people just affect me that way."
"But I don't want to go alone!"
"The priest is there, isn't he?"
"Yes, but he always leaves when I arrive."
"Hmm. That's not so good. All right, I'll go with you. Now stop thinking about it, and go wash your face."
When Otsū finally appeared at the priest's quarters, the captain, already slouching drunkenly, immediately perked up. Straightening his cap, which had been listing noticeably, he became quite jovial and called for refill after refill. Soon his face glowed scarlet and the corners of his bulging eyes began to sag.
He was not enjoying himself to the full, however, and the reason was a singularly unwanted presence in the room. On the other side of the lamp sat Takuan, bent over like a blind beggar, absorbed in reading the book open on his knees.
Mistaking the monk for an acolyte, the captain pointed at him, bellowing, "Hey, you there!"
Takuan continued reading until Otsū gave him a nudge. He raised his eyes absently, and looking all around, said, "You mean me?"
The captain spoke gruffly. "Yes, you! I have no business with you. Leave!" "Oh, I don't mind staying," Takuan replied innocently.
"Oh, you don't, do you?"
"No, not at all," Takuan said, returning to his book.
"Well, I mind," the captain blustered. "It spoils the taste of good sake to have someone around reading."
"Oh, I'm sorry," responded Takuan with mock solicitude. "How rude of me. I'll just close the book."
"The very sight annoys me."
"All right, then. I'll have Otsū- put it away."
"Not the book, you idiot! I'm talking about you! You spoil the setting."
Takuan's expression became grave. "Now, that is a problem, isn't it? It's not as though I were the sacred Wu-k'ung and could change myself into a puff of smoke, or become an insect and perch on your tray."
The captain's red neck swelled and his eyes bulged. He looked like a blowfish. "Get out, you fool! Out of my sight!"
"Very well," said Takuan quietly, bowing. Taking Otsū's hand, he addressed her. "The guest says he prefers to be alone. To love solitude is the mark of the sage. We mustn't bother him further. Come."
"Why . . . why, you . . . you . . ."
"Is something wrong?"
"Who said anything about taking Otsū with you, you ugly moron!"
Takuan folded his arms. "I've observed over the years that not many priests or monks are particularly handsome. Not many samurai either, for that matter. Take you, for example."
The captain's eyes nearly leapt from their sockets. "What!"
"Have you considered your mustache? I mean, have you ever really taken the time to look at it, to evaluate it objectively?"
"You crazy bastard," shouted the captain as he reached for his sword, which was leaning against the wall. "Watch yourself!"
As he got to his feet, Takuan, keeping one eye on him, asked placidly, "Hmm. How do I go about watching myself?"
The captain, who was by now screaming, had his sheathed sword in hand. "I've taken all I can take. Now you're going to get what's coming to you!"
Takuan burst out laughing. "Does that mean you plan to cut off my head? If so, forget it. It would be a terrible bore."
"Huh?"
"A bore. I can't think of anything more boring than cutting off a monk's head. It would just fall to the floor and lie there laughing up at you. Not a very grand accomplishment, and what good could it possibly do you?"
"Well," growled the captain, let's just say I'd have the satisfaction of shutting you up. It'd be pretty hard for you to keep up your insolent chatter!" Filled with the courage such people derive from having a weapon in hand, he laughed a mean belly laugh and moved forward threateningly.
"But, captain!"
Takuan's offhand manner had so enraged him that the hand in which he held his scabbard was shaking violently. Otsū slipped between the two men in an effort to protect Takuan.
"What are you saying, Takuan?" she said, hoping to lighten the mood and slow the action. "People don't talk like that to warriors. Now, just say you're sorry," she entreated.
"But I don't want to go alone!"
"The priest is there, isn't he?"
"Yes, but he always leaves when I arrive."
"Hmm. That's not so good. All right, I'll go with you. Now stop thinking about it, and go wash your face."
When Otsū finally appeared at the priest's quarters, the captain, already slouching drunkenly, immediately perked up. Straightening his cap, which had been listing noticeably, he became quite jovial and called for refill after refill. Soon his face glowed scarlet and the corners of his bulging eyes began to sag.
He was not enjoying himself to the full, however, and the reason was a singularly unwanted presence in the room. On the other side of the lamp sat Takuan, bent over like a blind beggar, absorbed in reading the book open on his knees.
Mistaking the monk for an acolyte, the captain pointed at him, bellowing, "Hey, you there!"
Takuan continued reading until Otsū gave him a nudge. He raised his eyes absently, and looking all around, said, "You mean me?"
The captain spoke gruffly. "Yes, you! I have no business with you. Leave!" "Oh, I don't mind staying," Takuan replied innocently.
"Oh, you don't, do you?"
"No, not at all," Takuan said, returning to his book.
"Well, I mind," the captain blustered. "It spoils the taste of good sake to have someone around reading."
"Oh, I'm sorry," responded Takuan with mock solicitude. "How rude of me. I'll just close the book."
"The very sight annoys me."
"All right, then. I'll have Otsū- put it away."
"Not the book, you idiot! I'm talking about you! You spoil the setting."
Takuan's expression became grave. "Now, that is a problem, isn't it? It's not as though I were the sacred Wu-k'ung and could change myself into a puff of smoke, or become an insect and perch on your tray."
The captain's red neck swelled and his eyes bulged. He looked like a blowfish. "Get out, you fool! Out of my sight!"
"Very well," said Takuan quietly, bowing. Taking Otsū's hand, he addressed her. "The guest says he prefers to be alone. To love solitude is the mark of the sage. We mustn't bother him further. Come."
"Why . . . why, you . . . you . . ."
"Is something wrong?"
"Who said anything about taking Otsū with you, you ugly moron!"
Takuan folded his arms. "I've observed over the years that not many priests or monks are particularly handsome. Not many samurai either, for that matter. Take you, for example."
The captain's eyes nearly leapt from their sockets. "What!"
"Have you considered your mustache? I mean, have you ever really taken the time to look at it, to evaluate it objectively?"
"You crazy bastard," shouted the captain as he reached for his sword, which was leaning against the wall. "Watch yourself!"
As he got to his feet, Takuan, keeping one eye on him, asked placidly, "Hmm. How do I go about watching myself?"
The captain, who was by now screaming, had his sheathed sword in hand. "I've taken all I can take. Now you're going to get what's coming to you!"
Takuan burst out laughing. "Does that mean you plan to cut off my head? If so, forget it. It would be a terrible bore."
"Huh?"
"A bore. I can't think of anything more boring than cutting off a monk's head. It would just fall to the floor and lie there laughing up at you. Not a very grand accomplishment, and what good could it possibly do you?"
"Well," growled the captain, let's just say I'd have the satisfaction of shutting you up. It'd be pretty hard for you to keep up your insolent chatter!" Filled with the courage such people derive from having a weapon in hand, he laughed a mean belly laugh and moved forward threateningly.
"But, captain!"
Takuan's offhand manner had so enraged him that the hand in which he held his scabbard was shaking violently. Otsū slipped between the two men in an effort to protect Takuan.
"What are you saying, Takuan?" she said, hoping to lighten the mood and slow the action. "People don't talk like that to warriors. Now, just say you're sorry," she entreated.
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