Musashi - Eiji Yoshikawa [68]
Terumasa nodded. “I see what you mean. It’s better if you leave this castle, but where will you go? Do you plan to return to Miyamoto? Live out your life there?”
Takezō smiled silently. “I want to wander about on my own for a while.” “I see,” the lord replied, turning to Takuan. “See that he receives money and suitable clothing,” he commanded.
Takuan bowed. “Let me thank you for your kindness to the boy.” “Takuan!” Ikeda laughed. “This is the first time you’ve ever thanked me twice for anything!”
“I suppose that’s true.” Takuan grinned. “It won’t happen again.”
“It’s all right for him to roam about while he’s still young,” said Terumasa. “But now that he’s going out on his own—reborn, as you put it—he should have a new name. Let it be Miyamoto, so that he never forgets his birthplace. From now on, Takezō, call yourself Miyamoto.”
Takezō’s hands went automatically to the floor. Palms down, he bowed deep and long. “Yes, sir, I will do that.”
“You should change your first name too,” Takuan interjected. “Why not read the Chinese characters of your name as ‘Musashi’ instead of ‘Takezō’? You can keep writing your name the same as before. It’s only fitting that everything should begin anew on this day of your rebirth.”
Terumasa, who was by this time in a very good mood, nodded his approval enthusiastically. “Miyamoto Musashi! It’s a good name, a very good name. We should drink to it.”
They moved into another room, sake was served, and Takezō and Takuan kept his lordship company far into the night. They were joined by several of Terumasa’s retainers, and eventually Takuan got to his feet and performed an ancient dance. He was expert, his vivid movements creating an imaginary world of delight. Takezō, now Musashi, watched with admiration, respect and enjoyment as the drinking went on and on.
The following day they both left the castle. Musashi was taking his first steps into a new life, a life of discipline and training in the martial arts. During his three-year incarceration, he had resolved to master the Art of War.
Takuan had his own plans. He had decided to travel about the countryside, and the time had come, he said, to part again.
When they reached the town outside the castle walls, Musashi made as if to take his leave, but the monk grabbed his sleeve and said, “Isn’t there someone you’d like to see?”
“Who?”
“Ogin?”
“Is she still alive?” he asked in bewilderment. Even in his sleep, he’d never forgotten the gentle sister who’d been a mother to him so long.
Takuan told him that when he’d attacked the stockade at Hinagura three years earlier, Ogin had indeed already been taken away. Although no charges were pressed against her, she had been reluctant to return home and so went instead to stay with a relative in a village in the Sayo district. She was now living comfortably there.
“Wouldn’t you like to see her?” asked Takuan. “She’s very eager to see you. I told her three years ago that she should consider you dead, since in one sense, you were. I also told her, however, that after three years I’d bring her a new brother, different from the old Takezō.”
Musashi pressed his palms together and raised them in front of his head, as he would have done in prayer before a statue of the Buddha. “Not only have you taken care of me,” he said with deep emotion, “but you’ve seen to Ogin’s wellbeing too. Takuan, you are truly a compassionate man. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to thank you for what you’ve done.”
“One way to thank me would be to let me take you to your sister.”
“No … No, I don’t think I should go. Hearing about her from you has been as good as meeting her.”
“Surely you want to see her yourself, if only for a few minutes.”
“No, I don’t think so. I did die, Takuan, and I do feel reborn. I don’t think that now is the time to return to the past. What I have to do is take a resolute step forward, into the future. I’ve barely found the way along which I’ll have to travel. When I’ve made some progress