Musashi - Eiji Yoshikawa [185]
On the shoji the pale sunlight mingled with the restless shadow of the pines as though nothing had happened. Outside, all was quiet, save for the distant lapping of the waves and the chatter of the birds.
Deep silence followed Akemi’s muffled wails. After a time, Seijūrō, his face deathly pale, appeared in the outer corridor, holding his right hand over his scratched and bleeding left hand.
Shortly afterward, the door opened again with a bang, and Akemi emerged. With a cry of surprise, Seijūrō, his hand now wrapped in a towel, moved as though to stop her, but not in time. The half-crazed girl fled with lightning speed.
Seijūrō’s face creased worriedly, but he did not pursue her as she crossed the garden and went into another part of the inn. After a moment, a thin, crooked smile appeared on his lips. It was a smile of deep satisfaction.
A Hero’s Passing
“Uncle Gon!”
“What?”
“Are you tired?”
“Yes, a little.”
“I thought so. I’m about walked out myself. But this shrine has splendid buildings, doesn’t it? Say, isn’t that the orange tree they call the secret tree of Wakamiya Hachiman?”
“Seems to be.”
“It’s supposed to be the first item in the eighty shiploads of tribute presented by the King of Silla to Empress Jingū when she conquered Korea.”
“Look over there in the Stable of the Sacred Horses! Isn’t that a fine animal?
It’d certainly come in first at the annual horse race in Kamo.”
“You mean the white one?”
“Yes. Hmm, what does that signboard say?”
“It says if you boil the beans used in the horse fodder and drink the juice, it’ll keep you from crying or gritting your teeth at night. Do you want some?”
Uncle Gon laughed. “Don’t be silly!” Turning around, he asked, “What happened to Matahachi?”
“He seems to have wandered off.”
“Oh, there he is, resting by the stage for the sacred dances.”
The old lady lifted her hand and called to her son. “If we go over that way, we can see the original Great Torii, but let’s go to the High Lantern first.”
Matahachi followed along lazily. Ever since his mother had collared him in Osaka, he’d been with them—walking, walking, walking. His patience was beginning to wear thin. Five or ten days of sightseeing might be all well and good, but he dreaded the thought of accompanying them to take their revenge. He had tried to persuade them that traveling together was a poor way to go about it, that it would be better for him to go and look for Musashi on his own. His mother wouldn’t hear of it.
“It’ll be New Year’s soon,” she pointed out. “And I want you to spend it with me. We haven’t been together to celebrate the New Year holiday for a long time, and this may be our last chance.”
Though Matahachi knew he couldn’t refuse her, he had made up his mind to leave them a couple of days after the first of the year. Osugi and Uncle Gon, possibly fearing they hadn’t long to live, had become so wrapped up in religion they stopped at every shrine or temple possible, leaving offerings and making long supplications to the gods and Buddhas. They had spent nearly all of the present day at Sumiyoshi Shrine.
Matahachi, bored stiff, was dragging his feet and pouting.
“Can’t you walk faster?” Osugi asked in a testy voice.
Matahachi’s pace did not change. Fully as annoyed with his mother as she was with him, he grumbled, “You hurry me along and make me wait! Hurry and wait, hurry and wait!”
“What am I to do with a son like you? When people come to a sacred place, it’s only proper to stop and pray to the gods. I’ve never seen you bow before either a god or a Buddha, and mark my words, you’ll live to regret it. Besides, if you prayed with us, you wouldn’t have to wait so long.”
“What a nuisance!” growled Matahachi.
“Who’s a nuisance?” cried Osugi indignantly.
For the first two or three days everything had been as sweet as honey between them, but once Matahachi had got used to his mother again, he began to take exception to everything she did and said and to make fun of her every chance he got. When night came and they returned