‘I’ll prove how powerful these techniques are!’ said an indignant Saburo to his students.

Raising his right hand, he clenched it into a hammerfist and, with an almighty KIAI, brought it smashing down on to the wood. His fist demolished the board in a single blow, splinters flying in all directions.

The gathered farmers burst into spontaneous applause.

‘He’s improved since last time!’ remarked Yori.

Jack nodded his agreement, although he noticed the triumphant Saburo quietly massaging his hand behind his back.

As the applause faded, an old man muttered, ‘That’s easy.’

Saburo glared at the farmer, annoyed to have his impressive demonstration brought into question.

‘Why don’t you try then?’ Saburo challenged, and set up another board.

Much to his and everyone else’s surprise, the old man shuffled to the front. He was little more than skin and bone, and Jack wondered if the ageing farmer still had all his wits about him.

Standing in front of the board, the old man examined it briefly. Then, turning round, he picked up an axe. With one easy swing, he chopped straight through the wood.

The rest of the farmers fell about laughing, as did Jack and Yori.

‘B-b-but that’s cheating!’ exclaimed an outraged Saburo.

The old man shrugged. ‘You samurai make things so much harder than they need be!’

27 Thorn Bushes

27

THORN BUSHES

The days passed quickly. Too quickly. With each setting of the sun, the threat of Black Moon drew nearer. No one spoke of Akuma out loud, but he was on everyone’s mind. The earlier episodes of playfulness and light-hearted jesting disappeared, to be replaced by a grim determination. Alongside the daily training of the army, the defence preparations continued unabated. As the pressure grew, their labours stretched from dawn until late into the night.

On the sixth day before the black moon, Jack heard a great shout from the northern end of the village. Fearing the worst, he sprinted up the track, Yori following close behind.

‘Why haven’t the smoke beacons been lit?’ he demanded, pulling out his katana.

‘The bandits must have used a hidden route!’ Yori panted, his staff in hand, its metal rings jangling as he ran.

Flying round the corner of the last farmhouse, they were met by a great wall of thorns and spikes. Twice the height of a man, the barricade blocked the entire northern approach. Stakes jutted outwards and the sharply pointed pillars threatened to impale anyone foolish enough to climb over.

Yuudai and his team were collapsed in a heap by the secondary wall of hay bales, admiring their construction.

‘The barricade’s finished!’ declared Yuudai, to which the farmers gave another exhausted yet jubilant cry.

‘That is worth shouting about!’ said Jack, sheathing his sword with relief.

Crossing the wooden gangway Yuudai had built over Saburo’s moat, he took a closer inspection of the barrier and could find no obvious weakness.