Musashi - Eiji Yoshikawa [78]
“Tōji,” he said, “I don’t really want to take them to see Kabuki. Let’s go home.”
“After you’ve already promised?”
“Well …”
“They were so thrilled! They’ll be furious if we back out. I’ll go and hurry them up.”
On his way down the hallway, Tōji glanced into a room where the women’s clothes were strewn about. He was surprised to see neither of them. “Where can they have got to?” he wondered aloud.
They weren’t in the adjoining room either. Beyond that was another gloomy little room, sunless and musty with the odor of bedclothes. Tōji opened the door and was greeted with an angry roar: “Who’s there?”
Jumping back a step, Tōji peered into the dark cubbyhole; it was floored with old tattered mats and was as different from the pleasant front rooms as night is from day. Sprawled on the floor, a sword handle lying carelessly across his belly, was an unkempt samurai whose clothing and general appearance left no doubt that he was one of the rōnin often seen roaming the streets and byways with nothing to do. The soles of his dirty feet stared Tōji in the face. Making no effort to get up, he lay there in a stupor.
Tōji said, “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t know there was a guest in here.”
“I’m not a guest!” the man shouted toward the ceiling. He reeked of sake, and though Tōji had no idea who he was, he was sure he wanted nothing more to do with him.
“Sorry to bother you,” he said quickly, and turned to leave.
“Hold on there!” the man said roughly, raising himself up slightly. “Close the door behind you!”
Startled by his rudeness, Tōji did as he was told and left.
Almost immediately Tōji was replaced by Okō. Dressed to kill, she was obviously trying to look the great lady. As though tut-tutting a child, she said to Matahachi, “Now what are you so angry about?”
Akemi, who was just behind her mother, asked, “Why don’t you come with us?”
“Where?”
“To see the Okuni Kabuki.”
Matahachi’s mouth twisted with repugnance. “What husband would be seen in the company of a man who’s chasing after his wife?” he asked bitterly.
Okō had the feeling that cold water had been thrown in her face. Her eyes lighting up with anger, she said, “What are you talking about? Are you implying that there’s something going on between Tōji and me?”
“Who said anything was going on?”
“You just said as much.”
Matahachi made no reply.
“And you’re supposed to be a man!” Though she hurled the words at him contemptuously, Matahachi maintained his sullen silence. “You make me sick!” she snapped. “You’re always getting jealous over nothing! Come, Akemi. Let’s not waste our time on this madman.”
Matahachi reached out and caught her skirt. “Who’re you calling a madman? What do you mean, talking to your husband that way?”
Okō pulled free of him. “And why not?” she said viciously. “If you’re a husband, why don’t you act like one? Who do you think’s keeping you in food, you worthless layabout!”
“Heh!”
“You’ve hardly earned anything since we left Omi Province. You’ve just been living off me, drinking your sake and loafing. What’ve you got to complain about?”
“I told you I’d go out and work! I told you I’d even haul stones for the castle wall. But that wasn’t good enough for you. You say you can’t eat this, you can’t wear that, you can’t live in a dirty little house—there’s no end to what you can’t put up with. So instead of letting me do honest labor, you start this rotten teahouse. Well, stop it, I tell you, stop it!” he shouted. He began to shake.
“Stop what?”
“Stop running this place.”
“And if I did, what would we eat tomorrow?”
“I can make enough for us to live on, even hauling rocks. I could manage for the three of us.”
“If you’re so eager to carry rocks or saw wood, why don’t you just go away? Go on, be a laborer, anything, but if you do, you can live by yourself! The trouble with you is