Captain Muraki was seated on a dais. He had replaced his armor with a dark gray silk kimono. Apparently engrossed in reading a scroll, the captain did not react when Jimmu entered, other than to murmur, “Sit down.”

Jimmu sat.

The captain continued to read.

“Why do you wish to serve Lord Ankan?” he asked abruptly.

Jimmu understood that Captain Muraki’s brisk manner was supposed to catch him unawares, and pretended to be startled.

“Because he is a great general,” he blurted.

“And what use would you be to a great general?”

“I can fight, sir.”

“That’s nothing!” the captain snorted. “Any fool can fight. There are drunken brawls in taverns every day.”

“I’m not a fool, sir, and I’m not a drunk,” said Jimmu.

Captain Muraki looked up, straight into Jimmu’s eyes.

“Lord Ankan has many enemies,” he said. “How do I know that you’re not spying for one of them?”

Jimmu was prepared for this question and replied calmly, “If you believed that I was a spy, I would already be under arrest, sir.”

Captain Muraki raised a hand to his face to conceal a grin.

“What happened to your family?” he said.

For the first time, Jimmu seemed to behave like an awkward teenager, wriggling and blushing.

“I don’t like talking about myself,” he mumbled.

“Then learn to like it!” the captain said, and went back to reading the scroll.

Nichiren had made Jimmu rehearse his story until it sounded like the truth, until Jimmu almost believed it himself.

“When I was a baby, I was found abandoned outside the Buddhist monastery at Sengen, between the cities of Nara and Nagoya,” he said. “I never knew who my parents were. The monks took me in, and found a wet nurse to care for me. When I was old enough, I learned how to pray and how to meditate. When I was seven or eight, one of the monks, a retired samurai called Soun, took an interest in me. He taught me unarmed combat, and how to use the spear, bow, and sword. I’m best with the sword. Soun said I was the most skilled swordsman of my age that he had ever seen. He told me that I have the makings of a samurai.”

Captain Muraki was no longer pretending to read; Jimmu had completely captured his attention.

“Soun grew old,” Jimmu continued. “In spring, he fell sick. Before he died, he called me to his side and asked me to choose between following the way of Lord Buddha or the way of the warrior. I chose to be a warrior.”

“Why?”

“Because war is everywhere,” said Jimmu. “It’s the way of the world.”

Captain Muraki sighed.

“War has stolen my ability to run,” he said. “How much are you prepared to lose, Jimmu?”

“I’m prepared to pay any price,” said Jimmu. “After Soun died, I left the monastery, wandered the country and talked to people. That’s how I learned about Lord Ankan, and here I am.”