Musashi - Eiji Yoshikawa [271]
“I … I … I didn’t kill him. Don’t make any mistake about that.”
“I know you didn’t. But his family and friends don’t know he was mobbed and murdered by common laborers. That’s not the sort of story that would do him honor, either. I’d hate to have to tell them the truth. So though I feel sorry for you, I think you’ll have to be the culprit. It’d help if you’d consent to my killing you.”
Straining at his ropes, Matahachi cried, “Let me loose! I don’t want to die.”
“That’s quite natural, but look at it another way. You couldn’t pay for the sake you drank. That means you don’t have the ability to take care of yourself. Rather than starve or lead a shameful existence in this cruel world, wouldn’t it be better to rest in peace in another? If it’s money you’re worried about, I have a little. I’d be glad to send it to your parents as a funeral gift. If you prefer, I could send it to your ancestral temple as a memorial donation. I assure you it would be delivered in good order.”
“That’s insane. I don’t want money; I want to live! … Help!”
“I’ve explained everything carefully. Whether you agree or not, I’m afraid you’ll have to stand in as my master’s slayer. Give up, my friend. Consider it an appointment with destiny.” He gripped his sword and stepped back to give himself room to strike.
“Gempachi, wait!” called Kojirō.
Gempachi looked up and shouted, “Who’s there?”
“Sasaki Kojirō.”
Gempachi repeated the name slowly, suspiciously. Was another fake Kojirō about to descend on him from the sky? Still, the voice was too human to belong to a ghost. He jumped well away from the tree and raised his sword straight up in the air.
“This is absurd,” he said, laughing. “It looks like everybody’s calling himself Sasaki Kojirō these days. There’s another one down here, looking very sad. Ah! I’m beginning to understand. You’re one of this man’s friends, aren’t you?”
“No, I’m Kojirō. Look, Gempachi, you’re ready to cut me in two the minute I come down from here, aren’t you?”
“Yes. Bring on all the phony Kojirōs you like. I’ll take care of every one of them.”
“That’s fair enough. If you cut me down, you’ll know I was a fake, but if you wake up dead, you can be sure I was the real Kojirō. I’m coming down now, and I warn you, if you don’t slice me in midair, the Drying Pole will split you like a piece of bamboo.”
“Wait. I seem to remember your voice, and if your sword is the famous Drying Pole, you must be Kojirō.”
“You believe me now?”
“Yes, but what are you doing up there?”
“We’ll talk about that later.”
Kojirō passed over Gempachi’s upturned face and landed behind him in a flurry of pine needles. The transformation amazed Gempachi. The Kojirō he remembered seeing at Jisai’s school had been a dark-skinned, gawky boy; his only job had been drawing water, and in accordance with Jisai’s love of simplicity, he had never worn any but the plainest of clothing.
Kojirō seated himself at the foot of the tree and motioned to Gempachi to do likewise. Gempachi then related how Tenki had been mistaken for an Osaka spy and stoned to death and how the certificate had come into Matahachi’s hands. Though Kojirō was vastly amused to learn how he had acquired a namesake, he said that there was nothing to be gained by killing a man so lacking in strength as to impersonate him. There were other ways of punishing Matahachi. If Gempachi was worried about Tenki’s family or reputation, Kojirō himself would go to Kōzuke and see to it that Gempachi’s master was recognized as a brave and honorable warrior. There was no need to make Matahachi the scapegoat.
“Don’t you agree, Gempachi?” concluded Kojirō.
“If you put it that way, I guess so.”
“All right, that’s that. I have to leave now, but I think you should go back to Kōzuke.”
“I will. I’ll go directly.”
“To tell the truth, I’m rather in a hurry. I’m trying to find a girl who left me rather