Musashi - Eiji Yoshikawa [631]
Now for Funashima. He was setting forth calmly, as though this were any other journey. He had no way of knowing whether he would ever return, but he had stopped thinking about it. Years ago, when at the age of twenty-two he had approached the spreading pine at Ichijōji, he had been very keyed up, shadowed by a sense of impending tragedy. He had gripped his lonely sword with intense determination. Now he felt nothing.
It was not that the enemy today was less to be feared than the hundred men he had confronted then. Far from it. Kojirō, fighting alone, was a more formidable opponent than any army the Yoshioka School could have mounted against him. There was not the least doubt in Musashi’s mind but that he was going into the fight of his life.
“Sensei!”
“Musashi!”
Musashi’s mind did a turn at the sound of the voices and the sight of two people running toward him. For an instant he was dazed.
“Gonnosuke!” he exclaimed. “And Granny! How did you two get here?” Both, grimy from travel, knelt in the sand in front of him.
“We had to come,” said Gonnosuke.
“We came to see you off,” said Osugi. “And I came to apologize to you.” “Apologize? To me?”
“Yes. For everything. I must ask you to forgive me.”
He looked inquiringly at her face. The words sounded unreal. “Why do you say that, Granny? Has something happened?”
She stood with her hands clasped pleadingly. “What can I say? I’ve done so many evil things, I can’t hope to apologize for all of them. It was all … all a horrible mistake. I was blinded by my love for my son, but now I know the truth. Please forgive me.”
He stared at her for a moment, then knelt and took her hand. He dared not raise his eyes, for fear there might be tears in them. Seeing the old woman so contrite made him feel guilty. But he felt gratitude too. Her hand trembled; even his was quivering slightly.
It took him a moment to pull himself together. “I believe you, Granny. I’m grateful to you for coming. Now I can face death without regrets, go into the bout with my spirit free and my heart untroubled.”
“Then you’ll forgive me?”
“Of course I will, if you’ll forgive me for all the trouble I’ve caused you since I was a boy.”
“Of course; but enough of me. There’s another person who needs your help. Someone who’s very, very sad.” She turned, inviting him to look.
Under the Heike Pine, looking shyly at them, her face pale and dewy with anticipation, stood Otsū.
“Otsū!” he shouted. In a second, he was before her, not knowing himself how his feet had transported him there. Gonnosuke and Osugi stood where they were, wishing they could disappear into thin air and leave the shore to the couple alone.
“Otsū, you’ve come.”
Words did not exist to bridge the chasm of years, to convey the world of feeling brimming inside him.
“You don’t look well. Are you ill?” He mumbled the words, like an isolated line from a long poem.
“A little.” Eyes lowered, she struggled to remain cool, to keep her wits about her. This moment—perhaps the last—must not be spoiled, nor wasted.
“Is it just a cold?” he asked. “Or something serious? What’s wrong? Where have you been these past few months?”
“I went back to the Shippōji last fall.”
“Back home?”
“Yes.” She looked straight at him, her eyes becoming as limpid as the ocean depths, struggling to hold back the tears. “But there’s no real home for an orphan like me. Only the home inside me.”
“Don’t talk like that. Why, even Osugi seems to have opened her heart to you. That makes me very happy. You must recover your health and learn to be happy. For me.”
“I’m happy now.”
“Are you? If that’s true, I’m happy too…. Otsū …” He bent toward her. She stood stiffly, conscious of Osugi and Gonnosuke. Musashi, who had forgotten them, put his arm around her and brushed his cheek against hers.
“You’re so thin … so thin.” He was acutely conscious of her fevered breathing. “Otsū, please forgive me. I may seem heartless, but I’m not, not where you