Musashi: Bushido Code (95 page)

"I'm going for a walk around town," Daizō said. "You stay here while I'm gone."

"Can't I go with you?"

"Not at night."

"Why not?"

"As I told you before, when I go for a walk, it's not simply to amuse myself."

"Well, what's the idea, then?"

"It has to do with my religion."

"Don't you get enough of shrines and temples during the daytime? Even priests have to sleep at night."

"Religion has to do with more than shrines and temples, young man. Now go find Sukeichi for me. He has the key to my traveling case."

"He went downstairs a few minutes ago. I saw him peeking into the room where the women are."

"Him too?" exclaimed Daizō with a click of his tongue. "Go get him, and be quick about it." After Jōtarō had left, Daizō began retying his obi.

Having heard the women were Kyoto prostitutes, famous for their beauty and savoir faire, the male guests were unable to leave off feasting their eyes. Sukeichi was so absorbed with the sight that his mouth was still hanging open when Jōtarō located him.

"Come on, you've seen enough," snapped the boy, giving the servant's ear a tug.

"Ouch!" squealed Sukeichi.

"Your master's calling you."

"That's not true."

"It is too. He said he was going for a walk. He's always taking walks, isn't he?"

"Eh? Oh, all right," said Sukeichi, tearing his eyes away reluctantly.

The boy had turned to follow him when a voice called, "Jōtarō? You're Jōtarō, aren't you?"

The voice was that of a young woman. He looked around searchingly. The hope that he would find his lost teacher and Otsū never left him. Could it be? He peered tensely through the branches of a large evergreen shrub.

"Who is it?"

"Me"

The face that emerged from the foliage was familiar.

"Oh, it's only you."

Akemi slapped him roughly on the back. "You little monster! And it's been such a long time since I saw you. What are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same question."

"Well, I ... Oh, it wouldn't mean anything to you anyway."

"Are you traveling with those women?"

"I am, but I haven't made up my mind yet."

"Made up your mind about what?"

"Whether to become one of them or not," she replied with a sigh. After a long pause, she asked, "What's Musashi doing these days?"

This, Jōtarō perceived, was what she really wanted to know. He only wished he could answer the question.

"Otsū and Musashi and I ... we got separated on the highroad."

"Otsū? Who's she?" She had hardly spoken before she remembered. "Oh, never mind; I know. Is she
still
chasing after Musashi?" Akemi was in the habit of thinking of Musashi as a dashing
shugyōsha,
wandering about as the mood suited him, living in the forest, sleeping on bare rocks. Even if she succeeded in catching him, he'd see right away how dissolute her life had become and shun her. She had long since resigned herself to the idea that her love would go unrequited.

But the mention of another woman awoke feelings of jealousy and rekindled the dying embers of her amorous instinct.

"Jōtarō," she said, "there're too many curious eyes around here. Let's go out somewhere."

They left via the garden gate. Out in the street, their eyes were regaled by the lights of Hachiōji and its twenty-five hostelries. It was the liveliest town either had seen since leaving Kyoto. To the northwest rose the dark, silent forms of the Chichibu Range and the mountains marking the boundary of Kai Province, but here the atmosphere was replete with the aroma of sake, noisy with the clicking of weavers' reeds, the shouts of market officials, the excited voices of gamblers and the dispirited whining songs of local street singers.

"I often heard Matahachi mention Otsū," Akemi lied. "What kind of person is she?"

"She's a very good person," Jōtarō said soberly. "Sweet and gentle and considerate and pretty. I really like her."

The threat Akemi felt hanging over her grew heavier, but she cloaked her feelings with a benign smile. "Is she really so wonderful?"

"Oh, yes. And she can do anything. She sings; she writes well. And she's good at playing the flute."

Now visibly ruffled, Akemi said, "I don't see what good it does a woman to be able to play the flute."

"If you don't, you don't, but everybody, even Lord Yagyū Sekishūsai, speaks

highly of Otsū. There's only one little thing I don't like about her."

"All women have their faults. It's just a question of whether they honestly

admit to them, the way I do, or try to hide them behind a ladylike pose." "Otsū's not like that. It's just this one weakness of hers."

"What's that?"

"She's always breaking into tears. She's a regular crybaby."

"Oh? Why is that?"

"She cries whenever she thinks of Musashi. That makes being around her pretty gloomy, and I don't like it." Jōtarō expressed himself with youthful abandon, heedless of the effect this might have.

Akemi's heart, her whole body, was afire with raging jealousy. It showed in the depths of her eyes, even in the color of her skin. But she continued her interrogation. "Tell me, how old is she?"

"About the same."

"You mean the same age as me?"

"Urn. But she looks younger and prettier."

Akemi plunged on, hoping to turn Jōtarō against Otsū. "Musashi's more masculine than most men. He must hate having to watch a woman carry on all the time. Otsū probably thinks tears will win a man's sympathy. She's like the girls working for the Sumiya."

Jōtarō, very much irked, retorted, "That's not true at all. In the first place, Musashi likes Otsū. He never shows his feelings, but he's in love with her."

Akemi's flushed face grew bright crimson. She longed to throw herself into a river to quench the flames that were consuming her.

"Jōtarō, let's go this way." She pulled him toward a red light in a side street. "That's a drinking place."

"Well, what of it?"

"Women have no business in a place like that. You can't go in there."

"All of a sudden I have the urge to drink, and I can't go in alone. I'd be embarrassed."

"You'd
be embarrassed. What about me?"

"They'll have things to eat. You can have anything you want."

At first glance, the shop seemed empty. Akemi walked right in, then, facing the wall rather than the counter, said, "Bring me some sake!"

One cup after another went down as fast as was humanly possible. Jōtarō, frightened by the quantity, tried to slow her down, but she elbowed him out of the way.

"Quiet!" she yelped. "What a nuisance you are! Bring some more sake! Sake!"

Jōtarō, insinuating himself between her and the sake jar, pleaded, "You've got to stop. You can't go on drinking here like this."

"Don't worry about me," she slurred. "You're a friend of Otsū's, aren't you? I can't stand women who try to win a man with tears!"

"Well, I dislike women who get drunk."

"I'm so sorry, but how could a runt like you understand why I drink?" "Come on, just pay the bill."

"You think I've got money?"

"Don't you?"

"No. Maybe he can collect from the Sumiya. I've already sold myself to the master anyway." Tears flooded her eyes. "I'm sorry ... I'm really sorry."

"Weren't you the one who was making fun of Otsū for crying? Look at yourself."

"My tears aren't the same as hers. Oh, life's too much trouble. I might as well be dead."

With that, she stood up and lurched out into the street. The shopkeeper, having had other female customers like this in his time, merely laughed it off, but a rōnin who had until then been sleeping quietly in a corner opened his bleary eyes and stared at her retreating back.

Jōtarō darted after her and grabbed her around the waist, but he lost his hold. She started running down the darkened street, Jōtarō close behind.

"Stop!" he cried with alarm. "You mustn't even think of it. Come back!"

Though she seemed not to care whether she ran into something in the dark or fell into a swamp, she was fully conscious of Jōtarō's pleading. When she had plunged into the sea at Sumiyoshi, she had wanted to kill herself, but she was no longer so lacking in guile. She got a certain thrill from having Jōtarō so worried about her.

"Watch out!" he screamed, seeing that she was headed straight toward the murky water of a moat. "Stop it! Why do you want to die? It's crazy."

As he caught her around the waist again, she wailed, "Why shouldn't I die? You think I'm wicked. So does Musashi. Everybody does. There's nothing I can do but die, embracing Musashi in my heart. Never will I let him be taken from me by a woman like that!"

"You're pretty mixed up. How did you get this way?"

"It doesn't matter. All you have to do is push me into the moat. Go ahead,

Jōtarō, push." Covering her face with her hands, she burst into frenzied tears.

This awakened a strange fear in Jōtarō. He, too, felt the urge to cry. "Come on, Akemi. Let's go back."

"Oh, I yearn so to see him. Find him for me, Jōtarō. Please find Musashi for me."

"Stand still! Don't move; it's dangerous."

"Oh, Musashi!"

"Watch out!"

At that moment the rōnin from the sake shop stepped out of the darkness. "Go away, boy," he commanded. "I'll take her back to the inn." He put his hands under Jōtarō's arms and roughly lifted him aside.

He was a tall man, thirty-four or -five years old, with deep-set eyes and a heavy beard. A crooked scar, no doubt left by a sword, ran from below his right ear to his chin. It looked like the jagged tear that appears when a peach is broken open.

Swallowing hard to overcome his fear, Jōtarō tried coaxing. "Akemi, please come with me. Everything'll be all right."

Akemi's head was now resting on the samurai's chest.

"Look," the man said, "she's gone to sleep. Off with you! I'll take her home later."

"No! Let go of her!"

When the boy refused to budge, the rōnin slowly reached out with one hand and grabbed his collar.

"Hands off!" screamed Jōtarō, resisting with all his strength.

"You little bastard! How'd you like to get thrown into the moat?"

"Who's going to do it?" He wriggled loose, and as soon as he was free, his hand found the end of his wooden sword. He swung it at the man's side, but his own body did a somersault and landed on a rock by the roadside. He moaned once, then remained still.

Jōtarō had been out for some time before he began hearing voices around him.

"Wake up, there."

"What happened?"

Opening his eyes, he vaguely took in a small crowd of people.

"Are you awake?"

"Are you all right?"

Embarrassed by the attention he was attracting, he picked up his wooden sword and was trying to get away when a clerk from the inn grabbed his arm. "Wait a minute," he barked. "What happened to the woman you were with?"

Looking around, Jōtarō got the impression that the others were also from the inn, guests as well as employees. Some of the men were carrying sticks; others were holding round paper lanterns.

"A man came and said you'd been attacked and a rōnin had carried the woman off. Do you know which way they went?"

Jōtarō, still dazed, shook his head.

"That's impossible. You must have some idea."

Jōtarō pointed in the first direction that came to hand. "Now I remember. It was that way." He was reluctant to say what really happened, fearing a scolding from Daizō for getting involved, but also dreading to admit in front of these people that the rōnin had thrown him.

Despite the vagueness of his reply, the crowd rushed off, and presently a cry went up: "Here she is. Over here."

The lanterns gathered in a circle around Akemi, whose disheveled form lay where she had been abandoned, on a stack of hay in a farmer's shed. Prodded back to reality by the clatter of running feet, she dragged herself to her feet. The front of her kimono was open; her obi lay on the ground. Hay clung to her hair and clothing.

"What happened?"

While the word "rape" was on the tip of everyone's tongue, no one said it. Nor did it even cross their minds to chase the villain. Whatever had happened to Akemi, they felt, she had brought on herself.

"Come on, let's go back," said one of the men, taking her hand.

Akemi pulled away quickly. Resting her face forlornly against the wall, she broke down in bitter tears.

"Seems to be drunk."

"How'd she get that way?"

Jōtarō had been watching the scene from a distance. What had befallen Akemi was not clear to him in detail, but somehow he was reminded of an experience that had nothing to do with her. The titillation of lying in the fodder shed in Koyagyū with Kocha came back to him, along with the strangely exciting fear of approaching footsteps. But his pleasure quickly evaporated. "I better get back," he said decisively.