Young Samurai 06 - The Ring of Fire, page 3
‘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?’
No one answered him. The farmers merely stared in wretched misery at the floor, wringing their hands.
All of a sudden Kunio looked up, his face bright with an idea. ‘We can recruit more samurai!’ he blurted.
Toge shook his head in disbelief at the boy’s stupidity. ‘Think how long it took us to get one samurai! We’ve less than a month before the black moon.’
‘But it’ll be easier for him,’ said Kunio, indicating Jack.
‘Yes, yes!’ agreed Sora, his eyes sparkling with promise. ‘Samurai won’t listen to a farmer, but they will to another samurai.’
The farmers turned expectantly to Jack.
‘I don’t know …’ began Jack, fully aware that a gaijin would have even less chance than a farmer.
‘I beg you!’ cried Sora, prostrating himself before Jack. ‘You’re our only hope.’
Kunio threw himself down too, followed by Junichi and Toge. Trembling like a leaf, Yoshi held his hands out in prayer. Their abject deference made Jack uncomfortable. But these poor farmers were so desperate. And their local daimyo clearly wouldn’t be coming to their rescue.
Perhaps I can train them to fight, considered Jack. Or at least improve the village defences. Still, forty bandits!
Whatever the odds, he had to do something for them. When he’d first arrived in Japan, the great samurai swordsman – Masamoto Takeshi – had rescued him from certain death. With no parents and no way home, Jack had been adopted by the man, trained in martial arts at his samurai school in Kyoto, and given a fighting chance. It was time to repay that debt, for him to become that samurai saviour. He knew he’d be risking all, but his late friend and Japanese brother Yamato had shown him what it meant to be a samurai of the Masamoto clan – selfless sacrifice.
‘I’ll help you,’ Jack announced.
Sora now wept with joy. He scurried over to the fire and began to heap piles of steaming rice into a bowl. Bowing, he presented the meal to Jack.
‘Arigatō gozaimasu, arigatō gozaimasu,’ he repeated in thanks.
He then shared out the remainder of the rice, while Kunio poured everyone a cup of sencha. With great ceremony, Junichi raised his green tea in a toast.
‘For your service, we honour you. May I ask your name, samurai?’
Jack realized the time had come to reveal his identity. This was the perfect moment. The farmers were in his debt and in need of his services and, judging by Neko’s reaction, there was no reason to hide any more.
‘Jack Fletcher,’ he replied, boldly taking off his hat.
6
FIRE
Sora fell backwards on to his rear. Kunio’s mouth dropped open in shock. Junichi cried out in amazement, while Yoshi squinted even harder, disbelieving his old eyes.
‘A gaijin!’ exclaimed Toge.
‘And a boy at that! Get out!’ yelled Junichi, pointing to the door.
‘But I’m here to help you,’ Jack protested, as Toge snatched the bowl of rice from his hands.
Jack stared at the farmers, thunderstruck by their response. A moment ago, they were crying out for him. Now they couldn’t wait to be rid of him.
Junichi turned on Toge. ‘Is this some sort of joke? A foreign boy pretending to be a samurai!’
‘We were deceived!’ said Toge, glaring at Jack.
‘No more than you not mentioning Black Moon,’ replied Jack. ‘I may not be Japanese, but I am samurai.’
‘And I’m a daimyo!’ shot back Toge with a mocking laugh. ‘Now you heard Junichi: leave our village – you’re not welcome.’
Sora, who’d recovered from his initial shock, stepped to Jack’s defence. ‘B-b-but he agreed to stop Black Moon. We need him.’
Junichi gave Sora a withering look. ‘Do you really think a boy can defeat a devil like Akuma?’
Sora opened his mouth then closed it, stumped for an answer.
‘Sometimes it takes a devil to beat a devil,’ said Yoshi, siding with Sora.
‘He’s an ill omen,’ argued Junichi. ‘We should get rid of the gaijin before any more bad luck befalls our village.’
‘No samurai has come to our defence, yet this foreigner has,’ Yoshi pointed out.
‘We cannot take such a risk,’ said Toge. ‘When we were in Okayama, I heard that the Shogun had banished all foreigners. Anyone caught harbouring a gaijin is to be punished with death!’
‘That settles it,’ said Junichi. ‘As head of this village, I declare the boy be cast out immediately.’
He indicated for Kunio to open the door. Before Jack could object, Toge ushered him on to the veranda and slammed the door shut behind him. A moment later, the door opened again and his straw hat came flying out.
There’s gratitude, thought Jack, bending down to pick it up.
Gazing round at the decrepit village, all doors closed to him, and at the stark snow-laden landscape, Jack knew his future survival looked bleak. He had no shelter, no food and was stranded in the middle of nowhere. Once more he stood in the cold, alone and friendless.
Well, not quite. He sensed eyes upon him. At the end of the veranda, Neko was observing him with a mixture of confusion and sadness on her grimy face. Her eyes silently pleaded with him not to leave, as he put on his sandals and stepped on to the muddy road.
Tracks led off in all four directions and Jack wondered which one to take. He was miles off his route and the sun was close to setting, so he wouldn’t get far tonight. He could retrace his steps back to Okayama, or cut south-west to the main coastal road. But from what he’d seen, the plain was desolate and exposed. He’d more than likely perish. The mountains to the north would be too harsh and dangerous, and anyway took him the wrong way. The forest appeared to offer the best hope. It provided protection against the elements, with the possibility of scavenging for food, and was more or less the direction he needed to head in. Hoisting his pack over his shoulder, Jack gave the despondent Neko a sorrowful wave, then trudged west out of the village.
As he passed each farmhouse, Jack caught glimpses of the villagers’ haggard faces watching him. He no longer felt so much pity for them. They had the warmth of a fire and the benefit of food. Already there was a sharp bite to the chill air and Jack shivered. He wasn’t looking forward to another frosty night out in the open. The rice of the previous day was now a distant memory and hunger began to gnaw at his insides. The churlish Toge hadn’t even allowed him to eat that final meal!
Jack was at the village border when Neko jumped out from behind the last building. Breathless from running, she presented a small bag to him. Inside were a few hastily snatched handfuls of rice.
‘Thank you, Neko,’ said Jack, bowing gratefully as he accepted her charity.
Putting the precious food inside his pack, Jack walked on into the forest. The last he saw of Neko was her bowing him goodbye, a light snow falling around her. Jack just hoped she wouldn’t be in trouble for helping him.
As he trekked west, the sun dropped behind the horizon and the evening light began to fade fast. The forest grew cold and threatening. He hadn’t gone far when he heard the sound of hurried footsteps.
Immediately, Jack diverted off the main track and hid behind a tree. He unsheathed his sword, ready to defend himself. Had the farmers changed their minds? Or was it the dreaded Akuma and his bandits?
His pursuer drew closer.
Blending himself with the tree, Jack held his breath and became still as a stone. Practised in gotonpo, the ninja Art of Concealment, Jack would be virtually invisible to his enemy.
A figure ran past and came to a stop where the track forked.
Jack peered round the trunk and saw Neko, a look of desperation on her face, her eyes searching the forest. She was about to set off again, when Jack stepped out from his hiding place.
‘What do you want?’ he demanded.
Neko gestured wildly, but Jack couldn’t make head or tail of what she was saying. Shrugging, he shook his head.
Giving up on signing, Neko grabbed Jack’s arm and pulled him off the road and into the forest. She led him up a rise to a small clearing, where she urgently pointed to Tamagashi village below.
In the gathering gloom of dusk, Jack saw a bright red fire burning out of control in the square. To his horror, one of the farmhouses was ablaze.
7
BABY
Jack sprinted down the track, hard on Neko’s heels. For such a small thing, she was as fast as a fox. And she had also proved very persuasive – she’d mutely entreated him to return to the village, unwilling to let go of his arm until he agreed. Jack could only presume that Akuma was raiding the farmers’ rice store, the harsh snows having encouraged him to seize provisions early.
The two of them burst from the forest and ran along the muddy track into the village centre. All the farmers had gathered in the square and were now staring in horror at the inferno before them. The thatched roof of the farmhouse was alive with flames. A few men were trying to douse the blaze with buckets of icy water from the pond, but their efforts were making little impact and the fire continued to spread.
A woman wailed, struggling in the arms of a round-faced man with thinning hair, who appeared just as tormented. She seemed desperate to throw herself inside the burning building.
Neko and Jack came to a halt beside Sora, whose face was more anguished than ever.
‘Where’s Akuma?’ demanded Jack, looking around for the bandits.
‘Akuma?’ gasped Sora, shocked by the name almost as much as by seeing Jack again. ‘No … no bandits. A cooking pot full of oil spilt and set the house on fire.’
Jack sheathed his katana, annoyed that Neko had dragged him back just for this. Tragic as it was, it was of no concern to him. He turned to resume his journey.
‘B-b-but their baby’s still inside,’ Sora exclaimed.
Above the roar of the flames and the mother’s own cries, Jack now heard the screams of a small child. The farmhouse was close to collapsing, but the farmers still stood doing nothing. It was clear they were all too scared to risk their lives.
Jack lost no time. Passing Neko his swords and pack, he ran over to a nearby shed and ripped away the cloth sacking that hung from a window. He then seized a full bucket from one of the farmers and threw it over himself. Shuddering with the cold, he grabbed a second bucket and soaked the sack too. Wrapping himself in the sodden cloth, he took a deep breath and charged into the blazing farmhouse.
Jack was hit by a wave of heat so intense it almost knocked him off his feet. The air was scorching and burnt all the way into his lungs. Hacking violently, he peeked from beneath the sacking. The room was a swirl of smoke, ash and flames. To his right, one wall was engulfed in fire, the kitchen area a brimstone hell in which no one could survive. To his left, the raised wooden sleeping area smouldered but had yet to catch alight.
In the far corner he caught a glimpse of a makeshift cot and heard the high-pitched screams of the abandoned baby. The infant began to wheeze and choke as smoke descended over the cot.
Pulling the wet sacking closer round his face, Jack dashed across the room. Even through the soles of his sandals, he could feel the blistering heat of the wooden deck. It wouldn’t be long before the whole floor burst into flames.
Reaching the baby, he was amazed to find it unharmed, its face protected beneath an old shawl. Snatching it from the cot, he wrapped the little infant protectively within the sacking. But the cloth was almost dry and would soon be useless. He started to run back outside when all of a sudden an almighty crack sounded. Looking up, he saw a flaming roof beam split in half.
At the last second Jack dived out of the way, rolling across the decking with the baby in his arms as the beam crashed to the ground. The infant screamed even louder as its world was turned upside-down. Jack flipped to his feet, only to discover they were now encircled by a ring of fire.
He could see the doorway tantalizingly close, but he would have to run a gauntlet of flame to reach it.
The sacking on his back, now dry as tinder, ignited and he was given no other choice. Shrugging the cloth from his shoulders, he clasped the baby to his chest and threw himself towards the only exit. Flames licked at him as he ran, his soaked kimono his last defence.
The farmhouse creaked and groaned, then caved in on itself as Jack tumbled out into the square. Coughing and spluttering, he collapsed in the snow, for once grateful for its cold embrace.
‘My baby! My baby!’ cried the mother, breaking free from her anxious husband’s grasp.
Jack handed her the screaming child. As soon as it was in her arms, the baby fell quiet, comforted by the mother’s embrace. The woman inspected her child with relief, then looked to Jack, her eyes filled with tears of gratitude.
‘Arigatō gozaimasu,’ she sobbed, bowing her head low.
The man now approached and Jack prepared himself to be run out of town once again. But the farmer dropped to his knees, throwing his arms out and placing his head to the ground in total respect.
‘Young samurai, our family is forever in your debt,’ he said. ‘My name is Yuto. I’m the father of this child and now your humble servant.’
8
ABDUCTED
Jack tucked into the biggest bowl of rice he’d ever seen. All the village women had come together to bring him gifts of food. Jack didn’t wait on ceremony this time. Deftly using his chopsticks, he polished off the meal and moved on to the miso soup, steamed vegetables and even some smoked mackerel. Given his last experience with the farmers, he had to make the most of being in their favour while he could.
He sat in Junichi’s house, warming by the fire in a fresh kimono, the baby’s mother having insisted on washing his dirty blue one. Neko had crept in and now knelt beside him, proudly guarding his swords and pack. Junichi, Yoshi and Toge sat opposite and joined Jack in his meal with freshly brewed cups of sencha. Behind them knelt Sora and Kunio, the boy transfixed by the new hero in their village.
