Musashi - Eiji Yoshikawa [602]
“Well, maybe, but you have to remember it’s only gossip.”
“But there must be something to it, don’t you think?”
“Do you feel like going to Kyoto?”
“Oh, yes. I’d like to leave right away…. Well, tomorrow.”
“Don’t be in such a hurry. That’s why you’re always missing Musashi. The minute you hear a rumor, you accept it as fact and go flying off. If you want to spot a nightingale, you have to look at a point in front of where its voice comes from. It seems to me you’re always trailing along behind Musashi, rather than anticipating where he might be next.”
“Well, maybe, but love’s not logical.” Not having stopped to think of what she was saying, she was surprised to see his face go crimson at the mention of the word “love.” Recovering quickly, she said, “Thank you for the advice. I’ll think it over.”
“Do that, but in the meantime, come back to Himeji with me.”
“All right.”
“I want you to come to our house.”
Otsū was silent.
“From the way my father talks, I guess he knew you fairly well until you left the Shippōji…. I don’t know what he has in mind, but he said he’d like to see you once more and talk with you.”
The candle was threatening to go out. Otsū turned and looked out under the tattered eaves at the sky. “Rain,” she said.
“Rain? And we have to walk to Himeji tomorrow.”
“What’s an autumn shower? We’ll wear rain hats.”
“I’d like it better if it was fair.”
They closed the wooden rain shutters, and the room soon became very warm and humid. Jōtarō was acutely conscious of Otsū’s feminine fragrance.
“Go to bed,” he said. “I’ll sleep over here.” Placing a wooden pillow under the window, he lay down on his side, facing the wall.
“Aren’t you asleep yet?” grumbled Jōtarō. “You should go to bed.” He pulled the thin covers over his head, but tossed and turned awhile longer before falling into a deep slumber.
The Mercy of Kannon
Otsū sat listening to the water dripping from a leak in the roof. Driven by the wind, the rain whipped in under the eaves and splashed against the shutters. But it was autumn, and there was no way of telling: morning might dawn bright and clear.
Then Osugi came into her thoughts. “I wonder if she’s out in this storm, all wet and cold. She’s old. She might not last till morning. Even if she does, it could be days before she’s found. She could die of starvation.”
“Jōtarō,” she called softly. “Wake up.” She was afraid he’d done something cruel, since she’d heard him tell the old woman’s henchmen he was punishing her and had casually made a similar remark on the way to the inn.
“She’s not really bad at heart.” she thought. “If I’m honest with her, one of these days she’ll understand me…. I must go to her.”
Thinking: “If Jōtarō gets angry, it can’t be helped,” she opened a shutter. Against the blackness of the sky, the rain showed whitely. After tucking up her skirts, she took from the wall a basket hat made out of bamboo bark and tied it on her head. Then she threw a bulky straw rain cape around her shoulders, put on a pair of straw sandals and dashed through the sheet of rain pouring off the roof.
On approaching the shrine where Mambei had taken her, she saw that the stone steps leading up to it had become a many-tiered waterfall. At the top, the wind was much stronger, howling through the cryptomerias like a pack of angry dogs.
“Where can she be?” she thought, as she peered into the shrine. She called into the dark space underneath it, but no answer came.
She went around to the back of the building and stood there for a few minutes. The wailing wind swept over her like breakers on a raging sea. Gradually she became aware of another sound, almost indistinguishable from the storm. It stopped and started again.
“Oh-h-h. Hear me, somebody…. Isn’t somebody out there? … Oh-h-h.” “Granny!” shouted