Young Samurai_ The Way of the Sword - Chris Bradford [28]
So Dragon Eye had finally returned.
‘Another time, gaijin! The rutter is not forgotten.’ The ninja’s words resounded in Jack’s head. He cursed himself for not having spoken with Emi yet to arrange going back to Nijo Castle to hide the logbook. But Jack had foolishly begun to think that Yamato had been right and that Dragon Eye had died from his wounds, for there had been no sight or sound of his sworn enemy for months.
But it appeared that Dragon Eye wasn’t dead.
Akiko had suggested that the ninja, as an assassin for hire, had simply been employed by someone else on another mission. Clearly that assignment was over and he’d returned to finish his original job.
The figure in black reached the doorway and, as it turned to enter the Shishi-no-ma, the moonlight caught the intruder’s face.
Jack drew back in surprise. It was a fleeting glimpse, but he could have sworn it was Akiko.
15
SENSEI KANO
Jack sprinted across the courtyard.
Reaching the doorway, he slid back the shoji and peered in. All of the lamps had burnt out so it was hard to see anything, but the corridor seemed empty.
He silently made his way down the girls’ corridor towards Akiko’s room. When he got there, he found that her door was slightly ajar. He peeked in through the gap.
Akiko was fast asleep under the covers of her futon – and looked like she had been there for some time.
Seeing her asleep, Jack became aware of just how exhausted he was. Suffering from hunger and lack of sleep, could he have imagined the intruder?
He decided he would speak with Akiko in the morning, but now the pull of his own bed was too much to resist and he stumbled back to his room. Collapsing on to his futon, Jack’s mind whirled. He stared at his Daruma Doll, willing himself to sleep, and after a while he felt his eyelids grow heavy.
He could have sworn he’d closed his eyes for only a moment before Yamato was at his door, the bright morning sunshine flooding his room.
‘Come on, Jack!’ said Yamato, rousing him out of bed. ‘You’ve missed breakfast and Sensei Kano’s said we’re to meet at the Butokuden right now. We’ve got our first lesson in the Art of the Bō.’
Leaving the bustle of Kyoto city behind, the students crossed the wide wooden bridge that spanned the Kamogawa River and headed north-east in the direction of Mount Hiei. Despite being the tail end of summer, the weather was warm and dry, the sky cloudless, and in the sharp light of morning the burnt-out temples, that could be seen scattered over the mountain’s forested slopes, glinted like broken teeth.
The enormous bulk of Sensei Kano, a mountain in himself, strode out in front, his great white bō staff striking the ground with each step. Like sheep following their shepherd, his students trailed behind in two regimented rows, their pace dictated by the rhythmic thunk-thunk of the sensei’s staff.
As instructed, the class had gathered outside the Butokuden to await their new teacher. Jack and the others had been watching the early morning workers digging the foundations for the new Hall of the Hawk when Sensei Kano appeared. He acknowledged his students with a brief bow before instructing them to collect a wooden bō staff from a pile stacked against the weapons wall inside the Butokuden. They had then left the school at a brisk march.
Their teacher hadn’t spoken a word since.
By the time they reached the foot of the mountain, the morning sun had risen high in the sky. The forced march, combined with the dust of the road, soon left the students hot and thirsty, so the cool shade of the cedar trees was a welcome relief when they entered the forest and began their ascent of Mount Hiei.
As they weaved their way up its slope, the students spread out a little and Jack finally spotted an opportunity to speak with Akiko.
‘So where do you think Sensei Kano’s taking us?’ he asked nonchalantly.
‘Enryakuji, I presume.’
‘Why there? Didn’t you tell me a samurai general destroyed it?’
‘Yes, General Nobunaga.’
‘So what’s there left to see?’ asked Jack.
‘Nothing.