Musashi - Eiji Yoshikawa [481]
“Don’t worry your head about my health. I’ve been waiting for years to meet a man like that. I didn’t study military science all this time to teach it to children. I grant that my theories of military science are called the Kōshū Style, but they’re not simply an extension of the formulas used by the famous Kōshū warriors. My ideas differ from those of Takeda Shingen, or Uesugi Kenshin, or Oda Nobunaga, or the other generals who were fighting for control of the country. The purpose of military science has changed since then. My theory is directed toward the achievement of peace and stability. You know some of these things, but the question is, whom can I entrust my ideas to?”
Yogorō was silent.
“My son, while there are many things I want to pass on to you, you’re still immature, too immature to recognize the remarkable qualities of the man you just met.”
Yogorō dropped his eyes but endured the criticism in silence.
“If even I, inclined as I am to look favorably on everything you do, see you as immature, then there’s no doubt in my mind. You’re not yet the person who can carry on my work, so I must find the right man and entrust your future to him. I’ve been waiting for the right person to come along. Remember, when the cherry blossom falls, it must rely on the wind to spread its pollen.”
“You mustn’t fall, Father. You must try to live.”
The old man glared and raised his head. “Talk like that proves you’re still a child! Now go quickly and find the samurai!”
“Yes, sir!”
“Don’t push him. Just tell him roughly what I’ve told you, and bring him back with you.”
“Right away, Father.”
Yogorō departed on the run. Once outside, he first tried the direction he’d seen Musashi take. Then he looked all over the shrine grounds, even went out to the main street running through Kōjimachi, but to no avail.
He was not unduly disturbed, for he was not as thoroughly convinced as his father of Musashi’s superiority, nor was he grateful for Musashi’s warning. The talk about Kojirō’s unusual ability, about the folly of “risking disaster over a trivial grievance” had stuck in his craw. It was as though Musashi’s visit had been for the express purpose of singing Kojirō’s praises.
Even while listening submissively to his father, he had been thinking to himself: “I’m not as young and immature as you say.” And the truth was that just then, he really couldn’t have cared less what Musashi thought.
They were about the same age. Even if Musashi’s talent was exceptional, there were limits to what he could know and what he could do. In the past, Yogorō had gone away for a year, two years, even three, to lead the life of the ascetic shugyōsha. He had lived and studied for a while at the school of another military expert, and he had studied Zen under a strict master. Yet his father, after merely catching a glimpse of the man, had not only formed what Yogorō suspected was an exaggerated opinion of the unknown rōnin’s worth but had gone so far as to suggest that Yogorō take Musashi as a model.
“May as well go back,” he thought sadly. “I suppose there’s no way to convince a parent that his son is no longer a child.” He longed desperately for the day when Kagenori would look at him and suddenly see that he was both a grown man and a brave samurai. It pained him to think that his father might die before that day arrived.
“Hey, Yogorō! It is Yogorō, isn’t it?”
Yogorō turned on his heel and saw that the voice belonged to Nakatogawa Handayū, a samurai from the House of Hosokawa. They had not seen each other recently, but there had been a time when Handayū had attended Kagenori’s lectures regularly.
“How’s our revered teacher’s health? Official duties keep me so busy I haven’t had time to call.”
“He’s about the same, thanks.”
“Say, I hear Hōjō Shinzō attacked Sasaki Kojirō and was beaten.” “You’ve heard that already?”
“Yes; they were talking about it at Lord Hosokawa’s this morning.” “It only happened last night.”
“Kojirō’s a guest of Iwama Kakubei. Kakubei must have passed the word around. Even Lord