Musashi - Eiji Yoshikawa [172]
“Let me see,” said Osugi. She reached for the scroll, but Matahachi kept a firm grip on it.
“See, Mama, you don’t have to worry about me.”
She nodded. “Yes, indeed, this is fine. Uncle Gon, look at this. Isn’t it splendid? I always thought, even when Matahachi was a baby, that he was smarter and more capable than Takezō and the other boys.” She was so overjoyed she began spitting as she spoke.
At just this moment, Matahachi’s hand slipped, and the name on the scroll became visible.
“Wait a minute,” said Osugi. “Why does it say ‘Sasaki Kojirō’?”
“Oh, that? Why, uh, that’s my nom de guerre.”
“Nom de guerre? Why do you need that? Isn’t Hon’iden Matahachi good enough for you?”
“Yes, fine!” replied Matahachi, thinking fast. “But when I thought it over, I decided not to use my own name. With my shameful past, I was afraid of disgracing our ancestors.”
“I see. That was good thinking, I suppose. Well, I don’t imagine you know anything about what’s gone on in the village, so I’ll tell you. Now pay attention; it’s important.”
Osugi launched into a spirited account of the incident that had occurred in Miyamoto, choosing her words in a way calculated to spur Matahachi to action. She explained how the Hon’iden family had been insulted, how she and Uncle Gon had been searching for years for Otsū and Takezō. Although she tried not to get emotional, she did get carried away with her story; her eyes moistened and her voice thickened.
Matahachi, listening with bowed head, was struck by the vividness of her narrative. At times like this, he found it easy to be a good and obedient son, but whereas his mother’s main concern was family honor and the samurai spirit, he was most deeply moved by something else: if what she was saying was true, Otsū didn’t love him anymore. This was the first time he had actually heard this. “Is that really true?” he asked.
Osugi, seeing his face change color, drew the mistaken conclusion that her lecture on honor and spirit was taking effect. “If you think I’m lying,” she said, “ask Uncle Gon. That trollop abandoned you and ran off with Takezō. To put it another way, you could say Takezō, knowing you wouldn’t be back for some time, lured Otsū into going away with him. Isn’t that right, Uncle Gon?”
“Yes. When Takezō was tied up in the tree, he got Otsū to help him escape, and the two made off together. Everybody said there must have been something going on between them.”
This brought out the worst in Matahachi and inspired a new revulsion against his boyhood friend.
Sensing this, his mother fanned the spark. “Do you see now, Matahachi! Do you understand why Uncle Gon and I left the village? We’re going to have our revenge on those two. Unless I kill them, I can’t ever show my face in the village again or stand before the memorial tablets of our ancestors.”
“I understand.”
“And do you see that unless we avenge ourselves, you can’t return to Miyamoto either?”
“I won’t go back. I’ll never go back.”
“That’s not the point. You’ve got to kill those two. They’re our mortal enemies.”
“Yeah, I guess so.”
“You don’t sound very enthusiastic. What’s the matter? Don’t you think you’re strong enough to kill Takezō?”
“Of course I am,” he protested.
Uncle Gon spoke up. “Don’t worry, Matahachi. I’ll stick by you.”
“And your old mother will too,” added Osugi. “Let’s take their heads back to the village as souvenirs for the people. Isn’t that a good idea, son? If we do, then you can go ahead and find yourself a wife and settle down. You’ll vindicate yourself as a samurai and earn a fine reputation as well. There’s no better name in the whole Yoshino area than Hon’iden, and you will have proved that to everyone beyond a doubt. Can you do it, Matahachi? Will you do it?”
“Yes, Mama.”
“That’s a good son. Uncle Gon, don’t just stand there, congratulate the boy. He’s sworn to take revenge on Takezō and Otsū.” Seemingly satisfied at last, she started to rise from the ground with visible difficulty. “Oh, that hurts!” she cried.
“What’s the matter?” asked Uncle Gon.
“The ground