Musashi: Bushido Code (20 page)

"Unh. Do you think they really enjoy it? I wonder."

"Sure; this is their idea of a good time."

"I don't see how, when they carry on like that."

"Look, why don't we go someplace quieter? I've had enough of this too." Seijūrō, looking much relieved, quickly assented. "I'd like to go to the place we were at last night."

"You mean the Yomogi?"

"Yes."

"That's much nicer. I thought all along you wanted to go there, but it would've been a waste of money to take along this bunch of oafs. That's why I steered them here—it's cheap."

"Let's sneak out, then. Ryōhei can take care of the rest."

"Just pretend you're going to the toilet. I'll come along in a few minutes."
^,
Seijūrō skillfully disappeared. No one noticed.

Outside a house not far away, a woman stood on tiptoe, trying to hang a lantern back on its nail. The wind had blown out the candle, and she had taken it down to relight it. Her back was stretched out under the eaves, and her recently washed hair fell loosely around her face. Strands of hair and the shadows from the lantern made lightly shifting patterns on her outstretched arms. A hint of plum blossoms floated on the evening breeze.

"Okō! Shall I hang it for you?"

"Oh, it's the Young Master," she said with surprise.

"Wait a minute." When the man came forward, she saw that it was not Seijūrō but Tōji.

"Will that do?" he asked.

"Yes, that's fine. Thank you."

But Tōji squinted at the lantern, decided it was crooked, and rehung it. It was amazing to Okō how some men, who would flatly refuse to lend a hand in their own homes, could be so helpful and considerate when visiting a place like hers. Often they would open or close the windows for themselves, get out their own cushions, and do a dozen other little chores they'd never dream of doing under their own roofs.

Tōji, pretending not to have heard, showed his master indoors.

Seijūrō, as soon as he was seated, said, "It's awfully quiet."

"I'll open the door to the veranda," said Tōji.

Below the narrow veranda rippled the waters of the Takase River. To the south, beyond the small bridge at Sanjō Avenue, lay the broad compound of the Zuisenin, the dark expanse of Teramachi—the "Town of Temples"—and a field of miscanthus. This was near Kayahara, where Toyotomi Hideyoshi's troops had slain the wife, concubines and children of his nephew, the murderous regent Hidetsugu, an event still fresh in many people's memory.

Tōji was getting nervous. "It's still too quiet. Where are the women hiding? They don't seem to have any other customers tonight." He fidgeted a bit. "I wonder what's taking Okō so long. She hasn't even brought us our tea." When his impatience made him so jumpy he could no longer sit still, he got up to go see why the tea hadn't been served.

As he stepped out onto the veranda, he nearly collided with Akemi, who was carrying a gold-lacquered tray. The little bell in her obi tinkled as she exclaimed, "Be careful! You'll make me spill the tea!"

"Why are you so late with it? The Young Master's here; I thought you liked him."

"See, I've spilled some. It's your fault. Go fetch me a rag."

"Ha! Pretty sassy, aren't you? Where's Okō?"

"Putting on her makeup, of course."

"You mean she's not finished yet?"

"Well, we were busy during the daytime."

"Daytime? Who came during the daytime?"

"That's none of your business. Please let me by."

He stepped aside and Akemi entered the room and greeted the guest. "Good evening. It was good of you to come."

Seijūrō, feigning nonchalance, looked aside and said, "Oh, it's you, Akemi. Thanks for last night." He was embarrassed.

From the tray she took a jar that looked like an incense burner and placed on it a pipe with a ceramic mouthpiece and bowl.

"Would you like a smoke?" she asked politely.

"I thought tobacco was recently banned."

"It was, but everybody still smokes anyway."

"All right, I'll have some."

"I'll light it for you."

She took a pinch of tobacco from a pretty little mother-of-pearl box and stuffed it into the tiny bowl with her dainty fingers. Then she put the pipe to his mouth. Seijūrō, not being in the habit of smoking, handled it rather awkwardly.

"Hmm, bitter, isn't it?" he said. Akemi giggled. "Where did Tōji go?" "He's probably in Mother's room."

"He seems fond of Okō. At least, it looks that way to me. I suspect he comes here without me sometimes. Does he?" Akemi laughed but did not answer. "What's funny about that? I think your mother rather likes him too."

"I really wouldn't know!"

"Oh, I'm sure of it! Absolutely sure! It's a cozy arrangement, isn't it? Two happy couples—your mother and Tōji, you and me."

Looking as innocent as he could, he put his hand on top of Akemi's, which was resting on her knee. Primly, she brushed it away, but this only made Seijūrō bolder. As she started to rise, he put his arm around her thin waist and drew her to him.

"You don't have to run away," he said. "I'm not going to hurt you."

"Let go of me!" she protested.

"All right, but only if you sit down again."

"The sake . . . I'll just go and get some."

"I don't want any."

"But if I don't bring it, Mother'll get angry."

"Your mother's in the other room, having a nice chat with Tōji"

He tried to rub his cheek against her lowered face, but she turned her head away and called frantically for help. "Mother!
Mother!"
He released her and she flew toward the back of the house.

Seijūrō was becoming frustrated. He was lonely but didn't really want to force himself on the girl. Not knowing what to do with himself, he grunted out loud, "I'm going home," and started tramping down the outer corridor, his face growing more crimson with each step.

"Young Master, where are you going? You're not leaving, are you?" Seemingly from out of nowhere, Okō appeared behind him and rushed down the hall. As she put her arm about him, he noticed that her hair was in place and her makeup was in order. She summoned Tōji to the rescue, and together they persuaded Seijūrō to go back and sit down. Okō brought sake and tried to cheer him up, then Tōji led Akemi back into the room. When the girl saw how crestfallen Seijūrō was, she flashed a smile at him.

"Akemi, pour the Young Master some sake."

"Yes, Mother," she said obediently.

"You see how she is, don't you?" said Okō. "Why does she always want to act like a child?"

"That's her charm—she's young," said Tōji, sliding his cushion up closer to the table.

"But she's already twenty-one."

"Twenty-one? I didn't think she was that old. She's so small she looks about sixteen or seventeen!"

Akemi, suddenly as full of life as a minnow, said, "Really? That makes me happy, because I'd like to be sixteen all my life. Something wonderful happened to me when I was sixteen."

"What?"

"Oh," she said, clasping her hands to her breast. "I can't tell anybody about it, but it happened. When I was sixteen. Do you know what province I was in then? That was the year of the Battle of Sekigahara."

With a menacing look, Okō said, "Chatterbox! Stop boring us with your talk. Go and get your shamisen."

Pouting slightly, Akemi stood up and went for her instrument. When she returned, she started playing and singing a song, more intent, it seemed, upon amusing herself than upon pleasing the guests.

Tonight then,

If it's to be cloudy,

Let it be cloudy,

Hiding the moon

I can see only through my tears.

Breaking off, she said, "Do you understand, Tōji?" "I'm not sure. Sing some more."

Even in the darkest night

I do not lose my way.

But oh! How you fascinate me!

"She is twenty-one, after all," said Tōji.

Seijūrō, who had been sitting silently with his forehead resting on his hand, came to life and said, "Akemi, let's have a cup of sake together."

He handed her the cup and filled it from the sake warmer. She drank it down without flinching and briskly handed him back the cup to drink from.

Somewhat surprised, Seijūrō said, "You know how to drink, don't you."

Finishing off his draft, he offered her another, which she accepted and downed with alacrity. Apparently dissatisfied with the cup's size, she took out a larger one and for the next half hour matched him drink for drink.

Seijūrō marveled. There she was, looking like a sixteen-year-old girl, with lips that had never been kissed and an eye that shrank with shyness, and yet she was putting away her sake like a man. In that tiny body, where did it all go?

"You may as well give up now," Okō said to Seijūrō. "For some reason the child can drink all night without getting drunk. The best thing to do is to let her play the shamisen."

"But this is fun!" said Seijūrō, now thoroughly enjoying himself.

Sensing something strange in his voice, Tōji asked, "Are you all right? Sure you haven't had too much?"

"It doesn't matter. Say, Tōji, I may not go home tonight!"

"That's all right too," replied Tōji. "You can stay as many nights as you wish—can't he, Akemi?"

Tōji winked at Okō, then led her off to another room, where he began whispering rapidly. He told Okō that with the Young Master in such high spirits, he would certainly want to sleep with Akemi, and that there would be trouble if Akemi refused; but that, of course, a mother's feelings were the most important thing of all in cases like this—or in other words, how much?

"Well?" Tōji demanded abruptly.

Okō put her finger to her thickly powdered cheek and thought.

"Make up your mind!" urged Tōji. Drawing closer to her, he said, "It's not a bad match, you know. He's a famous teacher of the martial arts, and his family has lots of money. His father had more disciples than anybody else in the country. What's more, he's not married yet. Any way you look at it, it's an attractive offer."

"Well, I think so too, but—"

"But nothing. It's settled! We'll both spend the night."

There was no light in the room, and Tōji casually rested his hand on Okō's shoulder. At just that moment, there was a loud noise in the next room back. "What was that?" asked Tōji. "Do you have other customers?"

Okō nodded silently, then put her moist lips to his ear and whispered, "Later." Trying to appear casual, the two went back to Seijūrō's room, only to find him alone and sound asleep.

Tōji, taking the adjacent room, stretched out on the pallet. He lay there, drumming his fingers on the tatami, waiting for Okō. She failed to appear. Eventually his eyelids grew heavy and he drifted off to sleep. He woke up quite late the next morning with a resentful look on his face.

Seijūrō had already arisen and was again drinking in the room overlooking the river. Both Okō and Akemi looked bright and cheerful, as though they'd forgotten about the night before. They were coaxing Seijūrō into some sort of promise.

"Then you'll take us?"

"All right, we'll go. Put together some box lunches and bring some sake."

They were talking about the Okuni Kabuki, which was being performed on the riverbank at Shijō Avenue. This was a new kind of dance with words and music, the current rage in the capital. It had been invented by a shrine maiden named Okuni at the Izumo Shrine, and its popularity had already inspired many imitations. In the busy area along the river, there were rows of stages where troupes of women performers competed to attract audiences, each trying to achieve a degree of individuality by adding special provincial dances and songs to their repertoire. The actresses, for the most part, had started out as women of the night; now that they had taken to the stage, however, they were summoned to perform in some of the greatest mansions in the capital. Many of them took masculine names, dressed in men's clothing, and put on stirring performances as valiant warriors.

Seijūrō sat staring out the door. Beneath the small bridge at Sanjō Avenue, women were bleaching cloth in the river; men on horseback were passing back and forth over the bridge.

"Aren't those two ready yet?" he asked irritably. It was already past noon. Sluggish from drink and tired of waiting, he was no longer in the mood for Kabuki.

Tōji, still smarting from the night before, was not his usual ebullient self. "It's fun to take women out," he grumbled, "but why is it that just when you're ready to leave, they suddenly start worrying about whether their hair is just right or their obi straight? What a nuisance!"

Seijūrō's thoughts turned to his school. He seemed to hear the sound of wooden swords and the clack of lance handles. What were his students saying about his absence? No doubt his younger brother, Denshichirō, was clicking his tongue in disapproval.

"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.