Young Samurai_ The Way of the Sword - Chris Bradford [102]
Jack looked to the floor and slowly shook his head. ‘I don’t know.’
‘In that case, we are presented with a difficult dilemma,’ said Masamoto, taking a thoughtful sip of his sencha. ‘Your name and the name of this school have been seen on this challenge declaration around Kyoto. If you pull out of the duel now, you will bring shame not only on yourself, but on the Masamoto name and on the Niten Ichi Ryū.’
‘Can’t you explain that it was a mistake?’ pleaded Jack.
‘It would make no difference. Your challenge has been accepted.’
‘But surely I’m too young to fight a duel?’
‘How old are you?’ asked Sensei Hosokawa.
‘Fourteen this month,’ replied Jack with hope.
‘I fought my first duel at thirteen,’ reminisced Masamoto with a hint of pride. ‘Against one Arima Kibei, a famous swordsman back then. He too put up a sign appealing for challengers. I was an impetuous boy at the time, so naturally put my name down. In fact, I see a great deal of myself in you, Jack-kun. At least, sometimes. That’s why, I must admit, I’m a little disappointed that you didn’t actually issue the challenge; and even more disappointed that I find out you’ve been lying to me.’
Jack felt his cheeks flush with shame and could no longer meet his guardian’s eyes.
‘But no matter,’ continued Masamoto. ‘At sundown you will honour this school and prove yourself a mighty young samurai of the Niten Ichi Ryū.’
Jack’s jaw dropped in disbelief. ‘But I haven’t sparred with a real sword yet!’
‘Neither had I,’ retorted Masamoto, with a dismissive wave of the hand. ‘I defeated Arima with my bokken.’
It was then that Jack realized he was to be given no option. He would have to fight the samurai.
‘Looks like you’ve finally got what you wished for. Your impatience to use your swords in class has caught up with you,’ commented Sensei Hosokawa with a wry smile. ‘I wouldn’t concern yourself too much, though. I’ve seen you practising with your katana in the Southern Zen Garden. Your form’s good. You could survive.’
Could? thought Jack, alarmed by his sensei’s relaxed attitude.
He hoped his chances were better than that.
49
THE DUELLING GROUND
The young samurai lay twitching in the dust, blood spurting from his severed neck across the duelling ground in miniature rivers of red.
The crowd bayed and whistled, hankering for more bloodshed.
Distraught at the young man’s fate, Jack stood at the edge of the makeshift arena of spectators, gripping the hilt of his sword so tightly his knuckles went white and the inlaid metal menuki dug painfully into his palm.
Staring down into the samurai’s eyes, Jack witnessed the life drain from them like the flame of a guttering candle.
‘Next!’ bellowed the formidable warrior, who stood victorious in the centre of the duelling ground. The samurai on his musha shugyo was dressed in a dark red-and-white hakama. He held his katana aloft then brought it down sharply, flicking his opponent’s blood from the blade – chiburi.
Yamato nudged his friend forward. ‘He’s calling for you, Jack.’
‘This is just brilliant, isn’t it?’ said Saburo, as he stuffed an obanyaki into his mouth, the custard filling of the pastry spilling down over his chin.
‘How can you say that?’ exclaimed Akiko.
‘We’ve got to see a duel! I didn’t think we’d get back in time from the Circle of Three.’
‘Saburo,’ said Jack, mortified at his friend’s insensitivity. ‘I’m about to die.’
‘No, you aren’t,’ said Saburo, dismissing the idea with a jovial grin. ‘Masamoto has agreed with your opponent that your match will be to first blood only. You might get a battle scar, but he won’t kill you.’
‘But that last duel was supposed to be to first blood too!’
Saburo opened his mouth to reply, but obviously couldn’t think of anything to say, so he took another bite of his obanyaki instead.
‘That challenger was just unlucky, Jack,’ said Yamato, trying to calm him. ‘He pressed forward at the wrong