Pathway to Japanese Literature

Part I

What must it be like when birds have their nests burned and beasts have their dens overturned?

Unable to even raise their sorrowful voices, their vacant eyes moving without purpose, the birds thrust their heads into thickets and grass clumps, waiting with anguished hearts for the dawn sky. The beasts—startled into sudden dashes, creeping warily with fearful eyes and hesitant steps—would not forget to tense their jaws and claw roots in dreadful readiness, poised to bite or strike should the moment demand.

Having passed through Ōnin, Bunmei, Chōkyō, and Entoku, it was now early December of Meiō 2. In these times, from those above—the Shogun and Shogunal Deputy—down to the commoners below, how many had become pitiful birds and beasts? This was a tranquil area—not quite the outskirts—of Sakai in Izumi Province, which at the time 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. The snow that had begun falling in the evening—unusual for these warm climes—steadily fell, and though well past early nightfall now, still scattered flurries continued while tapering off at the edges. One side opened wide, perhaps continuing into vegetable fields, with small thatched huts dotting the spaces between them. The other side was a continuous line of tall, imposing walls, along which ran a small ditch—the rear alley of a grand residence.

Through the snow in such a place where not a soul would pass at this hour—as if oblivious to where the snow was falling or what cold or loneliness meant—a figure came walking proudly and yet leisurely from the countryside.

Is the one prowling such a place at this hour a wretched bird or beast? Even if not some small bird, could it be a beast without even a warm cave awaiting it somewhere? He had bundled one end of a thin rush mat into a makeshift hat and cloak, wearing it triangularly over his head. But after tilting his face skyward and taking three or four leisurely steps, he must have concluded the snow would finally let up— “Ugh!”

And with that, he violently flung it toward the open area on the left side of the road. No doubt having found it utterly galling to have worn such a wretched, shabby thing even temporarily, he had likely vented his spleen by snarling at the object rather than thanking it before casting it aside. Indeed, it was a pitiful thing he had clearly worn from the start with every intention of discarding once he reached some out-of-the-way spot. He quickened his pace. The snow had been sticky from the beginning. Thud—the snow packed between his geta's teeth caught his foot, nearly tripping him. But through nimble body movement and skillful shifting of his footing, he managed to lurch forward two or three steps before planting himself firmly in place.

“Ugh!” This time he snarled a venomous rebuke, chastising himself for his own carelessness. He must have been thoroughly churned up inside, his malice desperate to erupt. No matter how much he scolded it, the snow wouldn’t come loose—it only grew harder and more stubbornly lodged between his teeth. There, when he glanced up, he saw what appeared to be a small plank bridge spanning the ditch. Assuming its sturdiness, he stepped onto it—only to realize with his first footfall that this was no mere plank bridge but an artful structure of brushwood layered with packed earth. Before he could even think “This won’t do,” he crossed over the bridge and struck his geta against the baseboard of the small gate at its end. Though rough, he paid it no mind.

"Thud, thud, thud." As he kicked, the snow cleanly came loose and fell away. The left foot was done. This time for the right one, he drew his left foot slightly back and— "Thud, thud." —kicked. Thud—the moment the stubbornly packed snow finally dislodged, the gate swung ajar without a sound. As it opened, the snow within appeared faintly white to his eyes. Even the man couldn’t help starting. Yet he neither fled nor spoke. Though his body remained frozen—caught unawares—his mind had already righted itself. He did nothing on his part—that instant was consumed solely by watching what move the other might make. Yet the other showed no hesitation—drawing near while wordlessly reaching out to take his hand in a gentle grasp, as if to pull him inside. The hand he touched was warm; it was supple. Its strength was tender; unmistakably a woman’s hand untouched by rustic coarseness. At this, the man started anew. But still he neither fled nor spoke.

“Let me collide with whatever fate may come—I want to see the visage of what men call destiny.” Had such resolve not been firmly rooted within him through daily cultivation, he could never have comported himself thus—yet the man allowed himself to be led inward without resistance.

The woman deftly locked the gate. The fastening appeared to be of fine make—it closed with minimal sound yet absolute security. What remained of the cloud-borne snow began fluttering down anew. With one hand, the woman held over the man an imposing bamboo hat of the sort used in outdoor tea ceremonies to shield him from the snow; with the other, she grasped his hand and guided him with ceremonial care. They followed a single straight stone path through an open space too modest to be called a garden until before them loomed a great structure black against the snow. Its wings seemed to thrust outward while its center lay recessed, forming a deep veranda whose far end might have been termed a secondary entrance. When they reached this point, no lamps burned within nor did the snow's external glow penetrate—left standing in utter darkness with only the woman's hand to guide him, the man found himself unable to suppress a flicker of unease.

However, with the resigned resolve 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 wholly fixed on his footing. The woman secured the lock once more. After passing through a small earthen floor area, he parted with the geta that had brought tonight’s strange fate and ascended upstairs. The woman had somehow already set aside her bamboo hat—when the man noticed this, he started once more, astonished at her audacity. They passed through the wooden-floored area. The woman slightly raised the man’s hand. The man realized. "Ah—the elevation increases by the thickness of a tatami mat," he concluded. Thus they advanced step by step without stumbling.

In these perilous times, wealthy households often incorporated numerous steps and levels within their homes—a design meant to disadvantage any unfamiliar intruder attempting stealthy entry. Passing through several rooms, they finally advanced deep into the interior without making a sound. He still saw no lights, but soon a rich fragrance wafted through the air. It was not aloeswood, but a sweet fragrance said to be a rare foreign treasure. The woman gestured for him to sit here. It felt as though she gave a slight bow, but she left quietly. The man plopped down firmly onto a slightly stiff cushion that appeared to be made of foreign fabric. In the room’s corner, though the charcoal fire showed no face, its presence was known, leaving the room faintly warm.

This was quite the house. Though the inner quarters might lie thus deserted, it stood to reason that men of suitable caliber—those possessing both brawn and wit—would be stationed in the front areas. As he wondered what visage fate would assume when revealing itself, even amidst the pitch darkness, his eyes strained wide into the all-encompassing gloom, and instinctively his hand moved to his left hip. But immediately reconsidering—though he knew not what countenance fate would present—he resolved to show fate his own visage thus, and formed a tight-lipped grin.

At that moment, from the upper room came stealthy yet perceptible rustling of garments and footsteps—though no, rather than those sounds, it was first the sudden flare of crimson candlelight that shot forth. Following what seemed to be the earlier woman emerging with a silver candlestick came a gorgeously attired beauty whose intoxicating agarwood fragrance nearly overwhelmed the senses. Yet without having properly seen each other,

“Ah!” Startled, the woman nearly flung away the candlestick, crumbled at the knees and waist, threw herself down, and hid her face. “Tight-lipped grin.”

The man laughed. The master proved himself every inch a master. Though he nearly toppled backward in shock, he somehow steadied himself—and in that very stance stood glaring down at the man with eyes brimming hatred and fury. Fierce eyes. Severe eyes. Cold eyes—shards of ice glinting with harsh light. Yet beautiful they were—eyes of wicked beauty.

“Tight-lipped grin.”

The man laughed. Like a clouded mirror reflecting a person, the man looked up at the master with dull intensity. He was not yet thirty—thin-skinned over plump flesh, his complexion ruddier than usual due to agitation—yet through the white powder, he possessed a beauty foreign to our land. His eyes, nose, mouth, and ears were all well-formed; his eyebrows seemed slightly groomed. Instead, his hair hung loose without being tied up, as befitting a person of noble status—which gave him an air of arrogance.

The man whom the master observed with a piercing gaze—wondering whether he was some night thief or what manner of being—had a broad forehead, high nose, upturned eyes, small-lobed ears, and sparse stubble that seemed coarse as spear metal along his jaw. His copious hair was crudely and bizarrely short-tied, nothing like a tea whisk’s form; though dressed in townsman-like attire, it ill-suited him utterly. With a single short sword at his hip, his entire bearing defied comprehension—lean yet formidable-looking, presently shabby yet seemingly once fit to command others. Though having recently taken to the path of banditry, he appeared stubbornly irascible and prideful—a figure whose essence eluded all conjecture. That eerie man—before him,

“Tight-lipped grin.” He laughed and kept his expression unchanged; faced with this figure who maintained a tight-lipped grin as though carved from wood, the master’s hatred and fury gradually crumbled from within. Truly, one who angers can be known; one who laughs cannot be measured. Those who have desires are weak and not worthy of fear; those without desires are strong and cannot be dealt with. The incomprehensible became terror, and that terror drove him to thoughts of flight.

And so, though he was neither being accused nor blackmailed, he could no longer endure remaining before this man and attempted to retreat. But when he saw his maidservant prostrate and weeping before him—there in that moment—the woman suddenly became enraged, “You there!”

he said in a scolding tone, though his voice was low. …………

............ ............ Though it had been but a brief span of time, it felt interminably long—the maid had been suffering through this voiceless, objectless desolation, wondering if traversing a hundred million Buddha-lands might mean enduring such torment as this. Now, when addressed with "You there!"—whether it be harsh rebuke or anything else—she suddenly raised her tear-streaked face as though shown a path through certain death, as though finding a lantern in pitch darkness, "Yes, my lord."

she answered, but upon seeing the current state of affairs, burst into tears once more, "I most humbly beg your forgiveness for having committed such negligence. Having received your instructions and with the items remaining undisturbed on their side... I beg you to pass judgment upon me as you see fit... As for your lordship, even should I forfeit my life, I entreat you to reclaim them... Thus I most humbly..."

It seemed she had gathered her thoughts while prostrate in tears, for she now spoke from the heart without faltering. The truth lay plain upon her face—her endless tears betrayed no falsehood or artifice—and with desperate earnestness, she studied the man’s countenance while pondering how to handle this intruder. Her finely sculpted features gave her a beauty beyond the ordinary; she was a splendid young woman of pure heart, her loyalty still untainted by worldly corruption. Yet this woman’s words had laid bare her master’s recent conduct. Then she looked him squarely in the face.

“Tight-lipped grin.” Encountering his wooden grin, she could not help but harbor grave doubts as to whether this was someone she could handle on her own, and now found herself confronted anew with hardship. The master’s fury seemed to have somewhat subsided, but as his passion receded, space arose for coldly penetrating criticism to well up— “Even were you to throw away your life—hohoho—what exactly do you propose to accomplish?” With that sneering remark—hohoho—the woman became agitated, “Yes—even if I truly must throw away my life—”

she said vehemently—but the master

“No—rather than that—” With that, he beckoned the woman closer, brought his mouth to her ear, and whispered something. The woman, understanding his intent, circled around the screen and departed toward the inner quarters, while the master, unable to remain standing any longer, took advantage of the moment to sit down. Before long, the woman brought forth an uncertain yet considerable amount of gold and silver placed upon a lacquered tray lined with formal paper, setting it before the man. “Through my negligence, I mistakenly detained your esteemed presence, for which I most humbly beg your pardon." “Though it be but meager, I most humbly present this token of apology for having caused your esteemed business to be neglected.” "I most humbly beseech you to accept this offering and graciously withdraw your claim as you see fit."

After cleverly phrasing [her entreaty] and pressing her fingers in a bow, the master too simultaneously inclined his head slightly in acknowledgment.

Then the wooden grin was a wooden grin no longer. Jolted abruptly as if shaken violently, he seemed to rock unsteadily—yet as fury and sorrow intertwined, they coalesced into a singular solemnity, an unassailable gravity. “Hrm.” He let out a breath as if cornered. From his solemn face emanated a formidable intimidation. Both the master and the maid were struck by his intimidation; unable to gauge anything, they had no choice but to lower their eyes. The gold and silver that had glittered in the candlelight had now vanished from everyone’s thoughts. To both the master and the maid, he was a man utterly devoid of any clue for interpretation.

“You wretches!”

And from the mouth of this man clad in nondescript garments issued a single arrogant word ill-fitting for him. However, the two were overwhelmed and left aghast—it was a voice of middling pitch yet clear and pleasant. “Every last one of you—what an admirable bunch.” Instead of being scolded where they deserved rebuke, they were praised instead, leaving the two with a peculiar sensation akin to having their bare backs stroked by a live clam. “To think that one would keep such treasured objects of the world in one’s own hands—or leave their handling to the whims of servants! Ah, such magnanimity in daily affairs, such absolute trust in those beneath you without a shred of doubt… Ah, a master must indeed be thus—a master so capable that others would wish to claim you as their own…… Yet such a one exists not in the world—and here you are,……”

It had not been a conversation directed at the two of them. It was a lamentation of indignation and anguish toward this present age where masters distrust their household retainers and retainers place no faith in their masters. The master of this house, being addressed thus and told something entirely unexpected, could do nothing but falter in confusion. “But you, oh paragon of virtue here—” “That you’ve driven yourself up to such heights of virtue—it all began from your own efforts to establish yourself, did it not?” “Damn you—how detestable!”

It seemed as though pale fire shot forth from his eyes. The master did not understand why, but struck by that flash of light, he involuntarily closed his eyes.

“This wench—eloquent in speech, deft in mediation—exceeds all measure in managing those beneath her. “And that resolve to cast away her life—utterly guileless—that discernment and discretion—ah! A splendid samurai—admirable—a truly loyal servant. “One entrusted by others cannot discharge their duty thus. “She’s worth retaining as household staff even at great expense…… Yet in this pitifully oblivious world—this helpless, unenlightened age—the loyal commit disloyal acts, believing them loyal, marching steadfast to their deaths. “Good men and good men cast aside each other’s lives—thereby confounding the world. “Damn you—how detestable!”

There had been no reply at all as the two had anticipated, but now, having reached this point, they began to dimly comprehend what manner of man this intruder was. Yet as it remained utterly impossible to gauge how they themselves might be treated, the two—their awe intensifying—sank ever deeper into bottomless terror.

The man deliberately surveyed the four directions of the chamber. Folding screens, standing partitions, an ornate shrine cabinet, furnishings—all were objects of staggering opulence. The alcove scroll displayed a grand Chinese painting resplendent with pigments; upon the side shelves—though their nature remained unclear at first glance—lay small precious items likely imported from China; on the lowest shelf rested a large beautiful object resembling a scroll case, atop which lay a flute of evident pedigree—whether native craft or foreign make remaining uncertain—reverently arranged upon purple silk. The two tracked the man's shifting gaze, but he gradually resumed his tight-lipped smirk. Without pause, the woman ventured timidly,

“I most humbly beseech you to deign to forgive my clumsiness; I shall prostrate myself in apology in whatever manner you require.”

When she spoke these words, his reply came with unexpected gentleness. “I forgive you.” he declared abruptly, without explanation. The two let out a sigh of relief—but suddenly—

“Your negligence is a trivial matter. “However, as for the master of this house—” He began to say—then stopped short. Because it had become clear that when he said “master,” he meant the true master who was not present there, the two were now further alarmed. “In truth, he is my close acquaintance indeed.” he declared. The two were as shocked as if a great bell had been struck. They could not tell whether this was falsehood or truth; with no means to foresee how this would conclude, their very beings were once again consumed by alternating waves of fiery anxiety and icy dread. The man saw that and turned his tight-lipped grin into a broad, smirking grin,

“Ha ha ha! Fret not—your master presently resides beyond the seas, you see.” “Rest easy.” “There’s no way to tell you how tonight will end, even if I wanted.” “Till his return, you might as well dwell in an unassailable castle.” “Do as you will, you wretches.” “Revel if revelry pleases you.” “I’ll hinder none—a righteous deed indeed.” “Until the master’s return, no bond exists betwixt me and you vermin.” “I take my leave.” “So be it.” “What manner of fool takes me for?” “We’ve no dealings with each other.” “Squander your days as you choose, curs.” “Ha ha ha ha ha! When our noble Shogun kept court at Kawachi Shōkaku-ji, he amused himself with Katsura courtesans—’tis all one and the same, you see! Ha ha ha ha ha!”

He laughed mockingly. The two pressed their heads to the tatami and apologized. In the meantime, the man stood up, quickly stowed the flute in his pocket, and started walking out. The snow-soiled toes of his leather tabi left dotted traces upon the beautiful blue-green tatami.

**Middle**

Since the Nanboku-chō period, Sakai had been thriving. The fact that in the nineteenth year of Shōhei, the Analects was published here through the efforts of one Michisuke, and other texts such as the Wen Xuan were produced, speaks to how it had already become a prosperous region of thriving households and rich culture. After Yamana Ujiyoshi became the Shugo of Izumi Province, referred to it as Izumi-fu and established his base here, by the Ōei era Ōuchi Yoshihiro had been granted this land by the shogunate. The Ōuchi were great daimyō of western Japan; moreover, as it was a strategic hub connecting Shikoku, Chūgoku, Kyushu, and other regions to the capital, it achieved significant development politically, commercially, and economically, growing ever more prosperous. Whether because the Ōuchi clan possessed Western knowledge or because Sakai’s residents had acquired such knowledge through foreign trade, castles in our land typically stood isolated—most often outside towns, which themselves customarily lacked any defenses—yet Sakai encircled its streets with moats, fortified its entrances and exits with heavy wooden gates, and presented an appearance akin to Chinese-style walled cities. In the turbulent age, such a structure naturally led the people to realize both the advantage and urgency of governing themselves. Those engaged in foreign trade at the time were naturally among the city’s wealthy; they possessed knowledge and skill, and thus influence. They also maintained a degree of military force—though it seems comical to call it such—having subordinates and servants who acted as makeshift soldiers, enabling them to actualize their power. Thus it came about—whether through their power coming to reign over civic-minded citizens or through citizens uniting around that power and taking pleasure in securing their own lives in stability and happiness—that something resembling an autonomous system gradually took form, leading them to entrust municipal governance to a group of several wealthy merchant houses and magnates within the city. To maintain the authority of the gates and secure peace by preventing disturbances and dangerous incidents in the town, they were also endowed with police-like authority. They were also endowed with the authority to adjudicate the multitude of civil litigation disputes, as well as criminal cases that were not too grave and did not arise between samurai. They were also entrusted with handling the imposition of taxes and labor levies from public authorities, among other matters. Indeed, the emergence of such quasi-public intermediaries arose from necessity in this great, vibrant town striving toward prosperity—and moreover, compared to magistrates of feudal lords who changed as swiftly as a cat’s pupils—magistrates of this war-torn age who saw the people merely as taxpayers—these intermediaries may well have loved their land somewhat more, sought its advantage, and brought happiness to its people. Thus, even the Ashikaga shogunate, feudal lords, and magistrates gradually came to acknowledge this. These people were at that time called the merchant guilds or warehouse-lending guilds, and when their membership was fixed at ten, they were referred to as the Ten Guildsmen. The term *naya* refers to warehouses. At a time when transportation convenience was not yet fully developed and commercial institutions remained rudimentary, it goes without saying that reliable warehouses were nearly the sole necessity for this great commercial city. The warehouse-lending guilds, possessing many trusted warehouses which they rented out and likely provided commercial conveniences for their inventory, must have served both the public good and their own interests. The Sakai merchants Kojima Tarōzaemon, Yukawa Sen'a, Kojima Saburōzaemon, and others who had engaged in foreign trade from early on may have become the ancestors of the merchant guilds. Moreover, the merchant guilds were almost all engaged in trade with Korea, Ming China, and the South Seas regions, operating large capitals and naturally not shying away from adventurous endeavors—dispatching their ships across vast distances and even personally undertaking voyages for inspections—tasks that could only be accomplished by individuals of no ordinary caliber. Thus, even those who were not wealthy—indeed, even those starting from nothing—had to possess formidable courage and sound management to command their stewards, clerks, ship captains, and other shrewd or rough individuals. It was likely for this reason that they were both respected and relied upon by the townspeople, and through this mutual support between the merchant guilds and the citizens, Sakai’s prosperity grew with each passing month and year. Later on, even one such as he who came to be called Ruson Sukezaemon for his travels to Luzon during the Tenshō era—who amassed immense wealth, built a splendid mansion, and posthumously had it transformed into Daian-ji Temple—he too was of the merchant guilds.

During the Eiroku era when the Miyoshi clan ruled Sakai, they were called the Thirty-Six Guildsmen, with Notoya and Enjiya at their head. When it came to Nobunaga, in his desire for centralized authority, he detested the merchant guilds' obstinacy, had them killed and displayed their severed heads, to such an extent that he had no choice but to terrorize the populace. No—to speak of such later matters and elaborate on what the merchant guilds were in Sakai is unnecessary, for this occurred two years prior to the time of our tale: in Entoku 3. After Ōuchi Yoshihiro’s demise, Sakai became Hosokawa territory. Yet even Hosokawa Masamoto—a man of shrewd intellect who deftly navigated shifting tides, ruthless and severe, feared as a practitioner of Izuna arts and sorcery—could not fully quell disputes when he appointed his most trusted retainer, Yasutomi Motōie, as magistrate of the southern estates here. Neither Masamoto’s authority nor Motōie’s renown sufficed to settle the matter. The Yasutomi were a formidable presence in the Hosokawa household. During the terrible upheaval of the Ōnin War, when several valiant commanders of the enemy Yamana faction desperately sought to strike down their target through life-and-death struggles, it was Yasutomi Yukitsuna whose hard-won defeat brought them bitter triumph. Though they were struck down once more, it was Yasutomi Kishirō who, at the Battle of Shōkaku-ji, threatened the enemy commander Yamana Sōzen—forcing the aged great monk into a desperate struggle that drenched him in cold sweat. That even Motōie of the renowned Yasutomi clan could not bring order despite wielding the authority of Shogunal Deputy Hosokawa Masamoto—why could he not? It was none other than the merchant guilds’ obstinacy. In this city of such pride—a great commercial hub, a land of wealth and ceaseless bustle, where shrewd-bellied men who had entrenched themselves like dragons stretched their reach across seas to Korea, Ming China, Ryukyu, and the farthest South Seas, exhaling a peculiar air of enterprise as they inhaled oceanic winds; a place where its people surely could not openly defy the proverb that “one cannot overcome crying children and feudal magistrates,” yet privately regarded those magistrates—wartime magistrates, magistrates greedy only for coin—as mere infants wailing for candy; a land where culture flourished and even scholarly arts and entertainments excelled—within Sakai’s Ōshōji district southward, among the grand residences of the southern estates, in the innermost quarters of Enjiya, foremost among merchant guilds, there sat in a lovely small room facing an inner garden, to the right of a charcoal brazier radiating warmth and comfort, a plump-cheeked man in his fifties with a clear russet complexion and jovial demeanor.

“Hmm.” He listened with an air of brushing it aside. His tone dismissed it as trivial. In response, the woman pressed herself low against the floorboards in profound deference—yet her trembling stemmed not merely from her servant’s station, but from fear and sorrow made evident by the faint ripples at the center of her lowered head’s hair tie. Her entreaty blazed with the desperation of one cornered. “……”

“……”

For a time, neither spoke. Though feigning nonchalance, the Retired Vermilion Merchant was likely pondering something within his monk-like large glossy forehead; he maintained a pleasant facade, but his eyes watched with a gaze that seemed to pierce through the woman’s lowered head. The woman, unable to endure the lack of any response to her proposal, finally raised her head slightly. The glistening of her beseeching eyes, fraught with anguish; the crimson flush upon her cheeks as her young heart strained—any who saw her would find it heartrending.

“If that is how matters stand, then... I beseech your honor to deign to retrieve that item before his lordship’s return.”

And once again, she bowed her head from the depths of her heart. And,

“As your honor well knows, his lordship’s return draws near. When he returns, he will certainly go straight to that cherished item he has long favored and kept close at hand—for though he has not played with it of late, his heart will naturally turn there. Should that treasured possession be found missing then, not only would my lady have no recourse to explain, but who knows what calamity might follow. Her ladyship’s grave concern is no trivial matter. Therefore, in accordance with her most earnest entreaty—deeming this a matter of life and death—I implore you to arrange for its return into my hands, and…”

The phrase "a matter of life and death" had been uttered in a low voice, yet could not escape notice. "What? Life and death?" Though the Retired Vermilion Merchant had only lightly reproached her for using such supreme language, to the maid—whose words had found their mark—this seemed encouraging enough to embolden her further. "Yes, just as you say." "If that flute of his should prove truly lost, then even we...what manner of..."

“No, I’ve long known my son-in-law treasures that flute as irreplaceable... but in the end, it’s merely an old pipe.” “Hahaha! How could my daughter’s life hinge on such trifles?” “Return and tell her I’ll offer my apologies—no cause for concern, mark you.”

"They say women grow timid once wedded," he mused, "but that daughter of mine—who in her girlhood was such a headstrong handful—appears to hold her husband in such esteem she's become the very model of womanly decorum. A fine thing too, born of mutual devotion between spouses." His laughter rumbled like settling timber. "Hahaha." "……"

“Still don’t understand? Listen well—I forcibly borrowed it here, and though mocked that seventh-hour rains and artistry past fifty could never harmonize, I practiced diligently. When taking it out to some deserted spot and returning, I dropped it unnoticed. Though I searched upon realizing, it was nowhere to be found—a regrettable blunder. Were I to bow deeply in apology, my son-in-law might puff his cheeks but could hardly protest.” “Very well—I’ll dispatch someone to Kyoto. Have them check five or six impoverished court nobles’ residences, and we’ll acquire some famed flute resembling that one—perhaps one said to have been owned by Atsumori or another notable—far superior in quality. Such treasures can be had effortlessly with coin.” “Offer that as replacement with brief apologies.” “That will settle everything conclusively.” “Even if dissatisfaction lingers in my son-in-law’s heart, he cannot claim his anger remains unappeased.” “Should the substitute item be sufficiently splendid, he’ll instead feel gratified and obliged.” “Understood now?……Return and relay this properly.”

Burdened with circumstances she could not openly discuss and having mentioned only the matter of the flute, the woman now found herself dexterously outmaneuvered and utterly cornered. Even if she had wanted to speak, she could not.

“……” She did not know what to say. However, no matter what, returning like this would be of no use. In this state, no matter what, she could not return. There was flax aplenty in the moss, yet the torment lay in finding no thread to pull. No—the thread to pull lay clear before her. If she could but yank it free, the matter would be settled. Yet she could not draw it forth, forced instead to seek another thread that by all reason did not exist—and so her heart writhed in this torment of having no means whatsoever.

“……”

At the unexpected sight of her—unable to raise her head, unable to utter a sound, turned to stone—even the Retired Vermilion Merchant finally sensed there was something here beyond his grasp. That sensation grew steadily deeper. And though there could be no doubt that within this lay some demon that ought to be the target for his arrows of wisdom, he could not discern where it lurked—tormented by the anguish of not knowing where to aim the weapon he relied upon, and further enraged by the humiliation of having loosed an arrow moments before only to have it strike nothingness, rendered utterly futile. The Retired Vermilion Merchant was no longer quite himself. Even so, he did not raise a shrill voice, and with gentle intent—as if tending to this pitiful woman—

“Would that be inadvisable?” he inquired. It was a tone attainable only through astonishing worldly training and discipline. The woman—drawn by that tone yet crushed under the self-awareness that she could not say “That would be inadvisable”—acted involuntarily—

“Y-Yes.”

As she answered, she burst into tears—stifled yet violent sobs wracking her frame. Anguish exploded. “Everything—absolutely everything—has arisen from my terrible blunder.” There was nothing to do but blame herself—but even as she did so, the realization that mere self-reproach would not suffice surged up immediately from the depths of her chest, “Her ladyship has been subjected to severe hardship. If that man who took the flute were to present it as evidence to our master upon his return and speak ill of her ladyship—with such proof in hand, there would be no recourse—and her ladyship would face dire circumstances. That is why I came here in desperation—to beg your honor, who has the means to act freely, to retrieve it by any means necessary. If you bid me die, I would gladly die here or anywhere else—only I beg you, may this wish be granted.”

Stammering incoherently, she insisted that any substitute would be utterly useless. Unaware of what underlying circumstances existed yet sensing something grave, the Retired Vermilion Merchant’s face grew stern. “Hmm.” He let slip a single abrupt remark before falling silent for some time. His eyes closed halfway. Yet his face showed no contorted anguish—it remained sunken, as though pondering a Go move. “What manner of man is this thief?” “His countenance?”

“He had a broad forehead and high-bridged nose, long-lashed eyes that slanted sharply upward at the outer corners, ears almost lacking lobes, a slender chin framing an oval face—with a thin mustache above and sparse beard below—all set upon a tall, willowy frame.”

“Hmm… So—a ronin or a townsman?”

“His status was that of a townsman, but he carried a short sword.” “Your astute honor concludes he’s surely a ronin...” The woman answered as she was questioned. Not that he was reproaching her for it, “Both my daughter and you—being so acquainted with him—why did you let him take such an important thing?”

When posed with this inevitable doubt voiced in its natural tone, the woman froze at the impasse— "That... that comes from my own unimaginable failing." Taking full responsibility upon herself, she stated resolutely. Then she wept again from anguish. The Retired Vermilion Merchant's face sank into bewilderment and began visibly contorting. However,

“Now, now—I’m not blaming you. I ask only because I don’t understand. So even if you recognized his face, you naturally wouldn’t know his name. He’s not someone you’ve known for long.” Though claiming not to blame her, he pressed the accusation. “Yes. Yes. It was taken by someone I first saw that very night.” “Yes.” “It was taken by someone I first saw that very night.”

she answered. “Hmm…” “There’s no conceivable way you would have colluded to let it be stolen.” “Measures have been taken against infiltration, and in these perilous times—even were two or three ruffians to force their way in—this household employs guards precisely to prevent such brazen thefts.” “Yet you claim this vital item was taken by a stranger whose face you recognized? Hmm…” “And you insist all this stems from your dreadful error.” “So racked by guilt you’d surrender your very life—is that it?”

“Yes—if it would serve her noble ladyship, even now I would…” She raised her crimson face, her glinting eyes straining with desperate resolve as she briefly met the old master’s gaze—then suddenly collapsed in a heap. Her hair flowed down from her nape, its ends disheveled. Truly, even were she told “I’ll take your head now,” she seemed resolved not to retreat an inch. The sincerity of one’s heart possesses divine power. This woman’s heartfelt sincerity must have resonated within the old master’s heart. The master’s face had lost all traces of sweetness or bitterness, leaving only resolute and unwavering seriousness. It was a countenance filled with solemn authority—transcending self-interest—that sought only true interpretation and steadfast judgment.

“And what concern is there that this man might have something to say to your master?” “What matter?” “What could…”

The tip of the arrowhead touched dead center of the target. The woman could do nothing. She could do nothing but hold her breath, as though ready to die right then and there.

…………

“…………”

A terrifying silence lingered for a time. And though that silence lasted but mere moments, it felt as long as three asamkhyeya kalpas.

“Chirp, chirp, chir-chirp.”

A few sparrows that had flown into the garden trees hopped from branch to branch, following one another as they chirped affectionately, as if exchanging some tale.

“Snitching... evidence... this will spell disaster... Hmm—”

The master, who had been muttering to himself under his breath, suddenly—

“Ah!”

he was thrown into great turmoil—as if struck down by some terrifying force—but immediately,

“Mph.”

He pressed his lips together and restrained himself. He lost his composure. He made a great effort. He now mustered all the courage in his body. Courage prevailed. His face turned red. “Ah…”

With that single sigh, all that had passed was buried and done with,

“Very well. “Even if a child does things to worry and torment their parent, the parent will always cherish them. “I have no intention of making any excuses for it. She’s so dear—I must help her…” he said, as if appraising himself to himself. Certainly, it had not been said to the woman before him. However, his tone was so somber that even this clever woman could not possibly return and forget to relay it to her master.

All circumstances had been discerned.

The woman’s eloquence, demeanor, and genuine sentiment—without ever touching upon the primary cause of this affair, namely my mistress’s misconduct, nor infringing upon this household’s old master’s dignity—had skillfully made this household’s master comprehend the necessity of retrieving a single flute, had entreated his aid, and had now reached the very brink of achieving her objective. The seasoned worldly experience, meticulous observation, and keen insight of this household’s master had discerned everything; by wielding that power, he sought to prevent the impending collapse of misfortune. Moreover, even amidst all this, the old master had not forgotten to win over people’s hearts.

“Understood,” “I’ll handle it as you say.” “Still, you’re of commendable caliber.” “Mistakes are time’s demons—I’ll forgive you.” “Eloquent speech, admirable disposition, commendably deep loyalty.” “In time, I’ll find you a good man and have him rise to prominence.” When he added this and gazed at her with gentle eyes, he had reverted to being the jolly old man of before. The woman merely bowed her head in silent gratitude. “Though what’s regrettable—had you made one more effort then, it would’ve sufficed.” “But expecting such thoroughness was unreasonable.” “I wonder if he didn’t consider that far.”

“Regarding what you have stated—” “Well now, though it’s something that would’ve been easily uncovered with a little investigation—so perhaps it’s just as well—the fact that we were perceived by that scoundrel as belonging to such-and-such a household, yet we ended up without even a rough notion of who or where that man might be—that was a poor showing on our part.”

When he said this as an aside, the maid suddenly raised her head with a courageous expression and, though in a soft voice, “Yes, regarding that matter—after first letting the man depart, I immediately prepared myself and, wearing low clogs without a lantern, followed his figure—a solitary black speck visible in the distance along the fortunately snowy night path—ensuring he remained unaware.”

As she began to speak, the old master involuntarily let out a sound, “What? You mean to say you followed him immediately?” “Yes—making sure he didn’t notice... keeping sight of him... all while fretting over what I’d do if he caught me instead—my feet aching from the cold, my body frozen stiff—yet I pushed through with all my strength and finally managed to track him down.”

The master, utterly impressed, leaned forward, “Oh! “Ah! You’re quite something!” “Well done.” “Coming up with the idea was remarkable enough, but to have actually tailed him to the end—my word, that’s terrifying.” “For a woman, you possess terrifying pluck.” “And then…”

“Oh no, it was entirely due to your honor’s guidance… I only put all my effort into atoning for my own failure.” “And it was precisely because of the snow’s blanket-like brightness that—though I kept such distance I might have lost him—his tall form stayed visible ahead, while on my part, wearing nothing but a faded white sedge hat and a thin cord tied about my waist, I managed it all without once arousing suspicion.”

“Hmm. “And where did that man take refuge?” “To the south of Shionana—or so I believe—about a little over one chō away, where the houses grew sparse, at the edge of seven or eight scattered pine trees, there stood what seemed an old wealthy farmer’s house—or something of the sort—with a relatively high roof ridge. There his figure vanished from sight.” “The seven or eight scattered pines serve as fixed markers.”

“Hmm. Good.” “It will soon be uncovered.” “Ah! Though this harsh world makes everyone shrewd, must even women and children resort to such extremes?” “Very well. Unpleasant though it may be, I’ll manage it somehow.”

Having shown strong resolve, he suddenly looked around his surroundings and took a small object that had been serving as a paperweight nearby. “Take it.”

and gave it to the woman. It seemed to be a temporary reward. It was a beautifully and exquisitely crafted object—perhaps a Tang dynasty suanni or something similar—in golden and emerald hues. On the pale paper laid upon the tatami mat, the small treasure radiated its noble brilliance. The woman was prostrating herself before it.

*Chirp, chirp, chir-chir.*

A sparrow’s chirp pierced the momentary stillness.

Below

At the outskirts of Funato Matsumura Village, where the local moniker "Nine Pines" stubbornly persisted, the trees—aged, withered, and gaunt—stood on the brink of lifeless decay: some half-stripped of bark, others leaning precariously, their pitiful forms shaped by nature’s relentless winds and lingering snows, bereft of human care. Among them stood a solitary house that might once have been grand but now remained only as evidence of ill-fated fortune. Beyond it lay further ruin: a crumbling stable rotting apart from the main building, a narrow granary collapsed with its roof-edge slanting into the earth. This desolation spoke of four or five years since it had likely been abandoned—dubbed a haunted mansion by fearful tongues. Yet within that sprawling main house’s vast reception room—its floor a patchwork of aged tatami mats riddled with gaps and unevenness, its lower wooden door ill-fitted with two inches of space gaping at both threshold and lintel, its upper sliding doors missing pulls so that their depths pooled a yōkai-eye gloom—two figures sat calmly facing each other, their positions divided as host and guest. The guest wore a voluminous dark brown kosode robe that exuded warmth, paired with a slightly lighter kataginu jacket of the same color—its sleeves narrow in width—and matching hakama trousers. Courteous demeanor, hearty smile. In stark contrast, the master wore wilted, soiled garments tinged black—not that he appeared cold in them—but his emaciated frame revealed itself through angular, wrathful shoulders that rose like a frost-crowned crag standing resolute. His dignified, imposingly tall seated figure exuded an aura that made approaching him unthinkable. Yet contrary to his bearing, his face alone held a strangely fixed smile, his eyes revealing no trace of austerity—a disquieting sight that seemed less a natural expression than a mask this man had lately borrowed from somewhere and now wore.

In one corner of the seating area sat a large serving tray with stubby legs bearing a single load of willow barrels. This was undoubtedly something the guest had ordered his attendant to transport here as an offering.

A small bell suddenly rang out from somewhere. Neither master nor guest particularly pricked up their ears at the sound, yet the master realized the guest had heard it, just as the guest perceived the master's awareness. The guest recognized this as the ill-ringing bell from the neck of that young dog—the one that had darted out playfully around his feet when he first arrived at this house. Thus he understood newcomers must have approached. But when the feeble old peasant-turned-servant went muttering to the entrance, whether she saw them off or welcomed them remained unclear—no word ever reached them.

The master once again assumed his stiff smile,

“Ah! Both Ryokyū Zenbō’s tale and the world’s idle chatter—each proved most diverting.” “Though this marks our first meeting, I feel as though we’ve shared ten years’ acquaintance.” “Your gracious words bring me utmost satisfaction.” “As certain wise ones say—‘When hearts meet naturally, good follows; when forced together, ill ensues.’ Truly, companions whose tempers do not war with one another—how fondly such harmony stirs the soul.”

“The arrogant allies split into west and east, the unassuming allies gathered in the west and east, and thus the foolish Ōnin War erupted, I suppose.” “Ha ha ha ha!”

“Nay, it cannot be solely that. Profit-and-loss calculations must have been a major factor in creating divisions.” “This business of profit and loss always manipulating people—it’s infuriating. If only those not swayed by profit and loss existed, the world would be smoothly governed—and yet.” “Ha ha ha! Now there is another interesting matter at hand. First, since seven or eight parts out of ten in this world are occupied by those not without pursuit of gain, were those who pursue gain assuredly to gain, the world would swiftly be ordered—yet it so often happens that those destined to take gain instead suffer loss, while those destined to suffer loss unexpectedly reap it. Thus does the world become twofold or threefold ungovernable, would you not agree?”

“That’s interesting.” “Therefore, the world must set its heart on those who are not swayed by profit and loss.” “However, those who would side with a cause they can clearly see as destined to lose—such individuals are few in this present age, and indeed in any age.” “Therefore, since there is no reason why a commander who remains unswayed by profit and loss would have more banners rallying to his side, the world remains in disarray.” “It’s infuriating! There’s nothing to be done but cut down every last one of those clever bastards who think only of profit and loss.”

“However, though it may be presumptuous of me to say,”

[lowered his voice and continued solemnly],

“As in the recent battle at Shōkaku-ji—where Lords Momoi, Kyōgoku, Yamana, Isshiki, and even Lord Hosokawa were beheaded—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 existed, they proved futile in the end: striking back was beyond our strength. The Shogun was captured; the Shogunal Deputy committed ritual suicide. As for loyalists who disregarded profit and loss—abandoning the world to become monks—they had entirely transcended such calculations.” “Their character is truly admirable, but even if we produce nothing but renunciant monks, it stands to reason that good people will diminish in the world.” “Again, many of the Shogunal Deputy’s vassals have committed seppuku—proper samurai conduct though that may be—but from society’s perspective, it stands to reason that by that very act, those good people who would take their own lives for righteousness have diminished in number.” “Given this, there is no reason for society’s future to improve.” “By all means, if we do not turn our minds to improving society as a whole, I believe that no matter how much time passes, the day will never come when we escape the torments of spears and swords—the suffering of Asura’s realm.”

As the master listened to talk of the Shogun and Shogunal Deputy—perhaps having grown somewhat agitated—the fixed smile that had relaxed his features tightened slightly and stiffened; but straining to suppress this change, he produced a hollow, desiccated laugh, “Ha ha ha! Exactly. When Ryokyū was still a layman—he must have been taught this somewhere—two clay oxen, locked in desperate struggle, plunged into the sea. That’s what this world is like, he declared.” “Clay oxen, clay dolls—all are clay oxen, clay dolls.” “Who in this world truly wishes from the bottom of their heart to improve society as a whole?” “Even if there were those who think that way, where would one find someone who knows how to make society better—who knows such a path?” “Because they do not know the way, they seek techniques.” “Using technique, they first make their own horns splendid, strengthen their own muscles and bones, and try to enlarge their own bodies.” “At that stage, it’s still conflict.” “Even if one claims to be a disciple of Atago, practices the black arts of Izuna Atago, endures the bitter trials of women’s exclusion, chants sutras and mantras, forms mudras, maintains spells, and seeks to soar into the void—all to make the world prostrate itself under demonic ways—such fools strut about, molding the Shogun into a crude clay figurine.” “That is the present age.” “Infuriating, isn’t it?” “For those who know neither the Way nor techniques, who lack lineage or status, who rely solely on their martial prowess—they mercilessly cut down whoever displeases them, and when their time comes, they stumble headlong into the sea.” “If one lives with such a clear state of mind and survives through it all, then dying tonight would be acceptable—and that too would naturally serve the world’s benefit.” “Ha ha ha ha ha ha!”

“Thus the world remains forever in the realm of Asura... and you are its Qu Yuan.”

“Qu Yuan, you say?” “He who maintained a heart both severe and pure, yet found no acceptance from his lord nor the world, casting himself into the Miluo to perish.” “Hmph, hmph.” “Ah! I’ll not die meekly—a raging Qu Yuan, am I?” “Ha ha ha ha!”

“He who renounced the world and plunged into the Buddhist path—that Ryōkyū Zenbō is a meek Qu Yuan.” “Ha ha, ha ha. He’s a good man, but entering Zen—what a petty fellow.” “Pray forgive my impertinence—but even a raging Qu Yuan, lost in single-minded slaughter, who would die tonight without regret…” “From your exhaustive opinions…” “Would that not be petty? I would like to say.”

“Ha ha ha!” “What nonsense.” “Using a ruler to measure the sea’s depth.” “Even when the ruler’s length ends, it does not mean the sea is exhausted.” “The samurai’s present age is one world; the Buddhist path’s realm another; Japan itself yet another.” “Yet these do not exhaust all worlds.” “Korea, Cathay, Siam, Cambodia, Sumatra, Annam, India—the world stretches endlessly.” “Though this world may chafe you, others remain unchafed.” “Were one to launch a great ship from Fujishiro in Kii—forty or fifty sails catching an east-northeast wind—this vexing world would stay behind in an instant, while that other world appears yonder.” Different starlight bathes different mountains—there must exist worlds of wondrous fascination. From the vantage of vast overseas trade spanning countless realms: consider one who tries to soothe his spleen with a single sword that cannot cut down even a few men—who resolves to die without regret when his hour comes. Though noble in spirit, his vision remains narrow; his world confined by petty limits breeds equally petty desires. “For there exists this realm too: standing warrior-like upon a great ship that has braved open seas—crowned with starry heavens and lashed by winds across ten thousand leagues—facing an unknowable world.”

Just as he began to speak, the dog’s bell clattered incessantly, and it became clear that several people had come visiting this house once more. At this moment, the master let out another broad laugh, his eyes fixed directly on the guest,

“How your extensive overseas trade must indeed be truly pleasant.” “Such petty irritations would be trivial enough to forget.” “But consider—while standing on that vast sea, buffeted by winds spanning ten thousand leagues, admiring the azure sky’s radiance... suppose you were to learn that in your homeland’s house—the home you ought to return to—your most beloved wife has been conducting herself improperly... that her servant carelessly... admitted some stranger... and that this miserly man made off with damning evidence... Even amidst that boundless sea, even within your grand designs—would not some petty irritation still arise?”

And three to of filthy water was dashed over him from the front. The guest, aghast, suddenly drew back his left knee and cast a single glance at the master, but immediately prostrated himself, unable to raise his head for some time. But true to his seasoned years. “I am humbled.” With a single phrase—just one—he settled everything,

“Having maintained acquaintance with Ryōkyū Zenbō both during his lay life and after ordination, I used this connection to inquire of him. He spoke unreservedly on various matters, and though impertinent to remark, I observed his demeanor and convictions to be as uniquely distinguished as rumored—so much that I forgot myself and spoke my crude opinions without restraint. Yet ultimately, when it came to voicing my desire to receive the item we now discuss, I found myself unable to broach it directly. Thus did I ramble this way and that—though let it be clear this digression contains no falsehood or embellishment, as you see before you a mere savage.” “By the esteemed bond of your acquaintance with Ryōkyū Zenbō, I beseech you to graciously discern my utmost sincerity and deign to return said item even unto one as lowly as myself.” “Though my rudeness defies measure and your rebuke lies beyond my reckoning, I humbly beseech you to recognize me henceforth as one who shall everlastingly serve your interests through deepened acquaintance. Moreover, I shall soon visit with Ryōkyū Zenbō in attendance to pay my respects and come forth in gratitude—profoundly indebted to your boundless grace.” “With the bond between parent and child, thus do I beseech you with a sincere heart.”

As he raised his face and fixed his gaze upon the master—tears welling up in his eyes and on the verge of spilling—he lowered his head once more. He was indeed a formidable old man, but in that moment, all traces of his usual joviality and audacity had vanished from his countenance, leaving only solemnity overflowing. However, the master was not one to be outdone by such.

“I refuse.”

he flatly rebuffed. He had not even smirked; he was utterly disgusted. “You may find this disagreeable, but I beseech you to reconsider… I beseech you, I beseech you—it concerns my daughter’s very life.” “…………” “For that long-lived thing may yet become something most dreadful.” “…………”

“By all means—I cannot simply stand by and watch.” “I will revere you as both Buddha and god.” “I beseech you, I beseech you—show your mercy.” “…………”

“I will do anything whatsoever.” “If you would but deign to return that item—whatever you command—I shall surely do exactly as you say.” “I beseech you—deign to command me to do anything at all.” “I beseech you, I beseech you.” “…………” “Even though I have pleaded to such an extent—you do not deign to respond with either approval or disapproval—how heartless.” “What is your intention regarding us? And what do you intend to do with that item?” “What could I possibly offer that would be of service to you?”

“As for you all—whatever you may become—I hold no such thoughts.” “To meddle officiously in others’ affairs—this I find utterly detestable.” “You aboard your ship must manage matters as you see fit.” “It concerns me not in the slightest.”

“How cold and severe… What do you intend with his item?” “As for his item—once the person on the ship returns, I shall meet them and explain such-and-such circumstances and such-and-such situations we faced, then hand it over with the words: ‘This was temporarily taken back as evidence of that time; since it is originally your possession, I return it to you.’ That alone is what I must do.”

“Why must you be so resolutely determined to act in such a manner?” “It is an age of extreme duplicity and reversal.” “Can you even conceive—what became of them when the Shogun and Shogunal Deputy attacked Sōshū?” “Sōshū were attacked precisely because they supported me.” “Yet Hosokawa, Yamana, Isshiki and their ilk first dispatched the Shogun and Deputy—let them grow bored during protracted sieges until they summoned Katsura courtesans to their encampments—while leisurely assembling their own forces. Then they suddenly rose, surrounded them from all quarters, and when their treacherous scheme ripened, the Deputy took his own life.” “When those left behind abruptly turn enemy and assail absent comrades, destruction becomes inevitable for those afar.” “A world of terrifying duplicity.” “Moreover, even were I to declare your wife has committed such improprieties—without proof, ’twould be mere slander.” “Should a man be swayed by feminine eloquence, he’d deem me suspect instead—why doubt his own wife to trust outsiders?” “In such matters generally—even were I their house’s hereditary retainer, one famed for loyalty—carelessly voicing these truths would see me cast down by knaves into bitter hardship; such examples abound.” “Nor is this world lacking in women cunning enough to scheme in shadows—when delusions fester, they bring husbands ruin at crucial hours.” “Should I withhold evidence from that person, their future grows dreadfully uncertain—and I become a follower of heretical paths aiding evil over good.” “This world teems with such demonic followers.” “The Shogun’s overthrow and Deputy’s slaying—all deeds of these acolytes.” “They feign ignorance—never lifting a finger beyond self-interest—rotting placidly through existence. Though taking no direct hand, they watch righteous men wither and wicked prosper—these irritant vermin swarming society.” “Each such insect I’d gladly cut down.” “Would I become such vermin?” “In this thorn-strewn world, given my station—I rise at dawn expecting not to see dusk, sleep at night doubting morning’s warmth. Each moment spent bracing—shall I fall on my sword here or be cut down?” “Lately more than ever—I burn to charge spear-thickets and leap into raging flames.” “To crush more irritants and cut down more foes—what need for restraint or deliberation?”

“You excel in both appearance and bearing; your unique character proves intriguing. Though we have conversed until now, I cannot grant your request.”

He was sternly refused with mingled emotion; cast aside unrighteously with no means to cling. “Even though I have pleaded with such utmost sincerity.” “I refuse.” “Gold, silver, treasures—whatever you deign to desire, I shall arrange them all.”

“I refuse.” “Any manner of assistance you might require—I shall provide it.”

“I refuse.” “If you would but deign to instruct me in any manner whatsoever—even should the Vermilion Merchant’s entire fortune turn to ash—I shall carry out your orders exactly as given, but…”

“I refuse.”

At this point, the elderly guest slowly raised his head. From his lustrously jutting forehead, a gleam shot forth. His clear eyes shot a fleeting glance at the master. But then he immediately lowered his head slightly once more and, in a low-toned, composed voice—

“When a foolish beast is driven to its limits, it will even bite at blades—a pitifully foolish act.” “When people are driven to desperation, they may commit unsavory acts—it is a pitiful thing.” “The Vermilion Merchant is an ignorant man; he is a powerless one.” “Yet I hold not the slightest intention to commit unsavory acts; but for one as righteous and strong as yourself, would it not befit your noble composure to deign to show mercy so as not to drive others to desperation—or so I humbly think…”

Yet though his words emerged thoroughly humble in presentation—their undercurrents of inscrutable intent and tenacious rhetoric—the master, perhaps provoked by this very persistence, grew even more incensed, his voice rising in pitch.

“Indeed?! “For things you cannot obtain through seeking—there’s taking by force; there’s stealing; there’s hiring skilled hands to cut me down; there’s borrowing public authority’s power to have me apprehended as a suspicious rogue.” “Far from ignorant—a man of capability.” “You’re no mere weakling—an enemy far beyond what any caged prisoner could handle.” “Ha ha ha! How amusing.” “I had thought from the very beginning you might not come forth so plainly.” “Against fire, water; against water, earth.” “Preparations to face you stand ready at any hour.”

When he spoke as if hurling abuse, the guest—unflustered—raised both hands in a placating gesture,

“Nothing of the sort! Ha ha ha. “My manner of speaking was improper. “Why on earth would I become such a foolish beast? “I merely spoke out of desperation—with no recourse left—and in excessive longing to receive your gracious response. “Now, once again, I earnestly entreat you with true sincerity. “No matter what it takes—even should I be reduced to ashes—it would be no hardship. I most earnestly entreat you to return that item. “In truth, exactly as I’ve said…”

he bowed low with sincere devotion,

“I refuse.” He declared bluntly. “Even though I have pleaded to such an extent.” “Enough.” “If I say no, it is no.”

The guest’s eyes welled with tears once more. “To call this excessive would find no mercy from you. “Though you keep that item, it brings you no gain—yet for us it touches upon lives themselves... “This cannot be resolved peaceably—but I shall accept your enmity.” “Bear your grudge! Bear it as you please!” “Though you should by rights be no enemy of ours—now you force us to count you as one.” “If you would make yourself my foe—then make yourself my foe in full measure.”

“Then there is no other way left.” “I refuse.” “There is nothing more for us to say to each other.” “Please take your leave—now.”

“Haah!”

Even the stalwart old man was on the verge of breaking into a manly sob—when suddenly, terribly rough footsteps— “Pardon the intrusion.”

At the very moment he spoke, a young man violently slid open the shoji from the engawa side and burst in—his thick forelock resembling caterpillar bristles, his imposing attire of tied hakama and leather tabi socks, jet-black hair, fiery-red face, and gleaming eyes. No older than twenty-three or twenty-four, he planted himself defiantly beside the master, utterly neglecting even a nod toward the Retired Vermilion Merchant. As if disregarding all others present, he fixed his gaze rigidly on the master’s face, eyes piercing like drawn blades. The master blinked rapidly to silence him, but whether comprehending this signal or not, he now swung toward the Retired Vermilion Merchant—meeting his face directly for the first time—and offered a haughty, perfunctory nod.

“I take you to be the Master of the Vermilion House.” “I am the ronin Tange Uzen.”

he introduced himself. The master seemed to find it superfluous but gave a thin smirk and fell utterly silent. The Retired Vermilion Merchant, having stemmed his tears, transformed back into a jovial old man and bowed his head with meticulous courtesy,

“Sakai’s Retired Vermilion Merchant, at your service.” “Might you be related to the late Shogunal Deputy’s household—specifically to Lord Bizen no Kami of your esteemed surname, residing in Minami-Kawachi…” Without letting him finish,

“I am Lord Bizen no Kami’s younger brother.” Having declared proudly, the old man’s head jerked back down—yet only the youth seemed to feel a faint satisfaction, his mood turning agreeable,

“Vermilion Merchant.”

This time, he had already dropped all honorifics. Yet there was no malice in it—only a certain familiarity. “Ha.”

With that, the old man looked into the young man’s eyes. The young man was innocent.

“You there—though I know not what—are desperately requesting some treasure from Lord Kizawa and are troubled because your plea goes unheard, I see.” “Hah.” “What exactly is this treasure?” “…………” “Could it be some kind of miraculous Buddha statue?” “...It is not.” “A treasured sword? A jewel? Or some Chinese import?” “That is not the case.” “Could it be ancient writings or famous paintings from our land or foreign lands?”

“No, it is not that sort of thing.” “Then I cannot fathom it—what manner of thing is this?” “…………”

The master interjected from beside them.

“Mr. Tange, please do not concern yourself. This does not concern you.”

“Hahaha. “To begin with—I detest what people call ‘treasures.’ Labeling moldy old scrolls so ancient they’d blacken your nose just by blowing on them, or trinkets you could crush between two fingers, as ‘treasures’—then having pompous samurai appraise them at years’ worth of land stewardship—it’s all bitter, extravagant folly.” “I know not what Lord Kizawa’s treasure may be, but how about granting it to this old man who desires it so desperately he weeps?” “Hmm—this old man, this Vermilion Merchant—it seems you desire it quite badly.”

“That is indeed the case.” “It is something I desire beyond measure.”

“Hmm… So that’s how it is.” “I heard you offered up even the Vermilion Merchant’s entire fortune if necessary—and this holds true?” “It is precisely as you say.” “I will do whatever it takes.” “Should you grant its transfer, no greater joy could exist for me.” “So it stands confirmed.” “To esteemed figures such as Lord Kizawa Sakyo of this household and the honorable younger brother of Lord Tange Bizen no Kami, the Vermilion Merchant would never utter falsehoods or deceptions.” “In matters of trade, retracting an offer once made is what merchants never do.” “Though the Vermilion Merchant may be verbose, he remains a merchant.” “We are merchants of Sakai in Senshu Province, Japan.” “We are merchants who treat even with Goryeo, Daiming, Annam, Tenjiku, and the Southern Barbarian nations.” “I understand samurai take hostages to prevent broken agreements—but were we to do such things, the merchant’s path could not endure a single day.” “Set your mind at ease—the Vermilion Merchant is a merchant.” “We are merchants of Japan who stand opposed to all nations of the world.”

Having implicitly derided even the samurai class and vented his own resolve, he stirred Uzen—still a mere fledgling—into turmoil. Uzen’s already crimson face flushed redder still.

“Ugh—you’re spouting nonsense now, Vermilion Merchant!” “You’re spouting such sharp-tongued remarks.” “If that’s how it is—Tange Uzen shall grant your request.”

“Ah, this is truly most gracious. “I shall revere you as a god who deigns to aid me.” With a show of sincerity, the Vermilion Merchant prostrated himself, but after a moment, he slightly raised his head and looked at Uzen with an air of unease and sorrow, “Even if you were to say so.”

With a resentful glance toward his master, he suddenly bowed before Tange, “Ah, well... In any case, I humbly ask for your kind efforts. Even if the matter should not come to pass... I would still be deeply indebted to your kindness.” he said dejectedly. The young chick puffed up its neck feathers with such intensity that it seemed ready to burst into action. All pretense of composure had vanished.

A young, resonant voice calling "Lord Kizawa," and

The hoarse, weathered voice that called “Mr. Tange” collided as they spoke simultaneously from both mouths. The arrows of their locked gazes—their arrowheads clashed precisely midair. But Tange’s arrow fell.

Kizawa bore down as if to overwhelm, “Do not concern yourself, Mr. Tange.” “This does not concern you.” “It is simply a trivial matter concerning Sakyo alone.”

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

“Nay, Lord Kizawa. “Though it be discourteous to counter your words, you must have heard this old man’s earlier proposal—his sworn oath to fulfill your will in all matters. “Though called a mere merchant, this Vermilion Merchant stands counted among Sakai’s foremost men—one who wields both wealth and influence. “Truly, as befits the master—a man of considerable stature indeed. “What manner of treasure you hold I know not, but should you grant it to this man and bind him to bear the vow’s burden as sworn—then our scheme—”

As he began to say this, Master Sakyo abruptly halted him with both a look and a gesture, “Do not speak so rashly.” “Enough.” “No matter what you say, I am as I am.” “If we both press our arguments, we will lose any point of resolution.” “I cannot be your opponent.”

With a face twisted in utmost displeasure and attempting to sever the flow of words—Uzen,

“Bwahaha!” Laughing like a great river surging forth, he pressed forward until his knee nearly touched Kizawa’s, forcing his presence upon him, “If it truly becomes a problem should word reach others’ ears—I’ll twist and crush the bastard who heard it." “Vermilion Merchant! How unfortunate that you possess ears—for now I might just twist and kill you! Bwahahaha!” he laughed maniacally. The Vermilion Merchant pretended not to hear, while Kizawa, under this pressure, gradually edged back, growing ever more resolute as his displeasure became unmistakable.

“Mr. Tange, I ask that you speak calmly.” Yet Tange remained defiant, now glaring wide-eyed at Sakyo as he let power gather naturally in the large fist resting on his right knee— “Our plan seems to have offended you—but no matter! No involvement! What’s the use of deliberation now that this chance is lost?” “Tomorrow and the next day—then tomorrow again and the next day—with no arrangements settled, his preparations still incomplete! Since we launched this scheme, the days have stretched endlessly. People’s wisdom may be as it is—but Tange Uzen has grown utterly weary.” “Vermilion Merchant old man—watch out! Your head’s about to fly! After all, what we call our plan—”

He started to say but stopped, glaring fiercely at the master’s face. The master—perhaps now resigned that nothing could be done, or perhaps deeply pondering how to resolve this situation—found no immediate course of action apparent as Uzen pressed his advantage further: “At Lord Shogunal Deputy’s encampment in Kawachi—they fell into the treacherous schemes of those double-hearted comrades! Tens of thousands of enemies attacked suddenly, while our forces were but a small contingent dispatched for subduing Sōshū—with no reinforcements! First we evacuated the Shogun to Tsutsui—then took Lord Naoyoshi, though he was but thirteen—disguised him in the wretched garb of Katsura courtesans! With Taira no Saburo as escort—we fled to Yamato’s remote districts—such humiliation! Such bitter regret!” “On April ninth’s night, when they readied their final cups and sought death with Fujishirou’s blade—they drew it thrice yet it would not cut! Do you comprehend? A masterpiece like Fujishirou’s could never fail! Nor did my lord falter! All stemmed from his compassion—even in extremity, he pondered realm, house, and vassals—a tenderness like Confucius’s reluctance to quit Lu!” “As enemies pressed closer, my brother Bizen no Kami—”

Having spoken this far—now overwhelmed by belated emotion—large teardrops streamed down, “Lest they be overrun by common foot soldiers and bring shame upon his lord’s corpse, Nobukuni of the Kubikakushi drew his blade, thrust through his own thigh twice to test its edge, and finding the temper true, presented it to his lord.” “Now that matters had come to this, he committed honorable suicide. All his close retainers joined him in death. They set the castle ablaze—its ashes now cold. We surviving vassals of his faction hid in grass and crouched in thickets—how could we continue living in this world?” “For months and days we gnashed teeth and clenched fists with resentment piercing our very marrow—those gathered in righteousness with hearts of iron and stone! Forging our schemes through unbreakable bonds, pooling strength to seize the moment when wind would churn clouds—to protect young Lord Naoyoshi and manifest the soaring dragon’s majesty! Our plan now ripens—its hour presses upon us!” “Now that I’ve laid bare such crucial matters, Vermilion Merchant—you won’t leave this seat! You will surely provide arms, provisions, laborers, horses, and carts exactly as we command!” “Japan’s Sakai merchants—their transactions brook no second word, I say!” “The treasure in Lord Kizawa’s possession—I shall receive it from you and dispatch it.” “Would this not be agreeable, Lord Kizawa?” “With all due disrespect, what the world calls treasures are ultimately trivial, worthless things.” “Kindly hand it over willingly.” “This is for the sake of our comrades.” “…the one who remains silent…”

“If I refuse, what will you do?” “What?!” “Nay—there should be no reason for refusal.” “It is precisely because I believed this that I spoke thus.” “Do you truly refuse?” “Would you not have to crush the Vermilion Merchant?” “It remains only as you know full well—yet to appraise me so is beyond reason.” “Hmm.”

“As I said—this matter stands apart. It concerns me alone.” “It is separate from our faction’s affairs.” “To say such a thing—” “So you cling to your miserliness and, out of sheer stubbornness, reject Tange Uzen’s proposal that would plainly benefit the faction—is that it!?”

His eyes changed color. It was as if purple flames gushed forth. He became angry.

“…” “If you cling to such miserliness, what purpose could that possibly serve?” “That serves no purpose whatsoever.”

He declared with infuriating composure and clarity, dismissing the matter. Uzen was dumbfounded, but since the words “It serves no purpose at all” held no falsehood, there was nothing to be done. “You’ve no cause to stubbornly refuse something that serves no purpose.” “Consent now, and our long-cherished ambitions could be fulfilled in an instant.” “Our methods are fully prepared—toppling enemy generals and seizing castles would be as simple as rummaging through a sack! Yet lacking provisions and support, even victories cannot endure—what’s seized risks being reclaimed! That’s why seasoned commanders hesitate...and why you yourself writhe day and night over this!” “Yet when this Vermilion Merchant—a godsend!—makes his offer, for me to present it as a request...how preposterous!” “With gains and losses laid bare—why hesitate? This Uzen finds it baffling!” “Surely Lord Kizawa’s loyalty to his liege isn’t so feeble?”

As he spoke with accusatory force, blue fire seemed to blaze from Sakyo’s eyes. "As befits your station as a youth, take care not to overstep in your speech." "I have no ear for criticism that stops just short of calling my loyalty shallow." "That even you—with your supposedly cool detachment—would speak of such profit-seeking matters when gains and losses are so clear... How absurd." "It irritates me to the point of shuddering." "If one speaks of profit and loss—in this present age where good and evil remain unsettled—to become another’s vassal is loss compounded. Even a talentless fool gains by becoming a lord. Next comes abandoning the world as some monkish recluse—that brings the greatest gain." "People like you and I have no eye for profit and loss." "To conflate bushido—loyalty—with such calculations, jumbling separate matters as one, then demand I submit to your reasoning—" "What? Do you think Kizawa Sakyo’s heart—yearning for his lord and despising the enemy—lags even a fraction behind yours? It is precisely because this resentment pierces our marrow that we initiated this scheme!" "That I know nothing of profit and loss—you find that baffling?" "That is utterly absurd." "It’s not you alone at fault—hey!—this wretched age grates on one’s very soul."

“You speak of things difficult to comprehend—but will you not accept this proposal I, Uzen, have made?”

“...” “I am certain you will comply—now that vital secrets have been laid bare. Should you refuse, neither Uzen nor the Vermilion Merchant could advance or retreat.” “Well...your answer—”

“…” “Whether for your lord’s sake or for the faction’s—if you persist in refusing even now, the matter has already reached its crisis.”

As he resolutely adjusted his stance, the old sliding screens flanking the master’s back were suddenly pulled aside,

“I beg your pardon for this intrusion.” Leading them was a man with a booming voice and a large, imposing face—sallow and corpulent—whereupon people came bustling in to sit encircling Kizawa. The Retired Vermilion Merchant swiftly withdrew; Tange looked up at the man and fixed him with a gaze that seemed to press down— “Tange, this is outrageous! Such insolence from youth!” “Apologize! Apologize!” “Given your junior status—” “That was most disrespectful of you.” “To Lord Kizawa—offer a formal apology thus.” As the man—his corpulent frame wrapped in damask hakama and kataginu—bowed with majestic dignity and performed a gesture of profound formality, his command proved impossible to refuse; Tange had no choice but to flatten his posture and lower his head, though he understood nothing of the reasoning. The great man observed this with a composed expression, neither laughing nor offering praise.

“Good, good. That suffices.” “You’ve apologized well, Tange.” “Lord Kizawa—matters stand as witnessed.” “The fault lies in his abrupt proposal and words that verge on presumption—these stem from youthful artlessness.” “Having received his apology, you must grant pardon.” “Now then, Tange—bow once more with the same heartfelt sincerity and entreat that your proposal be honored.” “I too join in humbly beseeching you—as you have observed.”

With his massive frame—like a small mountain toppling—bowing with utmost propriety before Kizawa, Tange too renewed his— "I humbly beseech you to grant the proposal I have set forth—Lord Kizawa." he declared. The man, who still had not raised his head, with a booming voice— “Yusa Kawachi no Kami, I too humbly make the same request.” and said, “Hey! What are you all so dazed about?” “This is not a bow to the enemy—is it not among comrades, among brothers?”

When he scolded them, they all lowered their heads in unison, “Sugihara Tarōbee, I humbly make the same request.” “Saitō Kurō, I humbly make the same request.”

“Kishi Yoichirō, I humbly make the same request.” “Miyazaki Gōzō…” “Anmi Takuma, I humbly make the same request.”

With gruff voices, gravelly voices, rough voices, shrill voices—voices of every kind—they swirled up in a clamor of entreaties. And the people’s heads could not be raised until Kizawa gave his answer. Tange grew restless. Of course, he intended to rise solely based on Yusa’s unmoving demeanor.

“Lord Yusa, all of you—please cease this.” “We shall handle matters precisely as Lord Tange Uzen has proposed.”

The people all raised their bright faces. Uzen’s face was especially radiant, like a blossoming flower. It was only natural that the Retired Vermilion Merchant was pleased, but Yusa Kawachi no Kami wore an expression as though nothing had occurred. And then he abruptly turned to face the Retired Vermilion Merchant, “Lord Vermilion.” he addressed him with the honorific.

The Retired Vermilion Merchant “Yes.”

he responded with deference, “As you have just heard.” “In that case, we shall dispatch someone from our side to accompany you.” “Lord Kishi Yoichirō, Lord Anmi Takuma—please engage with the Retired Vermilion Merchant and manage all matters appropriately.” “However, ensure that none of these matters become known to the world—for both the Retired Vermilion Merchant’s sake and our own—please exercise utmost discretion.” Ah—how pleasant this was.

“Lord Kizawa—all matters have already been accomplished, and the restoration of the former Shogunal Deputy’s house lies plainly before our eyes.”

When he said this, the people all stirred with excitement and rejoiced. “Am I too being led around by gain and loss?” As though both doubting and lamenting himself, Kizawa glared at a corner of the room.

Not many days later, a sudden night attack was launched against Hirano Castle in Kawachi Province. Castle Commander Momoi Hyōgo and Guest General Isshiki Nanigashi were defeated, and the castle became the stronghold of Yusa Kawachi no Kami and his forces. Their faction gained momentum daily, gradually regained their former influence, welcomed Hatakeyama Naokage—who had been hiding in Yamato—to support him, constructed Takaya Castle in Kawachi as their stronghold, and ultimately enabled Naokage to achieve considerable prominence. On the same night that Hirano Castle fell—though it remained unclear who had done it—a severed head was thrown into the Retired Vermilion Merchant’s estate. It became known that this was a man from the capital’s court nobles who had been teaching various scholarly and artistic disciplines among Sakai’s virtuous townspeople.