Musashi - Eiji Yoshikawa [178]
“If I cut one down, will it convince you I’m not just talking?”
“Well … yes, it will.”
“All right, I’ll do it.”
“Fine, splendid!” Tōji laughed sarcastically. “But don’t forget, if you undertake this just for pride’s sake and fail, you’ll really be laughed at.”
“I’ll take that chance.”
“I’ve no intention of stopping you.”
“And you will stand by as a witness?”
“Why, I’d be only too glad to!”
The young man took a position on a lead plate in the center of the afterdeck and moved his hand toward his sword. As he did so, he called out Tōji’s name. Tōji, staring curiously, asked what he wanted, and the youth, speaking with great seriousness, said, “Please have some sea gulls fly down in front of me. I’m ready to cut down any number of them.”
Tōji suddenly recognized the similarity between what was going on and the plot of a certain humorous tale attributed to the priest Ikkyū; the young man had succeeded in making an ass of him. Angrily he shouted, “What sort of nonsense is this? Anyone who could make sea gulls fly in front of him would be able to cut them down.”
“The sea stretches out for thousands of miles, and my sword is only three feet long. If the birds won’t come near, I can’t cut them down.”
Advancing a couple of paces, Tōji gloated, “You’re just trying to work yourself out of a bad spot. If you can’t kill a sea gull on the wing, say you can’t, and apologize.”
“If I intended to do that, I wouldn’t be standing here waiting. If the birds won’t come near, then I’ll cut something else for you.”
“Such as … ?”
“Just come another five steps closer. I’ll show you.”
Tōji came nearer, growling, “What are you up to now?”
“I just want you to let me make use of your head—the head with which you dared me to prove I wasn’t just boasting. When you consider the matter, it would be more logical to cut that off than to kill innocent sea gulls.”
“Have you lost your mind?” shouted Tōji. His head ducked reflexively, for just at that instant, the young man whipped his sword from its scabbard and used it. The action was so fast that the three-foot sword seemed no larger than a needle.
“Wh-wh-what?” cried Tōji, as he staggered backward and put his hands to his collar. His head was still there, fortunately, and as far as he could tell, he was unharmed.
“Do you understand now?” asked the youth, turning his back and walking off between the piles of baggage.
Tōji was already crimson with embarrassment, when looking down at a sunlit patch of the deck, he saw a peculiar-looking object, something like a little brush. A horrible thought came into his mind, and he put his hand to the top of his head. His topknot was gone! His precious topknot—the pride and joy of any samurai! Horror on his face, he rubbed the top of his head and found that the band tying his hair at the back was undone. The locks it had held together had fanned out over his scalp.
“That bastard!” Unmitigated rage swept through his heart. He knew now, only too well, that the youth had been neither lying nor voicing an empty boast. Young he was, but he was a spectacular swordsman. Tōji was amazed that anyone so young could be so good, but the respect he felt in his mind was one thing, and the choler in his heart something else again.
When he raised his head and looked toward the bow, he saw that the youth had returned to his previous seat and was searching around on the deck for something. He was obviously off guard, and Tōji sensed that the opportunity for revenge had presented itself. Spitting on the hilt of his sword, he grasped it tightly and sneaked up behind his tormenter. He was not sure his aim was good enough to take off the man’s topknot without taking off his head too, but he did not care. Body swollen and red, breathing heavily, he steeled himself to strike.
Just then, a commotion arose among the cardplaying merchants. “What’s going on here? There aren’t enough cards!”
“Where’d they go?”
“Look over there!”
“I