Musashi - Eiji Yoshikawa [97]
The breeze of love
Tugs at the sleeve of my kimono.
Oh, the sleeve weighs heavy!
Is the breeze of love heavy?
Jōtarō stood on top of the dike. His lively eyes surveyed the scene and he smiled amicably. “You sing well, Auntie,” he called out.
“What’s that?” asked Akemi. She looked up at the gnomelike child with his long wooden sword and his enormous basket hat. “Who are you?” she asked. “And what do you mean, calling me Auntie? I’m still young!”
“Okay—Sweet Young Girl. How’s that?”
“Stop it,” she said with a laugh. “You’re much too little to be flirting. Why don’t you blow your nose instead?”
“I only wanted to ask a question.”
“Oh, my!” she cried in consternation. “There goes my cloth!”
“I’ll get it for you.”
Jōtarō chased down the riverbank after the cloth, then fished it out of the
water with his sword. At least, he reflected, it comes in handy in a situation like this one. Akemi thanked him and asked what he wanted to know. “Is there a teahouse around here called the Yomogi?”
“Why, yes, it’s my house, right over there.”
“Am I glad to hear that! I’ve spent a long time looking for it.”
“Why? Where do you come from?”
“Over that way,” he replied, pointing vaguely.
“And just where might that be?”
He hesitated. “I’m not really sure.”
Akemi giggled. “Never mind. But why are you interested in our teahouse?” “I’m looking for a man named Hon’iden Matahachi. They told me at the Yoshioka School that if I went to the Yomogi, I’d find him.”
“He’s not there.”
“You’re lying!”
“Oh, no; it’s true. He used to stay with us, but he went off some time ago.” “Where to?”
“I don’t know.”
“But someone at your house must know!”
“No. My mother doesn’t know either. He just ran away.”
“Oh, no.” The boy crouched down and stared worriedly into the river. “Now what am I supposed to do?” he sighed.
“Who sent you here?”
“My teacher.”
“Who’s your teacher?”
“His name is Miyamoto Musashi.”
“Did you bring a letter?”
“No,” said Jōtarō, shaking his head.
“A fine messenger you are! You don’t know where you came from, and you don’t have a letter with you.”
“I have a message to deliver.”
“What is it? He may never come back, but if he does, I’ll tell him for you.” “I don’t think I should do that, do you?”
“Don’t ask me. Make up your own mind.”
“Maybe I should, then. He said he wanted to see Matahachi very much. He said to tell Matahachi that he’d wait on the great bridge at Gojō Avenue every morning from the first day to the seventh day of the new year. Matahachi should meet him there on one of those days.”
Akemi broke into uncontrollable laughter. “I never heard of such a thing! You mean he’s sending a message now telling Matahachi to meet him next year? Your teacher must be as strange as you are! Ha, ha!”
A scowl came over Jōtarō’s face, and his shoulders tensed with anger. “What’s so funny?”
Akemi finally managed to stop laughing. “Now you’re angry, aren’t you?” “Of course I am. I just asked you politely to do me a favor, and you start laughing like a lunatic.”
“I’m sorry, I really am. I won’t laugh anymore. And if Matahachi comes back, I’ll give him your message.”
“Is that a promise?”
“Yes, I swear.” Biting her lips to avoid smiling, Akemi asked, “What was his name again? The man who sent you with the message.”
“Your memory’s not too good, is it? His name is Miyamoto Musashi.” “How do you write Musashi?”
Picking up a bamboo stick, Jōtarō scratched the two characters in the sand. “Why, those are the characters for Takezō!” exclaimed Akemi.
“His name isn’t Takezō. It’s Musashi.”
“Yes, but they can also be read Takezō.”
“Stubborn, aren’t you?” snapped Jōtarō, tossing the bamboo stick into the river.
Akemi stared fixedly at the characters in the sand, lost in thought. Finally she lifted her gaze from the ground to Jōtarō, reexamined him from head to toe, and in a soft