Young Samurai 06 - The Ring of Fire (4 page)

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.

‘Yet he doesn’t scare you?’

‘
He?
’

Yoshi squinted at Jack, then turned on Toge. ‘You didn’t tell him?’

‘I … I was going to,’ stammered Toge. ‘But the moment never arose.’

The knot in Jack’s stomach tightened.

Sucking on his gums, Yoshi shook his head woefully. ‘Black Moon is the name we call the mountain bandit Akuma.’

The room seemed to darken at the very mention of his name, the farmers visibly trembling and looking to the shadows.

‘For this is the time he strikes,’ explained Yoshi. ‘On the first black moon of winter, when the night is at its darkest, he attacks our village and steals all our rice. We’re left starving and foraging for scraps.’

‘One man does all this?’ asked Jack. ‘But there’s a whole village of you.’

‘He rides with others.’

‘How many?’

‘Forty or so bandits.’

5

SEVEN SAMURAI

Jack didn’t know whether to laugh or run for his life. ‘Even the greatest samurai couldn’t defeat so many!’

‘I told you, Yoshi,’ said Junichi. ‘It’s futile. We should just hand our rice to Akuma. Get it over and done with.’

Yoshi ignored him, asking Jack, ‘Then how many
do
you need?’

‘Against
forty
?’ Jack couldn’t believe he was even contemplating the prospect. He thought back to his warrior training and the Battle of Osaka Castle. He’d witnessed the best samurai swordsmen handle five or six adversaries at once. Even more, if the enemy was disorganized or poorly trained, which was likely the case with bandits. ‘If the recruits are skilful and experienced, then perhaps … seven samurai.’

‘Seven!’ exclaimed Toge. ‘It took us weeks to find one. Where on earth will we get seven samurai?’

‘What about your
daimyo
?’ asked Jack, who knew that samurai lords were charged with protecting the citizens of their domains.

The farmers all snorted in derision.

‘
Daimyo
Ikeda doesn’t care about us,’ spat Junichi. ‘As long as he gets his rice tax that two-faced lord wouldn’t lift a finger to come to our aid.’

‘But if your rice has been stolen, how can you pay him?’

‘Akuma’s crafty,’ explained Yoshi. ‘He only raids us
after
the tax has been collected.’

‘This’ll be the third year in a row,’ stated a despondent Junichi. ‘We’ve had no option but to look for our own samurai. But it’s all been in vain. Our situation is hopeless.’

Jack had to agree. Outnumbered forty to one, the battle was lost before it had even begun. ‘I’m sorry,’ he admitted reluctantly. ‘But I can’t help you.’

Fury born out of despair seized Toge. He shook an angry fist at Jack and bawled, ‘You samurai are
all
the same! We work the fields, till the soil, grow the rice to fill your stomachs. So that you can go to war over your lords’ domains. Then the day we need you, where are
you
?’

‘What do you expect me to do?’ said Jack in his defence. ‘Fight off forty bandits on my own!’

‘Aren’t samurai meant to be courageous?’ snapped Toge.

‘Yes, but not suicidal.’

‘How I despise –’

‘Enough, Toge!’ interrupted Yoshi. ‘That’s no way to treat our guest. He came of his own free will. We must respect his decision to leave.’

The room fell into a sullen silence, leaving only the crackle of the fire and the bubble of the boiling rice.

Jack’s conscience was torn. He dearly wanted to help the farmers. As a samurai, he felt honour bound to defend them. But the stark truth was that, against so many enemies, he’d only get himself killed – and for nothing. The bandits would still seize the rice.

Tears welled up in Sora’s eyes and he began to sob. Wiping a dirty hand across his nose, he snivelled, ‘How will we feed our little ones?’