Musashi: Bushido Code (15 page)

She wandered in circles round the foot of the tree, looking up to Takezō often, but unable to see him because of the storm. Without thinking, she called his name, but there was no answer. A suspicion arose in her mind that he might regard her as a member of the Hon'iden family, or as just another hostile villager.

"If he stays out in this rain," she thought in despair, "he's sure to die before morning. Oh, isn't there anyone in the world who can save him?"

She started running at full speed, partially propelled by the raging wind. Behind the main temple, the kitchen building and the priests' quarters were tightly shuttered. Water overflowing from the roof gutters slashed deep gullies in the ground as it rushed downhill.

"Takuan!" she screamed. She'd reached the door of his room, and began banging on it with all her strength.

"Who is it?" came his voice from within.

"It's me—Otsū!"

"What are you doing still out there?" He quickly opened the door and looked at her in astonishment. Despite the building's long eaves, rain showered in on him. "Come inside quick!" he exclaimed, making a grab for her arm, but she pulled back.

"No. I came to ask a favor, not to dry off. I beg you, Takuan, take him down from that tree!"

"What? I'll do no such thing!" he said adamantly.

"Oh, please, Takuan, you must. I'd be grateful to you forever." She fell on her knees in the mud and lifted her hands in supplication. "It doesn't matter about me, but you must help him! Please! You can't just let him die—you can't!"

The sound of the torrent nearly blotted out her tearful voice. With her hands still raised before her, she looked like a Buddhist practicing austerities by standing under a freezing waterfall.

"I bow before you, Takuan. I beg you. I'll do anything you ask, but please save him!"

Takuan was silent. His eyes were tightly closed, like the doors to the shrine where a secret Buddha is kept. Heaving a deep sigh, he opened them and breathed fire.

"Go to bed! This minute! You're weak to begin with, and being out in this weather is suicidal."

"Oh, please, please," she pleaded, reaching for the door.

"I'm going to bed. I advise you to do the same." His voice was like ice. The door slammed shut.

Still, she would not give up. She crawled under the house till she reached the spot she guessed was beneath where he slept. She called up to him:

"Please! Takuan, it's the most important thing in the world to me! Takuan, can you hear me? Answer me, please! You're a monster! A heartless, cold-blooded fiend!"

For a while, the monk listened patiently without replying, but she was making it impossible for him to sleep. Finally, in a fit of temper, he jumped out of bed, shouting, "Help! Thief! There's a thief under my floor. Catch him!"

Otsū scrambled out into the storm again and retired in defeat. But she was not finished yet.

The Rock and the Tree

By early morning, wind and rain had washed spring away without a trace. A throbbing sun beat down furiously and few villagers walked around without a wide-brimmed hat for protection.

Osugi made her way uphill to the temple, arriving at Takuan's door thirsty and breathless. Beads of sweat emerged from her hairline, converged in rivulets and coursed straight down her righteous nose. She took no notice of this, for she was brimming over with curiosity about her victim's fate.

"Takuan," she called, "did Takezō survive the storm?"

The monk appeared on his veranda. "Oh, it's you. Terrific downpour, wasn't it?"

"Yes." She smiled crookedly. "It was murderous."

"I'm sure you know, however, that it isn't very difficult to live through a night or two of even the heaviest rain. The human body can take a lot of buffeting. It's the sun that's really deadly."

"You don't mean he's still alive?" said Osugi in disbelief, at once turning her wrinkled face toward the old cryptomeria. Her needlelike eyes squinted in the glare. She raised a hand to shield them and in a moment relaxed a bit. "He's just drooping up there like a wet rag," she said with renewed hope. "He can't have any life left in him, he can't."

"I don't see any crows picking at his face yet." Takuan smiled. "I think that means he's still breathing."

"Thank you for telling me. A man of learning like you must surely know more than I do about such matters." She craned her neck and peered around him into the building. "I don't see my daughter-in-law anywhere. Would you please call her for me?"

"Your daughter-in-law? I don't believe I've ever met her. In any case, I don't know her name. How can I call her?"

"Call her, I say!" Osugi repeated impatiently.

"Who on earth are you talking about?"

"Why, Otsū, of course!"

"Otsū! Why do you call her your daughter-in-law? She hasn't entered the Hon'iden family, has she?"

"No, not yet, but I plan to take her in very soon as Matahachi's bride." "That's hard to imagine. How can she marry someone when he's not around?"

Osugi became more indignant. "Look, you vagabond! This has nothing to do with you! Just tell me where Otsū is!"

"I imagine she's still in bed."

"Oh, yes, I should've thought of that," the old woman muttered, half to herself. "I did tell her to watch Takezō nights, so she must become pretty tired by daybreak. Incidentally," she said accusingly, "aren't you supposed to be watching him during the day?"

Without waiting for an answer, she did an about-face and marched under the tree. There she stared upward for a long time, as if in a trance. When it finally broke, she plodded off toward the village, mulberry stick in hand.

Takuan returned to his room, where he stayed until evening.

Otsū's room was not far from his, in the same building. Her door was also closed all day except when opened by the acolyte, who several times brought her medicine or an earthenware pot full of thick rice gruel. When they had found her half dead in the rain the night before, they'd had to drag her in kicking and screaming and force her to swallow some tea. The priest had then given her a severe scolding while she sat mutely propped against a wall. By morning she had a high fever and was hardly able to lift her head to drink the gruel.

Night fell, and in sharp contrast to the previous evening, a bright moon shone like a clearly cut hole in the sky. When everyone else was sound asleep, Takuan put down the book he was reading, slipped into his wooden clogs and went out into the yard.

"Takezō!" he called.

High above him a branch shook and glistening dewdrops fell.

"Poor boy, I guess he doesn't have the strength to reply," Takuan said to himself. "Takezō! Takezō!"

"What do you want, you bastard of a monk?" came the ferocious response.

Takuan was seldom taken off guard, but he could not conceal his surprise. "You certainly howl loudly for a man at death's door. Sure you're not really a fish or some kind of sea monster? At this rate you ought to last another five or six days. By the way, how's your stomach? Empty enough for you?"

"Forget the small talk, Takuan. Just cut my head off and get it over with."

"Oh, no! Not so fast! One has to be careful about things like that. If I cut your head off right now, it'd probably fly down and try to bite me." Takuan's voice trailed off and he stared at the sky. "What a beautiful moon! You're lucky to be able to view it from such an excellent vantage point."

"Okay, just watch me, you filthy mongrel of a monk! I'll show you what I can do if I put my mind to it!" With every ounce of strength in him, Takezō then began to shake himself violently, flinging his weight up and down and nearly breaking off the branch he was bound to. Bark and leaves rained down on the man below, who remained unruffled but perhaps a bit affectedly nonchalant.

The monk calmly brushed his shoulders clean, and when he was finished he looked up again. "That's the spirit, Takezō! It's good to get as angry as you are now. Go ahead! Feel your strength to the fullest, show you're a real man, show us what you're made of! People these days think it's a sign of wisdom and character to be able to control their anger, but I say they're foolish. I hate seeing the young being so restrained, so proper. They have more spirit than their elders and they should show it. Don't hold back, Takezō! The madder you get, the better!"

"Just wait, Takuan, just wait! If I have to chew through this rope with my bare teeth, I will, just to get my hands on you and tear you limb from limb!"

"Is that a promise or a threat? If you really think you can do it, I'll stay down here and wait. Are you sure you can keep it up without killing yourself before the rope breaks?"

"Shut up!" Takezō screamed hoarsely.

"Say, Takez
^ō
, you really are strong! The whole tree is swaying. But I don't notice the earth shaking, sorry to say. You know, the trouble with you is that, in reality, you're weak. Your kind of anger is nothing more than personal malice. A real man's anger is an expression of moral indignation. Anger over petty emotional trifles is for women, not men."

"It won't be long now," he threatened. "I'll go straight for the neck!"

Takezō struggled on, but the thick rope showed no sign of weakening. Takuan looked on for a time, then offered some friendly advice. "Why don't you cut that out, Takezō—you're getting nowhere. You'll just wear yourself out, and what good is that going to do you? Squirm and wriggle all you like, you couldn't break a single branch of this tree, much less make a dent in the universe."

Takezō gave out a mighty groan. His tantrum was over. He realized the monk was right.

"I daresay all that strength would be put to better use working for the good of the country. You really should try doing something for others, Takezō, although it is a little late to start now. If you'd just tried, you'd have had a chance at moving the gods or even the universe, not to mention plain, everyday people." Takuan's voice took on a slightly pontifical tone. "It's a pity, a great pity! Though you were born human, you're more like an animal, no better than a boar or wolf. How sad it is that a handsome young man like you has to meet his end here, without ever having become truly human! What a waste!"

"You call yourself human?" Takezō spat.

"Listen, you barbarian! All along you've had too much confidence in your own brute strength, thinking you didn't have a match in the world. But look where you are now!"

"I've got nothing to be ashamed of. It wasn't a fair fight."

"In the long run, Takezō, it doesn't make any difference. You were outwitted and outtalked instead of being out-pummeled. When you've lost, you've lost. And whether you like it or not, I'm sitting on this rock and you're lying up there helpless. Can't you see the difference between you and me!"

"Yeah. You fight dirty. You're a liar and a coward!"

"It would have been crazy of me to try to take you by force. You're too strong physically. A human being doesn't have much chance wrestling a tiger. Luckily, he rarely has to, being the more intelligent of the two. Not many people would argue with the fact that tigers are inferior to humans."

Takezō gave no indication that he was still listening.

"It's the same with your so-called courage. Your conduct up till now gives no evidence that it's anything more than animal courage, the kind that has no respect for human values and life. That's not the kind of courage that makes a samurai. True courage knows fear. It knows how to fear that which should be feared. Honest people value life passionately, they hang on to it like a precious jewel. And they pick the right time and place to surrender it, to die with dignity."

Still no answer.

"That's what I meant when I said it's a pity about you. You were born with physical strength and fortitude, but you lack both knowledge and wisdom. While you managed to master a few of the more unfortunate features of the Way of the Samurai, you made no effort to acquire learning or virtue. People talk about combining the Way of Learning with the Way of the Samurai, but when properly combined, they aren't two—they're one. Only one Way, Takezō."

The tree was as silent as the rock on which Takuan sat. The darkness, too, was still. After several moments, Takuan rose slowly and deliberately. "Think about it one more night, Takezō. After you do, I'll cut off your head for you." He started walking away, taking long, thoughtful strides, his head bowed. He hadn't gone more than twenty paces when Takezō's voice rang out urgently.

"Wait!"

Takuan turned and called back, "What do you want now?"

"Come back."

"Mm. Don't tell me you want to hear more? Could it be that at last you're beginning to think?"

"Takuan! Save me!" Takezō's cry for help was loud and plaintive. The branch began to tremble, as though it, as though the whole tree, were weeping.

"I want to be a better man. I realize now how important it is, what a privilege it is to be born human. I'm almost dead, but I understand what it means to be alive. And now that I know, my whole life will consist of being tied to this tree! I can't undo what I've done."

"You're finally coming to your senses. For the first time in your life, you're talking like a human being."

"I don't want to die," Takezō cried. "I want to live. I want to go out, try again, do everything right this time." His body convulsed with his sobbing. "Takuan . . . please! Help me . . . help me!"

The monk shook his head. "Sorry, Takezō. It's out of my hands. It's the law of nature. You can't do things over again. That's life. Everything in it is for keeps. Everything! You can't put your head back on after the enemy's cut it off. That's the way it is. Of course, I feel sorry for you, but I can't undo that rope, because it wasn't me who tied it. It was you. All I can do is give you some advice. Face death bravely and quietly. Say a prayer and hope someone bothers to listen. And for the sake of your ancestors, Takezō, have the decency to die with a peaceful look on your face!"

The clatter of Takuan's sandals faded into the distance. He was gone, and Takezō cried out no more. Following the spirit of the monk's advice, he shut the eyes that had just experienced a great awakening and forgot everything. He forgot about living and about dying, and under the myriad tiny stars lay perfectly still as the night breeze sighed through the tree. He was cold, very cold.

After a while, he sensed that someone was at the base of the tree. Whoever it was was clutching the broad trunk and trying frantically but not very adroitly to climb up to the lowest branch. Takezō could hear the climber slipping downward after almost every upward advance. He could also hear chips of bark falling to the ground and was sure that the hands were being skinned much worse than the tree was. But the climber kept at it doggedly, digging into the tree again and again until finally the first branch was within reach. Then the form rose with relative ease to where Takezō, barely distinguishable from the branch he was stretched on, lay depleted of every ounce of strength. A panting voice whispered his name.

With great difficulty he opened his eyes and found himself face to face with a veritable skeleton; only the eyes were alive and vibrant. The face spoke. "It's me!" it said with childlike simplicity.

"Otsū?"

"Yes, me. Oh, Takezō, let's run away! I heard you scream out that you wanted with all your heart to live."

"Run away? You'll untie me, set me free?"

"Yes. I can't stand this village anymore either. If I stay here—oh, I don't even want to think about it. I have my reasons. I just want to get out of this stupid, cruel place. I'll help you, Takezō! We can help each other." Otsū was already wearing traveling clothes, and all her worldly possessions hung from her shoulder in a small fabric bag.

"Quick, cut the rope! What are you waiting for? Cut it!"

"It won't take a minute."

She unsheathed a small dagger and in no time severed the captive's bonds. Several minutes passed before the tingling in his limbs eased and he could flex his muscles. She tried to support his entire weight, with the result that when he slipped, she went down with him. The two bodies clung to each other, bounced off a limb, twisted in the air and crashed to the ground.

Takezō stood up. Dazed from the thirty-foot fall and numbingly weak, he nevertheless planted his feet firmly on the earth. Otsū writhed in pain on her hands and knees.

"O-o-h-h," she moaned.

Putting his arms around her, he helped her up.

"Do you think you broke something?"

"I have no idea, but I think I can walk."

"We had all those branches to break the fall, so you're probably not too badly hurt."