The Ring of Earth

by Chris Bradford

  He dearly wanted him to be Kiyoshi. For Akiko’s sake.

  ‘Shall we try and steal Soke’s pillow?’ Hanzo whispered.

  ‘Hanzo, what do you remember of your parents?’

  Hanzo blinked. ‘My parents?’

  Jack nodded.

  ‘Only what my grandfather told me. They died when I was five.’

  ‘Do you remember if you had any brothers or sisters?’

  The boy pondered this question carefully, his brow furrowing deeply. ‘Sometimes I dream of a nice lady who calls me kachimushi, “her little dragonfly”. But Grandfather’s never mentioned I had a sister.’

  That was a problem, Jack realized. Soke had told him that Hanzo’s parents had been killed by samurai. But Akiko’s mother, Hiroko, was alive and well in Toba, while her father had been tragically killed in the battle of Nakasendo ten years ago. So they couldn’t be Hanzo’s parents. Even if the boy’s past was wrong, Hanzo’s grandfather was Soke and he wasn’t of samurai origin. How could he be the grandfather of Akiko and Hanzo?

  Despite the birthmark, these facts denied the possibility that Hanzo could be Kiyoshi. It was just conincidence and wishful thinking on Jack’s part.

  ‘Let’s go and steal the pillow,’ insisted Hanzo, getting quietly out of bed.

  Jack gave in to his enthusiasm. Pulling back the covers of his futon, he joined Hanzo crouched by the shoji. Cautiously sliding it open, they both stealth-walked across the hearth room to Soke’s door.

  Jack reached for the handle of the shoji. Hanzo stopped him. Then, producing a small bottle of vegetable oil, he ran it along the bottom edge of the frame.

  To stop the squeaks, he mouthed.

  Jack smiled at Hanzo’s ingenuity. The boy certainly has Akiko’s cunning, he thought.

  Putting his hand to the door frame, Jack pulled on the shoji. It slid silently open. Soke was fast asleep on the far side of the room, his head resting upon the pillow. Jack wondered how they were going to remove it without waking the old man.

  They crept closer, quieter than mice.

  Yet, before they were even halfway across the room, the Grandmaster opened his eyes.

  ‘You need to silence your mind too!’

  26

  THE DEMONSTRATION

  The blade of the ninjatō almost took Jack’s head off.

  Ducking beneath it, he retaliated with a devastating cut to the midriff. Miyuki blocked it with her sword and drove forward to skewer him. But Jack wedged his blade against hers, sparks flying as the two weapons ground against one another. Deflecting the ninjatō, Jack aimed his sword’s kissaki at her throat, the razor-sharp tip stopping short of piercing her neck.

  A perfect Flint-and-Spark strike.

  Her attack halted, Miyuki glared at Jack before retreating to safety.

  A murmur of respectful appreciation arose from the crowd gathered round the village square. Shonin, who sat to one side beneath a large parasol, observed Jack with increasing admiration. His eyes never left the young samurai as Jack raised both his swords into a high Two Heavens guard and waited for Miyuki’s next assault.

  The challenge was supposed to be a ‘friendly’ one, for the benefit of Shonin to witness the Two Heavens in action. But the fight had quickly escalated in ferocity, becoming more of a duel than a demonstration. Miyuki was determined to beat Jack – to prove the Two Heavens was flawed and show that the ninja were more skilled than the samurai.

  Equally, Jack wasn’t willing to lose face at the hands of Miyuki. Not only was the reputation of Masamoto’s technique at stake but Jack’s personal honour too. Having been defeated in hand-to-hand combat during his escape attempt, Jack had no intention of letting her do the same with the sword.

  The hot sun beat down and, like Miyuki, Jack was breathing hard from the exertion of combat. Blinking away the perspiration running down his forehead, he tried to manoeuvre himself so that his back was to the sun and Miyuki would be forced to look directly into its glare. His opponent being such a skilful fighter, Jack needed every advantage he could get.

  So far Miyuki had tried every ninja trick – throwing dust into Jack’s face, feigning surrender, and even standing on his toes during one particularly close encounter. But she’d been unable to break through his defence.

  Miyuki had one third and final chance to defeat him.

  What would her strategy be now?

  She squinted into the bright sunshine, looking for a gap in his guard.

  ‘Two can play at that game,’ she said, bringing up her blade and angling it so the sun reflected into Jack’s eyes.

  Momentarily blinded, Jack had to rely upon the blind fighting skills Sensei Kano had taught him. Hearing the scuff of Miyuki’s feet and the swish of her sword cutting through the air, he instinctively blocked her incoming strike with his wakizashi, then brought his katana round in a counter-attack. Miyuki neatly evaded it and came at him from the opposing angle, her sword cutting down towards his neck.

  Only then did Jack notice the subtle but crucial shift in her fighting style. She now wielded her ninjatō left-handed!

  Jack was almost caught out, her blade slicing dangerously close to his right ear. He rapidly retreated across the square. But Miyuki’s attacks were even faster now. As he blocked her barrage of strikes, Jack suspected she was naturally left-handed and had hidden this fact in order to surprise him with her true skill.

  He was now literally fighting for his life.

  Miyuki didn’t let up and nearly penetrated his defence on several occasions. Then Jack spotted his chance. Miyuki over-committed to an attack, her sword remaining extended a little too long. Jack swiftly executed an Autumn Leaf strike, twice hitting the back of her blade.

  The ninjatō clattered to the ground.

  Disarmed, Miyuki fumed at Jack as the crowd applauded his supreme skill. Jack bowed in humble acknowledgement.

  But Miyuki wasn’t finished. Striding over to Kajiya’s forge, she snatched a manriki-gusari chain hanging from a beam. Spinning the weapon above her head, Miyuki threw the weighted end at Jack. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted the surprise attack and managed to block it with the back of his katana. But the links wrapped round the blade and Miyuki jerked the sword from his hand.

  Now Jack had only the wakizashi to defend himself with.

  Whirling the chain again, Miyuki called out, ‘What are you going to do now, samurai?’

  Without hesitation, Jack flipped the sword over in his hand and threw it at her – just like Masamoto had once done to him.

  The short sword flew like a shuriken through the air. Miyuki, in mid-swing, her arms above her head, was an easy target. The wakizashi struck her dead-centre in the chest, and she was knocked to the ground.

  Mountain-to-Sea technique. To attack in a manner that wouldn’t be expected.

  A gasp of astonishment was followed by more applause, everyone realizing that if the sword had been thrown point first, the result would have been fatal. Jack, glad as he was to beat Miyuki, hadn’t wanted to hurt her. He walked over and offered his hand. ‘You fought well.’

  ‘You were lucky!’ she growled, ignoring his outstretched hand as she got to her feet.

  ‘Samurai skills, more like,’ said Jack, retrieving his swords.

  Miyuki looked daggers at him. Shonin approached with Momochi and Soke, the Grandmaster beaming with approval at Jack’s performance.

  ‘That was most enlightening,’ said Shonin. ‘Thank you.’

  Bowing, Jack readied himself for the inevitable onslaught of questions about the Two Heavens. He’d have to be careful not to reveal too much to the tiger.

  ‘Masamoto-sama must not only be a great swordsman but a great teacher,’ Shonin acknowledged. ‘The Two Heavens is a truly remarkable sword style. But I wouldn’t say invincible.’

  With a brief nod of his head, Shonin strode off to the farmhouse, engaged in deep conversation with Soke.

  Jack stared after the two ninja, open-mouthed.

  ‘I though
t Shonin wanted to learn the Two Heavens,’ said Jack, more to himself than anyone in particular.

  Momochi heard him and laughed.

  ‘Shonin didn’t want to learn how to do the technique,’ he said, a sly grin on his face. ‘He wanted to learn how to defeat it.’

  Jack’s heart sank as he realized the implications. A tiger as intelligent and cunning as Shonin could work out how to climb the tree for himself – or simply cut it down.

  ‘Shonin was looking for weaknesses in the technique,’ Momochi went on, gloating at Jack’s evident alarm. ‘That demonstration has just saved many a ninja’s life.’

  Momochi swaggered off to join Shonin and Soke.

  Jack bitterly regretted his decision to display the Two Heavens. He could only pray Masamoto would forgive him for this serious error of judgement. At least the ninja were only intending to use their knowledge for defence, rather than to attack samurai.

  ‘You were amazing!’ exclaimed Hanzo, scampering over excitedly. ‘Tengu technique! I can’t wait to learn it.’

  ‘Very impressive,’ Tenzen agreed.

  ‘I had a good teacher,’ replied Jack, allowing himself a smile as Hanzo mock-fought with two imaginary swords. ‘Masamoto-sama’s the greatest samurai swordsman in Japan. Courageous, noble –’

  Miyuki laughed scathingly. ‘A samurai, noble?’

  ‘Yes!’ said Jack defiantly. ‘He taught me bushido.’

  ‘Bushido!’ spat Miyuki, squaring up to Jack. ‘You believe in that lie?’ Miyuki’s defeat in the demonstration had evidently roused her anger. ‘You need to be told the truth about the samurai and their precious code of conduct.’ She prodded Jack hard in the chest with her finger. ‘Bushido’s their excuse for killing, a way of absolving their guilt. The samurai are all murderers! Tyrants! Devils!’

  ‘That’s not true,’ countered Jack, taken aback by the hatred blazing in her eyes.

  ‘Really?’ she challenged. ‘My family were murdered by samurai!’

  So this was the source of Miyuki’s rage, realized Jack, and immediately understood the pain she was suffering. ‘I know how you feel –’

  ‘How can you? Let me tell you what samurai are capable of. Then you’ll see them in their true colours. Have you heard of the great General Nobunaga?’ she said, her tone thick with sarcasm.

  Jack nodded, recalling Akiko telling him about the warrior’s famous battles of thirty years ago.

  ‘Well, that “brave” samurai sent forty thousand troops against just four thousand Iga ninja. Then he ordered them to burn all the villages to the ground and massacre every man, woman and child. What part did the samurai’s code of bushido play in that?’

  Nose to nose with Jack, a thunderous expression on her face, Miyuki didn’t wait for his reply. ‘And he’s not the only one! Daimyo Akechi follows in his footsteps, laying waste to any ninja clan he finds. Where’s the rectitude in destroying whole villages? What honour is there in killing a defenceless woman, like my mother? How much courage does a samurai need to kill a child? My brother was not yet five!’

  A tear ran down her cheek, her whole body trembling with emotion.

  ‘Miyuki, calm down,’ interjected Tenzen, stepping between them. ‘Jack’s not to blame –’

  ‘Calm down? Samurai like him are the cause of all our troubles.’ She turned her attention back to Jack. ‘Do you know there were nearly a hundred ninja clans in these mountains? Now they can be counted on the fingers of one hand!’

  Miyuki thrust her hand in Jack’s face to emphasize the point.

  ‘So don’t tell me you know how I feel. You’re a samurai at heart. And always will be. I hate everything you stand for.’

  Her rage suddenly spent, Miyuki began to sob uncontrollably. ‘I lost my mother … my brother … my father … everyone …’

  ‘I’m truly sorry,’ said Jack. ‘But I do understand how you feel. My father was murdered too.’

  Miyuki stared at him through her tears, her eyes a mixture of shock and suspicion.

  ‘By the ninja Dragon Eye,’ explained Jack, to both Tenzen’s and Miyuki’s astonishment.

  ‘Maybe you do know a little of how I feel,’ she relented, shaking her head in dismay. ‘But Dragon Eye was never a true ninja. No matter how hard Soke tried, he was a lost cause.’

  ‘Soke knew him?’ said Jack, the heat of the day suddenly turning icy cold.

  ‘Knew him?’ replied Miyuki. ‘Soke taught Dragon Eye everything he knew.’

  27

  SOKE’S STUDENT

  Clouds were gathering on the horizon, and the sun appeared like a blood-red eye peering over the mountaintops when Jack confronted the Grandmaster outside his house.

  ‘Is it true?’ he demanded.

  Soke leant heavily upon his cane and sighed deeply, the weight of the world seeming to rest upon his bony shoulders. He looked at Jack with eyes sorrowful and full of regret. For once, the Grandmaster appeared as frail and old as his age.

  He nodded slowly. ‘Yes … Dragon Eye was a student of mine.’

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’

  ‘Would you have stayed if I had?’ asked Soke.

  ‘Of course not.’

  Jack had considered leaving the moment Miyuki had told him. How could he trust the man who’d taught his arch-enemy? The one who’d been the source of the deadly arts that had killed his father?

  ‘Then you have your answer,’ replied Soke, seating himself on the bench in his yard.

  Jack was confused. Was the ninja playing some cruel game with him, like a cat taunting a mouse until it died of fright? The Grandmaster surely knew of the rutter and its importance. He was just biding his time to strike.

  ‘What do you want from me?’

  Soke smiled kindly. ‘Only to help you.’

  ‘But why?’

  ‘Please sit,’ said Soke, patting the bench beside him. ‘Then I’ll explain everything.’

  Reluctantly, Jack sat down, keeping a wary distance from the Grandmaster.

  Soke took a deep breath and began, ‘Dragon Eye, or should I say Yoshiro as he called himself then, came to our village much like yourself – alone, a fugitive of the samurai. He’d been a farmer until his village was ransacked during the Nakasendo War. He’d lost his eye in an arrow attack. Out of compassion we took him in –’

  ‘Yoshiro wasn’t his name,’ Jack corrected. ‘And he wasn’t a farmer. He was Hattori Tatsuo, a samurai lord. The defeated daimyo of northern Japan. And he pulled the eye out himself.’

  Soke blinked, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise. Then he gave a hollow laugh, thumping the ground with his walking stick. ‘That explains a great deal. I had my suspicions the man was more than he claimed to be. He was a master of deception, possibly the most talented student I’ve had the honour of teaching.’

  Jack visibly recoiled at the praise the Grandmaster had just heaped on his enemy.

  ‘Only in respect of his skill,’ Soke added quickly. ‘Dragon Eye never embraced ninniku. He didn’t understand the importance of a pure and honest heart to being a true ninja.’

  ‘So why teach him at all?’

  ‘I didn’t realize what a rotten core he had. And he was such a natural at ninjutsu I even contemplated him succeeding me as Grandmaster!’ Soke shook his head in disbelief that he of all people could so easily be deceived.

  ‘But then I saw his true nature on missions – his cruelty, the pleasure he took in killing. I hoped to change him, guide him back on to the true path. But it was too late; he’d learnt all he needed and left to form his own ninja clan.’

  ‘You created that devil,’ said Jack, his words more a statement than an accusation. Angry tears welled up in his eyes as he thought of all the pain, the suffering and devastation that Dragon Eye had wreaked upon his life and those of his friends.

  ‘Most regrettably,’ Soke admitted, his eyes downcast. ‘So I feel responsible for your predicament. As soon as you told me of the fate of your father, I wanted to make amends.’ He gripped J
ack’s arm in earnest. ‘I thought if I could teach you the ninja skills you need to get to Nagasaki … in some small way, I’d gain absolution. And maybe you’d find it in your heart to forgive me.’ Soke let his hand fall and bowed his head, like a sinner in prayer.

  Jack had never seen the Grandmaster appear so vulnerable. He seemed truly repentant. Even though it was the old man’s teaching that had made Dragon Eye the deadly ninja he became, Jack couldn’t blame Soke for his student’s evil deeds. Dragon Eye himself, along with Father Bobadillo, were the ones truly responsible for his father’s death.

  ‘It wasn’t your fault,’ insisted Jack. ‘And your teaching has given me hope for the journey ahead.’

  Soke raised his head with relief.

  ‘I just can’t believe Dragon Eye could fool someone like you, a Grandmaster.’

  ‘Dragon Eye was very cunning,’ said Soke through gritted teeth. ‘Any time I became reluctant to teach him, he’d show signs of ninniku. I saw these as indications of progress. But he was merely tricking me into unlocking more ninja secrets – even Dim Mak. He played me like a shakuhachi!’

  The two of them sat there in silence as the setting sun blinked shut behind the mountains. The ghost of Dragon Eye seemed to hang over them in the encroaching darkness.

  ‘Once I really thought he’d changed,’ said Soke, clearly relieved he could talk through his guilt. ‘The man performed a compassionate, courageous act, something wholly in the spirit of ninniku. He saved a boy.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Hanzo,’ Soke revealed, smiling happily for the first time that night. He lowered his voice so that Hanzo couldn’t hear them from the doma, where he was preparing dinner. ‘In truth, he’s from another ninja clan. Five years ago, his home was attacked by samurai. Dragon Eye rescued Hanzo from certain death and then asked me to look after him.’

  Jack stared, open-mouthed, in astonishment at Soke. ‘Hanzo isn’t your grandson?’