Musashi - Eiji Yoshikawa [619]
“No, sir.”
“Tomorrow I’ll go to the castle and pay my respects to Lord Tadatoshi. I
haven’t seen him recently. After that, I want to spend a quiet night.”
“There are all those guests. Why don’t you refuse to see them, so you can
have a good rest?”
“That’s what I intend to do.”
“There are so many people around here, you could be defeated by your own supporters.”
“Don’t talk like that. They’ve come from near and far…. Whether I win or not depends on what happens at the appointed time. It’s not entirely a matter of fate, but then again … That’s the way with warriors—sometimes win, sometimes lose. If Ganryū dies, you’ll find two last testaments in my writing cabinet. Give one of them to Kakubei and the other to Omitsu.”
“You’ve written a will?”
“Yes. It’s only proper for a samurai to take that precaution. One other thing. On the day of the fight, I’m allowed one attendant. I want you to go with me. Will you come?”
“It’s an honor I don’t deserve.”
“Amayumi too.” He looked at the falcon. “It’ll be a comfort to me on the boat trip.”
“I understand perfectly.”
“Good. I’ll see my aunt now.”
He found her sitting in his room. Outside, the evening clouds had blackened, like newly forged steel that has just cooled off. The white light of a candle brightened the room.
“Thank you for coming,” he said as he seated himself with a great show of reverence. After his mother’s death, his aunt had reared him. Unlike his mother, she had not spoiled him in the least. Conscious of her duty to her elder sister, she had striven single-mindedly to make him a worthy successor to the Sasaki name and an outstanding man in his own right. Of all his kinsmen, she was the one who had paid closest attention to his career and his future.
“Kojirō,” she began solemnly, “I understand you’re about to face one of the decisive moments of your life. Everybody back home is talking about it, and I felt I had to see you, one more time at least. I’m happy to see you’ve come as far as you have.” She was silently comparing the dignified, well-to-do samurai in front of her with the youth who had left home with nothing but a sword.
Head still lowered, Kojirō replied, “It’s been ten years. I hope you’ll forgive me for not keeping in touch with you. I don’t know whether people consider me a success or not, but I have by no means achieved all I am determined to achieve. That’s why I haven’t written.”
“It doesn’t matter. I hear news of you all the time.”
“Even in Iwakuni?”
“Oh, indeed. Everyone there is for you. If you were to lose to Musashi, the whole Sasaki family—the whole province—would be disgraced. Lord Katayama Hisayasu of Hōki, who’s staying as a guest in the Kikkawa fief, is planning to bring a large group of Iwakuni samurai to see the bout.”
“Is he?”
“Yes. They’ll be terribly disappointed, I suppose, since no boats will be allowed out…. Oh, I’m forgetting. Here, I brought this for you.” She opened a small bundle and took out a folded underrobe. It was made of white cotton; on it were written the names of the god of war and a protective goddess worshiped by warriors. A Sanskrit good-luck charm had been embroidered on both sleeves by a hundred of Kojirō’s female supporters.
He thanked her and reverently held the garment up before his forehead. Then he said, “You must be tired from your trip. You can stay here in this room and go to bed whenever you wish. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”
He left her and went to sit in another room, to which guests soon came offering him a variety of gifts—a sacred charm from the Hachiman Shrine on Mount Otoko, a coat of mail, an enormous sea bream, a barrel of sake. Before long, there was hardly a place to sit down.
While these well-wishers were sincere in their prayers for his victory, it was also true that eight out of ten of them, not doubting that he would win, were currying favor in the hope of advancing their own ambitions later on.
“What if I were a rōnin?” thought Kojirō. Though the sycophancy depressed him, he took satisfaction from the fact that it was he and no one else who