The Ring of Earth - Chris Bradford [22]
Or were they?
Soke had put a seed of doubt in his mind. A single tree doesn’t make a forest.
As he passed through the village, Jack was struck by how normal everything appeared. People bowed at his approach. Farmers tended their fields. Children played in the square. They looked like ordinary families, not killers.
A young girl ran up to him. ‘Where are you going, tengu?’ she asked.
Jack recognized her as the little girl who’d taken part in sword training the day before. ‘Home.’
‘Don’t you like it here?’
‘It’s very peaceful,’ Jack admitted, ‘but I have to return to my sister.’
‘What’s her name?’
‘Jess. She’s only ten.’
‘Like me!’ the girl squealed. ‘I’m supposed to give you this, by the way.’
She handed Jack a small orange fruit.
‘What is it?’
‘A mikan. Try it.’
Jack went to take a bite, before realizing it might be a trick.
‘It’s very tasty!’ she insisted, producing one of her own. ‘But Soke said you need to peel back the skin to discover the real fruit.’
The girl skipped off towards the square, happily devouring hers.
Jack examined his mikan. What was Soke up to now? The gift looked innocent enough and didn’t appear to have been tampered with. Carefully removing the skin, he found a fleshy, segmented fruit inside. He tentatively popped a slice into his mouth. Its intense sweetness brought a smile to his face and Jack thought he understood Soke’s message. Having had to figure out so many of Sensei Yamada’s koans and riddles while at the Niten Ichi Ryū, Jack was used to such obtuse teachings. He presumed the mikan was meant to represent his view of the ninja, the skin being his false impression and the edible fruit inside the truth.
Then again it could be just a piece of fruit.
But Soke had got him thinking. Maybe he was being too rash in his judgement. Perhaps the ninja were trying to help him, after all. The question was, why? They might share a common enemy, but there had to be another reason. And he would never know unless he stayed.
Then there were the problems of negotiating the mountains, avoiding the samurai patrols and getting past every checkpoint thereafter along the road to Nagasaki. The idea of acquiring some ninja skills was appealing. Miyuki had moved through the forest as silent as a shadow. Dragon Eye had stolen in and out of guarded castles with the ease of a ghost. The ninja were masters of the Art of Stealth. With those same skills, Jack could elude the samurai rather than have to fight them.
But it seemed disloyal to his guardian Masamoto to contemplate learning such dark arts. The swordsman had brought him up to be a true and noble samurai. The man had fought against ninja all his life. But then hadn’t Akiko trained as a ninja – under the explicit instruction of Masamoto himself?
In order to know your enemy, you must become your enemy.
Perhaps this is what he should do. Jack still found it hard to justify training with the ninja. Then the Lord’s Prayer came into his head … Forgive us our sins, as we forgive those who sin against us. As a Christian, he’d always been taught to forgive. But how could he forgive those responsible for his father’s death?
A realization hit him. Dragon Eye hadn’t been a ninja to begin with. He’d been born a samurai. Circumstance of war and a twisted poisoned mind had turned him towards the ninja. Although it was those skills that made him the terror he became, Dragon Eye’s heart had never been pure.
If Jack was to stay true to his own samurai teachings, he must follow the first virtue of bushido, Rectitude, to be fair and equal to all people. This demanded that he give the ninja a chance to prove themselves, before judging them all to be like Dragon Eye.
It wouldn’t delay me greatly to stay a few days, thought Jack. And I might learn a few things to my advantage.
But should he decide to stay, he’d have to be on his guard at all times.
Lost in thought, Jack found himself wandering beside the edge of the pond. As he neared a large maple tree, he heard Hanzo shouting.
‘Tengu! Up here!’
Jack saw the boy hanging