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‘For luck,’ she breathed into his ear. ‘Don’t be late for the celebrations tonight.’

Akiko reached between the two of them, graciously offering to hold the flowers for Jack. Emi gave her a civil smile and handed them over, though her eyes revealed annoyance.

‘It’s time, Jack-kun,’ said Sensei Hosokawa, summoning him over to where the musha shugyo samurai waited, sword in hand.

‘Mushin,’ Sensei Hosokawa whispered into Jack’s ear, having formally introduced Jack to his opponent, Sasaki Bishamon.

‘But you said it would take me years to master mushin,’ protested Jack as Sensei Hosokawa performed a final check on his sword for him.

‘You no longer have the grace of time,’ he replied, looking Jack in the eye. ‘You have trained hard and you have completed the Circle. As long as you expect nothing and are ready for anything in this fight, mushin is within your grasp. Let your sword become no sword.’

With that last piece of counsel, he handed back the katana and left Jack alone to face his opponent in the centre of the bloodstained duelling ground.

Up close, Sasaki Bishamon appeared exactly like the God of War his name proclaimed him to be. Scars were visible on both his arms like long, dead snakes and his eyes were as hard and heartless as if they had been chiselled from granite. It was clear even in the way he stood that this samurai was no novice fighter. He had duelled his way across Japan.

What alarmed Jack the most, though, was the kamon emblazoned on the jacket of the man’s gi and his white headband. A circle of four black scorpions.

Jack’s first dream of the year flashed before his eyes and he recalled Sensei Yamada’s reading. Scorpions symbolized treachery. Four meant death. He had encountered Kazuki’s Scorpion Gang, the scorpion in the Spirit challenge and now this warrior’s family crest. Was the samurai himself the fourth scorpion?

‘I see you’ve already dressed for your funeral. How appropriate, gaijin,’ laughed the samurai, pointing at Jack’s chest.

Confused, Jack looked down at his own gi. In his haste to get ready for the duel, he had folded the right lapel over the left, like a corpse prepared for burial! Why hadn’t anyone noticed this before?

‘Soon there’ll be one less gaijin in the world!’ shouted someone in the crowd.

‘Make his first blood his last!’ cried another spectator.

These heckles were followed by a cacophony of cheering and jeering, the spectators seemingly split between gaijin supporters and haters.

The shouts grew louder and Jack became disorientated with the noise, heat and confusion of the duelling ground. His head whirled like a storm from all the advice he’d been given. He started to hyperventilate and Sensei Yamada, noticing his panic, shuffled to his side.

‘Take a deep breath. You need to focus on the fight.’

‘Sensei, I can’t. He’s going to kill me. Tell me what to do.’

‘Nobody can give you wiser counsel than yourself,’ replied Sensei Yamada, laying a reassuring hand on Jack’s trembling sword arm to steady it. ‘Act on the advice you would give to others. Consider what that would be.’

‘Come on, you little urchin! No more time-wasting!’ shouted the samurai, kicking at the dust.

‘Don’t be afraid of fear itself,’ replied Jack without thinking.

Sensei Yamada nodded. ‘Exactly. Remember – this samurai’s flesh and blood. He’s no Mountain Monk.’

The air was dreadfully dry. Jack’s tongue felt like it was caked in dust. He tried to lick his lips, but fear seemed to have drained his mouth of all moisture.

The tips of their opposing kissaki glinted golden red in the dying light of the day. Jack made a final adjustment to his grip on the sword. Masamoto’s katana, although heavier than his bokken, was well balanced, the steel sharp and the blade true. Over the past months of practice, Jack had performed so many cuts with the weapon, he swore he could hear the sword whispering to him.

A calm gradually descended over him.

He was no longer scared but tense. Like the rope of a hangman’s noose, he might snap at any moment, but he had already faced down and conquered his fear during the Spirit