Musashi - Eiji Yoshikawa [524]
In many ways, the years had been even less kind to Okō than they had to Tōji. Not only was the charm of her earlier years no longer evident, but running the Oinu Teahouse required her to do a man’s work to make up for her shiftless spouse, since Tōji made a pittance hunting in the winter but did little else. After Musashi burned down their hideout with its trick room at Wada Pass, their henchmen had all deserted them.
Tōji’s bleary red eyes gradually focused on a barrel of water. Pulling himself to his feet, he went over to it and gulped down a dipperful.
Okō leaned on a bench and looked over her shoulder at him. “I don’t care if there is a festival going on. It’s about time you learned when to stop. You’re lucky you didn’t get run through by a sword while you were out.”
“Huh?”
“I’m telling you you’d better be more careful.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Did you know Musashi’s here at the festival?”
“Musashi? Miyamoto … Musashi?” Jolted into wakefulness, he said, “Are you serious? Look, you’d better go hide in the back.”
“Is that all you can think of—hiding?”
“I don’t want what happened at Wada Pass to happen again.”
“Coward. Aren’t you eager to get even with him, not only for that but for what he did to the Yoshioka School? I am, and I’m only a woman.”
“Yeah, but don’t forget, we had lots of men to help us then: Now there’s just the two of us.” Tōji hadn’t been at Ichijōji, but he had heard how Musashi had fought and had no illusions about who would end up dead if the two of them ran into each other again.
Sidling up to her husband, Okō said, “That’s where you’re wrong. There’s another man here, isn’t there? A man who hates Musashi as much as you do.”
Tōji knew she was referring to Baiken, whom they had become acquainted with when their wanderings brought them to Mitsumine.
Since there were no more battles, being a freebooter was no longer profitable, so Baiken had opened a smithy in Iga, only to be driven out when Lord Tōdō tightened his rule over the province. Intending to seek his fortune in Edo, he had disbanded his gang, but then, through the introduction of a friend, had become the watchman at the temple’s treasure house.
Even now, the mountains between the provinces of Musashi and Kai were infested with bandits. In hiring Baiken to guard the treasure house, with its religious treasures and donated cash, the temple elders were fighting fire with fire. He had the advantage of being intimately familiar with the ways of bandits, and he was also an acknowledged expert with the chain-ball-sickle. As the originator of the Yaegaki Style, he might possibly have attracted the attention of a daimyō, had it not been for the fact that his brother was Tsujikaze Temma. In years long past, the two of them had terrorized the region between Mount Ibuki and the Yasugawa district. Changing times meant nothing to Baiken. To his way of thinking, Temma’s death at the hands of Takezō had been the ultimate cause of all his subsequent difficulties.
Okō had long since told Baiken about their grievance against Musashi, exaggerating her rancor in order to cement her friendship with him. He had responded by scowling and saying, “One of these days …”
Okō had just finished telling Tōji how she had caught sight of Musashi from the teahouse, then lost him in the crowd. Later, on a hunch, she had gone to the Kannon’in, arriving just as Musashi and Iori were leaving for the outer shrine. This information she had promptly imparted to Baiken.
“So that’s the way it is,” said Tōji, taking courage from the knowledge that a dependable ally had already been lined up. He knew Baiken, using his favorite weapon, had beaten every swordsman at the recent shrine tournament. If he attacked Musashi, there was a good chance of winning. “What did he say when you told him?”
“He’ll come as soon as he finishes his rounds.”
“Musashi’s no fool. If we’re not careful—” Tōji shuddered and uttered a gruff, unintelligible