Dororo: A Novel
Tsuji Masaki
Part Three
The Tale of Bandai
Chapter 2
Dororo was confused, but he dug where Hyakkimaru had indicated. It was easy digging, and he and Hyakkimaru soon made a large hole. At the bottom of it, something glinted in the darkness.
“Money... is this money?!” Dororo asked.
"Yes," Hyakkimaru said calmly. There was a mountain’s worth of gold in the hole at his feet—at least one or two hundred coins, by the look of it.
“That figure we just saw was a spirit. The world is full of spirits just like it. Some spirits live in other things, like trees or grass or insects or metal. Even the clouds. It’s quite mysterious.”
Dororo crouched at the edge of the hole. He extended his hand and touched the pile of gold. “What’s going on here, anyway?” Dororo asked. “Who would bury money?”
“If we go to the village nearby, we might find out,” Hyakkimaru said.
“All right, I’ll go with you,” Dororo said.
The fact that Dororo didn’t immediately pocket the money despite his being a thief spoke to his character. If he’d cared more about the money than about learning the truth of why it was there, the story would have taken a very different turn. But he was interested in the world of the surreal and the weird that he’d recently stepped into by following Hyakkimaru.
Dororo sprang lightly to his feet. “Well, then. Let’s go see what this is about.”
“Stop! Thieves!”
People sprang at Dororo and Hyakkimaru from all directions. While Hyakkimaru could sense spirits and demons with ease, his perception was less perfect when it came to sensing people. Or perhaps he’d just had no reason to pay attention to the people until now. Surrounded, Dororo and Hyakkimaru were quickly pinned to the ground.
Dororo was used to being hidden from sight and free from captivity, so of course he protested.
“Hey! What the hell are you people doing to us?! Let go!”
“You shameless brat! To think the thief would talk back!” An old man said sourly, as if he’d just sucked on a piece of pickled dried plum.
“What? I’m not just any common thief! I’m Dororo, the greatest thief in the whole world! Hey!”
“That money belongs to our village,” another of Dororo and Hyakkimaru’s captors said. “It was hidden there for safekeeping.”
“Hold on, now,” Dororo said. “I might be a thief, but I had no idea that money was there at all! I swear!” But of course this protestation was too little, too late.
“Enough complaining!” another captor shouted.
During the Muromachi Period, peasant uprisings were common occurrences. Farmers and even monks that served in temples rose up in rebellion. Consequently, the farmers were armed, even if it was only with hoes and axes. The farmers brought Dororo and Hyakkimaru to the village and ringed them round, carrying their makeshift weapons. They proceeded to beat their captives.
“Ow! That hurts!” Dororo said.
“Of course it hurts; it’s a beating! What did you expect?! Now, bring them this way!”
The villagers brought out a coil of rope to bind their prisoners. Their arms were trussed up so that they could be dragged around like cows and horses on leads.
“Aniki, say something!” Dororo shouted to Hyakkimaru. But Hyakkimaru said nothing. He was still and silent. Hyakkimaru snorted a little in amusement or disdain as the ropes were wound around his wrists, but he made no move to resist. He sensed Dororo nearby, struggling, and felt a shiver go up his spine.
“Hey, aniki!”
Hyakkimaru chuckled. “Don’t cause a fuss, Dororo.” The villagers and Dororo both seemed to have forgotten that Hyakkimaru had allowed himself to be captured.
“Who’s causing a fuss?” Dororo grumbled.
“Do you smell that?”
“Smell what?”
“There’s a demon in this village,” he said, licking his lips. “And there’s no point in complaining at the moment.”
The old man who looked like he’d sucked on pickled plums was hard of hearing, so he didn’t overhear much of what Dororo and Hyakkimaru said to one another. “You two will be brought before Lady Bandai. She will judge your crimes.”
“Bandai? Who’s that?” Dororo asked. “Sounds like ‘footstool.’”
One of the villagers picked up a trailing strand of rope and whipped Dororo on the backside with it.
“Ow ow ow!”
“Lady Bandai has lived in the village since last autumn. She is a noble lady of deep feeling, and we will not tolerate you disrespecting her.”
“Oh. Is she pretty?”
Dororo received another strike to his backside for that.
“Don’t ask stupid questions, child.”
“She must be ugly, then, if he isn’t pretty. I bet her face is shaped like a pumpkin.”
“Be silent! Lady Bandai is a beautiful woman. There is not another like her in all in the world!” The old man leading them farther into the village was severely annoyed. He pointed ahead of them.
“That is Lady Bandai’s estate,” the old man said.
Both Dororo and Hyakkimaru looked where the man was pointing. The building was shrouded in morning mist, so it was difficult to make out details. The gate in front of the building was tall and wide. The quality of the sunlight as it hit the estate was odd, spreading in some places and leaving others that were equally exposed to the light in shadow.
“There it is,” Hyakkimaru whispered.
“What?” Dororo asked.
“That’s where the demon lives.”
“Really, aniki?”
“Yes. I believe in my own senses here. One of the demons that stole a piece of my body is beyond that gate.”
Dororo rubbed his hands in anticipation. The strange light around the estate bothered him, though. “Are those demon lights?” he asked. “They look... wrong.”
Hyakkimaru said nothing. They passed under the gate and entered Lady Bandai’s estate.
Translator's Note
Dororo sees a similiarity between Lady Bandai’s name (万代) and 踏台, usually fumidai but can be read as bandai, which means “footstool.”
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