‘No, really! Sensei Yamada could probably teach us all how to use our ki. We have his Zen class this afternoon. We could all then defeat our swords.’

‘It’s unlikely he’ll be any help,’ mumbled Jack, more to himself than anyone else, but Akiko overheard him.

‘What makes you say that?’ she asked.

‘Well, last night Kazuki decided he wanted me to apologize and tried to break my arm.’

‘Why didn’t you report him?’ said Akiko, her eyes inspecting his arm with genuine concern.

‘What’s the point? Kazuki stopped before anything happened. But only because Sensei Yamada showed up. He wasn’t much help. He did nothing but spout some meaningless saying at me.’

‘What was it?’ asked Yamato.

‘“In order to be walked on, you have to be lying down.” Some sage he is! What help is that?’

‘Excuse me.’ A tiny voice piped up and Yori, the boy who had forgotten his bokken, peeped round from behind Saburo. ‘Sensei Yamada may be suggesting you learn to defend yourself.’

It took a moment for the meaning to sink in before Jack realized Yori was right. It was suddenly so obvious. If he could master the sword and taijutsu, and be stronger, faster and better than Kazuki, then it would be Kazuki lying down, not him.

With the right skills, he could defend himself against anyone, maybe even Dokugan Ryu!

Now that was a reason worth training for.

‘Are you all right, Jack?’ asked Akiko, curious at the look of determination fixed upon Jack’s face.

‘Absolutely. I was just thinking about Yamada’s words. They make sense now. Complete sense.’

There and then, after just one lesson at the Niten Ichi Ryū, Jack vowed to devote himself to the Way of the Warrior.

28: THE DARUMA DOLL

28

THE DARUMA DOLL

‘Come. Come. Seiza!’ encouraged Sensei Yamada as they hovered at the entrance to the Butsuden, the Buddha Hall, located on the east side of the courtyard.

Sensei Yamada beckoned them in. He was perched on a raised dais at the rear of the hall, sitting upon a small round zafu cushion, which in turn was set upon a larger square zabuton. He wore a simple robe of charcoal blue and sea-green and sat cross-legged, one leg resting upon the other, his hands gently laid in his lap, the tips of his fingers touching. He reminded Jack of a genial toad on a lily pad.

The afternoon light fingered its way into the hall through slatted windows, catching smoky trails of incense and giving Sensei Yamada’s grey wispy beard the appearance of a finely woven spider’s web. The air was heady with the scent of jasmine and sandalwood and Jack soon felt calmed by the aroma.