Musashi - Eiji Yoshikawa [226]
Although Akemi said not a word, Yasoma persisted, answering his own questions when necessary.
“It’s really quite dangerous. They say women from Kyoto are being sold for very high prices in Edo now. A long time ago, they used to take women from here up to Hiraizumi in the northeast, but now it’s Edo. That’s because the second shōgun, Hidetada, is building up the city as fast as he can. The brothels in Kyoto are all opening up branches there now.”
Akemi said nothing.
“You’d stand out anywhere, so you should be careful. If you don’t watch out, you might get involved with some scoundrel. It’s terribly dangerous!”
Akemi had had enough. Throwing her sleeves up on her shoulders in anger, she turned and hissed loudly at him.
Yasoma just laughed. “You know,” he said, “I think you really are crazy.” “Shut up and go away!”
“Well, aren’t you?”
“You’re the crazy one!”
“Ha, ha, ha! That as much as proves it. You’re crazy. I feel sorry for you.” “If you don’t get out of here, I’ll throw a rock at you!”
“Aw, you don’t want to do that, do you?”
“Go away, you beast!” The proud front she was putting up masked the terror she actually felt. She screamed at Yasoma and ran into a field of miscanthus, where once had stood Lord Komatsu’s mansion and its garden filled with stone lanterns. She seemed to swim through the swaying plants.
“Wait!” cried Yasoma, going after her like a hunting dog.
Above Toribe Hill rose the evening moon, looking like the wild grin of a she-demon.
There was no one in the immediate vicinity. The nearest people were about three hundred yards away, in a group slowly descending a hill, but they wouldn’t have come to her rescue even if they had heard her shouts, for they were returning from a funeral. Clad in formal white clothing and hats tied with white ribbons, they carried their prayer beads in their hands; a few of them were still weeping.
Suddenly Akemi, pushed sharply from behind, stumbled and fell.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” said Yasoma. He fell on top of her, apologizing all the while. “Did it hurt?” he asked solicitously, hugging her to him.
Seething with anger, Akemi slapped his bearded face, but this did not faze him. Indeed, he seemed to like it. He merely squinted and grinned as she struck. Then he hugged her more closely and rubbed his cheek against hers. His beard felt like a thousand needles sticking into her skin. She could barely breathe. As she scratched desperately at him, one of her fingernails clawed the inside of his nose, bringing forth a stream of blood. Still, Yasoma did not relax the tight hold he had on her.
The bell at the Amida Hall on Toribe Hill was tolling a dirge, a lamentation on the impermanence of all things and the vanity of life. But it made no impression on the two struggling mortals. The withered miscanthus waved violently with their movements.
“Calm down, stop fighting,” he pleaded. “There’s nothing to be afraid of. I’ll make you my bride. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
Akemi screamed, “I just want to die!” The misery in her voice startled Yasoma.
“Why? Wh-what’s the matter?” he stammered.
Akemi’s crouching position, with her hands, knees and chest drawn tightly together, resembled the bud of a sasanqua flower. Yasoma began to comfort and cajole, hoping to soothe her into surrender. This did not seem to be the first time he had encountered a situation of this sort. On the contrary, it would appear that this was something he liked, for his face shone with pleasure, without losing its menacing quality. He was in no hurry; like a cat, he enjoyed playing with his victim.
“Don’t cry,” he said. “There’s nothing to cry about, is there?” Giving her a kiss on the ear, he went on, “You must have been with a man before. At your age, you couldn’t be innocent.”
Seijūrō! Akemi recalled how stifled and miserable she had been