Musashi: Bushido Code (55 page)

"Do you think he'll behave himself?"

"Yes. He's not wild. He must be somebody's pet. There's nothing to worry about. Are you warm enough?"

"Yes."

"Then get some sleep. That's the best cure for a cold."

He put more flour in the water and stirred the gruel with chopsticks. The fire was burning briskly now, and while the mixture was heating up, he began chopping some scallions. His chopping board was the top of an old table, his knife a small rusted dagger. With unwashed hands, he scooped the scallions into a wooden bowl and then wiped off the chopping block, converting it into a tray.

The bubbling of the boiling pot gradually warmed the room. Seated with his arms around his spindly knees, the former samurai gazed at the broth with hungry eyes. He looked happy and eager, as though the pot before him contained the ultimate pleasure of mankind.

The bell of Kiyomizudera pealed as it did every night. The winter austerities, which lasted thirty days, had ended, and the New Year was at hand, but as always as the year drew to a close, the burden on people's souls seemed to grow heavier. Far into the night supplicants were sounding the tinny gong above the temple entrance as they bowed to pray, and wailing chants invoking the Buddha's aid droned on monotonously.

While Tanzaemon slowly stirred the gruel to keep it from scorching, he turned reflective. "I myself am receiving my punishment and atoning for my sins, but what has happened to Jōtarō? ... The child did nothing blameworthy. Oh, Blessed Kannon, I beg you to punish the parent for his sins, but cast the eye of generous compassion on the son—"

A scream suddenly punctuated his prayer. "You beast!" Her eyes still closed in sleep, her face pressed hard against the wooden pillow, Akemi was weeping bitterly. She ranted on until the sound of her own voice woke her.

"Was I talking in my sleep?" she asked.

"Yes; you startled me," said Tanzaemon, coming to her bedside and wiping her forehead with a cool rag. "You're sweating terribly. Must be the fever." "What ... what did I say?"

"Oh, a lot of things."

"What sort of things?" Akemi's feverish face grew redder from embarrassment. She pulled the cover up over it.

Without answering directly, Tanzaemon said, "Akemi, there's a man you'd like to put a curse on, isn't there?"

"Did I say that?"

"Mm. What happened? Did he desert you?"

"No."

"I see," he said, jumping to his own conclusion.

Akemi, pushing herself up into a half-sitting position, said, "Oh, what should I do now? Tell me, what?" She had vowed she would reveal her secret shame to no one, but the anger and sadness, the sense of loss pent up inside her, were too much to bear alone. She sprawled on Tanzaemon's knee and blurted out the whole story, sobbing and moaning throughout.

"Oh," she wailed finally, "I want to die, die! Let me die!"

Tanzaemon's breath grew hot. It had been a long time since he had been this close to a woman; her odor burned his nostrils, his eyes. Desires of the flesh, which he thought he had overcome, began to swell as from an influx of warm blood, and his body, until now no more vibrant than a barren withered tree, took on new life. He was reminded, for a change, that there were lungs and a heart underneath his ribs.

"Mm," he muttered, "so that's the kind of man Yoshioka Seijūrō is." Bitter hatred for Seijūrō welled up in him. Nor was it only indignation; a kind of jealousy moved him to tighten his shoulders, as though it were a daughter of his own who had been violated. As Akemi writhed in tears on his knee, he experienced a feeling of intimacy, and a look of perplexity crept into his face.

"Now there, don't cry. Your heart is still chaste. It's not as if you'd permitted this man to make love to you, nor did you return his love. What's important to a woman is not her body but her heart, and chastity itself is a matter of the inner being. Even when a woman doesn't give herself to a man, if she regards him with lust, she becomes, at least as long as the feeling lasts, unchaste and unclean."

Akemi was not comforted by these abstract words. Hot tears seeped through the priest's kimono, and she went on repeating that she wanted to die.

"Now, now, stop crying," said Tanzaemon again, patting her on the back. But the trembling of her white neck did not move him to genuine sympathy. This soft skin, so sweet to the smell, had already been stolen from him by another man.

Noticing that the monkey had sneaked up to the pot and was eating something, he unceremoniously removed Akemi's head from his knee, shook his fist and cursed the animal roundly. Beyond the shadow of a doubt, food was more important than a woman's suffering.

The next morning Tanzaemon announced he was going to town with his beggar's bowl. "You stay here while I'm gone," he said. "I have to get some money to buy you medicine, and then we need some rice and oil so we can have something hot to eat."

His hat was not a deep one woven of reeds, like those of most itinerant priests, but an ordinary bamboo affair, and his straw sandals, worn and split at the heels, scraped against the ground as he shuffled along. Everything about him, not just his mustache, had an air of scruffiness. Yet, walking scarecrow that he was, it was his habit to go out every day, unless it rained.

Not having slept well, he was particularly bleary-eyed this morning. Akemi, after crying and carrying on so in the evening, had later sipped her gruel, broken into a heavy sweat and slept soundly through the rest of the night. He had hardly closed his eyes until dawn. Even walking under the bright morning sun, the cause of his sleeplessness remained with him. He could not get it out of his mind.

"She's about the same age as Otsū," he thought. "But they're completely different in temperament. Otsū has grace and refinement, but there's something chilly about her. Akemi's appealing whether she's laughing, crying or pouting."

The youthful feelings aroused in Tanzaemon's desiccated cells by the strong rays of Akemi's charm had made him all too conscious of his advancing years. And during the night, as he had looked solicitously at her each time she stirred in her sleep, a different warning had sounded in his heart. "What a wretched fool I am! Haven't I learned yet? Though I wear the surplice of the priest and play the
shakuhachi
of the mendicant, I'm still a long way from achieving the clear and perfect enlightenment of P'u-hua. Will I never find the wisdom that will release me from this body?"

After castigating himself at length, he had forced his sad eyes shut and tried to sleep, but to no avail.

As dawn broke, he had again resolved, "I will—I must—put evil thoughts behind me!" But Akemi was a charming girl. She had suffered so. He must try to comfort her. He had to show her that not all the men in the world were demons of lust.

Besides the medicine, he was wondering what sort of present he could bring her when he came back in the evening. Throughout the day's alms-seeking, his spirit would be bolstered by this desire to do something to make Akemi a little happier. That would suffice; he cherished no greater desire.

At about the time he recovered his composure and the color returned to his face, he heard the flapping of wings above the cliff beside him. The shadow of a large falcon skimmed past, and Tanzaemon watched a gray feather from a small bird flutter down from an oak branch in the leafless grove above him. Holding the bird in its claws, the falcon rose straight up, exposing the undersides of its wings.

Nearby a man's voice said, "Success!" and the falconer whistled to his bird.

Seconds later, Tanzaemon saw two men in hunting outfits coming down the hill behind the Ennenji. The falcon was perched on the left fist of one of them, who carried a net bag for the catch on the side opposite his two swords. An intelligent-looking brown hunting dog trotted along behind.

Kojirō stopped and took in the surroundings. "It happened somewhere along here yesterday evening," he was saying. "My monkey was scrapping with the dog, and the dog bit his tail. He hid somewhere and never came out. I wonder if he's up in one of those trees."

Seijūrō, looking rather disgruntled, sat down on a rock. "Why would he still be here? He's got legs too. Anyway, I can't see why you bring a monkey along when you go hunting with falcons."

Kojirō made himself comfortable on the root of a tree. "I didn't bring him, but I can't keep him from tagging along. And I'm so used to him, I miss him when he's not around."

"I thought only women and people of leisure liked to have monkeys and lapdogs for pets, but I guess I was wrong. It's hard to imagine a student warrior like you being so attached to a monkey." Having seen Kojirō in action on the dike at Kema, Seijūrō had a healthy respect for his swordsmanship, but his tastes and his general way of life seemed all too boyish. Just living in the same house with him these past few days had convinced Seijūrō that maturity came only with age. While he found it difficult to respect Kojirō as a person, this, in a way, made it easier to associate with him.

Kojirō replied laughingly, "It's because I'm so young. One of these days, I'll learn to like women, and then I'll probably forget all about the monkey."

Kojirō chatted idly in a light vein, but Seijūrō's face seemed increasingly preoccupied. There was a nervous look in his eyes not unlike that of the falcon perched on his hand. All at once he said irritably, "What's that beggar priest over there doing? He's been standing there staring at us ever since we got here." Seijūrō glared suspiciously at Tanzaemon, and Kojirō turned around to have a look.

Tanzaemon turned his back and trudged off.

Seijūrō stood up abruptly. "Kojirō," he said, "I want to go home. Any way you look at it, this is no time to be out hunting. It's already the twenty-ninth of the month."

Laughing, with a touch of scorn, Kojirō said, "We came out to hunt, didn't we? We've only got one turtledove and a couple of thrushes to show for it. We should try farther up the hill."

"No; let's call it a day. I don't feel like hunting, and when I don't feel like it, the falcon doesn't fly right. Let's go back to the house and practice." He added, as though talking to himself, "That's what I need to do, practice."

"Well, if you must go back, I'll go with you." He walked along beside Seijūrō but did not seem very happy about it. "I guess I was wrong to suggest it."

"Suggest what?"

"Going hunting yesterday and today."

"Don't worry about it. I know you meant well. It's just that it's the end of the year, and the showdown with Musashi is creeping up on us fast."

"That's why I thought it'd be good for you to do some hunting. You could relax, get yourself into the proper spirit. I guess you're not the type who can do that."

"Umm. The more I hear about Musashi, the more I think it's just as well not to underrate him."

"Isn't that all the more reason to avoid getting excited or panicky? You should discipline your spirit."

"I'm not panicky. The first lesson in the Art of War is not to make light of your enemy, and I think it's only common sense to try to get in plenty of practice before the fight. If I should lose, then at least I'd know I'd done my best. If the man's better than I am, well ... "

Though he appreciated Seijūrō's honesty, Kojirō sensed in him a smallness of spirit that would make it very difficult for Seijūrō to uphold the reputation of the Yoshioka School. Because Seijūrō lacked the personal vision needed to follow in his father's footsteps and run the huge school properly, Kojirō felt sorry for him. In his opinion, the younger brother, Denshichirō, had more strength of character, but Denshichirō was also an incorrigible playboy. And though he was a more capable swordsman than Seijūrō, he had no stake in the Yoshioka name.

Kojirō wanted Seijūrō to forget about the impending bout with Musashi, for this, he believed, would be the best possible preparation for him. The question he wanted to ask, but didn't, was what could he hope to learn between now and the time for the match? "Well," he thought with resignation, "that's the way he is, so I suppose I can't be of much help to him."

The dog had run off and was barking ferociously in the distance. "That means he's found some game!" said Kojirō, his eyes brightening. "Let him go. He'll catch up with us later."

"I'll go have a look. You wait here."

Kojirō sprinted off in the direction of the barking and after a minute or two spotted the dog on the veranda of an ancient ramshackle temple. The animal leaped against the dilapidated grille door and fell back. After a few trials, he began scratching at the worn red-lacquered posts and walls of the building.

Wondering what he could possibly be so excited about, Kojirō went to another door. Peering through the grille was like looking into a black lacquer vase.

The rattle of the door as he pulled it open brought the dog running to his heels, wagging his tail. Kojirō kicked the dog away, but to little effect. As he entered the building, the dog streaked in past him.

The woman's screams were ear-splitting, the kind of screams that shatter glass. Then the dog started howling, and there was a battle of lung power between him and the shrieking woman. Kojirō wondered if the beams would split. Running forward, he discovered Akemi lying under the mosquito net and the monkey, which had jumped in the window to escape the dog, hiding behind her.

Akemi was between the dog and the monkey, blocking the dog's way, so he attacked her. As she rolled to one side, the howl of the dog reached a crescendo.

Akemi was now screaming from pain rather than fright. The dog had set his teeth around her forearm. Kojirō, with an oath, kicked him violently again in the ribs. The dog was already dead from the first kick, but even after the second, his teeth were solidly clamped on Akemi's arm.

"Let go! Let go!" she screamed, writhing on the floor.

Kojirō knelt beside her and pulled the dog's jaws open. The sound was like that of pieces of glued wood being wrenched apart. The mouth came open, all right; a little more force on Kojirō's part, and the dog's head would have split in two. He threw the corpse out the door and came back to Akemi's side.