Today, as he approached the spot to begin his studies, Jack noticed the cherry blossom tree had shed many more of its leaves, leaving a golden carpet beneath its branches. Uekiya the gardener was sweeping them away, stuffing the dead leaves into an old sack.

Jack went to pick up the rake and help the old man in his task.

‘This is not work for samurai,’ stated the gardener gently, taking the rake out of Jack’s hands.

At that moment, Akiko crossed the bridge and made her way over to them. Jack noticed she wore a lilac kimono dotted with ivory flowers and tied with a yellow-gold obi. He could never quite get used to how immaculate the Japanese women always were.

Jack and Akiko settled beneath the tree and Uekiya, bowing, moved away to tend one of his already perfectly pruned bushes. They began their afternoon lesson. But before they had progressed very far, Jack asked her about the gardener’s strange comment to him.

‘How can I be samurai? I don’t even have a sword.’

‘Being samurai is not only about wielding a sword. True, samurai are warriors, for we are bushi, the warrior class. As Masamoto’s adopted son, you are now also samurai.’ Akiko paused to allow her words to sink in. ‘And samurai means “to serve”. A samurai’s loyalty is to the Emperor first and then to his daimyo. It is about duty. And your duty is to Masamoto. Not to the garden.’

‘I still don’t understand.’ What other duties would Masamoto require of him? Was he tied to this samurai for life?

‘You will. Being samurai is an attitude of mind. Masamoto will teach you this.’

As Jack tried to grasp Akiko’s meaning, Yamato strode out of the house carrying a shaft of dark wood. It was about the length of his arm, one-third of it rounded into a sturdy handle, the other two-thirds hewn into a long blade that curved slightly towards its tip.

‘What’s that he’s carrying?’ asked Jack.

‘A bokken. It’s a wooden sword.’

Yamato saw them, bowed stiffly then marched over to a clear patch of garden.

‘What? A toy sword!’ laughed Jack, seeing Yamato whirl the bokken above his head and execute a vicious strike on an imaginary opponent.

‘Toy? No, a bokken is no toy,’ said Akiko suddenly becoming serious. ‘It can kill a man. Masamoto-sama himself has defeated more than thirty samurai using a bokken against their swords.’

‘So what is Yamato doing now? It looks like playing to me.’

Yamato had repeated the strike, then followed through with a series of cuts and blocks.

‘Kata. They are set patterns of movements that help a samurai to perfect his martial skills. Yamato is learning the art of sword fighting.’

‘Well, if I am a samurai, I had better learn how to fight too,’ said Jack, adjusting his kimono and standing.