Pathway to Japanese Literature

I

Striking out with his war fan, he declared: “Iga’s Crescent Moon—the Thirty-Sixth Cut!”
Araki Mataemon Minamoto no Yoshimura—though Takuma Hyōrin’s account differs slightly, giving “Hidekuni” instead of the correct “Yasuyasu” for his imina even in this abbreviated form—cut down thirty-six hatamoto attendants with Miiike Denta Mitsuyo’s single swordstroke in a thudding manner, yet historical records reduce these attendants to a mere two.
To make matters worse, this peerless Araki Mataemon was being struck from behind on his lower back by a foot soldier wielding a club.
Takuma Hyōrin—a historical chronicle the author claims to have written after visiting Watanabe Kazuma in Tottori, though it contains occasional inaccuracies—takes this further into absurdity by having him struck twice on the head with a spear.
In any case, when Mataemon—the sole recipient of complete transmission among Yagyū Jūbei’s twelve thousand disciples (per kōshakushi chroniclers’ investigations)—gets struck about the hips and head by foot soldiers, it becomes utterly inexcusable before his mentor Jūbei. Moreover, it wholly fails to satisfy those very storytellers who’d shown favor by attributing thirty defeats to him—yet being factual, one cannot distort it.
To be fair, as Akutagawa Ryūnosuke would have it,

“Well you see—Mataemon knew it was just a stick, so he let them strike him.”

he explained—an interpretation made unexpectedly amusing through its display of the author’s wit.
Allowing oneself to be struck by a mere stick on occasion counted among martial arts precepts.

Among Hosokawa retainers who preserved Miyamoto Musashi’s Two-Sword Style existed a man called Tokō Taihei.
One day while walking through town, he found people gathered and clamoring.
Upon inquiring,

“A man who looks like a sumo wrestler cut someone down and fled into that vacant house over there, but they’re at a loss because they have no means to apprehend him,” they explained.

“Do you have anything that can break through the wall?”

When he asked, they brought a pestle.
After using it to make a hole in the wall, Taihei shuffled in rear-first.
It was truly a peculiar way to enter.
When Taihei captured the villain and handed him over to the people,

“Might I ask why you entered rear-first?”

When asked,

“Since I was staring blankly at that bastard doing such an odd thing, I could capture him right away. Besides, with the rear, even if you get slashed a bit, it’s no great matter.”

he answered.

Inferring from this anecdote about the rear, Araki’s lower back—

“A stick won’t do any real damage.”

Thus Akutagawa’s theory became properly substantiated.
However, it remained preferable not to get cut on the buttocks or lower back at all.
The ingenuity of entering rear-first and the resolve to accept minor cuts to one’s buttocks were conceptions and determinations achievable only by those who had internalized martial arts’ deepest secrets.
This was because Tokō Taihei had known his opponent.
Were one to ask whether he would again enter rear-first in such circumstances, he would likely have laughed it off as a foolish question.
At times he might have demolished the entire wall; at others passed by in silence.
Adapting to shifting circumstances and responding appropriately to each situation—this constituted the Essence of Swordsmanship.
This was also where Itō Ittōsai’s “Interval” found explanation.
When confronted with a situation—how to proceed?
When one had cultivated resolve at the decisive “Interval,” they might both “allow their rear to be cut while capturing [the opponent]” and “strike [the enemy’s] waist.”
They might even defeat formidable foes.
The “Interval” was not merely the “gap” when swords crossed one another; it was the decisive “Interval” when facing any sudden event—and only those with “cultivated resolve” could properly navigate this without error.
This cultivated resolve could be approached through the sword as well as through Zen.
Many swordsmen had been deeply devoted to Zen and delighted in what was called the profound concept of the Unity of Sword and Zen.
It could be approached through literature just as well as through visiting courtesans, or even through painting.
When Musashi stated that both painting and swordsmanship were ultimately one, this was what he meant.

Yagyū Tajima-no-kami Munenori, Araki Mataemon’s teacher, was a man who had attained that sublime realm in this regard.
Zen emphasizes the nothingness of mind, while swordsmanship values emptying the heart.
There were numerous instances—such as Mutō-ryū, Munen-ryū, and Musōken—that placed great importance on nothingness.

"If one fixates their mind on the opponent’s sword, the distance, or the timing, one’s own movements all become sluggish, and one may be cut down by others."
"If one fixates their mind on the enemy, they will be captured by the enemy’s mind; if one fixates their mind on oneself, they will be captured by their own mind—all these arise because fixation causes one’s movements to grow sluggish."

As stated in Takuan Sōhō’s "Immutable Wisdom," the ultimate principle lay in existing in a state of no-thought and no-mind—emerging from nothingness in response to the enemy and acting without limit.
To put it plainly: if one fixated on the enemy’s eyes, their sword became neglected; if one concentrated solely on their sword, their footwork faltered; if one focused on a single opponent, they grew vulnerable to enemies circling behind; and if one attended to front and rear, their flanks lay exposed. Since ultimately the mind could not remain fixed on any single thing without losing others, one resolved to become “nothing” and ceased observing the opponent altogether.
And thus within the 'interval' provided by the enemy did one act.
To become "nothing," one had of course to transcend life and death.
One needed first to secure the resolve to be ready to die at any time.
When Tokō Taihei—who had been discovered by Musashi—stood before Lord Hosokawa and was asked by Musashi—

“Your everyday resolve—”

When asked,

“I always intended to reside in the seat of death, but lately I’ve even forgotten about death itself.”
“I have nothing to say—but when asked thus, there’s no resolve left but to answer in this manner.”
When he answered, Musashi—

“This is what they call the Essence of Swordsmanship.”

There is a story that goes.
Araki Mataemon, being Munenori’s top disciple, also appears to have grasped these principles to some extent.
As for the matter of his lower back as well—since it occurred when he had cut down the formidable foe Sakurai Hanbei—

“The waist is acceptable.”

It could also be said that he allowed himself to be struck there.
At the very least, he fended off with his sword the underling who had struck his waist but did not cut him down—apparently not deeming him a worthy opponent.

“Careful, careful! Don’t get hurt—back off, back off!”

He might have said something along those lines.
That said, this was merely an explanation biased in Araki’s favor—in truth, he may have been caught off guard in a moment of carelessness.

II

“Master, whether to avenge a friend’s enemy depends on the depth of obligation; one does not avenge enemies of one’s own children or younger brothers.”

as appears in Yūshi Jōshinki (Brave Warriors' Chronicles of Constant Mind).
To slay Matagoro as vengeance for his younger brother Gentayu was impossible according to samurai common sense at that time.
That even Araki Mataemon joined as second and elevated his renown across the land was because this vendetta had taken on the character of a “lord-sanctioned execution” beyond merely avenging a younger brother.
Matagoro had been hidden by Andō Shirōemon—a shogunal retainer (identified in oral accounts as Abe Shirōgoro the storyteller)—who then provoked Lord Ikeda into confrontation,

This time, the bottom fell out of the Bizen mortar, leaving Lord Ikeda smeared with miso.

When even lampoons like this began circulating widely, Lord Ikeda Tadanao could no longer refrain from slaying Matagoro out of sheer pride.
Thus at the very moment when they were locked in fierce negotiations with the shogunate—with even the senior councilors overwhelmed—he died so suddenly that rumors of poisoning spread.
At death's threshold,

“Having clashed with the shogunal retainers and tarnished my name through blunders, I bitterly regret dying ere this matter is settled. Thus I leave these final words: Let no Buddhist memorial services be performed for me even in death. Offer up Kawai Matagoro’s head as my parting rite. Should this go unfulfilled, my resentment will know no rest even in the underworld of Yomi.”

Given that Lord Ikeda had left such emphatic final instructions, Kazuma’s resolve had to harden—and what had begun as vengeance for his brother now also encompassed the so-called “lord-sanctioned vendetta” carried out by their lord’s command.

March 1632,

“Any who shelter Kawai Matagoro for one night may do so, but those lodging him a second night shall be deemed criminals without exception.”

With this edict proclaimed, Matagoro could no longer remain in Edo. This decree aimed to restrain the hatamoto retainers following the violent death of one Ikeda lord. Now even Shirōemon could no longer conceal him. Were Matagoro to leave Edo, not only might any Ikeda clansman attack him—but with Araki Mataemon, Kazuma’s brother-in-law and Kōriyama’s famed swordsman, having joined as second—Matagoro stood in mortal peril. The samurai ethos of the Kan’ei era remained formidable indeed. Kawai Jinzaemon—who shared Araki’s household and served as Matagoro’s uncle—became a ronin to aid him, while Sakurai Hanbei, Matagoro’s brother-in-law,

“Even strangers among the hatamoto have gone to such lengths—how could I, bound by these ties, hold back?”

Having abandoned his 200-koku fief from Toda Samon Ujikane’s household, Sakurai Hanbei joined the vendetta.
This Sakurai Hanbei was a master of the cross-shaped spear—his mist-guard stance rendered him invincible wherever he fought.
Within his clan, he bore the sobriquet “Mist Hanbei,” a warrior of such renown when spear in hand.
At Kagi no Tsuji crossroads, Araki Mataemon—

“Do not let Hanbei grasp his spear!”

This also makes clear why he had Magobei and Takeemon confront him.

Matagoro had hidden in one or two places, but finding it untenable and with his master having died, it was decided he would return to Edo once more.
Despite the shogunate’s ban on entering Edo, if one were to slip in silently and remain hidden, there was no chance of being discovered—such was the hatamoto’s sympathy.
That was wiser than standing out and living in fear in the countryside.
Whether it was the Indian who fled into Tōyama Mitsuru’s residence and ultimately vanished, or the rumors—and facts—about Waseda’s Sano Manabu being hidden away somewhere, clinging to the sleeves of influential figures in Tokyo ensured safety then as it does now, with little having changed.
Araki sought to discern Matagoro’s movements primarily through Jinzaemon’s every action.
Jinzaemon was also an admirable man who embodied the samurai ethos of the Kan'ei era.
Since becoming a ronin out of duty to Matagoro, he had made it his practice to follow wherever Matagoro went.
Since Araki Mataemon and Jinzaemon belonged to the same household—and being unfamiliar with the enemy’s whereabouts—Araki had no choice but to exploit Jinzaemon’s stubborn insistence on positioning himself before Matagoro.
Jinzaemon knew this, but he possessed no strategy to avoid and conceal himself from it.
With stubborn pride and single-minded resolve, Jinzaemon intended to confront Araki Mataemon and cut him down.

III

Araki Mataemon learned that Jinzaemon had returned to Nara. Upon investigating, it seemed Matagoro was also with him. It was the perfect opportunity. However, at that time, the Nara town magistrate was Nakabō Hida-no-kami Hidemasa, who had been connected to shogunal retainers. If they were to attack recklessly, there would be no point—whether due to interference from the magistrate’s office or facing disadvantages afterward even if they succeeded; moreover, in the townhouses, townspeople and peasants might riot with unpredictable consequences. Thus they resolved to continue observing the situation as it stood.

This occurred on the fifth day of the eleventh month of Kan'ei 11 (1634). While various accounts exist, the truth likely lies in the version leaked from a groom’s lips.
An order came from Matagoro to have three horses prepared before dawn on the sixth.
The long-awaited opportunity finally arrived.
They sent out lookouts to observe the Kawai faction’s movements, and it was reported that they appeared ready to depart.
The four prepared themselves and resolved to follow the party’s trail.
They prepared chainmail undergarments and chainmail-reinforced headbands, then followed from seven or eight chō behind, keeping intermittently out of sight.

They killed out of samurai pride, concealed out of that same pride, and it was that pride that brought them here as reinforcements.Resolved to face any challenger at any time,Kawai Matagoro advanced—clad in chainmail—openly carrying his spear aloft in broad daylight.With three spears among three men,a gun,and a half-bow maintained with proper decorum，they advanced openly.Y oung retainers,pages，foot soldiers,and laborers—twenty in total—ascended the slope from Nara Hannyaji-guchi，proceeded through Kizu and Kasagi，and advanced along the Kasagi Highway.They entered Shimagahara at two o'clock in the afternoon on the sixth.In winter，when daylight was short，proceeding to the next post station was perilous.For those bearing enemies，early departures and early lodgings proved more essential than for ordinary travelers.They decided to lodge at an inn called Matsuya.Having confirmed this，Araki Mataemon arranged to station himself at Kashū Kanbei’s house，two blocks past Matsuya，to keep watch.Since they could not lodge near Matsuya，they settled through a horse dealer.Before dawn on the seventh，Araki departed.From then，it became a matter of selecting paths and positions.They needed concealed ground denying enemy escape routes while securing footholds for allies.Groping forward，they crossed Nagata River Bridge，traveled five chō，and reached Mitsutsuji in Ueno’s Oda-machi.Ueno was Tōdō territory，where Kazuma had acquaintances.Mitsutsuji—called Kagi no Tsuji—had a stone-walled dead end；Yoro-ya Kiueon’s tea shop stood at the right corner；turning right led into town via Tōyo-zaka slope.Kagi-ya San'emon occupied the left corner；turning there allowed passage from Kitataniguchi to the castle’s rear.

“This spot will do.”
“We can split left and right to conceal ourselves; once the path bends ahead, whatever follows becomes unknowable.”
“Here—by cutting off escape routes and having two attack from the front—we can trap them like rats in a sack.”
“Takeemon and Magobei: hide at Kagi-ya’s corner and cut down any fleeing enemies.”
“If Jinzaemon or Hanbei arrive first, you two attack them together.”
“I will cut down the last man and scatter the servants.”
“Kazuma—focus solely on Matagoro! Do not turn to others! I will single-handedly stop all the rest.”
“Let me stress this again: Takeemon—if Hanbei comes first—do not let him grasp that spear!”
“Whether you cut down Hanbei or his spearman—by any means—prevent that spear from being wielded!”
“The charge signal comes when I cut down the rear guard.”
“All three of you—strike your target simultaneously!”

Such were the instructions, it seems.
Since it was the early morning of November 7th, the sky hung wintry.
To await Matagoro’s party, the four entered Yoro-ya.
Despite the cold, highway-side merchants are open from five o’clock.

“Proprietor, it’s cold.”

With that remark, they stepped inside.
Since all four were Kamigata men, depicting this realistically would require—

“Uncle, it’s damn cold here, ain’t it?”

They might have said it that way, but regardless, such exchanges were recorded at this tea shop.

“Old man, quit starin’ so hard.”
“We look suspicious to ya?”
“A samurai steps over a threshold and enemies come waitin’, eh?”
“Chainmail undergarment—look at this hood! What d’ya think? All dressed up proper like this—ain’t I dashing? Just let a fight break out now—three or five of ’em, I won’t lag behind!”
“Proprietor—heat the sake hotter!”

Araki Mataemon reportedly kept demanding they heat the unfiltered sake hotter still.
Being a tea shop proprietor, he must’ve remembered clearly about the heating at least.
As he drank sake, Magobei occasionally stepped out front to watch for Matagoro’s approach.
From Nagatagawa Bridge ran a single road—stand on its span and you’d see clear to the tea shop.
The signal for enemy arrival was set as Magobei singing a folk song.

“I’m feeling good now, proprietor. I’ll give you this haori.”

“Good sir, you flatter me…”

“Here, take it. It’s a bit long.”

he said—but given that Araki Mataemon stood six shaku and two sun tall, had he worn it, the garment might have draped all the way down to his heels.

“Proprietor, shall I give you mine as well?”

With that, Kazuma removed his haori.
This was the elder brother of Gentayu, who was reputed to be the most handsome man in the Ikeda family.
From a genetic standpoint, it's said younger brothers tend to be more comely than their elders; yet in compensation, since older brothers are good-natured oafs of more relaxed disposition, Kazuma too must have been a fine-looking man.
Scarlet twill undergarments paired with a black twill crested kimono—the very picture of a dashing man's attire.

Being a Kan'ei-era folk song, it was likely an exceedingly languid piece with drawn-out intervals—something bearing traces of half-formed nō chants.
Though he'd drunk little sake, Magobei began swaying and singing at the shopfront.

They secured their sashes, tightened headbands, and checked their footing.

“Proprietor, the bill.”

Takeemon and Magobei stealthily positioned themselves beneath the eaves of Kagi-ya at the left corner, cutting off the enemy’s retreat at Kitataniguchi while simultaneously striking down the one leading the vanguard.
Araki and Watanabe concealed themselves in the small shadow of Yoro-ya and confronted Matagoro and his attendants.

IV

November 7, Kan'ei 11 - Hour of the Dragon, present-day eight o'clock in the morning.
At this moment, Araki attempts to return to Yoro-ya, so—

“Why?”

When he heard this,

“No, I overpaid by one mon. Normally it wouldn’t matter, but given these circumstances, I’d hate for people to think this Mataemon got flustered. I’ll just go retrieve it.”

There exists a tale that he spoke these words, but it seems apocryphal.

The party emerging at Nagatagawa Bridge was spearheaded by Toraya Kuzaemon—Matagoro’s brother-in-law and an Osaka townsman—who rode horseback at the vanguard while scanning his surroundings, stationed fifty meters ahead as their lookout.
Following him came Sakurai Hanbei—a twenty-four-year-old ronin formerly of Mino Province’s Toda clan—who directed his attendant Sanosuke to hold aloft his well-worn cross-shaped spear, kept his favored page Minatoe Seizaemon close by his mount’s flank, and trailed by Kan-shichi bearing a half-bow alongside Ichizō shouldering a spare quiver, his entire countenance brimming with the magnificent demeanor characteristic of a Kan’ei-era warrior.
Matagoro, likewise twenty-four years of age, advanced toward Ueno’s castle town along the straight road with his contingent of twenty—eleven retainers rigorously clad in chainmail undergarments, including his uncle Kawai Jinzaemon (forty-three and in his prime) securing the rear with an attendant called Kizō bearing a cross-shaped spear, a page Yosaku hefting a plain spear, and Kumazō in attendance—all accompanied by grooms and porters.

Araki Mataemon Yasuzumi, thirty-seven years old, wielded Kii no Kami Kanemichi—a formidable blade measuring two shaku seven sun from habaki to tip (81.8 cm). Whether cleaving flesh or crushing bone, this implement left no survivors.

Toraya Kuzaemon’s horse had long since passed beyond view; Sakurai’s mount now turned before Kagi-ya; and as Jinzaemon—commanding the rear guard—drew near Yoro-ya’s eaves—

“Jinzaemon!”

Before Araki’s thunderous cry had fully faded, his Kanemichi flashed. One great stride brought him within range as the blade severed Jinzaemon’s right leg mid-shout.

The man found neither time to dismount nor draw steel.

With precise footwork timed to his strikes, Araki flipped the descending blade in mid-motion—a seamless transition into an upward slash that buried steel deep in his opponent’s shoulder.

The technique defied ocular pursuit.

Kawai Jinzaemon’s hand froze on the hilt of his prized Dōtanuki as death claimed him undrawn.

To casually speak of “blade returns” belies their difficulty—what masters call the Flipping Swallow technique: a vertical feint shifting mid-strike into a torso slash when opponents raise their guard. Its variations prove limitless.

Arresting a strike’s momentum demands consummate skill—yet against seasoned foes who exploit that momentary pause for counterattacks, defeat becomes certain.

Only perfected masters could execute this deception—a full-force overhead feint dissolving into flickering reversal.

Initial strikes might be parried, but preparing for instant ripostes required transcendent ability.

Though ordinary opponents might draw blades after losing limbs against lesser swordsmen—this was Araki Mataemon. His downward cut flowed unbroken into returning slash, permitting no interval for response.

Two strokes sufficed for immaculate execution.

With Jinzaemon fallen and underlings scattering—

“Don’t interfere!”

At his thunderous bellow, they instinctively fled.

“Kazuma, I won’t lend you aid!”

With that declaration, he made it a duel between just the two of them and—while driving off the retainers—moved from Kagi-ya’s corner to engage Sakurai Hanbei.

This swift technique lay utterly beyond Kazuma’s capabilities.
He had stepped out together with Araki, but Matagoro too had been prepared for this moment.
No sooner had he seized the attendant’s spear than he used its momentum to leap nimbly leftward.

“Matagoro, prepare yourself.”

“Come then—bring it!”

Yoro-ya and Kagi-ya clattered their doors shut.
Odamachi erupted into chaos.
Kazuma had been trained by Mataemon and developed considerable skill.
Yet this marked his first duel with live blades.
Only when facing his enemy did he seem to properly steel his resolve.
Even as a beautiful youth, he remained a Kan'ei-era samurai through and through—now engaged in a remarkably spirited contest.
According to Takuma Hyōrin's records, Matagoro was a Shintō-ryū master who'd supposedly slain a cat demon in his youth. But just as these mythical beasts defied belief, so too did Matagoro's purported prowess.
When he killed Gentayu, he'd panicked—failing even to deliver the finishing blow before fleeing scabbardless.
That delinquent bravado might have let him cut someone once, but neither nerve nor skill proved noteworthy.
After two or three years' training since then, he now stood evenly matched with Kazuma—his sole advantage being spear over sword.
With equal skill between warriors, spear trumps blade.
Between spear certification and sword mastery licenses lies a full rank's difference—or so they say.

Matagoro took a middle stance.
Kazuma assumed the Yagyū School's middle guard stance—the spear tip and blade edge quivered tensely as each sought to deny the other any opening.
They glared at each other across two shaku of space, though from the spear side—as if initiating the attack—the tip would periodically lunge forward with a battle cry.
At each movement, the sword shifted in response.
Then the gleaming spear tip shot forth like a meteor toward his chest. Kazuma's Bizen Sukesada—two shaku five sun five bu—parried the strike, but the blade slipped beneath the chainmail to carve a deep wound across his chest.

"This is it," Kazuma thought.

"I don't mind dying—but in exchange, I will surely cut you down! Come at me!"

This was the resolve Mataemon had instilled—a desperate determination to abandon one's body and slay the foe. No sooner had Kazuma unleashed two or three short kiai shouts than he lunged toward Matagoro's guard.

The spear drew back and thrust forward in one fluid motion—a flash toward his chest. Kazuma seized its shaft with one hand while extending his body into an overhead strike, slashing straight down.

A spear holds advantage at distance but turns useless when closed upon. Releasing his grip, Kazuma leapt back—but as a hand grabbed his waist—he discarded the spear in his left hand and brought down the Sukesada in a second one-handed strike.

There remained no opening to block. With mutual hatred burning like fangs at each other's throats, Matagoro too let himself be cut as he suddenly struck toward Kazuma's forehead.

Though anticipating this sudden blow, Kazuma's adrenaline-charged body moved sluggishly—the blade grazing a line from ear to cheek.

Now neither could wield their swords properly anymore. So long as ragged breaths continued, they could only clash blades.

A skilled warrior might parry a spear thrust and end things with a fatal counterstrike—but disparities in skill made such resolution impossible.

Miyamoto Musashi,

“Using two swords is practice for making one hand function as both hands.”

This was precisely the situation he had described.
Had Kazuma’s one-handed strike achieved the same effect as his two-handed practice strikes, he might have retained his status as Ikeda’s foremost handsome retainer. But lacking this understanding, misfortune saw him sustain two wounds to his face.
Musashi therefore generally avoided duels using two swords.
He would always defeat his opponent with a single sword—one decisive strike.
This indeed demonstrated why he stood as the foremost figure in swordsmanship.
As for Mataemon, this account did not belong to the same day.

In this duel between the two, Kazuma sustained wounds in thirteen places while Matagoro received five. The Sukesada blade preserved by the Ikeda clan from this clash bore six cuts along its edge, testifying to the desperate struggle—yet according to accounts stating "three koku from the Hour of the Dragon," their duel was said to have lasted from nine in the morning until three in the afternoon. A full six hours—this seemed rather dubious. Araki Mataemon had taken no more than ten seconds to cut down Jinzaemon; he then immediately turned to Sakurai Hanbei and easily dispatched him—the entire affair lasting at most forty-five to fifty minutes. Even if one assumed an hour for the duel, it proved inconceivable that Mataemon spent the remaining five hours leisurely observing their match with heated sake. These three koku should rightfully be considered as encompassing the time from Jinzaemon's defeat until officials were dispatched, the wounded treated, and onlookers followed Mataemon to the magistrate's office.

When Sakurai Hanbei turned the corner at Kagi-ya, he heard Araki Mataemon’s battle cry. The instant he did, Takeemon slashed out from the shadows. With relentless sword strikes leaving no opening to grab his spear, Hanbei parried using his scabbard and nimbly dismounted backward from his horse. Magouemon—who had emerged alongside Takeemon—attacked Sansuke the spear-bearer, startling him into wildly swinging his weapon in all directions. Hanbei and Sansuke became locked in a stalemate, neither able to properly wield nor control the spear. Though shaken by the ambush, Sansuke proved himself a young retainer who had long served Hanbei. As Seizaemon drew his blade, Ichizō unsheathed his wooden sword. Despite their unsteady footing, they closed in from a distance with shouts of “Yaa! Yaa!”, driven by duty to their master. Takeemon had served Araki Mataemon extensively and was a competent swordsman, but not one who could single-handedly face three opponents. Moreover, while Hanbei lacked peerless skill with the spear, his swordsmanship still exceeded Takeemon’s.

“You knave, come at me!”

Hanbei raised his blade into a high overhead stance and darted forward with short steps. Takeemon retreated a pace—no sooner had he done so than his sword shifted to a middle guard.

“Hyagh!”

There was no chance to dodge; Takeemon’s shoulder was slashed open.
Magouemon, who had been facing Sansuke, abandoned his opponent and shouted:

“You!”

He struck from the side.

“Yaa!”

Even so, he could not immediately press forward when faced with this defensive stance.
Sansuke discarded his spear sheath and lunged at Magouemon—

“You damn beast!”

He struck the charging man once on the sleeve.
At that moment, Mataemon came running up.
With a blood-soaked Kinkaidō blade measuring two shaku seven sun in one hand, the six-shaku-tall Mataemon charged—the underlings could not withstand him.
Magouemon stood off-balance.

“Shit!”

The instant he cursed*, Sansuke—wielding a cross-shaped spear in a cowering stance—lunged at him; Magouemon countered with a single slash to his shoulder.
Because Sansuke had collapsed suddenly, Magouemon paused to catch his breath before moving to engage Hanbei.
Takeemon handed Hanbei over to Magouemon though his shoulder wound ran deep.
Though fighting on through agitation, Takeemon received another wound from Seizaemon.
Yet when they saw Mataemon arriving with Hanbei cornered, the underlings lost all will to fight.
Kanzō wandered about clutching his half-bow until Takeemon slashed his buttocks—sending him fleeing sideways—while Seizaemon grew unnerved by Takeemon’s desperate look and took a shoulder wound while fleeing pursuit.
Ichizō alone stood rigid by the stone wall with wooden sword in hand.
Takeemon drove off both men before slumping down exhausted.
Before Kagi-ya where Matagoro and Kazuma clashed blades—he tried joining but collapsed mid-step.
Regaining composure on a stone seat—sword-crutch useless—he could manage nothing.

Araki Mataemon, too, was exercising restraint because his opponent was Hanbei.
Both assumed the Middle Guard stance—the so-called mutual Middle Guard position.

“What’s happening here? Tell me, you there—is this a vendetta or a mere brawl?”

A voice came from the cliff at the dead end.
Though the voice reached neither Magouemon’s ears nor anyone else’s, Araki Mataemon remained utterly composed.

“It is a vendetta. A vendetta.”

he answered while staring intently at Hanbei.
However, his opponent could not be considered an old man.
In response to being questioned yet again, Araki Mataemon continued replying while pressing the tip of his spear against Hanbei’s sword with a click, steadily driving him back.
Had he been wielding his spear, the outcome might have differed, but with Takeemon’s desperate efforts denying any chance to retrieve it, Hanbei found himself an ill-suited swordsman.
While growing increasingly frustrated by the blade that pressed in without the slightest opening, he found himself being driven back step by step, gradually cornered.
Beneath the eaves lay a pile of dried pine needles for kindling, but he had been driven back to that very spot.
Hanbei’s heel caught on the scattered pine branches—in that *interval*,

“Hyah!”

He retreated a step with practiced awareness.
In that hair’s-breadth moment when his foot caught—toppling toward the pine needles—Kinkaidō came slashing at his shoulder.
As he collapsed heavily, Magouemon seized the opening to strike wounds above his ear and eye.
Watching with bated breath, Ichizō—forgetting himself when Kinkaidō struck—rushed forward.
The overhead-swung wooden sword thudded into Mataemon’s side.
With two layers of padding and his obi tightly fastened, he felt no pain.
As Mataemon swung back the second wooden sword,

“Watch out!”

He parried, but Ichizō—in a death frenzy—struck a third time at the detestable blade, Iga-no-Kami Kinkaidō.
Mataemon would later recount, “It was a lapse,” but even his formidable blade—thick and weighty as it was—snapped five sun (approximately 1.5 inches) above the hilt.
Mataemon too was startled, but Ichizō—unintentionally shocked—suddenly grew terrified and fled.

“Magouemon, do not deliver the coup de grâce.”

Having said this, Araki Mataemon ran to the front of Kagi-ya.

Five

Kazuma and Matagoro were merely standing there, using their swords as canes.
Their throars were already parched, and their breathing had become ragged.
Their fingers had stiffened, neither stretching nor bending.
Their palms ached, their swords felt lead-heavy, their eyes blurred and grew dazed—when one raised his blade, the other reflexively mirrored it, their movements now governed purely by reflex, resting only when exhaustion forced them to pause.

“Kazuma! Why can’t you finish him?”
“Is he not your sworn enemy of many years?”
“Fool!”

When Kazuma lifted his sword, Matagoro lifted his as well—but by now their bodies might no longer have been recognizable as human. With the weight of his slashing blade and Sukesada's sharpness, Kazuma severed Matagoro's left arm. Matagoro attempted a token block but collapsed with no means to resist.

“Finish that.”

As Kazuma delivered the coup de grâce while crumbling,

“Keep your wits about you. If you don’t hold yourself together, you’ll die right here.”

While showing concern, he led him beneath Kagi-ya’s eaves.

The town magistrate rushed to the scene. Araki Mataemon explained the circumstances. The wounded were treated. Each was taken under official guard to their respective quarters to await their superiors’ instructions. Araki Mataemon took Takeemon to Kazuma’s relative Hikosaka Kabe’s house to treat their wounds, drank water, ate a large meal, and slept until the officials arrived. Whether it be the Tōdō family retainers praising it, the Lord of Tottori feigning death to avoid returning to Kōriyama, its designation as one of the Three Great Vendettas, kōshakushi storytellers using it as a breadwinning topic, or Akutagawa Ryūnosuke declaring Mataemon the strongest—though apparently Mr. Akutagawa considered Benkei the mightiest of all—it is said that since Benkei is the strongest figure ever created by the Japanese, there exists none who can match him. Such sayings as “None can rival those who emulate Benkei” or “Benkei is the mother of genius” originated from this very context—.

Takeemon died after a while.
Sansuke and Hanbei also died a couple of days later.
Araki Mataemon sustained only abrasions.
It is said he died at forty-one, but according to the Tottori Domain’s private history and Watanabe family records, it appears he had been retained deep within the castle until much later.
The grave is located at Genchū-ji Temple on the outskirts of Tottori City.
Kazuma died on the second day of the twelfth month of Kan'ei 19 (1642).
The grave is located at Kōzen-ji Temple in Tori-tera-machi, Tottori.
Iwamoto Magouemon lived to seventy-three.
It is also located at Kōmyō-ji in Yamada Temple Town.
It is said that descendants of all three still exist to this day.
In Kōriyama, the site of Araki’s residence is preserved, and in Tottori too, traces remain discernible.
Kazuma's house also remains in Awaya-chō.
The grave of Kawai Matagoro is at Manpuku-ji Temple in Ueno’s Teramachi district, standing side by side with that of Kawai Takeemon at Nenbutsu-ji.
Nothing remains of the others.
Kagi-ya is still a tea shop today.
A monument stands at the site of the vendetta.