Musashi: Bushido Code (43 page)

Having finished his story, he turned to Tōji and asked, "Are you from Osaka?"

"No, I'm from Kyoto."

For a while, they were both silent, distracted by the noise of the waves and the sail.

"Then you plan to try to make your way in the world through the martial arts?" said Tōji. While the remark was innocent enough in itself, the look on Tōji's face revealed condescension bordering on contempt. He had long since had his fill of conceited young swordsmen who went around bragging about their certificates and their books of secrets. It was his considered opinion that there could not possibly be all that many expert swordsmen just wandering around. Had not he himself been in the Yoshioka School for nearly twenty years, and was he not still only a disciple, although a highly privileged one?

The young man shifted his position and looked intently at the gray water. "Kyoto?" he muttered, then turned again to Tōji and said, "I'm told there's a man there named Yoshioka Seijūrō, the eldest son of Yoshioka Kempō. Is he still active?"

Tōji was in the mood to do some teasing.

"Yes," he replied simply. "The Yoshioka School seems to be flourishing. Have you visited the place?"

"No, but when I get to Kyoto, I'd like to have a match with this Seijūrō and see how good he is."

Tōji coughed to suppress a laugh. He was fast growing to detest the young man's brash self-confidence. Of course, he had no way of knowing Tōji's position in the school, but if he were to find out, he would no doubt regret what he had just said. With a twisted face and a contemptuous tone, Tōji asked, "And I suppose you think you'd come away unscathed?"

"Why not?" the youth snapped back. Now he was the one who wanted to laugh, and laugh he did. "Yoshioka has a big house and a lot of prestige, so I imagine Kempō must have been a great swordsman. But they say neither of his sons amounts to much."

"How can you be so sure before you've actually met them?"

"Well, that's what the samurai in the other provinces say. I don't believe everything I hear, but almost everybody seems to think the House of Yoshioka will come to an end with Seijūrō and Denshichirō."

Tōji longed to tell the youth to hold his tongue. He even thought for a moment of making his identity known, but to bring the matter to a head at this point would make him appear the loser. With as much restraint as he could manage, he replied, "The provinces seem to be full of know-it-alls these days, so I wouldn't be surprised if the House of Yoshioka is being underrated. But tell me more about yourself. Didn't you say a while ago you'd figured out a way to kill swallows on the wing?"

"Yes, I said that."

"And you did it with that great long sword?"

"That's right."

"Well, if you can do that, it should be easy for you to cut down one of the sea gulls swooping down over the ship."

The youth did not answer immediately. It had suddenly dawned on him that Tōji was up to no good. Staring at Tōji's grim lips, he said, "I could do it, but I think it would be silly."

"Well," said Tōji magniloquently, "if you're so good that you can disparage the House of Yoshioka without having been there ..."

"Oh, have I annoyed you?"

"No; not at all," said Tōji. "But no one from Kyoto likes to hear the Yoshioka School talked down."

"Ha! I wasn't telling you what I thought; I was repeating what I'd heard." "Young man!" said Tōji sternly.

"What?"

"Do you know what is meant by 'half-baked samurai'? For the sake of your future, I warn you! You'll never get anywhere underestimating other people. You brag about cutting down swallows and talk about your certificate in the Chūjō Style, but you'd better remember that not everybody is stupid. And you'd better start taking a good look at whoever you're talking to before you start boasting."

"You think it's only bragging?"

"Yes, I do." Thrusting out his chest, Tōji came closer. "Nobody really minds listening to a young man boast of his accomplishments, but you shouldn't carry it too far."

When the young man said nothing, Tōji continued. "From the beginning I've been listening to you carry on about yourself, and I haven't complained. But the fact of the matter is that I am Gion Tōji, the chief disciple of Yoshioka Seijūrō, and if you make one more disparaging remark about the House of Yoshioka, I'll have it out of your hide!"

By this time they had attracted the attention of the other passengers. Tōji, having revealed his name and exalted status, swaggered off toward the stern of the ship, growling ominously about the insolence of young people these days. The youth followed him in silence, while the passengers gaped from a safe distance.

Tōji was not at all happy about the situation. Okō would be waiting for him when the ship docked, and if he got into a fight now, there was bound to be trouble with the officials later. Looking as unconcerned as possible, he propped his elbows on the rail and gazed intently at the blue-black eddies forming under the rudder.

The youth tapped him on the back lightly. "Sir," he said, in a quiet voice that showed neither anger nor resentment.

Tōji did not answer.

"Sir," the young man repeated.

Unable to keep up his show of nonchalance, Tōji asked, "What do you want?"

"You called me a braggart in front of a lot of strangers, and I have my honor to uphold. I feel constrained to do what you challenged me to do a few minutes ago. I want you to be a witness."

"What did I challenge you to do?"

"You can't have forgotten already. You laughed when I told you I'd cut down swallows on the wing and dared me to try cutting down a sea gull." "Hmm, I did suggest that, didn't I?"

"If I cut one down, will it convince you I'm not just talking?"

"Well ... yes, it will."

"All right, I'll do it."

"Fine, splendid!" Tōji laughed sarcastically. "But don't forget, if you undertake this just for pride's sake and fail, you'll
really
be laughed at."

"I'll take that chance."

"I've no intention of stopping you."

"And you will stand by as a witness?"

"Why, I'd be only too glad to!"

The young man took a position on a lead plate in the center of the afterdeck and moved his hand toward his sword. As he did so, he called out Tōji's name. Tōji, staring curiously, asked what he wanted, and the youth, speaking with great seriousness, said, "Please have some sea gulls fly down in front of me. I'm ready to cut down any number of them."

Tōji suddenly recognized the similarity between what was going on and the plot of a certain humorous tale attributed to the priest Ikkyū; the young man had succeeded in making an ass of him. Angrily he shouted, "What sort of nonsense is this? Anyone who could make sea gulls fly in front of him would be able to cut them down."

"The sea stretches out for thousands of miles, and my sword is only three feet long. If the birds won't come near, I can't cut them down."

Advancing a couple of paces, Tōji gloated, "You're just trying to work yourself out of a bad spot. If you can't kill a sea gull on the wing, say you can't, and apologize."

"If I intended to do that, I wouldn't be standing here waiting. If the birds won't come near, then I'll cut something else for you."

"Such as ... ?"

"Just come another five steps closer. I'll show you."

Tōji came nearer, growling, "What are you up to now?"

"I just want you to let me make use of your head—the head with which you dared me to prove I wasn't just boasting. When you consider the matter, it would be more logical to cut that off than to kill innocent sea gulls."

"Have you lost your mind?" shouted Tōji. His head ducked reflexively, for just at that instant, the young man whipped his sword from its scabbard and used it. The action was so fast that the three-foot sword seemed no larger than a needle.

"Wh-wh-what?" cried Tōji, as he staggered backward and put his hands to his collar. His head was still there, fortunately, and as far as he could tell, he was unharmed.

"Do you understand now?" asked the youth, turning his back and walking off between the piles of baggage.

Tōji was already crimson with embarrassment, when looking down at a sunlit patch of the deck, he saw a peculiar-looking object, something like a little brush. A horrible thought came into his mind, and he put his hand to the top of his head. His topknot was gone! His precious topknot—the pride and joy of any samurai! Horror on his face, he rubbed the top of his head and found that the band tying his hair at the back was undone. The locks it had held together had fanned out over his scalp.

"That bastard!" Unmitigated rage swept through his heart. He knew now, only too well, that the youth had been neither lying nor voicing an empty boast. Young he was, but he was a spectacular swordsman. Tōji was amazed that anyone so young could be so good, but the respect he felt in his mind was one thing, and the choler in his heart something else again.

When he raised his head and looked toward the bow, he saw that the youth had returned to his previous seat and was searching around on the deck for something. He was obviously off guard, and Tōji sensed that the opportunity for revenge had presented itself. Spitting on the hilt of his sword, he grasped it tightly and sneaked up behind his tormenter. He was not sure his aim was good enough to take off the man's topknot without taking off his head too, but he did not care. Body swollen and red, breathing heavily, he steeled himself to strike.

Just then, a commotion arose among the card-playing merchants. "What's going on here? There aren't enough cards!"

"Where'd they go?"

"Look over there!"

"I've already looked."

As they were shouting and shaking out their carpet, one of them happened to glance skyward.

"Up there! That monkey has them!"

The other passengers, welcoming still another diversion, all looked up at the simian in question, which was perched at the very top of the thirty-foot mast.

"Ha, ha!" laughed one. "Quite a monkey—stole the cards, he did." "He's chewing them up."

"No, he's making like he's dealing them."

A single card came floating down. One of the merchants swept it up and said, "He must still have three or four more."

"Somebody get up there and get the cards! We can't play without them." "Nobody's going to climb up there."

"Why not the captain?"

"I guess he could if he wanted to."

"Let's offer him a little money. Then he'll do it."

The captain heard the proposal, agreed, and took the money, but apparently felt that as the master of the ship, he must first fix responsibility for the incident. Standing on a pile of cargo, he addressed the passengers. "Just who does that monkey belong to? Will the owner please come forward?"

Not a soul answered, but a number of people who knew the monkey belonged to the handsome young man eyed him expectantly. The captain also knew, and his anger rose when the youth did not reply. Raising his voice still higher, he said, "Isn't the owner here? ... If nobody owns the monkey, I'll take care of him, but I don't want any complaints afterward."

The monkey's owner was leaning against some luggage, apparently deep in thought. A few passengers began to whisper disapprovingly; the captain looked daggers at the youth. The cardplayers grumbled malevolently, and others began to ask whether the young man was deaf and dumb or just insolent. The youth, however, merely shifted his position a little to the side and acted as though nothing had happened.

The captain spoke again. "It appears that monkeys thrive on sea as well as on land. As you can see, one has wandered in on us. Since it is ownerless, I suppose we can do whatever we wish with it. Passengers, be my witness! As captain, I have appealed to the owner to make himself known, but he hasn't done so. If he later complains that he could not hear me, I ask you to stand by me!"

"We're your witnesses!" cried the merchants, who by this time were verging on apoplexy.

The captain disappeared down the ladder into the hold. When he reemerged, he was holding a musket with the slow-burning fuse already lit. There was no question in anybody's mind but that he was ready to use it. Faces turned from the captain to the monkey's owner.

The monkey was enjoying himself immensely. High in the air, he was playing with the cards and doing everything he could to annoy the people on deck. Suddenly he bared his teeth, chattered, and ran to the yardarm, but once there he did not seem to know what to do.

The captain raised the musket and took aim. But as one of the merchants pulled at his sleeve and urged him to fire, the owner called out, "Stop, Captain!"

It was now the captain's turn to pretend not to hear. He squeezed the trigger, the passengers bent down with their hands over their ears, and the musket fired with a huge bang. But the shot went high and wide. At the last instant, the young man had pushed the barrel of the gun out of line.

Screaming with rage, the captain caught hold of the young man's chest. He seemed for a time almost to be suspended there, for though he was strongly built, he was short by the side of the handsome youth.

"What's the matter with you?" shouted the young man. "You were about to shoot down an innocent monkey with that toy of yours, weren't you?"

"I was."

"That's not a very nice thing to do, is it?"

"I gave fair warning!"