Musashi - Eiji Yoshikawa [366]
“I’m glad to hear you say that,” said Kojirō. “I wouldn’t want you to forget. Nor will I.”
Musashi was still smiling as he nodded his agreement.
Entwining Branches
“Otsū, I’m back,” Jōtarō called as he swept through the rustic front gate.
Otsū sat just inside the veranda with her arms propped on a low writing table, staring at the sky as she had been since morning. Under the gable was a wooden plaque bearing an inscription in white characters: “Hermitage of the Mountain Moon.” The little cottage belonging to a priestly official at the Ginkakuji had, at Lord Karasumaru’s request, been lent to Otsū.
Jōtarō plopped down in a clump of blossoming violets and began splashing his feet in the brook to wash off the mud. The water, which flowed directly from the garden of the Ginkakuji, was purer than fresh snow. “Water’s freezing,” he observed with a frown, but the earth was warm and he was happy to be alive and in this beautiful spot. Swallows sang as if they, too, were pleased with the day.
He rose, wiped his feet on the grass and walked over to the veranda. “Don’t you get bored?” he asked.
“No; I have many things to think about.”
“Wouldn’t you like to hear some good news?”
“What news?”
“It’s about Musashi. I heard he’s not so far from here.”
“Where?”
“I’ve been wandering around for days asking if anyone knew where he was, and today I heard he’s staying at the Mudōji on Mount Hiei.”
“In that case, I suppose he’s all right.”
“Probably, but I think we should go there right away, before he goes off someplace. I’m hungry. Why don’t you get ready while I have something to eat?”
“There are some rice dumplings wrapped in leaves. They’re in that three-tiered box over there. Help yourself.”
When Jōtarō finished the dumplings, Otsū hadn’t moved from the table. “What’s the matter?” he asked, eyeing her suspiciously.
“I don’t think we ought to go.”
“Of all the stupid … One minute you’re dying to see Musashi, and the next you start pretending you don’t want to.”
“You don’t understand. He knows how I feel. That night when we met on the mountain, I told him everything, said all there was to say. We thought we’d never see each other alive again.”
“But you can see him again, so what are you waiting for?”
“I don’t know what he’s thinking, whether he’s satisfied with his victory or just staying out of danger. When he left me I resigned myself to never being with him again in this life. I don’t think I should go unless he sends for me.”
“What if he doesn’t do that for years?”
“I’ll go on doing what I’m doing right now.”
“Sit there and look at the sky?”
“You don’t understand. But never mind.”
“What don’t I understand?”
“Musashi’s feelings. I really feel I can trust him now. I used to love him heart and soul, but I don’t think I believed in him completely. Now I do. Everything’s different.
“We’re closer than the branches of the same tree. Even if we’re separated, even if we die, we’ll still be together. So nothing can make me lonely anymore. Now I only pray he’ll find the Way he’s searching for.”
Jōtarō exploded. “You’re lying!” he shouted. “Can’t women even tell the truth? If you want to act that way, all right, but don’t ever mention to me again how much you long to see Musashi. Cry your eyes out! It’s all the same to me.” He’d put a lot of effort into finding out where Musashi had gone from Ichijōji—and now this! He ignored Otsū and didn’t say a word the rest of the day.
Just after dusk, a reddish torchlight crossed the garden, and one of Lord Karasurnaru’s samurai knocked on the door. He handed a letter to Jōtarō, saying, “It’s from Musashi to Otsū. His lordship said Otsū should take good care of herself.” He turned and left.
“It’s Musashi’s handwriting, all right,” thought Jōtarō. “He must be alive.” Then, with a trace of indignation: “It’s addressed to Otsū, not to me, I see.”
Emerging from the rear of the cottage, Otsū