Young Samurai _ The Way Of The Dragon - Chris Bradford [87]
The students were slow to take their places, morale low since the attack on the Niten Ichi Ryū. The damage Kazuki had inflicted upon the school was proving to be greater than the burning of a few buildings. His defection had struck at the very heart of the Niten Ichi Ryū. The school was splitting into cliques, the students no longer trusting one another, and a great sense of shame hung round everyone’s necks, the dishonour of a samurai-turned-traitor tainting them all.
‘Mind if I join you?’ asked Takuan, who looked exhausted after the long march.
‘Of course not,’ said Jack, making a space for him. Any sense of rivalry over Akiko now seemed irrelevant at a time of war. ‘How are you feeling?’
‘Awful,’ he replied, grimacing as he dropped his kit. ‘My pack rubbed against my ribs all the way –’
‘Hurry up!’ shouted Sensei Kyuzo from the doorway.
Outside they were taken to a large storeroom and supplied with armour. A gruff soldier handed Jack a skirted breastplate consisting of overlapping layers of lacquered leather scales, two large rectangular shoulder pads, a metal helmet with three curved plates that shielded the neck, a pair of heavy gauntlets to protect his hands and, lastly, an ugly metal mask. It covered half of Jack’s face and had a large pointed nose and thick black moustache.
‘What’s this for?’ asked Jack.
‘It’s a menpō,’ growled the soldier irritably. ‘It protects your throat and scares the enemy. Not that you need one with a face like yours!’
He belly-laughed at his own joke. ‘Next!’
Jack joined the others in the courtyard who were trying on their new equipment for size. Studying the array of armour, Jack had no idea where to start.
‘Do you need some help?’ asked Akiko, who was already fully clad in a magnificent turquoise-blue set.
‘How did you put it on so quickly?’
‘I often helped my father with his; even on the day he left for the Battle of Nakasendo. That was the last time I ever saw him.’
A sadness passed across Akiko’s face. Jack knew she still felt the death of her father keenly despite the intervening years. He supposed the loss at such an early age had been one of the reasons Akiko was so intent on becoming a warrior herself. With no older brother in the family, it was her responsibility to take his place and maintain the family honour. Jack could understand her sense of loss. There wasn’t a day that went by when he didn’t think of his own father. But he had a different reason for becoming a samurai – the threat of Dragon Eye.
Akiko passed the breastplate over Jack’s head and was about to tie it in place, when giggles burst forth from the other side of the courtyard. They turned round to see Yori swamped by his armour. His arms were not much longer than the shoulder pads and his breastplate almost touched his knees. But the feature that was generating the most amusement was his helmet. When Yori had put it on, his whole head had disappeared inside and he was now staggering around blind. Yamato rushed to his rescue.
Once fully kitted, Yori having exchanged his helmet for a smaller, but equally ill-fitting one, they stored their armour with their other belongings and headed over to the communal kitchens for food. The long march from Kyoto to Osaka had left Jack starving and he was looking forward to a proper meal. But the only provisions were several balls of cold rice and a watery fish soup.
The students gathered in disgruntled groups to eat their dinner. Yori sat down next to Jack in the courtyard, appearing thoroughly depressed. He picked at his rice, but didn’t eat any.
‘I know it’s not up to the standard of the Chō-no-ma, but at least here we have great views of the castle,’ said Jack, trying to encourage a smile from his friend.
‘We’re really going to war, aren’t we?’ Yori whispered, staring into his soup.
‘Don