Musashi - Eiji Yoshikawa [427]
Like little boys begging for help from an older brother, both men, their faces oddly twisted, sobbed uncontrollably.
“Fools!” Shinzō had to restrain himself from giving them a thrashing. “How many times did I warn you you were no match for him? Why didn’t you listen?”
“After he dragged our master’s name through the mud? After he killed four of our men? You keep saying we’re not being reasonable. Aren’t you the one who’s lost his reason? Controlling your temper, holding yourself back, bearing insults in silence! Is that what you call reasonable? That’s not the Way of the Samurai.”
“Isn’t it? If confronting Sasaki Kojirō was the thing to do, I’d have challenged him myself. He went out of his way to insult our teacher and commit other outrages against us, but that’s no excuse for losing our sense of proportion. I’m not afraid to die, but Kojirō is not worth risking my life or anybody else’s over.”
“That’s not the way most people see it. They think we’re afraid of him. Afraid to stand up for our honor. Kojirō’s been maligning Kagenori all over Edo.”
“If he wants to run off at the mouth, let him. Do you think anybody who knows Kagenori is going to believe he lost an argument to that conceited novice?”
“Do as you please, Shinzō. The rest of us are not going to sit by and do nothing.”
“Just exactly what do you have in mind?”
“Only one thing. Kill him!”
“You think you can? I told you not to go to the Sensōji. You wouldn’t listen. Four men died. You’ve just returned after being defeated by him again. Isn’t that piling shame on dishonor? It’s not Kojirō who’s destroying Kagenori’s reputation, it’s you. I have one question. Did you kill him?”
There was no answer.
“Of course not. I’ll bet anything he doesn’t have a scratch on him. The trouble with you is you don’t have enough sense to avoid meeting him on his own terms. You don’t understand his strength. True, he’s young, he’s of low character, he’s coarse, he’s arrogant. But he’s an outstanding swordsman. How he learned his skill, I don’t know, but there’s no denying he has it. You underestimate him. That’s your first mistake.”
One man pressed in on Shinzō as though ready to attack him physically. “You’re saying that whatever the bastard does, there’s nothing we can do about it.”
Shinzō nodded defiantly. “Exactly. There’s nothing we can do. We’re not
swordsmen; we’re students of military science. If you think my attitude is
cowardly, then I’ll just have to put up with being called a coward.” The wounded man at their feet moaned. “Water … water … please.” His two comrades knelt and propped him into a sitting position.
Seeing they were about to give him some water, Shinzō cried in alarm,
“Stop! If he drinks water, it’ll kill him!”
As they hesitated, the man put his mouth to the bucket. One swallow and his head collapsed into it, bringing the night’s death toll to five.
While the owls hooted at the morning moon, Shinzō silently returned to the sickroom. Kagenori was still asleep, breathing deeply. Reassured, Shinzō went to his own cubicle.
Works on military science lay open on his desk, books he had begun reading but had had no time to finish. Though well born, as a child he had done his share of splitting firewood, carrying water and studying long hours by candlelight. His father, a great samurai, did not believe that young men of his class should be pampered. Shinzō had entered the Obata School with the ultimate aim of strengthening military skills in his family’s fief, and though one of the younger students, he ranked highest in his teacher’s estimation.
These days, caring for his ailing master kept him awake most of the night. He sat now with his arms folded and heaved a deep sigh. Who would look after Kagenori if he were not there? All the other students living at the school were of an uncouth type typically attracted to military matters. The men who came to the school only for classes were even worse. They blustered about, voicing opinions on the masculine subjects