Musashi - Eiji Yoshikawa [166]
“Then you must be a real swordsman.”
“That’s right,” replied Matahachi. He was beginning to enjoy the game.
“You know,” said Yasoma, “I’ve been thinking that’s what you must be. Your body looks disciplined, and there’s an air of capability about you. What were you called when you were training under Jisai? I mean, if I’m not being too bold in asking.”
“My name is Sasaki Kojirō,” said Matahachi with a straight face. “Itō Yagorō, the creator of the Ittō Style, is a senior disciple from the same school.” “Is that a fact?” said Yasoma with astonishment.
For a jittery moment, Matahachi thought of retracting everything, but it was too late. Yasoma had already knelt on the ground and was making a deep bow. There was no turning back.
“Forgive me,” he said several times. “I’ve often heard Sasaki Kojirō was a splendid swordsman, and I must apologize for not having spoken more politely. I had no way of knowing who you were.”
Matahachi was vastly relieved. If Yasoma had happened to be a friend or acquaintance of Kojirō, he would have had to fight for his life.
“You needn’t bow like that,” said Matahachi magnanimously. “If you insist on standing on formalities, we won’t be able to talk as friends.”
“But you must have been annoyed by my spouting off so.”
“Why? I have no particular status or position. I’m only a young man who doesn’t know much about the ways of the world.”
“Yes, but you’re a great swordsman. I’ve heard your name many times. Now that I think about it, I can see you must be Sasaki Kojirō.” He stared intently at Matahachi. “What’s more, I don’t think it’s right that you should have no official position.”
Matahachi replied innocently, “Well, I’ve devoted myself so single-mindedly to my sword that I haven’t had time to make many friends.”
“I see. Does that mean you aren’t interested in finding a good position?” “No; I’ve always thought that one day I’d have to find a lord to serve. I just haven’t reached that point yet.”
“Well, it should be simple enough. You have your reputation with the sword to back you up, and that makes all the difference in the world. Of course, if you remain silent, then no matter how much talent you have, nobody’s likely to search you out. Look at me. I didn’t even know who you were until you told me. I was completely taken by surprise.”
Yasoma paused, then said, “If you’d like me to help you, I’d be glad to. To tell the truth, I’ve asked my friend Susukida Kanesuke to see whether he can find a position for me too. I’d like to be taken on at Osaka Castle, even though there might not be much pay in it. I’m sure Kanesuke would be happy to recommend a person like you to the powers that be. If you’d like, I’ll be glad to speak to him.”
As Yasoma waxed enthusiastic about the prospects, Matahachi could not avoid the feeling that he had stumbled straight into something it wouldn’t be easy to get out of. Eager as he was to find work, he feared he’d made a mistake passing himself off as Sasaki Kojirō. On the other hand, if he had said he was Hon’iden Matahachi, a country samurai from Mimasaka, Yasoma would never have offered his help. Indeed, he probably would have looked down his nose at him. There was no getting around it: the name Sasaki Kojirō had certainly made a strong impression.
But then—was there actually anything to worry about? The real Kojirō was dead, and Matahachi was the only person who knew that, for he had the certificate, the dead man’s only identification. Without it, there was no way for the authorities to know who the rōnin was; it was extremely unlikely they would have gone to the trouble of conducting an investigation. After all, who was the man but a “spy” who had been stoned to death. Gradually, as Matahachi convinced himself that his secret would never be discovered, a bold scheme took definite shape in his mind: he would become Sasaki Kojirō. As of this moment.
“Bring the bill,” he called, taking some coins from his money pouch.
As Matahachi rose to leave, Yasoma, thrown into confusion, blurted, “What about my proposal?”
“Oh,” replied Matahachi, “I