Musashi - Eiji Yoshikawa [21]
Otsū burst out laughing at his irreverent display. “You do look just like him, you know!”
“Of course I do. I am the living incarnation of Prince Siddhartha.”
“Then stand perfectly still. Don’t move! I’ll go and get some tea to pour over you.”
At this point, a bee began a full-scale assault on the monk’s head and his reincarnation pose instantly gave way to a flailing of arms. The bee, noticing a gap in his loosely hung loincloth, darted in, and Otsū doubled up with laughter. Since the arrival of Takuan Sōhō, which was the name he was given on becoming a priest, even the reticent Otsū went few days without being amused by something he’d do or say.
Suddenly, however, she stopped laughing. “I can’t waste any more time like this. I have important things to do!”
As she was slipping her small white feet into her sandals, the monk asked innocently, “What things?”
“What things? Have you forgotten too? Your little pantomime just reminded me. I’m supposed to get everything ready for tomorrow. The old priest asked me to pick flowers so we can decorate the flower temple. Then I have to set everything up for the anointing ceremony. And tonight I’ve got to make the sweet tea.”
“Where are you going flower-picking?”
“Down by the river, in the lower part of the field.”
“I’ll come with you.”
“Without any clothes on?”
“You’ll never be able to cut enough flowers by yourself. You need help. Besides, man is born unclothed. Nakedness is his natural state.”
“That may be, but I don’t find it natural. Really, I’d rather go alone.”
Hoping to elude him, Otsū hurried around to the rear of the temple. She strapped a basket on her back, picked up a sickle and slipped out the side gate, but only moments later turned to see him close behind her. Takuan was now swathed in a large wrapping cloth, the kind people used to carry their bedding.
“Is this more to your liking?” he called with a grin.
“Of course not. You look ridiculous. People will think you’re crazy!”
“Why?”
“Never mind. Just don’t walk next to me!”
“You never seemed to mind walking beside a man before.”
“Takuan, you’re perfectly horrible!” She ran off ahead, with him following in strides that would have befitted the Buddha descending from the Himalayas. His wrapping cloth flapped wildly in the breeze.
“Don’t be angry, Otsū! You know I’m teasing. Besides, your boyfriends won’t like you if you pout too much.”
Eight or nine hundred yards down from the temple, spring flowers were blooming profusely along both banks of the Aida River. Otsū put her basket down and, amid a sea of fluttering butterflies, began swinging her sickle in wide circles, cutting the flowers off near their roots.
After a while, Takuan grew reflective. “How peaceful it is here,” he sighed, sounding both religious and childlike. “Why, when we could live out our lives in a flower-filled paradise, do we all prefer to weep, suffer and get lost in a maelstrom of passion and fury, torturing ourselves in the flames of hell? I hope that you, at least, won’t have to go through all that.”
Otsū, rhythmically filling her basket with yellow rape blossoms, spring chrysanthemums, daisies, poppies and violets, replied, “Takuan, instead of preaching a sermon, you’d better watch out for the bees.”
He nodded his head, sighing in despair. “I’m not talking about bees, Otsū. I simply want to pass on to you the Buddha’s teaching on the fate of women.” “This woman’s fate is none of your business!”
“Oh, but you’re wrong! It’s my duty as a priest to pry into people’s lives. I
agree it’s a meddlesome trade, but it’s no more useless than the business of a merchant, clothier, carpenter or samurai. It exists because it is needed.” Otsū softened. “I suppose you’re right.”
“It does happen, of course, that the priesthood has been on bad terms with womankind for some three thousand years. You see, Buddhism teaches that women are evil. Fiends. Messengers of hell. I’ve spent years immersed in the scriptures, so it’s no accident that you and I fight all the time.”
“And why, according to your