Young Samurai: The Ring of Wind (8 page)

Jack began to appreciate the shrine’s significance for his friend. The Emperor was viewed as a living god and such a gesture would have bestowed great spiritual wealth on the temple.

Yori led them over to a fountain housed within a small covered pavilion. Fresh water spouted from an ornate dragon’s head into a stone basin. Setting aside his pilgrim’s staff, Yori picked up a wooden ladle and washed both his hands then mouth in a purification ritual. Saburo, Miyuki and Jack observed the same rite before entering the Hall of Worship.

Within its cool darkened interior, they were greeted by calming wafts of jasmine incense and the soft murmur of prayer. Several monks in white robes and black cloth hats knelt in a line, hands clasped in worship. Behind them were a group of pilgrims, some local fishermen and three samurai bearing arms. Although their heads were bowed in devotion, Jack kept his distance from the warriors. He knelt to Yori’s far side as the four of them paid their respects.

‘The shrine is dedicated to Oyamazumi, the protector of sailors and samurai,’ whispered Yori. ‘He’s the brother of Amaterasu, the sun goddess –’

The monks’ incantation stopped and the head priest rose to his feet. He walked over to the three samurai, who prostrated themselves and held their swords outstretched.

‘Many samurai make such offerings in the hope of success in battle, or as thanks for victory,’ Yori continued under his breath. ‘Sensei Yamada told me
daimyo
Kamakura came here after he won the Battle of Osaka Castle.’

Jack felt his heart harden at the mention of the name of the Shogun. He was the man responsible not only for the civil war and the exile of all foreigners but for the banishment of Jack’s guardian, Masamoto. If it wasn’t for
daimyo
Kamakura, Jack wouldn’t be on the run with a price on his head.

Accepting the samurai’s weapons, the priest walked over to a large set of double doors. As he approached, they opened to reveal an adjoining chamber.

‘That’s the Hall of Offerings,’ explained Yori, seeing Jack’s eyes widen in amazement. ‘It houses every gift donated in honour of Oyamazumi.’

The chamber was overflowing with ceremonial swords and armour. Blades hung like silver scales from every wall, tall racks of spears and bows lined the sides, and taking pride of place in the centre of the room was a gleaming suit of silver-white armour.

‘That belonged to Minamoto Yoritomo, the first Shogun. Such gifts are the reason why the temple possesses so much divine power. Many believe the spirits of the great warriors live on through this shrine. At night, monks have even heard battles in the Hall of Offerings.’

The priest returned, closing the doors behind him. The monks’ incantation resumed as the priest presented each of the samurai with an
omamori
talisman.

‘I wish I hadn’t left my helmet in Tomo,’ Saburo whispered. ‘We could have made an offering ourselves – for good luck on the voyage.’

‘We can still pray for such fortune,’ said Yori, closing his eyes and putting his palms together.

The four of them fell into silent worship. Jack took the moment to pray to his own Christian God, letting his mind drift with the monks’ chant. But he was soon distracted by a ray of light playing upon his face. Opening his eyes, he discovered the setting sun was streaming in through one of the latticed windows. It overlooked a path that led to a cliff. An elderly man was perched upon a rock near the edge, directly in line with the sun. His movement causing the beam of sunlight to flicker.

All of a sudden, the man toppled forward and disappeared.

Jack blinked, unsure if he’d really seen him at all. No one else in the temple apparently had. His friends remained deep in prayer and, not wishing to disturb them, Jack hurried out to discover if the man was alive or not … or if he’d even existed.

The courtyard was deserted as he ran along the path to the cliff edge. Bracing himself for the worst, Jack looked over to see a dizzying drop. The cliff plummeted straight down into the sea. Waves churned at the bottom and offered no prospect of survival. Then a head bobbed to the surface. The man swam for the shore, but another wave rolled in and he disappeared once more.

Jack spied a rock-strewn animal track leading to a ledge at the cliff base. Without a thought for his own safety, or the fact that he’d reveal his identity, he scrambled down in a wild attempt to save the drowning man. Jack was almost halfway when he burst back to the surface. But yet another wave engulfed him. Breathless, Jack bounded over the last few steps and hurried to the water’s edge. He searched the turbulent sea for any sign of the man. But the churning white mass offered little hope.

A huge wave rolled in and broke against the cliff. Jack jumped back to avoid getting dragged in himself. As it retreated, he was stunned to see an elderly man sitting casually upon the ledge, wringing the salt water from his beard.

‘Are you hurt?’ asked Jack, offering a hand to help him up.

The man stood on his own. ‘Why should I be?’

‘How could anyone survive in there?’ said Jack, pointing to the deadly confusion of rocks and white water.

‘It’s easy,’ replied the man, his slate-grey eyes taking in Jack but showing no concern for his foreign appearance. ‘I follow the way of the water and do nothing to oppose it – its nature becomes my nature.’

The man started up the track, pausing briefly as an invitation for Jack to follow. Jack was surprised by the nimbleness and speed with which the old man scaled the steep face.

‘The fall alone should have killed you,’ Jack insisted, unable to believe the man was unharmed.

Reaching the top, the elderly man picked up a bird’s feather and held it before Jack’s nose.

‘Watch this,’ he instructed, and let it go. The sea breeze caught the feather and it fluttered across the bay, floating towards the beach. ‘You see, the feather doesn’t resist. It simply goes where the wind blows.’

Jack immediately understood. The old man was talking about the Ring of Wind. The Grandmaster had used the exact same words. This element of the Five Rings embodied the spirit of
ninjutsu
– evasion, open-mindedness, the ability to respond to any situation, be ready for any attack as it occurs.
To go where the wind blows
.

The man pointed to a tree beside the temple, the bough broken and the trunk split. ‘That oak tried to resist the wind. Strong as it is, the tree lost the fight.’ He looked Jack directly in the eye. ‘Bear this in mind, young samurai, for when an old enemy returns anew.’

A shiver ran down Jack’s spine, as if someone had walked across his grave.
How could this old man know such things?

He was about to ask when he heard a shout from behind.

‘Jack!’ cried Miyuki, waving frantically from the courtyard. ‘The boat’s leaving without us!’

Wind Demons

They raced along the beach, shouting for the captain to stop. But the ship had raised its sail and the crew were casting off. Either the captain didn’t hear them, or he chose not to.

Their feet pounded on to the wooden pier. Miyuki was the fastest, flying down its length and leaping catlike to land upon the ship’s deck. A crewmember stumbled back in shock.

Still the boat pulled away.

Jack and Saburo tossed the canvas bag with all their might and Miyuki caught it. Springing mid-step, Jack flew through the air to land deftly on the gunwale. He dropped on to the deck before turning to help the others. Saburo, his cheeks red and wheezing like a pair of bellows, began to flag. With each step, the gap between the pier and the boat grew ever wider.

‘Jump
now
!’ shouted Jack.

Ditching his pilgrim’s staff, Saburo threw himself across the water. Arms extended, he crashed painfully into the guardrail and clung on for dear life. Jack and Miyuki dragged him on-board. Only Yori remained. Lagging behind because of his smaller stride, he was still halfway along the pier. Yet the boat was almost at the end and heading out into open water.

‘Stop the ship!’ cried Miyuki.

The captain held up his hands apologetically. ‘I can’t. The tides have turned.’

‘Come on, Yori!’ urged Jack, running to the stern.

Yori sprinted after them, his short legs pumping furiously.

‘JUMP! I’ll catch you,’ shouted Jack, leaning over the rail.

The boat cleared the pier. Yori made a leap of faith. Legs and arms flailing, he launched himself towards Jack’s outstretched arms.

‘He’s not going to make it,’ said Saburo. Seizing Jack’s waist, he and Miyuki shoved Jack further over the side. Jack, fingers splayed, stretched for all he was worth. Yori tumbled towards him. Jack missed the left hand and Yori fell away before his eyes. But the extra reach allowed him to snatch at Yori’s pilgrim staff. He clamped down hard, gritting his teeth as the wood slipped through his fingers.

Yori cried out, desperately clinging on. He swung helpless above the water and Jack thought he was about to lose his friend, when the staff juddered to a halt. The Five Rings characters etched into the handle gave him just enough grip to halt Yori’s fall. With muscles straining, Saburo and Miyuki pulled them both to safety. They all collapsed on the deck, breathing heavily.

‘You left us on purpose!’ accused Miyuki, glaring at the captain.

‘I forgot we had passengers,’ the captain replied with unconvincing innocence.

Miyuki rose to confront him. ‘If you ever forget us again, you’ll live to regret it.’

‘What are you going to do?’ snorted the captain. ‘Throw your prayer book at me?’

Miyuki started forward, but Jack took her by the arm.

‘He’s our only passage to Nagasaki,’ Jack reminded her quietly.

Fuming, Miyuki stormed down the steps to the main deck.

‘She’s lucky you stopped her,’ remarked the captain, puffing out his chest.

No,
you’re
lucky I stopped her
, thought Jack, wondering how the captain would have steered with a broken arm.

Jack joined the others amid the chaos of the cargo. As the boat sailed round the headland, Jack realized he’d never said goodbye to the old man on the cliff. Looking up, he could make out his silhouette against the dying light of the day. The old man was sitting upon the rock again, staring out to sea. Jack waved farewell to him.

‘Who are you waving to?’ asked Saburo.

‘The old man up there.’

Yori and Saburo both glanced up.

‘That isn’t a man,’ said Yori with an amused smile. ‘That’s Taira Rock.’

‘What?’ said Jack, eyeing the figure more carefully.

‘It’s named after Taira Masamori, the Great Pirate Queller,’ explained Yori. ‘Five hundred years ago, as
daimyo
of Aki Province, it was his responsibility to stop their raids. Every time he defeated a pirate clan, he honoured the gods at this shrine. Then one night pirates attacked Omishima Island and captured Masamori. They threw him off that cliff top. Somehow he survived, climbed back up and killed them all. But during the fight he suffered fatal wounds and died upon that spot. Legend says, when his body was found, it had turned to stone.’

‘But I
talked
with him,’ insisted Jack.

‘Jack’s speaking with warrior spirits now!’ chuckled Saburo, tucking into a piece of dried fish in an effort to eat before he became seasick again.

But Jack didn’t laugh. He swore he hadn’t imagined the encounter. Yet, as their boat pulled away from the cove, the figure revealed itself to be nothing more than a large rock.

Jack stood upon the bow, deep in contemplation. The sun had set and the Seto Sea now reflected a starlit night sky. A gibbous moon hung in the heavens, casting a silvery sheen across the crest of the waves.

An old enemy returns anew.

The phrase haunted his thoughts. He remained convinced that his experience at Taira Rock had been genuine. The bottoms of his white breeches were still damp from where the wave had broken over the ledge. Yet Miyuki didn’t remember seeing anyone when she’d called to him from the shrine.

Jack sighed. Daydream or not, he realized it was likely that Kazuki and his Scorpion Gang had picked up their trail. His old school rival could easily have got word of their escape from Tomo Harbour. Tenacious and resourceful, Kazuki would deduce they’d gone to sea and wouldn’t rest until he’d captured Jack. At least his enemy’s continued pursuit meant Akiko was safe, since he couldn’t fulfil his vow to punish her for crippling his right hand.

Holding a palm to his chest, Jack felt the press of Akiko’s pearl against his heart. It still lay securely pinned to the lapel of his jacket and its reassuring touch calmed him. Jack looked to the sky, searching out Spica, one of the brightest stars in the heavens. He’d shown Akiko its position one night when they’d been alone together in the Southern Zen Garden. Smiling at the memory, Jack hoped that she gazed up at it sometimes, just as he did.

‘Still communicating with spirits?’ asked Miyuki with a mischievous grin.

Jack was startled out of his dreaming. Miyuki possessed a ninja’s unsettling habit of moving with absolute silence. The sea breeze stiffened and Miyuki drew closer to him. Her eyes, black as midnight, held his gaze. Knowing the affection she held for him, Jack wondered what she was about to do next …