Musashi - Eiji Yoshikawa [382]
“The so-called good people of this world are all phonies like Musashi,” he reassured himself. “Well, I see through them now. They can’t fool me anymore. Studying a lot of silly books and putting up with all sorts of hardship just to become another hypocrite is nonsense. From now on, they can tell me whatever they please. If I have to be a villain to do it, one way or another I’ll stop that bastard from making a name for himself. For the rest of his life, I’ll stand in his way!”
He turned around and kicked the grille door in. Then he untied her gag and said coldly, “Still crying, are you?”
She did not answer.
“Answer me! Answer the question I asked you before.”
Enraged by her silence, he kicked her dark form on the floor. She moved out of range and said, “I have nothing to say to you. If you’re going to kill me, do it like a man.”
“Don’t talk like a fool! I’ve made up my mind. You and Musashi have ruined my life, and I’m going to get even no matter how long it takes.”
“That’s nonsense. Nobody led you astray but you yourself. Of course, you may have had a little help from that Okō woman.”
“Watch what you’re saying!”
“Oh, you and your mother! What is it about your family? Why do you always have to go around hating somebody?”
“You talk too much! What I want to know is, are you going to marry me or not?”
“I can answer that question easily.”
“Well, answer then.”
“Throughout this lifetime and the eternal future, my heart is bound to one man, Miyamoto Musashi. How can I possibly care for anyone else, let alone a weakling like you. I hate you!”
A trembling swept over his body. With a cruel laugh, he said, “So you hate me, do you? Well, that’s too bad, because whether you like me or not, from this night on, your body is mine!”
Otsū shook with anger.
“You still want to be difficult about it?”
“I was brought up in a temple. I never saw my father or mother. Death doesn’t frighten me in the least.”
“Are you joking?” he growled, as he dropped to the floor beside her and pressed his face toward hers. “Who said anything about death? Killing you wouldn’t give me any satisfaction. This is what I’m going to do!” Seizing her shoulder and her left wrist, he sank his teeth right through her sleeve and into her upper arm.
Screaming and writhing about, she tried to free herself but only tightened the hold of his teeth on her arm. He did not release her even when blood dribbled down to the wrist he was holding.
Face stark white, she fainted from the pain. Feeling her body grow limp, he let go and hastily forced open her mouth to make sure she hadn’t actually bitten off her tongue. Her face was bathed in sweat.
“Otsū,” he wailed. “Forgive me!” He shook her until she came to.
The moment she was able to speak, she stretched out full length and groaned hysterically. “Oh, it hurts! It hurts so! Jōtarō, Jōtarō, help me!”
Matahachi, pale and gasping for breath, said, “Does it hurt? Too bad! Even after it heals, the mark of my teeth will be there for a long time. What’ll people say when they see that? What’ll Musashi think? I put that there as a brand, so everyone’ll know that one of these days you’ll belong to me. If you want to run away, run, but you’ll never stop being reminded of me.”
In the dark shrine, slightly hazy with dust, the silence was broken only by Otsū’s sobbing.
“Stop blubbering. It gets on my nerves. I’m not going to touch you, so just be quiet. Do you want me to bring you some water?” He took an earthen bowl from the altar and started to go out.
He was surprised to see a man standing outside, looking in. When the man took to his heels, Matahachi bounded through the door and grabbed him.
The man, a farmer on his way to the wholesale market in Shiojiri with several sacks of