Young Samurai 06 - The Ring of Fire Read online

  ‘Please enjoy,’ said Toge through tight unsmiling lips.

  ‘Thank you,’ replied Jack, trying not to wolf down the food in one go. He couldn’t appear too desperate. No chopsticks were offered, so he used his fingers. As soon as the rice touched his tongue, however, Jack let out a grateful sigh and dug in.

  ‘You like?’ said Sora, his expression genuinely pleased.

  Jack nodded. Unable to hold back, he stuffed the rest into his mouth, the food disappearing in several ravenous gulps. The nourishing rice warmed his stomach and revived him a little.

  ‘Have some more,’ insisted Sora, ignoring the vexed look from Toge. The old man gestured to the girl, who collected Jack’s bowl and refilled it.

  With his immediate craving satisfied, Jack took his time with the second serving. He didn’t want to gorge himself and end up being sick.

  ‘So why do you need the services of a samurai?’ asked Jack, aware that he had to uphold his end of the bargain.

  ‘To guard our rice store,’ explained Toge, chewing steadily on his food as if each grain was his last.

  ‘That doesn’t seem like a task for a samurai warrior.’

  Quickly swallowing his rice, Toge replied, ‘Oh, I can assure you it is.’

  ‘Our rice is very valuable to us,’ added Sora. ‘It’s vital to our village’s survival and we can’t be too careful, especially during winter.’

  ‘Do you get many thieves then?’ asked Jack.

  ‘Once in a black moon,’ Toge replied, putting down his empty bowl.

  Jack considered this for a moment. ‘Is your village far from here?’

  While Toge explained its remote location upon the edge of the Okayama Plain, Jack noticed the farmers only had a few tiny mouthfuls of rice left, while his own bowl was still more than half full. He glanced over at the girl to see her picking at the dried scrapings from the pot. All of a sudden a wave of guilt consumed Jack as he realized he was eating all their provisions.

  Though he could have devoured another five bowls at least, Jack stood up and offered the girl his meal. She looked worried and confused. Lifting up the pot, she showed him it was empty and shook her head to say there was no more.

  ‘For you,’ said Jack, presenting her with his rice.

  The girl didn’t seem to understand his Japanese and Jack had to force the bowl into her hands. Now realizing his intention, she glanced towards Toge but didn’t wait for his permission. Flashing Jack a smile, she scampered off into the corner. The three farmers exchanged surprised looks, astonished at his gesture of generosity.

  ‘See! I knew he had a good heart for a samurai,’ whispered Sora behind his hand to the open-mouthed Kunio.

  ‘He could have given it to us, though,’ Kunio muttered under his breath.

  Jack caught all of this but pretended not to hear. He sat back down and pondered his options. The farmers had been honest with him and had sacrificed everything they had in the vague hope he might help them. As a samurai, bound by the code of bushido, Jack felt compelled to honour their sacrifice by at least considering their proposition.

  The job seemed simple and he was certainly skilled enough to deal with a few thieves. Moreover, with it being mid-winter and no provisions of his own, Jack had little chance of progressing any further on his trek to Nagasaki. He needed to recover his strength first. Yet this had to be weighed against the risk of delay and the Shogun’s samurai catching up with him – Kazuki and his gang couldn’t be too far behind either.

  ‘I’m on an important pilgrimage,’ Jack explained. ‘I wouldn’t be able to stay very long.’

  ‘No, that’s fine!’ replied Toge, seizing upon this slightest of hopes. ‘A month is all we need … until the next new moon.’

  Jack thought about this. The village was off the beaten track, so it was unlikely his enemies would discover him during that time. And there was nothing to stop him leaving as soon as the bad weather had passed and the roads were clear again.

  ‘What pay are you offering?’

  The three farmers looked sheepishly at one another. Toge coughed, then mumbled, ‘We’re farmers, so can only pay you in rice. Two meals a day, plus lodging.’

  Jack realized this would allow him to recover, but the pitiful pay didn’t solve his provision problems.

  When Toge saw their potential recruit wavering, he added quickly, ‘Three meals a day. And whatever supplies you need for your journey.’

  Sora, keen to seal the agreement, suggested, ‘Why not visit our village first? Then you can make your decision.’

  The offer had become very tempting. Although Jack knew the sensible decision was not to get involved at all, the practical solution to his predicament was to take the work. The question was whether Jack could entrust the farmers with his identity. But this matter could be dealt with when the issue arose. If they reacted badly, he stood a better chance of escaping a remote village than a bustling town.

  Besides, did he really have a choice? The only alternative to the farmers’ offer was fighting for his survival in Okayama, a hostile place swarming with samurai where he was guaranteed to be discovered and reported.

  Turning to the farmers, Jack announced, ‘I accept your offer.’

  3

  NEKO

  Sora and Kunio were delighted at the news. Toge was more subdued, but Jack put that down to his dour personality.

  ‘We’ll leave in the morning,’ said Toge, pulling a large straw mat from beneath the decking. He placed it beside Jack along with a bundle of straw.

  The three farmers huddled together by the opposite wall for warmth, leaving the entire deck to Jack. Since he was a samurai, the hierarchy of Japanese society meant Jack was given the best position and the greatest comfort.

  As he arranged the loose straw into a mattress, Jack spotted the girl out at the back, scrubbing away at the cooking pot in a trough of ice-encrusted water. Though she worked without complaint, Jack didn’t envy her lowly position.

  Pulling the mat over his weary body and his hat on to his face, Jack settled down to sleep. The three farmers began whispering to one another, but Jack was too exhausted to follow the conversation. With his hunger satisfied, he quickly drifted off …

  Jack snapped awake as he sensed someone removing his hat. His taijutsu training was instinctive – he grabbed the offending hand and twisted it into a lock. But his hat fell to the floor and he came face to face with the girl. She made no sound, despite the painful wristlock Jack had put her in. She merely gawped in utter amazement at his blond hair, blue eyes and white skin.

  Hoping he hadn’t hurt the girl, Jack released her from his grip.

  ‘Sorry, but you shouldn’t have done that,’ he whispered as she rubbed her wrist in the darkness.

  But she was more taken by his blond locks. Reaching out, she touched a stray curl and grinned in delight at its softness. Jack smiled back, relieved by her friendly reaction to his foreignness. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw the three farmers were still fast asleep, Kunio snoring as loudly as a pig.

  The girl returned his hat with a respectful bow, then silently padded over to her corner and curled up on the floor, her eyes never leaving his face. She didn’t appear afraid and, to Jack’s surprise, didn’t alert the farmers to her discovery.

  Perhaps she doesn’t know about the Shogun’s decree banishing all foreigners from Japan, thought Jack. Or the reward for capturing me, dead or alive.

  This gave Jack cause for hope. Maybe the farmers hadn’t heard the news either. If that was the case, then their village would make the perfect safe haven. Covering his head to go back to sleep, Jack prayed the farmers’ reaction to finding out he was a gaijin samurai would be as welcoming as hers.

  Bleary-eyed and stiff with cold, Jack emerged from the storehouse. The storm of the previous night had passed and the snow-covered landscape now glistened crystal-white in the early dawn sun. Breakfast that morning had been meagre – a thin miso soup with a cup of weak green tea – but at least it had b
een warming. Sora, apologetic as ever, had promised a hearty supper on arrival at their village.

  The three farmers were treating him with the same wary respect as the night before and Jack could only assume that the girl had kept quiet about their encounter. She now trailed behind, having been burdened with all the cooking utensils, as the five of them trekked out of town and across the Okayama Plain.

  With the snow knee-deep, their going was slow and arduous. Jack envied the farmers’ thick straw boots, since the socks and sandals he wore provided little protection from the icy conditions. He stamped his feet as he walked, trying to force some blood back into them, before noticing that the poor girl was barefoot. She trudged on through the snow, bent over with the pack’s weight, her breath puffing out in little white clouds. No longer did Jack feel quite so sorry for himself.

  ‘Are you sure we can trust him?’ whispered Toge, who forged ahead with Sora. In the still winter air, his voice carried. And Jack, whose hearing was acute thanks to his sensitivity training at the Niten Ichi Ryū, had no trouble eavesdropping on their conversation.

  ‘We have to,’ replied Sora, his tone despondent. ‘He’s our only choice.’

  ‘We don’t even know his name,’ Toge hissed.

  ‘Samurai can be rude like that. They think all farmers are beneath them. Yet where would they be without us, I ask?’

  ‘But he won’t even show his face. There’s something odd about him –’

  At this point, Kunio shuffled up to Jack’s side, interrupting his concentration.

  ‘Winter’s harsh this year,’ he said, rubbing his hands for warmth.

  Nodding, Jack tried to catch the rest of the farmers’ conversation, but Kunio continued chatting.

  ‘Where have you come from?’ he asked.

  ‘Kyoto,’ Jack replied.

  ‘Is it as beautiful as they say? I hear the temples are made of gold and silver!’

  ‘It’s true,’ said Jack.

  Kunio’s eyes went wide with delight and Jack recalled his own amazement when Akiko had shown him the Silver and Golden Pavilions of Ginkaku-ji and Kinkaku-ji.

  ‘So are you on a musha … musha …’ The boy sought for the correct phrase.

  ‘Musha shugyō,’ Jack prompted, referring to the warrior pilgrimage that many samurai embarked upon to test their sword skills in life-and-death duels.

  ‘That’s it! Have you fought anyone yet?’

  Jack thought about the time he’d been tricked into a duel with Sasaki Bishamon, a fearsome samurai on a quest for glory. He’d almost been impaled on the man’s sword.

  ‘Yes, I have,’ replied Jack, an involuntary shiver running through him at the memory.

  Kunio stared in awe of him. ‘I’ve never met a real warrior before.’ He glanced down at the swords on Jack’s hip and became mesmerized by the red silk handles. ‘They’re beautiful,’ he said, reaching out to touch them.

  ‘And deadly,’ added Jack, grasping the hilt of his katana in warning.

  ‘Yes, they must be very sharp,’ agreed Kunio, smiling awkwardly as he snatched his hand back.

  Wanting to change the topic from himself, Jack asked, ‘Tell me, who’s the girl?’

  Kunio glanced over his shoulder as if he’d forgotten she was there. ‘Her name’s Neko. We call her that because she acts like a cat.’

  Jack observed Neko struggling on valiantly through the snow. He wanted to help her with her load, but he realized his status as a samurai prevented him taking on such menial tasks. He had to act according to his role and couldn’t risk raising any further suspicion among the farmers.

  Nonetheless, Jack demanded of Kunio, ‘Why aren’t you helping her?’

  Kunio’s face creased in bafflement. ‘Why should I?’

  ‘Because you’re stronger than her.’

  Grinning, Kunio puffed his chest out at the compliment. ‘True, but I wouldn’t want to tire myself out. It’s a long way to Tamagashi.’

  Jack shook his head in disbelief. He wondered if the girl had any say in this. ‘Neko doesn’t talk much, does she?’

  Kunio laughed. ‘Of course not. She’s a deaf-mute and stupid.’

  Jack’s heart went out to the girl. Now he knew why she hadn’t told the farmers about him. But she still could have woken them. Neko had proved herself an unlikely ally.

  Neko looked up and caught Jack’s eye. She grinned slyly at him, then tapped her nose as if to say his identity was her little secret. Jack realized the girl might not have all her senses, but she was tough, tenacious and certainly not stupid.

  4

  BLACK MOON

  Tamagashi village was a ramshackle collection of thatched houses perched on the edge of the Okayama Plain. To its north rose an immense mountain range that dominated the skyline and seemed to squash the settlement by its very size. Fanning out to the west was a sprawling cedar forest, while to the south a patchwork of paddy fields, barely visible beneath the snow, traced their way on to the plain. As they approached from the flatlands of the east, Jack couldn’t see anyone working the fields and the village appeared to be abandoned.

  Passing a couple of rundown farmhouses and an old mill, they came to a wide fast-flowing river. The wooden bridge creaked uneasily as the five of them made their way across, following the main track beside some paddy fields and into the village itself. Skirting a large pond, they entered the central square. Here, Jack had an even greater sense of a ghost town. No one greeted their arrival, but he noticed shutters and doors opening a crack, eyes peeking fearfully out at the mysterious samurai.

  ‘What’s everyone afraid of?’ asked Jack.

  ‘Nothing,’ replied Toge, a little too quickly.

  Smiling awkwardly, Sora explained, ‘They’re busy preparing their supper, that’s all.’

  Before Jack could ask any more, Toge hurried them on. ‘The head of the village is waiting to welcome you.’

  Striding up a muddy slope to the largest house, the three farmers took off their boots and stepped on to the veranda. Jack slipped off his sandals and joined them, but Neko was waved away by Toge to return the cooking pots to Sora’s wife.

  ‘One moment please,’ said Toge, bowing to Jack.

  Knocking on the farmhouse door, he then entered with Sora, leaving Jack and Kunio to wait outside.

  ‘What do you think?’ asked Kunio, gesturing with pride at his village.

  ‘Very … peaceful,’ replied Jack. Though in truth, the depressing silence unnerved him.

  Compared to the ninja village, Tamagashi was clearly a lot poorer and far less organized. The farmers’ homes were dotted haphazardly around, most needed re-thatching and some even looked to be on the verge of collapse. Although the head farmer’s house was the grandest in the village, it was still no palace. The wooden decking was rough and warped, its walls uneven and gapped.

  ‘My family’s house is that one by the pond,’ said Kunio, pointing to a small lopsided building.

  As he went on explaining who lived in each of the houses, Jack was more drawn to what was occurring within the farmhouse.

  ‘You’ve been gone three weeks and come back with just one samurai!’ exclaimed a man’s voice in outrage.

  ‘No other samurai agreed to our request,’ replied Toge.

  ‘So where’s all the rice we gave you?’

  ‘Any ronin we did attract simply ate our food and left,’ he explained bitterly. ‘As soon as we told them about the job and what it paid, they scorned us for wasting their time. Or else were too scared.’

  ‘But you took enough rice to feed a small army!’

  ‘Okayama isn’t a safe place,’ a grieved Sora admitted. ‘Much of our rice was stolen. That deaf Neko makes a useless guard.’

  ‘You idiots! What are we going to do now?’

  The rasping voice of an old man cut in. ‘We have one. That is a start.’

  ‘Yoshi, with all due respect, what use is one samurai?’

  ‘Let’s meet the man and we shall find out.’

/>   The door creaked open and Sora’s hangdog face appeared.

  ‘Come in!’ he said with forced cheerfulness. ‘Our village head and elder are pleased you’re here.’

  Wondering what he’d got himself into, Jack stepped through the doorway. The room was dim, the tang of woodsmoke heavy in the air. There was no furniture, just a few clay pots for storage and a water butt in one corner. Hanging from a chain, a pot of rice boiled over an open-hearth fire in the centre of the room. Although the place was austere, the warmth of the hearth was welcoming, and Jack was invited to take prime position next to it.

  Toge sat opposite him beside two men. In the gloom, Jack’s face was heavily in shadow beneath his hat, so he risked a glance up. One of the men was middle-aged, with a permanent frown and stubble like a harvested field left untended. The other was ancient, a wizened old man with spidery white hair and eyes screwed up so tight they were barely visible. The faces of all three farmers appeared gaunt and haunted in the flickering light of the fire.

  ‘I’m Junichi, the head of this village,’ announced the middle-aged man, with a bow of his head. ‘This is Yoshi, the elder.’

  The old man grunted, but being stiff with age he couldn’t bow.

  Jack returned Junichi’s greeting with his own bow. As he rose, he caught sight of Neko peering through a gap in the rear wall, her eyes avidly following the proceedings.

  ‘We thank you for coming to our rescue in our time of plight,’ continued Junichi. ‘The village is in need of a brave samurai such as yourself. I can only apologize the reward is so little, but the glory and honour will be great – and worthy of a samurai.’

  The farmer’s grave tone gave Jack an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach. ‘Surely, it’s just a matter of guarding your rice store from a thief or two …’

  The old man, Yoshi, cleared his throat. ‘You’re aware of Black Moon?’

  Jack nodded, familiar with the Japanese term for a new moon. He was willing to stay the month, as agreed.