They gazed over the freezing paddy fields as the last rays of the sun disappeared and the sky began to fill with stars. Glancing down at the moat, Yori spotted Miyuki crouching at its edge.

‘What’s she doing?’ he asked.

‘Looking for weaknesses and gaps, I presume,’ Jack replied, admiring her commitment to the cause. ‘She’s walked the whole stretch this evening.’

‘It’s good to have a ninja on our side,’ said Yori unexpectedly.

‘I wish everyone saw it that way.’

‘I believe they do,’ replied Yori, looking over towards the bridge. ‘But samurai pride won’t allow them to admit it.’

Snow began to fall around them and settle on the ground.

‘A storm’s brewing,’ Yori observed, hugging himself against the icy wind that blew across the plain.

Jack looked up. Dark clouds gradually extinguished each of the stars, a thin sliver of moon barely visible in the sky.

Tomorrow, even that would be gone.

41 Fear

41

FEAR

The next day the snow lay crisp and even over the plain, a chill blanket muffling all sound and stripping the world of features. The village, tiny against the mountains, was the sole island in this sea of white. Keeping watch over the deserted landscape, both farmers and young samurai found it hard to believe that, in a few hours with the coming of the black moon, Tamagashi would turn into a bloody battleground.

On Hayato’s suggestion, a guard rota had been organized so that everyone’s strength would be preserved for the fight itself. A small contingent of farmers was assigned to each defence, while a young samurai patrolled the village, ready to raise the alarm at a moment’s notice.

So far it had all been quiet.

Jack was finishing his rounds when he heard a clink of armour. Coming to relieve him of his duty, Saburo was dressed in full battle garb – he wore a skirted breastplate of red lacquered leather, decorative gold and brown shin guards and a pair of heavy black gauntlets. From his shoulders hung blue rectangular pads for protecting his upper torso and on his head was a bronzed helmet with curving red horns. The final touch was a menpō across his face, a gruesome half-mask with razor-teeth and a hook nose, designed to protect the wearer and at the same time instil fear in the enemy.

Cocooned within his layers of armour, Saburo waded stiffly through the snow over to Jack.

‘You’ll collapse with exhaustion wearing all that!’ exclaimed Jack, staring in astonishment at his friend.

‘I’m not taking any chances!’ Saburo replied, only his eyes and black bushy brows visible, his voice slightly muffled behind the mask. ‘Not after what happened last time.’

‘Better safe than sorry,’ agreed Jack. Having experienced the pain of an arrow wound himself, he understood Saburo’s precautions. But with the Two Heavens sword technique at his disposal, Jack favoured freedom of movement over protection of armour.