Musashi - Eiji Yoshikawa [268]
“Me?” Matahachi answered teasingly. “I am merely a human being.” He grinned deliberately.
The blood rushed to Kojirō’s face. “So you have no name,” he said. “Or could it be that you’re ashamed of your name?”
Provoked but unafraid, Matahachi retorted, “I see no need to give my name to a stranger, who probably wouldn’t recognize it anyway.”
Watch how you talk!” snapped Kojirō. “But let’s leave the fight between you and me until later. I’m going to get that girl down from the tree and take her back where she belongs. You wait here.”
“Don’t talk like a fool! What makes you think I’ll let you have her?” “What’s it got to do with you?”
“That girl’s mother used to be my wife, and I’m not going to let her be harmed. If you lay one finger on her, I’ll slice you to bits.”
“Now, this is interesting. You seem to fancy yourself to be a samurai, though I must say I haven’t seen such a bony one for many a day. But there’s something you should know. This Drying Pole on my back has been weeping in its sleep, because not once since it was passed on as a family heirloom has it gotten its fill of blood. It’s getting a little rusty too, so now I think I’ll polish it a bit on that scrawny carcass of yours. And don’t try to run away!”
Matahachi, lacking the sense to see that this was no bluff, said scornfully, “Stop talking so big! If you want to reconsider, now’s the time. Just leave, while you can still see where you’re going. I’ll spare your life.”
“The same to you. But listen, my fine human being. You boasted that your name was too good to mention to the likes of me. Pray, just what is that illustrious name? It’s part of the etiquette of fighting to declare yourself. Or don’t you know that?”
“I don’t mind telling it, but don’t be startled when you hear it.”
“I shall steel myself against surprise. But first, what is your style of swordsmanship?”
Matahachi figured that no one who prattled on in this fashion could be much of a swordsman; his estimation of his opponent dropped even lower.
“I,” he informed Kojirō, “hold a certificate in the Chūjō Style, which branched off from the style of Toda Seigen.”
Kojirō, astonished, tried to hide a gasp.
Matahachi, believing that he had the advantage, decided it would be foolish not to press it. Mimicking his questioner, he said, “Now would you tell me your style? It’s part of the etiquette of fighting, you know.”
“Later. Just who did you learn the Chūjō Style from?”
“From Kanemaki Jisai, of course,” Matahachi answered glibly. “Who else?” “Oh?” exclaimed Kojirō, now really puzzled. “And do you know Itō Ittōsai?”
“Naturally.” Interpreting Kojirō’s questions as proof his story was taking effect, Matahachi felt sure the young man would soon propose a compromise. Laying it on a bit thicker, he said, “I supposed there’s no reason to hide my connection with Itō Ittōsai. He was a predecessor of mine. By that, I mean that we both studied under Kanemaki Jisai. Why do you ask?”
Kojirō ignored the question. “Then may I ask again, just who are you?” “I am Sasaki Kojirō.”
“Say that again!”
“I am Sasaki Kojirō,” Matahachi repeated very politely.
After a moment of dumbfounded silence, Kojirō uttered a low hum and showed his dimples.
Matahachi glared at him. “Why do you look at me that way? Does my name take you by surprise?”
“I should say it does.”
“All right then—go away!” Matahachi commanded menacingly, raising his chin.
“Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha! Oh! Ha, ha, ha!” Kojirō held his stomach to keep from collapsing with laughter. When he finally brought himself under control, he said, “I’ve met many people in the course of my travels, but never have I heard anything to compare with this. Now, Sasaki Kojirō, would you kindly tell me who I am?”
“How should I know?”
“But you must know! I hope I don’t seem to be rude, but just to be sure I heard you right, would you repeat your name one more time?”
“Haven’t you got ears? I’m Sasaki Kojirō.”
“And I am … ?”
“Another human being, I suppose.”
“No question about