Jack gathered together what few possessions he had: his spare kimono and obi, extra tabi, a pair of sandals, his bokken and, most important of all, his father’s rutter. He picked up the priest’s dictionary, not forgetting his promise to deliver it to Father Bobadilla in Osaka when the chance arose, and stuffed it along with the other items in a shoulder bag. With a final check to ensure the rutter was safely stored at the bottom, away from prying eyes, he stepped out on to the veranda.

A thin orange haze lit the winter sky, and Jack could make out the tracery of the cherry blossom tree, its branches silhouetted against the crisp, white landscape. The samurai’s arrow was still buried in its trunk, a deadly reminder that Dragon Eye was out there, somewhere, bent upon stealing the rutter. Jack shuddered and hugged himself against the chill of morning.

‘Good morning, Jack-kun.’

Uekiya the gardener had shuffled up and was bowing low by Jack’s side.

‘Good morning, Uekiya-san, what are you doing up so early?’

‘Jack-kun, please accept this humble gift.’

The old man handed him a small wooden carrying case, opening up the lid to reveal a tiny potted plant within.

‘What is it?’ asked Jack.

‘It is bonsai,’ explained Uekiya, ‘a miniature sakura tree, just like the one you sit under in this garden.’

Jack examined the little plant. It was a perfect cherry blossom tree, yet not much larger than the span of his hand.

‘Sakura bloom in April,’ explained Uekiya with tenderness. ‘The blossom is brief, but beautiful. Like life.’

‘Arigatō, Uekiya-san. But I don’t have anything to give you in return.’

‘That is not necessary. You have given me great pleasure every day you have enjoyed my garden. That is all an old gardener could wish for.’

‘Jack-kun! Jack-kun!’ beckoned Hiroko, scurrying out of the house. ‘You must hurry. It is time to go.’

‘In Kyoto, look upon this bonsai and remember old Uekiya and his garden?’

‘I will,’ said Jack, bowing his gratitude. He realized that he would miss everything in this garden, the wooden bridge spanning the stream, the trickle of the waterfall, and most of all the shade and shelter of the cherry blossom tree itself.

Hiroko ushered him towards the front of the house. Jack glanced back over his shoulder one last time and saw the old man bow low, holding it to mark respect. He was so still it was as if he grew out of the very earth itself.

‘How do I look after bonsai?’ called Jack.

Uekiya looked up. ‘Prune it and water a little every day, but not too much…’ he began, but the rest of his words were lost as Jack turned the corner.