33

HININ

The three of them sat round the fire, an uncomfortable silence hanging over them.

‘Nara it is then!’ said Hana in an effort to lift the mood. She picked up her bokken. ‘Botan had better watch out – Hana the samurai’s on his trail!’

Ronin ducked just in time as Hana swung the sword through the air.

‘Put that down!’ he growled, clearly regretting the decision to let her have it in the first place. ‘I told you, you’re not a samurai!’

One look at the scowling Ronin, his hands trembling, convinced Hana to do as she was told. ‘You could teach me how to use it,’ she ventured quietly.

Ronin glared at her.

‘So what’s the quickest way to Nara?’ asked Jack, hoping to divert Ronin’s darkening temper with a change of subject.

‘Through the Kizu Valley,’ replied Ronin.

‘Isn’t there another way?’ said Jack, feeling his frustration rise. They were about to retrace their steps yet again!

Ronin shook his head. ‘The mountain trails would take too long and crossing points over the Kizu River are few and far between. We’ll just have to take the risk.’

‘I’ve been to Nara before,’ Hana revealed. ‘It only takes a day to get there.’

‘Do you know where the Tōdai-ji Temple is then?’ asked Jack, showing her the green silk omamori.

Hana grinned. ‘You can’t miss it. The temple must be the biggest building in the world!’

Noticing that Ronin’s hands were still shaking, Jack shifted along the log. ‘Come closer to the fire, Ronin.’

‘I’m not cold,’ he mumbled, trying to control the trembling. ‘I’d be fine if only I had some saké.’

Hana, frowning, gave Ronin a troubled look. ‘Tell me, why do you always need to drink?’

‘To forget.’

‘You want to forget your … father?’ ventured Hana.

‘That’s none of your business!’ snapped Ronin.

Hana looked wounded by the return of Ronin’s harshness.

Ronin grunted an apology. ‘Ironic, isn’t it, Jack? You can’t remember but want to. I can remember and don’t want to!’

With that, Ronin moved away and bedded down against a tree to sleep. Jack saw him shudder and wondered if it was the lack of saké, the chilly night or his troubled past that was the cause.

Jack and Hana sat in silence for a while as the night closed in around them. Only the crackle of wood burning and the buzzing of insects broke the stillness. Their faces flickered in the firelight as Jack poked the embers with a stick and sparks flew into the night sky.

‘I love how the flames dance,’ mumbled Hana dreamily, gazing into its blaze.

Jack stared at the orange glow and lost himself in it too. For a moment, the fire consumed everything in his vision. Just like it had when the Niten Ichi Ryū had burnt. He thought he saw a face in the flames – Kazuki laughing – and recalled his rival’s threat on Akiko’s life.

He grasped his stick, his knuckles going white with fury at himself. How foolish he’d been to let slip that Akiko had survived her injuries.

But then he realized that as long as Kazuki was after him, he couldn’t be searching for Akiko. The problem would arise when Jack left Japanese shores for England – Kazuki would have free rein to carry out his terrible revenge. The thought of Akiko being hurt was too much to bear. Jack knew a final confrontation between him and Kazuki was inevitable. The stick in his hands snapped in a fit of enraged frustration. He blinked, suddenly aware of his surroundings.

‘Can I ask you something?’ whispered Hana tentatively.

Jack nodded and threw the broken branch into the fire.

‘When you’ve found this rutter in Nara, can I come with you to Nagasaki?’

Jack hesitated, not sure how best to reply.

‘I don’t think that would be a good idea,’ he said. ‘It’ll be just too dangerous now. I’m not even sure you should be coming to Nara with me. I’m wanted by the Shogun and hunted by the Scorpion Gang. Besides, once in Nagasaki, I’m leaving Japan for home.’

‘But there’s nothing for me here,’ Hana replied dolefully. ‘Being with you and Ronin is the first time I’ve felt I belonged.’

Jack felt the crushing loneliness in Hana’s heart. ‘I understand … but might it not be safer to stay with Ronin?’

Hana looked over at the samurai, who’d fallen into a fitful sleep. She shook her head sadly. ‘He wouldn’t want me around. It was stupid suggesting he adopt me!’

She made to move away from the fire. ‘Just forget I asked to join you. No one wants me. I’m a hinin.’

‘A hinin?’

‘An outcast. A nobody.’

‘You’re not a nobody,’ stressed Jack. ‘You’re Hana.’

‘Am I? I don’t even know my real name. I just called myself “Hana” because I heard someone say it and liked it. I was hiding in a bush, when a samurai lady stopped and pointed, saying, “Hana, hana.” For a moment, I thought she was pointing at me! But she was just showing her daughter the flowers …’

Tears welled in Hana’s eyes at the memory.

Jack didn’t know what to say. He pulled the bedraggled origami crane from the sleeve of his kimono and handed it to Hana.

‘My good friend Yori gave me this to bring luck upon my journey home. I want you to look after it. To remind you that you’re not a nobody. You have a friend in me.’

Hana took the crane and smiled. ‘Thank you,’ she whispered, wiping her eyes. ‘That means a great deal. I’ve never had a true friend before.’

Jack reached over. ‘Look, you can pull its tail and make the wings flap.’

Hana giggled and Jack felt grateful that, for once, he’d been able to pass on the joys of friendship. So far it had always been about him trying to fit in, to become accepted by others.

Looking at Hana then at Ronin snoring away, he realized all three of them were outcasts of Japanese society – a masterless samurai, a girl thief and a foreigner. But, bound together by fate, they were no longer outcasts. They were friends.