That evening, when Jack was summoned to dinner, Hiroko and her son Jiro
sat in their usual places, but the fourth cushion was now occupied by Akiko.
Above her hung the two gleaming samurai swords.
Akiko's presence made Jack feel both elated and awkward at the same
time. She had the finesse of a lady of class, yet possessed an aura of
authority that Jack had never encountered in a girl before. The samurai
Taka-san obeyed her every word and the household bowed very low when
in her company.
Jack had been somewhat surprised that he was not punished for his
escape. In fact, the household appeared more concerned than angry, Uekiya
the gardener especially, and Jack felt a twinge of guilt for worrying the old
man.
After dinner, Akiko led Jack out on to the veranda, where they sat on
plump cushions in the fading evening sunlight. A silence had settled over
the village like a soft blanket and Jack could hear the tentative chirps of
crickets and the trickle of the stream as it wound itself through Ueyika's
immaculate garden.
Akiko sat absorbing the peace and, for the first time in days, Jack
allowed his guard to drop.
Then he noticed Taka-san standing silently in the shadows, his hand
resting upon his sword. Jack instantly tensed. They were taking no chances;
he was being watched now.
A shoji slid open and Chiro brought out a lacquered tray with a
beautifully embellished pot and two small cups. She laid the tray on the
floor and carefully measured out some hot green-coloured water. The liquid
reminded Jack of 'tea', the fashionable new drink Dutch traders had begun
importing into Holland from China.
With both hands, she passed a cup to Akiko, who then offered it to Jack.
Jack took the cup and waited for Akiko to pick up hers, but she signed
for him to drink first. He hesitantly sipped at the steaming brew. It tasted
like boiled grass and he had to force back a grimace at its bitterness. Akiko
then drank from her own cup. A look of quiet contentment spread across
her face.
After several moments of silence, Jack plucked up the courage to speak.
Pointing to the green tea she evidently enjoyed so much, he said, 'What
is this drink called?'
There was a brief pause as Akiko attempted to understand his question
before replying 'Sencha.'
'Sen-cha,' repeated Jack, feeling the word in his mouth and working it
into his memory. He realized he would have to acquire a taste for sencha in
the future. 'And this?' he said, indicating the cup.
'Chawan,' she replied.
'Chawan,' copied Jack.
Akiko quietly applauded and then began pointing at other objects, giving
Jack their Japanese names. She seemed pleased to teach him her language
and Jack was relieved, since this was the first time that anyone had
attempted to properly communicate with him. Jack continued to press for
new words until his head was overflowing with them and it was time to go
to bed.
Taka-san led him back to his room, closing the shoji door behind Jack.
Jack settled down on his futon, but he couldn't sleep. His head whirled
with Japanese words and turbulent emotions. As he lay there in the
darkness, looking at the soft glow of the night lanterns through the walls, he
allowed a sliver of hope to enter his heart. If he could learn the language,
then perhaps he could survive in this strange land. Maybe gain work with a
Japanese crew, get to a port where his fellow countrymen were and, from
there, work his way back to England. Perhaps Akiko was the key. Maybe
she could help him get home!
A shadow shifted on the other side of the paper wall and Jack realized
Taka-san still stood outside, guarding him.
Jack was completing his early morning walk in the garden the following
day, when Jiro came flying round the corner of the veranda.
'Kinasai!' he shouted, dragging Jack to the front entrance of the house.
Jack could barely keep up.
Outside, Akiko and Taka-san were waiting. Akiko wore a shimmering
ivory kimono, embroidered with the image of a crane in flight. She held a
crimson-coloured parasol over her head to keep off the sun.
'Ohayō gozaimasu, Jack,' she said, bowing.
'Ohayō gozaimasu, Akiko,' echoed Jack, wishing her a good morning.
She seemed pleased at his response and they set off down the dirt track
towards the harbour.
At the jetty, they climbed into the boat of Akiko's pearl fisherman, who
rowed them across to the island in the middle of the harbour. As they drew
closer, Jack was astonished to see a huge crowd had gathered along a wide
stretch of the beach in front of the red wooden gateway.
'Ise Jingu Torii,' Akiko said, pointing at the structure.
Jack nodded his understanding. The torii was the colour of evening fire
and the height of a double-storey house. It was constructed from two
upright pillars cut across by two large horizontal beams, the uppermost of
which had a narrow roof of jade-green tiles.
Their small craft landed on the southern tip of the island and they joined
the thronging mass of villagers, women in brightly coloured kimonos and
sword-bearing samurai. The crowd had formed an ordered semi-circle, but
the villagers all bowed and gave way as Akiko and her entourage moved
towards the front, joining a large group of samurai.
The warriors immediately acknowledged Akiko's arrival with a low bow.
Returning their greeting, Akiko then began to converse with a young
samurai boy, who appeared to be of Jack's age, with chestnut-brown eyes
and black spiky hair. The boy threw Jack a disdainful look, before ignoring
him completely.
The villagers, however, were astonished by Jack's presence. They gave
him a wide berth, whispering to one another behind their hands, but Jack
didn't mind since this allowed him a clear view of the makeshift arena.
A lone samurai stood, like an ancient god, under the torii.
The warrior was dressed in a black-and-gold kimono decorated on the
chest, sleeves and back with a circular symbol of four crossed bolts of
lightning. His hairstyle was fashioned in the traditional samurai manner
with a topknot of black hair pulled forward over a shaved pate. This
samurai, though, had tied a thick band of white cloth round his head. Stocky
and powerful, with menacing eyes, the samurai warrior reminded Jack of a
large bulldog, bred for fighting.
In his hands, the warrior held the largest sword Jack had ever seen. The
blade itself stretched over four feet in length, and together with the hilt was
as long as Jack was tall. The warrior, his eyes fixed on the distant shoreline
of the harbour, shifted impatiently and his sword caught the bright sunlight.
For a brief moment it flashed like a bolt of lightning. Seeing the amazement
in Jack's eyes, Akiko whispered its name: 'Nodachi.'
The warrior stood alone in the arena and Jack wondered where the man's
opponent could be. No one else appeared to be preparing for combat. As
Jack looked around the crowd, he noticed that a group of samurai on the
opposite side to him were emblazoned with the same lightning emblem as
the warrior, while those samurai surrounding him bore the round crest of a
phoenix.
So where was their champion?
Jack gauged that an hour must have passed, for the sun had traversed some
fifteen degrees further across the cloudless sky. The heat had intensified and
the villagers were now growing restless. The samurai under the torii had
become even more agitated and paced the beach like a caged tiger.
Another hour went by.
The mutterings of the crowd grew louder as the heat became unbearable.
Jack dreaded what he would have felt like in his old shirt and breeches,
instead of the silken kimono he now wore.
Then, just as the sun reached its zenith, a small boat cast off from the
jetty.
The listless crowd instantly became animated. Jack could see a little
fisherman rowing unhurriedly across the harbour, while a larger man sat
Buddha-like at its prow.
The boat drew closer. The crowd let out a huge cheer and began to chant
'Masamoto! Masamoto! Masamoto!'
Akiko, Taka-san and Jiro joined in the thundering refrain of the samurai's
name.
The group of samurai bearing the lightning crest challenged the call with
a rallying cry of their own champion 'Godai! Godai! Godai!' and the
warrior stepped forward thrusting his nodachi high in the air. His followers
roared even louder.
The boat came to rest on the shoreline. The little fisherman shipped his
oars and waited patiently for his occupant to disembark. Another huge
cheer went up from the crowd as the man stood up and stepped barefoot on
to the beach.
Jack let out an involuntary gasp of surprise. Their champion, Masamoto,
was the man with the scarred face.