Musashi - Eiji Yoshikawa [507]
When he had answered Sukekurō’s letter with a challenge to Lord Munenori, his motive had not been the shallow urge to score a victory that had led him to challenge Sekishūsai. Now his wish was to be engaged in the business of governing. Not on any grand scale, of course; a small, insignificant fief would suffice for the activities he imagined would promote the cause of good government.
But he lacked the confidence to express these ideas, feeling that other swordsmen would dismiss his youthful ambitions as being absurd. Or, if they took him seriously, they would feel compelled to warn him: politics leads to destruction; by going into government he would sully his beloved sword. They would do this out of genuine concern for his soul.
He even believed that if he spoke his mind truthfully, the two warriors and the priest would react either with laughter or with alarm.
When he did get around to speaking, it was to protest—he was too young, too immature, his training was inadequate… .
At length, Takuan cut him off, saying, “Leave it to us.”
Lord Ujikatsu added, “We’ll see that it turns out all right for you.” The matter was decided.
Coming in periodically to trim the lamp, Shinzō had caught the gist of the conversation. He quietly let his father and the guests know that what he had heard pleased him immensely.
The Locust Tree
Matahachi opened his eyes and looked around, got up and poked his head out the back door.
“Akemi!” he called.
There was no answer.
Something prompted him to open the closet. She had recently finished making a new kimono. It was gone.
Going next door first, to Umpei’s, he then walked through the alley toward the street, anxiously asking everyone he met if they’d seen her.
“I saw her this morning,” said the charcoal vendor’s wife.
“You did? Where?”
“She was all dressed up. I asked her where she was off to, and she said to see relatives in Shinagawa.”
“Shinagawa?”
“Doesn’t she have relatives there?” she asked skeptically.
He started to say no, but caught himself. “Uh, yes, of course. That’s where she’s gone.”
Run after her? In truth, his attachment to her was not particularly strong, and he was more annoyed than anything else. Her disappearance left a bittersweet taste.
He spat and gave vent to an oath or two, then strolled down to the beach, just on the other side of the Shibaura highroad. A little back from the water stood a scattering of fishermen’s houses. It was his habit to come here every morning while Akemi was cooking rice and look for fish. Usually at least five or six had fallen from the nets, and he would return just in time to have them cooked for breakfast. Today he ignored the fish.
“What’s the matter, Matahachi?” The pawnbroker from the main street tapped him on the shoulder.
“Good morning,” said Matahachi.
“It’s nice to be out early, isn’t it? I’m glad to see you come out for a walk every morning. Great for your health!”
“You’re joking, I suppose. Maybe if I was rich like you, I’d be walking for my health. For me, walking’s work.”
“You don’t look too well. Something happen?”
Matahachi picked up a handful of sand and cast it bit by bit into the wind. Both he and Akemi were well acquainted with the pawnbroker, who had tided them over several emergencies.
Undaunted, the man continued: “You know, there’s something I’ve been meaning to talk to you about, but I never seem to have the chance. Are you going out to work today?”
“Why bother? It’s not much of a living, selling watermelons.”
“Come fishing with me.”
Matahachi scratched his head and looked apologetic. “Thanks, but I really don’t like to fish.”
“Well, you don’t have to fish if you don’t want to. But come along anyway. It’ll make you feel better. That’s my boat over there. You can scull a boat, can’t you?”
“I guess so.”
“Come along. I’m going to tell you how to make a lot of money—maybe a thousand pieces of gold. How would you like that?”
Suddenly Matahachi had a great interest in going fishing.
About a thousand yards offshore, the