Musashi: Bushido Code (142 page)

Thinking of winning placed a psychological burden on him. He realized this but could not help himself. "Win, win, win." Like a wind-driven wave, the word kept on repeating itself somewhere in his mind. Not even Kojirō was able to grasp why the primitive urge to conquer buffeted his brain with such persistence.

The night wore on, but quite a number of guests stayed up, drinking and talking. It was quite late when the word came.

"Musashi arrived today. He was seen getting off a boat in Moji and later walking down a street in Kokura."

The response was electric, though uttered furtively, in excited whispers. "It stands to reason."

"Shouldn't some of us go over there and take a look around?"

At Daybreak

Musashi arrived in Shimonoseki several days early. Since he knew no one there, and no one knew him, he passed his time quietly, unbothered by sycophants and busybodies.

On the morning of the eleventh, he crossed the Kammon Strait to Moji to call on Nagaoka Sado and confirm his acceptance of the time and place of the bout.

A samurai received him at the entrance hall, staring unabashedly, one thought going through his mind: "So this is the famous Miyamoto Musashi!" All the young man said aloud, however, was: "My master is still at the castle but should be back shortly. Please come in and wait."

"No, thank you; I have no other business with him. If you'd just be so kind as to give him my message ..."

"But you've come so far. He'll be very disappointed to have missed you. If you really have to go, please let me at least tell the others that you're here."

He'd hardly disappeared into the house when Iori came rushing out and into Musashi's arms.

"Sensei!"

Musashi patted him on the head. "Have you been studying, like a good boy?"

"Yes, sir."

"You've grown so tall!"

"Did you know I was here?"

"Yes; Sado told me in a letter. I also heard about you at Kobayashi Tarōzaemon's in Sakai. I'm glad you're here. Living in a house like this will be good for you."

Looking disappointed, Iori said nothing.

"What's the matter?" asked Musashi. "You mustn't forget that Sado's been very good to you."

"Yes, sir."

"You have to do more than just practice martial arts, you know. You have to learn from books. And although you should be the first to help when help is needed, you should try to be more modest than the other boys."

"Yes, sir."

"And don't fall into the trap of feeling sorry for yourself. Many boys like you, who've lost a father or mother, do that. You can't repay the warmheartedness of others unless you're warm and kind in return."

"Yes, sir."

"You're bright, Iori, but be careful. Don't let your rough upbringing get the best of you. Keep yourself under tight rein. You're still a child; you have a long life ahead of you. Guard it carefully. Save it until you can give it for a really good cause—for your country, your honor, the Way of the Samurai. Hold on to your life and make it honest and brave."

Iori had the sinking feeling that this was a parting, a final farewell. His intuition probably would have told him this even if Musashi hadn't spoken of such serious matters, but the mention of the word "life" left little doubt. No sooner had Musashi said it than Iori's head was buried in his chest. The child sobbed uncontrollably.

Musashi, noting that Iori was very well groomed—his hair nicely combed and tied and his white socks immaculate—now regretted his sermon. "Don't cry," he said.

"But what if you ... "

"Stop your bawling. People will see you."

"You ... you're going to Funashima the day after tomorrow?"

"Yes, I have to."

"Win, please win. I can't bear to think of not seeing you again." "Ha, ha. You're crying about that?"

"Some people say you can't beat Kojirō—you shouldn't have agreed to fight him in the first place."

"I'm not surprised. People always talk like that."

"You can win, though, can't you,
Sensei?"

"I wouldn't even waste my time thinking about it."

"You mean you're sure you won't lose?"

"Even if I do lose, I promise to do it bravely."

"But if you think you might, couldn't you just go away somewhere for a while?"

"There's always a germ of truth in the worst of gossip, Iori. I may have made a mistake, but now that it's gone this far, to run away would be to forsake the Way of the Samurai. That would bring dishonor not only on me but on many others as well."

"But didn't you say I should hang on to my life and guard it carefully?" "Yes, I did, and if they bury me on Funashima, let that be a lesson to you and avoid getting into fights that may end in your throwing your life away." Sensing that he was overdoing it, he changed the subject. "I've already asked that my respects be conveyed to Nagaoka Sado. I want you to convey them too, and tell him that I'll see him on Funashima."

Musashi gently shook himself free of the boy. As he walked toward the gate, Iori clung to the basket hat in his hand. "Don't ... Wait ... " was all he could say. He put his other hand to his face. His shoulders were shaking.

Nuinosuke came through a door beside the gate and introduced himself to Musashi. "Iori seems reluctant to let you go, and I'm inclined to sympathize with him. I'm sure you have other things to do, but couldn't you just stay over here one night?"

Musashi, returning his bow, said, "It's good of you to ask, but I don't think I should. In a couple of days I may be asleep for good. I don't think it'd be right for me to burden others now. It might prove to be an embarrassment later on."

"That's very considerate of you, but I'm afraid the master will be furious with us for letting you go."

"I'll send him a note explaining everything. I only came today to pay my respects. I think I should be leaving now."

Outside the gate, he turned toward the beach, but before he'd got halfway there, he heard voices calling from behind. Looking back, he saw a handful of elderly-looking samurai from the House of Hosokawa, two of whom had gray hair. Not recognizing any of them, he assumed they were shouting to someone else and walked on.

Upon reaching the shore, he stood and gazed out over the water. A number of fishing boats rested at anchor in the offing, their furled sails ashen in the misty light of early evening. Beyond the larger mass of Hikojima, the outline of Funashima was barely visible.

"Musashi!"

"You are Miyamoto Musashi, aren't you?"

Musashi turned to face them, wondering what business these aged warriors could have with him.

"You don't remember us, do you? Didn't think you would. It's been too long. My name's Utsumi Magobeinojō. All six of us are from Mimasaka. We used to be in the service of the House of Shimmen at Takeyama Castle."

"And I'm Koyama Handayū. Magobeinojō and I were close friends of your father's."

Musashi smiled broadly. "Well, this is a surprise!" Their drawl, unmistakably that of his native village, stirred up many childhood memories. After bowing to each of them, he said, "It's good to
see
you. But tell me, how does it happen you're all here together, so far from home?"

"Well, as you know, the House of Shimmen was disbanded after the Battle of Sekigahara. We became rōnin and fled to Kyushu, came here to Buzen Province. For a while, to keep body and soul together, we wove straw horseshoes. Later, we had a stroke of good luck."

"Is that so? Well, I must say, I never expected to meet friends of my father's in Kokura."

"It's an unexpected pleasure for us too. You're a fine-looking samurai, Musashi. Too bad your father isn't here to see you now."

For a few minutes they commented to one another on Musashi's fine appearance. Then Magobeinojō said, "Stupid of me; I'm forgetting what we came after you for. We just missed you at Sado's house. Our plan was to spend an evening with you. It's all been arranged with Sado."

Handayū chimed in, "That's right. It was very rude of you to come as far as the front door and leave without seeing Sado; you're the son of Shimmen Munisai. You should know better. Now come back with us." Apparently he felt that having been a friend of Musashi's father authorized him to issue orders to the son. Without waiting for an answer, he started walking away, expecting Musashi to follow.

Musashi, on the point of accompanying them, stopped himself.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I don't think I should go. I apologize for being so rude, but I think it'd be wrong for me to join you."

Everyone came to a halt, and Magobeinojō said, "Wrong? What's wrong about it? We want to give you a proper welcome—same village and all that, you know."

"Sado's looking forward to it too. You don't want to offend him, do you?" Magobeinojō, sounding resentful, added, "What's the matter? Angry about something?"

"I'd like to go," Musashi said politely, "but there are other things to consider. Though it's probably just a rumor, I've heard that my bout with Kojirō is a source of friction between the two oldest retainers in the House of Hosokawa, Nagaoka Sado and Iwama Kakubei. They say Iwama's side has the approval of Lord Tadatoshi, and Nagaoka is trying to strengthen his own faction by opposing Kojirō."

This was met with murmurs of surprise.

"I feel sure," Musashi continued, "that it's no more than idle speculation, but still, public talk is a dangerous thing. What happens to a rōnin like myself doesn't matter much, but I wouldn't want to do anything to fan the rumors and raise suspicions about either Sado or Kakubei. They're both valuable men in the fief."

"I see," said Magobeinojō.

Musashi smiled. "Well, at least that's my excuse. To tell the truth, being a country boy, it's difficult for me to have to sit around and be polite all evening. I'd just like to relax."

Impressed with Musashi's consideration for others but still reluctant to part with him, they put their heads together and discussed the situation.

"This is the eleventh day of the fourth month," said Handayū. "For the past ten years, the six of us have been getting together on this date. We have an ironclad rule against inviting outsiders, but you're from the same village, you're Munisai's son, so we'd like to ask you to join us. It may not be the sort of entertainment we should provide, but you won't have to worry about having to be polite, or being seen or talked about."

"If you put it that way," said Musashi, "I don't see how I can refuse."

The answer pleased the old samurai immensely. After another short huddle, it was arranged that Musashi would meet one of them, a man named Kinami Kagashirō, a couple of hours later in front of a tea shop, and they went their separate ways.

Musashi met Kagashirō at the appointed hour, and they walked about a mile and a half from the center of town to a place near Itatsu Bridge. Musashi saw no samurai houses or restaurants, nothing but the lights of a solitary drinking shop and a cheap inn, both some distance away. Ever on the alert, he began turning possibilities over in his mind. There was nothing suspicious about their story; they looked the right age and their dialect fit in with their story. But why an out-of-the-way place like this?

Kagashirō left him and went toward the riverbank. Then he called Musashi, saying, "They're all here. Come on down," and led the way along the narrow path on the dike.

"Maybe the party's on a boat," thought Musashi, smiling at his own excessive cautiousness. But there was no boat. He found them sitting on reed mats in formal style.

"Forgive us for bringing you to a place like this," said Magobeinojō. "This is where we hold our meeting. We feel some special good fortune has brought you to be with us. Sit down and rest awhile." His manner grave enough to be welcoming an honored guest into a fine parlor with silver-covered shoji, he pushed a strip of matting forward for Musashi.

Musashi wondered if this was their idea of elegant restraint or if there was some particular reason for not meeting in a more public place. But as a guest, he felt constrained to act as one. Bowing, he seated himself formally on the mat.

"Make yourself comfortable," urged Magobeinojō. "We'll have a little party later, but first we have to perform our ceremony. It won't take long."

The six men rearranged themselves more informally, each man taking a sheaf of the straw they'd brought with them, and they proceeded to weave straw horseshoes. Mouths tightly closed, eyes never leaving their work, they appeared solemn, even pious. Musashi watched respectfully, sensing strength and fervor in their movements as they spat on their hands, ran the straw through their fingers and plaited it between their palms.

"I guess this'll do," said Handayū, laying down a finished pair of horseshoes and looking around at the others.

"I'm finished too."

They placed their horseshoes in front of Handayū, brushed themselves off and straightened their clothes. Handayū piled the horseshoes on a small table in the middle of the circle of samurai, and Magobeinojō, the oldest, stood up.

"It's now the twelfth year since the Battle of Sekigahara, since that day of defeat that will never be erased from our memories," he began. "We've all lived longer than we had any right to expect. This we owe to the protection and bounty of Lord Hosokawa. We must see that our sons and grandsons remember his lordship's goodness to us."

Murmurs of assent went around the group. They sat in a reverent attitude, their eyes lowered.

"We must also remember forever the largesse of successive heads of the House of Shimmen, even though that great house no longer exists. Nor should we ever forget the misery and hopelessness that were ours when we came here. It is to remind us of these three things that we hold this meeting each year. Now let us pray as one man for one another's health and welfare."

In chorus, the men replied, "The goodness of Lord Hosokawa, the largesse of the House of Shimmen, the bounty of heaven that has delivered us from distress—we will not forget for a day."

"Now make the obeisance," said Magobeinojō.

They turned toward the white walls of Kokura Castle, seen dimly against the dark sky, and bowed to the ground. Then they turned in the direction of Mimasaka Province and bowed again. Finally, they faced the horseshoes and bowed a third time. Each movement was carried out with the utmost gravity and sincerity.

To Musashi, Magobeinojō said, "Now we're going to the shrine above here and make an offering of the horseshoes. After that we can get on with the party. If you'll just wait here."