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‘I didn’t want to tell you, Jack, but the daimyo Kamakura supposedly did kill a Christian priest. There was a sign about it in the street…’

Saburo trailed off as he saw the blood drain from Jack’s face.

Listening to his friend’s revelation, Jack felt the warmth of the midday sun disappear, a chill running down his spine like a sliver of ice. So Kazuki had been telling the truth. Jack had to know more and was about to ask Saburo when, turning a corner into a large square, he was suddenly confronted by the gleaming blade of a samurai sword.

Held high in the air by a warrior in a dark-blue kimono with the kamon of a bamboo shoot, the arc of lethal metal was poised to strike. All thoughts of Kamakura and the dead priest were wiped from Jack’s mind.

But the blade wasn’t directed at Jack – rather at a battle-hardened warrior, dressed in a plain brown kimono with the kamon of a crescent moon and star, standing motionless three sword lengths from his opponent.

‘A duel!’ exclaimed Saburo with a yelp of delight, dragging Jack out of the way. ‘Quick, over here!’

A crowd had gathered in the duelling ground. Some of them eyed Jack’s arrival with suspicion, whispering to one another behind their hands. Even the warrior in blue glanced over, distracted from the impending duel by the strange spectacle of a blond-haired foreigner dressed in a kimono.

Jack ignored them. He was used to the curiosity he generated wherever he went.

‘Hello, Jack. I didn’t expect to see you here.’

Jack turned to see Emi, dressed in an elegant sea-green kimono, accompanied by her two friends, Cho and Kai, along with an elderly samurai chaperone. The two groups of students bowed to one another.

‘Why are they fighting?’ Jack asked Emi as she took up position by his side.

‘The samurai in blue is on his musha shugyo,’ replied Emi.

The warrior who had been distracted by Jack’s appearance was several years younger than his opponent, who looked about thirty. His kimono was dusty and faded in patches and his face weathered by the elements.

‘What’s a musha shugyo?’ asked Jack.

‘It’s a warrior pilgrimage. When samurai finish their training, they go on a quest throughout Japan to test their strength and refine their fighting skills. Warriors challenge one another to prove who is the best.’

‘The loser can be knocked out or disabled, and sometimes even killed!’ interrupted Saburo, a little too enthusiastically for Jack’s liking.

‘Killed? That seems a rather idiotic way to test yourself.’

‘Well, how else are they going to know if they’re any good or not?’ replied Emi matter-of-factly.

Jack turned his attention to the two contesting samurai. They stared at one another. Neither seemed willing to make the first move. In the heat of the midday sun, a bead of sweat ran down the side of the blue-clothed warrior’s face, but he disregarded it.

‘Why isn’t he attacking?’ asked Jack.

‘They’re trying to hide any weaknesses they may have,’ Yamato answered. ‘My father told me that even the smallest movement can reveal a flaw in your fighting technique, which your opponent can then take advantage of.’

The crowd, sensing the growing tension, was now motionless too. Even the children gathered round the edges were quiet. The only sound that could be heard was the chime of temple bells marking the beginning of midday prayers.

The samurai in blue shifted uneasily and dust swirled in little eddies across the ground. His opponent, however, remained perfectly calm, his sword still sheathed inside its saya.

Then as the last ring of temple bells died away, the older samurai withdrew his katana in one fluid movement.

The crowd shuffled backwards.

The duel had begun.

The two samurai circled one another warily.

Suddenly the warrior in blue screamed, ‘KIAI!’

Brandishing his sword, he advanced on the older samurai. Ignoring this display of bravado, the older man merely dropped back into a wide stance, side-on to his enemy. At the same time, he raised his own sword over his head then dropped it down behind his body, so that his opponent could no longer see his blade.