and in the New World, this meant the rutter had immense significance. The possession of such an accurate navigational logbook, like his father’s, could tip the balance of power in favour of one country and its religion over the other.
Yet, in Japan, two religions coexisted in perfect harmony.
It was Buddhism’s respectful acceptance of other faiths that had allowed Jack to come to terms with practising Buddhist rituals in samurai school, while remaining at heart a Christian.
His decision was also a matter of survival. With the growing animosity towards foreigners in Japan, Jack needed to blend in as much as possible and show his willingness to accept Japanese beliefs. He needed to prove he was samurai not only in mind and body, but in spirit too.
Jack bowed his head before the Shinto shrine and said a prayer for his father and mother in heaven and for his little sister Jess on the other side of the world, his words carried away by the gentle lapping of the waves.
* * *
Walking along the coastal path, Akiko and Jack guided their horses back in the direction of Toba.
‘Thank you,’ said Jack, feeling at peace and happy to have shared the moment alone with Akiko.
‘I thought you’d like to see the ocean again,’ she replied, smiling warmly.
Jack nodded. The new dawn had given him fresh perspective and time to think. He would always be a sailor. It was in his blood. But he was now samurai too.
As they climbed a small rise overlooking a crystal-clear cove, Akiko stopped, her hand going to her forehead.
‘Are you all right?’ asked Jack.
‘I’m fine, just a little light-headed,’ she replied. ‘It must be the sea air.’
‘Perhaps you’re not fully recovered. You should sit down,’ suggested Jack, tying the horses to a nearby tree, then settling beside her at the edge of the cliff.
‘It’s amazing you survived the poisoning in the first place,’ Jack commented, recalling how Akiko had almost been killed by the ninja that Dragon Eye had sent to assassinate him, while he stole the rutter. The ninja had favoured a poisoned hairpin as a weapon. Akiko had been struck in the neck and she’d collapsed unconscious. By all accounts, she should have died.
This was just one of a number of unexplained skills and mysteries about Akiko. Like how she’d climbed the maple tree with such grace and agility to retrieve Jack’s drawing, or how she’d survived for so long beneath the waterfall during the Circle of Three. Perhaps now was the time to ask such questions.
‘When you were sick, I overheard Sensei Yamada and Sensei Kano mentioning dokujutsu, the ninja art of poison. They thought someone might have trained you to resist such poisons and that’s why you survived?’
Akiko picked up a small pebble and threw it over the edge, watching it tumble through the air and into the sea.
‘It wasn’t anything as mysterious as that,’ she dismissed. ‘I’ve always been lucky that way. Do you remember when you first met me I used to dive with the ama people searching for pearls? Well, I’ve been stung by jellyfish so many times I lost count. Once I was even bitten by a blowfish, and they’re deadly. I was ill for a number of days after, but I recovered. I’ve just got a high tolerance to things like that.’
That seemed logical to Jack, but it didn’t explain her other mysteries. ‘So what about…’
But Akiko rose to her feet and began to undo her obi. Jack gawped in astonishment. A Japanese lady would never remove her obi in public. Then again, Akiko was not a typical Japanese girl. Being of samurai class, she shouldn’t have associated with the ama divers in the first place. It was considered beneath her status. But, as Akiko had once explained to Jack, she loved the freedom of the ocean. It was the only place she could escape the rigid confines of Japanese life.
‘Talking of the ama, I really need a swim,’ announced Akiko.
She noticed Jack staring.
‘No peeking,’ she laughed, indicating for Jack to turn round, before handing him the outer layer of her kimono. Securing her undergarments tightly round her, she dived off the cliff and into the cove.
Jack rushed to the edge, but could only see the white ripples of water where she’d entered the ocean. He caught sight of a shadow swimming deep within the bay and, if Jack hadn’t known better, he would have sworn it was a mermaid.
After a while, though, Akiko hadn’t surfaced and he began to worry, fearing that something had happened to her. Then, just like a seal pup, her head popped up on the other side of the cove. She swam over to the inlet beach and beckoned Jack to join her. Jack untied the horses and led them down the path towards her.
By the time he got to the beach, she was almost dry and Jack passed her the kimono. Back turned, he waited patiently for her to get changed.
‘You may look now.’
Jack found Akiko holding out her hand. In her palm was a large, closed oval-shaped shell.
‘It’s an oyster. I spotted it under a rock at the bottom of the cove,’ she e
xplained, placing it in his hand. ‘Go on, see if there’s a pearl inside!’
Jack took the gnarled shell and, using the ninja’s tantō he carried, prised the shell apart. The knife slipped as it broke the seal and he pricked his finger on the blade again. Jack quickly sheathed the weapon before the cursed tantō did any more damage.
Akiko gave a small gasp as Jack opened up the oyster. Inside was a black shiny pearl, the colour of Akiko’s eyes.
‘That’s a rare find,’ she breathed. ‘It must be one of the most perfect black pearls I’ve ever seen.’
Jack passed it back to Akiko.
‘No,’ she said, closing his palm round the precious pearl. ‘It’s my gift to you.’
Jack wanted to thank her, but for a moment words failed him.
‘There you are!’ cried the samurai guard Taka-san, riding down the beach on his horse. ‘You’re summoned back home immediately. Masamoto-sama’s on his way.’
8
BUSHIDO
‘A disgraced samurai must commit seppuku!’ Masamoto thundered, delivering his judgement upon Jack.
He sat upon a raised dais in the reception room of Hiroko’s house, his face fuming like a volcano. Even after two months, his anger at his adopted son still raged, the scarring that ran down the left-hand side of his face was inflamed and his amber eyes burnt fiercely.
Jack looked fearfully at his guardian. He’d once been told by Akiko what seppuku was, but his terror at Masamoto’s anger had wiped it clean from his mind. All he knew was that it wasn’t good. Jack glanced over to Akiko for an explanation, but she remained bowing, face down to the floor, just as Yamato was.
‘Seppuku is ritualized suicide,’ stated Masamoto, noting Jack’s bewilderment. ‘In the Way of the Warrior, it’s considered an act of bravery for a samurai who knows he’s defeated, or disgraced, to take his own life. The deed wipes away all transgressions and the samurai’s reputation remains intact.’