Young Samurai _ The Way Of The Dragon - Chris Bradford [10]
The rutter was also his last link to his father and his only chance of a secure future. He’d had to do all he could to protect it. If one day he ever did reach the port of Nagasaki, his experience as a rigging monkey and his ability as a navigator would hopefully gain him passage on-board a ship bound for England where Jess, his little sister, was still waiting for his return.
Or at least he hoped she was. Without a family in England, her future was as uncertain as his. But with the rutter he could look after both of them as the respected pilot of a ship, just like his father had been before Dragon Eye murdered him in cold blood.
The deadly steel of the tantō seemed to throb in Jack’s hand at the very thought of Dragon Eye garrotting his father. Revenge flashed through his mind. Everything Jack held dear to him had been taken by that ninja – his father, the rutter and almost Akiko’s life too.
When Jack and his father had set out with the Dutch crew of the Alexandria from England four years ago, they had dreamt of discovering new lands, making their fortune and returning home heroes. Not for one moment had Jack thought he would end up alone, in a dangerous foreign land, training to be a samurai warrior.
But now he wouldn’t even be doing that.
‘Where did you get that knife?’ demanded the owner of the tea house, breaking Jack’s thoughts as the old man cleared away their cups of sencha.
‘We found it… in a forest,’ Jack replied, the question taking him by surprise.
The proprietor’s beady eyes studied him with an unsettling intensity. He clearly didn’t believe Jack.
‘Do you know what that is?’ the old man enquired, his gaze not leaving Jack’s face, almost as if he was unwilling to look back down at the knife.
‘It’s a tantō…’
‘Yes, but not just any tantō…’ The proprietor drew closer and spoke under his breath, not with reverence, but with fear. ‘That knife was forged by the swordsmith Kunitome-san.’
‘We know,’ interjected Yamato, annoyed by the owner’s prying. ‘It says so on the blade.’
‘You know! Yet you still keep it?’
‘Why not?’ asked Jack, baffled by the owner’s strange behaviour.
‘Surely you’ve heard that Kunitome-san’s swords are evil. They’re not the weapons of a virtuous samurai,’ he explained, looking at Yamato. ‘Kunitome-san’s work is infamous round these parts. He resides but ten ri west of here in the village of Shindo.’
At the mention of the village’s name, Jack glanced over at Akiko and Yamato. Both their faces registered the same astonishment he felt. This was too much of a coincidence.
‘Kunitome-san is a violent man and possesses an ill-balanced mind, some say verging on madness,’ confided the proprietor. ‘These traits are said to pass into his blades. Such a weapon as yours hungers for blood, impels their owner to commit murder!’
Jack gazed down at the tantō. It looked like any other knife, but then he recalled the throb of revenge it triggered in him when he thought of his father’s death.
‘We appreciate your concern,’ said Akiko, a wry smile on her lips, ‘but we’re too old to believe in such superstitions. You can’t scare us.’
‘I’m not trying to scare you. I’m trying to warn you.’
The proprietor put down his tray.
‘If you would allow me to tell you a story, then you might understand.’
Akiko politely acknowledged his request with a nod of her head and the old man knelt beside them.
‘Kunitome-san is a student of the greatest swordsmith to have ever lived, Shizu-san of the Soshu School of Sword-making. Several years ago, Kunitome-san challenged his master to see who could make the finer sword. They both worked at their forges day and night. Eventually Kunitomesan produced a magnificent weapon he called Juuchi Yosamu, Ten Thousand Cold Nights. Shizu-san also completed his, which he named Yawaraka-Te, Tender Hands. With both swords finished, they agreed to test the results.
‘The contest was for each