Musashi - Eiji Yoshikawa [230]
Not having slept well, he was particularly bleary-eyed this morning. Akemi, after crying and carrying on so in the evening, had later sipped her gruel, broken into a heavy sweat and slept soundly through the rest of the night. He had hardly closed his eyes until dawn. Even walking under the bright morning sun, the cause of his sleeplessness remained with him. He could not get it out of his mind.
“She’s about the same age as Otsū,” he thought. “But they’re completely different in temperament. Otsū has grace and refinement, but there’s something chilly about her. Akemi’s appealing whether she’s laughing, crying or pouting.”
The youthful feelings aroused in Tanzaemon’s desiccated cells by the strong rays of Akemi’s charm had made him all too conscious of his advancing years. And during the night, as he had looked solicitously at her each time she stirred in her sleep, a different warning had sounded in his heart. “What a wretched fool I am! Haven’t I learned yet? Though I wear the surplice of the priest and play the shakuhachi of the mendicant, I’m still a long way from achieving the clear and perfect enlightenment of P’u-hua. Will I never find the wisdom that will release me from this body?”
After castigating himself at length, he had forced his sad eyes shut and tried to sleep, but to no avail.
As dawn broke, he had again resolved, “I will—I must—put evil thoughts behind me!” But Akemi was a charming girl. She had suffered so. He must try to comfort her. He had to show her that not all the men in the world were demons of lust.
Besides the medicine, he was wondering what sort of present he could bring her when he came back in the evening. Throughout the day’s alms-seeking, his spirit would be bolstered by this desire to do something to make Akemi a little happier. That would suffice; he cherished no greater desire.
At about the time he recovered his composure and the color returned to his face, he heard the flapping of wings above the cliff beside him. The shadow of a large falcon skimmed past, and Tanzaemon watched a gray feather from a small bird flutter down from an oak branch in the leafless grove above him. Holding the bird in its claws, the falcon rose straight up, exposing the undersides of its wings.
Nearby a man’s voice said, “Success!” and the falconer whistled to his bird.
Seconds later, Tanzaemon saw two men in hunting outfits coming down the hill behind the Ennenji. The falcon was perched on the left fist of one of them, who carried a net bag for the catch on the side opposite his two swords. An intelligent-looking brown hunting dog trotted along behind.
Kojirō stopped and took in the surroundings. “It happened somewhere along here yesterday evening,” he was saying. “My monkey was scrapping with the dog, and the dog bit his tail. He hid somewhere and never came out. I wonder if he’s up in one of those trees.”
Seijūrō, looking rather disgruntled, sat down on a rock. “Why would he still be here? He’s got legs too. Anyway, I can’t see why you bring a monkey along when you go hunting with falcons.”
Kojirō made himself comfortable on the root of a tree. “I didn’t bring him, but I can’t keep him from tagging along. And I’m so used to him, I miss him when he’s not around.”
“I thought only women and people of leisure liked to have monkeys and lapdogs for pets, but I guess I was wrong. It’s hard to imagine a student warrior like you being so attached to a monkey.” Having seen Kojirō in action on the dike at Kema, Seijūrō had a healthy respect for his swordsmanship, but his tastes and his general way of life seemed all too boyish. Just living in the same house with him these past few days had convinced Seijūrō that maturity came only with age. While he found it difficult to respect Kojirō as a person, this, in a way, made it easier to associate with him.
Kojirō replied laughingly, “It’s because I’m so young. One of these days, I’ll learn to like