Musashi - Eiji Yoshikawa [54]
“If he stays out in this rain,” she thought in despair, “he’s sure to die before morning. Oh, isn’t there anyone in the world who can save him?”
She started running at full speed, partially propelled by the raging wind. Behind the main temple, the kitchen building and the priests’ quarters were tightly shuttered. Water overflowing from the roof gutters slashed deep gullies in the ground as it rushed downhill.
“Takuan!” she screamed. She’d reached the door of his room, and began banging on it with all her strength.
“Who is it?” came his voice from within.
“It’s me—Otsū!”
“What are you doing still out there?” He quickly opened the door and looked at her in astonishment. Despite the building’s long eaves, rain showered in on him. “Come inside quick!” he exclaimed, making a grab for her arm, but she pulled back.
“No. I came to ask a favor, not to dry off. I beg you, Takuan, take him down from that tree!”
“What? I’ll do no such thing!” he said adamantly.
“Oh, please, Takuan, you must. I’d be grateful to you forever.” She fell on her knees in the mud and lifted her hands in supplication. “It doesn’t matter about me, but you must help him! Please! You can’t just let him die—you can’t!”
The sound of the torrent nearly blotted out her tearful voice. With her hands still raised before her, she looked like a Buddhist practicing austerities by standing under a freezing waterfall.
“I bow before you, Takuan. I beg you. I’ll do anything you ask, but please save him!”
Takuan was silent. His eyes were tightly closed, like the doors to the shrine where a secret Buddha is kept. Heaving a deep sigh, he opened them and breathed fire.
“Go to bed! This minute! You’re weak to begin with, and being out in this weather is suicidal.”
“Oh, please, please,” she pleaded, reaching for the door.
“I’m going to bed. I advise you to do the same.” His voice was like ice. The door slammed shut.
Still, she would not give up. She crawled under the house till she reached the spot she guessed was beneath where he slept. She called up to him:
“Please! Takuan, it’s the most important thing in the world to me! Takuan, can you hear me? Answer me, please! You’re a monster! A heartless, cold-blooded fiend!”
For a while, the monk listened patiently without replying, but she was making it impossible for him to sleep. Finally, in a fit of temper, he jumped out of bed, shouting, “Help! Thief! There’s a thief under my floor. Catch him!”
Otsū scrambled out into the storm again and retired in defeat. But she was not finished yet.
The Rock and the Tree
By early morning, wind and rain had washed spring away without a trace. A throbbing sun beat down furiously and few villagers walked around without a wide-brimmed hat for protection.
Osugi made her way uphill to the temple, arriving at Takuan’s door thirsty and breathless. Beads of sweat emerged from her hairline, converged in rivulets and coursed straight down her righteous nose. She took no notice of this, for she was brimming over with curiosity about her victim’s fate.
“Takuan,” she called, “did Takezō survive the storm?”
The monk appeared on his veranda. “Oh, it’s you. Terrific downpour, wasn’t it?”
“Yes.” She smiled crookedly. “It was murderous.”
“I’m sure you know, however, that it isn’t very difficult to live through a night or two of even the heaviest rain. The human body can take a lot of buffeting. It’s the sun that’s really deadly.”
“You don’t mean he’s still alive?” said Osugi in disbelief, at once turning her wrinkled face toward the old cryptomeria. Her needlelike eyes squinted in the glare. She raised a hand to shield them and in a moment relaxed a bit. “He’s just drooping up there like a wet rag,” she said with renewed hope. “He can’t have any life left in him, he can’t.”
“I don’t see any crows picking at his face yet.” Takuan smiled. “I think that means he’s still breathing.”
“Thank you for telling me. A man of learning like you must