He rummaged through the supply bag and produced a length of clean cloth.

'I thought you could use this,' he said, indicating the blood-soaked bandage on Jack's hand.

'Thanks,' replied Jack. Tearing off a strip, he began redressing his wound. He bit his tongue against the pain as he unwrapped the old bandage to reveal his mutilated finger.

Benkei grimaced at the sight of the raw and bloody stump. 'We should rest a while,' he suggested. 'From here on, it's tough going. The Kuju range is just mountains and rock and ... more mountains.'

He took a swig from a water gourd, then offered it to Jack. After a couple of mouthfuls, Jack poured some over his wound to clean it.

'Don't use too much,' warned Benkei. 'Not all streams are fit to drink in this volcanic region.'

Putting back the stopper, Jack returned the gourd. Then, after tucking into a mochi rice cake, Benkei settled down for a nap while Jack focused on healing himself. But his body hurt so much he almost didn't know where to start his hand, his head, his jaw or his throat. If the battles kept coming at this rate, Jack realized it would take a miracle to reach Nagasaki in one piece ... let alone alive.

17.

Caldera The sky stretched out like a boundless kingdom above their heads, volcanic peaks competing with one another to claim the horizon. Graced by fair weather, Jack and Benkei made good progress on their journey across the rugged Kuju range. With each passing day Jack felt stronger and fitter, his healing sessions seeming to be enhanced by their proximity to the heavens. By the third day, his throat was no longer swollen and his eye was turning into a healthy yet colourful purple patch. He changed dressings regularly, ensuring that his wound didn't become infected. And, although his finger was still in trauma and throbbed painfully, he forced himself to open and close his hand to maintain the flexibility and strength he'd need to wield a sword.

As they hiked along majestic ridges, through gullies and across gorges, they encountered no one, apart from the odd startled deer and hunting hawk. In the crystal-clear mountain air and the wild barren landscape, Jack could almost believe they'd eluded their pursuers. But he knew that would be a foolhardy assumption and they both pressed on.

At such altitude the nights were cold but spectacular with their starry display of constellations that glittered like cut diamonds in the black sky. By contrast, the summer days were hot and stifling, the only relief a mouthful of water and the breeze that blew across the grassy ridges. With no tree cover, Jack tied a bandanna round his head to combat the sun's fierce rays and stop the sweat streaming into his eyes.

'You could fry noodles in this heat!' remarked Benkei, mopping his brow with a red handkerchief.

Jack noticed the symbol of a horse and an inscription on the silk cloth. 'You stole a prayer flag!'

Benkei nodded. 'There were hundreds,' he replied by way of defence. 'Who's going to miss one?'

Jack shook his head in dismay. 'The flags repeat the same pattern of colours over and over. A good tracker will soon spot a break in the line.'

Benkei gave a contrite shrug. 'Sorry, nanban, I ... didn't realize.'

He guiltily threw away the flag.

'No!' cried Jack. But it was too late.

The flag caught in an updraught and sailed out of reach. Benkei ran after it, but the wind horse twirled high over a sheer cliff.

'Now we've left another marker,' sighed Jack.

Benkei offered him an apologetic smile. 'Perhaps if it flies far enough, the flag could send them off course.'

'Let's hope so,' replied Jack, trying his best to sound optimistic.

They walked on in silence, leaving their fate to the wind.

'I think we're home free, nanban!' announced Benkei cheerily.

It was their fifth day of hiking and there'd been no sight or sound of a patrol.

Jack was inclined to agree. If any dshin or samurai from Yufuin were on their trail, they would have seen them by now. Reassured, he allowed himself to relax a little.

'Now we're friends, you can call me Jack if you want.'

An affable smile graced Benkei's lips. 'It's because we're friends that I call you nanban. I wouldn't dare insult you by using the term gaijin. You're certainly not a barbarian, but you must be from the south that's where all the other foreigners came from.'

'Actually, I was shipwrecked on the eastern shore, near Toba.'

Benkei raised his eyebrows in surprise. 'That may be the case, but azuma no yaban hito doesn't exactly trip off the tongue.' He gave Jack a rueful grin of apology. 'Anyway, how's the finger, nanban?'

Accepting that his nickname was to remain, Jack replied, 'Healing well.'

He held up his hand, the bandage neatly wrapped and no longer bloodstained.

'Still, that's a brutal wound. How could a sensei do that to one of their own students?'

'You've not met Sensei Kyuzo. His favourite expression was: Pain is the best teacher and that's why you're in my class!'

Benkei laughed. 'Well, I'm glad I never went to samurai school!'

'Not all the teachers were that harsh,' said Jack, remembering his kindly Zen master, Sensei Yamada. 'In fact, I owe one my life. When I washed up on these shores, half-drowned and orphaned, I was taken in by Masamoto Takeshi, the head of the Niten Ichi Ry. He treated me as his own son. Fed, clothed and sheltered me. Taught me how to fight with a sword. Made me a samurai. If it wasn't for his kindness, I'd have been dead a long time ago.'

'It must be good to have someone care for you like that,' said Benkei wistfully. Then his expression hardened. 'But where is he now, when you need his protection most?'

Jack sighed, saddened at the memory. 'The Shogun forced him into exile, banishing him to a remote temple on Mount Iawo for the rest of his life.'

Benkei studied Jack, clearly feeling his pain and loss. 'And you've not seen him since?'

Jack shook his head. Upset at the thought of his imprisoned guardian, he tried to move the conversation on. 'So you never went to school?'

Benkei snorted. 'My mother always wanted me to become a monk, so I could learn to read and write.'

'Did you?'

'Of course not! I'd have had to shave off all my hair!'

On the seventh day, they emerged from the Kuju range to be faced by a formidable wall of rock. The escarpment rose before them like a gigantic tidal wave, stretching north and south as far as the eye could see.

'Welcome to the Aso caldera,' announced Benkei, noting the disbelief on Jack's face. 'We could go round it, but that would take days.'

'Then we've no choice but to go over it,' accepted Jack.

Benkei led the way up the precipitous slope. Traversing back and forth, they made painstakingly slow progress towards the summit. The sun beat down and with every step their legs grew heavy as lead weights.

Eventually, after a whole morning of relentless climbing, they breached the wall to be greeted by an awe-inspiring sight. The caldera was a single giant collapsed volcano, its crater wide as a sea and equally as long. The opposite side was little more than a hazy mountain ridge on the distant horizon. Over the centuries, the fertile soil of the vast inner plateau had been farmed into a carpet of green paddy fields, laid out like tatami mats for the gods. At the heart of the ancient crater was a group of smouldering peaks, a potent reminder that the massive volcano was still very much alive.

'Aso-san's five peaks ... are supposed to look like ... a sleeping Buddha,' gasped Benkei, struggling to get his breath back. With an exhausted wave of the hand, he indicated the eastern peak to be the head and a steaming vent on another to be the Buddha's navel.

Although Jack couldn't quite see the resemblance, standing on the lip of the caldera he felt as if he was on top of the world. The sky above was a cloudless blue dome, while the bowl of the crater dropped away into forested slopes to meet the patchwork plateau far below.

Before they began their descent, Jack stole one final look at the Kuju mountain range behind. Upon a far ridge, he caught the sun glinting off something. Calling for Benkei to wait, he shielded his eyes and looked again. He now wished he possessed Miyuki's eagle sight, but his eyes were good enough to spot more reflected gleams moving rapidly in their direction.

Jack turned to Benkei to deliver the bad news. 'We have company.'

18.

Naka-Dake 'Those samurai don't give up easily, do they?' panted Benkei, as they weaved in between the shimmering fields of rice.

'Focus on your breathing,' said Jack, not breaking his stride.

He'd taught Benkei the art of Dragon Breathing, the secret to the ninja's ability to run like the wind. This special cyclic pattern of inhales and exhales ensured that maximum oxygen reached the lungs. Inhale exhale exhale inhale exhale inhale inhale exhale. The rhythm focused the mind, while the increased breaths improved efficiency, allowing the body to sustain its pace over long distances. Propelled by this extra energy, the two of them raced across the plateau.

But however fast they ran the samurai had one distinct advantage they were on horseback.

Jack had spotted the mounted patrol crest the caldera at the same time as he and Benkei reached the crater basin. Still too far away to make out any details, he did glimpse a flash of golden armour. With a heavy heart, he realized this was no ordinary patrol. It could only be the Shogun's elite samurai.

'We should hide,' said Benkei, panic seizing his voice.

'Where exactly?' replied Jack, indicating the wide-open terrain before them.

Beyond the forested slopes, there was minimal cover to conceal their escape. The plateau was just rice field after rice field, with a few villages and farmhouses dotted here and there.

The handful of workers tending the fields watched wide-eyed as the two fugitives shot past.

'They're bound to catch us ... if we just keep running,' said Benkei.

Jack realized he was right. Even Dragon Breathing was no match for a galloping horse.

'Maybe we can lose them among Aso-san's peaks,' he suggested, pointing to the five smouldering mountains that divided the caldera basin.

'But they're active volcanoes!' exclaimed Benkei.

'Exactly,' replied Jack. 'The horses won't want to go anywhere near.'

'Nor do I!'

But Jack headed towards them nonetheless. 'Just think of them as a bigger version of the Nine Hells of Beppu.'

'That's reassuring!' cried Benkei, reluctantly following. 'You almost broiled me alive there.'

With their heads down, they sprinted for the slopes of Mount Taka, the highest of Aso-san's five summits. Their plan was to cross from here to Naka-dake, the volcanic offshoot of this peak, lose the samurai amid the sulphurous vents and escape west.

As they ran the last stretch, the Shogun's samurai emerged from the forest. Paying little regard to the farmers or their crops, the patrol thundered in a direct line across the paddy fields. Their horses trampled rice under their hooves, breaking apart bunds and scattering the workers in their wake.

Jack and Benkei scrambled up the mountainside through the treeline to the craggy heights. But the steep slope slowed their pace and the patrol rapidly gained ground.

'Faster!' urged Jack, almost pushing Benkei up the volcano.

They were barely halfway when the Shogun's samurai began their ascent. The horses struggled on the rough terrain, but their riders spurred them on.

As Jack and Benkei passed the last traces of vegetation, they were confronted by a forbidding sight. Swirls of black and grey lava stone scarred a desolate landscape. Craters the size of islands pockmarked the surface and the volcanic ash under foot was dangerously unstable. Clouds of sulphurous gas pumped out of gaping vents, creating a billowing blinding fog.

'Now this is Hell!' wheezed Benkei, coughing and spluttering from the acrid air.

Jack pulled his bandanna over his mouth and nose, then offered a spare bandage for Benkei to do the same.

'Stay close,' warned Jack as a steam cloud enveloped them. 'We only want to lose the samurai, not each other!'

The going was arduous and disorientating, and Jack wondered if he'd made a fatal mistake heading into the heart of a volcano. But as they neared the summit he heard the samurai's horses whinnying in protest. Through a brief gap in the sulphurous clouds, he spotted the patrol dismounting lower down the slope and continuing their chase on foot. Jack's strategy was paying off.

All of a sudden Benkei stopped.

The ground ahead sheered away into seeming oblivion. They'd reached the jagged lip of the main crater. Far below, amid the turbulent steam, a seething green-grey lake boiled and bubbled.

'Which way now?' asked Benkei, gagging on the sulphuric reek of rotten eggs.

'Your guess is as good as mine,' replied Jack, his eyes red and streaming.

They decided to head right, skirting the crater rim. As the steam swirled around them, they caught further glimpses of the samurai. The patrol had been forced to split up to increase its chances of capturing them.

Jack and Benkei hurried on. When they finally reached the far side of the crater, they discovered a lava field leading across to Naka-dake. Running as fast as the treacherous rock-strewn ground allowed, they almost tumbled head first into a chasm. It yawned like a jagged mouth between the two peaks, dropping dizzily into a grey graveyard of boulders, rocks and rubble.

'Look, there!' cried Jack, pointing to an old rope bridge strung across the chasm.

They darted over, but Benkei halted at the foot of the bridge and refused to go any further.

'I can't cross that,' he yelled, visibly trembling.

Somewhere in the mist the shouts of the samurai drew closer.

'If one sees with the eyes of the heart, rather than the eyes of the head, there is nothing to fear,' said Jack, recalling the lesson of his blind bjutsu master, Sensei Kano, when they were asked to cross a similarly dangerous gorge.

'What's that supposed to mean?'

'If the height scares you, simply don't look. Become blind to your fear.'

'I'm not scared of heights,' replied Benkei. 'I'm scared of the bridge!'