He strode over to the blacksmith’s hut, found the iron bar and hammer, and began clanging it loudly.

‘BANDITS! BANDITS!’ he screamed at the top of his voice.

Startled by the sudden alarm, the villagers scrambled in all directions. Units collided with one another and spears became entangled as they ran in panic to their prearranged defensive positions.

Hayato walked back with a resigned expression. ‘Not even close to being ready.’

The drill practice continued late into the evening. The light was almost gone, yet still they trained. The false alarm had proved to all the young samurai and their units that much more needed to be done. And they committed every last bit of energy to instructing and encouraging the exhausted farmers.

‘Drill number one again!’ ordered Hayato, his voice hoarse from shouting. ‘The lines mustn’t break like that. Remember, in a storm a single tree falls, but a forest still stands. How many times must I tell you?’

As the farmers dragged their worn-out bodies into formation for the umpteenth time, Toge threw his spear to the ground. ‘I’ve had enough!’

He stomped off, but Hayato leapt from the veranda and seized his arm.

‘Never desert your post!’ growled Hayato.

Toge tried to shake Hayato off. ‘Let me go! I’m not one of your samurai.’

‘That’s the problem,’ replied Hayato, releasing him with disgust. ‘You give in so easily. As samurai, we don’t have that choice. We must fight. It’s our fate.’

‘Well, it wasn’t my fate!’ Toge shouted, his cheeks flushed with anger. ‘I was born a farmer – not a samurai. This training is too little, too late. All too late!’

Stamping on his bamboo spear, he snapped it in half and stormed off.

‘Toge’s right,’ mumbled an old man. ‘We’re fooling ourselves. We’ll never be warriors.’

This was met with a murmur of defeated consent. As the despondency spread, more and more farmers lowered their spears and trudged back to their homes.

The young samurai watched helpless as their army disbanded.

Saburo shook his head regretfully. ‘Now I understand why my father says the farmers need us more than we need them. They may grow the rice, but they don’t have the will to protect it for our nation.’

With army training cut short, the young samurai drifted back to the farmhouse, Hayato kicking at the snow in frustration. As Jack started to follow, Sora shuffled over to him.

‘I must apologize for Toge’s behaviour,’ he said, bowing low. ‘He’s always upset near the time of the black moon. His wife was killed by Akuma in last year’s raid – for hiding a handful of rice to feed their little boy.’

Jack glanced at the shadowy figure of Toge, crouching on his own by the pond. ‘He has a son?’

Sora woefully shook his head. ‘Not any more.’

The old farmer then walked away, dragging his spear behind him.