Free Young Samurai: The Way of Fire (short story) by Chris Bradford Page A

readily for the school’s annual
gasshuku
. But Yamato, the second-born son of Masamoto, and one of Jack’s few friends, had told him it was a privilege to attend the samurai training camp. Held in Koya-san, an ancient complex of Buddhist temples, the camp was located two days south of Kyoto in a secluded valley thick with forests and surrounded by the eight peaks of the Mount Koya range.
    Yamato had suggested the intensive tuition would help them in their preparation for the selection trials for the Circle of Three later that year. This had been all the incentive Jack needed and he’d jumped at the chance.
    Besides, since only fifteen students and three teachers were allowed to go, Jack had hoped that the
gasshuku
would give him a break from the bigoted instruction of Sensei Kyuzo and the bullying he’d been suffering at the hands of Kazuki and his gang.
    But the
gasshuku
had proved to be no break at all.
    It had been nothing but a regime of training, food, training, food, training and occasionally a little sleep. And he hadn’t counted on
both
Sensei Kyuzo and Kazuki being there.
    Once Jack had finished his kicks, Sensei Kyuzo dismissed him with a bored wave of his hand before returning to the forest to set more bamboo traps for unsuspecting students. Jack ran on as fast as his exhausted legs would carry him. He didn’t want to be the final student to complete the test that morning, since the last was always given extra fitness training.
    He followed the path that wound through the forest. The immense cedar trees on either side of him stretched so high they seemed to touch the clouds, their branches blocking out the early morning sun and leaving much of the path in shadow. Misty with morning dew, the forest was an eerie place to be alone and Jack was glad when he emerged into another clearing.
    A group of students were gathering round Sensei Yamada, the third and final teacher to accompany them on the
gasshuku
. The ancient Zen philosophy master, with his long wispy grey beard floating in the breeze, was pointing to something on the ground beside a large stack of wood.
    Jack spotted Yamato among the onlookers, recognizing him by his spiky hair. He joined his friend at the edge of the clearing and leant forward to get a better look at what Sensei Yamada was talking to the students about. All Jack could see was an uninviting area of swamp.
    A tall elegant girl with arrow-straight black hair exclaimed, ‘Swim in that! Sensei, is this some sort of joke?’
    The girl was Emi, the daughter of
daimyo
Takatomi, the Lord of Kyoto province and one of the most powerful men in Japan.
    ‘I’m perfectly serious,’ replied Sensei Yamada with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.
    Jack and the others inspected the noxious patch of oozing mud with dismay.
    No one in their right mind would walk across it – let alone
swim
in it!

River Fight
     
    Huffing and puffing, a rotund boy with thick bushy eyebrows staggered across the clearing. It was Jack’s friend Saburo.
    ‘When are we going to have breakfast?’ panted Saburo, wiping the sweat from his brow. ‘I’m starving!’
    Jack knew his friend hadn’t wanted to come on the
gasshuku
, but the boy’s elder brother had threatened to tell their father if he didn’t go.
    ‘As soon as you retrieve this rock from the bottom of the swamp,’ explained Sensei Yamada, casting a large round stone into the murky depths.
    It briefly floated alongside the rest of the surface scum before being swallowed up whole by the bog. Saburo glanced down at the revolting mud pit, then at all the reluctant students gathered along its edge.
    ‘What’s everyone waiting for then?’ said Saburo, diving straight in.
    Jack’s full-figured friend belly-flopped on the surface, sending clods of marshy mud flying everywhere. One hit Kazuki square in the face, causing a ripple of amusement among the class. Jack couldn’t help but laugh loudest. Kazuki glared at him as the stinking sludge trickled down his