Pathway to Japanese Literature

Part I When birds have their nests burned and beasts their dens overturned, what manner of state would they be in?

Unable to even properly raise mournful cries, their vacant eyes moving without purpose, the birds thrust their heads into thickets and clumps of grass, waiting with aching hearts for the dawn sky. The beasts—now dashing about in sudden panic with what might be called terrified hearts, now widening fearful eyes as they shuffled along with hesitant steps—never forgot to keep their jaws clenched and claws tensed in dreadful readiness, whether to bite or strike should the need arise. Having passed through Ōnin, Bunmei, Chōkyō, and Entoku, it was now the beginning of December in the second year of Meiō. In those times, from the highest—the Shogun and Shogunal Deputies—down to the lowliest commoners, how many must have become pitiful birds and beasts?

This was a quiet though not quite outlying district of Sakai in Senshu Province—a place that served as a vital hub for both open and clandestine trade with Ming China, Korea, and the southern seas, making it a land of great wealth at the time. The snow that had begun falling from evening came down steadily—a rare sight in this warm region—and though now well past early nightfall, still fell lightly, not yet ready to cease. One side opened wide, perhaps continuing into vegetable fields, with small thatched huts dotted here and there between them. The other side was lined with splendidly tall fences, along which ran a small drainage ditch—the back street of a grand residence.

Through the snow in such a place where not a soul would pass at this hour—as if entirely unaware of cold or loneliness—a figure came walking from the countryside with bold composure and leisurely ease. What could be wandering such a place at this hour—some pitiful bird or beast? Even if not a small bird, could it be a beast that does not have a warm cave waiting for it eventually? Having gathered one end of a thin mat into a bundle to serve as both hat and raincoat, draping it triangularly over his head, he had just now looked up at the sky and taken three or four leisurely steps when he must have concluded that finally, the snow would let up,

“Tch!”

And with that, he tore it off and flung it violently toward the open space on the left side of the road. How irritating it must have been for him to have worn such a wretched, dirty little thing even temporarily; so instead of feeling gratitude toward it, he likely vented his anger by hurling it away to relieve his frustration. Indeed, someone had provided this wretched thing somewhere from the very start intending for him to discard it—and he had undoubtedly worn it all along with every intention of throwing it away. He quickened his pace. The snow had been wet and heavy from the start. Thud—the snow packed between his geta's teeth caught his foot, and he nearly tumbled headlong. But with nimble body movements and skillful shifts of footing, he managed to stagger a few steps before planting his feet firmly.

“Tch!”

This time, he harshly rebuked himself for his own carelessness. He must have been quite agitated within, his ill will desperate to erupt. Scolding did nothing to dislodge the snow; it only hardened further, clinging stubbornly between his geta's teeth. Then, glancing up, he noticed what appeared to be a small plank bridge spanning the ditch, and stepped onto it trusting in the bridge’s sturdiness—but a single footfall revealed it to be no plank bridge at all, rather an elegant construction of brushwood layered with earth. No sooner had he thought This won’t do than he crossed over and struck his geta against the lower board of the small gate at its end. Though rough, he paid no heed.

“Thud, thud, thud.” As he kicked, the snow came loose and fell away neatly. The left foot was taken care of. Now for the right one—he drew his left foot back slightly and— “Thud, thud.”

And kicked. Thud—the moment the firmly packed snow finally came loose, the gate silently swung open ajar. As it opened, the snow within appeared faintly white to the eye. The man couldn’t help but startle.

But he neither fled nor spoke. His body remained as it was; even when taken by surprise, his mind had already righted itself. On his part, he did nothing; the moment was filled solely with observing her move. However, she showed no hesitation; as she drew closer, she wordlessly extended her hand, took his in a gentle grasp, and attempted to lead him inside. The hand he touched was warm; it was supple. Its strength was gentle; indeed, it was the hand of a refined woman. At this, the man was startled again. But he did not flee, and he did not speak.

“Let me crash against whatever fortune comes—I want to see the true visage of this thing called fate.” Had such resolve not been fixed in his daily being, he could never have comported himself thus; yet the man permitted himself to be drawn inward.

The woman deftly locked the gate. The latch appeared to be of fine quality—it made little sound when closed and seemed securely fastened. The clouds released their remaining snow in scattered flurries. With one hand, the woman held an enormous bamboo hat—the kind used in tea ceremonies for outdoor gatherings—over the man to shield him from snowflakes, while her other hand took his and guided him with ceremonial care. They followed a straight stone path through what was less a garden than a modest open space until confronting a large building blackened by snowfall ahead. The structure's left and right wings protruded outward while its center receded inward, forming a deep veranda that terminated at what might be called the main entrance. Arriving there where no interior lights burned and exterior snow-glow faded away—standing in utter darkness guided solely by the woman's hand—the man felt unavoidable unease creep through him.

However, with the reassurance of “so be it,” the man followed the woman through what appeared to be a small door within the large gate, entering while keeping his attention solely on his footing. The woman quickly re-secured the lock. After passing through a small earthen-floored area, he parted with the geta that had carried him into tonight’s strange fate and ascended upstairs. The woman must have set aside the bamboo hat somewhere without him noticing—when he realized this, the man started once more, astonished by her deftness. They passed through the plank-floored area. The woman briefly raised his hand. He understood. It’s just the height of a tatami’s thickness, he realized. He proceeded step by step without stumbling. In this turbulent age, wealthy mansions were designed with frequent elevation changes—a deliberate measure to hinder unfamiliar intruders attempting stealthy infiltration.

Passing through several rooms, they finally advanced deep into the interior without making a single sound. He still saw no lamplight, but soon a rich fragrance wafted through the air. It was not aloeswood, but a sweet fragrance said to be a rare foreign import. The woman gestured for him to sit here. She gave what seemed a slight nod, then departed in silence.

The man plopped down onto a slightly firm cushion thought to be of foreign-woven fabric. In the corner of the room, though the charcoal fire did not show its face, its presence was known, and the room was faintly warm. This was quite the house. The inner quarters might be deserted like this, but at the front, there must surely be suitable men—individuals with both brawn and brains. As I wondered what visage fate would assume when revealing itself—even amidst this utter darkness—my eyes strained wide into the blackness, and my hand instinctively moved to my left waist. But immediately reconsidering—though I didn’t know what visage fate would assume when appearing before me—I formed a smirk as if declaring, "I’ll show fate this face of mine."

At that moment, from the upper room came rustling footsteps—stealthy yet perceptible to the man’s senses—no—rather than that, vermilion candlelight suddenly flared forth, followed by what appeared to be the woman from earlier emerging with a silver candlestick in hand, and then a beautifully dressed woman enveloped in sandalwood fragrance appeared. Yet without even properly exchanging glances with each other,

“Ah!” The woman from before was startled, nearly dropping the candlestick as her knees and waist buckled, throwing herself facedown to hide her features completely. He smirked. And the man laughed. The Mistress was indeed every bit the mistress. She, too, nearly fell backward in shock, but barely managed to steady herself. And in that very posture—still standing—she glared down at him with eyes filled with hatred and fury. Ferocious, severe, cold—eyes like shards of ice emitting a harsh light. However beautiful they were—they were eyes that held the beauty of evil.

“He smirked.” The man laughed. Like a tarnished mirror reflecting dimly, he gazed up at the mistress with dull intensity. Not yet thirty, her plump flesh lay beneath a thin layer of skin flushed crimson from agitation—yet through the white powder coating her face, she possessed an un-Japanese beauty. Every feature—eyes, nose, mouth, ears—stood flawless; eyebrows slightly groomed contrasting with hair cascading loose like a noblewoman’s, lending her an air of regal arrogance. The man scrutinized by the mistress’s piercing glare—could he be a night thief?—bore a broad forehead and high nose, upturned eyes beneath sparse brows, ears with underdeveloped lobes, sparse beard bristling along a jutting jawline. His coarse hair hacked short without semblance to a tea whisk clashed with shabby townsman’s garb ill-fitting his frame—a single short sword at his waist compounding the enigma. Lean yet formidable, shabby yet hinting at former command; now a bandit yet radiating stubborn pride and volatile temper—an utterly inscrutable figure defying comprehension. That eerie man—before—

“He smirked.” He laughed and kept his expression unchanged; faced with this wooden figure of a smirk—confronted by that “smirk”—her hatred and fury gradually crumbled from within. Truly, those who rage can be known; those who laugh cannot be fathomed. Those who have desires are weak—not worthy of fear; those who have none are strong—beyond all reckoning. The unfathomable became terror, and terror led to the urge to flee. Though neither accused nor extorted, being in this man’s presence had become unbearable, and she attempted to retreat. But when she saw the servant prostrate in tears before her, there—the woman suddenly became enraged,

“You.”

she said in a small yet scolding voice. “…”

“…………”

“……” Though it had been a brief span of time, it felt agonizingly long to the woman, who suffered in the desolate silence as though traversing the ten trillion lands of Buddhist torment. But now, upon being addressed with “You”—whether it was a harsh rebuke or not—it was as if a lifeline had been revealed amid certain death, or a lantern lit in pitch darkness. Abruptly, she raised her tear-streaked face,

“Yes,”

she answered, but upon seeing the current state of affairs, burst into fresh, streaming tears and, “I must deeply apologize for my negligence.” “Having received Your Ladyship’s instructions, and with the items remaining exactly as delivered to the other party… I beg you to punish me in whatever manner you deem fit… As for your side—even should I forfeit my life—I humbly entreat you to accept this resolution, and if I may so act…” It seemed she had formulated her thoughts while prostrate in tears until now, for she stated her heartfelt intentions without faltering. The truth had surfaced plainly—the absence of lies or pretense evident in her ceaseless tears—and with desperate earnestness, she studied the man’s face, grappling with how to handle this intruder. She was a splendid young woman—her striking features above the common lot, her pure heart yet untainted by the world, singularly devoted to loyalty. However, this woman’s words had laid bare the mistress’s recent actions. And she looked directly at him once more.

“He smirked.” Encountering this wooden carving of a man, she could not help but harbor grave misgivings about whether this was someone she could manage herself, thus finding herself facing new tribulations. The mistress’s fury appeared to have somewhat abated, but as the passion ebbed, space emerged for ice-cold scrutiny—or so it seemed.

“Even if you were to throw away your life,” she sneered with a cold laugh, “what do you intend to accomplish?”

As she said this with a sneer, the woman became agitated,

“Yes, even if this humble one were to truly throw away my life,”

she said urgently, but the mistress “No—more importantly—” Then, beckoning the servant woman closer, she brought her mouth to the woman’s ear and whispered something. The woman, understanding her intention, circled around the screen and withdrew to the inner chambers; the mistress, unable to remain standing any longer, took advantage of the moment to sit down. Before long, the woman brought forth an uncertain but substantial amount of gold and silver, placed on a lacquered sanbō tray lined with hōsho paper, and set it before the man. “Due to my carelessness, I mistakenly detained your esteemed presence, and for this I am truly remorseful.” “Though it is but a trifling amount, I humbly offer this recompense for having disrupted your affairs.” “I earnestly entreat you to accept this offering and deign to withdraw as you see fit.”

Having cleverly phrased her appeal and pressed her fingers to the floor in a bow, the mistress simultaneously inclined her head slightly in acknowledgment.

Then the "nittari" smirk ceased to be a "nittari". He appeared to sway unsteadily as if violently jolted, but as anger and sorrow intertwined, they coalesced into a single solemnity—an unassailable solemnity—and, “Hm.”

He let out a breath as though having reached an impasse. From his solemn face radiated formidable dignity. Both the mistress and the woman were struck by this dignity; unable to fathom it in any way, they had no choice but to lower their eyes. The gold and silver that had glinted in the candlelight now occupied no one’s thoughts. He was a man who offered utterly no clues for interpretation—to neither the mistress nor the woman.

“You wretches.”

And from the mouth of the man in nondescript clothing came a single haughty word—ill-suited to his appearance. However, the two were overwhelmed and aghast—it was a voice of middling pitch, yet clear and pleasant. “What an admirable bunch you are.” Having been praised where they might have expected rebuke, the two likely felt a peculiar sensation—as though their bare backs were being stroked by the slimy touch of a live clam. “To personally safeguard treasures of such magnitude, or to let servants handle them at whim—such is their usual grandeur, their unshakable trust in those beneath them… Ah, a true master cannot exist without such qualities! One so exemplary you’d wish to claim them as your own lord… And yet such a paragon is nowhere in the world—only here…”

It was not a conversation directed at them. His words formed a lament of indignation and grief toward this present age—where masters distrusted their vassals and retainers held no faith in their lords. Hearing this unexpected rebuke, the mistress could do nothing but falter in confusion. “However, you self-styled paragons here.” “Even driving yourselves to such heights of excellence must have begun with your own self-aggrandizement.” “Ugh! How detestable!” A pallid fire seemed to blaze from his eyes. Though understanding nothing, the mistress found herself pierced by that flash of light and instinctively shut her eyes.

“This woman too—eloquent at mediation, thoroughly capable with underlings." “Moreover declaring she’d throw away her life—that unwavering resolve! Ah—what an admirable ‘samurai,’ this darling paragon of loyalty.” “One entrusted by others could never attain such heights.” “She’s someone you’d keep as household staff even at great expense…… Yet in this pitiful world—bereft of proper teachings, blind to fundamental truths—the loyal commit disloyal acts, marching to their deaths convinced of their own fealty.” “Good people and good people discarding lives—that’s what rends the world asunder.” “Ugh! Infuriating!”

There had been no reply of the sort the two had anticipated, but by now they were beginning to dimly grasp what manner of man this intruder was. However, as they remained unable to fathom how they would be treated, their growing awe plunged them ever deeper into bottomless terror.

The man slowly surveyed the four corners of the room. Folding screens, room dividers, cabinets, furnishings—all were astonishingly luxurious. The alcove scroll was a large polychrome Chinese-style painting; the side shelves—though their contents were not immediately discernible—held small, precious-looking objects likely imported from China, while on the lowest shelf lay a large, beautiful box-like object, upon which rested a flute of apparent lineage—whether a Japanese piece or otherwise unclear—enshrined upon purple silk. The two women followed the direction of the man’s gaze, but the man gradually reverted to his “nittari” smirk. Without missing a beat, the servant woman timidly,

“I humbly beseech you to forgive this humble one’s blunder, and shall make amends in whatever manner you deem fit.” When she said this, his response came with unexpected gentleness, “I forgive you.” he declared without explanation. The two let out a sigh of relief—but in that very instant, “Your carelessness is no trivial matter.” “However, as for the master of this house—” He began to say, then abruptly stopped short. Because it became clear that when he said “master,” he was referring to the true master who was not present here, the two felt their hearts leap once more.

“In truth, he is my close acquaintance, you see.” The words were stated. They were as shocked as if struck by a great bell. Whether this was lie or truth remained unclear, but with matters having come to this, they had no way of knowing what outcome awaited them—and so their very bodies burned and froze anew. The man, seeing this, transformed his smirk into a broader, more lingering grin, “Ha ha ha, worry not—the master is beyond the sea at present. Be at ease. There’s no path to report tonight’s outcome even if one tried. Until he returns, you wretches might as well dwell in an unassailable castle. Do as you please, you wretches. If pleasure you seek, then take it. I’ll not hinder you—count it virtuous charity. Until the master’s return, no bond exists between me and you wretches. He will return. Very well. What airs you assume! We’ve no use for each other. Do as you damn well please, you wretches. Ha ha ha ha ha ha! While His Excellency the Shogun held court at Kawachi Shōkaku-ji’s august encampment, they set courtesans from Katsura to entertain him—all one and the same, ha ha ha ha ha ha!”

he laughed derisively. The two pressed their heads to the tatami and apologized. Meanwhile, the man stood up, quickly stowed the flute in his robe, and started walking.

Traces of snow-soiled leather tabi toes were imprinted across the beautiful blue tatami.

Middle

Sakai had prospered since the days of the Northern and Southern Courts. In the nineteenth year of Shōhei, the Analects were published here by a man named Dōyū, and the fact that other works such as the Wen Xuan were also produced speaks to how this place had already become a prosperous settlement abundant in culture. After Yamana Ujiyoshi became the military governor of Senshu Province, establishing his base here under the name Senpu, during the Ōei era, Ōuchi Yoshihiro was granted this land by the shogunate. Ōuchi was a major daimyo in western Japan, and since it served as a strategic hub connecting Shikoku, Chūgoku, Kyushu, and other regions to Kyoto, it achieved significant development politically, in transportation, and economically, growing ever more prosperous. Whether because Ōuchi was a possessor of Western knowledge, or because Sakai’s residents had acquired such knowledge through foreign commerce, castles in the country typically stood isolated—many located outside towns—and towns themselves customarily lacked any defenses; yet Sakai was surrounded by moats, its entrances and exits guarded by formidable gates, giving the entire city the appearance of a Chinese walled fortress. Such structures in an age of civil strife naturally led the people to realize both the advantage and pressing necessity of governing themselves.

Those engaged in foreign trade at the time were naturally among the city’s wealthiest individuals, possessing both knowledge and ability, and thus influence; they also had some military force—though it would be odd to call it such—consisting of retainers and servants who served as their private troops, enabling them to actualize their power. Thus, whether their influence came to reign over community-minded citizens or whether citizens themselves united around that influence and rejoiced in securing stable, prosperous lives for themselves, in time a form of autonomous governance took shape, leading people to entrust municipal affairs to a group of several wealthy merchants and influential families within the city. To maintain gate authority and secure peace by preventing disturbances and dangerous incidents within the town, it became necessary to endow them with police-like authority. They were also granted authority over civil litigation disputes and criminal adjudication that were not overly serious or occurring between samurai. They had entrusted to them the handling of tax and labor impositions from public authorities along with related negotiations. In truth, such quasi-public intermediaries arose from necessity in a large, vibrant town striving to prosper—and indeed, compared to feudal magistrates as fickle as cat’s pupils—magistrates of this war-torn age who viewed people merely as taxpayers—these intermediaries may well have loved their land more deeply, worked for its benefit, and brought happiness to its people. Thus whether Ashikaga shogunate, provincial lords, or magistrates, all gradually came to acknowledge this arrangement. These people were then referred to as the Warehouse Guild or Warehouse Lessee Guild, and when membership was fixed at ten men, names like Ten-Man Warehouse Guild emerged. Naya meant warehouses. At a time when transportation remained inconvenient and commercial institutions underdeveloped, reliable warehouses were nearly this great trading hub’s sole necessity—this went without saying. The Warehouse Guild likely leased many trusted warehouses while providing commercial conveniences for stored goods; thus they undoubtedly served public good and private profit alike. It may be that Sakai’s Kojima Tarōzaemon, Yukawa Sen’a, Kojima Saburōzaemon—early foreign traders—became Warehouse Guild ancestors. Moreover, nearly all Guild members traded with Korea, Ming China, and South Seas regions—managing vast capital without shunning risk: dispatching ships across thousands of leagues or personally undertaking inspection voyages. Such endeavors required extraordinary individuals; even those stripped of wealth needed formidable courage and sound business acumen to command head clerks, assistants, ship captains, and shrewd operators or roughnecks. Thus revered and trusted by townsfolk, Guild and citizens mutually sustained one another—Sakai’s prosperity grew monthly and yearly. Later during Tenshō era appeared figures like Rōsuke Sukezaemon—Luzon trader who built mansions later converted into Daian-ji temple—also among Warehouse Guild ranks. When Miyoshi clan ruled Sakai during Eiroku era they were called Thirty-Six Council with Notoya Enjiya as head. As for Nobunaga—when centralizing authority—he so detested Guild obstinacy that he killed them and displayed severed heads to terrorize populace by necessity. But expounding later matters or Warehouse Guild’s Sakai role would be superfluous—this tale concerns events two years prior in Entoku’s third year. After Ōuchi Yoshihiro’s death Sakai became Hosokawa territory—yet even Hosokawa Masamoto—shrewd practitioner of Iizuna-tsukai sorcery feared as ruthless wizard—could not quell disputes despite appointing trusted vassal Yasutomi Motoie as Nan-no-Shō magistrate; neither Masamoto’s authority nor Motoie’s renown sufficed. Yasutomi held great Hosokawa house import: during Ōnin upheaval Yasutomi no Tsuna had desperately targeted and struck down several Yamana faction generals to claim victory. Though killing again at Shōkaku-ji battle Yasutomi Kishirow threatened enemy commander Yamana Sōzen—forcing aged great monk into sweat-drenched desperate struggle.

That even Motoie of the illustrious Yasutomi house—emerging under the authority of Shogunal Deputy Hosokawa Masamoto—had failed to quell [the disputes] could only mean the Warehouse Guild had dug in their heels. In this city of towering pride—a mercantile colossus where cunning bellies stretched their reach from Joseon and Ming China to Ryukyu and the southern seas' edge; where merchants coiled like serpents in their dens, exhaling peculiar trade winds that mingled with salt air; where none dared openly oppose magistrate or squalling child, yet whose people privately viewed those war-torn tax-hungry officials as infants bawling for sweets; where culture flourished and arts outshone even Kyoto's—there, south along Sakai's Ōji Street among Minami-no-Shō's stately homes, stood Enjiya's residence: foremost among Warehouse Guild magnates. Within its innermost sanctum—a delicate chamber overlooking an inner garden—sat a man by a brazier's warmth. Fifty-some years old, his ruddy face glowed with scrubbed cleanliness above prosperous jowls, features arranged in perpetual benignity.

“Hmm.” He listened with casual indifference, as though to say “Is that all?” His tone dismissed it all as trivial. The woman prostrated herself on the lower seat with utmost deference—not merely due to her status as a servant—but her trembling from fear and sorrow was evident even in the small ripples forming at the center of the cord binding her lowered head’s topknot. Moreover, she appeared consumed by the desperate urgency of her petition. “…………”

“…………” Both parties remained wordless for a time. Though Enjiya wore an air of carelessness, within his large, monk-like domed forehead—glossy and imposing—he was likely turning over some calculation; his expression remained amiable, yet his eyes watched with a piercing gaze fixed on the woman’s lowered head. The Servant Woman, perhaps unable to endure the lack of any responsive words to her own proposal, finally lifted her head slightly. The glistening in her pleading, anguished eyes and the crimson of the young woman’s flushed cheeks when her heart strained—it was a sight that would have moved anyone who saw her.

“I humbly beseech you—if that is indeed the case—to employ your esteemed influence and retrieve that item ere… his lordship’s return.”

And once more, she lowered her head with utmost sincerity. And then, “That his lordship’s return draws near is, as Your Honor well knows.” “When he returns, given that his daily treasured item—the one he habitually handles—has not been played with for some time, he will surely go straight to it. Should his treasured possession be missing then, My Lady will have no excuse to offer, and who knows what calamity may follow.” “My Lady’s grave concern is no ordinary matter.” “Therefore, My Lady’s most earnest request—believing it to be a matter of life and death—is that you arrange for its return to my hands, ere…”

The phrase "a matter of life and death," though spoken in a low voice, could not fail to strike the ear. “What, a matter of *life and death*?” Though Master Enjiya had merely lightly admonished her for using such elevated language, for the woman—who must have felt her words had struck true—her spirits seemed to lift, and she pressed on with growing fervor.

“As you say.” “If his flute is truly missing, then even those such as this humble one would face…” “Ah, I’ve long known Lord Son-in-law treasures that flute as irreplaceable… but ’tis merely an old instrument.” “Hahaha! Why would my daughter’s life hinge on something like that?” “Go back and tell her I’ll make my apologies—no need for concern now.” “They say women grow timid when wed, but that girl in her maiden days was a headstrong sort who caused no small trouble—yet seeing how deeply she values Lord Son-in-law, she’s become remarkably womanly now.” “That’s fine—it’s all because they’re such an attentive couple.” “Hahaha.”

“…………” “Don’t you grasp it yet?” “Listen well—I forcibly borrowed it here, and though they mock that rain after seven days and arts learned past fifty never amount to anything, I kept practicing diligently anyway. Then I took it out to some deserted place and dropped it on my way back. When I noticed and searched, it was nowhere to be found. If I press my hands to the floor and apologize profusely, Lord Son-in-law might puff his cheeks in anger, but there’ll be nothing he can do.” “Very well—I’ll dispatch someone to Kyoto. Once they track down leads and visit five or six houses of impoverished nobles, they’ll find a famed flute resembling that one—no, far superior, like what Atsumori or some lord once owned—and acquire it effortlessly with coin.” “I’ll give that as a replacement and offer a brief apology.” “That will settle everything neatly.” “Even if Lord Son-in-law remains dissatisfied deep down, one can’t claim his surface anger won’t subside.” “If the substitute item is splendid enough, he’ll be doubly pleased and contrite.” “You understand? … Return and relay this properly.”

She had circumstances she couldn’t speak of openly; having mentioned only the matter of the flute, she found herself masterfully outmaneuvered in this manner, and now the woman was utterly cornered. Even if she wanted to speak, she could not. “…………”

She did not know what would be proper to say. But no matter what, returning empty-handed like this would serve no purpose. In this state, no matter what, she could not return. Though the moss bed teemed with ramie fibers, the torment lay in finding no suitable thread end to extract. No—the thread was clear, and pulling it out would bring resolution, yet she could not draw it forth, compelled instead to seek another thread—one that surely did not exist—her heart writhed in helpless torment.

“…………”

Unable to lift her head, unable to utter a sound, petrified as stone—even Master Enjiya, confronted by this unexpected state, at last began to sense something beyond his comprehension. That sensation grew steadily deeper. And here he was—tormented by the anguish of not knowing where to aim the very weapon he relied upon, for though there was no doubt a demonic target for the arrows of his intellect lurking within this situation, its location eluded him; and further enraged by the humiliation of having just now loosed an arrow only to have it lodge uselessly in empty air, striking nothing at all. Master Enjiya was no longer quite himself. Even so, he refrained from raising his voice to a shrill pitch, treating this pitiable woman with a gentle air as though tending to her.

“Would that approach be inadequate?” he asked. It was a tone that could only come from one who had undergone astonishing training in the arts of social navigation. She, drawn in by his tone and strongly oppressed by the self-awareness that she could not say “That would be bad,” found herself unintentionally— “Y-Yes.” As she answered—though muffled—she burst into violent sobs. Her anguish exploded. “Everything—absolutely everything—arose from my terrible oversight.”

There was nothing to do but blame herself—yet no sooner had she begun than the realization that self-reproach alone would not suffice surged up from the depths of her chest,

“My Lady has been subjected to severe hardship.” “Should the man who took that flute present it as evidence to Lord Master upon his return and speak ill of My Lady’s conduct—with such proof in hand—there would be no escaping it. My Lady would face dire consequences.” “That is why I desperately came to beg your esteemed self—whose authority permits free action—to retrieve it by any means necessary.” “If you command this humble one to die, I would gladly perish here or anywhere—only I implore you, grant this request.”

And—floundering incoherently—she insisted that no substitute item could serve any purpose. Without knowing what hidden circumstances were at play, yet sensing something of grave import, Master Enjiya now adopted a troubled expression.

“Well now.” He let slip a single brusque phrase, but then fell silent for a time. His eyes had become half-closed. Yet his face had not yet contorted into a pained expression—it merely bore the heavy look of one contemplating a Go move. “What manner of man is he who took it? His facial features—” “A broad forehead, a high nose—long upturned eyes with a sharp gaze, ears that seemed to lack lobes, a slender chin forming an overall elongated face—thin mustache above and sparse beard below—tall and slender in stature.”

“Hmm—… Was he a ronin or a townsman?” “His status was that of a townsman, but he carried a short sword.” “Your discerning self has rightly concluded he is a ronin…” As she was questioned, the woman answered. It was not to condemn that, “Both my daughter and you—why did you let someone you know so well take such an important thing?” When the doubt that should naturally arise was posed in his natural tone, the woman stiffened, cornered— “It was due to my unthinkable blunder.”

She took all blame upon herself and brought matters to a close. And then, overcome by poignancy, she ended up weeping. Master Enjiya's face fell into perplexity and clearly began to contort in visible distress. However, “Now, now—I am not blaming you.” “I ask only because I cannot grasp the situation.” “So you recognize his face but naturally don’t know his name.” “He’s not someone you’ve known for some time, I see.” Though claiming not to blame her, he pressed the accusation.

“Yes.” “Yes.” “It was taken by someone I first saw that very night.”

she answered.

“Hmm—” “There’s no reason you all would knowingly let it be taken.” “This household has measures against sneaking in—even in these troubled times, were two or three intruders to break in, we keep guards to prevent easy theft.” “So you recognized his face yet claim someone unknown stole something vital? Hmm—” “Thus everything stems from your dreadful oversight—na.” “Burdened by guilt, you’d even give your life—na.”

“Yes—if there be any way this humble one might prove of service to that revered personage, even at this very moment…”

She raised her crimson face, her glistening eyes straining with desperate resolve as she glanced at the old master—but in an instant, she crumpled to the ground. Her hair cascaded from the nape of her neck, its ends disheveled. Truly, even if told her head would be taken now, she showed no sign of retreating.

The sincerity of one’s heart is a force imbued with divine power. The sincerity of this woman’s heart must have resonated within the old master’s heart. The master’s face had lost all traces of sweetness and bitterness, leaving only a correct, resolute seriousness. It was filled with the radiant authority of a solemnity that transcended profit and loss, seeking only correct interpretation and judgment.

“And is there concern that this man intends to inform your son-in-law of something?” “What matter?” “What matter…” The tip of the arrowhead touched the very center of the target. The woman could do nothing. She could do nothing but hold her breath, as though resolved to die then and there.

“…………”

“…………”

A dreadful silence continued for a time. And though that silence was truly but a moment, it seemed as long as three asamkhyeya kalpas. "Chirp, chirp, chir-chirp."

Two or three sparrows that had flown into the garden trees hopped from branch to branch following one another, chirping amiably as though exchanging stories. "Informing... evidence... this will lead to catastrophe... Hmm—" The master—who had been muttering these fragments under his breath—suddenly

“Ah!”

he was plunged into great turmoil—as if struck down by something terrifying—but immediately, Mm—

He pressed his lips together and restrained himself. He lost his composure. He exerted himself tremendously. Now he mustered all his courage. Courage won. His face flushed.

“Aah…” With that single sigh of his, all that had transpired was buried and concluded,

“Very well.” “Even if a child does things that trouble and distress their parent, the parent will cherish them without end.” “I have no intention of turning that into any sort of issue.” “She is pitiable—I must help her…” he said, as if appraising himself. It was clear he had not spoken those words to the woman before him. Yet his tone carried such solemnity that this astute woman could not possibly neglect to convey it to her mistress upon returning.

All circumstances had been discerned. The woman’s eloquence, demeanor, and sincerity—without touching upon the misconduct of my mistress, who was the primary cause of the incident, and without violating the dignity of this house’s old master—skillfully led the master of this household to comprehend the necessity of retrieving the flute; by beseeching his aid, she had nearly achieved her objective. The worldly experience of this household’s master—his meticulous observation and sharp insight—had pierced through all deception; now wielding that power, he sought to forestall the impending disaster poised to erupt. Moreover, even amid all this, the old master had not forgotten to win over people’s hearts.

“Understood.” “I’ll arrange matters as you say.” “Still, you’ve shown remarkable capability.” “Mistakes are demons of circumstance—I’ll overlook them.” “Eloquent speech, commendable disposition, most admirable loyalty.” “In due course, I’ll surely find you a worthy man and see him advanced.” With this addendum, his gaze softened into that of the prosperous-looking old man once more. The woman merely bowed her head in silent gratitude.

“The only regret is that had you exerted but one more effort back then, it would have sufficed.” “To expect such thoroughness would be unreasonable, yet—” “He likely never thought that far ahead, did he?” “To what do you refer?” “Well now—though ’tis plain as day with a bit of digging, and good enough at that—the true blunder lies here: while that wretch had already sniffed out whose household we belong to, we ended up without even a rough notion of where he hails from or what name he bears. Left us at a disadvantage, see.”

As he made this offhand remark, the woman suddenly raised her head with a courageous expression and spoke in a low voice: “Yes, if it concerns that matter—after first sending that man out and allowing him to depart, I immediately prepared myself and followed his trail through the fortunately snowy night path. Wearing low clogs without a lantern, I took care not to be noticed as I pursued that solitary black figure visible in the distance.” As she spoke, the old master involuntarily exclaimed: “What? You mean to say you immediately followed him?”

“Indeed, with such anxious care—taking care not to be noticed, not to lose sight… if I were noticed and captured instead, what would become of me?—my feet aching from the cold, my body frozen and shrunken by the chill, yet I persevered with all my might and finally succeeded in trailing him to the end.”

The master, thoroughly impressed, leaned forward,

“Ohh! “Ah! Remarkable one! “Well executed.” “That you conceived this venture is commendable, but to have trailed him to completion—my, that’s fearsome.” “For a woman, you possess a terrifying measure of capability.” “And so…” “Oh no, it was entirely by My Lady’s guidance… I merely strove with all my might to atone for my own inadequacies.” “And it was precisely due to the snow’s all-encompassing brightness that even when keeping such distance as to nearly lose sight, the tall figure ahead remained visible. With this faded sedge hat upon my head and robe tied by a slender cord, I managed to proceed undetected.”

“Hmm.” “And where did that man settle?” “To the south of Shioana, I believe—a little over a block away, where habitation grows sparse—at the edge of an area with seven or eight scattered pines, there stood what seemed to be an old house of a large landowner, or perhaps some other dwelling with a comparatively high roof ridge. There, his figure vanished from sight.” “Seven or eight scattered pines serve as an unmoving landmark.” “Mm, good.” “It will soon be ascertained.” “Ah, though in this harsh world everyone has become shrewd, even women and children go to such lengths?” “Very well. Though it’s an unpleasant affair, I’ll manage something.”

He showed a look of strong resolve, but suddenly glanced around his surroundings and took a small object that had been serving as a nearby paperweight. "I'll give it."

He gave it to the woman. It seemed to be an immediate reward. The object was beautifully crafted in gold and emerald hues—perhaps a Tang Dynasty suanni or similar creature. Upon white paper spread across tatami mats, the small treasure radiated its noble brilliance. The woman prostrated herself before it.

*Chirp, chirp, chip, chip.*

The chirping of sparrows pierced through the momentary stillness.

Lower

At the outskirts of Heno Matsumura Village, where the local name Kuhonmatsu—Nine Pines—barely clung to existence, the trees stood aged, withered, and emaciated on the brink of lifelessness. Some half-shed their bark; others leaned precariously, their forms pitifully warped by relentless winds and lingering snowdrifts—a testament to nature’s cruelty upon what had long been removed from human care. Among them stood a solitary house that might once have been grand, now reduced to a relic testifying to unfortunate lineage. Beyond it lay only decay: a crumbling stable separated from the main building, a narrow granary collapsed diagonally with its roof-edge buried in earth—ruins so desolate they likely bore the stigma of a “haunted house” for over four or five years since last being inhabited. Even so, within that vast main house’s spacious reception room—its floor a patchwork of aged tatami mats with gaps here and uneven spots there; its lower wooden door warped so badly that a two-inch gap yawned at both its base and top; its upper sliding doors missing their pulls, their depths pooling with an ogre-eye gloom—two figures sat calmly facing each other across the demarcated space of host and guest. The guest wore a warm-looking dark brown robe of ample cut, a shoulder vest in the same color but slightly lighter with narrow sleeves, and matching hakama trousers. A courteous demeanor, a prosperous smile. In contrast, the master wore faded, soiled garments tinged black—though not dressed so shabbily as to appear cold—yet his emaciated frame and sharp, angry shoulders stood out starkly. Like a frost-covered boulder rising imposingly, his dignified, towering posture as he sat rendered him an intimidating figure not easily approached. However, contrary to his imposing posture, his face alone held a strangely knowing smirk, and though his eyes showed no sharp glint, it made one suspect this man had donned a mask borrowed from somewhere of late—an altogether unnerving sight.

In one corner of the seating area, on a large tray with crudely attached short legs, a single load of willow-bound barrels had been placed. The guest had likely made their attendant carry it here as provisions.

Suddenly, somewhere, a small bell rang out. Neither master nor guest particularly strained their ears at the sound, yet each became aware that the other had registered it. The guest recognized this as the faint jingle from the collar of that young dog—the one that had playfully darted from nowhere to frolic at his feet when he first arrived at this house. Thus they understood newcomers had approached. But when the elderly maidservant—a frail peasant-born woman—shuffled to the entrance muttering indistinctly, whether she departed or admitted them remained unclear; no further report reached their quarters.

The master smirked knowingly once more,

“Ah, both your account of Ryōkyū Zenbō and society’s whispered tales proved most intriguing.” “Though this marks our first consultation today, it carries the weight of a decade’s camaraderie.” “Your gracious words bring me profound honor.” “As certain wise ones say—when hearts meet unbidden, good follows; when forced together, ill brews. Truly, nothing gladdens like finding comrades whose tempers don’t war.”

“Those defiant ones split into west and east; the compliant ones clustered west and clustered east—and so began that fool’s errand called the Ōnin War.” “Ha ha ha ha!” “Nay, it cannot be ascribed to that alone.” “Reckonings of profit and loss must have carved the great divide.” “This profit-and-loss business always yanking people about—it galls me.” “Were there only those unswayed by gain and loss, the world would glide smoothly into order—and yet.”

“Hahaha.” “Ah, but therein lies another amusing paradox.” “First, since nearly seventy to eighty percent of the world clings to gain, society would find swift order if those pursuing gain were certain to obtain it. Yet those destined to profit instead suffer loss, while those fated to lose unexpectedly reap gains—a paradox all too common. Thus does society become doubly—nay, triply—entangled beyond governance.”

“Interesting.” “Then society must make those unmoved by profit and loss its guiding principle.”

“However, those who would side with certain defeat—in this age, nay, in any age—are few.” “Therefore, there is no reason why leaders who are not swayed by profit and loss would ever command greater numbers of banners; thus, the world remains a tangled affair.” “It’s infuriating.” “There’s nothing for it but to cut down every last one of those profit-and-loss schemers.”

“However, though it may be presumptuous of me to say so,” [Kisawa Sakyo] lowered his voice solemnly, “As in the recent battle at Shōkaku-ji—where Lords Momoi, Kyōgoku, Yamana, Isshiki, and even Hosokawa became severed heads—when faced with forty thousand enemy troops against our two or three thousand allies, there was nothing to be done. Though the Shogun’s office and the Shogunal Deputy’s authority remained, they proved powerless to strike back. The Shogun was captured; the Deputy committed ritual suicide. Loyalists who disregarded profit and loss resolved to abandon the world and retire as monks—they truly transcended the tides of gain.” “Their character is truly admirable, but even if many become world-renouncing monks and ascetics, it stands to reason that good people will diminish in the world.” “Moreover, many of the Shogunal Deputy’s retainers have committed seppuku—while this upholds samurai propriety, from society’s perspective, it stands to reason that the number of good people who would take their own lives for righteousness has diminished by that very count.” “Given this, there is no reason society’s future will improve.” “Unless we turn toward the mindset of improving society as a whole through any means necessary, I believe the day will never come when we can escape the torments of spears and swords and the realm of carnage, no matter how much time passes.”

As the master listened to talk of the Shogun and Shogunal Deputy, his expression—which had been relaxed with a knowing smirk—gradually tightened and stiffened, perhaps agitated by what he heard. Yet straining to suppress this shift, he erupted into a hollow, desiccated laugh—

“Ha ha ha!” “Exactly so. When Ryōkyū Zenbō was still in the secular world—taught by someone, no doubt—he declared this existence to be like two clay oxen desperately struggling into the sea.” “Clay oxen, clay dolls—all clay oxen, clay dolls.” “Where in this world are those who earnestly wish to better society as a whole?” “Even were there such thinkers, where would one find those who know how to improve it—who know such a path?” “Not knowing the Way, they seek expedients.” “Through expedients, they first seek to make their own horns grander, strengthen their own sinews, and enlarge their own bodies.” “At that stage, it remains a struggle.” “Though they claim descent from Atago’s line—practicing Izuna-Atago’s dark arts, enduring the bitter prohibitions against women, reciting dhāraṇī sutras, forming mudras to sustain curses, attempting to levitate into empty skies—such fools wield power to make the world kneel beneath demonic paths, molding the Shogun into crude clay figurines.” “That is our age.” “Does it chafe your spirit?” “For one who knows neither Way nor strategy—without status or lineage—who relies solely on his sword arm: cut down every wretch who displeases you without mercy, and when your hour comes, plunge headlong into the sea.” “Live with that clarity of purpose—see it through—and dying tonight would suffice. That too might naturally serve this world’s needs.” “Ha ha ha ha!”

“So the world remains forever mired in the realm of carnage… You are like Qu Yuan of the Shura path.” “What? Qu Yuan?” “He who maintained a heart both stern and pure—unaccepted by his lord, rejected by the world—cast himself into the Miluo River and perished.” “Heh, heh. “Ah, I will not die quietly—a raging Qu Yuan, perhaps?” “Ha ha ha ha!” “Ryōkyū Zenbō, who renounced the world and plunged into Buddhism, is a gentle Qu Yuan.” “Ha ha, ha ha.” “He was a good man, but entering Zen or some such—what a stingy fellow.”

“Forgive my impertinence, but even this raging Qu Yuan—who vows to die tonight without regret while steeped in slaughter…”

“From that unrestrained drivel of yours…” “Would that not be stinginess?” “That is what I would venture to say.”

“Ah ha ha!” “What now?”

“Measure the sea’s depth with a ruler.” “Even when the ruler’s length ends, the sea remains unmeasured.” “The samurai’s world is one realm; the Buddhist path’s world another; Japan itself yet another.” “But these do not exhaust all worlds.” “Goryeo, Tang China, Siam, Cambodia, Sumatra, Annam, India—the world stretches without end.” “Though this world may rankle your soul, another exists that does not.” “Launch a great ship from Fujishiro in Kii—let forty or fifty *tan* sails catch an east-northeast wind—and instantly this vexing world stays behind as that world emerges ahead.” “Different starlight, different mountain hues—remarkable worlds must surely exist.” “Viewed from the vast expanse of overseas trade straddling countless realms—should there be one who tries to soothe a choleric belly with a single sword that can cut few men, who resolves to die without regret when their hour comes—though noble, their world stays narrow and small, constrained by limited sight, their preferences naturally diminished.” “For there exists this realm too: standing warrior-like upon a great ship in open seas—the whole sky’s stars as your helmet, ten-thousand-league winds buffeting you—facing an unfathomable world.”

Just as he was about to speak, a dog’s bell clanged incessantly, conveying the impression that more than one or two visitors had arrived at this house. At that moment, the master laughed broadly with a knowing smirk once more, his eyes fixed squarely on the guest as he declared— “Indeed, extensive overseas trade must be truly agreeable.” “Such petty irritations must be easy enough to forget.” “But consider—even while standing on that boundless sea, buffeted by winds spanning ten thousand leagues and admiring the beautiful azure sky’s radiance—should one learn that back in their cherished home awaiting their return, their beloved wife had been engaged in dark deeds… that their servant had mistakenly… admitted some strange man… and that this miserly wretch had absconded with damning evidence… Then even amidst that vast ocean’s expanse, even with grand ambitions swelling within—surely some small fury would stir.”

And then, three to of foul water was dashed directly upon him. The guest, aghast, suddenly drew back his left knee and cast a single glance at the master, but immediately prostrated himself and for a time could not raise his head. Yet even so, he was a seasoned veteran. "I am thoroughly chastened."

With a single phrase—just one—he settled everything, “Using my longstanding familiarity with Ryōkyū Zenbō—both during his secular life and after his ordination—as a pretext, I made inquiries. He spoke unreservedly on many matters, and though it may be presumptuous to say so, I perceived his disposition and convictions to be as remarkably refined as his reputation suggests. In my heedlessness, I ventured to voice my own crude opinions. Yet when it came to broaching my true purpose—to request the item we just discussed—I found myself unable to speak directly. Instead, I engaged in trivial discourse about this and that. Let me be clear: though these may seem like digressions, I speak without deceit or embellishment—as you can see, I am but an uncouth rustic.” “I earnestly beseech you—by the bond of your close acquaintance with Ryōkyū Zenbō—to understand my deepest sincerity and grant this humble one’s plea for the return of that item.” “Though my rudeness may defy measure in your reproach, I humbly entreat you to recognize me henceforth as one who shall long prove of service to your interests. Moreover, I shall shortly call upon you again with Ryōkyū Zenbō to pay my respects, ever grateful for your boundless benevolence.” “The bond between parent and child—in this manner, I earnestly beseech you with a sincere heart.”

As he raised his face and stared fixedly at the master, tears welled up in his eyes and were about to spill forth—but then he bowed his head once more. He was undoubtedly a formidable old man, but at this moment, his face had lost all traces of joviality and audacity, brimming only with solemn resolve. Yet the master was not one to be outdone by that. “I refuse.”

He flatly rejected. The master wore no smirk; the guest was bitterly resentful. “Though you may find this disagreeable… I implore you… I implore you most earnestly… It concerns my own child’s very life.”

“…………” “For that long-lived thing may yet bring about most grievous consequences.” “…………”

“No matter what, I cannot simply stand by and watch.” “I shall revere you as both Buddha and gods.” “I implore you, I implore you—pray have mercy on me.”

“…………” “I shall do anything at all.” “If you would but deign to return that one thing—whatever you may command—I shall execute it precisely as bid.” “I beseech you—whatever your demand may be—pray voice it.” “I implore you, I implore you.” “…………” “Even having entreated you so fervently, to receive neither assent nor refusal—how merciless.” “What disposition have you for us? And what purpose have you for that item?” “What service could this lowly one possibly render?”

“I do not think of you all as anything in particular.” “Meddling in others’ affairs is something I find utterly detestable.” “What you do with the person on the ship is entirely theirs to handle.” “It has nothing whatsoever to do with me.” “How cold and severe… And what are your intentions regarding that item?” “Regarding that item—once the person aboard the ship returns, I shall meet with that individual and explain such-and-such circumstances of how we came to face such-and-such a situation. As proof of that time, I temporarily took it back, but since it is originally your possession, I will hand it over to them with the words ‘I return it to you.’” “What I must do ends there.”

“Why must you insist so adamantly on acting thus?”

“This is a world of extreme duplicity and reversal.” “Consider this—when Sōshū attacked the Shogun and Shogunal Deputy, what became of them?” “They were attacked precisely because Sōshū stood with us.” “Yet after dispatching the Shogun and Deputy, the Hosokawa, Yamana, Isshiki clans let them languish in endless sieges—even brought courtesans from Katsura to their war camps—while leisurely amassing their own forces. Then they suddenly rose up and surrounded them from all quarters. With their schemes perfectly timed, the Shogunal Deputy had no choice but to commit seppuku.” “When those who stayed behind abruptly turn enemy and assail the dispatched, how could the dispatched possibly survive?” “A terrifying world of reversals.” “Moreover, even were this old man to claim your wife has done such unspeakable things—without proof, ’tis mere slander.” “A man swayed by a woman’s honeyed words would instead deem this old man suspect—why doubt his own wife to trust some stranger?” “In such matters generally—even were I their family’s lifelong retainer, renowned for loyalty—carelessly speaking out would see me outmaneuvered by scoundrels and made to suffer bitter ends. The world abounds with such examples.” “Nor is it rare for a woman cunning enough to scheme in shadows—when her delusions fester—to bring ruin upon her husband at some crucial hour.” “Should I withhold evidence from that person, their future grows dreadfully uncertain—and I become a demonic accomplice aiding evil over good.” “These demonic accomplices now overrun our age.” “The Shogun’s overthrow and Deputy’s killing—all works of these fiends.” “The world teems with infuriating wretches who feign ignorance of all matters, never lifting a finger unless it profits them—rotting away their days while watching righteous men wither and villains thrive.” “Each such vermin deserves crushing underfoot.” “Would this old man ever become such vermin?” “In our thorn-strewn world—given my station—I live each moment pressed to the brink: never expecting to survive from dawn till dusk when rising; never assuming warmth will last till morn when bedding down; ever ready to cut down or be cut down where I stand.” “Lately I’ve resolved to charge even into spear-thickets and burn with intent to leap into raging flames.” “I’ll crush every last irritant and cut down every last wretch—what need for restraint or mercy?” “You’ve fine features and sturdy build—your singular bearing holds charm enough. Though we’ve conversed till now, I’ll not grant your request.”

and was met with a stern refusal tinged with emotion, left with no means to cling to him and cast aside unrighteously. “Even after I have implored you with such utmost sincerity…” “Nay, I say.” “Gold, silver, treasures—I shall arrange anything at all as you desire.” “Nay, I say.” “I shall provide any manner of assistance you require.” “Nay, I say.” “If you would but deign to issue any command at all—even should Enjiya’s entire fortune be reduced to ashes—I shall execute it precisely as instructed, yet…”

“Nay, I say.”

At this point, the elderly guest slowly raised his head. From his lustrous, prominent forehead ran a flash of light. His clear eyes darted a piercing glance at the master. But then immediately lowered his head slightly and, in a low, composed tone, “When a foolish beast finds itself truly cornered, it will even bite at blades—a pitifully foolish thing indeed.” “When people are driven to desperation, they may resort to unseemly acts—a pitiful state of affairs indeed.” “Enjiya is but an ignorant soul, a feeble one.” “Yet I have not the slightest intention of doing anything improper. However, to avoid causing others distress—and to receive your gracious consideration—I believe this would be a mark of magnanimity befitting a just and strong individual…”

Though his words emerged from beneath with exhaustive humility, their underlying intent remained inscrutable—this tenacious phrasing only served to further provoke the master, his voice rising in pitch as he continued,

“Well.” “For what cannot be obtained through requests—there are ways to seize it. Ways to steal it. Ways to hire a skilled hand and have me cut down. Ways to borrow the arm of public authorities and have this suspicious wretch apprehended.” “Not ignorant at all—a capable person.” “Far from powerless—you’re an adversary too formidable for even a gaunt prisoner.” “Ha ha ha ha! Amusing.” “I’ve known from the start that you’d likely refuse to yield.” “Against fire, water; against water, earth.” “I am ever prepared to oppose you.”

As he spat these words like curses, the guest calmly raised both hands in a placating gesture, “Not at all! Ha ha ha.” “My words were ill-chosen.” “Why would I become such a foolish beast?” “It was merely that, finding myself utterly cornered with no recourse, I spoke out of an excessive desire to receive your gracious consideration.” “Now I humbly entreat you once more with utmost sincerity.” “No matter what the circumstances—even should Enjiya be reduced to ashes—it would cause me no hardship. I most earnestly entreat you to deign to return that article.” “Truly, as I have said…”

Enjiya bowed his head with earnest sincerity,

“Nay.”

he declared bluntly. “Even after I have entreated you to such lengths…”

“You’re tedious.” “I said no—it’s no.” The guest’s eyes became tear-filled once more. “To call this excessive would be merciless.” “That item brings you no advantage whatsoever to possess, while for us it concerns matters of life and death...” “This settles nothing, but I shall bear your resentment.”

“Resent me then. Resent me freely.” “Though you should by no rights be our enemy, this compels us against our will to name you as such.” “If you would make foes of us, then make us your foes.” “Then though any power should stand against you—” “Nay.” “We’ve exhausted words between us.” “Take your leave.”

“Haah!”

Even the stalwart old man was on the verge of breaking down in manly tears when suddenly—footsteps, fierce ones—

“Pardon the intrusion.”

At the very moment these words were spoken, a young man burst in from the veranda side, violently sliding open the shoji screen with a clatter—his caterpillar-thick dagger, hakama tied at the waist, leather tabi, jet-black hair, flame-red face, and blazing eyes marking him as barely twenty-three or twenty-four. He dropped down unceremoniously beside the master, neglecting even a nod toward Enjiya, his demeanor wholly indifferent to the latter's presence. Rigidly upright, he fixed his gaze on the master's face, eyes drilling into him like twin augers. The master blinked rapidly, trying to check his speech—but whether noticing this or not, the youth now spun toward Enjiya, met his face squarely for the first time, and offered a haughty, shallow nod.

“I take you to be Master Enjiya.” “I am the rōnin Tange Uzen.”

he introduced himself. The master seemed to deem this superfluous, but smirked wordlessly. Enjiya stemmed his tears, resumed his portly elder's demeanor, and bowed his head with meticulous courtesy,

“I am Sakai’s Enjiya, the retired patriarch.” “Might there be relatives of Lord Bizen no Kami of the same surname within the household of the late Lord Kanrei—specifically those in southern Kawachi…” Without letting him finish, “I am Lord Bizen no Kami’s younger brother.” After declaring proudly—his stiffly raised head snapping back down abruptly—the young man alone seemed to feel a faint satisfaction, his mood improved,

“Enjiya.”

This time, it was already a blunt address. Yet there was no malice in it—only familiarity. “Ha.” The old man looked into the young man’s eyes. The young man was guileless. “Though I know not what it is, you have been earnestly requesting some treasure from Lord Kisawa and are vexed because your plea goes unheeded.”

“Ha.” “What exactly is that treasure?” “…………”

“Is it a miraculous Buddhist statue or some such thing?” “…That is not the case.” “Is it a treasure sword? A jewel? Something from Tang China?” “That is not it either.” “Is it some ancient calligraphies or renowned paintings from our country or foreign lands?” “No, that is not it either.” “I can’t fathom it. Then what is it?” “…………”

The master interjected from the side.

“Lord Tange, do not concern yourself. This does not involve you.”

“Ha ha ha.” “To begin with, I detest so-called treasures—musty old scrolls and paintings that’d leave your nose black if you blew it on them, playthings you could crush between two fingers—yet they’re called treasures and priced like years of a proper samurai’s stipend! It’s a bitter farce.” “I know not what your treasure may be, Lord Kisawa, but how would it be to bestow it upon this old man who desires it enough to shed tears?” “Hmm… To your eyes, this Enjiya must appear to covet it desperately.”

“That is indeed the case.” “There exists nothing I desire more.”

“Hmm. Is that so?” “I heard Enjiya offered to stake his entire fortune—is this truly the case?” “It is precisely as you say.” “I will undertake any manner of task.” “Should you grant me its transfer, no greater joy exists.” “Exactly as you say, I see.”

“To esteemed lords such as your household’s Lord Kisawa Sakyo and the honorable younger brother of Lord Tange Bizen no Kami—Enjiya would not utter falsehoods or deceptions.” “To withdraw an offer once made in trade negotiations is something merchants would never do.” “Enjiya may have a loose tongue, but he is a merchant.” “Japan means the merchants of Sakai in Senshu Province.” “We are merchants who treat with Goryeo and Ming China, Annam and India—even the Southern Barbarian nations.” “While I understand that samurai have methods like taking hostages to prevent broken agreements—if merchants did such things, our way could not endure even a day.” “There is no need for concern—Enjiya is a merchant.” “We are merchants of Japan who stand face-to-face with all nations under heaven.”

With this implicit criticism even of the samurai class, he vented his own convictions and stirred up Uzen, who was still a fledgling. Uzen’s crimson face flushed even deeper. “Hah! Spouting nonsense now, Enjiya?” “You’re spouting such satisfying nonsense.” “If that is how it stands, I shall grant your desire.” “Oh, this is truly most gracious. “I shall revere you as the divine one who grants aid.”

With apparent sincerity, Enjiya prostrated himself, but after a moment, he raised his head slightly and gazed at Uzen with a look both troubled and sorrowful.

“Though Your Lordship may deign to say so,”

With a resentful glance toward his master, he then suddenly bowed before Tange. “Oh, what is this? I humbly ask for your kind efforts in this matter. Even if the matter should not come to pass... I shall remain deeply indebted to your gracious favor.” he said in a withered tone. The young chick’s neck hairs bristled with ferocious intensity. The smirk had vanished as a smirk. A young, vigorous voice that called “Lord Kisawa” and the loose, rusted voice calling “Lord Tange” clashed simultaneously with its counterpart from both mouths.

The arrows of their gazes—having locked eyes—collided tip to tip in midair. But Tange’s arrow fell. Kisawa pressed down as if to overwhelm, “Do not trouble yourself, Lord Tange. “This does not concern you.” “It is but a trifling matter concerning Sakyo alone.”

he said coldly and quietly. He tried to lightly brush the young man aside. However, Tange’s second arrow was forcefully loosed.

“No, Lord Kisawa. Though it’s impudent to contradict your words, you must have heard this old man’s earlier petition—his sworn vow to fulfill any demand of your will. Enjiya may be a merchant, but in Sakai’s streets they count him among the Warehouse Guild’s foremost—a man who holds both wealth and power. As for his recent bold proclamation—truly worthy of a master merchant—he proves himself a man of no small mettle. As for the treasure you possess—though I know not its nature—if you would grant it to this man and bind him to carry out the sworn oath, then our scheme too...”

As he began to say this, Master Sakyo abruptly stopped him with both his eyes and hand at once. “Do not let yourself be spoken to rashly.” “Enough.” “No matter what you may say, I am who I am.” “If we both press our arguments, we will lose any point of resolution.” “I cannot deign to engage with you.”

With a visage of utmost severity—poised as if readying himself to sever their exchange—Uzen,

“BWA HA HA!”

Laughing like a great river breaching its banks, he pressed forward until his knee nearly touched mine—closing in relentlessly— “If it sounds foul to someone’s ears, I’ll just twist and crush the fool who heard it.” “Enjiya—pity you’ve got ears—might just get twisted dead by me right now! BWA HA HA HA!”

He laughed with maniacal intensity. Enjiya acted as though hearing yet not hearing; under this pressure, Kisawa began inching backward while growing ever more resolute and increasingly bitter. “Lord Tange,” he said coldly and quietly. Yet Tange showed no signs of calming—now glaring wide-eyed at Sakyo, he even let the force gathering in his large fist upon his right knee become visible. “Though our plan has rankled your sensibilities—it matters not! No longer matters! Having lost this chance, what need for discretion? Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow again—no preparations set, *his* arrangements still incomplete! Since launching this scheme, days have stretched endless. Let others cling to their precious wits—Tange Uzen has wearied utterly!” “Enjiya! You old fool—your head’s about to fly! Watch yourself! What we call ‘our scheme’ is na—”

He started to say—then glared fiercely at his master. The master, perhaps having resigned himself that nothing could now be done—or perhaps deeply pondering in his heart how to resolve this situation—with no immediate course of action apparent, Uzen pressed his advantage all the more. “At the late Shogunal Deputy’s encampment in Kawachi, we fell into the treacherous schemes of duplicitous comrades—then tens of thousands of enemies descended upon us without warning. Our forces were but a small contingent dispatched solely for the subjugation of Sōshū, with no reinforcements to be had. First we escorted the Shogun to Tsutsui in retreat. Then Lord Hisanori—a mere boy of thirteen—we disguised as lowly Katsura courtesans, with Taira no Saburō as his attendant, forcing him into exile in Yamato’s remote districts. The outrage—the bitter regret!” “On the ninth night of the fourth month, when retainers raised their final cups and sought to commit seppuku with Fujishirou’s blade—they drew it thrice across their bellies yet it would not cut! Hah! Do you comprehend? A masterpiece like Fujishirou’s could never fail to slice—nor was our lord trembling in fear! All of it—even in his final moments—flowed from our lord’s tender heart: weighing the realm, his house, his retainers—like Confucius himself loath to quit Lu!” “As the enemy pressed ever closer—”

Having spoken this far—now struck by belated emotion—large teardrops streamed down. “Lest your lordly remains be defiled by common soldiers’ trampling feet, Nobukuni drew his blade—thrust it twice through his own thigh to test its edge—then presented it to his lord, declaring its keenness fit for purpose.” “And so our lord performed ritual suicide with that blade. All his close retainers joined him in death, setting the castle ablaze—its ashes now lie cold. We remaining vassals hid in the grass and crouched in thickets—how could we go on living in this world?” “For countless months with resentment piercing our marrow—teeth clenched, fists tightened—we iron-hearted men bound by loyalty devised strategies and joined forces. Seizing our moment, we stirred winds and raised clouds to uphold Lord Hisanori, resolved to show a dragon’s heavenly might. Our scheme ripened fully—its hour now presses upon us.” “Now then—having laid bare such grave matters, Enjiya! I won’t let you idle in that seat! You’ll provide arms, provisions, laborers, horses, carts—exactly as I command!” “In Japan they say Sakai merchants’ dealings brook no dispute—I tell you.” “The treasure Lord Kisawa holds—I’ll take it from him and hand it over.” “Would this not suit, Lord Kisawa?” “No offense, but what folk call treasures are ultimately trivial things.” “Hand it over with good grace.” “It benefits our comrades.” “…being kept silent…”

“If I say I refuse, what will you do?” “What?” “No—you would not dare refuse.” “It is precisely because I believed this that I have spoken thus.” “In truth, do you still refuse?”

“You’ll have to crush Enjiya, won’t you?” “Merely as your lordship is aware—to judge this old man so harshly is most unreasonable.” “Hmph.”

“As I have stated, this matter is Sakyo’s own affair—wholly separate from our faction’s concerns.” “It has nothing to do with our faction’s affairs.”

“So you say—will you persist in your stinginess to the bitter end? Letting our faction’s advantage slip away through sheer stubbornness—refusing to heed what Tange Uzen proposes?!” His eyes changed. It was as though purple flames had burst forth. He was angry. ………… “Being so stingy—what purpose does that serve?” “It serves no purpose at all.”

He stated with infuriating calm and clarity, dismissing the matter. Uzen was aghast, but since the words he had spoken—It serves no purpose at all—were no lie, there was nothing to be done. “There should be no cause to stubbornly insist on something that serves no purpose.” “If you were to agree, our long-cherished aspirations could be swiftly realized.” “The means are already fully prepared—toppling enemy generals and seizing their castles would be as simple as rummaging through a sack. Yet solely due to insufficient military provisions and other support, even were we to achieve victory, maintaining it would prove difficult; what is captured risks being recaptured. It is for this reason that the seasoned commanders hesitate to act—and why you yourself now suffer day and night over this very matter, is it not?” “Yet for reasons unknown, when this Enjiya made a timely offer, for you, Lord Tange, to present demands as if they should be accepted—is that not unconscionable?” “In a situation where profit and loss are clear—why do you hesitate? This strikes even this Uzen as utterly perplexing.” “It cannot be that Lord Kisawa—whose loyalty to his lord could hardly be called wanting—would act thus.”

When he spoke as if leveling an accusation, blue flames seemed to burst from Sakyo’s eyes. “Given your station as a greenhorn, take care not to overstep in your speech.” “Criticisms that stop just short of calling me disloyal—I will not entertain them.” “When profit and loss lie clear as day—even you, with your composed heart, speak of such calculations? Hah!” “It grates on my nerves enough to make me shudder.” “If we are to speak of profit and loss—in this present age where good and evil, right and wrong remain unsettled—to be a vassal is loss upon loss; even a talentless fool who becomes a lord gains advantage, and next, abandoning the world to become a monk like Ryōkyū brings the greatest gain.” “Those such as your lordship and I are not ones whose eyes have opened to profit and loss.” “To conflate bushido—loyalty—with such calculations of profit and loss, treating this as that and that as this—entirely separate matters—as one, then demand I submit to your lordship’s whims?” “What—could this Kisawa Sakyo’s heart—yearning for his lord and despising his enemies—lag even a fraction behind yours? It is precisely because this resentment pierces my marrow and grudges remain unquenched that I launched this scheme ahead of others!” “That I’m considered utterly bizarre because they know nothing of profit and loss? Hah!” “That in itself is the height of absurdity.” “It’s not that you alone are at fault, but—Hah!—the very state of this world grates on my nerves.”

“You speak of things I don’t quite grasp—but will you not accept what Uzen has proposed?”

…………

“I was certain you would comply—now that critical matters stand exposed, refusal would leave neither Uzen nor Enjiya room to maneuver.” “Well? Your answer…” ………… “Be it for your lord’s house or our faction—persisting in refusal now brings us to the brink.”

As he resolutely stepped aside, the old sliding doors behind the master were abruptly thrown open to both sides—

“Pardon the intrusion.” With the owner of a deep, resonant voice and a large, imposing face—pale, sallow, and corpulent—at their head, the crowd entered tumultuously and seated themselves encircling Kisawa. Enjiya swiftly withdrew; Tange looked up at the man, fixing him with a gaze that seemed to exert physical pressure. “Tange—outrageous! So young. “Apologize! Apologize!” “Given your junior standing—” “That was unpardonable rudeness.” “Offer formal apology to Lord Kisawa—properly, in this manner.” With his corpulent frame swathed in damask hakama and kataginu, the imposing figure prostrated himself with ceremonial dignity. Unable to defy this command, Tange had no choice but to flatten his posture and bow his head, though he barely comprehended the reason. The great man observed this with an expression neither approving nor amused—utterly composed.

“Good, good, that will suffice.” “You’ve apologized properly, Tange.” “Lord Kisawa, it is as you have witnessed.” “The fault of having abruptly proposed matters, and a proposal that can hardly be deemed an overstatement—both are but the innocence of youth.” “Since he has apologized, grant him pardon.” “Now then, Tange—once more bow with the same sincerity as before, and entreat that your proposal be accepted.” “I too join in this entreaty—as you see here.”

With his large frame—like a toppling hill—prostrating itself with utmost propriety before Kisawa, Tange too, once more, “I most earnestly entreat you to accept the proposal I have presented, Lord Kisawa.” he said. The man who still had not lifted his head—at the deep voice, “Lord Yusa Kawachi no Kami, I too make the same entreaty.”

and said,

“Enough! What are all of you being so careless about? This is not a bow to the enemy—is it not one exchanged between allies, between brothers?”

When he rebuked them, they all uniformly lowered their heads, “Sugihara Tarohei humbly entreats you.” “Saitō Kurou humbly entreats you.”

“Kishi Yoichiro, I humbly entreat you.” “Miyazaki Gozo…”

“Yasumi Takuma also humbly entreats you.” With husky voices, gravelly voices, rough voices, shrill voices—voices of every kind—they swirled up and pleaded insistently. And the people’s heads could not be raised until Kisawa gave his answer. Tange fidgeted restlessly. Of course, he intended to rise based solely on Yusa’s unflinching demeanor. “Lord Yusa and all of you, please desist.” “We shall arrange matters as per Lord Tange Uzen’s proposal.”

The people all lifted their brightened faces. Uzen had an especially beaming countenance, like a blossoming flower. Enjiya's delight was to be expected, but Yusa Kawachi no Kami maintained an expression as though nothing had transpired. Then abruptly he turned toward Enjiya,

“Master Enjiya.” Yusa called out with deliberate honorific weight. Enjiya “Ha.” responded deferentially. “As you have just heard. Therefore I shall dispatch an attendant from my side. Lord Kishi Yoichiro and Lord Yasumi Takuma—you will coordinate with Enjiya and see all matters properly settled. But ensure complete secrecy—for Enjiya’s sake and ours alike—with every possible precaution taken.” “Ah—most satisfactory. Lord Kisawa—all stands accomplished now. The late Deputy’s house shall soon rise before our eyes.”

At these words, the people all stirred with excitement and rejoiced. “Am I too being led around by profit and loss?” As if doubting himself and yet lamenting himself, Kisawa glared at a corner of the room.

Not many days thereafter, a night attack was suddenly launched upon Hirano Castle in the Kawachi plains. Castle Commander Momoi Hyōgo and Guest General Isshiki Nanigashi were struck down, and the castle became the stronghold of Yusa Kawachi no Kami and his forces. Their faction gained momentum daily, gradually restored its former glory, welcomed Hatakeyama Hisanori who had been hiding in Yamato to support him, constructed a castle in Takaya of Kawachi as their stronghold, and ultimately brought Hisanori to achieve considerable prominence. On the same night that Hirano Castle fell—though it was unclear who had done it—a severed head was thrown into Enjiya’s residence. It was learned that he was a man from the court nobles of Kyoto who had been teaching scholarly and artistic disciplines among the virtuous townspeople of Sakai.