The Way Of The Dragon (7 page)

Akiko gave a small gasp as Jack opened up the oyster. Inside was a black shiny pearl, the colour of Akiko’s eyes.

‘That’s a rare find,’ she breathed. ‘It must be one of the most perfect black pearls I’ve ever seen.’

Jack passed it back to Akiko.

‘No,’ she said, closing his palm round the precious pearl. ‘It’s my gift to you.’

Jack wanted to thank her, but for a moment words failed him.

‘There you are!’ cried the samurai guard Taka-san, riding down the beach on his horse. ‘You’re summoned back home immediately. Masamoto-sama’s on his way.’

‘A disgraced samurai must commit
seppuku
!’ Masamoto thundered, delivering his judgement upon Jack.

He sat upon a raised dais in the reception room of Hiroko’s house, his face fuming like a volcano. Even after two months, his anger at his adopted son still raged, the scarring that ran down the left-hand side of his face was inflamed and his amber eyes burnt fiercely.

Jack looked fearfully at his guardian. He’d once been told by Akiko what
seppuku
was, but his terror at Masamoto’s anger had wiped it clean from his mind. All he knew was that it wasn’t good. Jack glanced over to Akiko for an explanation, but she remained bowing, face down to the floor, just as Yamato was.

‘
Seppuku
is ritualized suicide,’ stated Masamoto, noting Jack’s bewilderment. ‘In the Way of the Warrior, it’s considered an act of bravery for a samurai who knows he’s defeated, or disgraced, to take his own life. The deed wipes away all transgressions and the samurai’s reputation remains intact.’

Jack now understood. He had disgraced himself in the worst possible way for a samurai. By not telling Masamoto about his father’s
rutter
, he had broken the code of
bushido
, the seven virtues a samurai strove to adhere to: Rectitude, Courage, Benevolence, Respect, Honesty, Honour and Loyalty. His dishonesty had cost him his guardian’s trust and a lot more besides.

He’d also failed in his fundamental duty as a samurai to serve his lord. By hiding the
rutter
in
daimyo
Takatomi’s castle, which Dragon Eye then infiltrated, he had endangered the
daimyo
himself, the very man Masamoto was employed to protect.

Without warning, Masamoto drew his
wakizashi
sword. The blade glinted in the light, hinting at its intent.

‘
Seppuku
is an extremely painful and unpleasant way to die. First, you slit open your own belly…’

Jack trembled at the thought. He recalled the warning of Father Lucius, the Jesuit priest, now deceased, who’d once taught him Japanese: ‘Step out of line and he’ll cut you into eight pieces.’

Jack had stepped out of line and he was to pay the price.

All the training he’d struggled through and everything he’d strived for was to come to nothing. He would never see his sister again. He would die in Japan.

‘... then at the moment of agony, your head is chopped off!’

‘It wasn’t their fault!’ blurted Jack as the fate of his friends suddenly came to mind. Would they be forced to commit
seppuku
too? ‘
Please
don’t punish them for my mistake. I swore them to secrecy and forced them to help me. I hid the
rutter
on my own. Akiko and Yamato are blameless!’

‘I admire your loyalty to your friends, Jack-kun, but I’ve made my decision.’

‘I’ll leave,’ begged Jack, bowing until he was prostrate on the floor. ‘I won’t burden you any more.’

‘You can’t leave,’ stated Masamoto coolly. ‘You’re well aware that it’s not safe for you to travel alone. We
both
now know that Dokugan Ryu wants you dead – and for good reason. But, more importantly, I’m your guardian and you are my responsibility until you are of age. You can’t leave, since you need to return to school.’

‘W-what?’ stuttered Jack, raising his head to glance at Masamoto.

The samurai was actually grinning at him, the smile crinkling the scarred left-hand side of his face.

‘My idea of a little joke, Jack-kun,’ said Masamoto, letting out a short grunt of laughter as he resheathed his sword. ‘You don’t need to commit
seppuku
and I won’t chop your head off. You haven’t disgraced yourself enough for that.’

‘But I thought I’d broken the code of
bushido
,’ exclaimed Jack, not appreciating his guardian’s macabre sense of humour.

‘No, you did many things, but you always maintained
bushido
.’

Jack allowed himself to breathe again as Masamoto settled back on the dais. Picking up a cup of
sencha
from a nearby table, his guardian savoured the brew.

‘Sensei Yamada petitioned me on your behalf and I am inclined to agree with him that your decisions, however misguided, were made with the greatest consideration and respect to me. The three of you demonstrated immense loyalty to one another in your actions and you maintained your honour in fighting a formidable foe.’

‘So do you mean we’re
all
going back to school?’ asked Yamato timidly, bowing his head to the
tatami
mat.

‘Of course you’re going back!’ snorted Masamoto, glancing at his son with annoyance. ‘But it was important that I showed the rest of the school you’d been disciplined appropriately. What you had done cannot be condoned. You jeopardized
daimyo
Takatomi’s safety so deserved to be suspended – in fact you warranted a far greater punishment.’

He stared gravely at each of them in turn to ensure their complete understanding of the severity of the matter.

‘However, you also deserve recognition for what you attempted and the bravery you displayed. You were bold, daring and courageous – qualities I wish to foster in all samurai of the
Niten Ichi Ryū
. And in light of your previous service to the
daimyo
Takatomi, his lordship has graciously pardoned you all.’

He clapped loudly once and the
shoji
doors of the reception room slid open. Three of his samurai guards entered carrying weapons. They placed a tall bamboo bow and quiver of hawk-feather arrows before Akiko. Then they presented Jack and Yamato with their confiscated
daishō
, the matched pair of samurai swords that represented the social power and personal honour of a samurai.

‘I reinstate your right as samurai to bear arms,’ announced Masamoto, indicating for them to pick up their weapons.

Grateful for their reprieve, they all bowed.

Jack reached for his swords. He relished the cool touch of the lacquered
sayas
, the jet-black scabbards decorated only with a small golden phoenix near the hilt. The firebird was Masamoto’s family
kamon
and the two swords, the
katana
and the shorter
wakizashi
, had been Masamoto’s first
daishō
. Jack had been given them for winning the inter-school
Taryu-Jiai
contest and he was glad to have them back in his possession.

He drew the
katana
, enough to check the blade. Etched into the gleaming steel was a single name.

Shizu.

Jack smiled. Masamoto’s
daishō
had been forged by the greatest swordsmith, Shizu-san. Jack now knew the blades were true and that they harboured the benevolent spirit of their maker – unlike the ninja’s cursed
tantō
he also possessed.

‘Thank you for your forgiveness, Masamoto-sama,’ said Jack, bowing once more.

Masamoto nodded his head in acknowledgement and indicated with a wave of his hand that they were to leave. Standing, Jack slipped the two swords into his
obi
, where they rested comfortably against his hip. He couldn’t quite believe he was returning to the
Niten Ichi Ryū
. He would be allowed to complete his training. And he would need every ounce of skill for when he faced Dragon Eye next.

At the doorway, Jack hesitated before turning back to Masamoto.

‘What is it, Jack-kun?’ enquired his guardian.

Jack glanced apprehensively at Yamato. Even though his friend had insisted Hattori Tatsuo was dead, there was still a remote chance he had survived as the old woman had said. And Masamoto
had
commanded them to tell him everything they knew or discovered about Dokugan Ryu. If his guardian knew who the ninja really was, he may have an idea where he was located.

‘On our journey to Toba, we met an old woman who said she knew who Dragon Eye was.’

Masamoto put down his teacup and looked at Jack with sudden interest. Yamato started to shake his head, willing Jack to stop talking.

‘And? Who is he?’ demanded Masamoto.

‘Hattori Tatsuo. The woman swore he didn’t die in the Nakasendo War.’

Masamoto stared at Jack a moment longer, then began to laugh.

‘That is a tale told to scare children, Jack-kun. The Old Warlord of the North coming back from the dead. I’m afraid she was teasing you. I won’t deny that there were rumours Hattori Tatsuo had been sighted after the war, but I found them a little difficult to believe.’

‘Why?’ asked Jack.

‘Because I chopped the man’s head off.’

Jack nodded slowly, finally accepting the truth. The only lead he had turned out to be a dead end. Literally. He realized now all he could do was wait for Dragon Eye to come to him.

‘Dokugan Ryu is no ghost,’ said Masamoto, the utterance of the ninja’s name making him scowl. ‘Evil, despicable and ruthless, yes, but he’s an assassin for hire. No more, no less. Talking of which, I’ve made some careful enquiries as to this
rutter
of yours.’

Jack looked up hopefully.

‘I’m afraid no one has come across it, or even heard of it. The ninja himself has gone to ground. Probably in preparation for a new assignment. But considering the value of the
rutter
, I’m sure it will turn up sooner rather than later. I’ll let you know if I hear any more.’

‘Thank you,’ said Jack, bowing to hide his disappointment.

‘In the meantime, you should stay alert. If Dragon Eye does fail to decipher it, he will undoubtedly be back. And you need to be ready. That is why, when we return to Kyoto next month for the opening of the Hall of the Hawk, you will have a new sensei. And I understand he is a tyrant.’

‘Who is he?’ asked Jack, worried the teacher might be as vindictive and bigoted as his
taijutsu
master, Sensei Kyuzo.

‘Me!’ Masamoto laughed. ‘It’s time I taught you the Two Heavens.’

‘
YOUNG
SAMURAI!’ roared Masamoto across the expanse of the
Niten Ichi Ryū
‘s pebbled courtyard.

The entire school fell silent, having gathered excitedly for the opening ceremony of the
Taka-no-ma
.

Masamoto stood upon the veranda of a magnificent wooden building, accompanied by his sensei, the
daimyo
Takatomi and a Shinto priest.

Though about half the size of the
Butokuden
, the Hall of the Hawk complemented its larger brother like the two swords in a
daishō
. Constructed entirely of dark cypress wood, the hall was eight columns across and six deep with a large curved roof of pale-russet tiles. The borders of the roof were decorated with rows of ceramic roundels, each bearing the
kamon
of a crane.

‘We are greatly honoured by the presence of
daimyo
Takatomi,’ began Masamoto, bowing deep in respect to his lord, ‘for it is he who has graciously bestowed this new training hall upon the
Niten Ichi Ryū
.’

The students clapped loudly and their
daimyo
stepped forward.

Takatomi was dressed in his finest ceremonial kimono, the family crest of a crane picked out in white and silver thread. His right hand stroked his pencil-thin moustache, while his left rested nonchalantly upon his sword and generous round belly. Jack had met with the
daimyo
before the opening ceremony to offer his formal apology for hiding the
rutter
in his castle. It had been accepted, but the warmth of friendship the
daimyo
had once extended to him was now gone. Jack knew he’d burnt that bridge and would not be invited back to Nijo Castle ever again.

‘In recognition of the great service Masamoto-sama and his school have rendered me over the years, I am proud to be opening the
Taka-no-ma
. It is my hope that this hall will be a beacon of light in dark times.’

A genial man of typically good humour, the
daimyo
‘s expression was uncharacteristically solemn as he nodded to the Shinto priest to begin the ceremony.

The priest, in his traditional white robe and black conical hat, made his way over to the main entrance where a temporary altar had been erected – a small square marked out by a thin-knotted rope and four green stems of bamboo. In the centre a tiered wooden shrine held a green-leafed branch from a
sakaki
tree, festooned with white paper streamers.

Jack watched with interest as the Shinto priest intoned an incantation and lit an offering of incense.

‘Has the ritual begun yet?’ whispered a small voice to Jack’s right.

Jack looked down at his friend Yori, a boy large of heart but slight of stature. He couldn’t see the proceedings from behind the taller students.

‘I think so,’ replied Jack. ‘The priest’s now scattering salt and waving a flat wooden stick at the shrine.’

‘That’s his
shaku
,’ explained Yori eagerly. ‘He’s purifying the new building. He’ll then make an offering to the gods and invite the
kami
spirits in.’

‘What for?’ asked Jack.

‘We hope the
kami
will bless the hall’s shrine with their energy and bring prosperity and good fortune to the new building.’

Jack watched as the priest summoned
daimyo
Takatomi over and presented him with a small evergreen sprig. The
daimyo
turned to the shrine and placed the sacred sprig on the lowest shelf of the wooden altar. Then, as was the custom, he bowed deeply two times, clapped his hands twice and bowed once more.