Pathway to Japanese Literature

Struck by Vigor

The 30th day of the seventh month of Eiroku 4.

I (Uesugi Kenshin) secretly descended from Kasugayama Castle and went out for a walk to Gochi-no-Umi.
The sole attendant was a novice monk named Ikeda Hōzenbō.
There were times when I grew sick of being a samurai.
There were times when I grew sick of being a samurai myself and of seeing the faces of samurai.
This day especially was such a time.

In March of this year, I attacked Odawara, installed a shogunate deputy in Koga, and even fell ill myself, barely managing to return home by June.
The officers and soldiers were utterly exhausted from the expedition spanning over a hundred days.
Yet I found myself driven by the conviction that I must engage in decisive battle with Takeda Shingen.

He is the villain of our age.
His heart contains not a shred of integrity.
He makes schemes his trade, plotting internal strife in other lands while focusing solely on expanding his own power.

Since Imagawa Yoshimoto was slain by Oda Nobunaga last year, he appears increasingly consumed by the nightmare of unifying the realm under his hegemony, plunging ever deeper into depraved schemes.
A fool’s delusion—laughable, pitiable.

I consider righteousness to be the foundation of life.
There may have been times when I was called upon to wage righteous wars, but I had never once attacked others of my own accord.
I harbor no ambition to rule the realm.
However, I am simply certain that true supremacy lies in possessing the capability to claim the realm.

That monk is a fool.
He believes he can seize the realm through schemes.
He believes that by fomenting internal strife within my domain to pin me down, he can use that respite to march westward and seize the realm.
That very disposition is what I detest.
Unless I crush that monk, my heart shall find no peace.

However, my officers and soldiers were utterly exhausted from the Kantō Expedition that had spanned over a hundred days. They had barely managed to return home in time for Obon and, having filled their bellies with eggplant peel gruel, were only just beginning to regain some color. I could not bear to drive them back to the battlefield. I grew sick of being a samurai.

When I passed through the gate of Gochi's branch temple, there stood an inn atop the sand dunes.

“The bath is ready anytime.”
“There’s a charming maid here too.”
“If you take in the Sea of Japan from the second floor and have a Bai, most troubles’ll fade away.”

Hōzenbō, licking his lips with gusto, eagerly ushered me into the inn, but perhaps feeling a twinge of conscience, procured brush and paper to present a poetic verse.

My chaste body overflows with clear breeze

A thousand armies and ten thousand horses know no retreat.

“Cut the pretentious act.”

I tore up that scrap of paper and discarded it.
Below, the Sea of Japan sparkled like a mirror.
To the left lay Kota Beach; to the right, Naoetsu Beach.
A childlike heart stirred within me.

“I’m going for a quick swim!”

“That’s precisely the thing to do.
I shall have lunch prepared by then.”

As I tried to exit the inn’s back door naked, the woman who had been dozing against the veranda pillar awoke with a start,

“Wear geta.”

She said.
Women are prone to drowsiness after all.
There is no fool who would wear geta while naked on the hundred-meter path descending from the sand dunes to the sea.

However, when I had descended halfway down the sand dunes, I was nearly driven mad by the scorching hell burning against the soles of my feet.
I descended the sand dune like a wild horse and executed a somersault, but the sea still lay a dozen meters away.
I executed two more somersaults and attempted two running long jumps, but still couldn’t reach it. Diving headfirst, I found myself not in the sea but in the tidal flats where waves lapped ashore.
In other words, I had buried half my face in the tidal flat’s sand.
However, even such pain was nothing compared to the scorching hell.

A raucous clamor of laughter erupted throughout the inn.
When I looked up, over fifty women were gazing down from the veranda and laughing at me.

While I was resting after a swim, over fifty women, each now clad in swimsuits and each wearing geta, descended the sand dunes in silence.
The woman at the front was dangling an extra pair of geta,

“Here, I’ll give this to you.”

and thrust it toward my nose.
They were all of considerable age.

“Who might you be?”

“We’re the PTA Women’s League, you know…”

They appeared to be what one might call either heroic women or female power brokers within my domain.
That none recognized me as Kenshin proved fortunate.

They generally surpassed me in aquatic skill—indeed, three or four stalwarts among them swam so far seaward one might think they meant to reach Sado Island, only to return with unruffled composure.
All were of my own age—women of thirty-two or thirty-three bearing faint forehead wrinkles.
Though their features lacked refinement, their bearing radiated unshakable poise.
What I perceived distilled itself into one term: “physical strength.”
Never had I sensed such vigor among battlefield soldiers.

Is physical strength truly combat efficacy?
Or is it merely physical strength?
Whether such physical strength was a force that brought security to Kasugayama Castle or not, my head became slightly confused.

By consuming Bai, I attained enlightenment.

After washing off the seawater in the tiled bath and returning to the second floor, I found Hōzenbō, undeterred, composing another verse to show me.

The boundless sea envelops chastity

PTA women indistinguishable from irises

The visible hue of weariness—this is chastity

"This one’s somewhat better than your last verse."

I threw the scrap of paper back without tearing it.
Hōzenbō let out a dry chuckle,

“All matters boil down to appetite.”
“If you keep eating monk’s fare, you’ll never rise above mediocrity.”
“Now partake of this offering.”
“This is chilled carp.”
“This is fried smelt.”
“And this here is—hey, hey.”
“Maid!”

Hōzenbō frantically called the maid.
And then he scolded her.

“Do you feed your guests mud snails?”

“Don’t talk nonsense.”
“That’s mud snails, isn’t it?”
“It’s Bai, isn’t it.”

“What is Bai?”

“They’re Bai, aren’t they.”

“It’s definitely mud snails, isn’t it?”

“Do mud snails live in the sea?”

“Is this a sea shellfish?”

“Try eating it.”

I picked up one Bai, pulled out something resembling an umbilical cord, and placed it on my tongue.
When I chewed it, it was truly delicious.
The shellfish lacked hardness and melted into my stomach like young plant shoots.
I finished all the Bai on my plate and pulled Hōzenbō’s plate toward me.
Hōzenbō, who had been watching with satisfaction as I ate the Bai, let out a dry cackle and,

“To those accustomed to monk’s fare, mud snails must seem a delicacy.”
“Do take care not to be laughed at by the country maid.”

I finished all the Bai on his plate as well and commanded the maid.

“Bring a large plate heaped with Bai.”

“Yes sir!”

The maid smiled gently, looked back at me with familiarity, and stood up briskly.
Hōzenbō was glaring intently at the maid’s retreating figure,

“Hrm.”
“Do I gotta eat mud snails to get anywhere with the maid?”
“Tch!”
“It can’t be helped.”

Unlike the PTA women leaders, this maid was young and somewhat beautiful.
Hōzenbō seemed to have resignedly chosen to eat mud snails.
However, when he ate the first Bai, his face contorted and he shouted.

“Hrm.”
“Delicious!”
“It’s definitely Bai.”
“This is the taste of the ocean floor!”
“Moreover, it’s a flavor cultivated in considerable depths.”
“First off, that’s right.”
“Thirty fathoms’ worth of flavor, perhaps?”

He began swallowing the Bai like pills.
Before I could eat many, the heaped Bai became empty.
Hōzenbō impatiently commanded the maid without even pausing for breath.

“Bring an even larger plate heaped even higher!”

“You—is it really that good?”

“Delicious, I tell you! I’ve changed my tune! You’re quite the gourmet yourself. Even the ocean floor has its mountains and rivers—all their vital essence concentrated here, you know. This grows in seas seventy-five fathoms deep at least.”

The color of his eyes had changed.
The shift from carnal desire to gluttony had become glaringly apparent.
He voraciously devoured even the third plate of Bai in great haste, called for the maid, and—

“Hey.
“You’ve got a big dish at your place for arranging flowers, right?
“Heap Bai high on that dish and bring it here!”

“Want me to bring the whole barrel?”

“I see.
“That too sounds good.”

“Your eyes have changed.”

The maid left with a mocking laugh but returned carrying an enormous plate heaped with Bai—so large there was no space for it on the table.
The two of them devoured every last morsel, but even Hōzenbō didn’t request a fifth plate.
I too was completely full.

Hōzenbō, having finished eating, lay down and closed his eyes,

“I hadn’t known, you know.”
“Life is deep, and vast.”
“After eating Bai, bid life Bai Bai.”
“Once more, good.”
“Once more, good.”

When I glanced over, he was crying.

I too was seized by an intense state of mind.
What is Bai?
Even if it were truly a mud snail, it would not matter.
The sole reason its existence is revered lies in being consumed by people.
That which would remain but a monster in the water if undying, once dead and consumed by people, moves even Hōzenbō to tears.
The principle of life is made manifest as such.
I too, unless I fulfill my duty and die, would be nothing more than a monster of Kasugayama.

I am a samurai by birth.
If a samurai feels shame and fear toward being a samurai, there can be no reason for his duty to find fulfillment.

I must cut down the despicable Shingen.
Trample that Monk underfoot.
Though the soldiers' hardships weigh heavy, if this too constitutes each one's duty, there remains no alternative.
Kenshin shall become Bai.
You all shall also become Bai.
Let every soul in Kasugayama Castle become Bai.
Though you all fall short of the PTA Women's League in raw vigor, becoming Bai shall suffice.
Kenshin himself trails far behind the PTA Women's League in physical might.
Yet should I become Bai, those very PTA Women's League shall weep for me and sing my praises.
The same holds true for you all.
Become Bai.
You must become Bai.
I shall become Bai.

As I thus achieved perfect enlightenment, when I glanced over, Hōzenbō was wiping his tears while letting out a dry, mad laugh and rising up,

“Now, how much will this bill be?”
“I’ve grown concerned about that.”
“Praising the flavor too extravagantly before paying is ill-advised.”
“It’s only Bai after all.”
“First off, this is your doing.”
“You shouldn’t wolf it down like Raijin devouring belly buttons.”
“People would take you for some yokel who can’t tell bream from sardines.”
“I can’t possibly return to Kasugayama saddled with Bai debt!”

He called the maid and, hiding himself in a corner of the room, whispered about settling the bill, but suddenly burst into mad laughter once more, shoved the maid aside, and began dancing about the room.

“After eating that much, only 350 yen!”
“Four heaping platefuls—four helpings! Only 350 yen!”
“Ahahahahaa!”

His mad antics resembled those of one whose entire body had erupted with fervor after consuming Bai.
I abandoned that spectacle and exited the inn.
Before long, I heard the sound of Hōzenbō catching up, but I remained indifferent to it.
I had been devising the draft of a secret oath—one I had buried in the depths of Shugaku Zenrin’s pond during my studies—to retrieve upon departing for this campaign.
It was completed as follows.

This battle originates from Bai.

I am Bai.

I shall do nothing but tear the heinous and immoral Yamadako into eight pieces.

I stood at Kawanakajima and viewed the Imperial Headquarters.

Having secretly completed military preparations, I departed Kasugayama Castle on August 14th.

I led thirteen thousand soldiers and left twenty thousand garrison troops at Kasugayama to prepare for enemy surprise attacks.

In war, one must not rely on the size of military forces.
If each person strives to become Bai, that suffices.
A force that becomes pointlessly large loses its mobility.

However, my leaving twenty thousand garrison soldiers at Kasugayama was not merely for that reason alone. Rather, my primary objective was to apply silent restraint to Shingen’s strategy. For those like him who make stratagems their business are ones who suspect and fear the stratagems of others, and thus the movements of the twenty thousand garrison troops remaining at Kasugayama were certain to instill in him constant doubt and anxiety.

The battlefield I selected was Kawanakajima.
There stood the enemy's proud stronghold, Kaizu Castle.
Constructed by utilizing the surrounding mountains and rivers while incorporating the finest elements of fortresses from various provinces, it had been defended at the time by Kōsaka Danjō.

This fortress was small in scale and could accommodate at most fewer than two thousand troops; even if I were to assault it with thirteen thousand forces, it would remain a stronghold difficult to capture overnight.
Naturally, I was not considering such folly as expending many sacrifices to take this minor stronghold.
It was solely to feign an attack on this place and prompt Shingen's deployment.

I divided my force of thirteen thousand troops into two along the way—one entering Shinano via the Hokuriku Highway and the other through Tomikura Pass—and rested at Zenkōji. As it was now chestnut season, after eating chestnut yōkan, I left the large baggage train and five thousand troops at Zenkōji and led the small baggage train with eight thousand soldiers across Kawanakajima to establish my headquarters on Mount Saijō.

The mountain range extending from Matsushiro terminates at Mount Saijō, which thrusts into the central part of Kawanakajima. Though it is the lowest peak as the endpoint of the range, its intrusion into Kawanakajima allows the entire expanse of the plain to be discerned as if held in one’s hand. To the north, one could see as far as Zenkōji in the distance.

Moreover, Kaizu Castle lay three kilometers eastward within view below, and beyond it was Matsushiro.
The mountain range extending from Mount Saijō curved around Matsushiro’s rear, where at the base of these peaks could be seen several entrances to the underground complexes of the Matsushiro Imperial Headquarters—construction begun by the Japanese military during the Pacific War but left incomplete with its conclusion.
The entrance to what would have been the Emperor’s quarters had been built within a mountain ravine, rendering it invisible from this vantage.
Hōzenbō, accompanying me, appeared far more intrigued by the Matsushiro Headquarters’ layout than by Kaizu Castle’s military activities; I myself felt some measure of this inclination.

“It seems we can see what looks like an entrance piled with large stone ramparts behind and to the left of Kaizu Castle.”
“On the other side of that entrance appears to lie the main entrance of the Imperial Headquarters.”
“Ah! Look there!”
“The mountains on the right—so many small entrances!”
“They dug like madmen!”
“Most holes were left half-finished when the war ended—now collapsed and useless.”
“Nothing dumber than digging holes just to watch ’em crumble!”
“We dig holes because being holes is our very nature!”
“Nobody digs hoping they’ll collapse!”
“Why not keep digging till they’re proper?”
“What a waste!”
“If even these tunnels rot away, the Pacific War’s got no redeeming bits!”
“Finish ’em! Charge admission! Recoup costs in three thousand years!”
“That war had no people in it anyway.”

They say that when a country perishes, its mountains and rivers remain.
I too, thinking that one day—whether tomorrow or today—my body would die and lie among the grasses, returning to the mountains and rivers, gazed upon the distant ruins of the Imperial Headquarters and was overcome with ineffable emotion.

I marveled at the strange coincidence that both the bygone Pacific War and I today had established our final headquarters facing Kawanakajima.
Strategically, there was not a single commonality between that era and today.
The weapons and tactics differed as well.
I could only think of everything as coincidence; yet for one who had resolved to die, even coincidence was accompanied by strange emotions.

I thought that just as the bygone Pacific War had been a tragic symbol of Japan, I hoped my campaign today would not prove to be another such symbol.

To that end, I had no choice but to achieve victory over the enemy. There remained only to rip apart that heinous and immoral Yamadako into eight pieces. The western flank of Mount Saijō faced mountains stretching toward Zenkōji across the Hokuriku Highway. At precisely that strategic point stood Chausuyama.

I had anticipated Shingen would appear either at Matsushiro after crossing Jizō Pass or at Kawanakajima along the Hokuriku Highway. That is to say, Shingen’s advance route would naturally approach my rear. For my rear lay entirely within Shingen’s sphere of influence. Fully aware of the impending surprise attack from behind, I deliberately arranged my forces in an unstable formation.

Yet Shingen did not come from the rear. Leading twenty thousand troops, he suddenly appeared at Chausuyama and established his headquarters there. It was August 24th.

In bitter frustration, I failed to cut down Yamadako.

Due to Shingen’s appearance at Chausuyama and establishment of his headquarters there, a strange cruciform configuration took shape.
That is to say, to the north and south stood my headquarters’ eight thousand men at Mount Saijō facing Zenkōji’s five thousand, while east and west saw Kōshū forces confronting Kaizu Castle and Chausuyama respectively.
The plain between them became desolate Kawanakajima.
Both armies now found their communications obstructed with enemies flanking left and right.

In particular, since my forces had left the large baggage train at Zenkōji, our provisions would last just over ten more days.
Because of this, unrest broke out among my headquarters' troops.

“If our allies at Zenkōji are annihilated and we lose the large baggage train, we will be left without provisions and isolated.”
“Should we not swiftly request reinforcements from the twenty thousand garrison soldiers at Kasugayama?”

Usami thus advised me.
I responded to this,

“The reason Shingen appeared at Chausuyama without seizing my rear was because he feared I had a secret strategy.”
“Therefore, it is mistaken to view his appearance at Chausuyama as having taken us by surprise.”
“It is Shingen who harbors the greater fear in his heart.”
“If there were no sign of unrest in my headquarters, that octopus would not even muster the courage to attack the large baggage train at Zenkōji.”
“Because he cannot fathom my strategy.”
“Do not entertain thoughts of relying on rescue forces.”
“Leave all matters to Kenshin’s judgment and prepare solely for the final battle.”

I thus instructed the troops and, day and night atop Mount Saijō, beat the small drum and immersed myself in Noh chants.

Indeed, it seems Shingen was unable to fathom my strategy.
Five days later—withdrawing their camp; passing through Kawanakajima; entering Kaizu Castle—thus did all of Takeda’s military strength unite as one.
Our forces remained divided.
Moreover, since I remained immersed in music and dance, some among my officers and men once again began harboring uneasy thoughts.
I admonished them,

“Consider the intentions of Shingen—who possesses twice our strength—in abandoning his headquarters at Chausuyama to attempt unification of forces at Kaizu Castle.”
“Because he cannot fathom our strategy and is driven by fear, despite possessing twice our military strength, he hastens to unify his forces.”
“Now that they have unified their forces, they will surely attempt some maneuver this time—but their attack, born of fearful hearts, will either be rushed or excessively cautious; either way, it shall lack decisive force.”
“To further provoke the enemy’s unease, our forces should remain divided indefinitely and calmly await their maneuver.”
“The more unreasonable our preparations are, the deeper the enemy’s fear will grow.”
Thus, I was able to prevent the unrest among my officers and men.

Ten more days had passed.
Finally, movement to mobilize arose in Shingen’s camp.
At sunset, I observed numerous columns of cooking smoke rising.
When Shingen had abandoned Chausuyama and attempted to unify his forces at Kaizu Castle, it should be said that he had already been defeated by my stratagems.
For the movements of Kaizu Castle, the surrounding mountains, and even Kawanakajima were all visible at a glance from my headquarters.
They could not move during the day.
Their mobility was limited to nighttime alone.
Their tactics had already lost all force.

On the evening of September 9th, no sooner had I detected anomalous movements in the enemy camp than I summoned my staff officers and,

“At sunset, deploy troops in ambush across all directions. Any who approach our camp—be they peasants, women, or children—kill them all without letting a single soul return.”
“Do not call out under any circumstances.”
“Cut them down in silence and slaughter them all.”
“Deem all who depart or approach to be enemy spies and slaughter them.”
“Let not a single one escape slaughter!”
“Therefore, our army must not dispatch spies.”
“There is no longer any need for our army to dispatch spies.”
“The enemy’s tactical options can only be either striking my rear through the mountains or deploying troops to the front.”
“Our forces will deploy our entire strength into the very heart of Kawanakajima before the enemy does.”
“If we do not cut down all enemy spies and let none return, our certain victory is assured.”

Upon my command, with sunset, my army sprang into action.

I did not contact the five thousand troops at Zenkōji.
It was evident that the enemy had spies lying in ambush along the way.
It was possible that enemy spies had already thoroughly sealed off the Zenkōji vicinity.
If our forces at Zenkōji were to move, the enemy would detect our strategy.
By abandoning the five thousand reinforcements, our eight thousand could feign a throat strike at the enemy.

Some may call my formation of that night a chariot formation, but it did not require such a specific designation.

My troops needed to deploy in an almost circular formation around my headquarters.
For it was unclear where the enemy would establish their positions.
To prepare against enemy positions whose locations were unknown and await dawn, all that was required was a circular formation with my headquarters as its central pivot.

My troops succeeded in establishing our formation at Kawanakajima before the enemy. Even if the enemy’s formation had advanced five ken ahead, we should have maintained an air of ignorance, silenced all noise, and waited for dawn. Shingen established his position four or five chō away from ours.

Shingen had apparently devised a strategy where he attached twelve thousand troops to Kōsaka Danjō to strike down upon my rear through the mountains. Shingen himself, leading eight thousand troops, had taken position at Kawanakajima and apparently intended to carry out a pincer attack at dawn.

Not a single one of the spies Shingen dispatched apparently managed to return and deliver their reports.

Therefore, the only thing Shingen had been able to ascertain was that no movement whatsoever had occurred among our forces at Zenkōji.
Thus constrained, Shingen could not act boldly.
He had established his position more conservatively than I had anticipated.
When dawn broke and I observed there remained four or five chō between our positions, I laughed at his cowardice even as profound disappointment took hold.

Because the enemy had not anticipated our army’s sortie, they discovered us belatedly. However, we could not execute a full surprise attack due to needing to close the four or five *chō* distance.

Our army’s arquebus unit opened fire. Next, the archer unit followed suit, and then the long-spear unit charged in. Our forces, arrayed in a circular formation, sent wave after wave of fresh troops storming into the enemy camp. In moments, Shingen’s battle formations crumbled into utter disarray. Of their twelve units, only three remained intact. Shingen’s younger brother Tenkyū Nobushige fell in battle at the very onset of fighting.

At Kawanakajima, the forces of both sides confronting each other numbered eight thousand each; however, Shingen knew that twelve thousand troops making a detour through the mountains behind Mt. Saijosan would soon arrive to reinforce him.
In contrast, our five thousand troops at Zenkōji remained unaware of this strategy, so we could not await their assistance.
Shingen, having foreseen that twelve thousand reinforcements were imminent, skillfully rallied his troops despite their total collapse in defeat and devoted himself entirely to defense while awaiting reinforcements.

The crumbling enemy soldiers had none who fled; they barely managed to keep their footing and each time they crumbled, they reestablished their defensive stance—but eventually Shingen’s headquarters were gradually pushed forward to the front lines, resulting in the defeated troops taking up defensive positions at the rear.

Taking advantage of that opening, I suddenly charged forth alone on horseback. Because I had spotted Shingen’s figure. He had exposed himself almost at the very front. If I missed that moment, it would be an instant when Shingen would be shielded by his subordinates once more. I, too, was in a rush. Desperately urging my horse forward, then reining it to a halt, I raised high the Junkei Nagamitsu blade,

“Shingen, prepare yourself!”
I swung down with all my strength.

“Out of my way, knave!”

Shingen raised his military baton and blocked my blade.
I saw his deranged eyes.
There was a flaw in my sword’s trajectory, and I felt profoundly dissatisfied, but there was nothing to be done.
Second strike.
Third strike.
I felt the satisfying impact of having struck deeply into Shingen’s shoulder, yet his form had yet to collapse.
As I raised my blade for what would be the fourth strike, my horse suddenly reared and bolted.
My horse had been struck in the hindquarters by an enemy soldier’s spear.
My horse charged through the very heart of the enemy formation, and Shingen’s figure grew distant.

Twelve thousand reinforcements rushed to the enemy’s side.
From then on, the disadvantage was ours.
In the evening, I gathered the remaining troops and withdrew to assemble at Zenkōji.
The enemy too gathered their forces and entered Kaizu Castle.
The battle had begun at five in the morning and ended at five in the evening.
Our army: three thousand seven hundred dead.
Six thousand wounded.
Enemy forces: four thousand six hundred dead; thirteen thousand wounded.

Missed Yamadako.

How tragic!