Young Samurai_ The Way of the Sword - Chris Bradford [27]
Sensei Yamada got up and walked Jack to the Buddha Hall’s entrance. From the top of the stone steps, he pointed across the rooftops to Nijo Castle.
‘As you’re well aware, the ruling lord here in Kyoto is daimyo Takatomi. But daimyo Takatomi is not just responsible for this province. He governs Japan as one of the appointed regents and he’s popular among the samurai lords. He likes Christians and foreigners. In fact, he likes them so much, I’ve heard that he’s converting to Christianity himself. So he wouldn’t allow anything like that to happen here.’
Sensei Yamada smiled and placed a reassuring hand on Jack’s shoulder.
‘Jack, you are perfectly safe.’
14
INTRUDER
Following Sensei Yamada’s reassurance that his fears were unfounded, Jack would have been in good spirits that evening had Yamato not reminded him of Sensei Kyuzo’s punishment. So, while everyone folded cranes and sought a solution to Sensei Yamada’s koan, Jack was hard at work polishing block after block of the Butokuden’s training area.
The wooden floor seemed as vast as an ocean to Jack as he rocked back and forth with the polishing oil, his shadow ebbing and flowing like a tiny wave across its surface.
‘Put your back into it!’ snarled Sensei Kyuzo, who was eating his dinner in the ceremonial alcove of the large hall.
The tantalizing aroma of grilled mackerel wafted past and Jack’s stomach rumbled with hunger.
‘I’ll return in the morning,’ the sensei suddenly announced, having finished his meal, ‘and I expect the Butokuden to be gleaming. Or else you will miss breakfast too.’
‘Hai, Sensei,’ Jack mumbled, bowing his head all the way to the floor.
However much he despised this samurai, he had to show the appropriate respect.
When Sensei Kyuzo had left, Jack resumed his punishment. He had no intention of being here in the morning and intended to work until his fingers were raw and his knees felt like granite, if need be.
Despite the injustice of the punishment, Jack found solace in the chore. He was reminded of all the times he’d had to holystone the decks of the Alexandria. Though it had meant toiling under the blistering heat of a Pacific sun with the rest of the crew, the task had been necessary work to maintain the ship, not a punishment. Scouring the decks became a time of songs and merry tales, when friendships were made and worries forgotten.
He was reminded of Ginsel, his shark-toothed friend, who now lay dead at the bottom of the ocean. He missed their camaraderie. In fact, he missed all the crew, even the Bosun, who had kept the men in check with the threat of the cat-o’-nine-tails!
But most of all, he missed his father. His murder had left a gaping hole in Jack’s life. His father had been the one he’d always turned to, the one who had guided and protected him, the one who had believed in him.
Jack wiped an unexpected tear from his eye and turned back to the task in hand.
The moon had nearly completed its arc across the heavens by the time Jack had polished every block of the wooden floor. The inky black sky was showing the first signs of dawn on the horizon as he emerged from the Butokuden, exhausted and light-headed with hunger.
At least breakfast would soon be served, thought Jack. Not that he was particularly looking forward to it. Miso soup, cold fish and rice were hard to stomach early in the morning. How he longed for a normal English breakfast of crusty buttered bread, fried eggs and ham.
Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of a movement on the opposite side of the courtyard. At first he thought his eyes were deceiving him, for who else would be up at this time?
He looked harder.
A shadow flitted along the edge of the Hall of Lions.
Whoever it was, they didn’t want to be seen. Dressed all in black, the figure kept close to the wall and barely made a sound as it crept towards the entrance of the Hall of Lions, where the students slept.
Jack’s senses went on alert. The intruder looked like a ninja.
Retreating behind the Butokuden