Musashi - Eiji Yoshikawa [29]
Nodding as she listened, Osugi realized now why Takezō hadn’t appeared at the Shippōji, and more importantly, that he probably hadn’t gone home, since that was the first place the soldiers would search. At the same time, since it seemed he was traveling alone, her fury wasn’t diminished in the least. But as for Matahachi being dead, she couldn’t believe that either.
“I know Takezō can be as strong and cunning as any wild beast, sir,” she said coyly, “But I shouldn’t think that samurai of your caliber would have any trouble capturing him.”
“Well, frankly, that’s what I thought at first. But there aren’t many of us and he’s just killed one of my men.”
“Let an old woman give you a few words of advice.” Leaning over, she whispered something in his ear. Her words seemed to please him immensely.
He nodded his approval and enthusiastically exclaimed, “Good idea! Splendid!”
“Be sure to do a thorough job of it,” urged Osugi as she took her leave.
Not long afterward, the samurai regrouped his band of fourteen or fifteen men behind Ogin’s house. After he briefed them, they piled over the wall, surrounding the house and blocking all exits. Several soldiers then stormed into the house, leaving a trail of mud, and crowded into the inner room where the two young women sat commiserating and dabbing at their tear-stained faces.
Confronted by the soldiers, Otsū gasped and turned white. Ogin, however, proud to be the daughter of Munisai, was unperturbed. With calm, steely eyes, she stared indignantly at the intruders.
“Which one of you is Takezō’s sister?” asked one of them.
“I am,” replied Ogin coldly, “and I demand to know why you’ve entered this house without permission. I will not stand for such brutish behavior in a house occupied only by women.” She had turned to face them directly.
The man who had been chatting with Osugi a few minutes earlier pointed to Ogin. “Arrest her!” he ordered.
Barely were the words out of his mouth before violence erupted, the house began to shake and the lights went out. Uttering a cry of terror, Otsū stumbled out into the garden, while at least ten of the soldiers fell upon Ogin and began tying her up with a rope. Despite her heroic resistance, it was all over in a few seconds. They then pushed her down onto the floor and began kicking her as hard as they could.
Otsū couldn’t recall afterward which way she had come, but somehow she managed to escape. Barely conscious, she ran barefoot toward the Shippōji in the misty moonlight, relying completely on instinct. She had grown up in peaceful surroundings and now felt as though the world were caving in.
When she reached the foot of the hill where the temple stood, someone called to her. She saw a shape sitting on a rock among the trees. It was Takuan.
“Thank heaven it’s you,” he said. “I was really starting to worry. You never stay out this late. When I realized the time, I came out looking for you.” He looked down toward the ground and asked, “Why are you barefoot?”
He was still gazing at Otsū’s bare white feet when she rushed headlong into his arms and began wailing.
“Oh, Takuan! It was awful! What can we do?”
In a calm voice, he tried to soothe her. “There, there. What was awful? There aren’t many things in this world that are all that bad. Calm down and tell me what happened.”
“They tied Ogin up and took her away! Matahachi didn’t come back, and now poor Ogin, who’s so sweet and gentle—they were all kicking her. Oh, Takuan, we’ve got to do something!”
Sobbing and trembling, she clung desperately to the young monk, her head resting on his chest.
It was noon on a still, humid spring day, and a faint mist rose from the young man’s sweating face. Takezō was walking alone in the mountains, whither he knew not. He was tired almost beyond endurance, but even at the sound of a bird alighting, his eyes would dart around. Despite the ordeal he’d been through, his mud-spattered body came alive with pent-up violence