Musashi - Eiji Yoshikawa [287]
At the bottom of a ravine, the darkness loomed like a wall around Otsū. “Matahachi, kill her! There she is, lying on the ground.”
Matahachi gave himself over to the sword completely. Jumping forward, he aimed at the dark form and brought the blade down savagely. “She-devil!” he screamed.
With the cracking of twigs and branches came a screeching death cry.
“Take this, and this!” Matahachi struck three times, four—again and again until it seemed the sword would break in two. He was drunk with blood; his eyes spat fire.
Then it was over. Silence ensued.
Holding the bloody sword listlessly, he returned slowly to his senses, and his face went blank. He looked at his hands and saw the blood on them, felt his face, and there was blood there too, and all over his clothes. He blanched and grew dizzy, sick with the thought that each drop of blood was Otsū’s.
“Splendid, son! You’ve finally done it.” Panting more from exhilaration than from exertion, Osugi stood behind him, and leaning over his shoulder, peered down at the torn and battered foliage. “How happy I am to see this,” she exulted. “We did it, my son. I’ve been relieved of half my burden, and now I can hold up my head in the village again. What’s the matter with you? Quick! Cut off her head!”
Noticing his queasiness, she laughed. “You don’t have any guts. If you can’t bring yourself to cut off her head, I’ll do it for you. Get out of the way.”
He stood stark still until the old woman started toward the bushes, then raised his sword and jabbed the hilt into her shoulder.
“Watch what you’re doing!” cried Osugi as she stumbled forward. “Have you lost your mind?”
“Mother!”
“What?”
Strange sounds gurgled from Matahachi’s throat. He wiped his eyes with his bloody hands. “I’ve … I’ve killed her. I’ve murdered Otsū!”
“And it was a praiseworthy deed too. Why, you’re crying.”
“I can’t help it. Oh, you fool. You crazy, fanatic old fool!”
“Are you sorry?”
“Yes … yes! If it hadn’t been for you—you ought to be dead by now—I’d have somehow gotten Otsū back. You and your family honor!”
“Stop your blabbering. If she meant that much to you, why didn’t you kill me and protect her?”
“If I’d been able to do that, I— Could there be anything worse than having a pigheaded maniac for a mother?”
“Stop carrying on like that. And how dare you speak to me that way!” “From now on I’ll live my life the way I want. If I make a mess of it, that’s nobody’s business but mine.”
“That’s always been a failing of yours, Matahachi. You get excited and make scenes just to cause your mother trouble.”
“I’ll cause you trouble, all right, you old sow. You’re a witch. I hate you!” “My, my! Isn’t he angry…. Get out of the way. I’ll take Otsū’s head, and then I’ll teach you a few things.”
“More talk? I’m not listening.”
“I want you to take a good look at that girl’s head. You’ll see then just how pretty she is. I want you to see with your own eyes what a woman is like after she dies. Nothing but bones. I want you to know the folly of passion.”
“Shut up!” Matahachi shook his head violently. “When I think of it, all I’ve ever wanted was Otsū. When I told myself I couldn’t go on as I was, tried to find a way to succeed, start out again on the right path—it was all because I wanted to marry her. It wasn’t family honor, and it wasn’t for the sake of a horrible old woman.”
“How long are you going to go on about something that’s already finished? You’d do yourself more good chanting sutras. Hail to Amida Buddha!”
She fumbled among the broken branches and dry grass, which were liberally sprinkled with blood, then bent some grass over and knelt on it. “Otsū,” she said, “don’t hate me. Now that you’re dead, I have no more grudge against you. It was all a matter of necessity. Rest in