Musashi - Eiji Yoshikawa [468]
Otsū saw that Iori took his mission very seriously and was ready to guard the missive with his life. Iori, for his part, was determined to show the letter to no one before he reached his destination. Neither had any inkling of the irony of the situation—a missed chance, a happening rarer than the coming together across the River of Heaven of the Herdboy and the Spinning Maiden.
Turning to Hyōgo, Otsū said, “He seems to have a letter for Sukekurō.”
“He’s wandered off in the wrong direction, hasn’t he? Fortunately, it’s not very far.” Calling Iori to him, he gave him directions. “Go along this river to the first crossroads, then go left and up the hill. When you get to a place where three roads come together, you’ll see a pair of large pine trees off to your right. The house is to the left, across the road.”
“And watch out you don’t get possessed by a fox again,” added Otsū.
Iori had regained his confidence. “Thanks,” he called back, already running along the river. When he reached the crossroads, he half turned and shouted, “To the left here?”
“That’s it,” answered Hyōgo. “The road’s dark, so be careful.” He and Otsū stood watching from the bridge for a minute or two. “What a strange child,” he said.
“Yes, but he seems rather bright.” In her mind she was comparing him with Jōtarō, who had been only a little bigger than Iori when she had last seen him. Jōtarō, she reflected, must be seventeen now. She wondered what he was like and felt an inevitable pang of yearning for Musashi. So many years since she’d had any word of him! Though now accustomed to living with the suffering that love entails, she dared hope that leaving Edo might bring her closer to him, that she might even meet him somewhere along the road.
“Let’s get on,” Hyōgo said brusquely, to himself as much as to Otsū. “There’s nothing to be done about tonight, but we’ll have to be careful not to waste any more time.”
Filial Piety
“What’re you doing, Granny, practicing your handwriting?” Jūrō the Reed Mat’s expression was ambiguous; it might have been admiration, or simply shock.
“Oh, it’s you,” said Osugi with a trace of annoyance.
Sitting down beside her, Jūrō mumbled, “Copying a Buddhist sutra, are you?” This elicited no reply. “Aren’t you old enough so you don’t have to practice your writing anymore? Or are you thinking of becoming a calligraphy teacher in the next world?”
“Be quiet. To copy the holy scriptures, one has to achieve a state of selflessness. Solitude is best for that. Why don’t you go away?”
“After I hurried home just to tell you what happened to me today?” “It can wait.”
“When will you be finished?”
“I have to put the spirit of the Buddha’s enlightenment into each character I write. It takes me three days to make one copy.”
“You’ve got a lot of patience.”
“Three days is nothing. This summer I’m going to make dozens of copies. I’ve made a vow to make a thousand before I die. I’ll leave them to people who don’t have proper love for their parents.”
“A thousand copies? That’s a lot.”
“It’s my sacred vow.”
“Well, I’m not very proud of it, but I guess I’ve been disrespectful to my parents, like the rest of these louts around here. They forgot about them a long time ago. The only one who cares for his mother and father is the boss.”
“It’s a sad world we live in.”
“Ha, ha. If it upsets you that much, you must have a good-for-nothing son too.”
“I’m sorry to say, mine has caused me a lot of grief. That’s why I took the vow. This is the Sutra on the Great Love of Parents. Everyone who doesn’t treat his mother or father right should be forced to read it.”
“You’re really giving a copy of whatever-you-call-it to a thousand people?”
“They say that by planting one seed of enlightenment you can convert a hundred people, and if one sprout of enlightenment grows in a hundred hearts, ten million souls can be saved.” Laying down her brush, she took a finished copy and handed it to Jūrō. “Here, you can have this. See that you read it when