‘It was anarchy,’ said Saburo, holding his head in his hands. His unit had been the hardest to control and he’d almost been trampled by them during a marching exercise.

‘Remember, the Way of the Warrior is unfamiliar to the farmers.’

‘Well, it certainly doesn’t come naturally to them!’ Saburo exclaimed. ‘That Kunio boy had his spear upside-down!’

Jack was dismayed with the training session too. He tried to convince himself the farmers had made some progress. But if they continued at their present rate, their army would be little more than a chaotic mob. And with the black moon fast approaching, they didn’t have time for individual tuition.

‘What do you think we should do, Hayato?’ he asked, aware the boy had been unusually quiet since their return.

Hayato didn’t reply, his brow knitted, deep in thought.

Then, glancing round at the others, he said, ‘Neko’s sword is bothering me.’

‘We’ve already discussed this,’ said Miyuki wearily.

‘I’m not disputing the decision,’ replied Hayato, glaring at her. ‘I’m simply wondering whose sword it is.’

‘Well, it’s not mine.’

‘And my nodachi’s on the bed,’ said Yuudai, pointing to the massive blade lying across his straw mattress.

‘As a monk, I don’t carry one,’ Yori explained with a smile.

Jack patted the daishō on his hip. ‘Both my swords are here.’

‘I’ve got mine too,’ said Saburo, holding up his shiny untested blades.

‘My point exactly!’ said Hayato. ‘We all have our weapons and the farmers aren’t supposed to have swords, so where did she get hers?’

They all turned to Neko, who was merrily preparing their dinner, her mystery katana propped up in the corner.

‘I’ll ask her,’ Miyuki offered. She came back a moment later. ‘Neko says she found it.’

‘But where did she find it?’ demanded Hayato.

‘She’ll show us after dinner.’

They dug into their usual meal of plain white rice and steamed vegetables. Once finished, everyone put on overcoats against the night chill and followed Neko outside. She led them across the square and, to their surprise, came to a halt in front of the rice store. Pulling back the large wooden doors, Neko held up an oil lamp she’d taken from the farmhouse. Its flickering light illuminated a cavernous barn with a hard-packed earthen floor. Bales of rice, wrapped in their own straw, were stacked five high upon rough wooden planks down each side.

‘Appears to be plenty of rice,’ remarked Saburo.

‘For you, maybe!’ Miyuki snorted. ‘The store’s half empty and this stock has to last the entire village until spring!’