Young Samurai: The Ring of Sky (24 page)

‘
Okuni?
’ gasped Jack,
as Miyuki tugged hard on the
obi
around his waist and tied it off in a willow
knot.

Miyuki nodded. ‘She and her
kabuki
troupe are upstairs performing to the
daimyo
as we
speak.’

‘They’re helping us
escape?’

‘You’ve become a folk hero to
them after everything you did to save their star performer,’ she revealed,
inserting the pins and comb into his black beehive of a wig. ‘Next, we need to do
your make-up.’

Miyuki took out a wooden box from her sleeve
pocket and opened it to reveal a number of compartments. Each was filled with a
different coloured powder or paste. Beside this, she placed a small jar of
milky-coloured wax, several bamboo brushes, a piece of charcoal and a bowl into which
she mixed some white powder and the remains of Jack’s slimy water.

‘Close your eyes,’ she
instructed, warming a dollop of wax between her hands and rubbing a thin layer over his
face and neck. Then she loaded a bamboo brush with the white make-up and painted his
exposed skin until it was as featureless as a snowdrift.

‘That’s the foundation layer
done,’ Miyuki explained, blotting the excess moisture with a sponge. She picked up
the piece of charcoal. ‘Don’t move or even blink. I can’t afford to
make a mistake here.’

Jack sat still as a statue as she redrew his
eyebrows, high on his forehead, in an expression of permanent astonishment –
which was exactly how he felt at seeing Miyuki again. He was bursting
with questions, desperate to know how she had survived, how she had found him and, most
importantly, whether she knew the fate of Yori or Saburo. But he understood
there’d be time for answers later, once they had escaped
daimyo
Kato’s clutches.

Jack gasped as he remembered the
rutter
.

‘Stay still,’ tutted Miyuki,
trying not to smudge the charcoal line.

Although he hadn’t seen
daimyo
Kato presented with his pack, the
rutter
was undoubtedly in
the samurai lord’s possession. And, in a castle this size, Jack could have no idea
where it was being kept. With a sinking heart, he realized he had no choice but to leave
his father’s precious
rutter
behind.

‘Keep your head up,’ instructed
Miyuki, carefully outlining his eyes in black.

Chewing on her lower lip as she worked,
Miyuki then selected a thin rabbit-hair brush and highlighted the corners in a garish
red hue.

‘Purse your lips like this,’ she
told Jack, forming her mouth into a pout and looking like she might kiss him.

Jack mirrored her pose and she laughed.

‘Not so fast, English boy,’ she
teased, dipping the brush in the same deep red paste and painting his mouth into the
shape of bee-stung lips.

Dressed in girl’s clothes and
plastered in make-up, Jack had to admit he was feeling a little self-conscious. But, as
a means of escape, he realized Miyuki’s plan was both daring and their only
chance. With so many sentries posted on the castle walls, Jack had to be invisible – or,
at least, unrecognizable.

Miyuki took a step back to admire her
handiwork and grimaced at what she saw.

‘What’s wrong?’ said
Jack.

‘I’m afraid that’ll have
to do,’ she sighed.

A burst of giggles made them both turn
round. Akiko stood in the doorway, dressed in a glorious mauve kimono with an
ivory-coloured design of herons in flight. Like Jack, her face was painted white, her
delicate features highlighted in black and red. But, unlike Jack, she looked divine.

Clapping a hand to her mouth, Akiko tried to
suppress her laughter.

‘
Shh!
’ warned Miyuki,
shooting her an annoyed look as she hurriedly repacked the make-up box.

‘Sorry,’ Akiko whispered,
‘but I’ve never seen Jack look so …’

‘Pretty?’ suggested Jack,
tilting his head to one side and batting his eyelids.

‘Pretty ugly more like!’ smirked
Miyuki. ‘But as it’s dark you should fool the guards.’

Jack squeezed his feet into the wooden
geta
and clip-clopped over to Akiko. ‘I was so worried. I thought the
daimyo
had …’

Akiko took his hand, squeezing it
reassuringly. ‘The guards didn’t lay a finger on me. The
daimyo
had
other plans for my fate. I was more worried about you.’

‘And
everyone
will be worried
about us, if we don’t get moving,’ interrupted Miyuki, purposefully passing
between them to reach the door. ‘The
kabuki
show must be almost over by
now.’

Akiko stiffened slightly at Miyuki’s
ill-mannered barging, but said nothing. Though neither girl liked the other – the
rivalry of samurai and ninja running deep – they at least shared a
healthy respect for each other’s skills.

Alert to the danger they now faced, the
three of them cautiously made their way down the darkened corridor. Four unconscious
guards lay sprawled on the floor. Half-drunk cups of
saké
were discarded on the
stone slabs next to their lifeless hands.

‘A sleeper drug,’ explained
Miyuki as she cleared away the evidence.

A ninja’s presence should be like
the wind – always felt but never seen
, thought Jack, remembering their training
together under the Grandmaster Soke. Miyuki’s cunning, expertise and thoroughness
were only some of the reasons why he admired her so much.

They hurried along to the bottom of the
stairwell, Jack tottering on his wooden clogs. The tight kimono restricted his movements
and he stumbled over a stone slab. Akiko and Miyuki caught him on either side and they
both exchanged a look of concern.

‘Let’s just hope we don’t
have to make a run for it!’ remarked Miyuki.

39
 
 

‘You’re cutting it fine,’
said Okuni under her breath, as Jack, Akiko and Miyuki joined her at the edge of the
stage. She arched her painted eyebrows at Jack’s vastly altered appearance, but
made no comment. ‘The final act’s about to go on.’

Junjun and six other girls, dressed in a
collection of flamboyant kimono, waited in the wings for the previous act to finish.
Jack peeked through a gap between two side screens.
Daimyo
Kato and his guests
reclined on silken cushions in the keep’s main reception room. It was a
magnificent chamber with a gold-panelled ceiling of painted flowers and silk-screen
walls adorned with exquisite scenes of blossoming trees and mist-shrouded mountains. The
samurai lord took prime position in the centre of a large raised dais. He clasped his
iron fan in one hand, tapping to the rhythm of the music played by three musicians on
the stage. Ten high-ranking officials, their silk robes as grandiose as their status,
sat either side of him. Four bore the
kamon
of the Shogun – a trio of hollyhock
leaves in a circle. And, around the chamber, another thirty armed samurai of the
Shogun’s personal guard knelt watching the show.

Jack thought he couldn’t go any deeper
into the lion’s mouth without being swallowed whole.

Taking centre stage, a juggler in a
multicoloured robe was performing the climax to his act. Juggling five eggs at once, he
tossed them so high into the air that they almost hit the precious gilded ceiling. As he
caught then threw one of the eggs, it miraculously transformed into a tiny sparrow that
fluttered away. Each consecutive egg did the same until the room was filled with the
sound of twittering birds.

‘I don’t believe it!’
exclaimed one of the officials. ‘He turned the eggs into
suzume
!’

The audience burst into astonished applause.
Even
daimyo
Kato put down his fan to join in the clapping. The spiky-haired
performer gave a flourishing bow, then bounded off the stage.

‘You were
amazing
!’
fawned Junjun. ‘How on earth did you make that happen?’

‘A good conjuror never reveals his
tricks!’ he replied, grinning from ear to ear at his enthusiastic reception.

‘
Benkei!
’ whispered
Jack, both delighted and relieved to see his friend safe and sound. He wasn’t a
traitor after all. He was one of their saviours.

Turning, Benkei did a double-take, then
laughed, ‘You scrub up well,
nanban
.’

‘Careful what you say!’ hissed
Miyuki. ‘
Anyone
could be listening.’

Benkei immediately sealed his mouth,
pretending to sew his lips together with a finger, as the musicians struck up a new song
and Junjun and her dancers swanned out on to the stage for the finale.

‘You
have
to watch this,’
urged Benkei, too excited to keep quiet. ‘Junjun is simply outstanding.’

Encircled by the other dancers, Junjun began
to twirl and twist as if performing a Buddhist prayer dance. The
shamisen
twanged to the intense beat of the
tsuzumi
drums and the wooden clappers
accentuated her movements. Floating in short dainty steps around the stage, she bobbed
and weaved like a feather caught in the wind. Her hands flowed in complex patterns,
seeming to press and lift the very air around her.

‘I hope this dance is short,’
mumbled Miyuki under her breath. ‘We’re living on borrowed time.’

Like the rest of the room, Jack was dazzled
by Junjun’s display, but he also felt Miyuki’s agitation. Their breakout
could be discovered at any moment – a change of guards, a spot check, or even the alarm
being raised if one of the comatose samurai recovered.

Junjun continued to flutter across the
stage, teasingly exposing her wrists and displaying her painted neck. At the height of
the music, she struck an unexpected pose. Stamping her left foot powerfully to the
floor, she stood stock still, her right hand outstretched and flat towards the ground
and her left pointing directly skywards. Her red-tinted eyes were opened so wide, they
seemed to fill her doll-like face. The effect was so sudden and overpowering that many
of the officials gasped in shock. Jack had never seen anything like it. Nor, apparently,
had
daimyo
Kato and the other samurai. They all sat transfixed, their mouths
hanging open like stunned goldfish.

‘Junjun has cut a
mie
pose,’ explained Okuni in hushed
tones. ‘I created the
technique to draw attention to the emotional climax of the dance. This is what makes my
kabuki
show stand out from all others.’

The
shamisen
, drums and clappers
reached a fever pitch, then ceased abruptly. The silence that followed was almost as
deafening. While Junjun hesitantly bowed, the audience remained thunderstruck. The
samurai all awaited the reaction of the
daimyo
to this dramatic and sensational
display. Then, just as the lack of reaction was becoming unbearable,
daimyo
Kato smiled and began clapping and the whole room exploded into fervent applause.

Junjun gave another bow before Okuni joined
her on stage and presented her star performer to the
daimyo
himself. After the
necessary formalities, Okuni and Junjun took their leave and joined the rest of the
troupe backstage. Junjun was immediately swamped by well-wishers, but Okuni shooed them
away and set everyone to work packing up the show’s clothes and props. To blend in
with the troupe, Jack, Akiko and Miyuki did their best to help, while Benkei spent most
of his time engaged in charming Junjun.

‘How much longer do you think we
have?’ Jack whispered to Miyuki.

‘Depends,’ she replied,
hurriedly folding up a kimono. ‘Those sleeper drugs can last all night,
or … just a few hours.’

Once Okuni had settled her business affairs
with the
daimyo
’s treasurer and apologized for their need to leave for a
booking in Shimabara the next day, she led her troupe from the reception room. Jack
tottered along between Akiko and Miyuki. He kept his head down as they paraded past the
daimyo
, who gazed longingly at the departing Junjun. This worked in their
favour, and he and Akiko slipped from the chamber unnoticed.

Descending several flights of stairs, the
kabuki
troupe exited the keep and crossed the gravelled courtyard that only
three days before Jack and Akiko had been dragged over as prisoners. They approached the
courtyard’s inner gate. A unit of eight samurai stood sentry. Flaming torches lit
the entrance, banishing the night and exposing anyone who passed beneath to their
unforgiving glare.

Jack felt himself trembling with nerves.
This would be his first real test. Could he really pass himself off as a
kabuki
dancer? He was taller and stockier than the others. His wooden
geta
clumped on
the stone path, seemingly louder than all the girls put together. Perspiring heavily, he
now worried that his make-up might be running. Miyuki had been crazy to believe this
disguise could work. Any guard worth his salt would be able to tell that he wasn’t
a girl!