The Ring of Water - Chris Bradford [41]
Jack cursed his error of judgement. Nijo Castle had seemed the easiest and safest place to meet, but this was also where Kazuki would return.
‘We’d best keep moving,’ said Jack to Hana, explaining their predicament.
With no real destination in mind, he kept his head down and allowed his instincts to guide them. Rounding the corner, they made their way along a wide boulevard and were crossing to the opposite side of the street when Jack stopped.
‘Where now?’ asked Hana.
Jack looked up to get his bearings and felt his knees almost give way at the sight before him. An entranceway of dark cypress wood and white earthen walls greeted him. Carved above the gate was a large wooden crest of a phoenix, its flaming wings broken but defiant.
‘We’re here,’ breathed Jack, emotion choking him and his eyes welling with tears.
Without thinking, he’d led them straight to the Niten Ichi Ryū.
‘Are you all right?’ asked Hana.
Jack swallowed and nodded mutely. With hesitant steps, he approached the outer gate. The wood was battered and weatherworn and in places splintered. His fingers traced a set of kanji characters carved into a large wooden board hammered across the entrance:
‘What does it say?’ asked Hana in a hushed tone.
‘Ummm …’ Jack racked his brains, trying to remember all the kanji Akiko had taught him. ‘Closed. By order of the Shogun.’
He pressed an eye to one of the cracks. On the other side lay his school, just as he remembered it, with the grey pebbled courtyard that was the hub of the Niten Ichi Ryū, and the awe-inspiring Butokuden, the celebrated training hall for kenjutsu and taijutsu. To his right, up a flight of stone steps, he could make out Sensei Yamada’s Butsuden, the Buddha Hall where he’d taken Zen meditation classes and inside which hung an immense temple bell, the size of a mountain boulder.
Behind the Buddha Hall, Jack could just make out the pale russet tiles that formed the roof of the Chō-no-ma, the Hall of Butterflies, so named for the exquisite panels of painted butterflies and sakura trees that lined its lush interior. On the far side was Masamoto’s residence and personal dojo, the Hō-oh-no-ma, where the priviledged few were taught the secret art of the Two Heavens. Next to it was the Southern Zen Garden and over to his left the Shishi-no-ma, the Hall of Lions where the young samurai slept …
Jack blinked in amazement. It was all there, just waiting for his return.
But then he began to see the truth. In his excitement, his mind had been playing tricks on him. The courtyard was unraked and strewn with debris, leaves littering all four corners. The garden was overgrown, filled with weeds, a standing stone toppled on its side. The doors to the Buddha Hall were hanging off their hinges. Beside the Butokuden, like an unfinished grave, lay the charred foundations of the Hall of the Hawk – the first building Kazuki had set fire to. And beyond that, the Hall of Lions, only one wall left standing, was no more than a crumbling burnt-out wreck.
There was no movement. No students. No sensei. No life.
Surely the place hasn’t been entirely abandoned, prayed Jack.
‘The proprietor said the south side of the castle. This is east!’ pointed out a rather breathless and irate Ronin.
Jack spun round, both surprised and relieved. ‘You weren’t arrested …’
‘I merely pretended to be drunk. And that isn’t a crime … yet.’ The samurai stared at him with eyes that were stone-cold sober and Jack knew his earlier intoxication had all been an act. Ronin looked back over his shoulder. ‘We should go. That troublesome troop of young samurai are headed this way.’
The three of them ducked down the first side street they came to, and Ronin led them in silence across the city, only slowing when they reached a narrow canal in a quiet residential district. They followed it north, walking at a leisurely pace so as not to arouse suspicion.
‘Now, who were they?’ demanded Ronin.
‘The leader’s Kazuki,’ replied Jack, the name leaving a bad taste in his mouth. ‘An old school rival. A traitor.’
‘He’s very dangerous.