Musashi: Bushido Code (76 page)

"I'd be willing to, but—"

"Can you guarantee it?"

"What can I say? Musashi can speak for himself!"

"Perhaps you have in mind helping him to escape!"

"Don't be an ass! If I were to show partiality to him, the rest of you would challenge me. He's no friend of mine. There's no reason for me to protect him. And if he leaves Kyoto, you only have to put up notices all over town to expose his cowardice."

"That's not enough. We aren't leaving here tonight unless you guarantee to take custody of him until the bout."

Kojirō spun around. He thrust out his chest and walked closer to Musashi, who had been staring fixedly at his back. Their eyes locked, like those of two wild beasts watching each other. There was an inevitability in the way their youthful egos were pitted one against the other, a recognition of the other man's ability and, perhaps, a mote of fear.

"Do you consent, Musashi, to meet as I have proposed?"

"I accept."

"Good."

"However, I take exception to your involvement."

"You're not willing to put yourself in my custody?"

"I resent the implication. In my bouts with Seijūrō and Denshichirō, I have done absolutely nothing cowardly. Why should their followers think I'd flee in the face of a challenge from them?"

"Well spoken, Musashi. I won't forget that. Now, my guarantee aside, would you name the time and place?

"I agree to any time and place they choose."

"That, too, is a gallant answer. Where will you be between now and the time of the fight?"

"I don't have an address."

"If your opponents don't know where you are, how can they send a written challenge?"

"Decide the time and place now. I'll be there."

Kojirō nodded. After consulting with Jūrōzaemon and a few of the others, he came back to Musashi and said, "They want the time to be five o'clock in the morning the day after tomorrow."

"I accept."

"The place is to be the spreading pine at the foot of Ichijōji Hill, on the road to Mount Hiei. The nominal representative of the House of Yoshioka will be Genjirō, the eldest son of Yoshioka Genzaemon, uncle of Seijurō and Denshichirō. Genjirō being the new head of the House of Yoshioka, the bout will be conducted in his name. But he is still a child, so it is stipulated that a number of the Yoshioka disciples will accompany him as his seconds. I tell you this to preclude any misunderstanding."

After promises had been formally exchanged, Kojirō knocked on the door of the shanty. The door was gingerly opened and the mill hands peeped out.

"There must be some wood you don't need around here," Kojirō said gruffly. "I want to put up a sign. Find me a suitable board and nail it to a post about six feet long."

While the board was being planed, Kojirō sent a man for brush and ink. Materials assembled, he wrote the time, place and other details in an expert hand. As before, the notice was being made public, for this was a better guarantee than a private exchange of oaths. To dishonor the pledge would be to bring on public ridicule.

Musashi watched the Yoshioka men erect the signboard at the most conspicuous corner in the neighborhood. He turned away nonchalantly and walked rapidly to the Yanagi Riding Grounds.

All alone in the dark, Jōtarō was fidgety. Eyes and ears were alert, but he saw only the occasional light of a palanquin and heard only fleeting echoes of men singing songs on their way home. Dreading the thought that Musashi might have been injured or even killed, he eventually lost patience and started off at a run toward Yanagimachi.

Before he had gone a hundred yards, Musashi's voice came through the darkness. "Hey! What's this?"

"Oh, there you are!" the boy exclaimed with relief. "It took you so long, I decided to go have a look."

"That wasn't very smart. We might have missed each other."

"Were there lots of Yoshioka men outside the gate?"

"Um, quite a few."

"Didn't they try to capture you?" Jōtarō looked quizzically up at Musashi's face. "Nothing at all happened?"

"That's right."

"Where are you going? Lord Karasumaru's house is this way. I bet you're eager to see Otsū, aren't you?"

"I want to see her very badly."

"At this time of night, she'll be terribly surprised."

An awkward silence ensued.

"Jōtarō, do you remember that little inn where we first met? What was the name of the village?"

"Lord Karasumaru's house is much nicer than that old inn."

"I'm sure there's no comparison."

"Everything's closed up for the night, but if we go around to the servants' gate, they'll let us in. And when they find out I've brought you, Lord Karasumaru himself may come to greet you. Oh, I meant to ask you, what's wrong with that crazy monk Takuan? He was so mean it made me sick. He told me the best thing to do with you was leave you alone. And he didn't want to tell me where you were, though he knew perfectly well all along."

Musashi made no comment. Jōtarō prattled on as they walked.

"There it is," said Jōtarō, pointing at the back gate. Musashi stopped but said nothing. "See that light above the fence? That's the north wing, where Otsū's staying. She must be waiting up for me."

As he made a quick move toward the gate, Musashi gripped his wrist tightly and said, "Not just yet. I'm not going into the house. I want you to give Otsū a message for me."

"Not going in? Isn't that why you're here?"

"No. I only wanted to see that you arrived safely."

"You must come in! You can't leave now!" He tugged frantically at Musashi's sleeve.

"Keep your voice down," said Musashi, "and listen."

"I won't listen! I won't! You promised to come with me."

"And I did come, didn't I?"

"I didn't invite you to look at the gate. I asked you to visit Otsū." "Calm down.... For all I know, I may be dead in a very short time."

"That's nothing new. You're always saying a samurai must be prepared to

die at any time."

"That's true, and I think it's a good lesson for me to hear you repeat my words. But this time isn't like the others. I already know I don't have one chance in ten of surviving. That's why I don't think I should see Otsū."

"That doesn't make sense."

"You wouldn't understand now if I explained. When you grow older, though, you will."

"Are you telling the truth? Do you really think you're going to die?"

"I do. But you can't tell Otsū that, not while she's sick. Tell her to be strong, to choose a path that will lead to her future happiness. That's the message I want you to give her. You mustn't mention anything about my being killed."

"I will tell her! I'll tell her everything! How can I lie to Otsū? Oh, please, please come with me."

Musashi pushed him away. "You're not listening."

Jōtarō couldn't hold back the tears. "But ... but I feel so sorry for her. If I tell her you refused to see her, she'll get worse. I know she will."

"That's why you have to give her my message. Tell her it won't do either of us any good to see each other as long as I'm still training to be a warrior. The way I've chosen is one of discipline. It requires me to overcome my sentiments, lead a stoic life, immerse myself in hardship. If I don't, the light I seek will escape me. Think, Jōtarō. You yourself are going to have to follow the same path, or you'll never become a self-respecting warrior."

The boy was quiet, except for his weeping. Musashi put his arm around him and hugged him.

"The Way of the Samurai—one never knows when it will end. When I'm gone, you must find yourself a good teacher. I can't see Otsū now, because I know that in the long run she'll be happier if we don't meet. And when she finds happiness, she'll understand how I feel now. That light—are you sure it's coming from her room? She must be lonely. You must go and get some sleep."

Jōtarō was beginning to understand Musashi's dilemma, but there was a trace of sullenness in his attitude as he stood with his back to his teacher. He realized he could press Musashi no further.

Lifting his tearful face, he grasped at the last faint ray of hope. "When your studies are finished, will you see Otsū and make up with her? You will, won't you? When you think you've studied long enough."

"Yes, when that day comes."

"When will that be?"

"It's difficult to say."

"Two years, maybe?"

Musashi did not answer.

"Three years?"

"There's no end to the path of discipline."

"Aren't you ever going to see Otsū again, for the rest of your life?"

"If the talents I was born with are the right ones, I may someday achieve my goal. If not, I may go through life being as stupid as I am now. But now I'm faced with the possibility of dying soon. How can a man with that prospect make vows for the future to a woman as young as Otsū?"

He had said more than he'd intended to. Jōtarō looked bewildered, but then said triumphantly, "You don't have to promise Otsū anything. All I'm asking is that you see her."

"It's not as simple as that. Otsū's a young woman. I'm a young man. I dislike admitting this to you, but if I met her, I'm afraid her tears would defeat me. I wouldn't be able to stick to my decision."

Musashi was no longer the impetuous youth who had spurned Otsū at Hanada Bridge. He was less self-centered and reckless, more patient and much more gentle. Yoshino's charm might have reawakened the fires of passion, had he not rejected love in much the same way that fire repels water. Still, when the woman was Otsū, he lacked confidence in his ability to practice self-control. He knew that he must not think of her without considering the effect he might have on her life.

Jōtarō heard Musashi's voice close to his ear. "Do you understand now?" The boy wiped the tears from his eyes, but when he took his hand away

from his face and looked around, he saw nothing but thick black mist.
"Sensei!"
he cried.

Even as he ran to the corner of the long earthen wall, he knew his cries would never bring Musashi back. He pressed his face to the wall; the tears came afresh. He felt utterly defeated, again by adult reasoning. He wept until his throat tightened and no sound came out, but his shoulders went on shaking with convulsive sobs.

Noticing a woman outside the servants' gate, he thought it must be one of the kitchen girls returning from a late errand and wondered if she had heard him crying.

The shadowy figure raised her veil and walked slowly toward him. "Jōtarō? Jōtarō, is that you?"

"Otsū! What are you doing out here? You're sick."

"I was worried about you. Why did you leave without saying anything to anyone? Where have you been all this time? The lamps were lit and the gate closed and still you didn't return. I can't tell you how worried I was."

"You're crazy. What if your fever goes up again? Go back to bed, right now!"

"Why were you crying?"

"I'll tell you later."

"I want to know now. There must have been something to upset you so. You went chasing after Takuan, didn't you?"

"Hmm. Yes."

"Did you find out where Musashi is?"

"Takuan's evil. I hate him!"

"He didn't tell you?"

"Uh, no."

"You're hiding something from me."

"Oh, you're both impossible!" wailed Jōtarō. "You and that stupid teacher of mine. I can't tell you anything before you lie down and I put a cold towel on your head. If you don't go back to the house now, I'm going to drag you there."

Seizing her wrist with one hand and beating on the gate with the other, he called furiously, "Open up! The sick girl's out here. If you don't hurry up, she'll freeze!"

A Toast to the Morrow

Matahachi paused on the pebbled road and wiped the sweat from his forehead. He had run all the way from Gojō Avenue to Sannen Hill. His face was quite red, but this was due more to the sake he'd drunk than to the rare physical exertion. Ducking through the dilapidated gate, he trotted round to the little house beyond the vegetable garden.

"Mother!" he called urgently. Then he glanced into the house and muttered, "Is she sleeping again?"

After stopping by the well to wash his hands and feet, he entered the house.

Osugi stopped snoring, opened one eye and roused herself. "Why are you making such a racket?" she asked grumpily.

"Oh, are you finally awake?"

"What do you mean by that?"

"All I have to do is sit down for a minute and you start griping about how lazy I am, nagging at me to search for Musashi."

"Well, pardon me," Osugi said indignantly, "for being old. I have to sleep for my health, but nothing's wrong with my spirit. I haven't felt well since the night Otsū got away. And my wrist, where Takuan grabbed it, is still sore."

"Why is it every time I feel good, you start complaining about something?"

Osugi glared. "You don't often hear me complain, in spite of my age. Have you found out anything about Otsū or Musashi?"

"The only people in town who haven’t heard the news are old women who sleep all day."

"News! What news?" Osugi was immediately on her knees, crawling closer to her son.

"Musashi's going to have a third bout with the Yoshioka School." "When? Where?"

"There's a sign at Yanagimachi with all the details. It's going to be in Ichijōji Village early tomorrow morning."

"Yanagimachi! That's the licensed quarter." Osugi's eyes narrowed. "What were you doing loafing in the middle of the day in a place like that?"

"I wasn't loafing," Matahachi said defensively. "You always take things the wrong way. I was there because it's a good place to pick up news."

"Never mind; I was just teasing. I'm satisfied you've settled down and won't go back to the wicked life you were leading. But did I hear you right? Did you say tomorrow morning?"

"Yes, at five o'clock."

Osugi thought. "Didn't you tell me you knew somebody at the Yoshioka School?"

"Yes, but I didn't meet them under very favorable circumstances. Why?"

"I want you to take me to the school, right now. Get yourself ready."

Matahachi was again struck by the impetuousness of the aged. Without making a move, he said coolly, "Why get excited? Anybody would think the house was on fire. What do you expect to accomplish by going to the Yoshioka School?"

"Volunteer our services, of course."

"Huh?"

"They're going out to kill Musashi tomorrow. I'll ask them to let us join them. We may not be much help, but we can probably get in at least one good blow."

"Mother, you must be joking!" Matahachi laughed.

"What do you find so funny?"

"You're so simple-minded."

"How dare you speak that way! You're the one who's simple-minded." "Instead of arguing, go out and look around. The Yoshiokas are out for blood; this is their last chance. The rules of fighting aren't going to mean anything to them. The only way they can possibly save the House of Yoshioka is by killing Musashi—any way they can. It's no secret they're going to attack in force."

"Is that so?" Osugi purred. "Then Musashi's bound to be killed.... Isn't he?"

"I'm not so sure. He may bring men to help him. And if he does, it'll be quite a battle. That's what a lot of people think will happen."

"They may be right, but it's still annoying. We can't just sit on our hands and let somebody else kill him after searching for him all this time."

"I agree, and I've got a plan," Matahachi said excitedly. "If we get there before the battle, we can present ourselves to the Yoshiokas and tell them why we're after Musashi. I'm sure they'll let us strike a blow at the corpse. Then we can take some of his hair, or a sleeve, or something like that, and use it to prove to the people back home that we killed him. That would restore our standing, wouldn't it?"

"That's a good plan, my son. I doubt if there's any better way." Apparently forgetting that she had once suggested the same thing to him, she sat straight and squared her shoulders. "Not only would it clear our name, but with Musashi dead, Otsū would be like a fish out of water."

His mother's calm restored, Matahachi felt relieved—but also thirsty again. "Well, that's settled. We have a few hours to wait. Don't you think we should have some sake before dinner?"

"Hmm; all right. Have some brought out here. I'll have a little myself to celebrate our approaching victory."

As he put his hands on his knees and started to get up, he glanced to one side, blinked and stared.

"Akemi!" he cried, and ran to the small window.

She was cowering under a tree just outside, like a guilty cat that had not quite managed to flee in time. Staring with disbelieving eyes, she gasped, "Matahachi, is that you?"

"What brought you here?"

"Oh, I've been staying here for some time."

"I had no idea. Are you with Okō?"

"No."

"Don't you live with her anymore?"

"No. You know Gion Tōji, don't you?"

"I've heard of him."

"He and Mother ran away together." Her little bell tinkled as she raised her sleeve to hide her tears.

The light in the shade of the tree had a bluish tinge; the nape of her neck, her delicate hand, everything about her looked very different from the Akemi he remembered. The girlish glow that had so enchanted him at Ibuki and relieved his gloom at the Yomogi was no longer in evidence.

"Matahachi," said Osugi suspiciously, "who's that you're talking to?" "It's the girl I told you about before. Okō's daughter."

"Her? What was she doing, eavesdropping?"

Matahachi turned, saying heatedly, "Why do you always jump to conclusions? She's staying here too. She just happened to be passing by. Right, Akemi?"

"Yes, I didn't dream you were here, though I saw that girl named Otsū here once.

"Did you talk to her?"

"Not really, but later I got to wondering. Isn't she the girl you were engaged to?"

"Yes."

"I thought so. My mother caused you a lot of trouble, didn't she?" Matahachi ignored the question. "Are you still single? You look different somehow."

"Mother made life miserable for me after you left. I put up with it as long as I could, because she is my mother. But last year, when we were in Sumiyoshi, I ran away."

"She messed up both our lives, didn't she? But you just wait and see. In the end, she'll get what she deserves."

"I don't even care if she doesn't. I just wish I knew what I'm going to do from now on."

"Me too. The future doesn't look very bright. I'd like to get even with Okō, but I suppose all I'll ever do is think about it."

While they were complaining about their difficulties, Osugi had busied herself with her travel preparations. Now, with a click of her tongue, she said sharply, "Matahachi! Why are you standing there grumbling to somebody who has nothing to do with us? Come help me pack!"

"Yes, Mother."

"Good-bye, Matahachi. See you again." Looking dejected and ill at ease, Akemi hurried away.

Presently a lamp was lit, and the maid appeared with dinner trays and sake. Mother and son exchanged cups without looking at the bill, which lay on the tray between them. The servants, who came one by one to pay their respects, were followed by the innkeeper himself.

"So you're leaving tonight?" he said. "It's been good having you with us for so long. I'm sorry we haven't been able to give you the special treatment you deserve. We hope to see you again when you're next in Kyoto."

"Thank you," replied Osugi. "I may very well come again. Let's see, it's been three months, hasn't it—since the end of the year?"

"Yes, about that. We'll miss you."

"Won't you have a little sake with us?"

"That's very kind of you. It's quite unusual to be leaving at night. What made you decide to do that?"

"To tell the truth, some important business came up very suddenly. By the way, do you happen to have a map of Ichijōji Village?"

"Let's see, that's a little place on the other side of Shirakawa, near the top of Mount Hiei. I don't think you'd better be going there in the middle of the night. It's quite deserted and—"

"That doesn't matter," interrupted Matahachi. "Would you please just draw us a map?"

"I'll be glad to. One of my servants comes from there. He can furnish me with the information I need. Ichijōji, you know, doesn't have many people, but it's spread out over quite a large area."

Matahachi, a little drunk, said curtly, "Don't worry about where we're going. We just want to know how to get there."

"Oh, forgive me. Take your time with your preparations." Rubbing his hands together obsequiously, he bowed his way out onto the veranda.

As he was about to step down into the garden, three or four of his employees came running up, the chief clerk saying excitedly, "Didn't she come this way?"

"Who?"

"That girl, the one who was staying in the back room."

"Well, what about her?"

"I'm sure I saw her earlier in the evening, but then I looked in her room, and—"

"Get to the point!"

"We can't find her."

"You idiot!" shouted the innkeeper, his outraged face devoid of the oily servility he had shown a few moments ago. "What's the use of running around like this after she's gone? You should have known from her looks there was something wrong. You let a week go by without making sure she had money? How can I stay in business with you doing stupid things like that?"

"I'm sorry, sir. She seemed decent."

"Well, it's too late now. You'd better see whether anything's missing from the other guest rooms. Oh, what a pack of dunces!" He stormed off toward the front of the inn.

Osugi and Matahachi drank a little more sake, then the old woman switched to tea and advised her son to do likewise.

"I'll just finish what's here," he said, pouring himself another cup. "I don't want anything to eat."

"It's not good for you not to eat. Have a little rice and some pickles at least." Clerks and servants were running about in the garden and passageways, waving their lanterns.

"They don't seem to have caught her," said Osugi. "I don't want to get involved, so I kept quiet in front of the innkeeper, but don't you think the girl they're looking for is the one you were talking to earlier?

"I wouldn't be surprised."

"Well, you couldn't expect much from somebody with a mother like hers. Why on earth were you so friendly with her?"

"I feel kind of sorry for her. She's had a hard life."

"Well, be careful and don't let on that you know her. If the innkeeper thinks she has some connection with us, he'll demand that we pay her bill."

Matahachi had other things on his mind. Clutching the back of his head, he lay back and grumbled, "I could kill that whore! I can see her face now. Musashi's not the one who led me astray. It was Okō!"

Osugi rebuked him sharply. "Don't be stupid! Supposing you killed Okō—what good would it do our reputation? Nobody in the village knows or cares about her."

At two o'clock the innkeeper came to the veranda with a lantern and announced the time.

Matahachi stretched and asked, "Did you catch the girl?"

"No; no sign of her." He sighed. "She was pretty, so the clerks thought that even if she couldn't pay her bill, we could get back the money by having her live here for a while, if you see what I mean. Unfortunately, she was a bit too fast for us."

Sitting on the edge of the veranda, Matahachi tied his sandals. After waiting a minute or so, he called irritably, "Mother, what are you doing in there? You're always hurrying me up, but at the last minute you're never ready!"

"Just hold on. Matahachi, did I give you the money pouch I carry in my traveling bag? I paid the bill with some cash from my stomach wrapper, but our travel money was in the pouch."

"I haven't seen it."

"Come here a minute. Here's a scrap of paper with your name on it. What! ... Why, of all the nerve! It says ... it says that because of her long acquaintance with you, she hopes you'll pardon her for borrowing the money. Borrowing ... borrowing!"

"That's Akemi's writing."

Osugi turned on the innkeeper. "Look here! If a guest's property is stolen, the responsibility is yours. You'll have to do something about this."

"Is that so?" He smiled broadly. "Ordinarily, that would be the case, but since it appears you knew the girl, I'm afraid I'll have to ask you to take care of her bill first."

Osugi's eyes darted back and forth wildly, as she stammered, "Wh-what are you talking about? Why, I never saw that thieving wench before in my life. Matahachi! Stop fooling around! If we don't get started, the cock will be crowing."