Musashi - Eiji Yoshikawa [176]
“Nagamitsu? You don’t say!”
“It doesn’t bear his signature on the tang, but it’s always been thought to be his work. Where I come from, it’s a well-known sword; people call it the Drying Pole.” Though reticent earlier, on subjects he liked he would talk at great length, even volunteer information. Once started, he rattled on, paying little attention to his listener’s reaction. From this, as well as from his account of his earlier experiences, it appeared that he was of stronger character than might have been inferred from his taste in clothes.
At one point, the youth stopped talking for a moment. His eyes grew cloudy and pensive. “While I was in Suō,” he murmured, “Jisai took sick. When I heard about it from Kusanagi Tenki, I actually broke down and cried. Tenki was at the school long before I was and was still there when the master was on his sickbed. Tenki was his nephew, but Jisai didn’t even consider giving him a certificate. Instead he told him he’d like to give me a certificate, along with his book of secret methods. He not only wanted me to have them but had hoped to see me and give them to me personally.” The young man’s eyes moistened with the recollection.
Tōji had not the slightest whit of empathy with this handsome, emotional youth, but talking to him was better than being alone and bored. “I see,” he said, feigning great interest. “And he died while you were away?”
“I wish I could have gone to him as soon as I heard of his illness, but he was in Kōzuke, hundreds of miles from Suō. And then my mother finally died about the same time, so it was impossible for me to be with him at the end.”
Clouds hid the sun, giving the whole sky a grayish cast. The ship began to roll, and foam blew in over the gunwales.
The young man continued his sentimental tale, the gist of which was that he had closed up the family residence in Suō and, in an exchange of letters, had arranged to meet his friend Tenki on the spring equinox. It was unlikely that Jisai, who had no close kin, had left much property, but he had entrusted Tenki with some money for the young man, along with the certificate and the book of secrets. Until they met on the appointed day at Mount Hōraiji in Mikawa Province, halfway between Kōzuke and Awa, Tenki was supposedly traveling around studying. The young man himself planned to spend the time in Kyoto, studying and doing some sightseeing.
Having finished his story, he turned to Tōji and asked, “Are you from Osaka?”
“No, I’m from Kyoto.”
For a while, they were both silent, distracted by the noise of the waves and the sail.
“Then you plan to try to make your way in the world through the martial arts?” said Tōji. While the remark was innocent enough in itself, the look on Tōji’s face revealed condescension bordering on contempt. He had long since had his fill of conceited young swordsmen who went around bragging about their certificates and their books of secrets. It was his considered opinion that there could not possibly be all that many expert swordsmen just wandering around. Had not he himself been in the Yoshioka School for nearly twenty years, and was he not still only a disciple, although a highly privileged one?
The young man shifted his position and looked intently at the gray water. “Kyoto?” he muttered, then turned again to Tōji and said, “I’m told there’s a man there named Yoshioka Seijūrō, the eldest son of Yoshioka Kempō. Is he still active?”
Tōji was in the mood to do some teasing.
“Yes,” he replied simply. “The Yoshioka School seems to be flourishing. Have you visited the place?”
“No, but when I get to Kyoto, I’d like to have a match with this Seijūrō and see how good he is.”
Tōji coughed to suppress a laugh. He was fast growing to detest the young man’s brash self-confidence. Of course, he had no way of knowing Tōji’s position in the school,