Musashi - Eiji Yoshikawa [618]
“Come on, let’s go,” said Akemi.
Matahachi stood and stared vacantly at the old woman. She was about the same age as Osugi.
Kojirō’s house was full of guests.
“It’s a great opportunity for him.”
“Yes, this’ll make his reputation, once and for all.”
“He’ll be known everywhere.”
“True enough, but we mustn’t forget who his opponent is. Ganryū will have to be very careful.”
Many had arrived the previous night, and callers spilled out into the great entrance hall, the side entrances, the outside corridors. Some hailed from Kyoto or Osaka, others from western Honshu, one from the village of Jōkyōji in distant Echizen. Since there weren’t enough servants in the household, Kakubei had sent some of his to help out. Samurai who were studying under Kojirō came and went, their faces eager with anticipation.
All these friends, all these disciples, had one thing in common: whether they knew Musashi or not, he was the enemy. Particularly virulent in their hatred were the provincial samurai who had at one time or another studied the methods of the Yoshioka School. The humiliation of the defeat at Ichijōji gnawed at their minds and hearts. Moreover, the single-minded determination with which Musashi had pursued his career was such that he had made himself many enemies. Kojirō’s students despised him as a matter of course.
A young samurai led a recent arrival from the entrance hall into the crowded parlor and announced, “This man has made the trip from Kōzuke.”
The man said, “My name is Ichinomiya Gempachi,” and modestly took his place among them.
A murmur of admiration and respect went around the room, for Kōzuke lay a thousand miles to the northeast. Gempachi asked that a talisman he had brought from Mount Hakuun be placed on the household altar, and there were more murmurs of approval.
“The weather will be good on the thirteenth,” remarked one man, glancing out under the eaves at the flaming evening sun. “Today’s the eleventh, tomorrow the twelfth, the next day …”
Addressing Gempachi, one guest said, “I think your coming so far to say a prayer for Kojirō’s success is quite remarkable. Do you have some connection with him?”
“I’m a retainer of the House of Kusanagi in Shimonida. My late master, Kusanagi Tenki, was the nephew of Kanemaki Jisai. Tenki knew Kojirō when Kojirō was still a young boy.”
“I’d heard Kojirō studied under Jisai.”
“That’s true. Kojirō came from the same school as Itō Ittōsai. I’ve heard Ittōsai say many times that Kojirō was a brilliant fighter.” He went on to recount how Kojirō had chosen to reject Jisai’s certificate and create a style of his own. He told, too, of how tenacious Kojirō had been, even as a child. Meeting eager questions with detailed answers, Gempachi talked on and on.
“Isn’t Ganryū Sensei here?” asked a young attendant, picking his way through the crowd. Not seeing him, he went from room to room. He was grumbling to himself by the time he came upon Omitsu, who was cleaning Kojirō’s room. “If you’re looking for the master,” she said, “you’ll find him at the falcon cage.”
Kojirō was inside the cage, looking intently into Amayumi’s eyes. He had fed the bird, brushed off loose feathers, held it for a time on his fist and was now patting it affectionately.
“Sensei.”
“Yes?”
“There’s a woman who says she’s come from Iwakuni to visit you. She said you’d know her when you see her.”
“Hmm. It may be my mother’s younger sister.”
“Which room should I show her to?”
“I don’t want to see her. I don’t want to see anybody…. Oh, I suppose I have to. She is my aunt. Take her to my room.”
The man left and Kojirō called out the door, “Tatsunosuke.”
“Yes, sir.” Tatsunosuke came inside the cage and knelt on one knee behind Kojirō. A student who lived at his house, he was seldom far from his master’s side.
“Not long to wait now, is there?” said