“No, My Lord,” replied Jimmu.

“I find it soothing,” Lord Ankan said. “The marks on the paper draw me into other worlds. If my life had been different, I think that I might have been a painter.”

His voice was stiff, as if he felt awkward at making this personal revelation.

“No man can escape his destiny, My Lord,” said Jimmu.

Lord Ankan turned his head to give Jimmu a searching look.

“Many believe their lives are stories that have already been written, and so can’t be changed,” he said. “But it sometimes seems to me that we write our own stories, and decide our own destinies.”

Jimmu could not decide whether these words were wise or the delusions of a power-crazed tyrant who believed that he could control the course of history.

“The last time we met, you spoke of your desire to be a samurai,” Lord Ankan said. “Is that still your wish?”

“Yes, My Lord.”

“We’ll see,” said Lord Ankan. “I’m promoting you out of the guard. You’ll serve as a trainee bodyguard. Captain Muraki will supervise your training. After you leave me, you will go with him to the archery hall. Your things will be brought to your new accommodation in the private quarters.”

Jimmu felt frustrated. If he attempted to kill Lord Ankan, he would be cut down by the samurai. There was no point in wasting his life making an attack that was doomed to fail.

He bowed. “Yes, My Lord. Thank you, My Lord.”

Jimmu turned to go. To his surprise, his frustration at failing to kill Lord Ankan was mixed with relief at still being alive, and he felt strangely proud of his promotion.

In the private quarters, you will be closer to Lord Ankan, he thought. You will have more opportunities to kill him.

“Jimmu?” Lord Ankan said.

“My Lord?” said Jimmu, turning back.

“Thank you for saving my daughter from my enemies.”

Jimmu did not know what answer to make, and bowed again.

As he walked with Captain Muraki through the private quarters, Jimmu recalled a summer’s day when, as a sulky thirteen-year-old, he had rebelled against his training, complaining that it was too difficult.

Instead of beating Jimmu, as he would normally have done, Nichiren punished him with words.

“You have spoken childishly, boy,” he said. “You have no idea how fortunate you are. Most people lead lives that have no direction or meaning. You have a purpose, you know why you are on this earth, and what you have to do. Keep to that purpose. Without it, you are nothing but a traitor’s son and an outcast.”

Jimmu overcame his sense of failure. Today had not been his day to kill Lord Ankan, but the day would come.

“Patience,” Nichiren’s memory advised. “Fate will show you the right time and place. When Choju Ankan least expects it, when he is at the height of victory, or in the depths of despair, you will offer him up to death.”