Musashi - Eiji Yoshikawa [576]
“You seem to be too,” replied Yukimura, relaxing while Sado was still bowing. “I’m pleased to hear Lord Tadatoshi has returned to Buzen safely.”
“Thank you. This is the third year since Lord Yūsai passed away, so he thought it was time.”
“Has it been that long?”
“Yes. I’ve been in Buzen myself, though I have no idea what use Lord Tadatoshi might have for a relic like myself. I served his father and grandfather too, as you know.”
When the formalities were over and they began talking of this and that, Yukimura asked, “Have you seen our Zen master recently?”
“No, I’ve seen or heard nothing of Gudō for some time. That reminds me, it was in his meditation room that I first saw you. You were only a boy then, and you were with your father.” Sado smiled happily as he reminisced about the time he had been put in charge of constructing the Shumpoin, a building the Hosokawas had donated to the Myōshinji.
“A lot of hellions came to Gudō to get the rough edges smoothed off,” said Yukimura. “He accepted them all, not caring whether they were old or young, daimyō or rōnin.”
“Actually, I think he particularly liked young rōnin,” mused Sado. “He used to say that a true rōnin did not seek fame or profit, did not curry favor with the powerful, did not attempt to use political power for his own ends, did not exempt himself from moral judgments. Rather he was as broad-minded as floating clouds, as quick to act as the rain and quite content in the midst of poverty. He never set himself any targets and never harbored any grudges.”
“You remember that after all these years?” asked Yukimura.
Sado nodded ever so slightly. “He also maintained that a true samurai was as hard to find as a pearl in the vast blue sea. The buried bones of the innumerable rōnin who sacrificed their lives for the good of the country he likened to pillars supporting the nation.” Sado looked straight into Yukimura’s eyes as he said this, but the latter did not seem to notice the allusion to men of his own adopted status.
“That reminds me,” he said. “One of the rōnin who sat at Gudō’s feet in those days was a young man from Mimasaka named Miyamoto …” “Miyamoto Musashi?”
“That’s it, Musashi. He impressed me as being a man of great depth, even though he was only about twenty at the time, and his kimono was always filthy.”
“It must be the same man.”
“Then you do remember him?”
“No; I didn’t hear of him until recently, when I was in Edo.”
“He’s a man to watch. Gudō said that his approach to Zen was promising, so I kept an eye on him. Then he suddenly disappeared. A year or two later, I heard he’d won a brilliant victory against the House of Yoshioka. I remember thinking at the time that Gudō must have a very good eye for people.”
“I came across him quite by accident. He was in Shimōsa and gave some villagers a lesson in how to protect themselves from bandits. Later he helped them turn a tract of wasteland into paddy.”
“I think he may be the true rōnin Gudō had in mind—the pearl in the vast blue sea.”
“Do you really think so? I recommended him to Lord Tadatoshi, but I’m afraid finding him is as hard as discovering a pearl. One thing you can be sure of. If a samurai like that took an official position, it wouldn’t be for the sake of the income. He’d be concerned with how his work measured up to his ideals. It may be that Musashi would prefer Mount Kudo to the House of Hosokawa.”
“What?”
Sado brushed off his remark with a short laugh, as if it were a slip of the tongue.
“You’re joking, of course,” said Yukimura. “In my present circumstances, I can hardly afford to hire a servant, let alone a well-known rōnin. I doubt whether Musashi would come even if I did invite him.”
“There’s no need to deny it,” said Sado. “It’s no secret the Hosokawas are on the side of the Tokugawas. And everybody knows you are the support on which Hideyori leans most heavily. Looking at the scroll in the alcove, I was impressed by your loyalty.”
Seemingly offended, Yukimura said, “The scroll was given to me by a certain