Musashi - Eiji Yoshikawa [501]
Shinzō lowered his head. “I owe you an apology—all this trouble because of me.”
“Not really. That was a minor thing. The real root of the matter has to do with the relationship between Kojirō and me.”
“Did you know he killed Obata Yogorō?”
“No.”
“Yogorō, when he heard about me, decided to take revenge himself. He was no match for Kojirō.”
“I warned him….” The image of the youthful Yogorō standing in the entrance of his father’s house was still vivid in Musashi’s mind. “What a pity,” he thought to himself.
“I can understand how he felt,” continued Shinzō. “The students had all left, and his father had died. He must have thought he was the only one who could do it. In any case, he appears to have gone to Kojirō’s house. Still, no one saw them together; there’s no real proof.”
“Mm. Maybe my warning had the opposite effect from what I intended—stirred up his pride so he felt he had to fight. It’s a shame.”
“It is. Yogorō was Sensei’s only blood relation. With his death the House of Obata ceased to exist. However, my father discussed the matter with Lord Munenori, who somehow managed to institute adoption proceedings. I’m to become Kagenori’s heir and successor and carry on the Obata name…. I’m not sure I’m mature enough yet. I’m afraid I may end up bringing further disgrace to the man. After all, he was the greatest proponent of the Kōshū military tradition.”
“Your father’s the Lord of Awa. Isn’t the Hōjō military tradition considered to be on a par with the Kōshū School? And your father as great a master as Kagenori?”
“That’s what they say. Our ancestors came from Tōtōmi Province. My grandfather served Hōjō Ujitsuna and Hōjō Ujiyasu of Odawara, and my father was selected by Ieyasu himself to succeed them as head of the family.”
“Coming from a famous military family, isn’t it unusual for you to have become a disciple of Kagenori’s?”
“My father has his disciples, and he’s given lectures before the shōgun on military science. But instead of teaching me anything, he told me to go out and learn from somebody else. Find out the hard way! That’s the kind of man he is.”
Musashi sensed an element of intrinsic decency, even nobility, in Shinzō’s demeanor. And it was probably natural, he thought, for his father, Ujikatsu, was an outstanding general, and his mother was the daughter of Hōjō Ujiyasu.
“I’m afraid I’ve been talking too much,” said Shinzō. “Actually, my father sent me out here. Of course, it would have been only proper for him to come and express his gratitude to you in person, but just now he has a guest, who’s quite eager to see you. My father told me to bring you back with me. Will you come?” He peered inquiringly into Musashi’s face.
“A guest of your father’s wants to see me?”
“That’s right.”
“Who could it be? I know almost no one in Edo.”
“A person you’ve known since you were a boy.”
Musashi couldn’t imagine who it might be. Matahachi, perhaps? A samurai from Takeyama Castle? A friend of his father’s?
Maybe even Otsū … But Shinzō refused to divulge his secret. “I was instructed not to tell you who it is. The guest said it would be better to surprise you. Will you come?”
Musashi’s curiosity was piqued. He told himself it couldn’t be Otsū, but in his heart hoped it was.
“Let’s go,” he said, rising to his feet. “Iori, don’t wait up for me.”
Shinzō, pleased that his mission was successful, went behind the house and brought his horse. Saddle and stirrups were dripping with dew. Holding the bit, he offered the horse to Musashi, who proceeded without further ado to mount it.
As they left, Musashi said to Iori, “Take care of yourself. I may not be back until tomorrow.” It was not long before he was swallowed up by the evening mist.
Iori sat quietly on the veranda, lost in thought.
“Eyes,” he thought. “Eyes.” Innumerable times he had been ordered to keep his eyes on his opponent’s, but as yet he could neither understand the import of the instruction nor get the idea out of his mind.