Musashi - Eiji Yoshikawa [467]
“Gloomy, isn’t it?” said Hyōgo with a smile, again slowing down his naturally long strides to let Otsū catch up with him. “This is Dōgen Slope. There used to be bandits around here,” he added.
“Bandits?” There was just enough alarm in her voice to make him laugh.
“That was a long time ago, though. A man by the name of Dōgen Tarō, who was related to the rebel Wada Yoshimori, is supposed to have been the head of a band of thieves who lived in the caves around here.”
“Let’s not talk about things like that.”
Hyōgo’s laughter echoed through the dark, and hearing it made him feel guilty for acting frivolous. He couldn’t help himself, however. Though sad, he looked forward with pleasure to being with Otsū these next few days.
“Oh!” cried Otsū, taking a couple of steps backward.
“What’s the matter?” Instinctively, Hyōgo’s arm went around her shoulders. “There’s somebody over there.”
“Where?”
“It’s a child, sitting there by the side of the road, talking to himself and crying. The poor thing!”
When Hyōgo got close enough, he recognized the boy he had seen earlier that evening, hiding in the grass in Azabu.
Iori leaped to his feet with a gasp. An instant later, he uttered an oath and pointed his sword at Hyōgo. “Fox!” he cried. “That’s what you are, a fox!”
Otsū caught her breath and stifled a scream. The look on Iori’s face was wild, almost demonic, as if he were possessed by an evil spirit. Even Hyōgo drew back cautiously.
“Foxes!” Iori shouted again. “I’ll take care of you!” His voice cracked hoarsely, like an old woman’s. Hyōgo stared at him in puzzlement but was careful to steer clear of his blade.
“How’s this?” shouted Iori, whacking off the top of a tall shrub not far from Hyōgo’s side. Then he sank to the ground, exhausted by his effort. Breathing hard, he asked, “What did you think of that, fox?”
Turning to Otsū, Hyōgo said with a grin, “Poor little fellow. He seems to be possessed by a fox.”
“Maybe you’re right. His eyes are ferocious.”
“Just like a fox’s.”
“Isn’t there something we can do to help him?”
“Well, they say there’s no cure for either madness or stupidity, but I suspect there’s a remedy for his ailment.” He walked up to Iori and glared sternly at him.
Glancing up, the boy hastily gripped his sword again. “Still here, are you?” he cried. But before he could get to his feet, his ears were assailed by a fierce roar coming from the pit of Hyōgo’s stomach.
“Y-a-a-w-r!”
Iori was scared witless. Hyōgo picked him up by the waist, and holding him horizontally, strode back down the hill to the bridge. He turned the boy upside down, grasped him by the ankles and held him out over the railing.
“Help! Mother! Help, help! Sensei! Save me!” The screams gradually changed to a wail.
Otsū hastened to the rescue. “Stop that, Hyōgo. Let him go. You shouldn’t be so cruel.”
“I guess that’s enough,” said Hyōgo, setting the boy down gently on the bridge.
Iori was in a terrible state, bawling and choking, convinced there was not a soul on earth who could help him. Otsū went to his side and put her arm affectionately around his drooping shoulders. “Where do you live, child?” she asked softly.
Between sobs, Iori stammered, “0-over th-th-that way,” and pointed. “What do you mean, ‘that way’?”
“Ba-ba-bakurōchō.”
“Why, that’s miles away. How did you get all the way out here?” “I came on an errand. I got lost.”
“When was that?”
“I left Bakurōchō yesterday.”
“And you’ve been wandering around all night and all day?” Iori half shook his head, but didn’t say anything. “Why, that’s terrible. Tell me, where were you supposed to go?”
A little calmer now, he replied promptly, as though he’d been waiting for the question. “To the residence of Lord Yagyū Munenori of Tajima.” After feeling around under his obi, he clutched the crumpled letter and waved it proudly in front of his face. Bringing