Young Samurai: The Ring of Sky by Chris Bradford

the earth outside, no doubt lured by the prospect of a larger bone to gnaw
     on. In his injured state, Jack didn’t hold out much hope of fighting his way out
     before the Shogun’s samurai arrived. Although he wasn’t crippled by any
     means, he’d be unable to control a sword properly. Until his hand had healed, he
     was like a tiger whose teeth had been pulled.
    From the direction of the Zen garden, the
     jingle of the wind chime drifted into his cell. Aware that he had to do something
     positive to stop himself lapsing into despair, Jack focused his mind on the delicate
     sound. He meditated until the throbbing in his hand subsided. Then, under his breath, he
     began to chant the mantra for
Sha
:
    ‘
On haya baishiraman taya
     sowaka …
’
    Sha
was one of the nine rituals of
kuji-in
, the art of ninja magic. Combined with a secret hand sign and
     focused meditation, it would speed up the healing process. But Jack was under no
     illusion.
Kuji-in
couldn’t bring his fingertip back. He’d be
     scarred for life. But at least it might mean he could grip a weapon far sooner.
    With one hand out of action, Jack
     couldn’t form the complete sign required for the ritual, so he just extended the
     thumb and forefinger of his right hand and held the palm over the bandaged wound. As he
     chanted, he sensed a tingle of warmth. But his stump was such a confusion of pain and
     numbness that he wasn’t certain this was the result of
kuji-in
.
    How he wished Miyuki was with him now. She
     was an expert healer, having tended to his injuries many times. Loyal,dependable and resourceful, she would have completed the healing and already be
     planning their way out of the cell.
    If Saburo was here, Jack knew he’d be
     making some joke. Lightening the mood and keeping everyone’s spirits up.
    Then there was Yori. What Jack would do to
     hear some wise and comforting words from his dear friend. He’d probably say
     something like, ‘
Pain is inevitable, but suffering is
     optional
.’
    A sad smile passed across Jack’s face
     at the memory of his friends. He keenly felt their absence. They’d each played a
     crucial part in his life. Together they’d been a team – strong, courageous and
     seemingly invincible. Now he sat alone in a dark prison cell, injured and without
     hope.
    But he daren’t give up. His friends
     wouldn’t have wanted him to.
    Outside the dog stopped digging.
    ‘
Hey! Nanban!
’
     whispered a voice from the barred window.
    Jack glanced up to see a wild-haired
     silhouette against the moonlight.
    ‘Benkei!’ said Jack, amazed.
     ‘You’ve come back?’
    ‘Of course,’ replied Benkei.
     ‘I’ve got your half of the winnings here!’

14
  
An Old Score
    Jack heard more scrabbling and realized the
     noise hadn’t been the dog. A chink of moonlight shone through a crack in the
     cell’s plaster wall. Then the iron tip of a leaf-shaped blade appeared and the gap
     widened.
    ‘Give it a kick,’ hissed Benkei
     from the other side.
    Sitting on the floor, Jack thrust his heel
     at the loose plaster. It fell away to reveal a hole gouged into the wattle-and-daub
     wall. The opening was barely big enough for Jack. But, with Benkei’s help, he
     scrambled through and soon stood next to him in the courtyard.
    ‘What happened to you?’ asked
     Benkei, noticing Jack’s bloody bandage.
    ‘I had a run-in with an old
     sensei,’ said Jack, brushing the plaster from his kimono with his good hand.
     ‘So how did you get away?’
    ‘A quick costume change,’
     replied Benkei, who was now dressed in an unassuming brown kimono. With a flourish, he
     revealed his jacket’s multicoloured interior. ‘I simply turned it inside out
     and hid in the barn until nightfall. That’s where I found this
kunai
.’
    He held up the farmer’s digging tool – a
     blunt broad-bladed knife with twine wrapped round the shaft for grip.
    ‘We should keep that,’ said
     Jack. ‘A
kunai
makes a good