The Way Of The Sword by Chris Bradford Page A

brief bow before instructing them to collect a wooden
bō
staff from a pile stacked against the weapons wall inside the
Butokuden
. They had then left the school at a brisk march.
    Their teacher hadn’t spoken a word since.
    By the time they reached the foot of the mountain, the morning sun had risen high in the sky. The forced march, combined with the dust of the road, soon left the students hot and thirsty, so the cool shade of the cedar trees was a welcome relief when they entered the forest and began their ascent of Mount Hiei.
    As they weaved their way up its slope, the students spread out a little and Jack finally spotted an opportunity to speak with Akiko.
    ‘So where do you think Sensei Kano’s taking us?’ he asked nonchalantly.
    ‘Enryakuji, I presume.’
    ‘Why there? Didn’t you tell me a samurai general destroyed it?’
    ‘Yes, General Nobunaga.’
    ‘So what’s there left to see?’ asked Jack.
    ‘Nothing. Apart from the remains of several hundred deserted temples. Enryakuji has been a tomb for over forty years.’
    ‘It seems a rather odd place to take us to train.’ Jack drew closer, checking no one was listening before he whispered, ‘By the way, what were you doing last night?’
    Akiko momentarily faltered at the question. Then, keeping her gaze fixed on the path, replied, ‘I was folding cranes.’
    ‘No, I mean just before dawn,’ pressed Jack. ‘I’m sure I saw you outside the
Shishi-no-ma
. You were dressed all in black like a ninja!’
    Akiko’s face was an odd mixture of disbelief and alarm.
    ‘You must be mistaken, Jack. I was asleep. Like everyone else.’
    ‘Well, I saw
someone
– and I swear it looked like you. But when I got inside, there was no one around.’
    ‘Are you sure you didn’t imagine it?’ She studied his face with concern. ‘You look dead on your feet. Did you get any sleep last night?’
    Jack shook his head wearily and was about to question her further, when the students behind caught them up.
    Out of the corner of his eye, Jack continued to study Akiko, but her face gave nothing away. Perhaps he
had
been mistaken. Akiko had no reason to lie to him. But if it wasn’t Akiko, then who else could it have been?
    THUNK!
    Jack’s thoughts were interrupted by the final beat of Sensei Kano’s
bō
staff upon the ground. The students all came to an abrupt halt.
    ‘We cross here,’ announced Sensei Kano. His voice was deep and booming, as if a temple gong had been rung inside his chest.
    The students gathered round. Jack edged his way forward with Yamato and Akiko by his side. In front of them was a ravine splitting the forest in two, with a fast-flowing river far below. Shimmering in the watery mist, the remains of a footbridge jutted out over the abyss.
    ‘Where shall we cross, Sensei?’ asked Yamato.
    ‘Is there not a bridge?’ enquired Sensei Kano.
    ‘Hai
Sensei,’ Yamato replied, bemused at the question, ‘but it’s been destroyed.’
    Sensei Kano raised his eyes to heaven, as if listening to some distant sound, then said, ‘What about the log?’
    A little way down from the bridge, spanning the gorge, was a small felled cedar tree, its branches pruned, the trunk stripped bare of its bark.
    ‘But, Sensei,’ objected Yamato, a tremor in his voice, ‘the log is barely wide enough for one foot… it’s covered in moss… and it’s wet… someone could easily slip and fall.’
    ‘Nonsense. You’ll all cross here. Indeed you, Yamatokun, will go first. You are Masamoto’s son, aren’t you?’
    Yamato’s mouth fell open, his face going a touch pale.
‘Hai
, Sensei,’ he replied weakly.
    ‘Good, then lead the way!’
    The sensei gave Yamato an encouraging prod with his staff and Yamato shuffled to the edge of the ravine. He stopped at its lip.
    ‘Why haven’t you crossed yet?’ asked Sensei Kano.
    ‘S-s-sorry… Sensei,’ stammered Yamato, ‘I… can’t do it.’
    Jack knew his friend was scared of heights. He had discovered Yamato’s