‘It’s too narrow,’ the samurai protested.
The leader swore in frustration. ‘Stay here in case he doubles back. The rest of you come with me. We’ll catch him on the other side … if he gets out alive.’
3
Ninja Breathing
Jack furiously crawled, pushed and pulled his way down the passage. It was pitch-black and growing ever tighter. As the sides closed in, he couldn’t help thinking of the immense weight and pressure of the headland bearing down on him. He began to perspire. His hands trembled uncontrollably as claustrophobia took hold. His shoulders became jammed between two rocks and he panicked. He twisted and turned, but couldn’t free himself. All of a sudden he had trouble breathing. There didn’t seem to be enough oxygen in the air.
Then he heard the ominous roar of a wave.
A rush of wind preceded the unseen wall of water as the sea funnelled into the confines of the passage and hurtled towards Jack. Snatching a last breath, he braced himself. The wave hit him with the impact of a stampeding horse. Water flooded the passageway and he was submerged beneath a bubbling roar.
Fighting to control his panic, Jack knew his only chance of survival lay in a ninja breath-suppression technique. There’d been no time to perform the requisite deep-breathing exercise, so he had to rely on the other elements being enough. With practised skill, he relaxed his muscles and focused his mind. Summoning up a joyous moment in his life as a means of zazen meditation, Jack pictured Akiko, his closest friend, sitting with him beneath the sakura tree in Toba. The turbulent wave buffeted him as he dropped into a meditative state and his heartbeat slowed dramatically. At half the rate, his body’s demand for oxygen fell and he was able to suppress his natural need to breathe.
But only for so long … a few minutes at the most.
The sea surged through the passageway, threatening to hold him in its watery embrace forever. Then his shoulders broke free, the pressure of the wave dislodging him. A moment later, the flow reversed direction and Jack was pulled along in its wake. As he struggled in its wild current, his heart rate shot up and his lungs burned for oxygen. Jack had reached his limit and his mouth involuntarily opened to suck in water where it expected air …
On the brink of drowning, Jack was saved at the last second when the wave finally receded. His head broke the surface and he gasped for air. Coughing and spluttering, he groped in the darkness for his swords and pack. His hands clasped round the handles and strap, then he scrambled as fast as he could along the gradually widening passageway. But, before he could reach the sea entrance, another wave flooded in.
Jack was more prepared this time. Bracing himself against the walls, he took three deep breaths before holding the last and re-entering his meditative state. The sea tore past him and his kimono felt as if it would be ripped from his back. But Jack held firm. He counted time, waiting for the turn of the current. The wave rolled on and on, a seemingly endless surge. Then he felt the shift in direction. All the while his need to breathe intensified. The water took far longer to disperse than he’d anticipated. His lungs were on the point of bursting … then the passage emptied of water. As he gulped in precious air, he could already hear another wave approaching and realized the tide must be coming in.
Lucky to have survived the first two waves, Jack knew the third would be the end of him.
He crawled along the passageway, dragging his pack and swords behind. The wave thundered closer. He scrabbled over some rocks and came to a fork in the darkness. With no time to hesitate, a gleam of light convinced him to go left. The slope inclined upwards to a large hole. Behind, the sea pursued him like a foaming monster. With a final burst of effort, Jack clambered out and rolled on to a patch of sand, a spray of seawater shooting out of the blowhole after him.
Jack lay for several moments on his back, recovering from his narrow escape. He found himself in a large cave with rock pools and stalactites. Bright welcome sunlight poured through the cave’s craggy opening. Beyond stretched a beach of glistening black sand.
Wasting no more time, Jack secured his swords and shouldered his pack. Cautiously, he made his way to the entrance and peered out. Apart from a few seagulls, the beach was deserted. It appeared the samurai patrol hadn’t yet managed to climb over the headland. Leaving the shelter of the cave, he dashed across the beach towards what looked like a trail winding its way up the opposite cliff face.
The sand was hot beneath his feet as he ran. By midday, Jack guessed it would become unbearable. He was halfway along the beach when he spied an object among the pecking seagulls on the sand. As he drew closer, the seagulls flew off and Jack was sickened to discover that it was a human head.
He shouldn’t have been so shocked. The samurai were well known for decapitating their victims. After a battle, it was the tradition for warriors to present the heads of their conquered enemies to their generals for inspection. Heads were also cut off as part of seppuku, ritual suicide. Or, in less honourable circumstances, as a brutal form of capital punishment. In this case, the unfortunate victim was a boy and appeared to be a peasant or common criminal – the head didn’t sport the shaved pate and topknot of the ruling samurai class. Instead, wayward black hair shot up as if still in shock from its owner’s sudden demise.
Jack offered the head a pitying look and ran on, keenly aware that the same fate awaited him if he didn’t escape.
‘Hey, nanban!’
Unsheathing his katana, Jack spun to face the samurai patrol. But there was no one chasing him.
‘Are you blind? Down here!’
Jack stopped in his tracks. The decapitated head was talking to him.
4
Head in the Sand
‘Stop gawping and help me,’ it demanded, squinting against the bright sunlight.
‘Y … you’re still alive!’ Jack exclaimed in disbelieving horror.
‘Of course, nanban. Now stand in front of the sun.’
Sword still drawn, Jack warily approached and positioned his shadow across the head’s face. On his journey through Japan, he’d experienced many strange encounters – from shape-shifting monks to fortune-telling witches to warrior spirits – but this undead head was beyond all reasonable explanation. Then he realized the young man was buried up to his neck in the sand. A year or so older than Jack, the disembodied boy possessed a flattened brow, snub nose and large ears that stuck out like jug handles. The thick lips were sunburnt and the reddened cheeks glistened with sweat. Several bloody peck marks dotted the forehead beneath the wild forest of black hair.
Once shaded from the sun’s glare, the boy sighed with relief. Then he scrunched up his face and began twitching manically. ‘Scratch my nose, will you?’
Jack reached out a tentative hand and rubbed the boy’s nose with a fingernail.
‘A little lower … ah, that’s better! An itch is torture. Now, are you going to help me or not?’
‘I’m not sure there’s much more I can do.’
‘Are all nanban so simple-minded?’ said the boy in exasperation. ‘How about digging me out?’
Before leaping to his aid, Jack took a moment to glance over his shoulder. Although there was still no sign of the patrol, he couldn’t afford to linger on the beach digging this person up …
‘What are you waiting for?’ complained the head. ‘I’m dying here!’
But neither could he abandon the victim to certain death. The sun was already scorching and the tide was coming in. Within hours the young man would be killed by the blistering heat or drowned beneath the waves. Forgetting his own fate for a moment, Jack hastily sheathed his sword, dropped to his knees and began scooping up handfuls of sand. Then he hesitated again.
‘Don’t stop!’ cried the head.
‘Why are you buried in the first place?’ asked Jack, suddenly aware he could be unearthing more trouble for himself.
‘My friends did it for a joke,’ the head replied, giving him a hearty smile.
‘Some joke.’
&nbs
p; The head could see Jack wasn’t convinced. ‘I’m not a murderer if that’s what you’re thinking, nanban. You of all people must know what it’s like in Japan with the new shogun. The innocent are guilty … unless they’re samurai!’
Jack did understand. Since his arrival in Japan, he’d witnessed a deaf tea merchant lose his head for simply not bowing and Christian priests hung by their necks solely for their beliefs. Race, religion or lowly status provided enough reason for a death sentence under Shogun Kamakura’s ruthless reign. Whatever crime this young man had committed, he was unlikely to deserve such a cruel punishment.
Jack resumed his digging. ‘So who are you?’
‘Benkei the Great!’ proclaimed the head.
Jack raised an eyebrow at such a grandiose title, but made no comment. ‘I’m Jack Fletcher from England.’
‘A nanban who speaks fluent Japanese,’ remarked Benkei, impressed. ‘Nor have I ever met a southern barbarian with samurai swords before. Who did you kill to acquire those? Or did you steal them from a battlefield?’
‘They were a gift from a close friend,’ Jack stated, working hard to shift the wet sand trapping Benkei’s chest.
Benkei shared a conspiratorial wink with him. ‘Whatever you say, nanban.’
Jack ignored his cynicism and asked, ‘How long have you been buried like this?’
‘Oh, a day or so.’
‘I’m surprised you’re still alive.’
‘I caught a couple of sand crabs in my mouth,’ Benkei explained. ‘A bit crunchy for sashimi, to be honest. And they fight back!’ He stuck out his tongue to show a red pincer mark. ‘Then last night when the heavens opened, I had more than enough to drink. Actually, I almost drowned.’
Jack stopped digging again and asked tentatively, ‘Have you seen anyone else along this beach?’
Benkei considered this for a moment. ‘Maybe. Who are you looking for?’
‘Three friends. A small monk by the name of Yori, carrying a Buddhist ringed staff. A young samurai called Saburo. He’s a lot larger, particularly round the middle. And Miyuki, a slim girl with spiky dark hair and eyes black as midnight.’
‘Aren’t we all looking for a girl like that?’ Benkei replied with a mischievous grin.
‘This one could kill you,’ warned Jack, and the grin died on Benkei’s face. ‘So have you seen any of them?’
‘Finish digging me out and I’ll tell you who I saw.’
Encouraged by this, Jack furiously shovelled sand until Benkei’s arms were free. Then between them they created a hole large enough for Jack to pull him out.
‘That’s the last time I go to the beach,’ said Benkei, brushing the sand from his brightly coloured kimono, a motley patchwork of red, green and yellow silks. He shook his gangly legs and a bewildered crab dropped from his undergarments. ‘That was really uncomfortable.’
‘So who did you see?’ Jack urged, eager for news of his friends.
Benkei shrugged apologetically. ‘No one fitting those descriptions, I’m afraid.’
Jack felt cheated. ‘But you said –’
‘Thanks for digging me out, nanban,’ he interrupted, his eyes flicking to the headland, before sprinting off in the opposite direction. ‘Nice to meet you!’
Hearing a shout from behind, Jack turned to find the samurai patrol charging along the beach towards him. Beginning to regret his decision to stop and help, Jack ran after Benkei.
5
Onsen
‘They’re after me, not you!’ cried Jack as they reached the top of the cliff.
‘That may be true, nanban, but I’m not exactly popular with the samurai in these parts either,’ said Benkei, not breaking his stride.
The trail cut through shrubland to a crossroads beside a lone tree. A well-used dirt road followed the coastline, while a smaller track headed inland towards a rugged mountain range.
‘Which way? I’ve no idea where I am,’ Jack admitted.
Benkei raised an eyebrow in surprise. ‘This is Kyushu Island. North takes you to Shimonoseki, south to Funai through the town of Beppu, and that way –’ he pointed along the track – ‘leads to the Kuju range. But I’d avoid that route if I were you. Unless you want to get really lost!’
Below, they heard the shouts of the patrol drawing closer and, to their alarm, saw two more samurai tearing along the road from the direction of the headland.
‘Your best chance of escape lies in Beppu. Follow me, if you want,’ said Benkei, dashing off towards the town.
With little alternative, Jack hurried along in his wake. Fleeing south, they crested a rise and Jack was greeted by a remarkable sight. The town of Beppu lay at the foot of a mountainous slope, whose curving sides embraced a broad inlet of the Seto Sea. But what stunned Jack were the clouds of steam billowing skywards from the surrounding land. It was as if Beppu had been constructed atop a smouldering bonfire.
Catching Jack’s astonished expression, Benkei breathlessly explained, ‘Beppu sits … in the shadow of … Mount Tsurumi.’ He pointed to a towering volcanic peak in the distance. ‘What you see is the breath of the mountain’s dragon.’
They entered the outskirts of town. The two samurai were close on their heels, the rest of the patrol not much further behind. Double-storey wooden buildings with washi paper walls and sliding shoji doors bordered the streets on either side. Many appeared to be inns offering accommodation.
‘That’s why Beppu’s such a popular spa town,’ Benkei continued, leading Jack through the maze of steaming streets. ‘The onsens here are truly magnificent … some of the best in Japan …’
Startled residents and visitors exclaimed their annoyance and alarm at Benkei’s haste as he upset a vegetable cart to slow the samurai’s pursuit. Then several people cried out at the unexpected sight of a blond-haired, blue-eyed foreigner running headlong through their spa town.
‘Noblemen, samurai, merchants … they travel miles to rejuvenate themselves in these waters –’ Benkei bowled into a passer-by, sending the man reeling on to his backside. ‘Sumimasen!’ he apologized, then sprinted on as the man cursed him.
They cut down a side alley, hoping to lose the patrol. But the samurai were familiar with the town’s layout and, despite his best efforts, Benkei was having great difficulty shaking them off. At the same time, Jack was struggling to keep up, his pack bouncing off his back and his swords rattling on his hip. The angry shouts of the patrol relentlessly trailed them through the streets. Shoji slid open on all sides as curious residents peered out to see what all the commotion was about.
‘The onsen owners claim the baths work wonders on the body and spirit,’ explained Benkei. ‘Let me show you one.’ He suddenly switched right towards a large wooden building with a thatched bamboo roof and barged through a set of double doors.
Baffled by his companion’s mid-chase tour, Jack nonetheless followed him inside. They skidded on the polished wooden floor of the reception area and knocked over a display of perfectly arranged flowers.
‘This way!’ cried Benkei, ignoring the protests of the bath attendants.
He led Jack down a corridor into a room clouded with steam. Several bathers were relaxing in a sunken pool fed by a natural hot spring. Shocked by the sudden intrusion, they sat gaping like wide-mouthed frogs in the milky water.
‘Where now?’ said Jack, unable to spot a way out.
‘Wrong turn!’ Benkei cried apologetically, racing back to the door.
The first samurai entered the onsen. Benkei snatched up a wooden bucket full of hot water and threw it over the warrior. The samurai gasped in surprise but kept coming, so Benkei threw the bucket itself. It struck the warrior in the head, stunning him. Jack finished him off with Fall Down Fist, as the second samurai charged in, sword drawn. Benkei grabbed a towel from a terrified bather. Twirling it, he threw the towel into the samurai’s face. The momentary distraction gave Jack the opportunity to side-kick the samurai into the steaming bath. He landed with an almighty splash among the dumbstru
ck bathers.
‘Impressive kick, nanban!’ said Benkei. ‘Let’s get out of here.’
Returning to the corridor, they ran down to the last door. Screams filled the air as female guests grabbed their robes.
‘Sumimasen!’ apologized Benkei, pretending to cover his eyes. ‘Just passing through.’
Jack respectfully averted his gaze as they dashed to the opposite side of the onsen. Sliding open a door, they emerged into a well-tended garden with rock pools and waterfalls. Steam rose from a number of natural stone rotenburo where more bathers soaked in the super-heated waters.
‘Pity we can’t stay,’ remarked Benkei. ‘I could do with a bath.’
Leaping over a bubbling pool of pink-fleshed guests, Benkei and Jack ran through the garden as cries of outrage and alarm followed them. They clambered over a stone wall and dropped into a backstreet, before quickly ducking into a deserted alleyway. From behind the shelter of a woodpile, they peered out.
‘I think … we’ve lost them,’ said Benkei, wiping the sweat from his brow.
Jack started to nod his agreement, when there was a bellow from the other end of the alley.
‘Stop right there, gaijin!’ snarled the sour-faced samurai. ‘And you, Benkei.’
The rest of the patrol, their swords drawn, stood in formation behind their leader.
‘Then again, maybe not!’ admitted Benkei, holding up his hands in surrender.
6
Nine Hells of Beppu
‘By order of the Shogun, you’re under arrest for treason,’ declared the patrol leader, striding down the alley towards them.
‘What?’ exclaimed Benkei in genuine shock. ‘I only hoodwinked the local magistrate.’
‘Not you, idiot. The gaijin. But don’t think you’ll escape punishment. You’re an accomplice now.’
Young Samurai: The Ring of Sky Page 2
