The Way Of The Dragon (26 page)

Jack and the others lowered their swords with relief, glad to have survived the raid.

But the cost of victory had been high. Sensei and young samurai of both schools lay bleeding and dying in the courtyard, while all around the
Niten Ichi Ryū
continued to burn.

The dawn sun bled through the smoke-laden sky, staining the clouds a watery red. A solemn silence hung over the
Niten Ichi Ryū
as the survivors tended to the wounded and salvaged what they could from the burnt-out buildings.

Jack kicked aside the smouldering ruins that had been the
Shishi-no-ma
. His room had been completely destroyed, his
bokken
,
bonsai
and clothes ravaged by the fire. For once he was glad Dragon Eye had the
rutter
. It would have been burnt to a cinder otherwise. But now he possessed nothing save the kimono on his back and Masamoto’s
daishō
.

Crouching down, he spotted a charred scrap of paper buried in the ash. Pulling it free from the blackened
inro
case, he held the remains of a child’s drawing. His sister’s scribble of their family. The picture had been obliterated. Jack let the scrap fall back into the dying embers.

He could no longer hold out hope of returning home to Jess. Not when a war threatened to consume Japan. It wasn’t just the fact that battles would bar his way. The
Niten Ichi Ryū
had been attacked and, having vowed to follow the Way of the Warrior, it was his duty to defend his school’s honour. Bound by the code of
bushido
, his loyalty to Masamoto and his friends had to take priority over his long-held dream of going home.

The
inro
that had contained the picture was all but destroyed. Tossing the case aside, he heard a rattle as it landed. Picking it up again, he found Akiko’s pearl inside. Miraculously, it had survived the fire. Allowing himself a weary smile, he slipped the precious gift inside the folds of his
obi
. It would serve as a reminder of everything that was good about Japan and why he must fight to protect it.

He was about to return to his friends, when he noticed a glint of steel. Brushing aside the ash, he uncovered the
tantō
he’d taken from the ninja in the bamboo forest. The lacquered
saya
had cracked under the heat, but the knife itself was undamaged. In fact, the fire seemed only to have further tempered the steel, for Jack’s little finger was dripping blood. He must have cut it while clearing away the embers. Very carefully, Jack tucked the demon blade into his belt.

‘Jack!’ called Yori, scurrying over.

Rising slowly to his feet, Jack greeted his friend. He felt sore all over, his muscles bruised and battered and his neck aching from his near-hanging experience. But he was one of the fortunate ones. At least he could walk.

Yori, his face streaked black with smoke and dried tears, handed him a small round bundle wrapped in a piece of cloth.

‘This is yours,’ he said proudly.

Opening it, Jack found himself staring at his Daruma Doll. ‘It was lying on top of the kimono I used to collect the weapons,’ Yori explained. ‘I know the wish it contains means a lot to you, so I rescued it along with your swords.’

‘Thank you,’ replied Jack, patting his friend on the shoulder. ‘But I don’t think this Daruma Doll works. It’s been nearly three years since I made that wish.’

‘Daruma wishes
do
come true. You can’t give up hope, Jack.’

Yori’s pleading eyes looked up at him. Jack realized his friend was barely holding himself together. The sudden attack and the brutality of the fighting had left him shocked and on the verge of falling apart. Yori was looking to Jack for reassurance.

‘We survived, didn’t we?’ replied Jack, smiling. ‘And it was your loyalty that saved me. My mother used to say, “Where there are friends, there’s hope.” You’re a true friend, Yori.’

Touched by his words, Yori bowed his head. ‘It’s my honour.’

Crossing the courtyard, they passed a group of
Yagyu
students guarded by samurai from the
Yoshioka Ryū
. Patched up but looking thoroughly defeated, Nobu and Hiroto were among the prisoners, their heads hung in shame. Jack noticed Kazuki was not with them, the traitor having escaped amid the confusion of battle. News of his defection had spread rapidly among the students. Masamoto had been furious to discover the truth of Kazuki’s father’s treachery. Vowing to punish Oda-san, he’d sent a patrol in search of his son. But so far Kazuki had evaded capture.

Beside the main gate, the bodies of the fallen had been gathered for cremation at various temples. Akiko stood nearby.

‘You go on, I’ll join you shortly,’ said Jack to Yori.

His friend nodded in understanding and headed inside the
Chō-no-ma
.

As Jack approached Akiko, she looked up, her eyes red from crying.

‘I may not have liked her, but she didn’t deserve to die like this.’

Akiko gazed down at the lifeless Moriko.

‘It was all my fault,’ she sniffed, her voice cracking slightly.

‘No, it wasn’t,’ Jack insisted, trying not to look at the charred corpse. ‘You didn’t know the building was about to collapse. Besides, if you hadn’t knocked her out with your
jindou
, she would have killed us both.’

‘But is this what war
really
means?’ asked Akiko, waving a despairing hand at the pile of dead bodies. ‘None of our training prepared us for
this
.’

Jack understood what she meant. They’d been so focused on the training, they’d never really thought about the consequences – of actually taking a person’s life. But the onset of war had forced them into using their skills. From this day forth, they would have to face up to their responsibilities as samurai.

‘You told me once that being a samurai means “to serve”,’ said Jack. ‘That our duty is to our Emperor, our
daimyo
and our family. I didn’t understand at the time, but I now know what duty means. As samurai, we may have to kill, or be killed, if we want to protect those we serve and love.’

‘You’re right, Jack,’ sighed Akiko. ‘It doesn’t make it any easier, though.’

‘No, but it’s a peace worth fighting for.’

And with those words, Jack realized he’d willingly lay down his life for Japan and those he loved.

*   *   *

Inside the
Chō-no-ma
, injured young samurai lay upon the cleared tables, Sensei Yamada and Sensei Kano administering to their wounds. The other teachers were in conference with Masamoto and Yoshioka in the Hall of the Phoenix.

‘Wait till our parents hear about this!’ exclaimed Taro as Jack and Akiko approached their friends.

Taro stood over his brother. Saburo was laid out on a table, his shoulder bound in bandages, a patch of blood oozing through.

‘Leave him alone, Taro,’ said Jack, rushing to Saburo’s defence. ‘He’s been through enough as it is.’

‘Jack, you misunderstand me. He’ll be a hero in their eyes. Saburo sacrificed himself for another samurai.’

Saburo grinned proudly, ‘And I’ll have a real battle scar!’

‘You need to rest,’ insisted Kiku, helping him sip some water and wiping his brow.

‘Has anyone found out what’s going on yet?’ said Yori.

Yamato nodded. ‘A student from the
Yoshioka Ryū
told me there have been surprise attacks all over the city.
Daimyo
Kamakura has begun his rebellion.’

‘But why did the
Yoshioka Ryū
help us?’ asked Jack.

‘Yoshioka-san is a loyal subject of
daimyo
Takatomi,’ explained Taro with an air of authority. ‘His duty to his lord outweighs any personal grievance against Masamoto-sama. He was most likely commanded to come to our aid. Besides, by rescuing us, Yoshioka-san has regained the status he lost in his duels with Masamoto-sama.’

The
shoji
by the head table flew open and Masamoto strode in, flanked by his sensei. All the students stopped what they were doing and knelt down. Masamoto took his place in the centre of the dais, put his swords to one side and fixed his students with a stern gaze. The scarring down his face throbbed an angry red and there was a vicious cut above his right eye. Sensei Hosokawa was beside him, a tourniquet wrapped round his left bicep. A tense silence fell over the hall.

‘
WAR
has been declared,’ stated Masamoto.

Still in shock from the battle, the students could only stare back in numb horror. Yori glanced nervously at Jack. His worst fear had come true.

‘No longer is
daimyo
Kamakura targeting just foreigners and Christians. He is attacking any
daimyo
and their samurai who will not submit to his rule, whether they are sympathetic to foreigners or not. We believe
daimyo
Kamakura has organized coordinated strikes across Japan. The city of Nagoya has fallen, the Tokaido Road to its north is in his control and his army is marching south as we speak.

‘We’ve received word that samurai loyal to the Council and Hasegawa Satoshi, our ruler-in-waiting, are combining forces at Osaka Castle. From there, they intend to face down and destroy this enemy of the Emperor. By the order of
daimyo
Takatomi, we leave for Osaka today.’

It was midday by the time all the preparations were complete. Horses were saddled, supplies were gathered and samurai armed. Not all the
Niten Ichi Ryū
students were going. The younger trainees were being sent back to their families, while the wounded would remain at the school until fit to fight. Those destined for battle now stood in formation in the courtyard, awaiting the command to leave.

‘
Gambette
,’ said Saburo, wishing them luck. Despite Kiku’s protests, he’d insisted on coming to say goodbye to his friends. He bowed stiffly.

Kiku, who’d volunteered to stay behind to look after the wounded, wiped a tear from her eye and bowed too. Akiko, Yamato and Yori returned the bow. Saburo glanced over at Jack, then pulled him into an awkward hug. Wincing from the pain in his shoulder, Saburo blurted, ‘Keep your head down. Don’t do anything stupid. Watch out for ninja. Make sure you eat all your rations -‘

‘I’ll miss you too, Saburo,’ said Jack sincerely. Then, with a grin, ‘I’ll have no one to take an arrow for me now!’

Saburo laughed. Then he pulled away, the smile on his face fading into sorrow. ‘Take great care, my friend.’

‘
OSAKA
AND
VICTORY!’ shouted Sensei Hosokawa, signalling for the column of young samurai to begin marching out of the school gates.

Shouldering his pack, Jack wondered if he’d ever return to the
Niten Ichi Ryū
again. He gazed around at the mighty
Butokuden
where he’d defeated the sword and been pummelled every day as Sensei Kyuzo’s
uke
in
taijutsu
; at the beautiful
Chō-no-ma
where he’d been introduced to the dubious pleasure of grilled eel’s liver and celebrated New Year; at the Southern Zen Garden, his favourite place to relax and be alone with his thoughts, and where he’d first learnt the archery skills of
kyujutsu
from Sensei Yosa; at the
Butsuden
in which Sensei Yamada had set his impossible
koans
and once shown him the legendary butterfly kick; and finally at the burnt shell of the
Shishi-no-ma
that had been his home for the past three years.

He recalled how overawed he’d been the first day of his arrival at the school. How terrifying and invincible the students had appeared. He remembered lying on his
futon
in his tiny bedroom, alone in an alien land, the prey of a one-eyed ninja, and feeling like a lamb going to the slaughter.

Heading off to war now, he didn’t feel much different. Except this time, he knew how to fight. He may have arrived as a lost English boy, but he was leaving the
Niten Ichi Ryū
as a trained samurai warrior.

After three days’ hard march the students arrived in Osaka, the political and economic centre of Japan. Jack hadn’t known what to expect from this great city. But, like Kyoto, it was a long way from the realities of English urban life with its putrid stench of dunghills and tanneries, its potholed roads and its gangs of footpads and wild youths.

Osaka was teeming with people who politely bowed as they passed. The shops and houses were all staggeringly clean. The roads were wide, swept and free of rubbish. Even the air was fresh.

But nothing could prepare Jack for Osaka Castle.

Dominating the skyline was a fortress of unimaginable size. The Tower of London looked pitiful in comparison, and Jack thought several Hampton Courts could fit within its walls. Soaring up from the centre of the castle was a
donjon
– the main keep – eight stories high, with the walls painted a stark heron white and curved roofs overlapping at each level, their green tiles decorated with gleaming golden gables.

As they passed through the outskirts of the city, the column of young samurai joined other troops heading towards the castle, until there was a steady stream flowing up the main thoroughfare. They approached a gigantic stone gateway set into a towering wall of interlocking battlements and bastions. The portcullis was raised and the huge iron-plated door opened to welcome their arrival.

Jack’s ears were assaulted by the tramping of hundreds of marching feet as they crossed the long wooden drawbridge that spanned a wide moat. Glancing to his right, Jack noticed the outer defensive rampart stretched for at least a mile before it turned north. Its sheer walls sloped directly into the waters of the moat and appeared unscalable. Each block of stone in its construction was taller and wider than he was and had to weigh as much as ten cannon combined. Along the top, like the backbone of a dragon, ran a series of turrets that faced the wide, open plain of Tenno-ji to the south. As they passed through another gateway, equally formidable, Jack was astonished to discover the walls were several metres thick.