Young Samurai 06 - The Ring of Fire (3 page)

Shaking his head, he walked away.

‘
Please
 … hear us out,’ the old man insisted, an imploring hangdog expression on his wrinkled face. ‘At least join us for supper. We’ve freshly cooked rice.’

Jack’s stomach growled at the thought. And the old man’s desperation appeared genuine. What had he to lose simply by listening? His need for food outweighing his better judgement, Jack agreed. ‘But I’m not making any promises,’ he added.

‘We understand,’ said their leader, bowing in acknowledgement. ‘Come this way.’

Jack followed the three men down a side street to a dilapidated storehouse at the edge of town. His senses on high alert, he glanced around for telltale signs of an ambush – footprints leading to a darkened alley, snow disturbed from a rooftop, a building that could conceal a surprise attack. But if there were enemies around, they were well hidden.

The sour-faced man pushed open a rickety door and entered first. Jack paused at the threshold, trying to assess the danger within. But it was pitch-black inside and all he detected was the stench of rotting straw.

‘My apologies,’ said the old man, ushering him meekly in. ‘But this is the only lodging we can afford.’

A stub of a candle flickered into life, its weak flame illuminating a spartan room with a hard-packed earthen floor and a rough wooden deck for sleeping.

The young man closed the door behind them as Jack was invited by the leader to be seated upon the raised platform. Unshouldering his pack, Jack removed his swords and placed them, close at hand, by his side. The three men knelt before him on the dirt floor.

‘My name is Toge,’ said the leader, bowing his head. ‘We’re farmers from Tamagashi village. This here is Sora –’ the old man bowed – ‘and the boy is Kunio.’

Offering a gap-toothed grin, Kunio prostrated himself before Jack. Peering from beneath the brim of his hat, Jack now saw Kunio wasn’t much older than he was. Sixteen or seventeen, at most.

Jack nodded his head in acknowledgement, deciding not to reveal his own name. Until he knew these people’s intentions, he had to be cautious, but he didn’t wish to lie to them either. An awkward silence fell and the three farmers began to fidget uncomfortably as their anxiety grew at this mysterious samurai.

‘Your rice is just coming,’ said Sora quickly, gesturing towards the far corner of the storehouse.

Only then did Jack notice a fourth person in the room; his fatigue had clearly impaired his warrior awareness. He reached for his
wakizashi
, then, on closer inspection, checked himself. Hidden in the shadows, a girl crouched over the dying embers of a small fire. Scooping out a portion of rice from a battered pot, she scurried over to Jack and presented him with the bowl.

Little more than a waif in a tattered
kimono
, the fourteen-year-old girl had a tangled bob of black hair and a round pale face that appeared pretty beneath the many layers of grime. As she looked to Jack, he noticed her cat-like eyes constantly flitting between him and the farmers, revealing a lively spirit behind her unkempt condition.

Toge batted his hand impatiently at the girl and she returned to the pot. Working silently, she served out three more bowls of rice and handed these to the farmers.

‘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 been 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.