Musashi - Eiji Yoshikawa [57]
“Wait!”
Takuan turned and called back, “What do you want now?”
“Come back.”
“Mm. Don’t tell me you want to hear more? Could it be that at last you’re beginning to think?”
“Takuan! Save me!” Takezō’s cry for help was loud and plaintive. The branch began to tremble, as though it, as though the whole tree, were weeping.
“I want to be a better man. I realize now how important it is, what a privilege it is to be born human. I’m almost dead, but I understand what it means to be alive. And now that I know, my whole life will consist of being tied to this tree! I can’t undo what I’ve done.”
“You’re finally coming to your senses. For the first time in your life, you’re talking like a human being.”
“I don’t want to die,” Takezō cried. “I want to live. I want to go out, try again, do everything right this time.” His body convulsed with his sobbing. “Takuan … please! Help me … help me!”
The monk shook his head. “Sorry, Takezō. It’s out of my hands. It’s the law of nature. You can’t do things over again. That’s life. Everything in it is for keeps. Everything! You can’t put your head back on after the enemy’s cut it off. That’s the way it is. Of course, I feel sorry for you, but I can’t undo that rope, because it wasn’t me who tied it. It was you. All I can do is give you some advice. Face death bravely and quietly. Say a prayer and hope someone bothers to listen. And for the sake of your ancestors, Takezō, have the decency to die with a peaceful look on your face!”
The clatter of Takuan’s sandals faded into the distance. He was gone, and Takezō cried out no more. Following the spirit of the monk’s advice, he shut the eyes that had just experienced a great awakening and forgot everything. He forgot about living and about dying, and under the myriad tiny stars lay perfectly still as the night breeze sighed through the tree. He was cold, very cold.
After a while, he sensed that someone was at the base of the tree. Whoever it was was clutching the broad trunk and trying frantically but not very adroitly to climb up to the lowest branch. Takezō could hear the climber slipping downward after almost every upward advance. He could also hear chips of bark falling to the ground and was sure that the hands were being skinned much worse than the tree was. But the climber kept at it doggedly, digging into the tree again and again until finally the first branch was within reach. Then the form rose with relative ease to where Takezō, barely distinguishable from the branch he was stretched on, lay depleted of every ounce of strength. A panting voice whispered his name.
With great difficulty he opened his eyes and found himself face to face with a veritable skeleton; only the eyes were alive and vibrant. The face spoke. “It’s me!” it said with childlike simplicity.
“Otsū?”
“Yes, me. Oh, Takezō, let’s run away! I heard you scream out that you wanted with all your heart to live.”
“Run away? You’ll untie me, set me free?”
“Yes. I can’t stand this village anymore either. If I stay here—oh, I don’t even want to think about it. I have my reasons. I just want to get out of this stupid, cruel place. I’ll help you, Takezō! We can help each other.” Otsū was already wearing traveling clothes, and all her worldly possessions hung from her shoulder in a small fabric bag.
“Quick, cut the rope! What are you waiting for? Cut it!”
“It won’t take a minute.”
She unsheathed a small dagger and in no time severed the captive’s bonds. Several minutes passed before the tingling in his limbs eased and he could flex his muscles. She tried to support his entire weight, with the result that when he slipped, she went down with him. The two bodies clung to each other, bounced off a limb, twisted in the air and crashed to the ground.
Takezō stood up. Dazed from the thirty-foot fall and numbingly weak, he nevertheless planted his feet firmly on the earth. Otsū writhed in pain on her hands and knees.
“O-o-h-h,” she moaned.
Putting his arms around her, he helped her up.
“Do you think you broke something?