The Ring of Water - Chris Bradford [46]
‘But you must eat, Jack …’ said Hana.
Ronin silently shook his head at Hana, warning her to let Jack go.
Jack wandered through the abandoned school. With early evening settling in, the Niten Ichi Ryū merely appeared to be asleep, not dead. Climbing the stone steps in front of him, he found himself outside the Butsuden, the wide wooden doors hanging off like broken wings. He stepped inside its shadowy interior.
‘Hello?’ he called.
Only the echo of his voice responded. What more had he expected?
Solitary and stoic, the great bronze Buddha sat unworshipped in the darkened recesses of the hall. Above, like a heavenly crown, hung the immense temple bell. The Buddha seemed to glow in the afterlight of the fading sun and Jack felt himself drawn to him. Before he even realized it, he’d crossed the room and was kneeling at the statue’s feet.
Bringing his hands together, he prayed. For Saburo. For Kiku. For Masamoto. For the memory of Yamato. For the friendship of Akiko. And … for his sister, Jess, in England.
Once again he found himself facing the possibility of death by the sword and his only thoughts were for his friends and the welfare of his remaining family. No matter what it took, he had to survive. How he wished for Sensei Yamada’s guidance now. The Zen master always had an answer, even if it wasn’t always obvious.
All of a sudden there was a noise and a bird in the rafters took flight, its wings flapping in a wild panic.
Jack spun round. ‘Who’s there?’
Distant laughter.
He turned the other way, his eyes darting around the gloomy hall. He caught a flash of red reflecting off the bronze Buddha. He felt his throat go dry with fear.
Surely not?
His senses on high alert, Jack heard every creak and groan of the derelict building. Shadows seemed to spring to life.
Riddle me this, young samurai! What is greater than God, more evil than the Devil? Poor people have it, rich people need it, and if you eat it you’ll die. Tell me this and I shall give it to you.
‘How should I know?’ hissed Jack, his voice thin and lost in the emptiness of the hall as the Riddling Monk’s words plagued his mind. Like an incessant irritating tune, he couldn’t get the riddle out of his head.
Getting to his feet, Jack edged round the bronze Buddha, his hands out in front ready to fend off any attack.
Know this! What you find is lost. What you give is given back. What you fight is defeated … What you fight is defeated … What you fight is defeated …
Turning the corner, Jack came face to face with a fire-red monster. Fearsome, with a wild moustache and a single black eye, it towered over him. In his panicked state, his brain barely registered that the monster was merely an oversized Daruma Doll. And the unexpected shock of seeing it in the darkness sent Jack fleeing from the temple.
He flung himself through the doors and outside, his heart beating rapidly in his chest. He knew he’d let his imagination run away with him, but it didn’t make the terror any less real. He was certain he’d felt the Riddling Monk’s presence and a shiver ran through him.
Stopping to get his breath back on the steps, Jack heard Hana scream …
28
PLUM FLOWER POLES
Jack burst into the garden as Hana’s cry of pain turned to laughter – the same laughter he’d heard from the Buddha Hall. Ronin sat cross-legged upon the garden’s veranda, his chin resting upon the hilt of the bokken he’d picked up. Hana was lying on the floor amid a small forest of poles.
‘You must be relaxed and free-flowing –’ instructed Ronin.
‘How can I? I’m always falling off!’ said Hana, rubbing her rear.
Ronin scowled at her. ‘Don’t interrupt! If you want to learn, keep your mouth shut.’
Hana nodded obediently and sealed her lips.
‘A rigid body is easily knocked off centre,’ he explained. ‘A flexible fighter, one relaxed as if drunk, can easily dodge, recoil and strike from any angle. To master the art of balance you need to find your centre.’
Hana spotted Jack. ‘I’ve saved you some food,’ she said, pointing to a dish piled high with rice and fish. Then