Young Samurai: The Ring of Sky (27 page)

‘I lost your trail after that,’
admitted Miyuki. ‘I guessed you were going to Kumamoto; it was the most obvious
crossing point for Nagasaki. But there was no sign of you there, even after a few days
of searching.’

‘You must have gone ahead of
me,’ said Jack, thinking of the period he and Benkei had taken refuge with
Shiryu.

‘That’s the conclusion I came
to, so we began to double back. We were taking the road out of Kumamoto, when Yori
spotted Akiko’s horse and we bumped into Benkei, who was “looking
after” your belongings.’

She raised her eyebrows dubiously at such a
notion, but Benkei brushed aside her insinuation with a wave of his hand. ‘And
lucky they did,
nanban
, otherwise your friends would never have found you in
time. Nor would they have been introduced to Okuni and her
kabuki
troupe when
they arrived in Kumamoto to perform for the
daimyo
.’

‘I have to admit that was a stroke of
good fortune,’ said Miyuki. ‘We’d never have got inside that castle
otherwise.’

‘We have a lot to thank them for,’
said Jack, watching Junjun dance across the deck.

Her performance came to an end and the
passengers broke into rapturous applause. Okuni and her dancers were bestowed with so
many tokens of appreciation that their passage on-board the ferry was paid for twice
over.

Akiko glanced wistfully across the bay
towards Shimabara. ‘You’re almost home free now, Jack.’

‘Not quite,’ he replied, a
shadow falling across his face. ‘Kazuki’s still out there.’

Yori’s eyes widened in shock.
‘But I thought he’d given up. Especially after almost dying in that
flood.’

‘That only made him more
determined,’ said Jack. ‘Kazuki’s vowed on his life to hunt me
down … and kill me.’

For a moment no one said anything, the only
noise being the flap of the sail, the wash of waves and the splash of oars.

Akiko turned to Miyuki. ‘Did you come
across Kazuki’s path while tracking Jack?’

Miyuki shook her head.

‘Then he’s ahead of us and
waiting to pounce.’

Miyuki’s gaze dropped to Jack’s
injured hand. ‘Did Kazuki do
that
to you?’ she asked, her dark eyes
narrowing in anger.

‘No, that was Sensei Kyuzo,’
Jack replied, and told them about his harrowing encounter. Yori could hardly believe a
teacher of the
Niten Ichi Ryū
would commit such a betrayal. And when Jack came
to the moment the Akita dog ate his fingertip, Saburo’s seasickness took a turn
for the worse and he heaved over the ferry’s side.

Miyuki could barely contain her rage.
‘So long as I live, I won’t let
anyone
harm you again.’

‘Nor will I,’ stated Akiko, with
equal determination.

‘None of us will,’ assured
Yori.

Jack didn’t know what to say. Once
again, he was overwhelmed by his friends’ loyalty and courage.

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The ferry docked at Shimabara just as the
sun reached its zenith. The voyage had been smooth and for once uneventful, giving Jack
and his friends the opportunity to recover from the night’s fraught escape. After
a much-needed breakfast of cold rice and dried fish from their supplies, Jack had slept
deep and long, comforted by the familiar pitch and roll of the boat. His friends had
taken turns to keep watch, but now, as they disembarked, everyone was on full alert to
negotiate the unknown threats of the bustling port.

Akiko guided Snowball down the gangplank and
resaddled him, while Jack and the others helped the
kabuki
troupe load their
belongings back on to the handcarts. Once everyone was ready, they headed for the
checkpoint. The port was teeming with travellers, merchants and dockhands, the hectic
atmosphere providing useful cover as they approached the barrier.

Four harbour guards were stationed at the
exit, meticulously checking permits.

Jack braced himself for another performance.
As the line cleared, Okuni stepped up and introduced herself and her troupe. Noting the
guards’ obvious interest in the arrival of
so many girls, Okuni
offered them front-row seats at the
kabuki
show that evening. The subtle bribe
brought broad smiles to the men’s faces and they welcomed the troupe through the
checkpoint unquestioned.

‘Easy as falling off a log!’
said Benkei, giving Jack a wink.

Jack wished he shared his friend’s
confidence. But he knew from bitter experience that the moment they dropped their guard
would be the moment an enemy attacked. And the smouldering volcano of Unzen-dake did
nothing to raise Jack’s spirits. It loomed over Shimabara like a brooding monster.
Trapped between the volcano and the full glare of the sun, the town sweltered in the
summer heat, the ocean breeze doing little to alleviate the discomfort. Townsfolk wafted
to and fro along the main road, fluttering their fans like a flock of frantic
butterflies. Samurai stood on every street corner, observing the passers-by and slowly
broiling in their armour. Jack wondered if the intense heat had anything to do with
being so close to a volcano.

‘I’ve got a bad feeling about
this place,’ whispered Jack to Miyuki.

‘Me too,’ she replied, anxiously
thumbing the hilt of her hidden knife.

As they neared the centre, the town suddenly
disappeared into rubble, every building razed to the ground. At first, Jack thought the
volcano must have erupted, a lava flow destroying this section of the port. But on
closer inspection he could see the huge swathe of land had been cleared – houses and
whole streets purposefully demolished to make way for a new construction.

A castle.

Samurai guards were stationed all over the
site, keeping a watchful eye on hundreds of men, women and children, all in ragged
clothes. They laboured like a swarm of ants over the broken ground. Bare-chested men,
smeared in dirt and sweat, dug out a vast moat, while exhausted women and sunburnt
children hauled out endless buckets of earth. The trench was wide and deep enough to
dry-dock a Spanish galleon and extended for at least a mile northwards and half a mile
inland. Within its vast boundaries, immense stone walls were being laid boulder by
boulder and watchtowers built at key strategic points. At the heart of the site was a
partially constructed fortress. Made of pure white stone, it stood in stark contrast to
the black-and-gold keep of Kumamoto.

‘How can a small port warrant a castle
this size?’ exclaimed Saburo, gasping in disbelief.

‘The
daimyo
must be power
hungry and very rich!’ said Benkei.

‘And a ruthless ruler,’ added
Yori as he spotted two samurai beating a man who’d dropped his shovel. ‘The
workers are being treated like slaves.’

‘We need to get out of here as soon as
we can,’ urged Akiko.

No one argued with her. They hurriedly
followed Okuni and her troupe to a field on the outskirts of Shimabara, where the
performers pitched their tents. Within one tent, out of sight of prying eyes, Jack,
Akiko and Miyuki washed off their make-up and changed back into their own clothes. The
cloying heat of the day made it impractical for Akiko to wear full armour, so she kept
to a simple breastplate and a pair of shoulder guards over her dark-green silk kimono.
The rest of her armour she stored in Snowball’s saddlebags. Miyuki wore an
unassuming cotton
yukata
, dyed indigo and tied off with a
plain white
obi
, to blend in with the local people. As she wrapped her belt
around her waist, she took care to conceal several
shuriken
within the folds.
Hidden in the sleeve pocket she stowed her knife, and into her black hair she slipped a
decorative brass pin, the tip sharpened into a lethal point.

‘How do I look?’ she asked Jack,
putting the final touches to her hair.

‘Deadly,’ he replied with a grin
and they both laughed.

At that moment, Akiko returned from packing
her horse. ‘I hope I’m not interrupting anything,’ she said, glancing
uncomfortably between the two of them.

‘No, of course not,’ replied
Jack, sensing she was upset.

‘The others are ready to go,’
she added, then abruptly left the tent.

Jack didn’t know what to make of
Akiko’s uncharacteristic brusqueness. ‘We’d better make a move,’
he urged Miyuki.

Picking up her
ninjatō
and stashing
it in her bag, along with her
shinobi shozoku
outfit, she replied,
‘I’ll see you outside,’ then strode from the tent, a smile curling her
lips.

Jack watched her leave. Akiko and Miyuki
were like two sides of a coin: made of the same metal, but with different characters.
They were both loyal, courageous and highly skilled warriors. Each was quick,
intelligent and shrewd. But Akiko’s true nature was gentle, caring and
warm-hearted; whereas Miyuki was more playful, spirited and fiery in her attitude to
others. He valued both their friendships and dearly wished they’d become firm
friends with one another too – not that such a thing was likely between a samurai and a
ninja.

‘Come on,
nanban
!’ called
Benkei. ‘Or are you still doing your make-up?’

Slipping on his sandals, glad they now
fitted like his blue kimono, Jack picked up his pack and swords. As he eased the
red-handled
katana
and
wakizashi
into his
obi
, he felt a
surge of strength and confidence return to him. Without these Shizu swords, he realized
he’d felt vulnerable and open to attack. But now he was a warrior again, ready for
the final push to Nagasaki.

Adjusting the straw hat on his head, he
emerged from the tent. Okuni, Junjun and the rest of the dancers were waiting to say
their farewells.

Jack bowed low. ‘I appreciate the
great risk you took for us.’

‘And we appreciate you risking your
life for Junjun,’ replied Okuni, bowing in return. ‘Another time you must
show me that jig of yours. I’m keen to include it in our show as a comic
interlude.’

Jack didn’t know whether to take that
as a compliment or an insult to his dancing ability, but after all she’d done, he
didn’t mind either way. ‘Are you sure you want to? If your girls all looked
like me, you’d never get any bookings!’

Okuni laughed, then turned to Benkei.
‘If you want to stay, there’s a place in our troupe for you.’

Benkei appeared torn by indecision. He
looked longingly at Junjun – who returned his gaze – before regretfully shaking his
head. ‘I promised to guide Jack to Nagasaki. And I’m a man of my
word.’

Junjun’s eyes welled slightly with
tears as she nodded in acknowledgement of his duty.

‘And I, a woman of mine,’ replied
Okuni, noting the exchange with a smile. ‘So the offer is always open.’

Bowing their farewells, Benkei led Jack and
his friends out of the camp and along the main road. With one last look back in
Junjun’s direction, he forged ahead, yelling, ‘Nagasaki, here we
come!’

On the edge of town, the road divided in
two.

‘Which way?’ Akiko asked Benkei,
bringing her horse to a halt.

‘We can take either,’ he
replied. ‘North follows the coastline round the peninsula. It’s flat, but
the route’s much longer. West skirts the base of the volcano. It’s tougher
going, but only two days’ travel at the most.’

‘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.

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