Musashi - Eiji Yoshikawa [559]
“Yes.”
“Isn’t Ueno Castle closer to Araki Village?”
“It is, but there’s no great swordsman like Lord Yagyū at Ueno Castle.”
“Do you like swords?”
“Uh-huh.”
He stopped the ox, let go of the rope and ran down to the edge of the stream. There was a bridge from which a log had fallen. He put it back in place and waited for the man behind them to cross first.
The man looked like a rōnin. As he walked by Otsū, he eyed her brazenly, then glanced back several times from the bridge and from the other side, before disappearing into a fold of the mountain.
“Who do you suppose that is?” asked Otsū nervously.
“Did he frighten you?”
“No, but …”
“There’re lots of rōnin in the mountains around here.”
“Are there?” she said uneasily.
Over his shoulder, Ushinosuke said, “Otsū, I wonder if you’d help me. Do you think you could ask Master Kimura to hire me? I mean, you know, I could sweep the garden, draw water—do things like that.”
It was only recently that the boy had received special permission from Sukekurō to enter the dōjō and watch the men at practice, but already he had only one ambition. His ancestors bore the surname Kikumura; the head of the family for several generations had used the given name Mataemon. Ushinosuke had decided that when he became a samurai he would take the name Mataemon, but none of the Kikumuras had done anything of particular note. He’d change his surname to that of his village, and if his dream came true, become famous far and wide as Araki Mataemon.
As Otsū listened, she thought of Jōtarō and was seized by a sense of loneliness. She was twenty-five now; he must be nineteen or twenty. Looking around at the plum blossoms—not yet in full bloom—she couldn’t help but feel that spring had already passed for her.
“Let’s go back, Ushinosuke,” she said suddenly.
He gave her a questioning look but obediently turned the ox around. “Stop!” shouted a loud male voice.
Two other rōnin had joined the one from the salt shop. All three came and stood around the ox with their arms folded.
“What do you want?” asked Ushinosuke.
The men kept their eyes fixed on Otsū.
“I see what you mean,” said one.
“She’s a beauty, isn’t she?”
“I’ve seen her somewhere before,” said the third man. “In Kyoto, I think.” “She must be from Kyoto, certainly not from any of the villages around here.”
“I don’t remember whether it was at the Yoshioka School or somewhere else, but I know I’ve seen her.”
“Were you at the Yoshioka School?”
“For three years, after Sekigahara.”
“If you’ve got any business with us, say what it is!” Ushinosuke said angrily. “We want to get back before dark.”
One of the rōnin glared at him, as if noticing him for the first time. “You’re from Araki, aren’t you? One of the charcoal-makers?”
“Yes. So what?”
“We don’t need you. Run along home.”
“That’s just what I’m going to do.”
He pulled the rope taut, and one man gave him a look that would have had most boys trembling with fright.
“Get out of the way,” said Ushinosuke.
“This lady’s going with us.”
“Going where?”
“What difference does it make to you? Give me that rope.”
“No!”
“Say, he doesn’t think I mean it.”
The other two men, squaring their shoulders and glowering, moved in on Ushinosuke. One presented a fist as hard as a pine knot in front of his chin.
Otsū clutched the ox’s back. The tilt of Ushinosuke’s eyebrows said very clearly something was going to happen.
“Oh, no, stop!” she cried, hoping to keep the boy from doing anything rash.
But the plaintive note in her voice just spurred him to action. He lashed out swiftly with one leg, caught the man in front of him, sending him staggering backward. No sooner was Ushinosuke’s foot in contact with the ground again than he rammed his head into the gut of the man on his left. Simultaneously he got a grip on the man’s sward and pulled it from its scabbard. Then he began swinging.
He moved with lightning quickness. He whirled and seemed to be attacking in every direction at the same time, all three opponents at once, with equal