The Way Of The Dragon (39 page)

His scream faded into sobbing shock.

‘I’ve seen enough death to last a lifetime,’ said Jack, leaving Kazuki pinned to the ground by his armour.

Jack hurried over to Akiko. As he approached, she shakily raised her bow and released her arrow, before collapsing to the ground with the effort.

He heard an anguished cry behind. Kazuki, still pinned, dropped the
wakizashi
he’d been about to throw at Jack. He now stared in horror at the arrow that had gone straight through his sword hand.

Akiko was still breathing, but looked pale and weak.

‘We have to go,’ said Jack, spotting a troop of Red Devils leaving the castle.

Lifting Akiko up on to the horse, he gave a prayer of thanks to Takuan. He needed to ride fast. Faster than he’d ever done before.

As Jack galloped away with the wounded Akiko between his arms, he heard Kazuki screaming.

‘I
will
have my revenge,
gaijin
!’

Jack sat beneath the
sakura
tree, gazing at the ever changing colours of the sky as the sun set red over Toba. In the background he could hear the soothing trickle of the tiny waterfall feeding the stream that wound itself through the garden and into the lily pond. He was surrounded by glorious flowers and shrubs, all lovingly tended and pruned to perfection. The setting was so beautiful, so peaceful, that it was impossible to believe Japan was anywhere but Heaven.

For Jack, the garden was the healing his heart needed. He had to believe that there was still good in this world, still hope in his life. As Yori would say, a peace worth fighting for.

Above his head, buried in the trunk of the tree, was the arrow that had missed Dragon Eye three years before.

It’s to remind us never to lower our guard.

Jack took hold of the shaft and pulled the arrow out.

The shadow that had hunted him was gone.

The assassin that had haunted Masamoto and his family would never return.

Jack snapped the arrow in half.

Such a haven as this was no place for a weapon of war.

An old man with a wispy grey beard tottered over the little bridge towards Jack, his walking stick tapping upon the wooden boards with each step.

‘How is she?’ asked Jack.

‘Akiko’s recovering well,’ replied Sensei Yamada as his gaze fell upon the broken arrow in Jack’s hands. ‘It’ll take more than a single arrow to defeat that young samurai.’

His Zen master looked older and more worn by life than Jack had ever remembered. The fighting had taken its toll on him and the horrors of battle seemed etched into every wrinkle on his face. Sensei Yamada groaned in pain as he eased himself on to the stone bench beside the stream.

‘Are you all right?’ Jack asked.

‘The only thing that will kill me is time,’ he replied wryly, rubbing his knees with a bony hand. ‘The question is, are
you
all right?’

‘I’ve survived,’ said Jack, without enthusiasm. ‘I know I should be thankful. So many of us didn’t make it. But I feel… empty inside. Guilty too. Guilty that Yamato, my friends and our sensei died for my sake. And for what?
Daimyo
Kamakura won. What hope is there for a
gaijin
samurai in Japan now?’

‘When it is dark enough, you can see the stars,’ said Sensei Yamada, looking up into the sky.

Jack shook his head in bewilderment. Here he was admitting his pain, guilt and worry, while Sensei Yamada was stargazing.

‘There’s always hope, even in the worst of times,’ said his Zen master, by way of explanation. ‘Yes, we have lost some dear friends. But we must remember that many survived too,
because
of their sacrifice. Sensei Kano led our young samurai to safety. Sensei Yosa was spared by the enemy, out of respect to Sensei Hosokawa’s loyalty and courage in defending her. I’ve had no word of Sensei Kyuzo’s fate, but he’s a wily old goat. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s still alive.’

‘But what about Masamoto-sama?’ asked Jack, hoping against hope.

Sensei Yamado smiled. ‘I have good news.’

His smile waned. ‘And some bad.’

Jack held his breath.

‘
Daimyo
Kamakura didn’t kill Masamoto-sama. But neither did he allow him to commit
seppuku
and die with honour.’

‘So where is he?’

‘To subdue such a legendary swordsman was a matter of great pride for
daimyo
Kamakura. Masamoto-sama has been banished to a Buddhist temple at the peak of Mount Iawo. He’s to remain there for the rest of his life.’

‘Can’t we rescue him?’

Sensei Yamada shook his head. ‘I understand he has gone there of his own choosing. He was offered a post serving
daimyo
Kamakura himself, but he refused to take it in deference to those who died. Masamoto-sama would never serve such a tyrannical master.’

Jack was relieved and at the same time saddened by the news. His guardian was alive, but it seemed a shameful end for such a great and noble warrior.

‘He’ll be fine, Jack-kun,’ said Sensei Yamada, seeing the disappointment in Jack’s eyes. ‘Masamoto-sama had often said he intended to live out his final years in contemplation. It’s always been his intention to write down the techniques of the Two Heavens for future generations of swordsmen. This may be just the opportunity he was looking for.’

Jack laughed. It was so like his Zen master to see the silver lining behind every cloud.

‘Did you ever find out what happened to
daimyo
Takatomi and Emi?’ he asked.

Sensei Yamado nodded. ‘Emi-chan’s safe.
Daimyo
Takatomi is a man of great wisdom. Ruthless as
daimyo
Kamakura is, he recognizes the need for such an astute lord as Takatomi in his new vision for Japan.’

‘You mean
daimyo
Takatomi’s serving him? He’s betrayed us!’ exclaimed Jack.

‘Our lord is no traitor,’ said Sensei Yamada sternly. ‘We have lost the war. But
daimyo
Takatomi realizes he could do more good for Japan serving in the new government than he could as an exiled lord, or a dead one.’

‘But surely Japan’s heading for disaster? Shouldn’t he be organizing a rebellion?’

Sensei Yamada thumped the ground with the tip of his staff. ‘After the rain, the earth hardens.’

Jack stared blankly at his Zen master, wishing he wouldn’t always speak in riddles.

‘Japan is now stronger than it was before the war. Though many would prefer someone else,
daimyo
Kamakura is the one finally to unify our country. Nobunaga piled the rice, Hasegawa kneaded the dough, but
daimyo
Kamakura gets to eat the cake!’

Sensei Yamada initially laughed at his clever analogy. Then his expression became grave again.

‘He has declared himself Shogun.’

‘Shogun?’

‘The supreme ruler of Japan.
Daimyo
Kamakura has seized
all
power, claiming a Minamoto bloodline. The Emperor becomes but a figurehead for our nation. Japan is now entirely in
daimyo
Kamakura’s hands. Which brings us to your predicament, Jack-kun. Have you had any thoughts as to your future?’

‘A few,’ admitted Jack, ‘but none of them offer me much hope.’

Sensei Yamada tutted and wagged his finger at Jack. ‘I believe you were the one to tell Yori, “Where there are friends, there’s hope.” Very wise words.’

He glanced towards the house as a
shoji
slid open.

‘Speaking of wise words, here comes a little wellspring of them.’

Yori bounded over the bridge, a tiny plant in his hand.

Jack was amazed at how resilient his friend had proven to be. The day after he and Akiko had fled the Tenno-ji Plain, they had come across Sensei Yamada and Yori retreating down the same road. It had been just in time too. With Akiko slipping in and out of consciousness, Jack was at a loss what to do. Sensei Yamada soon had the arrowhead out and treated Akiko’s wound with herbs.

It was during their journey to Toba that Yori told Jack how he’d escaped. Almost trampled underfoot by the Red Devils, he’d thrown himself off the bridge and into the moat. He’d then had to hide beneath the bleeding and maimed corpses of fallen samurai to evade capture. At dusk he’d made his way all alone across the Tenno-ji Plain until Sensei Yamada found him.

Yori was so delighted to discover his friends alive that his faith in Buddha now burnt brighter than ever. Yet in spite of his outward appearance of joy, Jack knew Yori suffered terrible nightmares of his escape. He heard him crying out in anguish every night.

Yori, a brave smile on his face, approached Jack and presented him with the sapling.

‘Uekiya says we can plant this
sakura
tree in honour of Yamato,’ he announced. ‘Akiko says you should choose the spot – as his brother.’

Choking back the tears, Jack took the little tree from him.

That evening, as the sun dropped below the horizon, Sensei Yamada, Yori, Akiko and Jack solemnly planted the
sakura
sapling.

As he tenderly filled in the hole, Jack said a prayer.

‘With this tree, we plant not only a memory of our friend, but a hope for our future.’

Jack double-checked his pack.

The
rutter
was safely stashed at the bottom, protected within its oilskin. Next to it was his Daruma Doll, its single eye staring out at him in the flickering light of the oil lamp. Also in the bag were a gourd of water, two straw containers of cooked rice, a spare kimono and a string of coins. All these had generously been given to him by Akiko’s mother, Hiroko, in addition to the blue kimono he now wore. Neither of the kimono had markings or
kamon
. Hiroko had chosen them specifically so that no one could identify him as a member of any family who may have fought against
daimyo
Kamakura.

The packing complete, Jack smiled to himself as he slipped Yori’s good-luck gift of a paper
origami
crane into the wooden
inro
case secured to his
obi
. The little bird rested on top of Akiko’s black pearl, guarding it as if the precious gem were an egg.

He was about to shoulder his bag when he remembered Sensei Yamada’s offering. Picking up the
omamori
, he tied the Buddhist amulet to the strap of his pack. Contained within its tiny red silk bag was a small rectangular piece of wood upon which Sensei Yamada had inscribed a prayer. His Zen master had told him the
omamori
would grant him protection. He’d warned Jack never to open it, otherwise the amulet would lose its power. But by hanging the
omamori
on his bag, Sensei Yamada prayed the amulet would convince locals Jack was a Buddhist, and that as a result they would be more willing to help him on his journey.

Sliding open the
shoji
to his room, Jack stepped out into the garden.

It was dark, the sun still below the horizon. The air had that fresh cool taste as if the world had yet to breathe. Jack slipped on his sandals and walked across the wooden bridge in the direction of a small gate set in the garden wall. As he put his hand upon the latch, Jack was reminded of the very first time he’d run away from Hiroko’s house. He’d got himself into serious trouble – though he had learnt a very useful Japanese word as a result.
Abunai
. Danger. Jack knew that by stepping through the gate this time he was guaranteed to encounter
abunai
.

‘You’re leaving without saying goodbye?’ said a softly spoken voice.

Akiko stood behind him, her hands clasped in front of her
obi
, her hair neatly combed and in a single plait down her back. She gazed at Jack with sorrowful, almost accusative eyes.

It hurt him for her to look at him that way.

But he’d said his farewells to everyone the night before at dinner. Akiko had been strangely quiet, though Jack had put that down to her slow recovery. Hiroko had offered to let him stay in her house indefinitely. Sensei Yamada had suggested Jack join Yori and him when they departed for the Tendai Temple in Iga Ueno. But he’d made up his mind.

‘It’s time I went home,’ said Jack, his heart breaking at having to say goodbye to Akiko.

‘But your home can be
here
,’ she said, a tremor entering her voice.

‘I can’t stay. If I do, I’ll only endanger you and your mother further. Rumours are spreading fast that you’re sheltering a
gaijin
. It won’t be long before
daimyo
Kamakura sends a patrol looking for me.’

‘But I can protect you -‘

‘No, let me protect
you
,’ insisted Jack. ‘It’s time I took responsibility for my actions. My determination to safeguard the
rutter
at all costs put you, Yamato, Emi, Masamoto and
daimyo
Takatomi in great danger. I will
not
do such a thing again. Masamoto-sama said I’ve come of age. I must face these challenges on my own.’

Akiko looked deep into his eyes and saw the path he’d chosen to take. She bowed in acceptance of his decision. When her head rose again, the tearful expression on her face had been replaced by one of strength and determined independence, a look Jack knew so well.

‘You cannot embark on a warrior pilgrimage without swords,’ she said, glancing at his unarmed hip. ‘Wait!’

As Akiko walked back to the house, Jack felt a wave of guilt at losing Masamoto’s
daishō
. It had also been foolish of him not to retrieve the samurai swords after his fight with Kazuki. But Akiko had been his priority.

A
shoji
opened and Akiko returned, bearing a
katana
and
wakizashi
.

‘Jack, you’re samurai. You must carry a
daishō
,’ she said, bowing and holding out the swords.

Jack was stunned by her gesture. In her hands, she held two magnificent swords with dark-red woven handles. They were sheathed within gleaming black
sayas
inlaid with mother of pearl.

‘I can’t take these,’ protested Jack. ‘They belonged to your father.’