The Ring of Water - Chris Bradford [13]
Leaping to his feet, Ronin grabbed Jack and slammed him against the shrine wall. ‘What did you say?’
‘I … I thought samurai were meant to be honourable,’ spluttered Jack, taken aback by the man’s sudden mood swing. ‘You promised to help me. Where’s your sense of bushido?’
‘You’ve no right to ask that!’ Ronin spat into Jack’s face. ‘Before you criticize someone, you should walk a mile in their shoes!’
‘I would if I had any,’ replied Jack.
Ronin looked down at Jack’s muddy and blistered feet. He grunted with amusement and his anger dissipated. ‘I remember now,’ he said, grinning. ‘I admired your fighting spirit. You were the underdog, yet you still bit back.’
He let go, patting out the ruckles in Jack’s tattered kimono.
‘If I said I’d help you, I will. I am a man of my word.’
Ronin sat back down, took a swig from the remains of his saké and coughed harshly. ‘So remind me, what’s our plan?’
‘We haven’t made one yet,’ Jack replied, warily sitting opposite the hungover samurai. The man’s temperament was proving as unpredictable as the sea. Deciding against mentioning his encounter with the Riddling Monk, Jack said, ‘But have you heard of the Great Buddha?’
‘Of course.’
‘Do you know where we could find him?’
‘Depends which one you seek,’ replied Ronin.
Taken aback to hear this, Jack pulled out the amulet. ‘The one who owns this omamori.’
Ronin attempted to focus his eyes on the silk pouch. ‘Tō … dai … ji.’
Jack stared blankly at the samurai.
‘That’s what it says here,’ Ronin explained, pointing to the three kanji characters. ‘Tōdai-ji. It’s the name of the Buddhist temple this amulet comes from.’
‘Is it far?’
‘Maybe a day or so’s walk. It’s in Nara.’
Jack now realized the monk had told him where to go. If you went backwards, it would be Aran … Nara!
‘Can you take me there?’
‘I’d be honoured to,’ Ronin replied, leaning against the wall and enjoying a long draft of saké. ‘Once it stops raining.’
7
A TROUBLED PAST
Flashes of lightning lit the sky and rain poured in a continuous waterfall from the heavens as the thunderstorm battered the little shrine. Sheltered inside, Jack stared into the deepening gloom, troubled that he still had no recollection of the past few days. Ronin, sipping the last of his saké, drifted into another drunken slumber. A short while after, Jack surrendered to exhaustion too. Lying down, he listened to the rain drum upon the shrine’s roof. Accustomed to bad weather from his time on-board the Alexandria, Jack slept through the night, only waking when the dawn chorus heralded a new day. The storm had passed and the early morning sun was burning off the mist in the valley below.
Jack sat up and stretched. His body was still stiff and sore, but the night’s rest had done him some good. Cupping his hands, he scooped up some fresh water from a puddle and finished off the last of his berries. While he waited for Ronin to wake, he resumed his self-healing meditation. His senses heightened by the trancelike state of kuji-in, Jack heard the forest resounding to a million drops of water falling from leaf to leaf as the ninja magic did its work.
‘What are you up to?’ demanded Ronin gruffly, eyeing Jack’s hand sign with suspicion. Ronin looked like a bear that had been roused from hibernation too early. His beard was unkempt, his eyes red and his expression grouchy.
‘Just meditating,’ replied Jack, unclasping his hands.
Ronin snorted with derision. ‘Meditation won’t fill an empty stomach.’
He shook his saké jug, then upended it. Not a single drop came out and he threw it away in disgust. ‘Let’s go.’
Lacking footwear, Jack hobbled as fast as he could after the departing Ronin. The samurai forged ahead down the forest path, irritably glancing back as Jack lagged further and further behind. He eventually stopped and waited for him at a crossroads. To pass the time, Ronin cut a long branch from a tree with his wakizashi, sheared the twigs off the main stem, rounded the ends and stripped away the bark. On Jack’s arrival, he presented him with