Pagoda, Skull & Samurai Read online

  Unable to fathom her husband's true feelings, Okichi said, "I don't know what the Abbot told you, but I can't make the slightest sense out of all this. What an unpleasant thing to say! What do you mean by giving half the job to that blockhead? It doesn't square with your usual temperament. If you're to give something up, you might as well give the whole thing up entirely. When it was yours by right from the start, why should you ask for unneeded help? You're not the kind of sly man who would use a helper in dispatching a single enemy. Everyone knows, and you yourself always claim, that your heart is clean, clear, and spotless. How did you come up with such a fuzzy decision? It sounds like awfully weak thinking, even to a woman. I will not commend you. No, no, I cannot commend you. Who is your opponent but Nossori?—who owes you a debt of gratitude to begin with. He has some nerve, trying to steal your job in such a sneaky manner. If you ask me, I'd say you should chastise him so severely that he can't make another sound. Why should you indulge him so much by taking him on as a partner? Is being indulgent the only commendable way? Is being meek the only sign of an honorable man? I won't accept that. If you like, I'll run over to Nossori's house to make him give up the job and prostrate himself on the floor in apology."

  Okichi was a clever woman driven by love of her husband, but Genta merely sneered at her now. "How could you possibly understand? All I ask is that you accept my decision, no matter what."

  <12>

  Brusquely silenced in effect, Okichi arched her eyebrows and appeared anxious to retort. But experience had taught her the futility of contradicting an irascible Genta, who was twice as headstrong as she. Though she felt resentful toward her husband for not confiding his thoughts to her, she sensibly made a quick decision to retreat for the moment.

  "Well, I didn't mean to meddle in your business affairs. I was just so concerned about the pagoda job," she said, lightly dismissing her earlier words, which she had actually meant seriously, and so pretended to accept her husband's wishes, mostly out of a desire to soothe his troubled heart.

  Relaxing his stiff expression, Genta said, "Everything is ordained by the turn of fortune's wheel. So long as I remain amenable and cooperative, my good turn will come again. Looking at it that way, I rather enjoy the idea of giving up half the job to Nossori. Life can be miserable or pleasant depending on your own frame of mind, so I'll be content to live a simple clean one, untainted by the sordid rust of egotism."

  He tossed down a cup of sake and then began to drink more moderately over harmless small talk—gossip of the theater, reports of his apprentices' performance, and so forth. They finished lunch sharing the same tray rather intimately, if a little inelegantly. Then Genta settled down to wait for jūbei.

  Time drifted steadily on; the shafts of sunlight pouring through the paper doors shifted a foot. But jūbei failed to appear. Another foot later, there was still no sign of him.

  "He ought to come to me with his head hung low and shoulders narrowed to negotiate. He ought to beg me to give him even half the work if only by grace of the Abbot's considerate advice. Why is he so late? Has he given up? Is he sulking alone at home, seeing no use in further negotiation? Or is he waiting for me to come to him? If so, he's too audacious for his own good. But I hardly think he'd be so arrogant. Slow-witted as he is, he's probably just taking his own leisurely time as usual. Even so, there's a limit to everything."

  Genta smoked irritably. The short autumn day seemed interminable to the waiting man. It drew to an end at last, and flocks of crows returned to their nests. Genta was barely able to control his temper, which was threatening to flare up at any moment. When dinner was placed before him, he ate a bit for the sake of eating something, not even lingering over his cup of tea. "Okichi, I'm going to pay jūbei a visit. If he shows up here, make him wait for me," he said, leaving the house.

  Concerned but unable to help, Okichi saw him off and heaved a series of deep sighs.

  <13>

  His temper inflamed all the more by the uncooperative wooden doors, Genta forced them open and entered the house. "Is Jūbei home?"

  Onami, immediately recognizing the voice, found it painful to face Genta, knowing that her husband had turned against his own benefactor. Her sensitive female heart was already pounding. "Oh, Master...," she said almost instinctively, unable to utter a word of greeting in her panic. In the meantime, Genta's eyes caught sight of the lone figure sitting by a lamp full of needle holes and oil stains. Not waiting to be asked up, Genta marched into the room. Only then did Onami hastily invite him to sit by the brazier, betraying her inexperience in social manners.

  Jūbei bowed awkwardly and said, "I was planning to call on you in the morning."

  With a dark scowl, Genta assumed a deliberately calm tone. "Oh, were you? Short-tempered as I am, I've been waiting for you at home all this while. What a fool I was to come here tonight not realizing when you intended to come to me. Anyway, jūbei, how did you take the Abbot's tale today? After advising us to go home and negotiate the matter, he told us the story about the two sons of an elder. I'm here to learn your decision. I'm a headstrong man, but I realize that quarreling does no good to either of us, just as the parable teaches. We are not exactly enemies, and I for my part mean to be fair. Curbing my own desires, I did a great deal of thinking in the hope of arriving at an equitable settlement. But first I'd like to hear your candid opinion. I'm a man who refuses to play unfair tricks, believe me."

  Genta stopped speaking for a moment to observe jūbei, who hung his face low, mumbling, "Yes, yes." His disheveled hair flashed several gray streaks in the flickering lamplight. At the head of the bedding in which Ino had fallen asleep, Onami sat silent and immobile as if bating her breath. It was so quiet that even the noodle vendor's distant calls came faintly drifting into the house.

  Genta composed himself and continued gently. "I'll try to be frank. It must be your lifelong ambition to demonstrate your hidden talent by producing a magnificent piece of work and succeed in attaining the artisan's supreme goal. It's no mercenary greed if you aspire to immortalize your own designs and craftsmanship for posterity. I can well understand that, for I feel exactly the same way. This sort of construction project will not easily come our way again. If we miss it now, our chances of finding another such job in our lifetime will be very slim indeed. I, too, am most anxious to leave my own designs and craftsmanship for posterity. Furthermore, Kannō Temple has practically kept me on retainers for some time, while you have had no such past connection. I was asked to submit estimates, but you were not. Others would say that I deserve this contract, while charging that you are not quite up to the scale of this job yet. But I don't take advantage of such arguments, nor do I rely on the opinions of others.

  "I'm well aware of the plight you suffer despite your fine skill, and I also know you are crying in your heart without ever complaining of your misfortune in words. Yours is a life so sorrowful that I could not possibly endure it if I were in your place. That's why I've done all I can to help you for the past two years, little as it may have seemed to you. But please don't think I'm demanding gratitude now. It was only because the Abbot saw your pure heart and felt sorry for your misfortune that he admonished us as he did today. As for myself, if you were the kind of man who would turn against me out of greed or for some similar reason, I wouldn't let you escape before smashing your head with an axe, saying, 'You insolent good-for-nothing, getting in the way of my work!' But as I wholeheartedly sympathize with you, I even feel like giving the job up for you. But I can't cast aside my own ambition just like that, for I truly want this job at all costs.

  "Now, jūbei, this request is difficult to make and not easy to accept, but here it is. Please accept my offer to build the pagoda together, with me as the chief and you as my assistant. I'll plead with you—no, I am pleading.... Why don't you say something? Do you mean to turn me down?" Genta even turned to Onami, who was already moved to tears, and said, "If you understand what I've been saying, Onami, please persuade him to accept."


  "Oh, Master, I thank you with all my heart. Who else in the world would be generous enough to make such an offer." Her left sleeve heavy with tears, Onami stretched her right hand to entreat with jūbei, who had turned into a silent statue. "Why don't you express your gratitude to the Master?" She repeated her plea twice and three times but to no avail.

  At long last jūbei raised his face and replied curtly, "I can't accept that."

  Onami gasped in disbelief.

  "What?" exploded Genta, thrusting his head forward to glower straight down at Nossori, his eyes burning with rage.

  <14>

  "The Master made his generous offer solely out of kindness, complying with the dictate of social obligations, yet not losing the flower of human sentiments," Onami cried out inwardly. "I know my husband is not affable by nature, but how dare he say, 'I can't accept that?' Even a clay doll devoid of sensibility would not make such a reply. How deplorably thoughtless, how mortifyingly reckless! How could he be so irrational?" Shocked and dismayed, Onami felt as if her own body were being tortured on the rack. Impulsively she edged closer to her husband.

  "What on earth do you mean by that?" she implored. "The Master has been doing everything to help you. He could easily kick someone like you out of his way if he but wished. Yet he has made an exceedingly generous offer, letting you share a job which he would be more than happy to keep entirely for himself. Besides that, did he summon you to his house? No, he took the trouble to come to our wretched place, where we have not even a decent cushion to offer him. How could you be so ungrateful? It's nothing if not impertinent and willful to say, 'I can't accept that.' There's a limit to greed and arrogance.

  "Can't you see this kimono I'm wearing? Madame Okichi gave this to me early last winter when she found me shivering without a coat. It's bad enough that you should compete with the Master, to whom we are so deeply indebted, but you even reject his offer altogether, refusing to trust in him when he is doing all he can to befriend his inferior, never calling you ungrateful or impertinent. Even if you hate to accept his offer, are those the words that could be uttered by a man with a memory? Please think of your obligation to the Master and of Madame Okichi's feelings. After this, how could I ever face her again? The broadminded Master may simply dismiss us as hopeless fools, but what will others say? Without a doubt you'll be ostracized as an ingrate, a social deviate, a beast without a heart, a dog, a crow.... What glory would you find in a job if you have to turn into a dog or a crow to obtain it?

  "You yourself always lecture me not to be greedy or overeager. Aren't you ashamed now? Please go along with the Master's idea. People will admire the towering pagoda, knowing it was built jointly by two men—your name recorded side by side with the Master's. Your labor will be well rewarded, and the Master's kindness will become widely known, as it should be. How happy and proud I will be! Try to find a cause for complaint then. You must be possessed by the devil to reject such a proposal. Oh, how miserable I feel! Have you forgotten your place, which you must know very well without my reminding you?"

  Her speech trailed off into tearful sobs. Even the thread through the sewing needle stuck in her chignon was swaying unsteadily, revealing her painfully shattered state of mind. It was a pitiful sight.

  Jūbei, who had been sitting with his eyes closed, said gruffly, "Hold your tongue, Onami. How can I speak when you're babbling away like that? Master, please listen to my side of the story."

  <15>

  Bracing his hands over both knees to keep from trembling, jūbei stiffened his back.

  "It's heartless, Master. It is heartless of you to suggest a joint venture. Giving me half the job seems charitable, but it's actually heartless. I won't accept it. I can't. As much as I want to build the pagoda, I've already given up the idea. On my way home after the Abbot's admonishment, I gave it up altogether. It was my mistake to have conceived such an ambition in the first place. What a fool indeed to overstep my bounds! Everything will be all right so long as Nossori remains a dimwitted fool. I'll spend the rest of my life fixing gutter covers and tenement houses. Please forgive me, Master. It's all my fault. Never again will I even dream of building a pagoda. I'll look forward to seeing you, Master, not a stranger, but my own benefactor, build a magnificent pagoda all by yourself."

  As jūbei feebly mouthed his words, Genta pressed his knees forward impatiently.

  "What a ridiculous thing to say!" he cried. "How unreasonable can you get? The Abbot didn't tell the tale just for you to hear. Don't you realize that he meant it for my ears also? If you heard it with your head, I heard it with my heart. How could I call myself a man if you carry all the burden and play the martyr at my expense? Are you foolish enough to think that everything will be all right as long as you yield and remain a loser? Do you think I'd jump at the chance to take over the whole job? I'd be ashamed to face the Abbot if I did! Furthermore, I couldn't fling my sense of honor to the wind after living by it for so long. And would you gain anything by yielding? No! Wouldn't that be the height of stupidity! What good would it do either of us? Now do you see why I propose an amicable joint venture? If you find that somewhat unpleasant, I assure you the feeling is mutual. But there is no reason why we can't compete in tolerance. There's no need for you to go out of your way to play the fool and waste your fine skill, as well as your endeavor of the last few days. If you can see the sense in what I've said, jūbei, change your mind. I don't think I'm being unreasonable.... Why don't you speak up? Will you give in? Or do you still suspect my intentions? jūbei, aren't you being a little heartless yourself?... Say something! Don't you agree? Well, don't you? It's impossible to understand you if you remain silent. Am I wrong? Or are you angry because my suggestion is not good enough for you?"

  An Edoite scrupulous in performing his social obligations yet susceptible to sentiment, Genta was as unbending in his principles as he was unsparing in his kindness. Gratefulness overcame Onami, who had continued to listen attentively. She looked anxiously toward her taciturn husband, her eyes brimming with tears that betrayed her gratitude toward Genta more eloquently than words. Still motionless and wordless, jūbei was immersed in thought, his head sagging low. Only the teardrops falling on his knees seemed to speak for him. Genta also fell silent, deliberating for some moments.

  "Jūbei, don't you understand yet?" said Genta at last. "You must hate the idea of having to share the work you wanted so much for yourself. You must be resentful, moreover, that I should be the chief and you the assistant. Well then, let's settle it this way. I'm willing to take the position of assistant and acknowledge you as the chief. So take it with good grace and agree to build the pagoda with me," Genta concluded resolutely, forcing himself to compromise his own wish.

  "Heavens no, Master! Even a madman could not do such a thing! It's a sacrilege," exclaimed jūbei hastily.

  "Well, then, would you agree to my original suggestion?"

  "Well, I just...," faltered Jūbei.

  "Shall we make you the chief? Or is it still not to your liking?" Genta pressed.

  As jūbei groped for words, his wife was nearly driven out of her mind. "Why don't you accept?" she urged breathlessly, a note of reproach in her voice.

  Trapped in a desperate impasse, jūbei slowly raised his head. With his eyes enlarged in determination, he blurted out, "I don't want to share a job with anyone, whether I'm the chief or the assistant. I could never do it. Please build it yourself, Master. I shall remain a fool-"

  "In spite of all my effort to be fair?" Genta angrily demanded, not waiting for jūbei to finish.

  "That's right. I am grateful, but I can't lie. I can't do it. I don't want to."

  "How can you say that to me! Then you refuse to go along with my idea? Is that it?"

  "I have no other choice."

  "You shall pay for this, you Nossori! You ingrate. You're entirely devoid of human sentiments! Are you in any position to talk that way to me? Well, I shall never speak to you again. Spend the rest of your life fixing gutter
boxes! I'm sorry, but I won't let a single finger of yours touch my pagoda. I shall build it splendidly by myself. Gloat over flaws in it, if you can find any."

  <16>

  "Oh, thank you very much. I feel awfully tipsy. I couldn't swallow another drop."

  Though his words declined, Seikichi's hand holding out the sake cup would not withdraw—a curious habit of all drinkers. Already inebriated with the free drinks, he settled down sanctimoniously, his faculties still functioning enough for him to assume proper reserve.

  "I'm sorry I've gotten so drunk while the Boss is away. Drinking with you alone, Ma'am, I should be careful not to wind up dancing to the tune of 'Twilight,' you know. Ha, ha, ha! I'm beginning to feel awfully happy. I'd better leave now. If I get too drunk, the Boss will take me to task for sure. But I'm always grateful to him, Ma'am, even for his scolding. I'm not currying favor or anything, mind you, but I really do appreciate the Boss more than the Tea Bag. On the Ryōun-in job some time ago, I got into a fight with Tetsu and Kei over a trivial matter and seriously injured Tetsu on the shoulder. His family then came crying to me. I was terribly sorry about what I'd done, but there was nothing a poor fellow like me could do for him. I was nearly driven to fleeing from Edo, when the Boss paid for Tetsu's treatment and care without reproaching me one bit. He only advised me, 'A fight is unavoidable under certain circumstances, Sei, but if you feel sorry for Tetsu, apologize just to make his parents feel better, and you'll be able to sleep in peace too.' How considerate of him! I was so thankful that I actually cried. I owed Tetsu no apology, but I swallowed my pride and took the Boss's advice. Strangely enough, since then Tetsu and I somehow became such fast friends that we're pledging to be the executor of each other's funeral. And we have the Boss to thank for our friendship.