‘West it is,’ said Miyuki, riling Akiko who’d been about to reply.
‘Don’t you think we should ask the others first?’ said Akiko.
‘We need to keep off the main road,’ argued Miyuki.
‘But mountainous routes are prime bandit territory.’
As the two girls began bickering over the direction, Benkei and Saburo exchanged bewildered looks while the squabble grew in intensity. Jack was about to intervene, when Yori threw his shakujō into the air. The staff landed with a jingling clatter on the ground, silencing Akiko and Miyuki. They both stared at the discarded staff, its brass tip pointing towards the left fork.
‘Fate says we go west,’ declared Yori, picking up his shakujō and striding off up the road.
Jack had to admire Yori. His friend knew how to settle an argument quickly and fairly. Accepting the decision, Akiko spurred her horse on. Miyuki followed behind, not quite triumphant but pleased nonetheless.
The road wound steeply up the slope, leaving the port of Shimabara behind. As they climbed, they approached a small plateau with a tea house overlooking glorious views of the bay.
‘We should stop here,’ suggested Saburo, panting from the heat and exertion.
‘I don’t think we have a choice,’ replied Akiko, as five men emerged from the tea house.
Armed with swords and clubs, they formed a line across the road, blocking their path.
44
Ronin Recruits
The five men had travel-worn appearances, their kimono slightly threadbare and their faces unshaven. They each held weapons that were chipped and stained with the dried blood of old battles. No kamon or other insignia were visible on their clothes. The gang were all ronin, masterless samurai.
Jack and his friends had no way to avoid the ronins’ blockade. The tea house sat upon the lip of the plateau which rapidly dropped away down a rocky slope. The other side of the road met a steep bank of forest. The only route they could take was through the line of samurai and they weren’t shifting.
‘We’ve been waiting for you, Benkei,’ said the apparent leader, a warrior with bulging arms like knotted ropes and a chest as solid as a battering ram.
‘Me?’ said Benkei, alarmed.
‘Is there something you haven’t told us, Benkei?’ asked Akiko, her hands subtly reaching for her bow.
‘I’ve never seen these men in my life!’ he protested.
Saburo raised a questioning eyebrow at him. ‘But he knows your name.’
‘So do a lot of people.’
‘Could you have tricked them at some point?’ asked Jack, keeping the rim of his hat low over his face.
Benkei took a good look at the five men. Along with the leader was a thin samurai with a scar down his right cheek; a heavily bearded warrior with fists like boulders carrying a studded club; and the last two appeared to be brothers, they shared the same crooked noses and pencil-thin mouths. The only difference was that one was missing an ear.
‘I … don’t think so,’ said Benkei, slowly shaking his head. ‘I would’ve remembered men this ugly.’
‘Well, we know you!’ snorted the bearded ronin, slapping his club in one meaty hand. ‘And I’ll make you pay for that insult … in blood.’
Benkei shied away, moving behind Jack for protection.
‘And I think we’ve found the gaijin samurai too!’ exclaimed one of the brothers, pointing at Jack. ‘Look, his daishō have red handles.’
Jack now glanced up, his identity discovered.
‘It is the gaijin samurai!’ confirmed the other brother, rubbing his hands together in delight. ‘We’re going to be very rich indeed.’
‘But I thought there were only supposed to be two of them. Not six,’ said the thin samurai, the scar on his cheek wrinkling like a snake as he spoke.
‘No matter,’ replied the leader, launching a gob of spit at the ground. ‘They’re just young samurai.’
He drew his sword, a mighty nodachi, the blade twice the length of a usual katana, and advanced on them. The other ronin took up battle formation on either flank. Jack and his friends seized their weapons as the samurai rushed towards them. With effortless calm, Akiko selected an arrow, nocked it on her bow and took aim. In the blink of an eye, she let it loose towards the brother with the missing ear. The arrow struck him in the shoulder with such force he was thrown backwards into the tea house and pinned to the wall. Howling in pain, he struggled to free himself.
Enraged by the attack on his brother, the other sibling charged at Akiko before she could fire off another arrow. He swung his katana to cut her down from her horse, but Saburo blocked the attack with his sword. Then he roundhouse-kicked the man in the stomach and sent him staggering backwards. Yori was waiting for him and thrust his staff between the brother’s legs. He rolled once before disappearing over the edge of the plateau. A rattle of rock and scree receded into the distance as he tumbled head over heels down the slope.
At the same time, the bearded warrior attacked Benkei. He wielded his club in lethal arcs, forcing Benkei to dive out of the way. Jack leapt to his defence, using his katana and wakizashi to drive the ronin towards Miyuki. Like a cat, she pounced on the bearded ronin’s back and buried her hairpin into a nerve point on his neck. The man’s eyes rolled in his head and he collapsed like a felled tree, unconscious before he even hit the ground.
Taken aback by the ease with which the young samurai had dispatched three of his men, the leader of the gang now went for Jack, his nodachi raised high to slice him in half. Akiko fired off a second arrow. The steel tip buried itself in the man’s chest. But the leader was strong as an ox. He merely grunted and tore the arrowhead out before swinging his massive sword again at Jack’s head. Jack deflected it with his wakizashi then retaliated with a cross-cut. The tip of his katana missed the man’s neck by a fraction. The lethal length of the nodachi meant Jack couldn’t get close enough to inflict a damaging blow.
But Miyuki could. She threw a shuriken. It embedded itself in the man’s right bicep and he howled in pain. The distraction allowed Jack to disarm the leader with a double Autumn Leaf strike and the nodachi clattered to the ground. The leader roared in fury and charged headlong at Jack. Akiko tugged on the reins of Snowball and the horse turned and kicked out with its hind legs. The hooves caught the leader in the chest and sent him flying over the lip of the plateau to join the other ronin.
Only the scarred samurai was left. He made a last-ditch effort to kill the gaijin samurai. But his sword skills were no match for Jack’s. With a simple Flint-and-Spark strike, Jack knocked the samurai’s blade aside and cut up at the man’s face. The steel tip of the katana sliced across his left cheek to leave a thin red line of blood.
‘Now you have a matching scar,’ said Jack. Standing in a Two Heavens stance, one sword held high, the other low, he gave his opponent the opportunity to reconsider his chances of survival.
Outskilled and outnumbered, the samurai dropped his sword, turned tail and fled down the road. He was running so fast, he left a dust trail in his wake.
‘We need to get moving before he tells everyone in Shimabara about you,’ said Akiko, securing her bow back on the saddlebag.
Jack nodded in agreement and sheathed his swords to leave. But Miyuki picked up a rock and flung it after the fleeing samurai. The rock sailed through the air and struck the man in the back of the head. He took one more faltering step, then collapsed face first in the dirt.
‘That should give us a little more time,’ said Miyuki, arching an eyebrow at Akiko.
Akiko nodded a stiff acknowledgement, while the others stared at her, astounded by the accuracy of her long shot.
‘How did you do that?’ said Saburo.
‘I’m a ninja,’ stated Miyuki, her tone matter-of-fact.
Then Yori cried in alarm, ‘Where’s Benkei?’
Jack and the others looked around, but he was nowhere to be seen – not on the road, not beside the tea house or even down the slope. Then Benkei�
��s head popped out from behind a tree. ‘Is it safe to come out yet?’
Jack smiled and nodded.
‘Well, you’re a brave one!’ mocked Saburo.
‘I didn’t want to get in the way,’ replied Benkei, unashamed by his obvious self-preservation. ‘Besides, when you all fight so well together, you don’t need Benkei the Great spoiling your flow.’
‘What I want to know is how they recognized you and me in the first place,’ said Jack.
‘Why don’t we ask the ronin?’ suggested Akiko, pointing to the brother still pinned to the tea house.
‘Release me … please!’ the man whimpered, feebly tugging at the arrow shaft.
‘As soon as you tell us why you were lying in wait for Benkei and Jack,’ demanded Miyuki.
‘A samurai … hired us,’ he gasped. ‘Told us … to look for someone in a multicoloured kimono … and a warrior in a straw hat with red-handled swords …’
‘What did this samurai look like?’ asked Jack, already fearing the answer.
‘Black armour … a golden helmet … the crest of a red sun …’
‘Kazuki!’ spat Saburo in disgust.
‘I bet you he’s recruited ronin all the way to Nagasaki,’ cursed Miyuki.
‘That means no place is safe,’ said Yori as they all turned to depart.
‘Wait … the arrow …’ groaned the ronin, clutching at his wounded shoulder. ‘Take it out … you promised.’
‘Of course!’ said Akiko. She ripped the shaft out of the man’s shoulder with a single sharp tug. The ronin gave a startled scream as the barbed arrowhead tore his flesh.
‘I need it back anyway,’ she remarked as the man passed out in shock.
45
Fumi-e
Ascending the foothills of Unzen-dake, Jack and his friends left the tea house behind and continued west. Pine trees clung to the slopes in an evergreen blanket that rapidly unravelled near the summit to expose a barren cone of rock. Clouds of sulphurous steam swirled around the craggy peak and Jack was glad to be skirting the volcano on this occasion rather than going over it. The thunderous mountain was like a permanent shadow in the sky and he was anxious to put as much distance between it and them as possible.
As they travelled further from the coast, the mountain air became cooler and less humid. So even when the road gave way to a rutted track, they continued to make good progress. With everyone keenly aware that Kazuki might have hired an army of ronin, they kept up their vigilance. Benkei guided from the front with Akiko on horseback as first lookout, Yori walked beside Jack, and Miyuki and Saburo took up the rear. But they encountered few other travellers along the route.
‘What will be the first thing you do when you return to England?’ asked Yori, almost taking two steps for every one of Jack’s.
‘Find my sister,’ replied Jack.
‘Of course, but what then?’
A smile curled Jack’s lips as almost forgotten memories of home crowded his heart. ‘I’ll eat beef pie dripping in gravy … Drink fresh cows’ milk … Listen to the bells of St Paul’s Cathedral … Walk across London Bridge … Explore Cheap-side market …’ His smile faded as a mournful look entered his eyes. ‘I’ll pay my respects at my mother’s grave … maybe bury my father’s memory there too.’ He sighed heavily at the thought. ‘Then I’ll go home to Limehouse with Jess, if we still have one after all this time.’
‘I’m sure you will,’ said Yori, who began to chew his lower lip as if he might cry. ‘Jack … I’ll miss you when you’re gone,’ he admitted.
Jack turned to his friend, surprised by such a personal expression of feelings.
‘You always stood by me at the Niten Ichi Ryū,’ Yori continued. ‘Believed in me, when no one else did.’
‘Sensei Yamada believed in you,’ Jack reminded him.
‘Yes, but he was my teacher. You’re my friend. And I only realized how great a friend you are to me, when you were gone … when we thought you’d drowned. I know you have to leave … but I don’t want you to.’
‘You could always come with me,’ said Jack, half serious.
‘Really?’ said Yori, the idea cheering him up no end.
‘That’s if you could stand two years at sea cramped into a dirty cabin with only a lice-ridden hammock to sleep on!’
‘Two years?’ replied Yori, the prospect not seeming to dampen his enthusiasm. ‘That’s a good deal of time for meditation.’
Jack laughed. In every cloud Yori somehow managed to find the silver lining.
The track emerged from the forest and cut across an upland plain. The plateau and its lower slopes were divided into a jumble of terraced paddy fields. A small village, no more than a cluster of flimsy straw buildings, sat amid the dried-out beds.
As they drew near, Jack and the others could hear the sounds of weeping.
Entering the village, they passed thatched farm huts in various states of collapse. A wooden handcart with a broken wheel was propped up against a ramshackle barn. A few scrawny chickens ran loose in the road. The place was clearly impoverished – and virtually deserted. There were signs of a struggle: several doors kicked in; a broken hoe; the remains of a fire, the ruin still smoking. And a large patch of blood-caked earth drying in the sun.
An old man in a ragged kimono was crumpled in a heap beside the entrance to a dilapidated house. Bony fingers covered his face as he sobbed loudly. At their approach, he glanced up fearfully, his half-starved body trembling all over. His face was worn with time and tears, his eyes bloodshot and sunken with grief.
Yori knelt beside him and asked, ‘What’s happened?’
Recognizing the robes of a monk, the old man calmed a little. He swallowed, seeming to find it hard to speak, then spat out a name as if it was poison. ‘Matsukura! The daimyo of Shimabara.’
‘A daimyo?’ queried Akiko, dismounting from her horse. ‘But he should be protecting farmers like you.’
The old man shook his head. ‘Our previous lord, Arima, certainly did. But he was exiled last year by the Shogun for his Christian beliefs. Now we’re under the rule of a tyrant … and he’s hell-bent on persecuting us Christian Japanese –’ The old man suddenly clammed up, realizing he may have said too much. ‘Who are you people?’
From what the old man had revealed about himself, Jack decided to take a risk and removed his hat. The man’s eyes widened like saucers when he saw Jack’s face.
‘You’re a foreigner! A … Christian?’ he asked, almost hopeful.
Jack nodded his head. ‘You can trust us. My name is Jack.’
‘I’m … Takumi,’ the old man hesitantly replied, and bowed his head.
Now he opened his heart to them.
‘You must have seen the monstrous new castle in Shimabara?’ he began, wiping his nose with his sleeve. ‘Matsukura cleared an entire Christian district just to make way for it. All those he evicted he forced into slavery to build his prideful fortress. And to pay for his folly he’s doubled the rice tax on all farmers … yet he still demands more!’
‘So his samurai came to take the rest of your rice?’ said Saburo.
‘No, we’ve very little left,’ sniffed Takumi. ‘It’s not enough for him to tax us to death. One of his patrols visited our village and we were forced to perform fumi-e.’
‘Fumi-e?’ questioned Jack.
Takumi nodded. ‘We must … trample … on a picture of our Lord Jesus Christ,’ he explained, his face contorting from horror to revulsion at the memory of such a sacrilegious act.
‘But why?’ asked Saburo.
‘To prove we aren’t Christians. If anyone – man, woman or child – refused, they were taken away to be executed on top of Unzen-dake.’
‘So why did they leave you behind?’
Takumi’s expression now became guilt-ridden. ‘I … I performed fumi-e.’
He rose to his knees, hands clasped in desperate prayer.
‘Oh Lord, please forgive me for my sins. I only did it to save my family …’ He
now turned to Jack, almost pleading. ‘But my daughter wouldn’t … and now she and my granddaughter are …’ He broke into wailing sobs.
‘I know your God will forgive you,’ said Yori, trying to console the broken man.
Takumi stared up at Jack again, his eyes wild and lost to grief.
‘Go now!’ he cried. ‘Leave this Hell, young foreigner, while you still have a chance.’
‘That’s good advice,’ said Benkei, already taking the lead down the road.
‘I can’t walk on by,’ said Jack. ‘Not when fellow Christians are suffering like this.’
‘A rescue mission? We can’t risk that,’ Miyuki argued. ‘Matsukura’s samurai must be on our trail by now. And this daimyo’s got an axe to grind with foreigners like you. With the Shogun and Kazuki already baying for your blood, you don’t need another enemy.’
Jack pointed to the hellish peak that had haunted him since their arrival. ‘But there are innocent women and children up there being tortured and killed, purely for their beliefs!’
Akiko looked torn by the situation, her heart and her mind at odds with one another. ‘You can’t save every Christian in Japan, Jack,’ she said eventually. ‘Our priority must be to get you safely to Nagasaki and on your way home. You’re the one Christian we can save.’
‘But isn’t this exactly what a samurai is supposed to stand up for? Honour, Benevolence and Rectitude.’
‘It’s not about bushido. It’s about what’s possible. There are just six of us against a daimyo and his entire army. What difference can we make?’
As harsh as the decision was, both Saburo and Miyuki nodded their heads in agreement with her.
Yori now piped up. ‘A tsunami once washed ten thousand fish up on the shores of Japan,’ he began. ‘A monk went down to the beach, saw the fish flapping on the sand, and one by one started to pick them up and throw them back into the sea. A samurai sitting nearby saw the monk and laughed at him. “Foolish monk! There’re miles of beach and thousands of fish. What difference will that make?” The monk picked up a gasping fish and tossed it back into the sea. With a knowing smile, he replied, “It made a difference to that one.”’
Young Samurai: The Ring of Sky Page 18
