Musashi - Eiji Yoshikawa [422]
“When I got there, there were five of them, but the minute I took a stance, one turned tail and ran. I must say, Edo has no shortage of men who talk better than they fight.” He laughed again, this time boisterously.
“Obata?”
“You don’t know him? Obata Kagenori. He comes from the lineage of Obata Nichijō, who served the Takeda family of Kai. Ieyasu took him on, and now he’s a lecturer in military science to the shōgun, Hidetada. He also has his own school.”
“Oh, yes, I remember now.” Yajibei was surprised and impressed by Kojirō’s apparent familiarity with such a celebrated person. “The young man still has his forelock,” he marveled to himself, “but he must be somebody if he associates with samurai of that rank.” The carpenter boss was, after all, a simple soul, and the quality he most admired in his fellow man was clearly brute strength. His admiration for Kojirō intensified.
Leaning toward the samurai, he said, “Let me make you a proposition. I’ve always got forty or fifty young louts lying around my house. How would it be if I built a dōjō for you and asked you to train them?”
“Well, I wouldn’t mind giving them lessons, but you must understand that so many daimyō are tugging at my sleeve with offers—two, three thousand bushels—that I don’t know what to do. Frankly, I wouldn’t seriously consider going into anyone’s service for less than five thousand. Also, I’m rather obligated, just for the sake of courtesy, to stay where I’m living now. Still, I’ve no objection to coming to your place.”
With a low bow, Yajibei said, “I’d greatly appreciate that.”
Osugi chimed in, “We’ll be expecting you.”
Jūrō and Koroku, far too naive to recognize the condescension and self-serving propaganda lacing Kojirō’s speech, were bowled over by the great man’s largesse.
When the boat rounded the turn into the Kyōbashi moat, Kojirō said, “I’ll be getting off here.” He then leapt onto the bank and in a matter of seconds was lost in the dust hovering over the street.
“Very impressive young man,” said Yajibei, still under the spell.
“Yes,” Osugi agreed with conviction. “He’s a real warrior. I’m sure plenty of daimyō would pay him a handsome stipend.” After a moment’s pause, she added wistfully, “If only Matahachi were like that.”
About five days later, Kojirō breezed into Yajibei’s establishment and was ushered into the guest room. There, the forty or fifty henchmen on hand paid their respects, one by one. Kojirō, delighted, remarked to Yajibei that he seemed to lead a very interesting life.
Pursuing his earlier idea, Yajibei said, “As I told you, I’d like to build a dōjō. Would you care to take a look at the property?”
The field in back of the house measured nearly two acres. Freshly dyed cloth hung in one corner, but Yajibei assured Kojirō the dyer he had rented the plot to could easily be evicted.
“You don’t really need a dōjō,” observed Kojirō. “The area’s not open to the street; no one’s likely to intrude.”
“Whatever you say, but what about rainy days?”
“I won’t come if the weather’s bad. I should warn you, though: the practice sessions will be rougher than the ones held by the Yagyū or other schools around town. If your men aren’t careful, they might wind up crippled, or worse. You’d better make that clear to them.”
“There’ll be no misunderstanding about that. Feel free to conduct classes as you see fit.”
They agreed on having lessons three times a month, on the third, the thirteenth and the twenty-third, weather permitting.
Kojirō’s appearances in Bakurōchō were a source of endless gossip. One neighbor was heard to say, “Now they’ve got a show-off over there worse than all the others put together.” His boyish forelock also came in for considerable comment, the general opinion being that since he must be in his early twenties, it