Read Musashi: Bushido Code for Free Online

did Takezō's bidding. By the time he was twelve or thirteen, he was almost as tall as an adult.
    One year, a wandering swordsman named Arima Kihei put up a gold-emblazoned banner and offered to take on challengers from the village. Takezō killed him effortlessly, eliciting praise for his valor from the villagers. Theirhigh opinion of him, however, was short-lived, since as he grew older, he became increasingly unmanageable and brutal. Many thought him sadistic, and soon, whenever he appeared on the scene, people gave him a very wide berth. His attitude toward them grew to reflect their coldness.
    When his father, as harsh and unrelenting as ever, finally died, the cruel streak in Takezō widened even more. If it had not been for his older sister, Ogin, Takezō would probably have gotten himself into something far over his head and been driven out of the village by an angry mob. Fortunately, he loved his sister and, powerless before her tears, usually did whatever she asked.
    Going off to war with Matahachi was a turning point for Takezō. It indicated that somehow he wanted to take his place in society alongside other men. The defeat at Sekigahara had abruptly curtailed such hopes, and he found himself once again plunged into the dark reality from which he thought he had escaped. Still, he was a youth blessed with the sublime lightheartedness that flourishes only in an age of strife. When he slept, his face became as placid as an infant's, completely untroubled by thoughts of the morrow. He had his share of dreams, asleep or awake, but he suffered few real disappointments. Having so little to begin with, he had little to lose, and although he was in a sense uprooted, he was also unfettered by shackles.
    Breathing deeply and steadily, holding on to his wooden sword tightly, Takezō at this moment may well have been dreaming, a faint smile on his lips as visions of his gentle sister and his peaceful hometown cascaded like a mountain waterfall before his closed, heavily lashed eyes. Okō, carrying a lamp, slipped into his room. "What a peaceful face," she marveled under her breath; she reached out and lightly touched his lips with her fingers.
    Then she blew out the lamp and lay down beside him. Curling up catlike, she inched closer and closer to his body, her whitened face and colorful nightgown, really too youthful for her, hidden by the darkness. The only sound that could be heard was that of dewdrops dripping onto the windowsill.
"I wonder if he's still a virgin," she mused as she reached out to remove his wooden sword.
The instant she touched it, Takezō was on his feet and shouting, "Thief! Thief!"
Okō was thrown over onto the lamp, which cut into her shoulder and chest.
    Takezō was wrenching her arm without mercy. She screamed out in pain. Astonished, he released her. "Oh, it's you. I thought it was a thief." "Oooh," moaned Okō. "That hurt!"
    "I'm sorry. I didn't know it was you."
    "You don't know your own strength. You almost tore my arm off." "I said I was sorry. What are you doing here, anyway?"
    Ignoring his innocent query, she quickly recovered from her arm injury and tried to coil the same limb around his neck, cooing, "You don't have to apologize. Takezō . . ." She ran the back of her hand softly against his cheek.
    "Hey! What are you doing? Are you crazy?" he shouted, shrinking away from her touch.
    "Don't make so much noise, you idiot. You know how I feel about you." She went on trying to fondle him, with him swatting at her like a man attacked by a swarm of bees.
"Yes, and I'm very grateful. Neither of us will ever forget how kind you've been, taking us in and all."
"I don't mean that, Takezō. I'm talking about my woman's feelings—the lovely, warm feeling I have for you."
"Wait a minute," he said, jumping up. "I'll light the lamp!"
"Oh, how can you be so cruel," she whimpered, moving to embrace him again.
"Don't do that!" he cried indignantly. "Stop it—I mean it!"
Something in his voice, something