Dororo: Part One
Nakamura Masaru
Part 1: Hyakkimaru
Chapter 5
Biwabōshi strummed his lute. "When I met him again, he'd already killed three demons. He's gotten gloomier over the years, ever since he left home. I don't think he ever went back."
Dororo was still listening. There were other things that Biwabōshi could say, but he wasn't quite sure how to express them. Hyakkimaru was a cold man with a flat affect, except for when he boiled over with rage. Biwabōshi had never seen Hyakkimaru happy, and he'd never seen him completely calm, either.
"What happened to him after he left the mountain?" Dororo asked.
"Who knows?" Biwabōshi shrugged.
"Hey now," Dororo said. "There's gotta be more that you know. I mean, that crab monster was a demon, right? When he killed it, his right leg grew back. The demon must have been using his leg to pass as human and trick people."
"I didn't see that, so I don't know," Biwabōshi said. "But if his leg did grow back, then you're probably right."
"Don't play dumb." Dororo folded his arms. "The way I see it, if he kills the demon who stole his eyes, he'll get those back, or his guts, or his spleen or whatever. But I don't get how the demons are even using his body in the first place."
"Huh?" Biwabōshi asked.
"Don't you wanna know why the Hall of Hell burned down and that priest died and everything? There's a whole lot of shit in your story that I'm curious about."
"Are you really so curious?" Biwabōshi asked.
"Duh, of course, I just said I was."
"I'm sure he wants to know, too, even more than you do."
"Well, yeah..."
"Looks like you'll have to find him again," Biwabōshi said. "If you really want to find out, that is."
Dororo frowned at him sourly. "Now I think that you're just trying to get rid of me."
"Not at all. I am merely saying that if you wish to know, then he is the one you should ask. Not me."
"Can he even hear me if I ask a question?" Dororo muttered. Hyakkimaru had a voice, but he didn't seem to use it for much. "I guess I've gotta try. You don't meet a man like that every day. Did he say anything to you?"
"He has said nothing to me about his journey since the death of Jukai, his father," Biwabōshi said.
"Hm." Dororo could empathize with that. He'd lost his father, too, long ago. "I another question," Dororo said.
Biwabōshi shifted a little to face him.
"What did he say the last time you talked to him? Before today, I mean?"
Biwabōshi thought about the last time he'd met Hyakkimaru.
It was a cold autumn evening, some five years before in a field of pampas grass on a mountain slope. The last light of sunset turned the grass as red as blood. Biwabōshi saw the shadow of a man approaching from higher up the mountain and sensed the presence of Hyakkimaru, the demon-killing sword he'd gifted to Jukai.
"Hyakkimaru, hm?" Biwabōshi asked as the man passed by.
At the time, Biwabōshi had considered their meeting a coincidence, but now, he wondered if the hand of fate had interfered to bring them together in some way. On some level, Biwabōshi believed that everything was fated, and that there were no coincidences.
Biwabōshi started thinking about the day he'd given Jukai the sword. Without words, he and Hyakkimaru exchanged memories of the past—the Hall of Hell, and burning down Jukai's hut, and other things. Hyakkimaru stood very still, then started trembling all over. He was not used to closing off his mind from others, and he hadn't expected to meet another person who knew about the demon-killing sword.
"Who are you?" Hyakkimaru whispered. "How do you know..."
Biwabōshi thought that Hyakkimaru looked like a piece of the red-tinged grass, swaying precariously in the wind. He remembered meeting Jukai more than a decade before. Hyakkimaru had his same cadence and way of speaking.
"I am a simple traveler, nothing more."
"So am I. We've never met, so..."
"No," Biwabōshi said neutrally. "That is, we were not introduced. But I knew your father, and I know about the Hall of Hell."
There was a dark aura swirling around Hyakkimaru. Biwabōshi felt hatred and rage, but most of what he felt was actually despair.
"What is the Hall of Hell?" Hyakkimaru asked. "Why does something like that exist?"
"It no longer does," Biwabōshi said. "The Hall of Hell burned down many years ago. Even the spirit of the aged priest who watched over the place has departed. It is no longer anything but a desolate wasteland."
"Where is it?" Hyakkimaru asked.
"I don't mind telling you," Biwabōshi said. "It's probably someplace you should go, ruined as it is. It's on a mountain in Muroto territory."
Biwabōshi taught Hyakkimaru the way. Hyakkimaru was about to turn away and leave when Biwabōshi called him back.
"Say...how many demons have you defeated so far?"
"Three," Hyakkimaru said.
"You have quite a ways to go," Biwabōshi said. "Where are you staying?"
"None of your business," Hyakkimaru said.
"Hmph." Biwabōshi shrugged. "I take it you intend to defeat more demons?"
Hyakkimaru gave no reply. Biwabōshi could still feel his emotions swirling around him. He believed that his guess was correct. "You cannot return your body to normal unless you destroy them," Biwabōshi said quietly.
Hyakkimaru opened his mouth to say something, then closed it. He seemed utterly lost, like he had no idea what to do. Finally, he said, "I have nothing to do with you. Leave me alone."
"Restoring your body will be difficult," Biwabōshi said. "It will cause you great pain. That is the nature of human bodies. That voice offered you a choice, didn't it? Why didn't you remain on the mountain that was your home?"
"What do you know about me, huh?" Hyakkimaru spat. "Nothing. You don't know anything."
"I am ignorant of your entire situation," Biwabōshi said, "but I am old, and have traveled much. The world is wide, and right now, it is very dangerous. Who knows what may happen if you continue to venture out into it. Aren't you afraid?"
Hyakkimaru's aura burned with anger. No one in this world truly understood him, with his father gone. A wave of loneliness engulfed him.
Biwabōshi strummed out a long-held note on his lute. The world around Biwabōshi and Hyakkimaru was dark and featureless.
"You gave my father this sword," Hyakkimaru said, touching his left arm. "I intend to borrow it for a little while longer." Then he spun on his heel and started moving back up the mountain.
"Do you know if he went to the Hall of Hell or not?" Dororo asked.
"When he went, he saw nothing but crumbling steps and ruined buildings overgrown by vegetation."
"So he didn't find anything?"
"Nothing of note," Biwabōshi said. "You are awfully interested in him. Why? Do you feel sorry for him?"
"Nope."
Biwabōshi rubbed at his bald forehead. "Really? Not even a little?"
"Why should I?" Dororo shot back. "His childhood sucked. So what? He grew up and became some wandering bum. Seems like a common enough story to me."
"Wandering...bum?"
"Isn't he?" Dororo asked. "Going around talking tough and threatening people...still, I guess it's a normal reaction to growing up that way. The world sucks, too. He's just a plain old ordinary person—a punk kid with no place to go."
Biwabōshi gaped at Dororo for a moment, then began to laugh. He made no sound when he laughed, but his shoulders shook until the tremors spread through his entire body.
"Hey!" Dororo shouted. "What's so funny?"
"Nothing. It's just..." Biwabōshi got his laughter under control. "An 'ordinary person'...him? But maybe you're right. Maybe he is an ordinary person. He is also terrifying, so if I were you, I'd watch your step."
"I ain't been afraid of nothin' in my whole life. Why should I be afraid of him?"
Biwabōshi shrugged. "You've heard my tale. Pay up."
"Why would I pay you for such a boring story?" Dororo stuck his tongue out.
At just that moment, the man Dororo had robbed earlier walked past. He noticed Dororo and ran up to him.
"You bitch! Give me back my money!"
Dororo pouted. "Fine. If you want it that bad, you can have it back."
Dororo threw something the same size and shape as a money pouch at the man, but when he caught it, his eyes widened in alarm. There was nothing inside the pouch but two large, sharp needles, which the man had just embedded into his own hand.
"Gaaaaaah!" The man screamed, dropping the pouch.
Dororo got up and kicked the man in the crotch while he was distracted by his wounded hand. The man made a punched-out, weak sort of cry, like he couldn't believe what was happening. Then he passed out, falling on his back into the street.
Dororo kept kicking the man while he was down.
"Don't you think that's quite enough?" Biwabōshi asked, unable to look on while someone helpless was being attacked.
"Does it look like enough?" Dororo all but shouted. "Men and snakes have something in common. If you remove the head, they die." He continued kicking the unconscious man between the legs.
"What reason do you have to kill him?" Biwabōshi asked. "Do you even know his name?"
"Nope, and I don't need to." Dororo patted down the unconscious man, finding another small money pouch and pocketing it.
Biwabōshi held out his hand for payment.
"What's wrong?" Dororo asked. "Is it raining or something?"
"It is customary to pay for a story once it's done," he said primly.
"Hmph," Dororo said. "Who's got money?"
"Didn't you just pocket some?" Biwabōshi was not quite as blind as he appeared.
Dororo's expression soured. "God, you're annoying. I've got another question. Answer it, and I'll pay you."
"Ask."
"Can that demon-killing sword kill people, too?"
"What?" Biwabōshi appeared genuinely confused. A sword was a sword; it was logical to assume that it could kill anything alive that could be cut.
Dororo waited for a few seconds, then folded his arms. "Well, you didn't answer, so I won't pay. Maybe the next time we meet, I'll have something interesting to tell you instead. And I'll expect to be paid for my trouble."
Dororo laughed, then sprinted down the street.
"Oi!" Biwabōshi called after Dororo. He didn't look back. Biwabōshi watched Dororo blend into the crowd. The man he'd beaten up was stirring. He got up and staggered down the street, still chasing Dororo. He had no hope of catching up now.
Biwabōshi smiled a little. Dororo was a wanderer and a thief. Hyakkimaru was a wanderer who'd had everything stolen from him. Perhaps they were meant to meet.
Dororo ran, weaving his way nimbly through the crowd. He passed by a monkey playing a drum on a street corner just outside a brothel, giving the whores and courtesans he saw milling about plenty of space.
I've gotta get out of here.
The monkey hissed at Dororo as he passed, showing teeth. Dororo poked it in the forehead and tossed its drumsticks away, into the street, then kept running.
The look the monkey had given him was disturbing. What was his problem, huh?
Dororo fled the town at top speed, as if he were still being chased. It wouldn't be wise to return here anytime soon.
Dororo had no intention of returning.
Hyakkimaru. Dororo was interested in that sword. If it could kill humans as well as demons, it might be just the thing he was looking for.
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