Musashi - Eiji Yoshikawa [73]
Tōji was, as usual, both teasing and flattering his master. He turned and ordered one of the men to get the hat and stood waiting for him to thread his way through the lanterns and merrymakers. The errand accomplished, Seijūrō donned the hat and began to feel more relaxed.
“In that hat,” commented Tōji, “you look more than ever like the fashionable man about town.” Turning to the others, he continued his flattery indirectly. “See, the women are all leaning out their doors to get a good look at him.”
Tōji’s sycophancy aside, Seijūrō did cut a fine figure. With two highly polished scabbards hanging from his side, he exuded the dignity and class one would expect from the son of a well-to-do family. No straw hat could stop the women from calling out to him as he walked.
“Hey there, handsome! Why hide your face under that silly hat?” “Come on, over here! I want to see what’s under there.”
“Come on, don’t be shy. Give us a peek.”
Seijūrō reacted to these teasing come-ons by trying to look even taller and more dignified. It had only been a short time since Tōji had first persuaded him to set foot in the district, and it still embarrassed him to be seen there. Born the eldest son of the famous swordsman Yoshioka Kemp& he had never lacked money, but he had remained until recently unacquainted with the seamier side of life. The attention he was getting made his pulse race. He still felt enough shame to hide, though as a rich man’s spoiled son he’d always been something of a show-off. The flattery of his entourage, no less than the flirting of the women, bolstered his ego like sweet poison.
“Why, it’s the master from Shijō Avenue!” one of the women exclaimed. “Why are you hiding your face? You’re not fooling anybody.”
“How does that woman know who I am?” Seijūrō growled at Tōji, pretending to be offended.
“That’s easy,” the woman said before Tōji could open his mouth. “Everybody knows that the people at the Yoshioka School like to wear that dark brown color. It is called ‘Yoshioka dye,’ you know, and it’s very popular around here.”
“That’s true, but as you say, a lot of people wear it.”
“Yes, but they don’t have the three-circle crest on their kimonos.”
Seijūrō looked down at his sleeve. “I must be more careful,” he said as a hand from behind the lattice reached out and latched onto the garment.
“My, my,” said Tōji. “He hid his face but not his crest. He must have wanted to be recognized. I don’t think we can really avoid going in here now.”
“Do whatever you want,” said Seijūrō, looking uncomfortable, “but make her let go of my sleeve.”
“Let go, woman,” Tōji roared. “He says we’re coming in!”
The students crowded in under the shop curtain. The room they entered was so tastelessly decorated with vulgar pictures and messily arranged flowers that it was difficult for Seijūrō to feel at ease. The others, however, took no notice of the shabbiness of their surroundings.
“Bring on the sake!” Tōji demanded, also ordering assorted tidbits.
After the food arrived, Ueda Ryōhei, who was Tōji’s match with a sword, cried, “Bring on the women!” The order was given in exactly the same surly tone Tōji had used to order their food and drink.
“Hey, old Ueda says bring the women!” the others chorused, mimicking Ryōhei’s voice.
“I don’t like being called old,” Ryōhei said, scowling. “It’s true I’ve been at the school longer than any of you, but you won’t find a gray hair on my head.”
“You probably dye it.”
“Whoever said that come forward and drink a cup as punishment!” “Too much trouble. Throw it here!”
The sake cup sailed through the air.
“Here’s the repayment!” And another cup flew through the air. “Hey, somebody dance!”
Seijūrō called out, “You dance, Ryōhei! Dance, and show us how young you are!”
“I am prepared, sir. Watch!” Going to the corner of the veranda, he tied a maid’s red apron around the back of his head, stuck a plum blossom