Pathway to Japanese Literature

1

The early summer night quietly gave way to dawn.

At the residence of Sakai's wealthy merchant Uoya Riemon, the apprentice was the first to wake.
While reluctantly rubbing his sleepy eyes, he went to the shop and opened the gate door.
The morning mist hung thick and blue, leaving the outside dimly lit, but there stood a single crucifixion pillar before the gate, forming an eerie cross shape.

Letting out a startled “Ah!”, the apprentice Hirakichi shuddered and shrank back, but soon came stampeding back,

“It’s a crucifixion pillar!
It’s a crucifixion pillar!” he shouted at the top of his lungs.

Startled by this, all the household members rushed outside, but when each of them saw the eerie crucifixion pillar, their faces instantly turned pale.

Upon hearing the report, Master Riemon slowly rose from his bedroom, but when he cast a glance at the crucifixion pillar, a bitter smile surfaced on his cheeks.

“So it seems they’ve finally come around to my place. By the way—how much does it say?”

“It says fifty thousand ryō.”

Manager Kanjirō timidly said.

“Hmm, fifty thousand ryō? That’s a bargain.”
“It’s wiser to adroitly pay fifty thousand ryō than have one’s entire household slaughtered.”

Having said this, Riemon promptly returned to his bedroom—his gall tempered through overseas trade showing not the slightest tremor at such affairs—as he drew the bedding over himself and shut his eyes.
The snoring that soon resounded proved he had fallen asleep.

The crucifixion pillar bearing a large white paper marked “Fifty Thousand Ryō” at chest height was swiftly cleared from the gateway by apprentices and clerks, yet the dread lingered unshaken until dusk.

That evening, an alluring eighteen- or nineteen-year-old maiden, dressed in exquisitely refined attire, came calling at Uoya's residence.

"I humbly request an audience with your master."

"And whom might I say is calling?"

"I have come to collect the fifty thousand ryō."

The apprentice clerk exclaimed “Gah!” and dashed toward the back, but at that very moment, emerging in passing was his master, Uoya Riemon.

“You’ve had a long journey.”

Riemon smiled faintly and

“Please, do come in.”

“No, as I’m somewhat pressed for time…”

The maiden gently declined.

“Fifty thousand ryō in gold is quite heavy—how do you intend to carry it?”

“Master Uoya, your house is an esteemed merchant family and you are a person of unwavering integrity. Thus we need not receive cash—if you would kindly acknowledge that you will provide the funds whenever required, that shall suffice.”

“That’s a simple matter indeed. I shall provide you with a promissory note.”

He wrote it down in a single fluid stroke and handed it to the maiden.

"Will this suffice?"

"That will be satisfactory indeed."
"Now I must take my leave."

“Are you already departing?”

“I will take my leave.”

The maiden gracefully bowed and quietly stepped out of the shop, then walked along the twilight thoroughfare toward the sea without haste or panic.

Not long after that, on a certain day.
Having been invited by Sen no Rikyū, Uoya Riemon attended a tea gathering.
As they had been close friends for some time, they engaged in casual conversation until nightfall after the guests had departed.

Suddenly recalling something, Uoya Riemon related the story of the theft.

“My, my,” said Sen no Rikyū, widening his eyes in astonishment—
“I had indeed heard before of the fearsome bandit who styles himself Gōsuke of the Crucifixion Pillar, but never could I have conceived he would dare assail even your household.”
“We cannot let this matter rest unattended.”
“I shall forthwith petition His Highness and set an investigation in motion.”

“No, no—let it lie. A god unprovoked brings no curse. Should you meddle needlessly and suffer injury for it, I would be most aggrieved.”

Then Rikyū erupted in a boisterous warrior’s laugh—

“A tea master I may be, but this Rikyū has not one chink in his armor. What cause have bandits to assail me?”

When he heard this, Uoya Riemon’s face stiffened uneasily, but—

“Now, you can’t say that for certain.
“Tennōjiya Sōkyū and Wataya Ikkan—have they not all been attacked?”
“There are even rumors that daimyō such as Lord Masuda Nagamori and Lord Ishida have been attacked. Particularly in the case of Takatsuya Kanzaburō—because he refused the bandits’ demands, his entire family met the tragic fate of massacre, and a great house of such stature was ruined. These are no ordinary bandits.”
“First, you should leave things undisturbed. Moreover, you have in your possession that famous utensil entrusted by His Highness—if such an item were to be demanded, would that not indeed spell catastrophe?”

Then Rikyū laughed even more,

“No, no—that may apply to others, but as for Rikyū in particular, there’s no need for concern about being attacked by such bandits.”
“Hahaha—there’s nothing to fear.”

—when suddenly, from the thicket in the inner garden,

“You can’t say that for certain!” shouted a hoarse voice.

Startled, the two looked in that direction to find—within the intricately designed garden, beside a dimly lit stone lantern—a single ominous crucifixion pillar standing erect. Affixed limply to its chest area was a large paper label reading “Wood-Concealed Tea Bowl.”

2

Sen no Rikyū was so overwhelmed that he turned completely pale. In his anxiety, without waiting for dawn, he proceeded to the palace that very night, insisted on an audience with Hideyoshi, and reported the entire affair.

When Chancellor Hideyoshi heard this, he remained silent in thought for a while.

“Rikyū, hand over the tea bowl.”

He eventually said with apparent resignation.

“Ah... You would have it surrendered?”

“Yeah—hand it over.”

“The Wood-Concealed is a famous utensil.”

“A child of fortune doesn’t die by thieves.”
“There’s such a proverb.”
“If you cling to one tea bowl and get me or yourself hurt—that’d make us the realm’s joke.”

“Yet might this not tarnish even Your Highness’s prestige?”

“Don’t spout nonsense,” Hideyoshi said.

“If your prestige could be damaged by something so trivial, then it wasn’t real prestige to begin with.”

“Are you truly going to have it sent?”

Rikyū still clung to reluctance.

“If the bandits demand the tea bowl and it becomes known I handed it over, I’ll be seen as magnanimous. …Truth be told, those bandits make even me feel a twinge of fear.”

“Your Highness fears bandits?”

Rikyū grew even more astonished.

“If you ask what’s truly fearsome in this world—there’s nothing more terrifying than a reckless fool.”

“Ah, I see—that is most reasonable.”

For the first time, it settled in Rikyū’s heart.

The night in Abeno, on the outskirts of Osaka, was gloomily desolate.
Then several pine torches passed from south to north.
Their numbers were fewer than a hundred.

It was late autumn midnight, and a cold storm howled and howled.

With axes shouldered, mallets carried, and spears and naginata in hand, their appearance was every bit that of a band of bandits.

Ahead of them, a girl of eighteen or nineteen—perhaps her chest had suddenly tightened—lay collapsed on the withered grass.
Even in the darkness, she was a beautiful maiden.

“Well now, what a pretty maiden!”

“This here’s one hell of a fine catch!”

“Someone carry her off!”

The bandits, in high spirits, tried to make the maiden their plaything.
There was a warrior in his forties with an imposing stature who appeared to be their leader, smirking as he watched.
The maiden let out a shrill scream and writhed to escape, but this was not a situation one could escape from.
She was finally captured and hoisted up.

“That’s enough now. Let’s get going.”

The leader said with a laugh.
At that moment, an old monk emerged from the thicket’s shadow nearby.

“Wait a moment!”
“What do you think you’re doing?!”

The monk called out.
He maintained a composed demeanor.
The bandits were momentarily startled and fell abruptly silent.

"What do you intend to do with my daughter?"

The monk called out again.
It was a mocking voice.

"Is this your daughter?"

The bandit leader laughed and,

“That was rather unfortunate of us. Men, return the girl.”

There, the girl was gently lowered from their shoulders and placed onto the withered grass.

The bandits tried to clamor past.

“Hey, wait a moment!”
“You ungrateful lot!”

The monk called out from behind.

"You defile another man's daughter and don't even apologize—what kind of behavior is this!"

“Indeed, that’s most reasonable.”

The bandit leader gave a wry smile,

“Monk, what would satisfy you?”

“How did your job go?”

Instead, the monk asked in return.

“What do you plan to do by asking that?”

“So how much did you scrape together with all that gold?”

“Nothing worth mentioning—just five thousand ryō.”

“With that many men, only five thousand ryō?”

“You’ve got a big mouth, monk.”

“Leave all of it behind.”

“What?!” For the first time, the bandit leader’s eyes glinted with murderous intent, but—

“Hah! This one’s a madman.”

“Leave every last ryō of the five thousand.”

The monk said nonchalantly.
His demeanor was brimming with confidence.
His voice held a mocking tone.

3

“This guy’s truly a lunatic.”
“Who do you think we are?!”

“I know not.”
“Nor is there any need to know.”

“Who the hell are you?”
“What stands before you is but a beggar monk.”

“That can’t be right.
There’s no way that’s true.”

The bandit leader seemed to take considerable interest in his counterpart’s demeanor,

“Declare your name.”
“Declare your status.”

“As for me,” the monk said listlessly,

“Whether to call it fortunate or unfortunate—I’ve come having forgotten something.”

“Did you forget something? What’s that?”

“Crucifixion pillars.”
“Crucifixion pillars, you know.”

The bandits suddenly stirred.
And then they fell eerily silent.

The bandit leader widened his eyes, but eventually clapped his hands sharply.

“Ah, so that’s it.”
“So that’s how it was.”
“Gōsuke Hōshi of the Crucifixion Pillars?”

“By the way—what might you be?”

“I am Goemon.”
“Ishikawa Goemon.”

Then, this time, it was the monk who clapped his hands sharply.

“Hmm, I see. So you’re Muttoku Dōjin.”

“Gōsuke Hōshi, what a coincidence.”

“Oh, what an absolute coincidence, I tell you.”

“I wanted to meet you.”

“I too had wanted to meet you, I tell you.”

“So—need five thousand ryō?”

“Knowing it’s Goemon, I wouldn’t dream of taking it.”

“Since you went to the trouble, I’ll hand over half the sum.”

“I’m short on funds.”

“How about coming to my place?”

“Where are you living now?”

“Sagano, outside the capital. A fine place, I tell you... By the way—where are you staying now?”

“I am a cloud-and-water monk. No fixed abode.”

“How about coming to my place?”

“Let’s drop it. Scared, you see.”

“What are you scared of?”
“What are you scared of?”

“What I’m scared of is Hideyoshi.”
“That monkey-faced upstart?”
“I received a tea bowl from that guy.”
“And what exactly is that supposed to mean?”

“That’s when I got scared, I tell you.”

“I don’t get what you’re talking about.”

“That monkey-faced upstart—he’s bound to become a lord.”
“He’s an unfathomably voracious schemer.”
“Therefore, I intend to withdraw.”
“That’s right—the Kinki region, you know.”

“What nonsense! For someone of Gōsuke’s standing to fear that guy—how shameful!”

“In all this, you must have some inkling yourself.”

“I intend to take down that monkey-faced upstart.”

“I won’t say it’s wrong—but stop that.”

“I’ve been asked by a certain party.”

“Hmm, who could it be? Ieyasu, perhaps?”

“No—that’s not it. It’s not the old tanuki.”

“I’ve got it figured out—it’s Hidetsugu, right?”

“It doesn’t matter who.”
“I can’t speak of it.”

“You should stop.”
“You’ll fail, I tell you.”
“That monkey-faced upstart is cautious, I tell you.”

Goemon glanced briefly at the girl but—

“What a fine girl. A real beauty. Could she be Lady Tsukihime’s surviving child?”

“Un,” said Gōsuke Hōshi, and for the first time he made a sorrowful face.

“This girl is truly pitiful.”

“So you’re really planning to withdraw, then?”

“Yeah, I’ll definitely withdraw.”

“What about your travel expenses? Let me provide you with some.”

“I have a debt of fifty thousand ryō.”

“What? Fifty thousand ryō? To whom did you lend it?”

“To Uoya Riemon of Sakai.”

“So, is this where we part ways?”

“Drifting clouds and flowing water… Where shall I wander?”

And so, the two men parted ways.

What manner of great bandit was this Gōsuke Hōshi, who made even Kampaku Hideyoshi tremble with fear and compelled Ishikawa Goemon—the foremost bandit of his era—to revere him as an elder brother?

Concerning this mysterious great bandit who appears neither in history nor legend, if one were to speak of written records, there exists only a single volume: "Ryokurin Kokubaku."

Thus relying on that text, the author will now outline below the origins of this great bandit.

4

“I have neither siblings nor parents.”
…I’m truly an orphan.

Whenever Oka Gōsuke thought this way, his heart would always grow lonely.

“War yesterday, war today, and war again tomorrow… Ever since the Ashikaga’s martial authority declined, the world has become what they call the Sengoku period, and humanity and morality have crumbled into dust.”
“Parents kill their children, and children harm their parents.”
“What’s truly terrifying is the state of the world.”
“……Perhaps it’s easier not to have parents at all.”

There were times when he thought like this.

"But that would be lonely."
After all，it’s better to have parents.
"Oh，how I long to meet my parents."

The longing for parents was something he could not cast aside, no matter how he tried.

"But even so—why did my parents abandon me and disappear?"
"I don't even know my parents' faces."

Whenever he thought of this, his heart grew even lonelier.

“I hear that bastard Mokusho Jibu has rebelled.”
“I hear he’s colluded with Mōri Motonari and turned his spearhead against me.”

Ukita Naoie, lord of Yazu Castle in Bizen Province, said this as the veins of rage bulged on his forehead.

“This is most improper indeed.”

Oka Gōsuke, his favorite attendant, also nodded in apparent frustration, but—

“Leaving others aside, is not Lord Jibu your own kinsman?”

“That makes it all the more regrettable.”

“This cannot be permitted.”

“I will not allow it!
“I will not allow it! I will not allow it!”

Naoie’s voice was frenzied.

“What might be the cause of the rebellion?”

Gōsuke fixed his eyes intently.

“Ah, the cause?”
“The cause is a woman!”

“Ah, so it was a woman?”

“She’s my daughter—Tsukihime!”

“Lady Tsukihime?” he parroted, though Gōsuke’s voice trembled.

“This is utterly preposterous.”
“...Lord Jibu is fifty years old, and Lady Tsukihime eighteen—what could he possibly intend?”

“Lord Jibu lost his wife last year.”

“Ah—so he seeks a new concubine then?”

“Hmm.” Naoie ground his molars.
“He came demanding that I—his rightful liege—surrender the princess.”

“Did you refuse him outright?”

“Then he immediately launched this rebellion.”

“What a detestable man indeed.”

The two fell silent for a moment.

A spring night storm raged.
The winds appeared to strike the garden's flowering trees - a rustling, rustling that bore the force of fallen petals sweeping across the ground.

“Gōsuke,” Naoie said pointedly,
“You’re twenty-two this year—the perfect match for the princess in age.”
“My lord, what do you mean?”
Gōsuke’s eyelids flushed crimson.
“With Jibu gone, I might consider wedding Tsukihime to you.”
“I am merely your retainer.”
“You’re my cherished retainer.”
“This isn’t some casual whim.”
“You honor me deeply.”

“Jibu must not be allowed to live.”

“Lord,” Gōsuke said as he shuffled closer on his knees.

“I will cut down that Jibu.”
“Tsukihime belongs to you.”
“I am deeply honored.”

The spring midday sun was warmly shining on the two-storied gate of Kōzen-ji.

An elderly beggar—likely in his late sixties or early seventies—with dignified features was dozing serenely before the two-storied gate.

At that moment, Oka Gōsuke, who happened to be passing by, approached briskly for some reason,

“Father!” he called out.
And then he knelt down on the ground.

The one who was surprised was the beggar.

“I am but a beggar. To call me your father is preposterous. You must be mistaken.”

“No, no—you are Father. I received a divine revelation in a dream... It happened last night—a divine old man appeared and graciously imparted unto me: ‘Thou shalt go to Kōzen-ji tomorrow. There thou wilt find an elderly beggar—he shall be thy true birth father whom thou hast long sought.’ No matter what you say, you are my father. I must welcome you to my residence and fulfill my filial duties.”

When Gōsuke said this, he earnestly took the beggar’s hand.

“This is truly strange. It makes no sense.”

The beggar laughed bitterly, but

“By the way, may I ask your honorable name?”

“My name is Oka Gōsuke.”

“What?” The beggar’s face abruptly paled upon hearing this.

“Oka Gōsuke?”
“Exactly as such?”

“Why would I tell lies?”

“Ah… You can no longer escape this fate.”
“Now, lead me wherever you will…”

The elderly beggar rose unsteadily from the mat he had been lying on, but there was something peculiar in both his expression and demeanor.
A terror of utter desperation was vividly apparent, as if he had suddenly collided with a ghost he had long dreaded and a misfortune he had desperately avoided.

5

At that time—namely, during the Eiroku era—Bizen Province was divided among three daimyō who occupied separate regions, each vying for dominance.
Yatsu Castle had Ukita Naoie, Tatsunokuchi Castle had Mokusho Jibu, and Funayama Castle had Susuki Buzen.—And thus their forces were evenly matched.

To Mokusho Jibu’s Tatsunokuchi Castle, one day, a young samurai, bringing an old man he claimed was his father, came rushing in a great flurry.

He was bleeding from his limbs.

“I am Oka Gōsuke, a retainer of Ukita—who, having suffered false accusations, endured such chastisement from my lord. To deem this unjust and inhumane would scarcely suffice, for there existed no ancestral bond between lord and vassal to justify it. Resolving that now was the time to sever ties, I fled Yatsu Castle with my father and have humbly come before you.”

“Having heard that Lord Mokusho is renowned for cherishing his retainers, I wish to serve at your side and devote myself utterly to your cause. For this purpose have I presented myself—what might your esteemed will decree?”

This was the young samurai’s address.

“Since he is a retainer of Ukita, we shall opportunely employ him and hear of the enemy’s situation from his mouth.”

Mokusho Jibu said this.
And so, from that moment on, Gōsuke became a retainer of the Mokusho family.

With his brilliant versatility, Gōsuke soon became Jibu’s favored vassal. His martial arts were exquisite, his speech refreshingly eloquent, and he knew the Ukita clan’s inner workings to their deepest secrets. Whenever Jibu inquired, Gōsuke would readily recount everything—the castle’s defenses, armaments and provisions, troop strengths, the merits of strategists—leaving nothing untouched. Thus, Jibu abandoned all pretense of maintaining equilibrium and doted on Gōsuke without reservation.

Thus, before one knew it, spring had passed, and soon a sweltering summer arrived—but that summer too passed, giving way to autumn. Six months had passed since Gōsuke began serving Jibu. One day, Mokusho Jibu led his retainers and conducted horsemanship training at the riding ground.

Mokusho Jibu called out, “Gōsuke.”

“Have you trained in horsemanship?”

“Yes, I have some training.”

Oka Gōsuke smiled and spoke.

“Then mount up and show me.”

“Yes,” he said, though without enthusiasm,
“Would there happen to be a suitable exceptional steed?”

“A horse? If it’s horses, there’s no shortage.”
“I prefer wild horses.”

“You prefer wild horses?”
“That’s intriguing.”
“Then try riding Gassan.”

“With all due respect, through these eyes of mine, Gassan amounts to nothing but a timid, sickly horse.”

“Well now. Is that so?”
“What of Genkai?”

“It too remains overly timid.”

“You may choose as you like,” said Mokusho Jibu.

“I humbly wish to borrow your beloved steed, Masakado Kurige,” replied Gōsuke.

“What? Masakado?” Jibu exclaimed. “Hmm... Masakado?”

Mokusho Jibu furrowed his brow. Masakado Kurige was a prized steed second only to life itself for him—one he had never lent to anyone before. Yet having told him to choose freely, he couldn’t refuse now.

“Very well, take Masakado.”

Thereupon, Masakado was led out—a steed tall and stout, with wild mane and long tail, so majestic it might rival Ikutsuki, Surusumi, or even the fabled Red Hare of Han itself. Yet Oka Gōsuke showed no astonishment; he nimbly mounted it in one fluid motion and circled the riding ground with a rhythmic *clip-clop-clip-clop*.

“Magnificent! Truly magnificent!” Mokusho Jibu exclaimed in involuntary admiration—but no sooner had he spoken than Gōsuke cracked his whip and sent the horse vaulting over the riding ground’s wooden fence.

“Bwahahaha!” A roar of laughter erupted from Gōsuke’s mouth, but—

“Lord Mokusho! Lord Jibu! Mokusho Jibu, you fool! You great dolt of a lord—you thick-skulled oaf! Gōsuke takes his leave here! Masakado Kurige I’ll claim as my trophy—I’ll be keeping this steed as it stands. Don’t expect gratitude—if it galls you, come take it back! To lay all bare—every word I spoke about the Ukita clan’s affairs was pure fabrication. Now I’ll quit this place, present myself at Funayama Castle, and enter Lord Susuki Bungo’s service. Got complaints? Send them straight to Funayama Castle. Cower here forever if you dare—yes, farewell!”

With those final words, he swiftly turned the horse’s head southeast and galloped away in a rush.
Both man and horse vanished from sight after a moment, hidden within the shadow of the trees.

The warlords of the Sengoku period would take in any samurai who excelled in a single art without regard for good or evil.
Thus Gōsuke was taken into service by Lord Susuki Bungo without difficulty—but Mokusho Jibu flew into a rage over this and immediately dispatched a messenger to reclaim Oka Gōsuke.
Yet the Susuki clan paid no heed.

“There is absolutely no samurai who goes by the name Oka Gōsuke within this castle.”

This was the Susuki clan’s response.

As Jibu, he could not help but grow increasingly angry.

“Take Gōsuke’s father, Gōsakuemon, to Funayama Castle’s main gate and nail him to the crucifixion pillar!”

Leaping up again and again, Mokusho Jibu howled like a madman.

6

Since Gōsuke had driven out the Mokusho family, his father Gōsakuemon resigned himself and waited for death to approach.

When the day finally arrived, he handed a sealed document to his servant named Mokusuke. Then he whispered something. Then he purified himself through ritual abstinence and bathing and awaited the arrival of the execution squad. The commander of the execution squad was a samurai named Shiina Kinnosuke—a man devoid of compassion—but he bound Gōsakuemon, who offered no resistance, hand and foot before securing him to the crucifixion pillar.

The crucifixion pillar was loaded onto a cart and dragged by many hands to Funayama Castle’s main gate.

“To those within Funayama Castle!”
“Return Oka Gōsuke and all will be well! But if you persist in feigning ignorance until the end, we shall pierce Gōsakuemon - this man’s father - with spears right here!”

Shiina Kinnosuke loudly made this demand to those inside the castle, but the response from within remained unchanged from before.

“There is absolutely no one by the name of Oka Gōsuke within this castle.”

This was the Susuki clan’s response.

“It cannot be helped.
“We proceed no further.”

Kinnosuke gave a signal.

Instantly, spears thrust out from both sides pierced Gōsakuemon’s ribs, and his head drooped heavily.

On that day, Gōsuke was intently watching the scene from the watchtower window, but inwardly he sneered.

"To think they’d mistake some beggar of unknown origin for my real father and go through with a crucifixion—utterly absurd! Thanks to that, my scheme hit its mark, and I’ve only grown more trusted by Susuki Bungo."
"Now for the second stratagem—targeting that very opening!"
“Brilliant! Simply brilliant!” Hokusō laughed.

Ever since these events occurred, the Mokusho and Susuki families became estranged. Seizing upon this opening, Oka Gōsuke feigned anger as his real father’s enemy, enumerated Mokusho Jibu’s misdeeds, and incited Susuki Bungo. Finally, hostilities commenced. Though it had been a mere six months, Oka Gōsuke had served the Mokusho family and thoroughly investigated everything from the castle’s defensive layout and the troops’ capabilities to the quality of weapons and the quantity of provisions—thus he devised one brilliant stratagem after another. Susuki Bungo employed them. And so, the Susuki side won every battle they fought, and after over half a year of clashes, Mokusho Jibu perished in combat, and Ryūguchi Castle fell.

Susuki Bungo rejoiced greatly; upon returning in triumph, he held a grand feast to comfort his officers and soldiers, but the one recorded as foremost in merit was none other than Gōsuke.

Amidst the jubilation, that day came to an end; night soon fell, and that night too gave way to dawn.
Suddenly, a major incident arose.
To their shock, the castle’s commander-in-chief, Susuki Bungo, lay murdered in his bedchamber.
And thus, Gōsuke was nowhere to be seen.

Several days later, one night, in a deep chamber of Yazu Castle, Ukita Naoie and Gōsuke were talking pleasantly.

“Gōsuke，you are a terrifying man.”
“With nothing but your silver tongue，you’ve utterly destroyed two great daimyō houses—Mokusho and Susuki.”
“I didn’t harm a single soldier yet seized both Ryūguchi and Funayama Castles whole.”
“Even Zhang Liang’s stratagems would pale before this.”

“Lord，” Gōsuke said with a laugh。

“That too stems from love。”

“Ah, indeed—exactly so.”
“Tsukihime belongs to you now.”

“I am deeply honored.”

“Today brings me joy.
“True joy!”

“Yes, my lord—it does bring joy.”
“Yet... there remains one matter.”

“Is there something weighing on your mind?”

“I cannot feel at ease about having made an innocent old beggar a victim of spear thrusts.”

“That’s the way of the Sengoku period. Who cares?”

“That is indeed so,”
“However... lately I cannot help but feel that old man pierced by spears might have been my true father.”

“Ahahahaha! What foolishness you spout.”
“That’s naught but your mind’s delusion.”

“...I was told I was an abandoned child, is that correct?”

“Yeah, that’s right. When you were an infant, you were abandoned at the gates of Kōzenji Temple.”

Eventually, Gōsuke withdrew from the lord’s presence and returned to his own residence.

And then, there was an unexpected visitor.

“Oh! You’re Mokusuke, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” said Mokusuke, producing a document from his robe.

“To me, he was my master—to you, your honored father—who quietly entrusted this vital letter to me before being bound to the crucifixion pillar.”
“He strictly ordered it be delivered to you without fail, my lord.”

“Let’s see,” said Gōsuke as he took the document, unfolded it, and began reading.
As his eyes moved down the page, the blood gradually drained from his face.
When he finished, he shut his eyes.
Then he murmured under his breath.

“Just as I’d feared… I’m a parent-killer… What a terrible fate.”
“……I’ll become a monk……”

7

However, the samurai named Gōsukezaemon, whom Gōsuke had believed to be his real father, was in fact not his biological father but his adoptive one.
And thus, who exactly Gōsuke’s biological father was remained ultimately unknown.

Gōsuke’s adoptive father was a renowned senior retainer of the Ryūzōji clan in Kyushu, but when he took in Gōsuke as his adopted son, a famous physiognomist declared that the boy bore the marks of a parent-killer.
Fearing this prophecy, Gōsuke’s adoptive father journeyed all the way to Bizen and abandoned him at Kōzenji Temple.

A heartless parent who abandons their child cannot possibly achieve success and rise in the world.
First, he was bereaved of his wife, then became a masterless samurai.
No matter where he went, he could not achieve his ambitions and was reduced even to beggary—yet haunted by thoughts of the abandoned child, when he journeyed all the way to Kōzenji Temple, he met this fate.

When Ukita Naoie heard of Gōsuke’s ordination, he smirked.

“Clever bastard.”
“A fate-favored bastard, that one. …That bastard’s wit is too sharp—if I let my guard down, even his master—me—might find my throat slit in my sleep this time.”
“Having had Tsukihime married off, he must’ve been plotting to catch me off guard and snap my neck—yet he already saw through it. …Clever bastard.”
“A fate-favored bastard.”

However, Naoie’s plan was betrayed before a month had passed.
His beloved daughter Tsukihime went missing.
The thief was Gōsuke.
In this tragic and brutal Sengoku era—where parents abandon children, children kill adoptive fathers, retainers slay lords, lords scheme against retainers, and yesterday’s allies become today’s enemies—he reoriented his resolve, deciding it was wiser to become a bandit than to half-heartedly take monastic vows. As his first act, he stole the woman he loved from Ukita’s inner palace.
From then on, he made his way through the world alongside Tsukihime as an infamous bandit. After Tsukihime met her demise, he continued his banditry, using their daughter Teruhime—conceived between them—as a decoy.

And so he always used crucifixion pillars as tools of intimidation, but though one might say it stemmed from a mistake—the fact that he had killed his adoptive father by affixing him to a crucifixion pillar through an enemy’s hands—no—rather through his own hands—tormented his conscience; one could say he perpetually bore a cross out of self-condemnation.