Pathway to Japanese Literature

Author: Ito Sachio

I Within the enclosure, the sandy mulberry fields had their furrows filled with fallen leaves still yellow with moisture from their recent descent. The suddenly intensified chill of early winter’s air drew the eyes of contemplative souls all the more. The hedge wound from south to east using the “Kane” technique formed a distinctive nandina hedge. Clusters of red berries—ten or even twenty of them—all hung down uniformly. The vivid hues, newly enhanced since the frost’s arrival, absorbed the waning sunlight until their crimson grew even deeper.

It couldn’t truly be called a gate. On either side of the gate entrance stood nothing more than an old hazel tree each, arranged like gate pillars. On the long-bare hazel branches, shell-like soot-colored nuts clung here and there to their withered twigs. Decayed ceremonial ropes—nothing more than that—were stretched between the two opposing hazel trees. In any case, this served as the gate structure of the house. Abruptly, the wind calmed, and in the clear blue sky, not a rustle stirred. The family of chickens, now preparing to enter their roost, drew near to the thatched eaves. It seemed the family had not yet returned from the fields; the small house, composed of three structures—the rice storehouse, main house, and outhouse—was especially desolate and quiet.

The front door stood open, and half the courtyard still lay spread with unhulled rice to dry. Just as one might wonder if no one remained to mind the house, a youthful maiden appeared at the dirt-floored entrance—her snow-white arms bared, a turmeric-dyed work sash tossed over her shoulder. Clad in a linen-lined garment with a blue collar—utterly plain—with her loosely gathered hair tied at the nape, standing with her skirt hitched short and bare feet planted firm, this country girl revealed no adornment except the faintest hint of color in her sash and work cords. Yet she seemed to require neither ornament nor artifice, her beauty surpassing nearly all women of her station.

Tekona’s figure—from her chest to her cheeks, every aspect of her countenance—could only be described as radiant; there were no words sufficient to capture it. The rich, vivid hues of her skin, an ineffable noble aura about her eyes and lips—Tekona’s beauty was no shallow loveliness lacking depth or significance. In truth, there existed no fitting expression save “noble beauty.” To liken her to spring blossoms smiling in bloom or rubies’ vermilion glow would prove far too commonplace for singing Tekona’s praises.

The setting sun filtered through Seto Mountain's treetops, sending a thick beam of light racing across part of the garden, thereby making the surroundings grow even brighter. Tekona was busy managing the unhulled rice, her beautiful figure moving gracefully as if animated by the wind. Combining the tasks of managing the unhulled rice and house-minding duties, Tekona had likely remained alone at home today. Now, as the sun continued its descent, she descended and set about managing the unhulled rice. The desolate loneliness of early winter enveloped everything; no human voices could be heard around, and even the chickens gathered in their roost moved quietly. Under this natural provocation from her surroundings, Tekona found herself unable to prevent those recently awakened thoughts from resurfacing within her placid girlish heart. Even as I tried to dismiss such matters—both their substance and my own musings—I remained powerless to stop new reflections from welling up unbidden afterward.

Of course she herself—and neither her parents nor siblings, not a single one of them—had noticed, but ever since Tekona had begun to ponder things, her beauty only intensified. Women can either blossom or fade as they mature. As Tekona matured, her radiance only grew more pronounced.

II

From late summer onward, there had been a young lord who rode his horse around Mama every few days without apparent purpose—even through rainstorms—displaying his splendid bearing. Particularly at the hazel-wood gate and beyond the nandina hedge, hoofprints lingered with such frequency they scarce had time to fade. Thus rumors sprouted unbidden from no single voice. Among marriageable men in the village, many harbored resentment toward this noble's constant visits. Some even raged that measures must be taken against him. There were those who whispered curses from shadowed places. Whether from this cause or another, after a month's absence of prints beyond the nandina hedge, at dusk this day a familiar dappled steed suddenly reappeared outside the fence.

Almost as soon as the rider circled his horse once and brought it back around, he dismounted without hesitation. Young Lord Shinobu, with keen perception, seemed to recognize that Tekona’s house currently held no one besides Tekona herself; he promptly led his horse into the estate. After gauging the shade of the grove, he tethered his horse to a citrus tree there. Tekona noticed this figure and was truly startled into fluster. Her limbs ceased all movement due to the violent pounding in her chest. Still clutching a mat's worth of unhulled rice, she hurriedly rushed into the dirt-floored area.

Young Lord Shinobu followed Tekona into the house with deliberate composure. Tekona too now had no choice but to properly compose herself in response to his character. Young Lord Shinobu spoke in the most heartfelt and most courteous tone of address,

he entreated, "Allow me a brief rest and serve me a bowl of water." When Tekona realized that the man who had appeared countless times before her house—who had shown her such persistent attention—was Komuro Shibeshiro, the county magistrate of the neighboring province, she found her heart already stirred beyond restraint. From then on, whenever word came of his presence, she could not resist stealing furtive glances his way. With his silver-forged longsword fastened by a purple cord sash, riding his dappled horse whose coat gleamed in perfect alignment—whether viewed from front or back, the magistrate's figure indeed carried both noble dignity and rugged valor. Even Tekona could not help finding this warrior's bearing not unappealing. The stark divide in their stations—that which threatened to taint the purity of their feelings—yet taking secret joy in his sincere affections, Tekona found herself lost in endless contemplation, her sleepless nights accumulating far beyond mere one or two.

Thus, today’s meeting appeared quite sudden—though in truth it was not sudden at all—yet in reality, it proved to be something far more abrupt than mere suddenness.

Tekona put down what she held in her hands as if commanded. She removed her work sash, let her elbows hang, assumed a downcast posture as if gazing at her own toes, and stood before Komuro Shibeshiro. Her hands and feet were as if paralyzed; her tongue and heart seemed to solidify, leaving no words to utter. Komuro, with a deliberately softened expression, quietly lowered himself onto the edge of the hearth's raised frame. Though Komuro Shibeshiro stood filled with what he deemed heroic vigor—convinced he bore a keen mind that fell just short of encompassing heaven and earth—even his usual self-assured ambition held no power in this moment. When standing before love, there exists no function beyond the natural imperative to not oppose the lover’s heart. Thus, in the fleeting scene of their facing one another, there existed only this: within the stillness, the reverberations of their heartbeats—his as a man’s rhythm, hers as a woman’s—perceptible to each other. A living painting—yes, a living painting would be the most fitting term to describe this scene.

Komuro finally remembered he was meant to request water. Fortunately, the hot water had not cooled; Tekona drew some into a golden bowl and presented it to Komuro. Through these three acts—requesting water, drawing and offering it, drinking it—they managed to escape some of the awkwardness and begin a conversation. Komuro had thoroughly rehearsed how to voice feelings he'd nurtured for a thousand days when the chance arose—yet when finally facing her, the words he ought to speak now refused to order themselves. As a woman, Tekona could find no composure to consider anything.

Through Tekona’s act of drawing water and Komuro’s gesture of sipping from the bowl, they had barely managed to calm the turmoil in their chests—yet even so, as Komuro strained every fiber of his being to devise the words he ought to speak, the man found himself unable to conceal the flush rising to his face. “Though my wandering near you has drawn even the villagers’ notice—no doubt weighing on your heart—in my helpless yearning, I’ve cast aside a man’s dignity and acted discourteously. Yet all stems from this love for you alone. However unmannerly I’ve been, I beg you grant me forgiveness manifold.”

Though few in words, the sentiment behind them was imbued with immeasurable depth. What humble words these were from Lord Komuro—a man renowned for wisdom and valor, a county magistrate of such standing! There could be no more humble way of speaking than this. Was it that the deeper his feelings ran, the more he found himself compelled to humble himself? Tekona’s beauty verged on the divine, but a person remains ever human. A heart moved by true feelings rather surpassed those of ordinary people. The words Komuro spoke resounded with sincerity itself as his very voice. Black hair like seaweed swaying in a current against the wind—Tekona found herself involuntarily tearing up.

“Your words are far too gracious for one of my lowly station...” This greeting alone was all Tekona could muster. Komuro, after all, could not delve too deeply into their first meeting. Now beyond this, he expressed his hope that you would obtain your parents’ permission so he might visit again. And he introduced himself as Komuro Shibeshiro. Komuro Shibeshiro—a man known to all in these nearby villages—yet his act of formally announcing his name followed the custom of declaring one’s words to be true. Though coming from a man of status and dignity—one who spoke from a heart filled with affection—the renewed declaration of his name resounded in Tekona’s ears with a solemnity that felt as though hearing it for the first time. Tekona now felt not so much shame from emotion as a powerful sense of obligation-driven gratitude. At the same time, Tekona swiftly reflected and realized that her own unseemly actions would bring shame even upon those who cared for her. Tekona’s wise reflection in that moment rendered her countenance even more noble.

Tekona maintained an utterly submissive countenance as she acknowledged Komuro's kindness while preserving within her few words of greeting a solemn sacredness of womanhood. Komuro, having thoroughly discerned his beloved's innermost thoughts, felt profoundly satisfied. And since it seemed his own hopes too would largely prove attainable, his countenance visibly gained vitality. To recognize joyous light upon the future path of hopes staked with one's very life and stir fresh tumult in surging tides of blood—this was something anyone might recall experiencing at such times. It resembled glimpsing sunlight through thinning May rain clouds—a presentiment of clear skies soon to come. Thus did their exchange reach its brief conclusion. The fewer words spoken, the more boundless became the lingering resonance.

Komuro masked his tumultuous emotions through action, stood up, and took his leave.

“Take this gift from the day we met, and what I’ve carried day and night without fail—regard them both as mementos of today.” What had been swiftly placed by the hearth was an obi sash of rare brocade with intricate patterns—Tekona was flustered. Due to its overwhelming suddenness, she found herself unable to immediately grasp any proper judgment. If I accept this and let it end here, would it not amount to having already granted permission? She had intended to thoroughly discuss matters with her parents... Yet her confusion over what to do now came belatedly. By the time she noticed the sound of the sword’s pommel striking the ground, Komuro was already astride his galloping horse.

Two poems accompanied the obi. *Our meetings are but a jeweled thread of longing -* *Like Fuji's lofty peak where cascades sing.* *Were my love the tide at Mama Inlet in Katsushika* *That flows morning and night, I'd come surging to you.*

III

When Komuro had departed and the sound of hooves could no longer be heard, Tekona's house returned to its original silent stillness. Yet the agitation in Tekona's breast showed no signs of subsiding. Tekona felt as though all of heaven and earth lay utterly still while only her own breast remained in tumult.

Tekona, nearly like one who had lost consciousness, watched Komuro’s retreating figure and—bereft of any coherent thought—drifted vacantly back to the earthen floor. Even after entering the earthen floor, she simply stood there in a daze. It was a sensation both joyous and uneasy—somehow ominous yet trembling through her entire being with longing—utterly untethered, as though her feet did not touch the earth, as though my physical body floated weightless. Not even the faintest beginning of deliberation—of *what should be done*—had yet arisen within her.

Of course, thoughts like dreams concerning Komuro had crossed Tekona’s mind countless times before—but for something to strike as suddenly as lightning was beyond all expectation. Thus, in girlish helplessness, she found herself utterly flustered, unable to utter a single word of considered reason. When facing him, the very notion of measured thought had been beyond imagining, but now that she remained alone and her heart had finally settled, a sense of insufficiency—of having spoken too little in that moment—stirred within her, vague yet tinged with regret. When awareness came that she must discuss today’s events with her parents and brother, she grew conscious of fiercely flushed cheeks, and an indescribably pleasant sensation welled up fitfully in her chest. A faint ripple of a smile seemed to stir across Tekona’s eyes and lips.

Tekona, startling even herself with how abruptly she moved, sat down on the veranda with a sudden thud. She took the obi sash in hand to examine it. She gazed fixedly at the beautiful shidare-patterned obi sash. She read the poems again and again. Gazing at the obi and reading the poems—even within her helplessly beloved heart—she felt an acutely pressing matter of personal destiny drawing near. What should she do... Of course she had to consult her family... What would become of her? As thoughts of social status and such matters came to Tekona’s mind—though she could not help but feel some confusion and unease—the movements of her hands and feet grew light with the sensation of having encountered newfound radiance.

Tekona began tidying the unhulled rice while tracing the lingering fascination of the dream she had just seen, her heart racing toward Komuro. The tautness of his voice and features, the vigorous precision of his bearing, the refreshing craftsmanship of his sword and the spiritedness of his young steed—all seemed perfectly aligned with Komuro's character. Yet during their conversation, none had registered in her awareness. Now alone with her thoughts, even Komuro's visage came into sharp focus—down to the mole beneath his earlobe clearly visible in her mind's eye. Then she recalled how her cousin Tanno and Morishita's Tatsuo had exhausted every means to show their profound kindness. Tanno, being a quiet and gentle man by nature, never spoke of it—but when fire broke out at Tekona's house, he had worked as though casting aside his own life. When Tekona thanked him with "Our house was saved entirely through your efforts," Tanno's expression as he uttered "For your sake, what life would I not..." had been carved deep into her heart. Tatsuo too was by no means detestable to her. The magnificence of his mounted posture stood truly unmatched—so much that none who saw him ride past could refrain from turning for another look. In his conduct toward Tekona, there lingered not even a hair's breadth of anything disagreeable—no more than the tip of a rabbit's fur. "Even one meeting with you on the road would bring a hundred days' joy—yet I harbor no presumptuous thoughts of claiming one such as you..." These words too remained vividly etched in Tekona's memory.

Even as her heart now leaned almost entirely toward Komuro, Tekona found herself unable to cease recalling Tanno and Tatsuo. What joy in this world could compare to being cherished with genuine affection? Moreover, as a woman occupying society's passive position, there could be no cause for displeasure in being thought of by men. Tekona firmly believed marital bonds were ordained through divine judgment—not the slightest inclination to choose men at whim remained in her heart. Therefore she deeply sympathized with Tanno and Tatsuo's sincere devotion. Were there destined ties with either man through heaven's decree, Tekona would not refuse compliance. If bodies could be divided, how she longed to apportion herself between Tatsuo and Tanno! Thus whenever Komuro came to mind—those two surfacing with him—shame burned at having neglected the old while embracing the new. This pitying ache proved impossible to dispel.

The two without status and Komuro with status—such comparisons held no bearing on Tekona’s love. Tekona was as beautiful in heart as she was in face. Such base thoughts were utterly absent from Tekona. That Tekona leaned more toward Komuro was because Komuro possessed more of the qualities that could satisfy her. Now, did this mean Tekona intended to follow Komuro without a moment’s hesitation? That was decidedly not the case. Matters of fate were determined by divine judgment; as for the relationship between Komuro and me—after undergoing many trials from this point onward... What would become of us? Tekona simply continued thinking this way.

Tekona turned over a thousand thoughts in her mind yet tidied the unhulled rice without a single misstep in her accustomed work. When she took up the bamboo broom and began sweeping the garden,the customary dusk had risen in the eastern sky revealing,the fifth-day moon of early winter above,the hazel trees. The father,and brother had returned shouldering hoes,and leading horses;the familiar sound of,the latter's beloved horse snorting could be heard. Mother who had gone on an errand to relatives seemed-to-have returned-as-well;there were voices-of people near,the hedge. Tekona now belatedly realizing that dinner preparations were running late did-not go-out-to,the voices-at,the gate but hurriedly set about working-in,the kitchen. The father,and-brother both nodded-in-agreement at,the state-of,the gatefront trampled-by hooves while,the mother paid closer-attention-to how,the hoofprints extended deep within-the enclosure. The three-of-them noticed-it yet none gave voice-to-it. “Nice weather…It’s gotten cold…”they said-in high-spirits-as-they entered,the earthen-floor. They set-down their hoes-with,a heavy thud. “Tekona!Tekona!” “Isn’t-it dark without lighting-the lamp?”was-the mother’s voice. They each attended-to their evening-tasks. The small-house suddenly became lively. Brother put-the horse into-the back stable-and prepared fodder. Mother,Brother,Father,and-Tekona exchanged warm pleasant-conversations-in,the dimness,and even-to outside-eyes-it made-one think-that happiness must-dwell-in this household’s future.

IV

After the evening meal was finished, the four family members gathered around the low lamp by the hearth. "If this weather keeps up, autumn'll be a breeze," said Brother. "Rare to have such fine days this late—ain't no hardship in a season like this." Father replied, "Autumn work's mostly wrapped up now we've finished sowing today. The women can start at the looms come tomorrow." "Speakin' o' looms, Tekona—the cotton's come up mighty fine," Brother continued with uncharacteristic volubility. "Best go check t'field t'morrow, eh? Those bolls're white as snow now." Brother and Father seemed to have forgotten the matters Tekona had pondered at dusk. Even Mother, usually so talkative, appeared preoccupied and disengaged from their conversation. Tekona's thoughts raced solely over the day's events. Since she meant to speak of today's matters once she gauged the conversation's flow, she couldn't engage with Father and Brother's topics. The pounding turmoil in her heart refused to settle.

Her brother, resembling their father, was somewhat stocky—a quiet youth who spoke little in daily life, never flustered, always composed. In both appearance and voice, Tekona possessed a distinct quality—gentle yet sharply perceptive in nature, with a nervous sensitivity—that closely resembled her mother; Tekona was, in essence, the mother’s qualities refined through nurture. Moreover, there was a reason why a beauty like Tekona had been born into this household—it was no accident. Tekona’s maternal great-grandfather Mononobe Oyu was a figure of such renown in Katsushika that he had once been summoned to a mounted archery event at the manor, where he achieved unparalleled distinction. As his reward—arranged through the lord’s personal intervention—he wed a mutually beloved beauty, and thus the two became the envy of the entire province. Tekona’s mother was the granddaughter of that prestigious family. That Tekona’s mother had married into the humble household of Ashiuto (Tekona’s father) from that prestigious family—a circumstance fully explained by the two characters for “mutual love”—yet from such origins, the strong-willed mother harbored an ardent hope: to somehow elevate her two children into individuals of prestige. The prayers offered each morning before the household shrine had indeed remained unchanged as though ten years were but a single day. Whether that was the reason or not, Brother Shōsai appeared quiet and good-natured at first glance, but when it came to martial arts, he did not easily yield to others; under no circumstances would he ever part with his beloved horse. Should a summons from the manor ever come, his settled resolve to leap into fire or flood stood firm as steel.

Tekona’s mother, having unexpectedly heard rumors today about what should mark the beginning of Tekona’s social advancement, hurried home in her joy—only for her thoughts to become deeply entangled upon seeing signs at dusk that Lord Komuro had visited as usual. Even for her normally thoughtful disposition, she found herself somewhat at a loss for judgment. In any case, after hearing Tekona’s innermost thoughts, she had been waiting for all four family members to gather—but when Ashiuto and Shōsai began their usual artless conversation, she found it unbearably frustrating. However, because neither Mother nor her sister engaged with him at all, Shōsai soon exhausted his topics of conversation.

Noticing her mother’s demeanor, Tekona gently laid his obi and poem before her family and recounted the day’s events in full. She explained that the obi had been left without any opportunity for consideration, and that she had not accepted it with deliberate intent. The shame of having to speak of my own love from my own lips set my face ablaze like fire. If I consider it as a matter concerning Komuro Shibeshiro—no ordinary man—then it stands to reason I cannot keep it confined to my own heart. Though the intention was to rely on her family’s arrangements in either case, when considering Tekona’s true feelings, it could also be seen as her merely seeking their consent. By no means was Tekona’s heart as cold as to say that whatever happened was of no consequence. When it came to thinking of Tatsuo and Tanno as well, it was not her intention to make people entertain idle thoughts in vain.

That one must exercise discretion in settling oneself in an appropriate position—this would be the natural thought of any prudent woman. Tekona would never go so far as to say that, but it was the natural course events should take. Father and Brother spoke in unison: “To you, Tekona—blessed as you are—where’s there any lack to speak of in status, character, or sincerity? What’s there to deliberate? We oughta send our reply prompt-like…” Shōsai read the poem once more and grew even more deeply moved. Father continued to lavish praise on Komuro’s character—extolling him as a thoughtful lord who even won the goodwill of the lower ranks—and wiped away tears of joy, declaring that this turn of events was wholly due to the gods’ divine arrangement, a blessing beyond measure.

Mother, having heard everyone’s words, seemed ever more troubled in her thoughts yet still did not utter a single word. Ashiuto, Shōsai, and Tekona all fixed their eyes in equal measure, awaiting the words their mother was about to speak. When they had taken their seats, at last she began to speak. She began by summarizing:

Mother had heard something unexpected today from her brother in her hometown. Lord Shinobu, the young master of Hitachi Province’s feudal lord, having caught glimpses of Tekona on several occasions despite his habitually reserved nature, found his affections—casting aside all propriety—layered a thousandfold, then eight thousandfold until becoming unbearable, compelling him to confess these feelings to an elderly maidservant serving nearby. Now that Komuro Shibeshiro himself had become the subject of rumors and was said to be sighing ever more deeply, it was told that before long, some envoy from the manor would likely appear.

“Without hesitation,” Mother declared, “if Lord Shinobu’s intentions in such matters are indeed genuine, there could be no greater happiness than this. “Not only would this secure our household’s rise in status, but even as a single warrior, Lord Shinobu surpassed Lord Komuro,” she repeated. “Even Brother or Father would have no reason to disagree if it is a request from our lord, Lord Shinobu.” If an envoy from the manor arrives tomorrow—were the words the three of them had spoken in unison. Given that there was currently no means to reach a definitive resolution either way, they concluded that until confirming what proposal the envoy from the manor would bring, they could not send any formal response to Komuro—thus bringing the discussion to a temporary close.

Afterwards, just as the three had agreed upon, they all gazed at Tekona and sighed in wonder at what a divinely blessed child she was, marveling at this reality that seemed like something out of a story. Shōsai, owing to his simple nature, had always regarded the young lord as godlike. Yet upon hearing that his own sister was now the object of that lord’s affections, he declared this to be no ordinary matter. Ashiuto, for his part, acknowledged that even Lord Komuro would be a son-in-law exceeding their divine fortune, yet when compared to our lord Shinobu, Lord Komuro inevitably ranked a step below—for despite his youth, Shinobu’s magnanimity in all matters was that of a lord born to his station. Mother’s praise of Shinobu was meticulous in its detail. He was not merely a magnanimous young lord. Whether in horsemanship or archery, in scholarship or character—brave yet loving—he surpassed Lord Komuro even in demeanor.

Tekona could find no way to interject into their discussion and sat with downcast eyes in silence. Of course Tekona herself felt not the slightest aversion toward Shinobu; rather, the preciousness of being regarded by the province's young lord filled her with joy beyond words. How could her heart remain unmoved by the thought that such an eminent man as Young Lord Shinobu cherished such feelings for her? Yet the emotion once kindled by Komuro could not easily fade from Tekona's heart—even were Shinobu who came later to surpass Komuro tenfold. All the more so given Tekona's nature that seemed compassion incarnate.

Tekona had first become attached to Komuro and later felt emotional pain toward Tanno and Tatsuo—now she found herself feeling even greater anguish on Komuro’s behalf. If I were indeed to be taken by Lord Shinobu—though it would be happiness beyond divine blessing—to what depths of disappointment and resentment would Lord Komuro sink...he who had been so passionately praised? Though I never spoke aloud of my affection for him then—my heart had truly reached his. So he had returned home full of hope—only for it all to vanish like a fleeting dream...how profound must his regret have been. Yet even so—how could I oppose Lord Shinobu’s earnest affections steeped in kindness and obligation—while maintaining fidelity toward that man I had never accepted? ...This was Tekona’s torment now laid bare—she who was beautiful from birthright through soul.

In contrast to her father, mother, and brother rejoicing without reservation, Tekona sank ever deeper into contemplation. Tekona had now utterly forgotten herself. A lowly woman had even forgotten the fortunate position of being loved by the young lord and was lost in thought. Tekona began to realize that her own happiness was fading away because she was loved too intensely by others. A feeling came over her that even the hope of dwelling in carefree, noble joy—at least in spirit—was now fading away. Even if Tanno and Tatsuo were unavoidable, to plunge even that Lord Komuro into disappointed lamentation and find myself alone delighting in a happy marriage—such a thing seemed utterly unthinkable.

There were many who loved, yet only one who was loved. That a single thing could not satisfy many desires had been ordained since the world first began. Tekona's anguish was no dilemma of loss or gain. It was no conflict between good and evil. Nor was it a choice between this or that. Her suffering did not stem from failing to fulfill obligations. She wandered lost in the elusiveness of emotional fulfillment. Tekona now found her own existence pitiable. "If only I were cherished by just one—be it Komuro or Shinobu… Ah, what joy that would bring," she lamented.

The matter was a grave affair for our household. The family members were constrained by such intellectual considerations. To the three who maintained a completely bystander-like attitude toward emotions, there was ultimately no way they could perceive Tekona's inner anguish. Sure enough, Mother fixed suspicious eyes upon Tekona's cheerless countenance.

“Tekona—have you made some promise with Lord Komuro?” [...] “Then why does being favored by our lord, Lord Shinobu, bring you no joy?” she pressed. It was indeed a parental concern of utmost sincerity. All the more so for Tekona’s mother, driven by ambition—to see her daughter’s hesitant expression in this situation came as an immense shock. Mother then turned even to Ashiuto and Shōsai, admonishing them that as this was a matter of grave importance, they must not err in their judgment…….

Tekona—

Though there was a distinction between lord and commoner," she lamented inwardly, "in truth lay neither inferiority nor superiority—to spurn either would burden my heart; now I wish only to dwell alone."

“How vile you are, child!” Mother angrily scolded. Father calmly said, “That is your own heart’s desire. Consider your parents’ wishes.” “Consider the lord’s favor and the young lord’s true feelings,” he said.

Shōsai, deeply perceiving his sister’s anguish, kept sighing as if overcome. “Let us leave all to divine judgment—Tekona would never defy our parents. At any rate, we must await the manor’s envoy,” he declared. Though Mother’s worried expression remained clouded, unable to doubt that Tekona—who had never deceived—had made no pledges to Komuro, she determined there must still be some way to arrange matters if even this were so, and thus formally concluded their discussion here.

Shōsai tended to his beloved horse's night feeding and gathered stored chestnuts and persimmons on his return. The abruptly transformed household's scene of merriment spilled over into laughter-filled commotion that made the neighbors envious.

V

This morning’s frost was fierce. The deeply clear navy-blue sky rendered the refreshing morning scene even more sacred. As one watched, the morning sun began to shine through the treetops of the woods behind the house. The reflection brightened the narrow wellside. In a small thicket about one ken west of the well, a grasshopper sparrow chirped piercingly. On the small shelf by the sink, the rice-washing basket, rice-washing tub, washing bucket, and such were neatly washed and laid upside down. Carrots and daikon radishes, still with their leaves attached and laid out, were also beautiful. Everything around was impeccably clean, and Tekona’s usual refined demeanor was clearly manifested here. Amidst the north-side grove, persimmon leaves and ivy leaves still retained clusters of color, imbuing the early winter's canvas with vibrant essence. When had it come? A wagtail twitched its tail on the raised earth by the sink. Solitude deepened into still deeper solitude.

A voice singing a folk song, like the tinkling of a small bell, could be heard from the kitchen direction. Before long, Tekona came out to the wellside holding two or three utensils in her hands. As she placed the clay vessel into the lowered washing bucket and reached for the well rope, she peered into the well and exclaimed, "Oh, the red leaves!" The well's water lay near the surface. Two or three large persimmon leaves floated there. Though Tekona gazed entranced at the crimson foliage, had anyone been present, they would surely have been captivated instead by her face reflected in the water. The strands of her coiled hair and artless arrangement of bangs formed an indescribably lovely silhouette. Her bright morning countenance showed little trace of inner turmoil. She seemed nearly to have forgotten yesterday's events and last night's fraught discussions. Had she truly entrusted everything to divine providence? Or could a girl of Tekona's years simply accept such circumstances? Like one who finds unexpected calm after plunging into fearsome seas, perhaps having fully immersed herself in these events, she now gazed absently at the floating leaves while humming: *Threshing rice with these hands* *Tonight again* *Will the young lord take and sigh?* Her voice carried no lightness of heart.

*"My hands that pounded rice now hang heavy—"* Again tonight— The lord’s young son takes [it] and grieves—

Upon closer observation, Tekona was not particularly entranced by the crimson leaves, nor was she drawing water, but rather kept repeating the same song. Her voice carried no trace of ease. Could it be that Tekona harbored anguish deep within her heart? Yet a beauty harmonizes with any circumstance she inhabits. She blended seamlessly into her roles as mistress of the thatched hut and keeper of the wellside. Were she made guardian of these domains, both would glow with radiance. And should she become mistress of a lord’s manor, that manor would shine; were she elevated to an imperial court, that court too would gleam—such was Tekona’s nature.

“What’s so amusing?”… It was Mana, Tatsuo’s sister, who called out ardently as she ran up to Tekona. The two exchanged brief smiles and peered into the well together. “Oh, what beautiful red leaves!” Mana exclaimed. Was Tekona a pearl and Mana an agate? Two jade-like faces must have been reflected in the water. Though called agate, it was no cheap gem. Compared to pearls, they may indeed be inferior.

There was nothing in the world more enviable than young comrades who neither declared their purpose for coming nor questioned how they had arrived. Soon Mana drew water for her. Tekona did the washing. As they worked, Mana spoke of rumors about a grand horse competition at the manor this month—how her brother Tatsuo had begun grooming horses since dawn—and how she had just told Shōsai these tidings too. When finished washing, they lined up their backs once more and entered the kitchen.

Since this autumn, Mana had been coming frequently to Tekona’s house on various pretexts. Now Tekona and Mana had become inseparable friends, though there was a curious twofold reason for this. Initially, it had been Tatsuo who devised a plan to use his sister as a bridge to gain entry to Tekona’s household. Yet through her repeated visits, Mana unwittingly came to harbor secret affections for Shōsai instead. The character of Tekona—whom her brother loved—was something Mana herself deeply admired despite being a woman. That Mana had finally begun nurturing feelings for Tekona’s brother was a development whose motives felt utterly natural.

Mana undoubtedly fulfilled her duty to her brother, but his objective ended almost in disappointment. Mana secretly sympathized with her brother’s disappointment, yet she could not bring herself to abandon her own feelings because of it. Now when Mana came to this house, she even prepared an excuse before her brother. As long as she had a pretext, Mana would help Shōsai with his work. When Shōsai assigned work to Tekona, Mana would invariably join in. Shōsai was a clumsy man who approached everything in a roundabout manner; Mana, unable to bear watching, would offer suggestions like “Do it this way” or “That way,” only to be frequently scolded by him. "What’s with this damn brat?" he would sometimes mutter in such mood-killing complaints. Yet at other times, he would use Mana almost indiscriminately, showing no regard for Tekona.

Like her brother Tatsuo, Mana was quite spirited, but no matter what unreasonable things Shōsai said to her, each one seemed to delight her. Of course, everything Shōsai did was without ill intent, but to Mana, this likely made him all the more endearing. Tekona and even her parents were fully aware of Mana’s demeanor and understood it clearly, yet the main person himself remained completely oblivious. Every time Shōsai spoke guilelessly, the three would exchange knowing smiles. However, while Tatsuo’s love no longer held any path to success, Mana’s wish was nearly fulfilled. Tekona’s parents also favored Mana’s temperament. Particularly, the parents appeared thoroughly pleased rather than otherwise that [Mana] had developed feelings for Shōsai. Moreover, if his parents approved, Shōsai would never insist on his own preferences in such matters. Therefore, should any auspicious event befall Tekona, it was perfectly clear that Mana’s own settlement would follow next.

Mana was one year younger than Tekona and still only seventeen, but with her usual spiritedness, she never lost to her friends no matter what task she was given. Therefore, her feelings toward men were strangely at odds with that temperament. She detested men who directed slick flattery at her or adopted tones meant to please women. "Men are so repulsive"—this being Mana's constant refrain, she would dismiss any such man outright as a smirking fool.

Laughed at by his parents and younger sister for not grasping "that," Shōsai remained utterly oblivious—a man truly without pretension or any hint of unpleasantness. Mana thought this. Shōsai never complained over trifles. Though incapable of showy kindness, he never imposed his feelings to make others weep, nor harbored any ill-natured tendencies. Detestable as clingy men were to speak with, if it were Shōsai... she’d gladly let him throw her about...

Mana seemed to be of a disposition that loved others rather than being loved herself.

Six

Mana had come to Tekona’s house that morning both to inform Shōsai about the horse competition at the lord’s manor as soon as possible and to make Tekona’s mother aware of the rumor that Lord Shinobu was deeply infatuated with Tekona. When she spoke of it, they had already discussed the matter last night; though Mana now considered her brother’s circumstances, she concluded that since Tekona’s fate had come to this, there was nothing to be done. Though her brother was pitiable, the joy of Tekona’s household would soon become her own joy, and she found her heart leaping unbidden. When Shōsai heard about the horse competition again and showed no sign of joy, Mana grew all the happier. Whenever Mana saw Shōsai rejoice, she would feel ten times that joy within her heart—so today, Mana herself could hardly keep her feet on the ground. However, Tekona’s demeanor today struck Mana as utterly unexpected.

Her personal crisis meant her family’s greatest happiness. Though happiness envied by thousands now stood imminent before her eyes, Tekona’s calmness showed no sign of agitation. Mana found herself unable to dismiss this strangeness. To Mana—who had grown gaunt through unrequited love’s trials—Tekona’s unperturbed appearance this day turned bitterly vexing. The two sat aligned on the kitchen hearth’s raised edge when Mana—how infuriating your composure is, you whom the manor lord loves, you who might receive his envoy any moment today amidst those wasting away in one-sided longing without a shred of sympathy—awaited Tekona’s reply.

Tekona's composed smile betrayed no agitation in her breast. The one entreated to show compassion showed none. For those who are loved and those who love others—unless they mutually put themselves in each other's place—it would prove difficult to hastily judge which might be counted the more fortunate. Though I might fix upon a single person as my beloved, I cannot fix those who love me to but one. Though I bear no hatred toward any, this solitary form cannot yield to many. The one I love is none but a single person—how I envy those who can devote their true hearts to just that one...

Tekona—having bundled all her yearnings—seemed to envy from her circumstances that left no choice but to follow fate’s course, the innocent ease of Mana’s single-hearted love. Mana was astonished that Tekona—who didn’t measure things by splendor—would speak of love. For a while, she could do nothing but gaze intently at Tekona’s face. Tekona, who was so cherished by two lords that she inspired even them to suddenly feel genuine reverence for her noble bearing, made Mana realize the error of forever regarding her as merely a friend.

Tekona was by no means born with a cold nature, yet though cherished by A, she had found no occasion to yield to him—and then came to be cherished by B. Before she could settle on yielding to either A or B, she came to be cherished by C and D. Just as no feelings or obligations compelling her to yield to the former had yet arisen, so too did there exist no feelings or obligations that would force her to submit to the latter. In essence, before Tekona could settle her own hopes, she found herself cherished by many—losing the circumstances to determine her fate as she wished, becoming one who could only entrust herself to others’ desires. That Tekona had entrusted her fate entirely to divine judgment and dispassionately detached herself from attachment was a natural outcome. It was not that she deliberately feigned composure. Whatever may happen will happen as it is meant to; this being Tekona’s present state of mind was precisely why she remained composed.

Though Tekona’s affection for Komuro had not yet solidified into something immovable, if Shinobu—as both the young lord of the domain and the fervent hope of her kin, his character leaving no room for distaste—then her submission to him could only be seen as a natural decree, what men call divine judgment. Yet Tekona’s obedience sprang not from emotional sway but largely from bowing to reason’s force. This was no fulfillment of love—only submission to another’s. To weigh her heart made this outcome inevitable. If the pain of abandoning Komuro lingered stubbornly while yielding anew to Shinobu felt inescapable, then Tekona stood no victor in love’s contest.

Though the proverb’s meaning about beauties and ill-fated lives differed slightly, a beauty being loved by many became, in the truest sense, the very cause of her misfortune. Tekona succeeded in the form of love while drawing near to circumstances where her spirit felt ill-fated. Had Tekona been keenly attuned to considerations of profit and loss—clinging to what people generally called honor and happiness—it would have been natural for her to rejoice at this juncture in replacing Komuro with Shinobu. Yet her innate nature, seeking satisfaction solely in beautiful emotions, remained indifferent to her still purely intellectual relationship with Shinobu while feeling pain at the rupture of her far more emotional bond with Komuro. That Tekona unwittingly spoke words envying Mana’s unrequited love was perhaps only natural—an inevitability beyond dispute.

Mana, living within her simple circumstances, could not fully grasp Tekona’s words—words that seemed composed yet tormented—so she merely said, “What’s the use in saying such things?” and did not know how to comfort Tekona. The conversation ended there, and soon after, the two went up to the sitting room.

In the inner small sitting room, three family members were still deep in discussion regarding Tekona’s circumstances. The mother had already spotted Tekona and beckoned her over. In her heart, she said that even Mana—not considered an outsider—should join this consultation. In the gathering of five, the mother expressed her concerns regarding Tekona’s demeanor and bearing. “It would be troublesome if your resolve remains uncertain when an envoy from the manor might arrive even today.” “Truly, the rise and fall of our household—the fate of us four family members—is determined by your resolve alone. Thus, you must not misunderstand even in the slightest—this intent was reiterated.”

Though anxious in emotion yet harboring no uncertainty in reason, Tekona remained alone and unperturbed as ever amidst those wringing their hands in worry. Tekona’s thoughts were steadfastly settled. Since there was no one else involved to the extent that she had to refuse even the ardent desire of Lord Shinobu, there was naturally no reason to oppose her parents’ wishes—thus, what should have been a perplexing discussion today proved not perplexing at all. Though her father and brother were not so intensely invested, while her mother conducted the consultation wholeheartedly with every fiber of her being, Tekona settled the matter with such casual composure—speaking in a way that gave her parents and siblings no cause for concern—that her mother appeared rather dumbfounded. Yet in any case, the family could not conceal expressions of relief, as though a great burden had been lifted. Though a trace of suspicion still lingered in the mother’s gaze toward Tekona, this too proved fleeting; the mother, who always took pride in her child, now reinterpreted her daughter’s unperturbed composure even upon hearing of the young lord’s ardent desire as evidence of Tekona’s discernment—and seemed newly astonished by her daughter’s noble bearing.

The true nature of Tekona’s inner emotions remained beyond anyone’s comprehension. Even Tekona herself probably did not truly understand them. In this situation, Tekona was by no means keeping her composure through conscious effort. It was simply that she had naturally become calm—of course, this was neither discernment nor noble bearing. Tekona was pure and beautiful—a woman of utmost purity, not one to put on airs, harbor ambitions, devise schemes, or entertain desires beyond her station. Because such inner virtues manifested visibly through her bearing and features, they moved people with an indescribable power. It was not merely her appearance; Tekona’s every movement exuded refinement. Anyone who saw Tekona—no matter who they may have been—could not help but feel compelled to fulfill her every wish, even if she herself desired nothing. Moreover, when someone was entreated by Tekona for anything, it was thought that there existed none in all heaven and earth who could refuse her. They say that before Tekona, even the fiercest demon becomes a mere child. There was no regret in having thoroughly revealed these recent circumstances.

Just as fragrance and light drifted through the air where a celebrated flower bloomed, delight never parted from where Tekona resided. Tekona herself did not understand why, yet she held little attachment to worldly honors. Tekona was held in affection by Komuro and cherished by Shinobu—it wasn’t that she felt no happiness at all. However, this was not the intellectual joy others imagined, but a pleasure existing solely in the domain of emotion. Herein lay what even her parents and siblings could not grasp—the relationship between Komuro and Tekona abounded in emotion, while that between Shinobu and Tekona remained inseparable from matters of reason. The reason for Tekona’s remarkable composure in this situation began to grow somewhat clear.

VII

Indeed on this day, the old woman from the Hioki family entered through the hazel tree gate. The old woman remained standing in the garden and first had her attendant announce their purpose as envoys from Young Lord Shinobu. Ashiuto and his wife came scrambling out and welcomed the envoy with deep reverence. The old woman also humbly deferred, appearing almost like an envoy bearing the lord’s command. Even from a single glance at the old woman’s demeanor, one could discern just how deeply Shinobu was enamored with Tekona. The old woman calmly stated that she was not an official envoy from the great lord but a private messenger from the Young Lord, then finally began to explain her purpose. With meticulous attention to the order of her words, she explained to Ashiuto and his wife in such detail that even Shinobu’s painstaking efforts to convey every last ounce of his feelings became evident. The couple could only weep in gratitude, overwhelmed by the divine favor of such an undeservedly gracious command.

“These feelings first arose when the cuckoo cried among fresh leaves—on the day of our tutelary deity’s festival,” she relayed with trembling gravity. “Since then, I carried this lump in my breast without a single day’s respite from anguish.” “On dewy dawn-moon nights when torment overwhelmed me,” continued the envoy’s quavering voice now thick with borrowed passion, “I sought solace in covert hunts—yet lingering by hedgerows ten times over yielded not one glimpse of my beloved’s shadow.” Her aged hands clutched air as if grasping Shinobu’s desperation. “Bound by this accursed chain of lordship—finding no divine sign despite prayers—I could only plead for fortune’s turn.” A shudder passed through her frame like wind through bare hazel branches. “Then came Komuro Shibeshiro’s rumors spreading unchecked—this warrior’s resolve now crumbles like earth from an earthquake-shattered cliff! How might such tides be stemmed?” Her next words fell like frost: “Should belated word reach me that Tekona wears another’s bridal robes—know my life ends with that dawn.” Yet steel returned as she straightened—a lord’s proxy once more: “But Shinobu is a warrior’s son! He’d never seize hearts through brute authority like mindless beasts.” The plea that followed cracked like ice underfoot: “If Tekona chooses Komuro first—by all gods I swear no hindrance!” Her palms pressed together in prayerful emphasis—a gesture foreign to her station yet achingly human. “Though love’s grief consume me—for her sake alone I pray blessings unceasing.” At last she knelt—forehead nearly touching tatami—voice reduced to ash: “If you’d weigh this sincerity stripped of lineage… lay bare your unguarded hearts…”

The old woman finished speaking with a trembling voice. Included with a set of seasonal garments was the customary poetic message. Tekona appended her true reply.

Ashiuto, perhaps overwhelmed, found his words disordered. He swore an oath to the gods of heaven and earth and declared that Tekona harbored no disloyalty. When considering Young Lord Shinobu's sincerity—which could hide not even a speck of dust on a rabbit's fur-tip—he made his wife recount in detail the relationship between Komuro and Tekona. There, Tekona too emerged and confirmed her parents' words as fact.

The old woman’s joy—like thirsty green grass meeting rain—naturally manifested in her eyes clearing and her voice becoming refreshingly bright. The old woman still affirmed this in like manner. Firstly, regarding Komuro Shibeshiro’s side, they were advised to skillfully refuse the matter while ensuring arrangements were made to leave no lingering resentment. As for this side, Lord Shinobu resolved that should he secure first-place victory in the upcoming horse competition—with the great lord’s gracious command as his fortune—he would surely attain victory on that day and thereby gain approval for Tekona’s matter. When she spoke of how one born of noble lineage naturally comported himself with strikingly distinguished conduct in all matters, Shōsai—who had been listening—edged forward with an impatient look and declared, “Tekona’s brother Shōsai too has striven earnestly to join the ranks of honor in this horse competition! Pray convey this to the Young Lord!” The family’s joy swelled beyond containment despite their efforts to restrain it. The old woman promptly reported the details to the Young Lord and took her leave, eager to witness his joyful countenance.

With matters thus settled, Tekona’s mother need not say—Ashiuto and Shōsai too became uniformly energized, their tones naturally buoyant, until liveliness overflowed within the small house.

While the three family members remained buoyant in their mood, Tekona alone already nursed a pained heart. Once she had not thought unkindly of Lord Komuro—but now that her own feelings had clarified themselves, how was she to answer him who had parted from her so joyously resolved? Even were there unavoidable reasons—since even I find reason powerless to quell these emotions—how should I return the obi? How should I return the poem? In her pain at imagining Komuro’s disappointment, Tekona found no space in her heart to feel joy at her own happiness. However she considered it—what must be said could not remain unsaid. The day when she must give Komuro a reasoned explanation drew inexorably near. Tekona forgot everything and fell into turmoil.

It was not that Tekona's capacity to feel joy at Shinobu's sincerity was weak. Yet she could not sever from her breast this feeling of sympathy toward Komuro's disappointment. Yet if this Tekona—whose admirable quality lay in welcoming the new while discarding the old—were one as futile as watering stone, then even dignified men would not have wept.

While Tekona remained withdrawn and groaning alone, in the inner rooms the three family members began discussing matters concerning the Komuro household. Her mother suddenly called Tekona and said, "The words to be conveyed to Lord Komuro—you must phrase them as you think best." There was no one but Father to serve as messenger.

Tekona composed a poem for her father to deliver, remaining awake throughout the night. Mama Inlet—unable to resist the first ebbing tide The swaying jeweled seaweed cannot resist—my lord In vain, the shame of speaking—what can I do? If the thoughts you would harbor—

Tekona articulated words clearly yet wore reluctance plain upon her face. Amidst their boundless joy lingered one cloud unresolved - this all knew well. Needless say sprang from Komuro-Tekona matters left unsettled. Now demanded conclusion above all else. Next day saw Father bound for Komuro's hall. With deepened pensiveness Tekona laid last night's verse before him, "That I treasure your profound heart remains unchanged - yesterday today frost nor dew altering - yet ere matters settled came command from Lord Shinobu's manor forcing unavoidable course. For those bound by masters parents even self follows not self-will by custom. All must deem divine design beyond mortal power. Though you resent Tekona know she betrayed not from heart - pray pity frail woman powerless... Thus convey my words let rest lie with Father's discretion."

For Ashiuto—ordinarily taciturn and now faced with this grave duty—it was truly a formidable task. Since he deemed today’s situation unavoidable, he set out resolved to do his utmost for his family and child. Komuro Shibeshiro, in the heat of anger, might make unreasonable demands. To skillfully navigate that situation, fulfill his duty without leaving resentment, and return safely was no ordinary feat. Ashiuto’s worries were manifold. Ashiuto, praying only to the gods in his heart, resolved to convey every detail of the matter and Tekona’s words without concealment or omission, leaving all to follow its natural course no matter what might happen.

Even Tekona—along with Mother and Shōsai—worried over Father’s duty, so on this day, nothing could be attended to. They did not go out to their usual tasks and waited for Father’s return.

When Father returned in high spirits near dusk, the family's joy was beyond words. Ashiuto took one look at his household's faces and blurted out, "Lord Komuro is a remarkable man." "No—truly exceptional! It turned out completely different from what we'd imagined... Well, needless to say, everything concluded favorably." With this makeshift ending to his account, he stepped inside. Though Ashiuto had approached the Komuro residence nursing faint hostility, their exceptionally courteous reception and Komuro's unexpected graciousness left him thoroughly impressed. Lord Komuro indeed measures up to the Young Lord. Though matters now stand beyond remedy—had he been an unrelated party—we should've consented to Lord Komuro's suit a day sooner. He'd even come to believe Tekona's inexplicable hesitation wasn't unreasonable after all,

He had indeed considered that such matters could not be voiced before Tekona. Those skilled in diplomacy might manage it, but for Ashiuto—a man without subterfuge—measured words proved impossible. Ashiuto, who sympathized with Komuro from his very core, ultimately praised him exactly as he had resolved to do. According to Ashiuto's account:

Komuro's resolve was truly admirable. His demeanor proved thoroughly masculine, and with such genuinely heartfelt courtesy that even Ashiuto found himself wiping away tears. Komuro listened to Ashiuto's full account in meticulous detail before examining Tekona's poem. For some time he remained motionless in silent contemplation, never lifting his gaze from the verses. Gradually his complexion altered until at last he released a sigh that seemed eight feet deep. When finally he regained himself, trembling lips let escape but one phrase: "My fate has been ill-starred." In this world where some must die and others live on—can resignation ever be complete? Even were I capable of resignation, afterward there would remain only this empty shell of Komuro writhing uselessly. If mere expiration of joy were our burden, mankind might yet endure existence. But when every sight and sound breathes ceaseless lament—by what anchor does one cling to life? Komuro without Tekona becomes blossom robbed of dew—knowing color and fragrance find their limit at this very dawn...

Ashiuto—being neither tree nor stone—had to remain dry-eyed even should he try to weep. Komuro continued his response. "Though Tekona speaks of unavoidable developments," he reflected, "within my heart lies no alteration. If I do not resolve to abandon hope from the start, no means exist to abandon it. Should Tekona not come to me—does this spring not from her heart? If worldly obstacles bar her path—then until my life-thread snaps, I shall await her coming day." "I bear not even dewdrop hatred toward Lord Shinobu—what resentment then remains? In Tekona's sincerity and the people's consolation—all being joyously delightful—I pray for her enduring happiness. Henceforth remaining here, grant me leave to love Tekona as my heart dictates. Were love abandonable through mere resolve, no sword-bearing man would have voiced such from the first. Both obi and poem shall be presented anew to Tekona's mother. If only she might linger near me—what jeweled cord of solace that would weave."

His words held a force that could cut through iron and stone, yet even he could not fully conceal his downcast expression. None could help but sympathize with Komuro's love. Even the ambitious mother fell silent for a time, her expression betraying sympathy. Needless to say, this added layer upon layer of anguish to Tekona's heart. As the three had agreed, it was truly regrettable but an unavoidable matter indeed. While saying this, they somewhat dispersed the gloomy air. In particular, Mother—as if suddenly noticing—began all sorts of cheerful topics to lift Tekona's spirits. And she assigned Tekona a cheerful task. Of course, she too joined in the task.

VIII

It was the early dawn of the fifteenth day of the tenth month. The waning moon still retained the light of night, its pale shadow tilting toward the distant, vast fields of Musashino. By six or seven, the starlight could still be counted. The inlet at high tide saw the silver waves' motion gradually begin to subside. A mist-like vapor enveloped the groves across the entire village, presenting a natural scene of utter stillness—no birds flew, no leaves stirred. Yet within this tranquil realm, the human settlement seemed to harbor a faintly bustling murmur. The village was filled with a swelling clamor that pressed through every corner in booming waves. Nearby, the sounds of horses snorting, people striking objects, and footsteps running all merged into a single booming din. The human activity poised to erupt was, for a time, working beneath the dawn's light.

From Mama’s Hill, where groves grew thick and deep—from the manor of Lord Oki, the county magistrate—the first drum now resounded, its boom shaking the white dew-laden sky. The resounding boom that startled the echoes of the great forest soon rolled across the inlet’s waves and spread through several leagues of the county beneath the dawn sky. At the same moment, the clatter of hooves arose in unison throughout the county. All of them galloped toward Lord Oki’s manor. By the time the waning moon had completely lost its pale light and night fully gave way to dawn—when the figures of people crossing Tsugibashi Bridge became distinctly visible—over two hundred mounted warriors stood arrayed in two long rows before the gate, awaiting the second drum. When sunlight was discerned in the distant eastern clouds, the second drum sounded. All preparations for the equestrian archery grounds were complete, and the knights had all taken their designated positions.

Young Lord Shinobu emerged clad in a white robe upon a red horse and delivered commands to the knights. He announced rewards from first to twentieth place to hearten them greatly, while declaring his resolve to compete as a rider himself. Though none lacked sense, hearing their young lord’s own exhortations firsthand made their spirits surge a hundredfold—their hearts’ fervor sufficient to pierce solid rock. Once breakfast had been distributed from the manor and the third drum sounded, mounted archery would begin—such was the order of proceedings.

The manor of Lord Oki belonged to a renowned old family known for its abundance of large ancient trees. Ascending the hill directly from Mama’s Tsugibashi Bridge led one into a great forest spanning about four kilometers in all directions—a realm where pines, cedars, cypresses, and camphor trees of unknowable age towered into the heavens. The cedars and cypresses alone were said to number over a hundred thousand trees, creating a lush atmosphere reminiscent of the age of the gods. At its center stood Hioki’s manor. Spanning over ten *chō* beyond its gate and another ten within—amidst ancient pines resembling azure dragons dancing in the sky—stood several unadorned yet ineffably dignified residential halls: this was Hioki Mushimaro’s manor.

Exiting the gate and proceeding right for over one *chō* brought one to the grand equestrian archery grounds. It was an elliptical lawn stretching over ten *chō* from east to west. With the great forest at its rear and Mama’s Inlet before it, the entire front expanse opened out toward the distant Musashi Sea, where flocks of cranes and gulls could be seen wheeling through the air. On days when the sky was clear, even the drifting smoke of Fuji could be seen. This was the equestrian archery grounds that Hioki Mushimaro boasted as the finest in the Kantō region—in Higashi-Katsushika County alone, over two hundred warriors raising prized steeds were said to reside here, a point of particular pride he found impossible to suppress.

In the eastern pine grove, the riders’ waiting areas were lined up in rows with their eaves aligned. Divided into four groups of fifty riders each, they were distinguished by their red, yellow, blue, and green robe colors. Each rider was granted silk robes and wore eboshi hats with kabutsuchi swords at their hips, jewels strung freely across their chests—their appearance so noble that all eyes gazed upon them in envy.

On the northern high stands backed by the forest, Lord Mushimaro and all members of his clan were seated in full attendance—and as Lord Mushimaro himself would deliver the judgments, the riders' fervor reached extraordinary heights. By the old woman's arrangements, Tekona and her mother appeared in a corner of the high stands. When Tekona's figure appeared upon these stands, not only the two hundred knights but every spectator's gaze converged there. It was not merely because Tekona's appearance was beautiful. For it was an open secret that once this horse competition concluded, Tekona would be welcomed into the manor as Young Lord Shinobu's beloved wife. The complete absence of any prideful air about Tekona, combined with Shinobu's manner of conducting himself as though he scarcely noticed her presence, earned great admiration among the knights. Tatsuo's crimson robe, Tanno's yellow robe, and Shōsai's green robe—each suited their wearers' personalities and captured the crowd's gaze. Though Tatsuo and Tanno had now resigned themselves to their unrequited love for Tekona—even finding others with whom to exchange vows—the prospect of competing before her eyes on this auspicious stage filled them with extraordinary resolve, each swearing deep in their hearts to claim victory. In Tatsuo's case, the resolve with which he prayed to the gods—even at the cost of his life—was so visibly etched upon him that it wordlessly elevated the spirits of all the knights, their fervor reaching a truly unprecedented intensity.

In the center of the riding ground before the high stands, four targets numbered one through four had been erected. From the center of the riding ground, spaced thirty ken apart each, stood targets numbered one through four—the first being straw dummies shaped like humans. Striking the center of the chest was deemed top rank (甲), with four classes assigned below this. The second target was an ordinary shield; striking its central ink dot was deemed top rank, with four classes assigned. The third was a wild goose-shaped bird target suspended by silk threads—this had no graded ranks. The fourth was an iron shield; striking it with an arrow deemed one successful. When scores were equal, superior posture was established as the deciding criterion. As each group of four riders took one round of shots per circuit, they would complete four circuits of the riding ground to conclude their match.

The white-robed old magistrate on his white horse appeared quietly at the judgment grounds, and the third drum sounded. When the long-awaited appointed knights—those in crimson robes first, followed by yellow, blue, and green in sequence—galloped onto the grounds from the left flank, the judges immediately raised a signal banner. Simultaneously, the knights nocked arrows and drew their bows taut. The horses came charging forth in leaping gallops. In the first round’s contest, one rider struck three of four targets, another hit two, while the remainder managed only one each. The judgment office meticulously examined each arrow against the targets one by one, recording merits and demerits. Thus they repeated their circuits like a waterwheel’s endless rotation—ten times, twenty times—until by evening they had completed fifty rounds in all, a truly magnificent feat.

Shinobu, true to his status as a young lord, wore a particularly striking brocaded white robe while mounted on a steed resembling crimson-dyed splendor—a magnificent horse. Girded with a golden sword and wielding a sandalwood bow, he made a grand solo mounted archery attempt. He performed one ceremonial ride before nocking an arrow on the second round. When his third and fourth arrows found their marks splendidly, and the fifth struck that most formidable iron shield with a resonant clang, the multitude erupted in unified cheers of admiration. Tekona had consented to Shinobu’s proposal, yet carried an air of inevitability. This seemed not merely an excuse toward Komuro, but genuine resignation to circumstance. Knowing this, her mother’s anxiety knew no bounds. That day too, Mother never let her gaze waver from Tekona’s demeanor. As Shinobu’s arrow struck the final iron shield and cheers surged forth, even Tekona could not suppress a flicker of genuine delight—yet almost immediately seeming to recall herself, she hid half her face in her sleeve. This demeanor of Tekona’s put her mother entirely at ease.

The old woman, who had long been troubled by the young lord’s peculiar interest in a lowborn girl, now found her leaping heart of joy impossible to contain as she beheld Tekona—ever more radiant amid the multitude today.

Shortly after the final mounted archery concluded, the judgment regarding rewards was immediately announced. Though the order should have been Hioki Shinobu first, Mononobe Tatsuo second, Mononobe Tanno third, and Mononobe Shōsai fourth, the old woman—being well-versed in such matters—declared that Young Lord Shinobu held a separate wish beyond reward expectations under their prior verbal agreement. The old magistrate, unable to contain his delight, approved with an expression of utmost pleasure: “Very well then—let Mononobe Tatsuo take first rank and Mononobe Tanno second.” Thus did today’s horse competition conclude in grand satisfaction. Though their love remained unrequited, Tatsuo and Tanno found an exquisite joy unknown to others in having accomplished such splendid deeds before their beloved.

That very night, permission was granted from Lord Mushimaro, and Shinobu and Tekona’s wedding ceremony was to be held without delay.

IX That Tekona carried a somewhat cold demeanor toward Shinobu held no deeper meaning. For Komuro Shibeshiro, at least, there had been a direct exchange of emotions through their single meeting and intimate exchange of words; however, with Shinobu, everything remained indirect—even her compliance with his wishes had been decided through intellectual judgment alone—so no profound feelings of affection or endearment had taken root in her heart. Moreover, Tekona—with her strong sense of sympathy—could not cease feeling pity for Komuro’s disappointment; thus, it stood to reason that no new emotions toward Shinobu could well up. When she reflected upon it, she recognized the Young Lord’s consideration as nothing less than divine favor—an immeasurable blessing—yet due to this peculiar state of heart, her feelings remained unable to shift toward Shinobu. As Tekona finally saw matters reaching their conclusion—This cannot be, she thought. How did it come to this? Why could she not feel gladdened by Lord Shinobu’s regard? There were times when she would ponder alone—it wasn’t something worth causing Mother trouble over, after all. Given such circumstances, even Tekona herself had been so troubled by the state of her own heart that after their marriage, there proved to be no lack of marital harmony whatsoever. With not a single reservation lingering in the deepest depths of her heart nor a trace of her earlier anxiety remaining, she could now lean her entire being into devoting herself with utmost sincerity.

Of course, Shinobu's warm heart and profound sincerity—as though his very existence depended on Tekona—had laid bare both the doors to his chest and the locks of his heart through love. Now that Tekona had intimately received this affection, she could no longer retain even a hair's breadth of self in her innermost being. Even if she resolved not to reconcile with her sister, there was no path left but reconciliation.

Thus, amidst the swelling joy at Hioki’s residence, a new spring arrived. On this side, Mana’s wish had been splendidly achieved, and she had wed Shōsai before the year was out. For the New Year’s celebration, it was arranged that the newlywed couple would come together and attend the lord’s manor. Mother’s anxious scoldings about how this might reflect poorly in society’s eyes fell on deaf ears. Shōsai did everything exactly as Mana said. That said, Mana was not one to thoughtlessly provoke her parents’ true anger. Tatsuo laughed, saying Mana's triumph truly surpassed even Tekona's.

After New Year’s passed, spring arrived in February. Within seventy-five days, even the rumors about Tekona had begun to fade. As ever, the main talk revolved around horse boasts—discussions of this horse’s merits and that horse’s flaws, debates over colt-rearing methods and riding techniques. Come evening, each would ride out to nearby fields, sparing no effort in their practice. Now that warmth had finally returned, beyond seed consultations and hoe preparations, they let laughter blossom over tales of mishaps, settling into guileless lives. Truly, Hioki’s domain now basked in a tranquil spring of harmony.

However, on the evening of the tenth day, an unexpected event occurred, startling the entire county. Three fishermen from Mama, while out fishing, started a dispute with people from Shibeshiro territory over a trivial matter, and one of them was beaten so severely he could barely stand. They were three against their over ten, and thus suffered a crushing defeat before fleeing in disgrace. Had this been one of those baseless chance skirmishes, it would not have escalated so gravely. But as details gradually came to light, it emerged that Shinobu of Hioki’s consecutive first-place victories at the county horse competition—and his splendid welcoming of Tekona into his household—had deeply offended the hot-blooded young men of Shibeshiro territory. The resentment toward the Hioki household soon spread throughout the territory, and the outcome—hatred toward anyone from Hioki territory without distinction—gave rise to the present incident. Given that this incident stems from such causes, similar conflicts may arise again at any time in the future.

When this matter spread throughout the county, it provoked intense fury among the people. The hot-headed fellows even raged about scheming retaliation that very night. Through the placating efforts of a few prudent warriors, order was finally restored—restored it was—but their idyllic dream of peace and joy had been abruptly shattered, and with the realization that a formidable enemy lurked nearby, the people’s spirits drew taut as a bowstring.

X Devoid of any trace of resentment, Komuro Shibeshiro’s despondency and disappointment over his failed love for Tekona were beyond words in their pitifulness, yet his heart held not a shred of anger. Therefore, toward Tekona—and of course Shinobu as well—he harbored not a shred of resentment. Attributing everything to his own misfortune, he who had lost Tekona could only lament how all things under heaven and earth had become sources from which joy was now so difficult to obtain.

Since seeing off Tekona’s father at the gate last year’s end, he had confined himself to a single room, not even stepping into the garden. He did not even look upon his beloved horse—the one he had never failed to ride for a single day. Though his brother Chifumi and those who served nearby took turns comforting, admonishing, and lamenting over him—and though he earnestly wished to obey their counsel—my heart could only reply that it could not defy even its own admonishments. Thus, not only was the household steeped in desolation, but word had spread throughout the territory until it resembled a state of mourning—so much so that even boisterous laughter now drew wary glances from others. Given that their lord had always been highly praised for his wisdom and enjoyed uncommon admiration throughout the territory, there was not a single soul who did not sympathize with him. Amidst this, as splendid rumors of the Hioki family spread daily, the people of the territory felt an inexpressible pain collectively. Among them, the hot-blooded young men were choking back tears of frustration for their lord.

Unable to fathom the heart of their lord—who remained deeply resigned—they refrained from reckless action; yet should Komuro attempt to settle any grudge, those who would leap forth heedless of fire or flood numbered not merely five or ten men. After all, it was universally believed that matters would not conclude without some reckoning. These days, whenever three gathered, their talk inevitably turned to this matter; they gnashed their teeth, vowing that if they might ease their lord’s heart, they would stop at nothing—even should it require damming the very tides of the inlet—to see it through. The more prudent clansmen swallowed tears and held themselves in check, but the rash youths burned with such fury that had any from Hioki’s territory crossed their path—be it man or beast—they would have beaten them dead. Yet they could not launch some shameful invasion outright, and thus barely preserved an uneasy peace.

The incident on the evening of February tenth, being a sudden clash, ended without escalating into a major incident. Even within Hioki’s territory, some prudent individuals realized that making a fuss over this would lead to major trouble and resolved that should it happen again, we would not allow it. This time, having been persuaded to endure and keep patience, the beaten man and the other two had no choice but to swallow their tears—but their resentment continued to smolder deep within their hearts. However, for those in Shibeshiro territory, such a meager outcome did little to appease their fury. “What good would tormenting just three of those bastards do?” “Even if we slaughtered them all, there’d only be three.” “When the time comes, go all out.” “Right or wrong, if we don’t vent this frustration somehow, nothing we eat will taste good.”

They were in such a state of fervor. The slightly more prudent group, given that this matter concerned their lord and his state of mind remaining unclear at this juncture, argued that acting recklessly now might bring immeasurable trouble upon him. They were earnestly urging the hot-blooded faction to avoid petty actions, but there seemed little chance of them complying. Today being the day for the communal irrigation well’s water rotation, four or five young men were drawing sake and engaging in their usual bitter grievance discussions.

“His Lordship, being who he is, cannot act in any undignified manner; he suppresses his resentment and remains secluded. How could we, his subordinates, know this yet feign ignorance? ‘Stealing another’s lover and flaunting it through that vulgar horse competition spectacle—isn’t Lord Hioki’s conduct utterly detestable?’ ‘Anyone would fall ill facing such circumstances.’ ‘His status demands endurance.’ ‘Yet that very endurance deepens his torment.’ ‘We whom he’s always cherished cannot stand idly by as outsiders!’”

A man drunkenly wept as he said this. And not a single one of the others disagreed. “They act all knowing as if only they understand—saying reckless actions will trouble our lord—but we don’t need others’ meddling.” “All we need do is offer up our lives.” “Would we trouble anyone?” “This has nothing to do with His Lordship.” “We will merely do what we wish to do.” “If it were possible, we’d grab Shinobu Hioki by the scruff and humiliate him as we please.” “Even if that proves impossible, we must kill four or five of that bastard’s underlings to vent our fury.” “Ah, this unbearable frustration!” “How great must His Lordship’s frustration be?” “Ah, this unbearable frustration…”

Thus saying, another one wept. Another man rolled up his sleeves and began to rise. "Come now—what good is sniveling? Let's do it tonight." Just making those bastards aware of how bitterly Komuro Shibeshiro's men resented them would at least ease this suffocating pressure in our chests. "Even if His Lordship endures it—we cannot."

One of them said: “You say we’ll do it tonight—but how exactly?” “There’s no point rushing in now.” “First we need a proper plan.” “It’s fishing season—five or six of Hioki’s men will be out on the boats tonight for sure.” “Let’s gather fifteen or sixteen of us and take our own vessels out.” “Kill five or six, let one escape to spread word we’ve avenged our grievance—that’ll reach Hioki’s ears.” “When Hioki hears people died for him and Tekona, he’ll choke on his own bile.” “Might even stir up trouble himself.” “That’s when our plan clicks into place.” “If they can’t laugh anymore, His Lordship’s rage might find some release.” “We’ll offer our lives—five or six of ours against five or six of theirs. With that many dead over Tekona, their amusement dies too.” “Hioki’s bastard gets everything he wants while our lord weeps himself hollow.” “We can’t just watch that cold-eyed!” “We go tonight—no question.” “Don’t lecture us about right and wrong.” “When you throw your life away, good and evil don’t matter.” “Let’s move.” “Tonight we kill—no escapes. Move out…”

Having finalized their plan, they secretly rallied comrades and soon numbered fourteen or fifteen men. With defiant cries of "We'll bear the consequences—bring whatever comes!", the fifteen gathered at the inlet's shore. Some protested that weapons in a sneak attack reeked of cowardice, so each man readied a makeshift club. They boarded three boats—five men per vessel—launched into the inlet waters, and rowed toward Hioki's domain.

Eleven

Though veiled in thin haze, the river beneath the thirteenth-night moon glowed faintly white. In both allied and enemy villages, lights blinked intermittently like fireflies.

By the time their boats neared Mama, the sky suddenly took on a shower-like aspect. A wind that seemed startled by something rose up with a violent gust, disturbing the river surface. The wind swept a dreadful roar through the withered reed plains on both banks, howling and roaring. In the blink of an eye, the moon hid its faint form as the sky turned utterly dark. Black, cold waves slapped against the boat's side, and the vessel began shaking violently.

The group of young men, though somewhat troubled by the growing darkness—after all, they were lawless youths to begin with—could they back down now? No—they had to see it through! With even fiercer shouts, they rowed desperately onward. Finally reaching the eastern shore, they entered among the densely overgrown reed-covered sandbars.

The law-defying hot-blooded youths, having undertaken this endeavor emboldened by drink, had from the very outset pursued an objective of utmost uncertainty. Even though they had no way of knowing whether they would encounter anyone from Hioki’s domain at all, the sky darkened, the wind raged, and the waves grew fierce. Where their intended enemies might be—they had no idea whatsoever—such was their predicament. Even these youths couldn’t help but lose heart.

For better or worse, after the brief rain passed, the sky cleared like a mirror. The cold moonlight cast gold and silver upon the dreadful waves; lingering gusts occasionally stirred the reed plains—it became a night of indescribable exhilaration.

Then three small boats that had apparently been sheltering from the wind until now suddenly emerged from a narrow stream threading through reeds. These were unmistakably Mama's people. They were likely returning after completing their eel fishing with drift lines. Each boat carried three or four woven fishing baskets discernible even in the night's dimness. With two men per vessel, they paddled heedlessly forward trying to pass before our boats' prows. Having lain in ambush, our side roared without hesitation—"Halt!"—to intercept the enemy.

Though they fished as fishermen did, they were no ordinary fishermen. In their leisure time from farming and fishing, they rode horses and practiced archery—warriors through and through. Having been halted, they strained their resolute voices and demanded that those before them first declare who they were.

“We are Komuro Shibeshiro’s sworn men,” they declared. “Our lord has endured every humiliation from Lord Shinobu Hioki, yet we’ve no path to avenge this outrage. Though guiltless you stand, tonight we must spill your blood to vent our fury!” “We who attack you are resolved to die!” “Count this meeting your misfortune! Steel yourselves as vessels of our lord’s wrath—to battle!” they roared.

The voice was trembling. Their legs and hands were trembling. Even in the dim light of night, despite their ferocious countenance, Hioki’s warriors showed not a trace of panic and rose resolutely.

The target of resentment received by the lord... They would indeed stand as that very target of resentment. Even if they bore no memory of having incurred resentment, when those confronting life and death through that very resentment shouted their resolve, the bloody battle commenced at once. Though the boats were equal in number, those with more crew had leeway to focus entirely on maneuvering. They could always position their vessels in strategically advantageous locations. Moreover, being outnumbered, under encircling chaotic blows that left no time to blink, the six men became corpses laid out in their respective boats.

“Is there no one left? Striking defenseless enemies isn’t the warrior’s way.” “To live or die—that’s fate.” “Even if any revive, we’ve no cause to kill them!” one shouted. “Did we overdo it...? Isn’t there even one still breathing?” As they spoke, one inspecting the boat’s corpses found a survivor. They gave him water and ordered him to guard the five dead bodies.

The wind had ceased, leaving the night desolate, and under the pale moonlight, the eeriness only intensified. Not being villains, even they could not remain composed.

Gallant warriors—how splendid your resolve, to never dispute right or wrong! Only through our readiness to die could we slay even the innocent. May heaven and earth’s gods bear witness! Unable to judge whether this devotion to our lord was virtue or vice, we cried as one: “By tomorrow’s light, we too shall meet our ends!” Having delivered the corpse-laden boat near Mama, they commanded the shouting survivor—the one who had revived—to relay this message throughout the domain: “Let the guilty submit to judgment and let their resentment fade. But for the guiltless who nurse grievances—their bitterness shall find no end.”

Having said thus, the boat bearing the living man departed into the offing of the inlet.

Twelve When the four corpses and two cowards were delivered into their families' and friends' hands, their grief-stricken wails resembled screams that would drag the world into eternal darkness. Not a single neighbor could hear this and remain indifferent. Within moments, the entire county plunged into chaos. Those hot-blooded souls who had already endured unbearable resentment since the tenth day's events now raged madly, spitting blood as they ran. They had to exact vengeance before night's end. They named no specific target. Whether ten or twenty strong, they would charge with whatever numbers gathered. "We won't rest until we see our enemies' blood before our friends' corpses grow cold!" "How could anyone stay calm for even a moment bearing this bitterness?" Even women and children stood with hair on end. Sympathetic weeping echoed across distant fields.

Thirty, fifty, seventy, eighty—they gathered in ever greater numbers. Many were already clamoring to set out in a frenzy. Tatsuo and Tanno had also come from afar. The people who had gathered in the gardens of three nearby households with bonfires lit had each prepared their provisions and were waiting for instructions from the prominent figures. “With this many people, isn’t it sufficient?” “Do it now!” they clamored in frantic uproar. Tatsuo climbed a slightly elevated spot and addressed the crowd. “Not just once, but twice—they killed up to four innocent people! They all relied on superior numbers and carried out cowardly surprise attacks—detestable bandits even tearing apart wouldn’t satisfy! We all share the same desire to charge in for revenge immediately. Yet even if the incident’s true cause remains unclear, I believe this stems from the Hioki and Shibeshiro houses’ longstanding feud—we must consider carefully! Whether Komuro Shibeshiro truly resents Hioki so deeply, whether domain leaders harbor such lawless grudges... This may be reckless juniors’ rash scheme! If we retaliate excessively, we risk irreparable disadvantage...”

The enraged majority burst into simultaneous uproar. No one was listening to Tatsuo anymore. “You’re always spouting such half-hearted nonsense—it’s getting us nowhere!” “You and your high-and-mighty talk—this ain’t the time for that!” “Is this the time to be spouting logic?” “Leave the aftermath to those who come after—no matter what happens, can we just stay like this?!” Because they were all hurling abuse in unison, Tatsuo too fell silent.

This time, Tanno stood up. Earnest and taciturn, he was better received by the young men than the clever Tatsuo. Tanno spoke. "We've no time for lengthy debate." "Since this isn't open warfare—and to avoid disgrace when we strike—we must fix our plans before acting." "Shibeshiro shall send envoys first—ambush would shame us." "No bows or blades without the manor's leave—only bamboo spears."

“Commit no outrages along the way; press straight upon the Shibeshiro house and demand substitutes for the five.”

"If ambushed en route, engage in decisive battle without hesitation." "As for the Shibeshiro house—since I myself shall act as envoy—they will storm it within one hour." "Entrust Tatsuo with reporting this outcome to Lord Hioki's residence." He shouted to begin preparations permitting no hesitation. Not a single soul refused. Prepare the boats and bamboo spears; the instructed women boiled oil to coat the spear tips. Tanno left home from hurrying along the road only to return and prepare his horse. Tanno had resolved not to return alive even in direst circumstance. The new wife who had married Tanno at month's beginning clung to his sleeve weeping: "If you die, I die—not a moment shall I linger after you." Even Tanno—a pillar among stalwarts—set aside his horse and drew his beloved wife close. He pressed his cheek against hers several times. To die or live together—this was the language of parting.

His wife still secretly clung to the boat's departure point, yearning after the horse's tracks. Tanno rebuked her with "Do not make me craven!" and boarded the vessel together with his steed. As he gripped the oar himself and rowed toward the river's distant heart, the sight of his woman weeping in shadowed concealment—muffling her sobs lest her husband hear—tore through entrails under moonlight's glare.

The night deepened further, and over a hundred stalwart men stood pale-faced without uttering a word. All preparations had been completed as they gathered at the inlet's shore. Not a single person raised their voice. Their fierce resolve solidified like an iron mass sinking into water—their heavy, somber spirit coalesced into a unified entity ready to plummet. Those left behind—women, elders, and children—all gathered unbidden at the sacred grove to offer prayers. The voices of their desperate prayers, frozen in the night's chill, held a dreadful intensity. Even demons would weep; even gods would weep.

13

Tanno made his horse’s hooves clatter in the dead of night and rode alone to pound on the Shibeshiro gate. Prior to this, Komuro Shibeshiro had encountered the confessions of fifteen individuals and, while agonizing that only one-sixth of the matter had been resolved, was convening his clan for earnest deliberations. Komuro ordered his attendant to bring Tanno into the courtyard at once and emerged himself to receive him. Komuro stood leaning on his tachi, attended by a single retainer and robed in lengthy garments. Of course, three or four warriors stood guard along both sides of the veranda. It was a solemn spectacle—candles burning in the night’s gloom to behold an enemy envoy.

Tanno stood in imposing samurai attire, his favored sword laid at his side, his dark-complexioned and sturdy build bowing deeply with an utterly composed demeanor. He gripped a sword in his left hand and placed his right hand near his right thigh as he stated his purpose. His voice was loud, his words simple. “The violence committed tonight in Mama by the young men of your domain was no mere chance skirmish. I heard it was a killing with deep intent. The wrath of our entire district rages like spitting fire. For the spirits of five dead, we must wring out and pour the blood of fifty young men from your domain. In one more moment, the enraged group will cross the inlet. We value the honor of samurai and have come as envoys to avoid the cowardice of a surprise attack. We declare that unless we obtain the lord’s permission, no weapons shall be used.”

Having said this, Tanno continued his words, permitting not a moment’s hesitation. “Make haste with preparations in your domain as well. And once the duty is fulfilled, dispose of me as you will.”

Even in such circumstances, Komuro took notice of Tanno’s demeanor and exclaimed in admiration, “What a splendid young man!” He had evidently resolved himself early on; showing no sign of disturbance whatsoever, he calmly declared, “Very well—I shall personally meet the people of your honorable domain at the inlet’s shore.” “Wait here a moment and guide me,” he said before going inside. Before long, Komuro casually mounted his horse, accompanied by two retainers, and urged Tanno onward. Tanno, taken aback by the unexpected turn of events, could muster no thoughts and had no choice but to comply with Komuro’s orders.

When the four mounted warriors exited the Black Gate, a fierce cry arose over the inlet. "Aaaaah— aaaaah— aaaaah—!" The echoes congealing in the frigid sky were so inhumanly terrifying they scarcely seemed human. They ignited the dried reed field. Until then, there had been not a breath of wind, but once the fire ignited, the wind arose. Along the inlet’s shore stretched miles of dried reeds—they set fire to that thoroughly parched reed plain. In the blink of an eye, the inlet became a sea of fire. A tsunami of raging fire engulfed the sky. The sky-filling black clouds suddenly turned bright red. The roar of fire and human screams—the swirling, wave-like din of "Aaaaah— aaaaah— aaaaah—!" surged back and forth, drawing ever nearer.

The astonishment within this domain was beyond description. People dashed about in disarray, houses echoing each other’s panic—with many unaware of the circumstances, they could only clamor in chaos. Komuro had already commanded his retainers to make those preparations in advance, so the messengers now raced about in all directions. Tanno spurred his horse ahead and galloped toward the shore where his allies were to land. The fire scorched the clouds, and the fiery clouds in turn set the inlet ablaze. Kicking through the charred waterway, dozens of small boats rushed toward this shore like arrows. The twenty-odd first arrivals who had landed were already waiting in proper military formation. When they saw Tanno galloping up with three riders in tow, the crowd stared wide-eyed in unison. When Tanno realized this, he loudly announced his name.

Tanno dismounted his horse and concisely informed them that Komuro Shibeshiro was approaching alone before commencing deliberations. The crowd continued disembarking one after another. At this moment, Tatsuo ascended in his role as supreme commander. Though Tatsuo had not gained the group’s acceptance earlier, there was no one but him fit to lead in such circumstances. Both the crowd and Tatsuo knew this well—they stationed another at Hoki Mansion while he himself took command. Tanno was immensely relieved to see Tatsuo. Komuro’s unexpected manner of appearance left the simple-minded young men at a loss for how to proceed. Since they always relied on Tatsuo’s judgment when matters grew complex, Tanno felt profound reassurance upon his arrival now.

When Tanno reported the escalating situation, Tatsuo secretly rejoiced that his foresight had not been mistaken and allowed a smile suggesting he had realized the matter could be easily resolved to escape. However, Tatsuo knew full well that in this situation, mere perfunctory verbal courtesies would do nothing to quell the crowd’s fury. What method Komuro Shibeshiro—who had come to meet them in light attire—would employ was something even Tatsuo could not discern. Meanwhile, Komuro and his retainers dismounted their horses in the shade of a grove about forty yards from the shore. The forces led by Tatsuo had nearly all disembarked and now raised their third war cry here.

The fire in the dried reed plain had burned far into the distance.

Over twenty pine torches cast a kind of ghastly light as they illuminated bamboo spears in the dimness. Tatsuo issued commands left and right to organize the ranks, informed the crowd of the gist of Tanno’s mission, and now Komuro and his two retainers came to that grove. “We will not cease until we obtain what we seek.” “By what method does he intend to grant us satisfaction?” Tatsuo told everyone to suppress their agitated hearts and wait for a while. Tanno, accompanied by Tatsuo, mediated a meeting with Komuro; after the three held a brief discussion, Tatsuo returned and reported to the crowd as follows.

Through the prior voluntary surrender of fifteen individuals, Komuro had already learned the full story early on. His own thoughts regarding this were already settled. "The sin lies with no one—I believe the responsibility rests solely upon myself." If the honor of House Komuro demands that you all be satisfied, then for my sake, refrain momentarily from clashing with my people—who bear you no quarrel. That I have come here personally to meet you all is solely out of a wish to prevent needless strife along the way. "Then come with me to my household—I swear I shall surely fulfill your wishes."

Accordingly, Tatsuo once again addressed the crowd: “We never desired needless conflict from the start—we seek only retribution satisfying our grievances. Yet seeing him come alone makes clear he bears no will to fight. Therefore, let us follow his words and observe his actions. Unjust violence shames samurai most—you all must refrain from needless deeds on the way.” Hearing this, the eager young men grew deflated—until a voice from within shouted: “Shall we rest content with mere lip-service?” The crowd unanimously agreed and unexpectedly raised a war cry.

Komuro commanded one retainer to yield his horse to Tatsuo, then took position between Tatsuo and Tanno with their bridles aligned, setting out on the return journey. The crowd pulled back about twenty yards, formed ranks with their bamboo spears, brandished pine torches, and advanced quietly. Komuro glanced back at the two men on horseback and attempted brief conversation, his bearing and tone showing not the slightest tension—rich and vivid in manner, with no trace of discernible distress. Though Tatsuo and Tanno could not confer with one another, their thoughts aligned: How would this resolution unfold? What manner of settlement did Komuro intend? What resolve lay within him—he who had sworn to fulfill their wishes—and what measures did he plan to take? They could see no prospect at all. Even were someone to thrust forth fifteen severed heads before them now, this would not resolve the matter. No—he would never resort to such shallow measures. The more they pondered it, the less they grasped his reasoning. Tanno found himself somewhat overwhelmed by Komuro’s heroic bearing, while Tatsuo—though impatient to learn what action Komuro would take—grew vexed at his inability to discern it. Before he knew it, even he could not suppress a sense of awe.

Komuro’s mansion drew near, and Tatsuo directed the crowd to wait on a flat stretch of land about forty yards from the gatefront.

14

The crowd, feeling profoundly uneasy that only Tatsuo and Tanno would enter the mansion interior, resolved to have four or five key figures accompany the pair. Komuro invited these individuals into the garden courtyard, requested temporary respite with utmost courtesy, then withdrew with his retinue into the inner chambers. Tatsuo found himself compelled to wait in the garden as Komuro directed, yet remained utterly unable to discern how events might unfold. The immediate future felt cloaked in impenetrable darkness, his mind wandering through dreamlike uncertainty. Though prepared for worst-case scenarios, the sheer unpredictability of circumstances left him incapable of evading lingering disquiet.

Night deepened steadily; whenever moonlight flickered through gaps in the scudding clouds, it vanished from sight in an instant, returning everything to darkness. The most mysterious thing was that when Master Komuro returned, a murmur of voices could be heard within the mansion, but once it quieted, the deep night settled into profound stillness and silence—not a sound remained. Except for the occasional sound of brought-in horses pawing the ground, neither mice squeaked nor dogs barked. If one listened carefully, faint voices could sometimes be heard from the edge of distant inner rooms—voices that sounded like women’s. They could only hold their breath and focus on how things might unfold.

It was a night that could not possibly dawn without calamity striking. In this late hour steeped in utter silence, what tragic scene did the god Magatsumi now prepare to unveil? The heartbeat thud by thud—the hour drew ever closer to calamity. The crowd outside the gate raised night-shattering war cries. It was a hair-raising scream of primal terror. Now they could no longer endure their anxiety over how events would unfold and let out a roar demanding resolution. Tanno involuntarily glanced back at Tatsuo,

"What in the world could have happened…" Tatsuo seemed entirely absorbed in contemplation; whether Tanno’s words reached him or not, he gave no reply. At that instant, from deep within the inner chambers, a woman’s piercing wail rang out. Thud-thud-thud! Clatter-clatter-clatter! Aaaah— With the cries of men and women, the sounds of chaos became vividly clear—the pounding of running feet, lights darting about, until the clamor of countless shouting voices merged into a single cacophony.

The seven or eight of them uniformly tensed and rose to their feet, but soon discerned the commotion showed no sign of advancing toward them—just then, from some indeterminate direction,

“His Lordship has passed… The Lord has passed…”

And these words reached their ears. For the first time, Tatsuo and the others understood the entire course of events. Komuro Shibeshiro had finally resolved to sacrifice his own life to settle this incident—realizing this, they seethed with fury, yet even these stalwart men could now only share in overwhelming emotion, unable to utter a single word. Before they could even process someone suddenly running toward them, the two retainers—who had earlier accompanied Komuro to greet Tatsuo and the others—rushed up, announced their lord's ritual suicide, relayed his final command about delivering an eyewitness account of his last moments, and urgently pressed them to act swiftly.

Tatsuo and Tanno stumbled forward as if tumbling and were led to a chamber. Komuro Shibeshiro’s face was pallid, his lips quivering as he raised himself while leaning against a support. With his eyes indicating the letter upon the desk, he ordered a retainer to deliver it to the two men, then addressed them in a voice faint yet resolute: “Having borne all blame upon myself to reach this state, you must now withdraw peacefully…” He collapsed before finishing his words. Beside him, kinsmen lay prostrate and writhing in lamentation. Tatsuo and Tanno could only press their foreheads to the floor. Even Tatsuo—now suddenly comprehending—

“We have duly received your latest command; rest assured,” he said, but Komuro could no longer respond. Those tending to him scarcely knew what course to take. Tatsuo and Tanno too stood momentarily paralyzed, but realizing this was no place to linger, they offered earnest condolences to the two who had received them before withdrawing. As they were seen out, those same two retainers shared another tragic tale—how the fifteen who had earlier surrendered and remained in the mansion, upon learning their lord’s death was because of them, had been sent into paroxysms of grief. Their anguished wails seemed to snuff out every glimmer of light between heaven and earth.

Lamenting their own folly—how even unintended wickedness had been rationalized as service to their lord—they now cried in unison, "Not a moment more to hesitate! Follow our lord!" and aligned their heads to fall upon their swords.

Those seeing them off and those being seen off—both pairs were left choked with tears. As the moon tilted and clouds thinned, faint light spreading at the gatefront, the figures of the four parting souls felt as though beholding a denizen of the spirit world before their very eyes.

Tatsuo and Tanno exited the gate and finally regained their composure, then hurried to where their comrades waited. They tersely relayed the entire course of events and read aloud the letter they had received. The writing was exceedingly concise.

Upon deep reflection of this matter, I find no fault but in myself alone. I shall not speak at length now. My death serves a twofold purpose: firstly due to my illness, secondly as substitute for the fifty men you desired. You must return and report this to your lord. Though my death undeniably concerns Tekona, I harbor no grudge—only grief for my own misfortune. I pray Lord and Lady Hiochi shall not dwell even a hair’s breadth on my demise, but instead find lasting happiness. My house has a brother surpassing me in worth. If you comprehend the intent behind my death, restore relations between the Hiochi and Shibeshiro houses to their former state.

Written by Komuro Shibeshiro The stalwart men of single-minded fervor who would have pushed through bedrock itself without considering right or wrong—now, having heard the full account of events and had this testament read to them—included those among their ranks who were so overcome that they raised their voices and wept.

Tatsuo expressed some of his own thoughts. When one considered Komuro Shibeshiro’s noble and pure heart, none could help but weep. Though the incident had arisen from a minor misunderstanding among his subordinates, its root cause lay in his own actions. Therefore, he resolved to shoulder alone the calamity that should have befallen hundreds. Among our comrades as well, should we engage in battle tonight as intended, there’s no telling how many deaths would occur. Even I, who speaks thus, may have been saved by Lord Komuro. The comrades must fully grasp the spirit behind Lord Komuro’s death.

The crowd did not utter a word, as if each of them regretted their somewhat rash actions.

When Tatsuo and Tanno, having completely dispersed the crowd, reined in their horses before the gate of the Hiochi mansion, night had fully given way to dawn, and two or three birds with curiously mournful cries were singing deep within the grove. Lord and Lady Hiochi, having heard the full account, were so stunned by the utterly unexpected turn of events that for a time they could not utter a word. Above all, Tekona, having heard since evening that the incident’s origin lay with herself, was tormented to the brink of losing consciousness. According to what she now heard, Komuro’s state of mind had been twofold: partly his own disappointment in himself, and partly his resolve to substitute himself for the people’s calamity; moreover, though he grieved over misfortune, he left behind no grudge. His resolve—unyielding in its purity, leaving no resentment—even so, she understood it as compassion that held no hatred toward her.

Tekona, perhaps having exhausted even the strength to maintain appearances before her husband, collapsed in tears as though on the verge of ceasing to breathe.

Water nourishes people well and also kills them. Fire nourishes people well and kills them.

On the third day after Komuro’s death, the Hiochi household became as desolate as extinguished fire. Until yesterday, Shinobu had been the object of universal envy, but now he lamented, unable to endure the anguish of survival, that he envied those who had met clean deaths.

Tekona had slipped away from the mansion overnight and vanished without a trace. Though they searched with every means at their disposal, they could not find even a fragment of her belongings. While all assumed she must have drowned herself in the inlet, beyond a single unidentified boat drifting along its shore, there remained no trace to suggest she had cast herself into those waters. The villagers of Mama—whose grief for Tekona's heart had swelled the inlet's waters with rains of tears—utterly refused to speak of death in relation to her. Tekona would certainly return, they insisted. They kept saying she would come back someday. Even when rumors spread that her figure had appeared in the inlet's heat haze, they still waited for her return.

The shrine of Tekona was erected on the inlet’s shore by the generation of those who had waited for her until they grew old.