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Jack hurried over to Akiko. As he approached, she shakily raised her bow and released her arrow, before collapsing to the ground with the effort.

He heard an anguished cry behind. Kazuki, still pinned, dropped the wakizashi he’d been about to throw at Jack. He now stared in horror at the arrow that had gone straight through his sword hand.

Akiko was still breathing, but looked pale and weak.

‘We have to go,’ said Jack, spotting a troop of Red Devils leaving the castle.

Lifting Akiko up on to the horse, he gave a prayer of thanks to Takuan. He needed to ride fast. Faster than he’d ever done before.

As Jack galloped away with the wounded Akiko between his arms, he heard Kazuki screaming.

‘I will have my revenge, gaijin!’

61

SHOGUN

Jack sat beneath the sakura tree, gazing at the ever changing colours of the sky as the sun set red over Toba. In the background he could hear the soothing trickle of the tiny waterfall feeding the stream that wound itself through the garden and into the lily pond. He was surrounded by glorious flowers and shrubs, all lovingly tended and pruned to perfection. The setting was so beautiful, so peaceful, that it was impossible to believe Japan was anywhere but Heaven.

For Jack, the garden was the healing his heart needed. He had to believe that there was still good in this world, still hope in his life. As Yori would say, a peace worth fighting for.

Above his head, buried in the trunk of the tree, was the arrow that had missed Dragon Eye three years before.

It’s to remind us never to lower our guard.

Jack took hold of the shaft and pulled the arrow out.

The shadow that had hunted him was gone.

The assassin that had haunted Masamoto and his family would never return.

Jack snapped the arrow in half.

Such a haven as this was no place for a weapon of war.

An old man with a wispy grey beard tottered over the little bridge towards Jack, his walking stick tapping upon the wooden boards with each step.

‘How is she?’ asked Jack.

‘Akiko’s recovering well,’ replied Sensei Yamada as his gaze fell upon the broken arrow in Jack’s hands. ‘It’ll take more than a single arrow to defeat that young samurai.’

His Zen master looked older and more worn by life than Jack had ever remembered. The fighting had taken its toll on him and the horrors of battle seemed etched into every wrinkle on his face. Sensei Yamada groaned in pain as he eased himself on to the stone bench beside the stream.

‘Are you all right?’ Jack asked.

‘The only thing that will kill me is time,’ he replied wryly, rubbing his knees with a bony hand. ‘The question is, are you all right?’

‘I’ve survived,’ said Jack, without enthusiasm. ‘I know I should be thankful. So many of us didn’t make it. But I feel… empty inside. Guilty too. Guilty that Yamato, my friends and our sensei died for my sake. And for what? Daimyo Kamakura won. What hope is there for a gaijin samurai in Japan now?’

‘When it is dark enough, you can see the stars,’ said Sensei Yamada, looking up into the sky.

Jack shook his head in bewilderment. Here he was admitting his pain, guilt and worry, while Sensei Yamada was stargazing.

‘There’s always hope, even in the worst of times,’ said his Zen master, by way of explanation. ‘Yes, we have lost some dear friends. But we must remember that many survived too, because of their sacrifice. Sensei Kano led our young samurai to safety. Sensei Yosa was spared by the enemy, out of respect to Sensei Hosokawa’s loyalty and courage in defending her. I’ve had no word of Sensei Kyuzo’s fate, but he’s a wily old goat. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s still alive.’

‘But what about Masamoto-sama?’ asked Jack, hoping against hope.

Sensei Yamado smiled. ‘I have good news.’

His smile waned. ‘And some bad.’

Jack held his breath.

‘Daimyo Kamakura didn’t kill Masamoto-sama. But neither did he allow him to commit seppuku and die with honour.’

‘So where is he?’

‘To subdue such a legendary swordsman was a matter of great pride