Chapter 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 time and got caught in the neck. An

accident, that's all. It won't happen to you.'

Despite his friend's attempt at reassurance, Jack was still doubtful.

'Jack!' came a familiar cry, and the crowd opened up to let a small boy

through.

Yori hobbled over, helped by Kiku.

'You should be in bed,' chided Jack. 'Your leg –'

'Don't worry about me,' interrupted Yori, leaning on his crutch. 'You

were there for me when I needed you. Besides, I had to bring you this.'

Yori handed him an origami crane. It was tiny, smaller than a cherryblossom petal, but perfectly formed.

'Thanks,' said Jack, 'but I've still got the one you gave me.'

'Yes, but this one's special. I finally finished Senbazuru Orikata. This

is the thousandth crane. The one that holds the wish.'

For a brief moment, the little bird in Jack's hand seemed to flutter with

hope.

'I'm praying my wish can protect you, just as you saved my life,'

explained Yori with a hopeful look in his eyes.

Overwhelmed by his friend's compassion, Jack bowed, then tenderly

slipped the little bird into the folds of his obi.

Masamoto strode over. 'Are you ready?'

Jack gave an unconvincing nod of his head.

'You needn't fear. You have my first swords,' Masamoto reassured

him. 'They will serve you well. Just remember to carefully judge the

distance between yourself and your adversary. Bring him into your sphere

of attack. Draw him out. Whatever you do, don't let him draw you in.'

Jack bowed his appreciation for the advice.

'If you fight with courage,' said Masamoto, speaking low so no one

else would overhear, 'you may yet regain your honour and my respect.'

Masamoto returned to his commanding position in the crowd. Jack

now felt even more pressure to succeed. He had been given a chance to

redeem himself in his guardian's eyes.

Sensei Kano now approached.

'How's your foot?' asked Jack.

Sensei Kano laughed. 'That's what I like about you, Jack-kun. Always

thinking of others before yourself. But what about your predicament? It'll

soon be sunset, won't it? So try to attack your enemy at a point where the

dying sun shines into his eyes.'

He gripped Jack's shoulders, then let go reluctantly to step aside for

Sensei Yosa.

'Maintain your centre and stay balanced. I have faith that you will

survive,' she said. Then she tenderly touched Jack's cheek with the back of

her hand. 'But if that samurai harms more than a hair on your head, I'll

make a pincushion of him with my arrows.'

Everyone seemed to want to offer Jack advice, even Sensei Kyuzo

who, on his way to join the other sensei, said abruptly, 'Ichi-go, ichi-e.

You'll only get one chance. Don't make it your last.' The little knot of a

man threw Jack a twisted grin, as if it hurt him to smile, then strolled off.

Jack didn't feel any better for the taijutsu master's counsel, and his

mood plummeted further when he saw Kazuki and his Scorpion Gang

swagger over, Moriko close by his side, her black teeth accentuated by her

chalk-white face.

Then Kazuki stepped forward and bowed.

'Good luck, Jack,' he said, apparently in earnest.

'Err… thank you,' mumbled Jack, caught unawares by Kazuki's

sincerity. Perhaps Kazuki wasn't responsible for entering his name after all.

Then, with a straight face, Kazuki asked, 'Can I have your swords after

he's finished with you?'

The Scorpion Gang sniggered uncontrollably, revelling in their little

joke, then they all strode away, laughing.

Akiko unexpectedly took Jack's hand in hers to comfort him. 'Ignore

them, Jack. Don't forget what the High Priest said: your spirit is your true

shield.'

'Fudoshin!' suggested Kiku helpfully. 'You'll need that for the fight

too.'

'And remember what Sensei Kano taught us,' Yamato added. 'The

eyes are the windows to your mind, so make sure you fight without eyes.'

'Have you eaten?' asked Saburo, offering Jack a skewer of chicken. 'A

samurai should never fight on an empty stomach, you know.'

Jack shook his head, thoroughly bewildered by the onslaught of

advice.

At that moment, Emi pushed through the crowd and presented Jack

with a posy of yellow and red camellia.

'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 challenge.

Jack recalled Sensei Hosokawa's words: 'The three evils for a samurai

are fear, doubt and confusion.'

He had defeated his fear.

He had overcome his confusion.

Now there was only doubt.

Jack studied the callous face of his opponent. The man's grey eyes

gave nothing away.

Not for the first time, Jack found himself staring into the face of death.

This time, though, he wouldn't hesitate.

Jack noticed the samurai held his kissaki slightly too low, exposing a

way in straight to the neck.

To every spectator watching, the attack was so quick that it was like

the blur of a startled bird. Jack knocked the samurai's sword to one side and

struck at his target.

The blade whistled through the air.

And missed.

For the samurai, it had all been part of his plan. Enticing Jack in with

an opportunity and countering with a driving thrust to the stomach that

began at Jack's bottom rib and finished its cut at the base of his belly.

A great cry of anguish broke from Akiko, Emi and the others, as Jack

was skewered on the samurai's sword.