‘It’ll certainly dissuade Akuma from charging at speed,’ said Jack, glad that despite the freezing their defence had some effect.

As the humiliated man scrambled to find his feet, Hayato took the opportunity to carefully aim his bow. He released an arrow just as the bandit got to his hands and knees. It soared through the air and struck the man directly in his behind. He howled in pain and hobbled in retreat back to the edge of the paddy field.

‘Just helping him off the ice,’ said Hayato with a smirk.

47 A Deal

47

A DEAL

The bandits spread themselves out in preparation to attack. They glared at the army of ragtag farmers with derision, unfazed by their display of resistance. On Akuma’s command, they rattled their weapons and bellowed a bloodthirsty battle cry, whooping and hollering abuse.

The farmers instinctively backed away from this ferocious display.

‘Hold your lines!’ ordered Jack. ‘Akuma’s just trying to frighten you.’

‘He’s doing a good job of it!’ exclaimed Kunio, trembling so much he was barely able to stand.

‘You wanted to play at being samurai,’ said Hayato sternly. ‘This is your chance. Show some backbone.’

Suddenly Yori appeared at Jack’s side.

‘I ordered you to stay in the watchtower,’ said Jack.

‘You need every samurai to fight this battle,’ replied Yori, striding determinedly forward to stand upon the ridge of the moat. Planting his shakujō in the earth, he drew in a deep breath and yelled back at the bandits, ‘KIAAAI!’

Realizing the guts it would have taken his friend to perform such a bold act, Jack raised his katana and bellowed at the top of his lungs too, urging the farmers to do likewise. Taking courage from Yori’s spirited cry, the farmers clattered their spears and roared their defiance.

‘KIAAAI!’

As the farmers’ battle cry faded, a scornful laugh was heard echoing across the fields.

‘Farmers pretending to be samurai!’ shouted Akuma. ‘I’ve never seen anything so pathetic.’

He rode forward with Sayomi and Nakamura to the border of the next paddy field. Decked out in jet-black armour, the steel plate of his red hachimaki glinting in the morning sun, Akuma was a fearsome sight. He held a barbed trident in one hand and upon his hip were two black-handled swords. Beside him in her blood-red armour, Sayomi had stowed her bow in favour of her lethal double-edged naginata. On his other side, Nakamura brandished his terrifying battleaxe, its blade chipped and worn from use. He was still recognizable by his red scar, but now half his beard was missing, his skin scorched red with burns.

‘If you resist further, you’ll all be slaughtered!’ declared Akuma. ‘Surrender now or face the consequences.’

When the villagers didn’t respond, Akuma continued, ‘Everyone knows that farmers don’t possess the courage or skills to fight. You’d be better off putting a sword in the hand of a child! This is your last –’