Musashi - Eiji Yoshikawa [412]
When Daizō was out of hearing range, Jōtarō emerged from his hiding place and went to the rock. Though he scrutinized the spot carefully, he could discern no trace of what he had just witnessed. He stared at the ground as if at a magician’s empty palm.
“I’d better get moving,” he thought suddenly. “If I’m not there when he gets back to the inn, he’ll be suspicious.” Since the lights of the town were now visible beneath him, he had no trouble setting his course. Running like the wind, he somehow contrived to stay on back roads and keep well out of Daizō’s path.
It was with an expression of perfect innocence that he climbed the stairs at the inn and entered their room. He was in luck; Sukeichi was slumped against the lacquered traveling case, alone and sound asleep. A thin trickle of saliva ran down his chin.
“Hey, Sukeichi, you’ll catch cold there.” Purposely Jōtarō shook him to wake him up.
“Oh, it’s you, is it?” drawled Sukeichi, rubbing his eyes. “What were you doing out this late without telling the master?”
“Are you crazy? I’ve been back for hours. If you’d been awake, you’d have known that.”
“Don’t try to fool me. I know you went out with that woman from the Sumiya. If you’re running around after a whore now, I hate to think what you’ll be acting like when you grow up.”
Just then, Daizō open the shoji. “I’m back,” was all he said.
An early morning start was necessary in order to make Edo before nightfall. Jinnai had his troupe, Akemi restored to it, on the road well before sunrise. Daizō, Sukeichi and Jōtarō, however, took their time over breakfast and were not ready to leave until the sun was fairly high in the sky.
Daizō led the way, as usual, but Jōtarō trailed behind with Sukeichi, which was unusual.
Finally Daizō stopped, asking, “What’s the matter with you this morning?” “Pardon?” Jōtarō did his best to appear nonchalant.
“Is something wrong?”
“No, nothing at all. Why do you ask?”
“You look glum. Not like you.”
“It’s nothing, sir. I was just thinking. If I stay with you, I don’t know whether I’ll ever find my teacher or not. I’d like to go and look for him on my own, if it’s all right with you.”
Without a moment’s hesitation, Daizō replied, “It isn’t!”
Jōtarō had sidled up and started to take hold of the man’s arm, but now he withdrew his hand and asked nervously, “Why not?”
“Let’s rest here awhile,” said Daizō, lowering himself onto the grassy plain for which the province of Musashi was famous. Once seated, he gestured to Sukeichi to go on ahead.
“But I have to find my teacher—as soon as possible,” pleaded Jōtarō.
“I told you, you’re not going off by yourself.” Looking very stern, Daizō put his ceramic pipe to his lips and took a puff. “As of today, you’re my son.”
He sounded serious. Jōtarō swallowed hard, but then Daizō laughed, and the boy, assuming it was all a joke, said, “I couldn’t do that. I don’t want to be your son.”
“What?”
“You’re a merchant. I want to be a samurai.”
“I’m sure you’ll find that Daizō of Narai is no ordinary townsman, without honor or background. Become my adopted son, and I’ll make a real samurai out of you.”
Jōtarō realized with dismay that he meant what he was saying. “May I ask why you decided this so suddenly?” the boy asked.
In a trice, Daizō seized him and pinioned him to his side. Putting his mouth to the boy’s ear, he whispered, “You saw me, didn’t you, you little bastard?” “Saw you?”
“Yes; you were watching, weren’t you?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Watching what?”
“What I did last night.”
Jōtarō tried his best to stay calm.
“Why did you do that?”
The boy’s defenses were close to collapse.
“Why were you prying into my private affairs?”
“I’m sorry!” blurted Jōtarō. “I’m really sorry. I won’t tell a soul.”
“Keep your voice down! I’m not going to punish you, but in return, you’re going to become my adopted son. If you refuse, you give me no choice but to kill you. Now, don’t force me to do that. I think you’re a fine boy, very