Musashi - Eiji Yoshikawa [617]
“Well, if you go to the top of Mount Kazashi, you can see the pine trees on Funashima. People’ll come anyway, just to gawk at the boats and crowds in Buzen and Nagato.”
“I hope the weather stays good.”
Because of the restriction of shipping activities, boatmen who might otherwise have been turning a tidy profit were doing poorly. Travelers and townsmen, however, took it in their stride, busily searching out vantage points from which they might catch a glimpse of the excitement on Funashima.
About noon on the eleventh, a woman giving breast to her baby was pacing back and forth in front of a “one-tray” eatery where the road from Moji entered Kokura.
The baby, tired from traveling, would not stop crying. “Sleepy? Take a little nap now. There, there. Sleep, sleep.” Akemi patted her foot rhythmically on the ground. She wore no makeup. With a baby to nurse, her life had changed considerably, but there was nothing in her present circumstances that she regretted.
Matahachi came out of the shop, wearing a sleeveless kimono of subdued color. The only hint of the days when he had aspired to becoming a priest was the bandanna on his head, hiding the once shaven head.
“Oh, my, what’s this?” he said. “Still crying? You should be sleeping. Go on, Akemi. I’ll take him while you eat. Eat a lot, so you’ll have plenty of milk.” Taking the child in his arms, he began crooning a soft lullaby.
“Well, this is a surprise!” came a voice from behind him.
“Huh?” Matahachi stared at the man, unable to place him.
“I’m Ichinomiya Gempachi. We met several years ago at the pine forest near Gojō Avenue in Kyoto. I guess you don’t remember me.” When Matahachi continued to stare blankly at him, Gempachi said, “You were going around calling yourself Sasaki Kojirō.”
“Oh!” Matahachi gasped loudly. “The monk with the staff …”
“That’s right. Good to see you again.”
Matahachi hastened to bow, which awakened the baby. “Now, let’s not start crying again,” he pleaded.
“I wonder,” said Gempachi, “if you could tell me where Kojirō’s house is. I understand he lives here in Kokura.”
“Sorry, I have no idea. I just got here myself.”
Two samurais’ attendants emerged from the shop, and one said to Gempachi, “If you’re looking for Kojirō’s house, it’s right by the Itatsu River. We’ll show you the way, if you like.”
“Very kind of you. Good-bye, Matahachi. See you again.” The samurai walked off, and Gempachi fell in step with them.
Matahachi, noticing the dirt and grime clinging to the man’s clothes, thought: “I wonder if he’s come all the way from Kōzuke.” He was deeply impressed that news of the bout had spread to such faraway places. Then the memory of the encounter with Gempachi flowed through his mind, and he shuddered. How worthless, how shallow, how shameless he’d been in those days! To think he had actually been brazen enough to try to pass off the certificate from the Chūjō School as his own, to impersonate … Still, that he could see how churlish he had been was a hopeful sign. At least he’d changed since then. “I suppose,” he thought, “even a stupid fool like me can improve if he stays awake and tries.”
Hearing the baby crying again, Akemi bolted her meal and rushed outdoors. “Sorry,” she said. “I’ll take him now.”
Having placed the baby on Akemi’s back, Matahachi hung a candy peddler’s box from his shoulder and prepared to forge on. A number of passersby looked enviously at this poor, but apparently happy, couple.
An elderly, genteel-looking woman approached and said, “What a lovely baby! How old is he? Oh, look, he’s laughing.” As if on command, the manservant accompanying her stooped and peered at the baby’s face.
They all walked together for a way. Then, as Matahachi and Akemi started to turn into a side street to look for an inn, the woman said, “Oh, are you going that way?” She bade them good-bye, and almost as an afterthought, asked, “You seem to be travelers, too, but would you happen to know where Sasaki Kojirō’s house is?”
Matahachi imparted