Musashi - Eiji Yoshikawa [194]
“That’s amazing. It really is.”
As Kojirō chuckled with delight, his eyes dropped to his bloody sword, which reminded him that there had been a fight and made him wonder how they would straighten everything out. As it happened, however, he and Seijūrō hit it off so well that an understanding was soon reached, and after a few minutes they were walking along the dike shoulder to shoulder, like old friends. Behind them were Ryōhei and the three dejected disciples. The little group headed toward Kyoto.
Kojirō was saying, “From the beginning, I couldn’t see what the fight was all about. I had nothing against them.”
Seijūrō’s thoughts were on Gion Tōji’s recent conduct. “I’m disgusted with Tōji,” he said. “When I get back, I’ll call him to account. Please don’t think I have any grudge against you. I’m simply mortified to find that the men in my school aren’t better disciplined.”
“Well, you can see what sort of man I am,” Kojirō replied. “I talk too big and I’m always ready to fight anybody. Your disciples weren’t the only ones to blame. In fact, I think you should give them some credit for trying to defend your school’s good name. It’s unfortunate they’re not much as fighters, but at least they tried. I feel a little sorry for them.”
“I’m the one to blame,” Seijūrō said simply. The expression on his face was one of genuine pain.
“Let’s just forget the whole thing.”
“Nothing would please me more.”
The sight of the two making up came as a relief to the others. Who would have thought this handsome, overgrown boy was the great Sasaki Kojirō, whose praises Ittōsai had sung? (“The prodigy of Iwakuni” were his actual words.) No wonder Tōji, in his ignorance, had been tempted to do some teasing. And no wonder he had ended up looking ridiculous.
It made Ryōhei and the other three shiver to think how close they had come to being mowed down by the Drying Pole. Now that their eyes had been opened, the sight of Kojirō’s broad shoulders and sturdy back made them wonder how they could have been so stupid as to underestimate him in the first place.
After a time, they came again to the landing. The corpses were already frozen, and the three were assigned to bury them, while Ryōhei went to find the horse. Kojirō went about whistling for his monkey, which suddenly appeared out of nowhere and jumped on his master’s shoulder.
Seijūrō not only urged Kojirō to come along to the school on Shijō Avenue and stay awhile but even proffered his horse. Kojirō refused.
That wouldn’t be right,” he said, with unaccustomed deference. “I’m just a young rōnin, and you’re the master of a great school, the son of a distinguished man, the leader of hundreds of followers.” Taking hold of the bridle, he continued, “Please, you ride. I’ll just hold on to this. It’s easier to walk that way. If it’s really all right for me to go with you, I’d like to accept your offer and stay with you in Kyoto for a time.”
Seijūrō, with equal cordiality, said, “Well, then, I’ll ride for now, and when your feet get tired, we can change places.”
Seijūrō, faced with the certain prospect of having to fight Miyamoto Musashi at the beginning of the New Year, was reflecting that it was not a bad idea to have a swordsman like Sasaki Kojirō around.
Eagle Mountain
In the 1550s and 1560s, the most famous master swordsmen in eastern Japan were Tsukahara Bokuden and Lord Kōizumi of Ise, whose rivals in central Honshu were Yoshioka Kempō of Kyoto and Yagyū Muneyoshi of Yamato. In addition there was Lord Kitabatake Tomonori of Kuwana, a master of the martial arts and an outstanding governor. Long after his death, the people of Kuwana spoke of him with affection, since to them he symbolized the essence of good government and prosperity.
When Kitabatake studied under Bokuden, the latter passed on to him his Supreme Swordsmanship: his most secret of secret methods. Bokuden’s son, Tsukahara Hikoshirō, inherited his father’s name and estate but had not been bequeathed his secret treasure. It was for this reason that Bokuden’s style spread not in the east,