Musashi - Eiji Yoshikawa [407]
But he, too, had disappeared.
Daizō got up and went to the veranda, which he saw was lined with guests, excitedly gaping with delight at the prostitutes on the first floor.
Spying Jōtarō among the spectators, Daizō swiftly yanked him back into the room. With a forbidding eye, he demanded, “What were you staring at?”
The boy’s long wooden sword, which he did not take off even indoors, scraped the tatami as he sat down. “Well,” he said, “everyone else is looking.”
“And just what are they looking at?”
“Oh, there’re a lot of women in the back room downstairs.”
“Is that all?”
“Yes.”
“What’s so entertaining about that?” The presence of the whores didn’t bother Daizō, but for some reason he found the intense interest of the men gawking at them annoying.
“I don’t know,” replied Jōtarō honestly.
“I’m going for a walk around town,” Daizō said. “You stay here while I’m gone.”
“Can’t I go with you?”
“Not at night.”
“Why not?”
“As I told you before, when I go for a walk, it’s not simply to amuse myself.”
“Well, what’s the idea, then?”
“It has to do with my religion.”
“Don’t you get enough of shrines and temples during the daytime? Even priests have to sleep at night.”
“Religion has to do with more than shrines and temples, young man. Now go find Sukeichi for me. He has the key to my traveling case.”
“He went downstairs a few minutes ago. I saw him peeking into the room where the women are.”
“Him too?” exclaimed Daizō with a click of his tongue. “Go get him, and be quick about it.” After Jōtarō had left, Daizō began retying his obi.
Having heard the women were Kyoto prostitutes, famous for their beauty and savoir faire, the male guests were unable to leave off feasting their eyes. Sukeichi was so absorbed with the sight that his mouth was still hanging open when Jōtarō located him.
“Come on, you’ve seen enough,” snapped the boy, giving the servant’s ear a tug.
“Ouch!” squealed Sukeichi.
“Your master’s calling you.”
“That’s not true.”
“It is too. He said he was going for a walk. He’s always taking walks, isn’t he?”
“Eh? Oh, all right,” said Sukeichi, tearing his eyes away reluctantly.
The boy had turned to follow him when a voice called, “Jōtarō? You’re Jōtarō, aren’t you?”
The voice was that of a young woman. He looked around searchingly. The hope that he would find his lost teacher and Otsū never left him. Could it be? He peered tensely through the branches of a large evergreen shrub.
“Who is it?”
“Me”
The face that emerged from the foliage was familiar.
“Oh, it’s only you.”
Akemi slapped him roughly on the back. “You little monster! And it’s been such a long time since I saw you. What are you doing here?”
“I could ask you the same question.”
“Well, I … Oh, it wouldn’t mean anything to you anyway.”
“Are you traveling with those women?”
“I am, but I haven’t made up my mind yet.”
“Made up your mind about what?”
“Whether to become one of them or not,” she replied with a sigh. After a long pause, she asked, “What’s Musashi doing these days?”
This, Jōtarō perceived, was what she really wanted to know. He only wished he could answer the question.
“Otsū and Musashi and I … we got separated on the highroad.”
“Otsū? Who’s she?” She had hardly spoken before she remembered. “Oh, never mind; I know. Is she still chasing after Musashi?” Akemi was in the habit of thinking of Musashi as a dashing shugyōsha, wandering about as the mood suited him, living in the forest, sleeping on bare rocks. Even if she succeeded in catching him, he’d see right away how dissolute her life had become and shun her. She had long since resigned herself to the idea that her love would go unrequited.
But the mention of another woman awoke feelings of jealousy and rekindled the dying embers of her amorous instinct.
“Jōtarō,” she said, “there’re too many curious eyes around here. Let’s go out somewhere.”
They left via the garden gate. Out in the street, their eyes were regaled by the lights of Hachiōji and its twenty-five hostelries. It was the liveliest town either had