Young Samurai: The Ring of Sky (39 page)

The crowd fell silent as the executioner
held the torch over the pyre, awaiting the
bugyō
’s command to set the
traitors ablaze. Not wanting his last moments to be consumed with his rival’s
gloating face, Jack turned to Akiko. She held his gaze, her eyes no longer brimming with
tears but with love and friendship. In those final dying seconds, Jack felt a moment of
peace.

The
bugyō
drew in a breath to issue
his command. A startled cry from the back of the crowd distracted him as a horse
thundered on to the quayside, scattering people aside. The Shogun’s samurai parted
for it to gallop into the centre of the arena and a cloaked messenger leapt from its
back.

‘STOP!’ he bellowed at the
executioner.

‘What is the meaning of this?’
demanded the
bugyō
, striding towards him.

The messenger presented the magistrate with
a scroll bearing the formal seal of the Shogun. The
bugyō
snatched it from his
grasp and broke the wax seal.

The baying crowd had become deathly quiet.
Only the lapping of the waves and the crackle of the burning torch
could be heard. Jack and his friends waited with bated breath, their lives hanging in
the balance.

The
bugyō
looked up, stunned.

In a dry voice, he declared, ‘With
great sorrow and regret, I must inform you that Shogun Kamakura, our supreme leader, the
Light of the East, passed away at the Hour of Serpent, on the fourth day of the seventh
month of the Year of the Rabbit.’

A collective gasp rose from the gathered
crowd.

‘Our Shogun is
dead
!’
wailed a woman, collapsing to the ground in grief.

The whole quayside now fell to its knees,
the crowd prostrating themselves as they mourned their deceased leader. The former
Shogun’s samurai laid down their swords and bowed their heads in deep respect.

Jack was equally shocked by the news and
looked to his friends, wondering what this would mean for them. The executioner still
held the burning torch over the pyre.

The
bugyō
continued. ‘All
power now lies with the Council. And in their esteemed judgement they’ve appointed
daimyo
Takatomi to be Regent of all Japan until the Shogun’s heir,
Hidetada, comes of age and takes his rightful place as our ruler.’

While the crowd still lamented their great
loss, Jack and his friends found cause to smile – and even entertain hope of salvation.
Daimyo
Takatomi was the former lord of Kyoto, master and friend of Masamoto
Takeshi, and benefactor of their old samurai school, the
Niten Ichi Ryū
. Jack
had even saved his daughter’s life, Emi, during the Battle of Osaka Castle. The
new ruler of Japan was their ally. The question
was whether he had the
authority to overrule the exile of foreigners and Christians. More importantly, would
his influence stretch to protecting their lives in their hour of need?

The
bugyō
scrutinized the scroll
once more, its parchment fluttering in the stiffening onshore breeze. He appeared unable
to believe what he was reading. ‘The Regent’s first act in office is
to … 
pardon
the following individuals of all crimes: the foreign
samurai Jack Fletcher … Akiko Dāte … Yori …’ He trailed
off, dismissively waving the scroll in the direction of the staked prisoners.
‘Free them. Free them all.’

Jack and his friends were as astounded as
the Shogun’s samurai were dismayed at their last-second reprieve.

Benkei whooped loudly. ‘If I
didn’t have my legs bound, Jack, I’d dance a jig!’ he laughed.

Saburo hung his head and let out a huge sigh
of relief.

‘I’ve never prayed so
hard,’ sobbed Yori, ‘or been so grateful to the gods.’

Jack beamed at Akiko. Life seeming more
precious than ever, he vowed to cherish every moment with her.

‘We live to fight another day,’
she said, blinking away tears of joy.

Jack nodded. But there would be no need for
more fighting. They were no longer fugitives. And he was free to go home.

‘NO!’ shouted Kazuki, breaking
through the line of mourning samurai. ‘They’re traitors!’

Limping over, Kazuki seized the flaming
torch out of the executioner’s hand. And, before anyone could stop him, he tossed
it on to the pyre.

65
 
 

The bone-dry tinder caught immediately.
Crackling and popping, the fire spread its tendrils through the piles of wood like
spitting snakes. Fanned by the strengthening sea breeze, the flames rushed to engulf
Jack and his friends in a hellish blaze.

Kazuki laughed as they struggled against
their bonds. ‘Squirm,
gaijin
, squirm all you like!’

Benkei desperately blew at the approaching
fire. Saburo wiggled his feet to shift the bundles of wood away from him. Akiko tried to
prise open her knots. Yori began praying again, while Jack slammed his body into the
stake, attempting to loosen it from the ground. But the Shogun’s samurai had done
their job too well. Their efforts to free themselves proved futile.

Takumi and the farmers in the crowd started
screaming for the samurai to save the pardoned prisoners. But none made a move, either
too afraid to approach the deadly blaze or secretly pleased to see the fugitives
burn.

Kazuki was to have his revenge after
all.

Jack bowed his head in defeat. Only a
miracle could save
them now. For some strange reason, Shiryu’s
kanji
poem popped into his thoughts:

If we always look at the earth,

we do not see the sky.

Jack looked up. Above the bay the clouds had
gathered and grown darker. ‘With true mastery of the Ring of Sky,’ the
Grandmaster had once told him, ‘a ninja can even control the elements of nature
itself.’ Jack had been witness to just such a miracle.
But could he encourage
a storm like the one Zenjubo had invoked in the mist of the Iga mountains?

At this time, anything was worth a try.
Despite his hands being bound behind his back, Jack spread out his fingers, the index
and thumbs touching, and feverishly uttered the mantra for
Zai
: ‘
On
chirichi iba rotaya sowaka
 …’

He focused his mind on the clouds, becoming
one with the sky and beckoning the storm on. The heat around him rose and the crackle of
flaming wood filled his ears. He risked a glance. The fire was raging towards his feet.
But the clouds definitely seemed to be drawing closer … 
or was it his
imagination?

Jack concentrated harder, the mantra
tumbling from his lips in an unending chant. He looked up again. But this time, the
clouds appeared no nearer. He realized then he was just fooling himself, sheer
desperation making him believe the impossible was possible. He was no ninja Grandmaster.
No god. He couldn’t bend the elements to his will.

The fire encircled him and his friends
entirely, the blasts of heat so intense that all oxygen was seemingly sucked from the
air. Jack could only gasp in scorching lungfuls of smoke and ash as
the failed mantra died on his lips. Coughing and spluttering, he felt the first of the
flames lick at his feet, searing his flesh. At the same time he heard Yori scream as the
fire burned him too.

Then a crack of thunder split the sky and
all of a sudden the heavens opened. A tropical storm broke over Nagasaki in one
torrential downpour. The fire spat angrily as the flood of rain doused the flames,
killing the blaze within seconds.

‘Talk about the luck of the
gods!’ cried Benkei, shaking his sodden mass of hair in joy.

The others began laughing too, their tears
of relief mixing with the welcome rain.

Jack lifted his face to the billowing sky,
relishing the cool drops of water as they washed over him. Soaked to the skin, he felt
reborn.

Was it pure luck the rain had fallen? Or
had he really harnessed the Ring of Sky?

Such an idea seemed too great to believe. A
miracle.

Then through the deluge his eye was caught
by the group of praying monks in the crowd. Each of them had their hands spread out in
front, just the thumb and index finger touching. And above the patter of rain, Jack
heard a familiar incantation, ‘
On chirichi iba rotaya
sowaka
 …’ The lead monk glanced up from beneath his straw dome hat,
seemingly aware Jack was looking in his direction. Clasping his hands together, the monk
entwined his middle fingers, then extended both thumbs and little fingers into a V
shape. Jack blinked in surprise. But, when he looked again, the monk and his fellow
brothers had vanished among the crowd.

Yet Jack was certain of what he’d seen –
the
Dragon Seal
. The secret hand sign of the ninja. Now Jack knew, beyond a
doubt, the rainstorm had nothing to do with chance.

The Ring of Sky had saved them.

Thwarted from roasting Jack and his friends
alive, Kazuki gave a great howl of fury. He drew his
katana
and limped forward
to run Jack through with the blade.

‘Now
you’ll
feel the
edge of my steel,’ Kazuki growled, aiming for Jack’s stomach.

Still bound to the stake, Jack was powerless
to avoid his rival’s vicious attack. But the cloaked messenger leapt between them
before Kazuki could make his thrust.

‘Get out of my way!’ snapped
Kazuki, his face twisted in rage.

The messenger held his ground.

‘I’ll run you through as
well.’

‘Will you?’ questioned the
messenger, pulling back his hood to reveal the shaved head of a man in his late forties.
He had a small trimmed beard and amber eyes that demanded total respect. But his most
distinguishing feature was the crimson scarring that marked the left-hand side of his
face.

66
 
 

‘Masamoto-sama!’ gasped Jack,
stunned by his guardian’s miraculous appearance.

His friends stared in equal disbelief. None
of them had believed they’d ever see their old swordmaster again.

Kazuki somehow stood his ground, but his
katana
visibly trembled in his hand. ‘You were exiled! You’ve
no power here. Whereas I’m an
ōmetsuke
of the Shogun. Stand
aside.’

‘Lay down your sword, Kazuki,’
ordered Masamoto, flicking back his rider’s cloak to reveal the black silk handles
of his
daishō
.

Kazuki tensed. Jack could see his rival
summoning up the strength – and possibly the courage – to attack. Masamoto remained
motionless, his right hand relaxed by his side. The swordmaster’s unwavering calm
in the face of such a threat to his life was unsettling. He merely stared at Kazuki,
daring his ex-student to strike.

But even in his arrogance and anger Kazuki
recognized the futility of duelling the founder of the Two Heavens. He dropped his
sword, the steel clattering on the quayside.

Masamoto took a step towards him. ‘By
virtue of the power
invested in me by Takatomi-sama, the Regent of
Japan, I hereby strip you, Oda Kazuki, of all samurai status.’

He seized both of Kazuki’s swords and
ripped the sun
mon
from his kimono before throwing it on to the smouldering
fire.

‘Arrest this traitor,’ Masamoto
commanded the
bugyō
.

The magistrate, clearly aware of the
swordmaster’s reputation, immediately ordered four of the samurai guards to
apprehend Kazuki.

With the Oda family name so publicly
dishonoured, Kazuki hung his head in shame as he was shackled and led away to a life in
prison. Staring morosely at the ground, he never even glanced once in Jack’s
direction. Jack realized his rival’s spirit was truly broken. Kazuki would never
pose a threat again – not to him and, more importantly, not to Akiko.

Jack walked openly and freely through the
streets of Nagasaki. He had nothing to fear with his guardian by his side. Three days
had passed since Masamoto had averted their execution and in that time Nagasaki had been
transformed into a boisterous celebration. The inhabitants were marking the annual
Bon
Festival – a Buddhist custom honouring the spirits of their ancestors.
Yori had explained that the Japanese believed the spirit lives on after the death of the
body, returning periodically from the mountains and other sacred places to the land of
the living. To welcome the spirits back, Nagasaki was traditionally decorated with
pennants and flickering candles. The narrow alleys were filled with colourful paper
lanterns hanging overhead, and the townsfolk spilt into the streets, visiting temples
and burial sites on the hills to invite their ancestors
to come and
eat with them. All over the port, people chatted, drank and ate with imaginary spectres.
Fireworks lit up the night sky and music and dancing filled the harbour.