Musashi: Bushido Code (141 page)

A Falcon and a Woman

At the time of the Battle of Sekigahara, Kokura had been the site of a fortress commanded by Lord Mōri Katsunobu of Iki. Since then the castle had been rebuilt and enlarged and acquired a new lord. Its towers and glistening white walls bespoke the great power and dignity of the House of Hosokawa, headed now by Tadatoshi, who had succeeded his father, Tadaoki.

In the short time since Kojirō's arrival, the Ganryū Style, developed on the foundation he had learned from Toda Seigen and Kanemaki Jisai, had swept over all Kyushu. Men even came from Shikoku to study under him, hoping that after a year or two of training they would be awarded a certificate and receive sanction to return home as teachers of this new style.

Kojirō enjoyed the esteem of those around him, including Tadatoshi, who had been heard to remark with satisfaction, "I found myself a very good swordsman." In every quarter of the extensive Hosokawa household, it was agreed that Kojirō was a person of "outstanding character." And when he traveled between his home and the castle, he did so in style, attended by seven lancers. People went out of their way to approach him and pay their respects.

Until his coming, Ujiie Magoshirō, a practitioner of the Shinkage Style, had been the clan's chief sword instructor, but his star dimmed rapidly as Kojirō's grew more brilliant. Kojirō treated him magniloquently. To Lord Tadatoshi, he had said, "You mustn't let Ujiie go. While his style is not flashy, it does have a certain maturity we younger men lack." He suggested that he and Magoshirō give lessons in the castle's dōjō on alternate days, and this was put into practice.

At one point, Tadatoshi said, "Kojirō says Magoshirō's method is not flashy, but mature. Magoshirō says Kojirō is a genius with whom he cannot match swords. Who is right? I'd like to see a demonstration."

The two men agreed to subsequently face each other with wooden swords in his lordship's presence. At the first opportunity, Kojirō discarded his weapon, and seating himself at his opponent's feet, announced, "I'm no match for you. Forgive my presumption."

"Don't be modest," replied Magoshirō. "I'm the one who's not a worthy opponent."

Witnesses were divided as to whether Kojirō acted out of compassion or self-interest. In any case, his reputation rose still higher.

Kojirō's attitude toward Magoshirō remained charitable, but whenever someone made favorable mention of Musashi's growing fame in Edo and Kyoto, he was quick to set him straight.

"Musashi?" he would say with disdain. "Oh, he's been crafty enough to make something of a name for himself. He talks about his Two-Sword Style, I'm told. He's always had a certain natural ability. I doubt whether there's anybody in Kyoto or Osaka who could defeat him." He always made it appear that he was restraining himself from saying more.

An experienced warrior visiting Kojirō's house one day said, "I've never met the man, but people say this Miyamoto Musashi is the greatest swordsman since Kōizumi and Tsukahara, with the exception of Yagyū Sekishūsai, of course. Everybody seems to think that if he's not the greatest swordsman, he's at least reached the level of a master."

Kojirō laughed and the color rose in his face. "Well, people are blind," he said bitingly. "So I suppose some consider him a great man or an expert swordsman. That just goes to show you how far the Art of War has declined, with regard to both style and personal conduct. We live in an age when a clever publicity seeker can rule the roost, at least as far as ordinary people are concerned.

"Needless to say, I look at it differently. I saw Musashi trying to sell himself in Kyoto some years ago. He gave an exhibition of his brutality and cravenness in his bout with the Yoshioka School at Ichijōji. Cravenness is not a low enough word for the likes of him. All right, so he was outnumbered, but what did he do? He showed his back at the earliest possible moment. Considering his past and his overweening ambition, I see him as a man not worth spitting on.... Ha, ha—if a man who spends his life trying to learn the Art of War is an expert, then I suppose Musashi's an expert. But a master of the sword—no, not that."

He obviously took praise of Musashi as a personal affront, but his insistence on winning anyone and everyone over to his point of view was so vehement that even his staunchest admirers began to wonder. Eventually the word got around that there was a long-standing enmity between Musashi and Kojirō. Before long, rumors of a match were flying.

It was at Lord Tadatoshi's order that Kojirō had finally issued a challenge. In the several months since then, the entire Hosokawa fief had buzzed with speculation as to when the fight would be held and how it would turn out.

Iwama Kakubei, now well along in years, called on Kojirō morning and evening, whenever he could find the slightest excuse. On an evening early in the fourth month, when even the pink double-petal cherry blossoms had fallen, Kakubei walked through Kojirō's front garden, past bright red azaleas blooming in the shadows of ornamental rocks. He was shown to an inner room lit only by the failing light of the evening sun.

"Ah, Master Iwama, good to see you," said Kojirō, who was standing just outside, feeding the falcon on his fist.

"I have news for you," said Kakubei, still standing. "The clan council discussed the place for the bout today in his lordship's presence and reached a decision."

"Have a seat," said an attendant from the adjacent room.

With no more than a grunt of thanks, Kakubei sat down and continued: "A number of sites were suggested, among them Kikunonagahama and the bank of the Murasaki River, but they were all rejected because they were too small or too accessible to the public. We could put up bamboo fencing, of course, but even that wouldn't prevent the riverbank from being overrun by swarms of people looking for thrills."

"I see," replied Kojirō, still intently watching the falcon's eyes and beak.

Kakubei, expecting his report to be received more or less with bated breath, was crestfallen. A guest would not normally do such a thing, but Kakubei said, "Come inside. This is nothing to be talking about while you're standing out there."

"In a minute," Kojirō said casually. "I want to finish feeding the bird."

"Is that the falcon Lord Tadatoshi gave you after you went hunting together last fall?"

"Yes. Its name is Amayumi. The more I get used to it, the better I like it." He threw away the rest of the food and, winding up the red-tasseled cord attached to the bird's neck, said to the young attendant behind him, "Here, Tatsunosuke—put it back in its cage."

The bird was passed from fist to fist, and Tatsunosuke started across the spacious garden. Beyond the customary man-made hillock was a grove of pines, bordered on the other side by a fence. The compound lay along the Itatsu River; many other Hosokawa vassals lived in the vicinity.

"Forgive me for making you wait," said Kojirō.

"Think nothing of it. I'm not exactly an outsider. When I come here, it's almost like being at my son's house."

A maid of twenty or so came in and gracefully poured tea. With a glance at the guest, she invited him to have a cup.

Kakubei shook his head admiringly. "It's good to see you, Omitsu. You're always so pretty."

She blushed down to the collar of her kimono. "And you're always making fun of me," she replied before quickly slipping out of the room.

Kakubei said, "You say the more you get used to your falcon, the better you like it. What about Omitsu? Wouldn't it be better to have her at your side, rather than a bird of prey? I've been meaning to ask you about your intentions regarding her."

"Has she by any chance secretly visited your house at one time or another?" "I'll admit she did come to talk to me."

"Stupid woman! She hasn't said a word about it to me." He shot an angry glance at the white shoji.

"Don't let it upset you. There's no reason why she shouldn't come." He waited until he thought Kojirō's eyes had softened a little, then went on: "It's only natural for a woman to worry. I don't think she doubts your affection for her, but anybody in her position would worry about the future. I mean, what's to become of her?"

"I suppose she told you everything?"

"Why shouldn't she? It's the most ordinary thing in the world to happen between a man and a woman. One of these days you'll want to get married. You have this big house and lots of servants. Why not?"

"Can't you imagine what people would say if I married a girl I'd previously had in my house as a maid?"

"Does it really make any difference? You certainly can't throw her aside now. If she weren't a suitable bride for you, it might be awkward, but she's of good blood, isn't she? I'm told she's the niece of Ono Tadaaki."

"That's correct."

"And you met her when you went to Tadaaki's dōjō and opened his eyes to the sad state his school of swordsmanship was in."

"Yes. I'm not proud of it, but I can't keep it from someone as close to me as you are. I'd planned to tell you the whole story sooner or later.... As you say, it happened after my bout with Tadaaki. It was already dark when I started for home, and Omitsu—she was living with her uncle at the time—brought a small lantern and walked down Saikachi Slope with me. Without giving it a thought, I flirted with her a bit along the way, but she took me seriously. After Tadaaki disappeared, she came to see me and—"

Now it was Kakubei's turn to be embarrassed. He waved his hand to let his protégé know he had heard enough. Actually, he had not known until very recently that Kojirō had taken the girl in before leaving Edo for Kokura. He was surprised not only at his own naiveté but also at Kojirō's ability to attract a woman, have an affair with her and keep the whole thing secret.

"Leave everything to me," he said. "At the moment, it would be rather inappropriate for you to announce your marriage. First things first. It can be done after your bout." Like so many others, he was confident that final justification for Kojirō's fame and position would be forthcoming within a few days.

Remembering why he'd come, he went on: "As I said, the council has decided the location for the bout. Since one requirement was that it be within Lord Tadatoshi's domain, but somewhere that crowds can't get to easily, it was agreed that an island would be ideal. The island chosen is a small one called Funashima, between Shimonoseki and Moji."

He looked thoughtful for a minute, then said, "I wonder if it wouldn't be wise to look the terrain over before Musashi arrives. It might give you a certain advantage." His reasoning was that from a knowledge of the lay of the land, a swordsman would have an idea of how the fighting would proceed, how tightly to tie his sandals, how to make use of the terrain and the position of the sun. At the very least, Kojirō would have a sense of security, which would be impossible if he were entering the place for the first time.

He suggested they hire a fishing boat and go out to look at Funashima the next day.

Kojirō disagreed. "The whole point of the Art of War is to be quick to seize an opening. Even when a man takes precautions, it often happens that his opponent will have anticipated them and devised means of offsetting them. It's much better to approach the situation with an open mind and move with perfect freedom."

Seeing the logic of this argument, Kakubei made no more mention of going to Funashima.

Summoned by Kojirō, Omitsu served them sake, and the two men drank and chatted until late in the evening. From the relaxed way in which Kakubei sipped his sake, it was evident that he was pleased with life and felt that his efforts to assist Kojirō had been rewarded.

Rather like a proud father, he said, "I think it's all right to tell Omitsu. When this is over, we can invite her relatives and friends here for the marriage ceremony. It's a fine thing for you to be devoted to your sword, but you must also have a family if your name is to be carried on. When you're married, I'll feel I've done my duty by you."

Unlike the happy old retainer with many years of service, Kojirō showed no signs of drunkenness. But then he was prone to silence these days anyway. Once the bout had been decided on, Kakubei had suggested and Tadatoshi had agreed to release Kojirō from his duties. He had enjoyed the unaccustomed leisure at first, but as the day approached and more and more people came to call, he found himself forced to entertain them. Recently, times when he could rest had become few. Still, he was reluctant to shut himself away and have people turned back at the gate. If he did that, people would think he'd lost his composure.

The idea that came to him was to go out into the country every day, his falcon on his fist. In nice weather, hiking over field and mountain with only the bird for a companion did his spirit good.

When the falcon's alert azure eyes spotted a victim in the sky, Kojirō would release it. Then his own eyes, equally alert, would follow it as it rose and swooped down on its quarry. Until the feathers began to drift to earth, he remained breathless, transfixed, as though he himself were the falcon.

"Good! That's the way!" he exclaimed when the falcon made the kill. He had learned much from this bird of prey, and as a result of these hunting excursions, his face showed more confidence with the passage of each day.

Returning home in the evening, he was met by Omitsu's eyes, swollen from crying. It hurt him to observe her efforts to disguise this. To him, losing to Musashi was inconceivable. Nevertheless, the question of what would happen to her if he was killed crept into his mind.

So did the image of his dead mother, to whom he had given scarcely a thought for years. And each night as he was falling asleep, a vision of the falcon's azure eyes and the swollen eyes of Omitsu came to visit him, jumbled in an odd way with a fleeting memory of his mother's face.

Before the Thirteenth Day

Shimonoseki, Moji, the castle town of Kokura—during the past several days many travelers had come but few had left. The inns were all full, and horses were lined up side by side at the hitching posts outside.

The command issued by the castle said:

On the thirteenth day of this month, at eight o'clock in the morning, on Funashima in the Nagato Straits of Buzen, Sasaki Kojirō Ganryū, a samurai of this fief, will at his lordship's bidding fight a bout with Miyamoto Musashi Masana, a rōnin from the province of Mimasaka.

It is strictly forbidden for supporters of either swordsman to go to his aid or set forth on the water between the mainland and Funashima. Until ten o'clock on the morning of the thirteenth, no sightseeing vessels, passenger ships and fishing boats will be permitted to enter the straits. Fourth month [ 1612].

The announcement was posted conspicuously on bulletin boards at all major intersections, piers and gathering places.

"The thirteenth? That's the day after tomorrow, isn't it?"

"People from all over will want to see the bout, so they can go home and talk about it."

"Of course they will, but how's anybody going to see a fight taking place on an island two miles from shore?"

"Well, if you go to the top of Mount Kazashi, you can see the pine trees on Funashima. People'll come anyway, just to gawk at the boats and crowds in Buzen and Nagato."

"I hope the weather stays good."

Because of the restriction of shipping activities, boatmen who might otherwise have been turning a tidy profit were doing poorly. Travelers and townsmen, however, took it in their stride, busily searching out vantage points from which they might catch a glimpse of the excitement on Funashima.

About noon on the eleventh, a woman giving breast to her baby was pacing back and forth in front of a "one-tray" eatery where the road from Moji entered Kokura.

The baby, tired from traveling, would not stop crying. "Sleepy? Take a little nap now. There, there. Sleep, sleep." Akemi patted her foot rhythmically on the ground. She wore no makeup. With a baby to nurse, her life had changed considerably, but there was nothing in her present circumstances that she regretted.

Matahachi came out of the shop, wearing a sleeveless kimono of subdued color. The only hint of the days when he had aspired to becoming a priest was the bandanna on his head, hiding the once shaven head.

"Oh, my, what's this?" he said. "Still crying? You should be sleeping. Go on, Akemi. I'll take him while you eat. Eat a lot, so you'll have plenty of milk." Taking the child in his arms, he began crooning a soft lullaby.

"Well, this is a surprise!" came a voice from behind him.

"Huh?" Matahachi stared at the man, unable to place him.

"I'm Ichinomiya Gempachi. We met several years ago at the pine forest near Gojō Avenue in Kyoto. I guess you don't remember me." When Matahachi continued to stare blankly at him, Gempachi said, "You were going around calling yourself Sasaki Kojirō."

"Oh!" Matahachi gasped loudly. "The monk with the staff . . ."

"That's right. Good to see you again."

Matahachi hastened to bow, which awakened the baby. "Now, let's not start crying again," he pleaded.

"I wonder," said Gempachi, "if you could tell me where Kojirō's house is. I understand he lives here in Kokura."

"Sorry, I have no idea. I just got here myself."

Two samurais' attendants emerged from the shop, and one said to Gempachi, "If you're looking for Kojirō's house, it's right by the Itatsu River. We'll show you the way, if you like."

"Very kind of you. Good-bye, Matahachi. See you again." The samurai walked off, and Gempachi fell in step with them.

Matahachi, noticing the dirt and grime clinging to the man's clothes, thought: "I wonder if he's come all the way from Kōzuke." He was deeply impressed that news of the bout had spread to such faraway places. Then the memory of the encounter with Gempachi flowed through his mind, and he shuddered. How worthless, how shallow, how shameless he'd been in those days! To think he had actually been brazen enough to try to pass off the certificate from the Chūjō School as his own, to impersonate ... Still, that he could see how churlish he had been was a hopeful sign. At least he'd changed since then. "I suppose," he thought, "even a stupid fool like me can improve if he stays awake and tries."

Hearing the baby crying again, Akemi bolted her meal and rushed outdoors. "Sorry," she said. "I'll take him now."

Having placed the baby on Akemi's back, Matahachi hung a candy peddler's box from his shoulder and prepared to forge on. A number of passersby looked enviously at this poor, but apparently happy, couple.

An elderly, genteel-looking woman approached and said, "What a lovely baby! How old is he? Oh, look, he's laughing." As if on command, the manservant accompanying her stooped and peered at the baby's face.

They all walked together for a way. Then, as Matahachi and Akemi started to turn into a side street to look for an inn, the woman said, "Oh, are you going that way?" She bade them good-bye, and almost as an afterthought, asked, "You seem to be travelers, too, but would you happen to know where Sasaki Kojirō's house is?"

Matahachi imparted the information he had just heard from the two attendants. As he watched her go off, he mumbled gloomily, "I wonder what my mother's doing these days." Now that he had a child of his own, he had begun to appreciate her feelings.

"Come on, let's go," said Akemi.

Matahachi stood and stared vacantly at the old woman. She was about the same age as Osugi.

Kojirō's house was full of guests.

"It's a great opportunity for him."

"Yes, this'll make his reputation, once and for all."

"He'll be known everywhere."

"True enough, but we mustn't forget who his opponent is. Ganryū will have to be very careful."

Many had arrived the previous night, and callers spilled out into the great entrance hall, the side entrances, the outside corridors. Some hailed from Kyoto or Osaka, others from western Honshu, one from the village of Jōkyōji in distant Echizen. Since there weren't enough servants in the household, Kakubei had sent some of his to help out. Samurai who were studying under Kojirō came and went, their faces eager with anticipation.

All these friends, all these disciples, had one thing in common: whether they knew Musashi or not, he was the enemy. Particularly virulent in their hatred were the provincial samurai who had at one time or another studied the methods of the Yoshioka School. The humiliation of the defeat at Ichijōji gnawed at their minds and hearts. Moreover, the single-minded determination with which Musashi had pursued his career was such that he had made himself many enemies. Kojirō's students despised him as a matter of course.

A young samurai led a recent arrival from the entrance hall into the crowded parlor and announced, "This man has made the trip from Kōzuke."

The man said, "My name is Ichinomiya Gempachi," and modestly took his place among them.

A murmur of admiration and respect went around the room, for Kōzuke lay a thousand miles to the northeast. Gempachi asked that a talisman he had brought from Mount Hakuun be placed on the household altar, and there were more murmurs of approval.

"The weather will be good on the thirteenth," remarked one man, glancing out under the eaves at the flaming evening sun. "Today's the eleventh, tomorrow the twelfth, the next day . . ."

Addressing Gempachi, one guest said, "I think your coming so far to say a prayer for Kojirō's success is quite remarkable. Do you have some connection with him?"

"I'm a retainer of the House of Kusanagi in Shimonida. My late master, Kusanagi Tenki, was the nephew of Kanemaki Jisai. Tenki knew Kojirō when Kojirō was still a young boy."

"I'd heard Kojirō studied under Jisai."

"That's true. Kojirō came from the same school as Itō Ittōsai. I've heard Ittōsai say many times that Kojirō was a brilliant fighter." He went on to recount how Kojirō had chosen to reject Jisai's certificate and create a style of his own. He told, too, of how tenacious Kojirō had been, even as a child. Meeting eager questions with detailed answers, Gempachi talked on and on.

"Isn't Ganryū
Sensei
here?" asked a young attendant, picking his way through the crowd. Not seeing him, he went from room to room. He was grumbling to himself by the time he came upon Omitsu, who was cleaning Kojirō's room. "If you're looking for the master," she said, "you'll find him at the falcon cage."

Kojirō was inside the cage, looking intently into Amayumi's eyes. He had fed the bird, brushed off loose feathers, held it for a time on his fist and was now patting it affectionately.

"Sensei."

"Yes?"

"There's a woman who says she's come from Iwakuni to visit you. She said you'd know her when you see her."

"Hmm. It may be my mother's younger sister."

"Which room should I show her to?"

"I don't want to see her. I don't want to see anybody.... Oh, I suppose I have to. She is my aunt. Take her to my room."

The man left and Kojirō called out the door, "Tatsunosuke."

"Yes, sir." Tatsunosuke came inside the cage and knelt on one knee behind Kojirō. A student who lived at his house, he was seldom far from his master's side.

"Not long to wait now, is there?" said Kojirō.

"No, sir."

"Tomorrow I'll go to the castle and pay my respects to Lord Tadatoshi. I

haven't seen him recently. After that, I want to spend a quiet night."

"There are all those guests. Why don't you refuse to see them, so you can

have a good rest?"

"That's what I intend to do."

"There are so many people around here, you could be defeated by your own supporters."

"Don't talk like that. They've come from near and far.... Whether I win or not depends on what happens at the appointed time. It's not entirely a matter of fate, but then again ... That's the way with warriors—sometimes win, sometimes lose. If Ganryū dies, you'll find two last testaments in my writing cabinet. Give one of them to Kakubei and the other to Omitsu."

"You've written a will?"

"Yes. It's only proper for a samurai to take that precaution. One other thing. On the day of the fight, I'm allowed one attendant. I want you to go with me. Will you come?"

"It's an honor I don't deserve."

"Amayumi too." He looked at the falcon. "It'll be a comfort to me on the boat trip."

"I understand perfectly."

"Good. I'll see my aunt now."

He found her sitting in his room. Outside, the evening clouds had blackened, like newly forged steel that has just cooled off. The white light of a candle brightened the room.

"Thank you for coming," he said as he seated himself with a great show of reverence. After his mother's death, his aunt had reared him. Unlike his mother, she had not spoiled him in the least. Conscious of her duty to her elder sister, she had striven single-mindedly to make him a worthy successor to the Sasaki name and an outstanding man in his own right. Of all his kinsmen, she was the one who had paid closest attention to his career and his future.

"Kojirō," she began solemnly, "I understand you're about to face one of the decisive moments of your life. Everybody back home is talking about it, and I felt I had to see you, one more time at least. I'm happy to see you've come as far as you have." She was silently comparing the dignified, well-to-do samurai in front of her with the youth who had left home with nothing but a sword.

Head still lowered, Kojirō replied, "It's been ten years. I hope you'll forgive me for not keeping in touch with you. I don't know whether people consider me a success or not, but I have by no means achieved all I am determined to achieve. That's why I haven't written."

"It doesn't matter. I hear news of you all the time."

"Even in Iwakuni?"

"Oh, indeed. Everyone there is for you. If you were to lose to Musashi, the whole Sasaki family—the whole province—would be disgraced. Lord Katayama Hisayasu of Hōki, who's staying as a guest in the Kikkawa fief, is planning to bring a large group of Iwakuni samurai to see the bout."

"Is he?"

"Yes. They'll be terribly disappointed, I suppose, since no boats will be allowed out.... Oh, I'm forgetting. Here, I brought this for you." She opened a small bundle and took out a folded underrobe. It was made of white cotton; on it were written the names of the god of war and a protective goddess worshiped by warriors. A Sanskrit good-luck charm had been embroidered on both sleeves by a hundred of Kojirō's female supporters.

He thanked her and reverently held the garment up before his forehead. Then he said, "You must be tired from your trip. You can stay here in this room and go to bed whenever you wish. Now, if you'll excuse me."

He left her and went to sit in another room, to which guests soon came offering him a variety of gifts—a sacred charm from the Hachiman Shrine on Mount Otoko, a coat of mail, an enormous sea bream, a barrel of sake. Before long, there was hardly a place to sit down.

While these well-wishers were sincere in their prayers for his victory, it was also true that eight out of ten of them, not doubting that he would win, were currying favor in the hope of advancing their own ambitions later on.

"What if I were a rōnin?" thought Kojirō. Though the sycophancy depressed him, he took satisfaction from the fact that it was he and no one else who had caused his supporters to trust him and believe in him.

"I must win. I must, I must."