The Ring of Water - Chris Bradford [38]
‘What’s your problem?’ snapped Jack. ‘Why are you always drinking?’
‘In order to suffer fools like you!’ shot back Ronin.
‘Stop! Stop!’ exclaimed Hana, stepping between them. ‘This isn’t helping us get to Kyoto.’
Jack and Ronin glared at each other, neither willing to back down.
‘It’s no one’s fault here. The only people to blame are those who attacked Jack.’
Recognizing the sense in Hana’s words, Jack now felt deeply ashamed of his outburst and bowed his head in remorse.
‘I’m sorry, Ronin. I should be thankful for all the help you’ve given me. It’s just that I seem to be getting nowhere. We may have the pearl, but what chance do I have of ever recovering my other possessions? It’s hopeless.’
Ronin took another swig from his bottle and smiled encouragingly at Jack.
‘It’s never hopeless,’ he said, gripping Jack’s shoulder. ‘Tomorrow’s a new day and I promise we’ll find your swords.’
23
KYOTO
Jack’s breath caught in his throat at the first sighting of the Heart of Japan. The home of the Emperor, of Nijo Castle, of the Niten Ichi Ryū, and of many experiences … good and bad.
He recalled how awestruck he’d been upon his first arrival at the capital city three years before and was no less impressed by its size and scale this time. Approaching from the southern plain, Kyoto lay at the heart of an immense horseshoe of forested mountains. To the north-east, Jack could see Mount Hiei rising up towards the clouds. Perched upon its slopes was the ruined temple complex of Enryakuji, destroyed forty years ago by the samurai General Nobunaga. But Jack knew that a lantern, the ‘Eternal Light’, continued to burn in a crumbling shrine, for he had trained in one of its courtyards under the guidance of his blind bōjutsu master, Sensei Kano. And, like that flame, his memories now reignited.
He remembered how he and Akiko had sat on that very mountain, her head resting upon his shoulder as they watched the first sunrise of the New Year.
Drawing closer to the city’s boundary, Jack spotted the towering pagoda of Kiyomizudera, its spire poking above the tree canopy near where the Sound of Feathers waterfall thundered down the mountainside. That had been where he and Yamato had fought over the Jade Sword and subsequently forged the beginnings of a friendship. A wave of sadness always consumed him when he thought of Yamato, his loyal and brave friend who was now dead, having sacrificed his life to save Akiko and Jack from the ruthless ninja Dragon Eye.
Crossing a wide wooden bridge into the city, Ronin, now sober, guided them along the grassy treelined banks of the Kizugawa River. Hearing laughter and seeing a family enjoying a picnic together beneath the sakura trees, Jack was reminded of Akiko’s hanami party, the annual flower-viewing celebration in spring.
As they wound through the streets of Kyoto, passing the countless Shinto shrines and Buddhist temples, private villas and miniature gardens, busy shops and crowded inns, Jack recognized more and more places from his past. The golden maple leaves of the Eikando Temple caught his eye; the street vendor selling okonomiyaki, the fried pancakes that his friend Saburo had relished; the store displaying papier-mâché masks like the ones they’d all worn for the Gion Matsuri Festival. And down that alley Jack knew was concealed the mysterious Ryoanji, the Temple of the Peaceful Dragon, where a monk with knife-like hands had secretly taught Akiko the Art of the Ninja.
So many memories, so many experiences, but they were just like ghosts now. And the city for all its familiarity felt hostile to Jack.
The throng of the central market made him nervous. Although he could hide in a crowd, there were more people – more eyes – that might notice him. He kept his head bowed, ensuring Ronin’s wide-brimmed hat covered his face.
Ronin forged a path through the streets, congested with shoppers, browsers, samurai and traders. They cut down a side alley before emerging into a small square, quieter and more