"I went to play by the river to-day, with a friend; and as he was rude
to me, I threw him into the water and killed him."
When his father heard him speak thus, quite calmly, as if nothing had
happened, he was thunderstruck, and said--
"This is indeed a fearful thing. Child as you are, you will have to
pay the penalty of your deed; so to-night you must fly to Yedo in
secret, and take service with some noble Samurai, and perhaps in time
you may become a soldier yourself."
With these words he gave him twenty ounces of silver and a fine sword,
made by the famous swordsmith Rai Kunitoshi, and sent him out of the
province with all dispatch. The following morning the parents of the
murdered child came to claim that Itarô should be given up to their
vengeance; but it was too late, and all they could do was to bury
their child and mourn for his loss.
Itarô made his way to Yedo in hot haste, and there found employment as
a shop-boy; but soon tiring of that sort of life, and burning to
become a soldier, he found means at last to enter the service of a
certain Hatamoto called Sakurai Shôzayémon, and changed his name to
Tsunéhei. Now this Sakurai Shôzayémon had a son, called Shônosuké, a
young man in his seventeenth year, who grew so fond of Tsunéhei that
he took him with him wherever he went, and treated him in all ways as
an equal.
When Shônosuké went to the fencing-school Tsunéhei would accompany
him, and thus, as he was by nature strong and active, soon became a
good swordsman.
One day, when Shôzayémon had gone out, his son Shônosuké said to
Tsunéhei--
"You know how fond my father is of playing at football: it must be
great sport. As he has gone out to-day, suppose you and I have a
game?"
"That will be rare sport," answered Tsunéhei. "Let us make haste and
play, before my lord comes home."
So the two boys went out into the garden, and began trying to kick the
football; but, lacking skill, do what they would, they could not lift
it from the ground. At last Shônosuké, with a vigorous kick, raised
the football; but, having missed his aim, it went tumbling over the
wall into the next garden, which belonged to one Hikosaka Zempachi, a
teacher of lance exercise, who was known to be a surly, ill-tempered
fellow.
"Oh, dear! what shall we do?" said Shônosuké. "We have lost my
father's football in his absence; and if we go and ask for it back
from that churlish neighbour of ours, we shall only be scolded and
sworn at for our pains."
"Oh, never mind," answered Tsunéhei; "I will go and apologize for our
carelessness, and get the football back."
"Well, but then you will be chidden, and I don't want that."
"Never mind me. Little care I for his cross words." So Tsunéhei went
to the next-door house to reclaim the ball.
Now it so happened that Zempachi, the surly neighbour, had been
walking in his garden whilst the two youths were playing; and as he
was admiring the beauty of his favourite chrysanthemums, the football
came flying over the wall and struck him full in the face. Zempachi,
not used to anything but flattery and coaxing, flew into a violent
rage at this; and while he was thinking how he would revenge himself
upon any one who might be sent to ask for the lost ball, Tsunéhei came
in, and said to one of Zempachi's servants--
"I am sorry to say that in my lord's absence I took his football, and,
in trying to play with it, clumsily kicked it over your wall. I beg
you to excuse my carelessness, and to be so good as to give me back
the ball."
The servant went in and repeated this to Zempachi, who worked himself
up into a great rage, and ordered Tsunéhei to be brought before him,
and said--
"Here, fellow, is your name Tsunéhei?"
"Yes, sir, at your service. I am almost afraid to ask pardon for my
carelessness; but please forgive me, and let me have the ball."
"I thought your master, Shôzayémon, was to blame for this; but it
seems that it was you who kicked the football."
"Yes, sir. I am sure I am very sorry for what I have done. Please, may
I ask for the ball?" said Tsunéhei, bowing humbly.