Musashi - Eiji Yoshikawa [550]
Coming to the gateman’s fire, they stopped and stood around it.
Shinzō put his hand to his neck, then noticing the others were looking at him, said, “When it’s cold, it does ache a little.” They took turns examining the scar.
“I heard that was the work of Sasaki Kojirō.”
There was a short, tense silence.
“As it happens, our purpose in coming today was to talk about Kojirō. Yesterday we learned he was the man who killed Yogorō.”
“I suspected that. Do you have any proof?”
“Circumstantial, but convincing. Yogorō’s body was found at the bottom of Isarago Hill, behind the temple. Kakubei’s house is halfway up the hill. Kojirō was living there.”
“Hmm. I wouldn’t be surprised if Yogorō went alone to see Kojirō.”
“We’re pretty sure that’s what happened. Three or four nights before the
body was found, a florist saw a man answering to Yogorō’s description climbing the hill. Kojirō must’ve killed him and carried the body down the hill.” The six men stared solemnly at each other, their eyes reflecting their silent
anger.
Shinzō, his face reddened by the fire, asked, “Is that all?”
“No. We wanted to talk about the future of the House of Obata and how we’re going to take care of Kojirō.”
Shinzō stood lost in thought. The man who had spoken first said, “You may have heard this already. Kojirō’s become a vassal of Lord Hosokawa Tadatoshi. He’s on his way to Buzen now, and he hasn’t paid for what he did—ruin our master’s reputation, kill his only son and heir and slaughter our comrades.”
“Shinzō,” urged a third man, “as disciples of Obata Kagenori, we have to do something.”
Bits of white ash drifted up from the fire. One man caught a whiff of smoke and coughed.
After listening to them for a few minutes, as they expressed their bitter indignation, Shinzō said, “I’m one of the victims, of course, and I have a plan of my own. But tell me just what you have in mind.”
“We’re thinking of lodging a protest with Lord Hosokawa. We’ll tell him the whole story and ask that Kojirō be turned over to us.”
“Then what?”
“We’ll see his head up on a pike in front of the graves of our teacher and his son.”
“You might be able to do that if he were turned over to you tied up. But the Hosokawas aren’t likely to do that. Even though he’s only recently been engaged, he is their vassal, and it’s his skill they’re interested in. Your complaint would only be taken as further proof of his ability. What daimyō is going to turn over one of his vassals to anyone without compelling reasons?”
“Then we’ll have to take extreme measures.”
“Such as?”
“The group he’s traveling with is fairly large. We could easily catch up with them. With you as our leader, the six of us and other loyal disciples—”
“Are you suggesting attacking him?”
“Yes. Go with us, Shinzō.”
“I don’t like it.”
“Aren’t you the one who’s been chosen to carry on the Obata name?” “Admitting an enemy is better than we are is difficult,” Shinzō said thoughtfully. “Still, objectively, Kojirō’s the better swordsman. Even with dozens of men, I’m afraid we’d only end up adding to our shame.”
“You’re going to stand by and do nothing?” asked one man indignantly. “No, I resent Kojirō’s getting away with what he’s done as much as any of you. But I’m willing to wait until the time is right.”
“You’re awfully patient,” one man said sarcastically.
“Aren’t you evading your responsibility?” asked another.
When Shinzō made no reply, the five men decided further talk was useless and departed in haste.
On the way they passed Iori, who had dismounted at the gate and was leading the horse to the stable. After tying the animal up, he saw Shinzō by the fire and went to join him.
“Oh, so you’re back,” said Shinzō.
“Yes,” said Iori. “Say, did you have a quarrel?”
“Why do you ask?”
“When I came in just now, I passed some samurai. They seemed angry. They were saying strange things, like ‘I overestimated him,’ and ‘He’s a weakling.”’
“That doesn’t mean anything,” said Shinzō with a little laugh. “Come closer and warm