Musashi - Eiji Yoshikawa [69]
“I see.”
“I find it hard to put into words, but I hope you’ll understand anyway.”
“I do. I’m glad to see you’re as serious about your goal as you are. Keep following your own judgment.”
“I’ll say good-bye now, but someday, if I don’t get myself killed along the way, we’ll meet again.”
“Yes, yes. If we have a chance to meet, let’s by all means do so.” Takuan turned, took a step, and then halted. “Oh, yes. I suppose I should warn you that Osugi and Uncle Gon left Miyamoto in search of you and Otsū three years ago. They resolved never to return until they’ve taken their revenge, and old as they are, they’re still trying to track you down. They may cause you some inconvenience, but I don’t think they can make any real trouble. Don’t take them too seriously.
“Oh, yes, and then there’s Aoki Tanzaemon. I don’t suppose you ever knew his name, but he was in charge of the search for you. Perhaps it had nothing to do with anything you or I said or did, but that splendid samurai managed to disgrace himself, with the result that he’s been dismissed permanently from Lord Ikeda’s service. He’s no doubt wandering about too.” Takuan grew grave. “Musashi, your path won’t be an easy one. Be careful as you make your way along it.”
“I’ll do my best.” Musashi smiled.
“Well, I guess that’s everything. I’ll be on my way.” Takuan turned and walked westward. He didn’t look back.
“Keep well,” Musashi called after him. He stood at the crossroads watching the monk’s form recede until it was out of sight. Then, once again alone, he started to walk toward the east.
“Now there’s only this sword,” he thought. “The only thing in the world I have to rely on.” He rested his hand on the weapon’s handle and vowed to himself, “I will live by its rule. I will regard it as my soul, and by learning to master it, strive to improve myself, to become a better and wiser human being. Takuan follows the Way of Zen, I will follow the Way of the Sword. I must make of myself an even better man than he is.”
After all, he reflected, he was still young. It was not too late.
His footsteps were steady and strong, his eyes full of youth and hope. From time to time he raised the brim of his basket hat, and stared down the long road into the future, the unknown path all humans must tread.
He hadn’t gone far—in fact, he was just on the outskirts of Himeji—when a woman came running toward him from the other side of Hanada Bridge. He squinted into the sunlight.
“It’s you!” Otsū cried, clutching his sleeve.
Musashi gasped in surprise.
Otsū’s tone was reproachful. “Takezō, surely you haven’t forgotten? Don’t you remember the name of this bridge? Did it slip your mind that I promised to wait here for you, no matter how long it took?”
“You’ve been waiting here for the last three years?” He was astounded.
“Yes. Osugi and Uncle Gon caught up with me right after I left you. I was sick and had to take a rest. And I almost got myself killed. But I got away. I’ve been waiting here since about twenty days after we said good-bye at Nakayama Pass.”
Pointing to a basket-weaving shop at the end of the bridge, a typical little highroad stall selling souvenirs to travelers, she continued: “I told the people there my story, and they were kind enough to take me on as a sort of helper. So I could stay and wait for you. Today is the nine hundred and seventieth day, and I’ve kept my promise faithfully.” She peered into his face, trying to fathom his thoughts. “You will take me with you, won’t you?”
The truth, of course, was that Musashi had no intention of taking her or anyone else with him. At this very moment, he was hurrying away to avoid thinking about his sister, whom he wanted to see so badly and felt so strongly drawn toward.
The questions raced through his agitated mind: “What can I do? How can I embark on my quest for truth and knowledge with a woman, with anyone, interfering all the time? And this particular girl is, after all, still betrothed to Matahachi.