The driver rose from his knees.

“But first, come with me to Kyoto!” he insisted. “My wine will fetch a good price, and I can reward you for saving my life.”

“I don’t want money,” said the boy, and strode off.

The driver watched until the boy had almost reached the far end of the clearing, then he called out, “Sir! What’s your name?”

“Jimmu,” said the boy, without looking back. “My name is Jimmu.”

As Jimmu walked in the shade of the trees, he thought of Nichiren. Although he had been dead for months, Nichiren was still very much alive in Jimmu’s memory. Jimmu had spent seven years being trained by Nichiren, and he knew exactly the kind of comments the old samurai would have made about his actions.

If he half closed his eyes, Jimmu could almost see Nichiren marching along beside him—not withered by the wasting illness that had finally killed him, but strong and healthy: the warrior of Jimmu’s childhood.

“You lost your temper and behaved rashly!” Nichiren scolded. “It was only necessary for you to kill the bandit leader. The others were a waste of time and effort.”

“One of them insulted my father!” protested Jimmu, talking to Nichiren in his head.

“You insult your father with your impatience,” Nichiren countered. “You have drawn needless attention to yourself. Stick to our plan. No one must know who or what you are. When you arrive at Mitsukage Castle, be humble and polite. Conceal your skill until an opportunity arises, then strike! But be sure that the time is right. Lord Ankan’s blood will wash away your father’s shame, and you will prove worthy of being called Lord Kensu’s son. Your death will be glorious.”

“Yes, Nichiren.”

“You’re talking to yourself!” snapped Nichiren. “Keep your mouth shut and your mind clear, and perhaps you won’t die like me, gasping out your last breath on a sickbed. Is that the kind of end you want, boy?”

Jimmu shook his head.

2

MITSUKAGE CASTLE ISE PROVINCE

SUMMER 1572

Four days later, at sunset, Jimmu caught his first sight of Mitsukage Castle, though Nichiren had described it so often, it seemed to Jimmu as if he had been there before. The castle was built of wood that had weathered to a silvery gray. Its main tower had two tiers, with roofs that curled up at the edges, so that they resembled the wings of a heron in flight.

Nichiren’s voice echoed through Jimmu’s mind.

“Mitsukage Castle is a lair, and Lord Choju Ankan is the dragon who lurks inside it. His face is as loathsome as a toad’s. His eyes burn with lust for riches and power, and he will stop at nothing to win them. Your father was the best of lords, noble, honorable, fierce in battle and merciful in victory. Ankan is a scheming coward who hides behind the courage of others, waiting for the chance to betray them. Never underestimate his slyness. Believe none of his honeyed words; there’s poison in their sweetness. Use the glow of your hatred to see him for what he is. Strike him down for your father’s sake, and let your heart be filled with joy.”