Young Samurai: The Ring of Sky

by Chris Bradford

  ‘Aso-san’s five peaks … are supposed to look like … a sleeping Buddha,’ gasped Benkei, struggling to get his breath back. With an exhausted wave of the hand, he indicated the eastern peak to be the head and a steaming vent on another to be the Buddha’s navel.

  Although Jack couldn’t quite see the resemblance, standing on the lip of the caldera he felt as if he was on top of the world. The sky above was a cloudless blue dome, while the bowl of the crater dropped away into forested slopes to meet the patchwork plateau far below.

  Before they began their descent, Jack stole one final look at the Kuju mountain range behind. Upon a far ridge, he caught the sun glinting off something. Calling for Benkei to wait, he shielded his eyes and looked again. He now wished he possessed Miyuki’s eagle sight, but his eyes were good enough to spot more reflected gleams moving rapidly in their direction.

  Jack turned to Benkei to deliver the bad news. ‘We have company.’

  18

  Naka-Dake

  ‘Those samurai don’t give up easily, do they?’ panted Benkei, as they weaved in between the shimmering fields of rice.

  ‘Focus on your breathing,’ said Jack, not breaking his stride.

  He’d taught Benkei the art of Dragon Breathing, the secret to the ninja’s ability to run like the wind. This special cyclic pattern of inhales and exhales ensured that maximum oxygen reached the lungs. Inhale – exhale – exhale – inhale – exhale – inhale – inhale – exhale. The rhythm focused the mind, while the increased breaths improved efficiency, allowing the body to sustain its pace over long distances. Propelled by this extra energy, the two of them raced across the plateau.

  But however fast they ran the samurai had one distinct advantage – they were on horseback.

  Jack had spotted the mounted patrol crest the caldera at the same time as he and Benkei reached the crater basin. Still too far away to make out any details, he did glimpse a flash of golden armour. With a heavy heart, he realized this was no ordinary patrol. It could only be the Shogun’s elite samurai.

  ‘We should hide,’ said Benkei, panic seizing his voice.

  ‘Where exactly?’ replied Jack, indicating the wide-open terrain before them.

  Beyond the forested slopes, there was minimal cover to conceal their escape. The plateau was just rice field after rice field, with a few villages and farmhouses dotted here and there.

  The handful of workers tending the fields watched wide-eyed as the two fugitives shot past.

  ‘They’re bound to catch us … if we just keep running,’ said Benkei.

  Jack realized he was right. Even Dragon Breathing was no match for a galloping horse.

  ‘Maybe we can lose them among Aso-san’s peaks,’ he suggested, pointing to the five smouldering mountains that divided the caldera basin.

  ‘But they’re active volcanoes!’ exclaimed Benkei.

  ‘Exactly,’ replied Jack. ‘The horses won’t want to go anywhere near.’

  ‘Nor do I!’

  But Jack headed towards them nonetheless. ‘Just think of them as a bigger version of the Nine Hells of Beppu.’

  ‘That’s reassuring!’ cried Benkei, reluctantly following. ‘You almost broiled me alive there.’

  With their heads down, they sprinted for the slopes of Mount Taka, the highest of Aso-san’s five summits. Their plan was to cross from here to Naka-dake, the volcanic offshoot of this peak, lose the samurai amid the sulphurous vents and escape west.

  As they ran the last stretch, the Shogun’s samurai emerged from the forest. Paying little regard to the farmers or their crops, the patrol thundered in a direct line across the paddy fields. Their horses trampled rice under their hooves, breaking apart bunds and scattering the workers in their wake.

  Jack and Benkei scrambled up the mountainside through the treeline to the craggy heights. But the steep slope slowed their pace and the patrol rapidly gained ground.

  ‘Faster!’ urged Jack, almost pushing Benkei up the volcano.

  They were barely halfway when the Shogun’s samurai began their ascent. The horses struggled on the rough terrain, but their riders spurred them on.

  As Jack and Benkei passed the last traces of vegetation, they were confronted by a forbidding sight. Swirls of black and grey lava stone scarred a desolate landscape. Craters the size of islands pockmarked the surface and the volcanic ash under foot was dangerously unstable. Clouds of sulphurous gas pumped out of gaping vents, creating a billowing blinding fog.

  ‘Now this is Hell!’ wheezed Benkei, coughing and spluttering from the acrid air.

  Jack pulled his bandanna over his mouth and nose, then offered a spare bandage for Benkei to do the same.

  ‘Stay close,’ warned Jack as a steam cloud enveloped them. ‘We only want to lose the samurai, not each other!’

  The going was arduous and disorientating, and Jack wondered if he’d made a fatal mistake heading into the heart of a volcano. But as they neared the summit he heard the samurai’s horses whinnying in protest. Through a brief gap in the sulphurous clouds, he spotted the patrol dismounting lower down the slope and continuing their chase on foot. Jack’s strategy was paying off.

  All of a sudden Benkei stopped.

  The ground ahead sheered away into seeming oblivion. They’d reached the jagged lip of the main crater. Far below, amid the turbulent steam, a seething green-grey lake boiled and bubbled.

  ‘Which way now?’ asked Benkei, gagging on the sulphuric reek of rotten eggs.

  ‘Your guess is as good as mine,’ replied Jack, his eyes red and streaming.

  They decided to head right, skirting the crater rim. As the steam swirled around them, they caught further glimpses of the samurai. The patrol had been forced to split up to increase its chances of capturing them.

  Jack and Benkei hurried on. When they finally reached the far side of the crater, they discovered a lava field leading across to Naka-dake. Running as fast as the treacherous rock-strewn ground allowed, they almost tumbled head first into a chasm. It yawned like a jagged mouth between the two peaks, dropping dizzily into a grey graveyard of boulders, rocks and rubble.

  ‘Look, there!’ cried Jack, pointing to an old rope bridge strung across the chasm.

  They darted over, but Benkei halted at the foot of the bridge and refused to go any further.

  ‘I can’t cross that,’ he yelled, visibly trembling.

  Somewhere in the mist the shouts of the samurai drew closer.

  ‘If one sees with the eyes of the heart, rather than the eyes of the head, there is nothing to fear,’ said Jack, recalling the lesson of his blind bōjutsu master, Sensei Kano, when they were asked to cross a similarly dangerous gorge.

  ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

  ‘If the height scares you, simply don’t look. Become blind to your fear.’

  ‘I’m not scared of heights,’ replied Benkei. ‘I’m scared of the bridge!’

  Jack now saw that the construction was on the verge of falling apart. The ropes were frayed, the wooden planks pitted and rotten from the acidic atmosphere. The bridge was only wide enough for one person to cross at a time, but the gaps between the planks were equally wide enough for a person to fall through.

  The shouts of the samurai were closing in.

  ‘We’ve no choice but to risk it,’ said Jack.

  ‘Then we go one at a time,’ said Benkei.

  Jack nodded his agreement. ‘You go first. I’ll hold off any samurai.’

  ‘I’m not sure which is more dangerous,’ muttered Benkei, taking a deep breath and stepping on to the rickety bridge.

  It creaked loudly, the ropes becoming taut. But it held his weight. Step by cautious step, Benkei began crossing the swaying bridge. Below, piles of sharp rock and jagged boulders promised to impale him if it collapsed … or he lost his footing.

  Benkei was barely halfway when a figure emerged out of the fog behind them.

  Jack turned to face the samurai. The warrior was dressed in black leather armo
ur adorned with gold fastenings and a red sun kamon emblazoned on the breastplate. He wore an ornate golden helmet with a fearsome menpō covering his face.

  ‘I vowed I’d hunt you down, gaijin.’

  With a black-gloved hand, the samurai removed his mask to reveal a young handsome face with dark hooded eyes and high imperious cheekbones.

  Jack instinctively drew his sword. ‘Kazuki!’

  19

  Rope Bridge

  ‘That’s no way to greet an old schoolfriend!’ remarked Kazuki, eyeing Jack’s katana and keeping his distance.

  ‘Friend? You’ve no idea what friendship means,’ replied Jack, feeling his blood boil at his rival’s arrogance. ‘You betrayed everyone at the Niten Ichi Ryū.’

  ‘I was being loyal to my family and the future Shogun,’ shot back Kazuki. ‘That is true bushido.’

  Jack regarded him with contempt. ‘You know nothing of Respect, Rectitude or Honesty. Without those, you’re no more than a common mercenary. And it’s obvious you’ve been well rewarded for your treachery.’

  ‘This?’ said Kazuki, patting his golden helmet and grinning. ‘This is my promotion for capturing Sensei Kano.’

  Jack was too stunned to reply. He’d thought their bōjutsu master had managed to disappear after leading the surviving Niten Ichi Ryū samurai to safety during the Battle of Osaka Castle.

  Kazuki laughed cruelly. ‘No one escapes the Shogun’s wrath, gaijin. After sustaining some injuries in the flood during our last encounter, I was recommended to a blind healer. Imagine my surprise when he turned out to be Sensei Kano!’

  ‘You handed him over, when he was helping you?’ exclaimed Jack, aghast.

  ‘No, after he’d helped me,’ corrected Kazuki, without a flicker of remorse.

  ‘You’re the lowest of the low, Kazuki!’ Jack couldn’t stand his rival’s bragging any more. He shot a glance in Benkei’s direction. His friend was almost to the other side of the bridge. Jack could make a run for it … or confront his enemy. A showdown was long overdue and, fuelled with outrage at Sensei Kano’s fate, Jack raised his katana to attack. But as he gripped the handle with both hands, an agonizing fire shot through the stump of his little finger and he winced.

  ‘Missing something?’ smirked Kazuki.

  ‘Thanks to Sensei Kyuzo,’ seethed Jack, clenching his teeth against the pain.

  Kazuki nodded approvingly. ‘He was always my favourite teacher. That’s why I didn’t turn him in when I recognized him in Yufuin.’ He held up his gloved right hand, his fingers curled into an impotent claw. ‘At least we’re more evenly matched now – although yubitsume is hardly enough punishment for Akiko’s arrow through my hand.’

  Jack bristled at the implied threat. ‘You vowed to leave her alone!’

  Kazuki smirked at his impassioned reaction. ‘Don’t worry, I haven’t gone near your beloved friend … yet.’

  Struggling to keep his temper in check, Jack advanced on Kazuki. But, rather than going for his sword, his rival retreated.

  Jack pursued him into the mist.

  ‘Nanban, it’s this way!’ cried Benkei, stopping several planks short of the end.

  Chasing after shadows, Jack realized too late that Kazuki had baited him on purpose. Out of the steam materialized the rest of the patrol. And Jack recognized them all.

  The samurai were the four key members of Kazuki’s Scorpion Gang, the unit established in honour of daimyo Kamakura’s campaign to rid Japan of foreigners – and Jack was the gaijin at the very top of their death list.

  Nobu stomped towards him, a solid wall of muscle and flesh like the bulbous body of a walrus. While no match for Jack’s sword skill, he possessed the sheer brute force of a sumo wrestling champion.

  Hiroto, on the other hand, was as skinny as a bamboo stalk and had eyes that sat too close together aside a pinched nose. Limping slightly, he wielded a lethal barbed spear and wore thick body armour, clearly worried that Jack would wound him in the stomach for a third time.

  A greater threat was Goro, a muscular hardened warrior with devastating sword skills and total lack of honour. The boy slashed the air threateningly with his katana, the blade whistling as it cut through the mist.

  Finally, a giant stepped out. A good head taller than everyone else, Raiden was like a tree trunk with legs – and just as thick. What he boasted in pure strength, he lacked in brain. Jack had beaten him once in a taijutsu match, but the fight had almost been the end of him. On this occasion, Raiden brandished a formidable nodachi sword, its blade twice the length of Jack’s katana. Such a weapon could cleave him in half.

  The last gang member was missing: Toru.

  ‘If you’re looking for my brother,’ grunted Raiden, ‘he drowned in the flood … and it’s your fault.’

  Kazuki reappeared, his mask back on, his katana unsheathed in his left hand.

  ‘I’ve promised Raiden that he can cut off your head, once I’ve finished with you.’

  Kazuki’s eyes fixed on Jack – his unwavering stare certain of victory.

  Jack cursed himself for letting his rival trick him so easily. With only a single katana at his disposal against five opponents, he didn’t have a hope of defeating the Scorpion Gang all at once.

  Divide and conquer.

  That had been one of Masamoto’s key strategies in combat training. Somehow Jack had to reduce the gang’s combined fighting strength. The bridge was the answer. Crossing it, they’d be forced to engage him one at a time. But first he had to reach there alive.

  Jack’s foot found a loose rock on the lava field. As Kazuki advanced on him, he flicked it into his face and caused his rival to flinch. Then, with lightning speed, he leapt at Hiroto and cut down. The katana blade sliced the barbed spear in two as if it were no thicker than a chopstick. Left with a useless stump of wood, Hiroto’s eyes widened in terror as he stood defenceless against Jack’s sword.

  ‘Not again!’ he wailed, trying to protect his stomach.

  But a sudden thrust from Goro’s sword forced Jack on the retreat and he had to resort to front-kicking Hiroto in the face instead. The boy crashed on to the lava field, clasping his broken nose and howling. Jack fled from the encircling Scorpions. As he sprinted away, a blade swiped past his ear, missing his neck by a fraction.

  ‘After him!’ yelled Kazuki in frustration.

  Jack had no idea which direction he was heading. He just ran, the sulphurous steam swirling around him like ghosts.

  Then his heart leapt into his throat as the chasm lurched into view. Jack skidded to a halt, his feet almost slipping into the abyss. Through a break in the steam he spotted the rope bridge. Benkei was still there, uncertain whether to flee or await his return.

  ‘Run, Benkei!’ cried Jack.

  As he dashed along the chasm edge towards the bridge, he heard a clatter of rocks and a scream.

  ‘Help!’ came a cry.

  Jack glanced back to see Nobu clinging to the lip of the gorge. But Kazuki ran past, blatantly ignoring his friend’s peril.

  ‘Leave him,’ he snarled to Raiden and Goro. ‘Get the gaijin first.’

  Jack reached the foot of the bridge at the same time as Kazuki caught up with him. Their swords clashed and they became locked in combat. As the other Scorpions caught up, Jack shoved Kazuki away and leapt on to the bridge. He heard the whoosh of a blade and ducked. Kazuki’s sword sliced through thin air, then straight through one of the supporting ropes.

  The bridge shuddered as the tension in the rope pinged loose.

  Benkei dived for the safety of the other side, while Jack struggled to keep his footing on the warped planks.

  Unfazed, Kazuki forced Jack further on to the swaying bridge. Consumed with bloodlust, he was relentless in his attack. Jack could barely deflect the barrage of strikes as they rained down on him one after the other. With every impact, a spasm of pain rocketed through his arm. He felt his grip weaken on the katana and his defences rapidly crumbling.

  As he retreated from Kazuki�
�s onslaught, a plank cracked beneath his foot. Feeling himself drop into the chasm, he threw his weight backwards and managed to land on the plank behind. But he’d now left himself exposed to a killing strike.

  Kazuki brought his sword high up to spear Jack through the heart.

  ‘Now I will have my revenge, gaijin.’

  20

  Collapse

  In moments of death, a warrior’s perception is heightened and Jack saw everything with crystal-clear clarity. The gleaming point of Kazuki’s blade. The triumphant grin on his rival’s face. The wisp of steam that rose like a spirit from the depths of the chasm. He felt the coarse grain of the plank beneath his back. The smooth silk of his katana’s handle. The latent heat of the volcano. He heard the protesting creak of the bridge. The cry of alarm from Benkei. Even the beat of his own heart.

  Jack knew he had no chance of avoiding Kazuki’s death blow. But if he was to die he decided his rival must too. He couldn’t allow Kazuki to survive and go on to harm Akiko.

  As the sword came down, Jack didn’t attempt to block it. Instead he slashed at the bridge with his katana, his blade scything through another supporting rope. Already on the brink of collapse, the bridge now tore itself apart. Like a writhing serpent, it buckled and twisted. More ropes snapped and planks twirled away into the abyss.

  Kazuki’s expression turned from triumph to horror as the bridge disintegrated beneath them. In the chaos his sword missed its target and, screaming, he plummeted into the chasm alongside Jack.

  The bridge having ripped in two, Jack wrapped his arm round a plank and clung on for dear life as it swung across the abyss. He smashed into the chasm wall. His whole body jarred on impact, his arm almost wrenched out of its socket as he was slammed repeatedly against the rock face.

  Eventually the battering subsided and Jack hung there, limp as a rag doll. Blood dripped from multiple cuts and grazes on his arms, legs and face.

  ‘Nanban!’

  Jack groaned and looked up. Benkei’s shock of black hair peered over the lip of the chasm.