Musashi: Bushido Code (66 page)

The man passed them without a glance and went straight to the back of the little temple. He returned shortly and stopped beside them, staring boldly at Otsū's face. When he had first passed, she had not recognized him, but she did now—the samurai who had been sitting beneath the bridge on New Year's Day.

"Have you two just come up the hill?" asked Kojirō.

The question came so unexpectedly that neither Otsū nor Osugi answered. Their surprise was compounded by the sight of Kojirō's gaudy clothes.

Pointing his finger at Otsū's face, he went on, "I'm looking for a girl about your age. Her name's Akemi. She's a little smaller than you, and her face is a little rounder. She was trained in a teahouse and acts a little old for her age. Have either of you seen her around here?"

They shook their heads in silence.

"Very peculiar. Somebody told me she'd been seen in the neighborhood. I felt sure she'd spend the night in one of the temple halls." For all the attention he was paying to them, he might as well have been talking to himself. He mumbled a few more words, then left.

Osugi clicked her tongue. "There's another good-for-nothing. He has two swords, so I suppose he's a samurai, but did you see that outfit? And up here looking for a woman at this time of night! Well, I guess he saw it was neither of us."

Though she did not mention it to Osugi, Otsū had a strong suspicion that the girl he was searching for was the one who had wandered into the inn that afternoon. What on earth could be the tie that linked Musashi with the girl and the girl with this man?

"Let's go back," said Osugi, her voice both disappointed and resigned.

In front of the Hongandō, where Osugi's confrontation with Musashi had taken place, they ran into Kojirō again. He looked at them, and they at him, but no words were exchanged. Osugi watched as he went up to the Shiandō, then turned away and walked straight down Sannen Hill.

"That man has scary eyes," Osugi murmured, "like Musashi." Just then her own eyes caught a shadowy movement and her bent shoulders jerked up. "Oww!" She hooted like an owl. From behind a large cryptomeria, a hand beckoned. "Matahachi," murmured Osugi, thinking it was very touching that he did not want to be seen by anyone but her

She called to Otsū, now fifty or sixty feet farther down the slope. "Go on ahead, Otsū. But not too far. Wait for me at the place they call Chirimazuka. I'll be with you in a few minutes."

"All right," said Otsū.

"Now, don't go off anywhere! I've got my eye on you. You needn't try to run away."

Osugi ran swiftly to the tree. "Matahachi, it's you, isn't it?"

"Yes, Mother." His hands came out of the darkness and clasped hers as though he had been waiting for years to see her.

"What are you doing behind this tree? My, your hands are as cold as ice!" She was almost moved to tears by her own solicitude.

"I had to hide," said Matahachi, his eyes shifting nervously. "That man who passed here a minute ago. You saw him, didn't you?"

"The man with the long sword on his back?"

"Yes."

"Do you know him?"

"Sort of. That's Sasaki Kojirō."

"What! I thought you were Sasaki Kojirō."

"Huh?"

"In Osaka you showed me your certificate. That was the name written on it. You said it was the name you'd taken, didn't you?"

"Did I? Uh, that wasn't true.... Today, on my way up here, I caught sight of him. Kojirō gave me a bad time a couple of days ago, so I've been hiding, to keep out of his way. If he comes back this way, I might be in trouble."

Osugi was so shocked words failed her. But she noticed that Matahachi was thinner than he had been. This and his agitated state made her love him all the more—for the time being at least.

With a look that told him she did not want to hear the details, she said, "All that doesn't matter. Tell me, son, did you know that Uncle Gon died?" "Uncle Gon . . . ?"

"Yes, Uncle Gon. He died right there, on the beach at Sumiyoshi, just after you left us."

"I hadn't heard."

"Well, it happened. The question is whether you understand the reason for his tragic death and for my continuing this long, sad mission, even at my age."

"Yes; it's been engraved on my mind since that night in Osaka when you .. . reminded me of my shortcomings."

"You remember that, do you? Well, I have news for you, news that'll make you happy."

"What's that?"

"It concerns Otsū."

"Oh! That was the girl with you."

Matahachi started around her, but Osugi blocked his way and asked reproachfully, "Where do you think you're going?"

"If that was Otsū, I want to see her. It's been a long time."

Osugi nodded. "I brought her here for the purpose of letting you see her. But would you mind telling your mother just what you plan to do?"

"I'll tell her I'm sorry, I treated her very badly, and I hope she'll forgive me."

"And then?"

"Then ... well, then I'll tell her I'll never make a mistake like that again. You tell her that too, Mother, for me."

"Then what?"

"Then it'll be just like before."

"What will?"

"Me and Otsū. I want to be friends with her again. I want to marry her. Oh, Mother, do you think she still—"

"You fool!" She dealt him a resounding slap.

He staggered back and put his hand to his stinging cheek. "Wh-why, Mother, what's the matter?" he stammered.

Osugi, looking angrier than he had ever seen her since the day he was weaned, growled, "You just now assured me you'd never forget what I said in Osaka, didn't you?"

He hung his head.

"Did I ever say a word about apologizing to that worthless bitch? How could you conceivably beg forgiveness from that she-monster after she threw you over and went off with another man? You'll see her, all right, but apologize you shall not! Now, listen to me!" Osugi collared him with both hands and shook him back and forth. Matahachi, head bobbing, closed his eyes and listened meekly to a long string of angry rebukes.

"What's this?" she screamed. "You're crying? Do you still love that tramp enough to weep over her? If you do, you're no son of mine!" As she threw him to the ground, she collapsed too.

For several minutes, both of them sat there and wept.

But Osugi's bitterness could not stay submerged for long. Straightening up, she said, "You've reached a point where you must make a decision. I may not live much longer. And when I'm dead, you won't be able to talk with me like this, even if you want to.

"Think, Matahachi. Otsū's not the only girl in the world." Her voice became calmer. "You mustn't let yourself feel any attachment to someone who's acted the way she has. Find a girl you like, and I'll get her for you, even if I have to visit her parents a hundred times—even if it wears me out and I die."

He remained sullen and silent.

"Forget about Otsū, for the sake of the Hon'iden name. Whatever you think, she's unacceptable from the family's viewpoint. So if you absolutely cannot do without her, then cut off this old head of mine. After that you can do as you please. But so long as I'm alive—"

"Mother, stop!"

The virulence of his tone made her bristle. "You have your nerve, shouting at me!"

"Just tell me this: Is the woman I marry to be my wife or yours?" "What a silly thing to say!"

"Why can't I choose by myself?"

"Now, now. You're always saying headstrong things. How old do you think you are? You're not a child anymore, or have you forgotten?"

"But ... well, even if you are my mother, you're asking too much of me. It's not fair."

Their disagreements were often like this, beginning with a violent clash of emotions, a locking of horns in implacable antagonism. Mutual understanding was undermined before it ever had a chance to grow.

"It's not fair?" Osugi hissed. "Whose son do you think you are? Whose belly do you think you came from?"

"There's no point talking about that. I want to marry Otsū! She's the one I love!" Unable to endure his mother's ashen scowl, he directed his words to the sky.

"Son, do you mean that?" Osugi drew her short sword and pointed the blade at her throat.

"Mother, what are you doing?"

"I've had enough. Don't try to stop me! Just have the decency to give me the final blow."

"Don't do this to me! I'm your son! I can't stand here and let you do that!" "All right. Will you give up Otsū—right now?"

"If that's what you wanted me to do, why did you bring her here? Why tantalize me by parading her in front of me? I don't understand you."

"Well, it'd be simple enough for me to kill her, but you're the one she's wronged. As your mother, I thought I should leave her punishment for you to carry out. It seems to me you should be grateful for that."

"You expect me to kill Otsū?"

"Don't you want to? If you don't, say so! But make up your mind!" "But ... but, Mother . . ."

"So you still can't get over her, eh? Well, if that's the way you feel, you're not my son, and I'm not your mother. If you can't cut off that hussy's head, at least cut mine off! The final blow, please."

Children, Matahachi reflected, are wont to make trouble for their parents, but sometimes it is the other way around. Osugi wasn't simply browbeating him; she'd thrust him into the most difficult situation in his life. The wild look on her face shook him to the core.

"Mother, stop! Don't do it! All right, I'll do what you want. I'll forget about Otsū!"

"Is that all?"

"I'll punish her. I promise to punish her with my own hands."

"You'll kill her?"

"Uh, yes, I'll kill her."

Osugi triumphantly burst into tears of joy. Putting away her sword, she clutched her son's hand. "Good for you! Now you sound like the future head of the House of Hon'iden. Your ancestors will be proud of you."

"Do you really think so?"

"Go and do it now! Otsū's waiting down there, at Chirimazuka. Hurry!"

"Mm."

"We'll write a letter to send back to the Shippōji with her head. Then everyone in the village will know our shame has been halved. And when Musashi hears she's dead, his pride will force him to come to us. How glorious! .. . Matahachi, hurry up!"

"You'll wait here, won't you?"

"No. I'll follow you but stay out of sight. If Otsū sees me, she'll start whining that I went back on my promise. That would be awkward."

"She's only a defenseless woman," said Matahachi, getting up slowly. "It's no problem to do away with her, so why don't you wait here? I'll bring her head back. There's nothing to worry about. I won't let her get away."

"Well, you can't be too careful. She may be only a woman, but when she sees the blade of your sword, she'll put up a fight."

"Stop worrying. There's nothing to it."

Bracing himself, he started down the hill, his mother behind him, an anxious look on her face. "Remember," she said, "don't let your guard down!" "Are you still following me? I thought you were going to stay out of sight." "Chirimazuka is farther down the path."

"I know, Mother! If you insist on going, go by yourself. I'll wait here." "Why are you hanging back?"

"She is a human being. It's difficult to attack her when I have the feeling it's like killing an innocent kitten."

"I can see your point. No matter how faithless she's been, she was your fiancée. All right; if you don't want me to watch, go by yourself. I'll stay here."

He went, silently.

Otsū had first thought of running away, but if she did, all the patience she had exercised in the previous twenty days would come to naught. She decided to bear it a little longer. To pass the time, she thought of Musashi, then Jōtarō. Her love for Musashi set millions of bright stars shining in her heart. As if in a dream, she counted the many hopes she had for the future and recalled the vows he had made to her—at the pass at Nakayama, on Hanada Bridge. Though many years might pass, she believed with all her heart that in the end he would not forsake her.

Then the image of Akemi came to haunt her, darkening her hopes and making her uneasy. But only for a moment. Her fears about Akemi were insignificant in comparison with her unbounded confidence in Musashi. She recalled, too, Takuan's saying that she was to be pitied, but that made no sense. How could he regard her self-perpetuating joy in that light?

Even now, waiting in this dark, lonely spot for a person she did not want to see, her rapturous dream of the future made any amount of suffering bearable. "Otsū!"

"Who ... is it?" she called back.

"Hon'iden Matahachi."

"Matahachi?" she gasped.

"Have you forgotten my voice?"

"No, I recognize it now. Did you see your mother?"

"Yes, she's waiting for me. You haven't changed, have you? You look just the way you did back in Mimasaka."

"Where are you? It's so dark I can't see."

"May I come closer? I've been standing here. I'm so ashamed to face you. What were you thinking about?"

"Oh, nothing; nothing in particular."

"Were you thinking of me? Not a day has gone by I didn't think of you." As he slowly approached her, Otsū felt a little apprehensive. "Matahachi, did your mother explain everything to you?"

"Uh-huh."

"Since you've heard everything," she said, immensely relieved, "you understand my sentiments, but I'd like to ask you myself to see things from my viewpoint. Let's forget the past. It was never intended to be."