As the first of these floats approached a street corner, all the men pulling began to chant loudly, ‘Yoi! Yoi! Yoi to sei!’, their rhythm pounded out on large taiko drums on the float’s upper floor. The whole structure began to turn and gradually disappeared round the corner like some huge bejewelled dragon.

‘What’s this festival for?’ shouted Jack over the noise of the celebrations.

‘It’s a purification ritual,’ replied Akiko, who stood close by in a sea-green kimono decorated with brightly coloured chrysanthemums. ‘A plague swept through Kyoto seven hundred years ago and the Matsuri prevents its return.’

‘We had a plague in England too,’ said Jack. ‘They called it the Black Death.’

The crowd around them surged forward as people jostled for the best position to see all the different passing floats. Emi with two of her friends joined Jack, Akiko and Yamato in the throng.

‘How is our victorious samurai today?’ greeted Emi, fluttering a red paper fan against the heat while manoeuvring herself between Jack and Akiko. Akiko frowned at Emi’s unexpected intrusion.

‘Great, thanks!’ said Jack. ‘This is a wonderful festival –’

‘Come on!’ urged Yamato, seeing Akiko’s prickly reaction. He grabbed Jack’s arm. ‘I know a better place to stand.’

‘Sorry, I have to go. Perhaps see you later?’ said Jack, waving at the disappointed Emi as he was dragged by Yamato and Akiko to the back of the crowd, where they found Saburo, Yori and Kiku waiting for them.

‘Here, try this!’ greeted Saburo, and shoved a small fish-shaped cake in his hand.

‘What is it?’ asked Jack, eyeing the pastry suspiciously.

‘It’s taiyaki…’ replied Saburo through a mouthful of the cake.

‘Later. We’ve got all afternoon to eat,’ interrupted Yamato. ‘We need to get ahead of the procession to see it all. Follow me!’

Yamato led them off down a back street and they wound their way through a maze of narrow deserted alleyways before coming out on to the main thoroughfare in front of the Imperial Palace.

Hundreds of people were already gathered and the street was lined with stalls selling strange sweets, skewers of barbequed chicken, sencha and a vast array of festival delights, from brightly coloured paper fans to gruesome papier-mâché masks, all in readiness for the evening celebrations.

‘There! What did I tell you, Jack? We can see the whole procession from here,’ said Yamato eagerly, making his way to the front.

From the moment of their Taryu-Jiai victory the previous day and his reconciliation with his father, Yamato had been a changed person. No longer was he so serious, or so cold towards Jack. In fact, he took his newfound friendship with Jack so far that Yamato was almost a bodyguard, challenging anyone who referred to Jack as the gaijin.