Pathway to Japanese Literature

I

Within the enclosure, the mulberry fields on sandy soil had their ridges pooled with mulberry leaves that had just fallen, their yellow still moist. The suddenly intensified cold of early winter’s charm all the more caught the eye of those with pensive hearts. The hedge that Kane’s hands had tied from south to east was an unusual nandina hedge. Clusters of red berries—ten or even twenty of them—all hung down in exactly the same manner. The vivid hues, newly deepened by the frost’s arrival, drank in the waning sunlight until their crimson burned brighter still.

It could not be called a proper gate. On both sides of the entrance stood an old hazel tree each, shaped like gate pillars. On the hazel branches that had long since shed all their leaves, soot-colored nuts in their shells clung dotted to the bare branches. The gate’s sole adornment was decayed ceremonial ropes fastened between the two opposing hazel trees. Such was the gate structure of this house. Abruptly, the wind died down, and in the clear blue sky, there was not even a whisper of movement. The family of chickens, now preparing to enter their coop, were drawing near to the thatch eaves. The family members apparently had not yet returned from the fields, and the small house composed of three structures—the rice storehouse, main residence, and outhouse—stood especially still and silent.

The front door stood open, and half the garden still had unhulled rice spread out to dry. Yet when one might assume no one remained to tend the house, a young woman soon appeared at the earthen entrance—her pale arms bared, a turmeric-dyed work sash tossed over her shoulders. Clad in a linen-lined garment with a blue collar—utterly plain—her loosely tied hair gathered at the nape, standing with hem shortened and bare feet planted, the obi sash and work sash offering the only hints of color: though she was but a country girl, this person who so far surpassed ordinary women seemed to need neither adornment nor artifice.

Tekona's appearance—from her chest to her cheeks, every feature of her face—defied description except to say it glowed. Tekona’s beauty—with its rich, vivid complexion and the noble spiritual aura imbuing her eyes and lips—was no shallow loveliness devoid of depth or meaning. There truly was no suitable term but "transcendent beauty." To liken her to spring blossoms smiling in bloom or ruby-like crimson hues—such phrases proved too commonplace to sing of Tekona.

The setting sun filtered through the treetops of Ushiroyama, casting dense light across part of the garden and making the surroundings even brighter. Tekona, her beautiful figure swaying in the breeze, busied herself with managing the unhulled rice. Having taken on both rice management and housekeeping duties, Tekona alone remained at home that day. Now as the sun dipped lower, she stepped down to tend to the unhulled rice.

The desolate loneliness of early winter; the surroundings devoid of human voices, even the chickens gathered in their coop moved with hushed stillness. Tekona too, under nature’s stimuli from her surroundings, found herself unable to keep her calm maiden’s heart from revisiting those thoughts she had lately become aware of. Even as she tried to dismiss such things—her own thoughts—she couldn’t stop new ones from welling up unbidden afterward. Though none of them—not even she herself, nor her parents or siblings—had noticed it, ever since Tekona had begun to ponder things, her beauty had only grown more radiant. There are women who grow more beautiful as they mature, and those who grow less comely. Tekona was one who, upon reaching adulthood, found her radiance had only grown more pronounced.

II

Since the end of that summer, there had been a young lord who—without any apparent purpose, never letting three days pass—would ride his horse around Mama's vicinity, parading with his splendid bearing even through rain and wind. Particularly at the hazel tree gate and outside the nandina hedge, the hoofprints never seemed to fade. And so, though none could say who started it, whispers began circulating. Among the village's young men of marriageable age, many grew resentful of the Young Lord’s frequent visits. There were even those who seethed with resolve to take matters into their own hands. Some had even taken to hurling abuse from shadowed places.

Whether because of this or not, for about a month, the hoofprints outside the nandina hedge had vanished; then today, as dusk approached, a familiar dappled grey horse suddenly reappeared beyond the hedge. In the moment it took for the rider to wheel his steed back after circling once, he dismounted without hesitation. The Young Lord—having keenly discerned that no one remained at Tekona’s house save Tekona herself—swiftly led his horse into the estate. He measured the shade of a grove and tethered his mount to a citrus tree there. Tekona noticed this figure and was indeed startled into fluster. In the grip of violent palpitations, her limbs ceased all motion. Still clutching a tray of unhulled rice, she hurriedly rushed into the earthen-floored entryway.

The Young Lord followed Tekona into the house with unhurried composure. Tekona too now had no choice but to properly compose herself to receive his personage. The Young Lord spoke in the most earnest and polite manner,

he entreated, "Allow me a brief rest, and serve me a bowl of water." Tekona too, when she came to realize that the man who had not been one-sided in his affections for her—the one who had appeared countless times before her family’s home—was none other than Komuro, the magistrate of the neighboring province, could no longer keep her heart from being stirred. From then on, whenever she heard that he had been seen, she could not help but steal secret glances at him. With his silver-forged long sword tied to the purple cord of its hilt and a dappled grey horse of exquisite mane parading before and behind him, the magistrate’s figure—dignified and valiant in bearing—was such that even Tekona could not help but find it not unpleasing. The marked disparity in status—a barrier to untainted affection—yet Tekona, though moved by his genuine devotion, found herself lost in unrestrained brooding, lying awake through many a night.

Thus, today’s meeting appeared quite sudden yet was in truth not sudden at all—but in reality, it proved more sudden than suddenness itself. Tekona, as if commanded, put down what she held. She removed her work sash, let her elbows hang slack, and assumed a downcast posture—gaze fixed on her own toes—as she stood before Komuro. Her hands and feet seemed paralyzed; her tongue and heart turned to stone—no words could form. Komuro softened his expression with effort and quietly settled on the raised hearth edge. Though filled with stalwart vigor—that keen spirit he believed nearly spanned heaven and earth—even Komuro found his usual self-assured ambition powerless now. Before love’s presence exists no force but nature’s decree to yield to the beloved’s heart. Thus in their brief facing—this scene where two sat opposite—one sensed only heartbeats: man’s rhythm and woman’s echo, twin pulses resonating through the silence. A living painting—yes, a living painting alone could name this moment fittingly.

Komuro finally remembered that he had come to ask for water. Fortunately, the hot water had not cooled; Tekona drew it into a golden bowl and presented it to Komuro. Requesting water, drawing and offering it, drinking it—through these three actions they both managed to somewhat escape the awkwardness of this moment and finally begin conversation. Komuro had rehearsed extensively how he should articulate his thousand days' worth of feelings when the opportunity arose, but upon finally facing the moment, the sequence of words he ought to speak now refused to cohere. Tekona, being a woman, could find no composure to consider anything.

Tekona, through the act of drawing and offering water, and Komuro, through his manner of sipping that bowl of water, had barely managed to settle the turmoil in their chests—yet even so, as Komuro strained every ounce of his being to devise the words he ought to speak, he found himself unable to conceal the flush rising to his face. “I have wandered near you so conspicuously that even the villagers took notice—you must surely have found it burdensome. In the desperation of my unrequited feelings, I forgot a man’s dignity and resorted to discourteous conduct. Yet all of this stems solely from my love for you—a madness born of affection. I beg you to forgive my improprieties manifold times over.”

Though his words were few, they contained immeasurable depth of feeling. How humble were these words from Lord Magistrate Komuro—a man renowned for wisdom and valor! There could scarcely be a more humble manner of speaking. The deeper his affection for her grew, the more he found himself compelled to lower his own stature. Tekona’s beauty bordered on divine, yet she remained human through and through. A heart swayed by genuine emotion surpassed even that of ordinary folk. The words Komuro spoke resonated with sincerity itself through their very tone. Her black hair streamed in the wind like jade seaweed swaying in a current; Tekona found herself involuntarily tearing up.

“For this lowly one, such gracious words are far beyond my station...” Tekona could muster no more than this greeting.

Komuro could not delve too deeply into matters during this first meeting. He simply stated his hope that she would obtain her parents’ permission so he might visit more frequently. And he announced himself as Komuro. Komuro—known throughout these parts—restating his name was customary to affirm the sincerity of one’s words.

From a man of status and dignity, though spoken from an affection-filled heart, the renewed declaration resounded in Tekona’s ears with solemn gravity. Tekona now felt moved more by obligation than by shame born of affection. Simultaneously, Tekona swiftly reflected and realized her own unbecoming conduct would bring shame even upon those who cherished her. This wise reflection of Tekona, in that very moment, rendered her countenance all the more noble.

Tekona, with an utterly compliant expression, responded to Komuro’s kindness while maintaining a solemn, sacred dignity inherent to womanhood within her few words of greeting.

Komuro, having thoroughly discerned his lover’s innermost heart, was profoundly satisfied. And since it was anticipated that his hopes too would mostly be achievable, his expression visibly took on vigor. Recognizing a joyous light ahead in the future of hopes staked with one’s very life, and feeling a fresh surge rise within the seething tides of blood—such is an experience all know in such moments. It was akin to when rainy season clouds begin to thin—the moment one faintly glimpses the sun and senses the imminent arrival of clear skies. Their exchange thus came to a brief conclusion. Though spare in words, their exchange left a boundless lingering resonance.

Komuro, disguising his tumultuous emotions with action, stood and bid farewell.

“Regard this as both a gift from the day I met you and an item I have carried without cease day and night—a memento of today.” Komuro had swiftly placed by the hearth a Shidare-patterned banner sash of exquisitely figured silk. Tekona stood flustered. Because it was all too sudden, she could not immediately discern right from wrong. If I were to accept this and let it end here, would it not amount to having already given my consent? I had resolved to consult my parents earnestly, yet... my confusion over what course to take came belatedly.

By the time she noticed the sound of his long sword’s pommel striking the ground, Komuro was already astride a galloping horse.

Attached to the obi sash were two poems. Our meetings are but a jeweled cord’s span—brief and frail— If only the tide that comes morning and evening to Mama Inlet in Katsushika were to surge forth—would that it did.

Three

When Komuro had departed and the sound of hooves could no longer be heard, Tekona’s house returned to its original silent stillness. However, the agitation in Tekona’s chest showed no signs of abating. Tekona felt as though all of heaven and earth had fallen utterly still, with only her own breast churning in tumult. Tekona, like one who had nearly lost consciousness, watched Komuro’s retreating figure and then, devoid of any awareness, vacantly returned to the earthen floor. Even after entering the earthen floor, she remained standing there without awareness. A feeling somehow joyous yet uneasy, vaguely sinister yet so achingly nostalgic it made her whole body tremble—a sensation utterly untethered, as if her feet weren’t touching the earth, as if her very flesh seemed to float. Not even the germ of a thought about what to do had yet arisen within her.

Of course, countless times had thoughts like dreams concerning Komuro come and gone within Tekona’s breast—but since she had never anticipated such a sudden strike, like a thunderclap or some such thing, the helplessness of a maiden’s heart left her only flustered and agitated, unable to utter a single word of considered reason. When she had faced him directly, the very notion of reasoned thought had been beyond conception—but now, left alone and finding her mind gradually settling, a sense of dissatisfaction arose within her, an inexplicable feeling of lingering regret over how inadequately she had expressed herself in that moment.

When the awareness that she must discuss today’s events with both her parents and brother began pressing upon her, she became conscious of how fiercely her face burned—and then, an indescribably pleasant sensation welled up in sporadic surges within her chest. Across Tekona’s eyes and lips, a faint ripple of a smile seemed to stir. Tekona sat down on the veranda with a sudden thud so abrupt it startled even herself. And then she took the obi sash in her hands and looked at it. She gazed intently at the beautiful Shidare-patterned obi sash. She reread those poems over and over again. Looking at the obi sash, looking at the poems, looking at the poems, looking at the obi sash—even within her helpless, beloved heart, she felt an acute problem regarding her fate drawing near. What should I do… Of course I must consult my parents and brother… What will become of me? Though Tekona, her mind now drifting to matters of social status, could not help feeling some measure of confusion and unease, her limbs moved lightly with the sensation of having newly touched a glimmer of light.

Tekona began tidying the unhulled rice, but with her thoughts still tracing the lingering fascination of what had just transpired, her heart remained entirely fixed upon Komuro. The tightened timbre of his voice, his composed features, the crispness of his entire bearing, the refreshing craftsmanship of his long sword, the prancing vigor of his young horse—all these mirrored Komuro’s character perfectly. During their conversation, none of it had registered clearly in her mind, yet now, alone with her thoughts, even the mole beneath his earlobe stood out vividly in her memory as part of his likeness. Then she recalled how her cousin Tanno and Tatsuo of Morishita had shown her kindness in every way possible. Tanno, being a man of few words and gentle nature, never spoke of it outright, but when a small fire broke out at Tekona’s house, he threw himself into the task as though staking his very life. When Tekona expressed gratitude saying "Our house was truly saved thanks to you," the expression of Tanno—who had responded "For your sake, what life wouldn’t I..."—was nevertheless engraved in Tekona’s heart. As for Tatsuo, he was by no means someone she disliked. The magnificence of his posture on horseback was truly unparalleled—so much so that none who encountered him could help but turn and look. As for his conduct toward Tekona, there was not the slightest hint of unpleasantness—not even a rabbit’s hair’s breadth. The words spoken to her—"Even a single encounter with you on the road would bring a hundred days of joy, yet I harbor no presumptuous thoughts of making one such as you my own"—also remained vividly etched in Tekona’s memory.

Even now, as Tekona’s heart leaned almost entirely toward Komuro, she found herself unable to cease recalling Tanno and Tatsuo. In this world, what joy could compare to being sincerely cherished by another? Moreover, as a woman positioned passively in society, there could be no reason for displeasure in being cherished by men. Tekona firmly believed that the bonds of her fate were determined by divine will; thus, she harbored not the slightest inclination to choose a man according to her own whims. Therefore, even toward Tanno and Tatsuo’s deep kindness, she felt profound sympathy. If there existed a destined bond with either of the two men and a moment arrived that she believed to be divine will, Tekona would not refuse to follow it. If her body could be divided, Tekona would surely wish to apportion herself to both Tatsuo and Tanno. Thus now, whenever she thought of Komuro, she would also recall those two men, and she felt ashamed at having come to neglect the old upon gaining the new. This sense of compassionate distress was something she simply could not dispel.

Two men without status, Komuro with status—such comparisons held no bearing on Tekona’s love. Tekona’s heart was as beautiful as her face. Such a base heart held not a speck of existence within Tekona. The greater Tekona’s inclination toward Komuro was because Komuro possessed in greater measure the conditions that ought to satisfy her. So then, did Tekona intend to follow Komuro without a second thought? That was by no means the case. Matters of fate depended on divine will; as for the relationship between Komuro and myself, having passed through many trials from this point onward...how would it turn out? Tekona simply remained thinking this way.

While Tekona’s thoughts churned through countless considerations, she tidied away 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 twilight settled over the eastern sky, and above the hazel tree, the fifth-day moon of early winter came into view. Father and Elder Brother returned shouldering hoes and leading horses, and the elder brother’s beloved horse could be heard snorting. Mother, who had gone on an errand to relatives, seemed to have returned as well; there were voices of people near the nandina hedge. Tekona, now belatedly noticing that dinner preparations were running late without going out to the voices at the gate, hurriedly set about the kitchen work. Father and Elder Brother both nodded in agreement at the state of the gate area trampled by hooves, while Mother took note of how deeply the hoofprints extended within the enclosure. The three of them noticed it, yet none gave voice to it. “The weather’s grand… Getting cold, I tell ya…” they chattered in high-pitched voices as they entered the earthen floor. They set down their hoes with a thud. “Tekona dear? Tekona dear?” “Haven’t you lit the lamp? It’s dark in here,” came Mother’s voice. Each attended to their respective evening tasks. The small house suddenly became lively. Elder Brother put the horse into the rear stable and prepared fodder. Mother, Elder Brother, Father, and Tekona—they exchanged warm, pleasant conversation in the dimness, and to any outsider’s eye, it would suggest that happiness surely dwelled in this household’s future.

IV

After the evening meal was finished, the four family members gathered around the short lamp by the hearth. "If this fair weather keeps up," said Elder Brother, "autumn's been smooth sailing. Rare as hen's teeth to get such fine days this year! An autumn like this'd sweeten any hardship." To this Father replied: "The rough autumn work's all settled now—wheat sowing done today too. Come tomorrow, the womenfolk'll be at their looms proper." "Speakin' o' looms now—Tekona dear—that cotton's comin' up grand-like. Best go see them fields tomorrow, eh? Snow-white bolls ripe as mornin' dew..." Uncharacteristically, Elder Brother kept talking. Elder Brother and Father seemed to have forgotten whatever thoughts about Tekona had briefly occupied them at dusk. Even Mother—usually so quick with words—sat distracted, her mind elsewhere during their talk. Tekona's thoughts raced solely with today's events. Waiting for the right moment to broach the matter left her disengaged from Father and Brother's conversation. Her heart's restless turmoil refused to settle.

Elder Brother resembled Father in being somewhat stocky—a quiet youth of few words in daily life, never flustered, always composed.

Tekona—from her appearance to her voice—possessed a distinct clarity: a gentle yet sharply perceptive nature with a nervous edge that closely resembled her mother’s. In essence, Tekona was her mother’s qualities refined to perfection. Moreover, there existed a reason why a beauty such as Tekona had been born into this household—it was no mere accident. Tekona’s maternal great-grandfather, a man by the name of Mononobe Oyuu, was a figure of great renown in Katsushika; summoned once to a mounted archery event at the manor, he achieved unparalleled acclaim. As his reward—by the lord’s arrangement—he wed a mutually beloved beauty, their union drawing the envy of the entire province upon them both. Tekona’s mother was the granddaughter of that prestigious family. The fact that Tekona’s mother had married from that prestigious family into the small household of Ashibito (Tekona’s father) could not be fully explained by the mere two characters for “mutual affection”—but it was precisely from such circumstances that the strong-willed Tekona’s mother harbored a fervent hope: to somehow elevate her two children to honor. Her daily prayers before the household shrine were indeed as unchanging as if ten years were but a single day. Be that as it may, Elder Brother Shōsai (Tekona’s brother) appeared at first glance to be a quiet, good-natured person; yet when it came to martial arts, he yielded to no one easily—and under no circumstances would he ever part with his beloved horse. If a summons from the manor were to come one morning, he would leap into fire or water—such was his resolute determination, unshakable as steel.

Tekona’s mother had unexpectedly heard talk through others’ gossip today—something that might mark the beginning of her daughter’s social advancement—and in her joy hurried back home, only to find signs suggesting Lord Komuro had visited at dusk; even for her normally thoughtful nature, her thoughts became hopelessly tangled, leaving her somewhat perplexed. In any case, after hearing what lay in Tekona’s heart, she had waited for all four family members to gather. Yet when Ashibito and Shōsai began their usual artless chatter, she found it unbearably vexing. However, since neither Mother nor his younger sister engaged with him at all, Shōsai soon exhausted his topics of conversation.

Noticing her mother’s demeanor, Tekona slowly placed his sash and poem before her parents and siblings, then narrated the day’s events without omission. She also explained that the obi sash had been left without any chance for consideration, and thus it was not something she had knowingly accepted. The shame of speaking of my own love from my own lips—Tekona’s face burned like fire. If one considers that this matter concerns Komuro, who is no ordinary person, it stands to reason that she could not keep it confined to her own heart. Though this expressed her intention to rely on the arrangements of her parents and siblings, if one discerns Tekona’s innermost heart, it could also be seen as simply seeking their approval. Indeed, Tekona’s heart was not something cold, as if to say it mattered not either way. When I think of Tatsuo and Tanno as well, it is not my wish to idly make others entertain feelings. That one must have the discernment to settle oneself in a suitable place—this would be the natural thought of any thoughtful woman. Tekona would never go so far as to say such things, yet that was the natural course events should take.

Father and Elder Brother spoke in unison: “To you, Tekona—fortunate one—status, character, and sincerity… Where could there be any complaint? What room is there for hesitation? We should promptly send our reply…” Shōsai read the poem again and grew ever more deeply moved. Father continued extolling Komuro’s character with utmost fervor—calling him a thoughtful lord who even considered the whims of commoners—and declared that this turn of events was wholly due to the gods’ design, wiping away tears of joy in a manner none could fault.

Mother, having listened to everyone’s words, seemed increasingly at a loss and still did not utter a single word. Ashibito, Shōsai, and Tekona all fixed their eyes in anticipation of the words Mother was about to speak—and once they had settled into their seats, Mother at last broke the silence. When she began to explain the gist of it,

Mother had heard something unexpected today from her brother in her hometown. Lord Shinobu, heir to the regional lord of Hioki in this province, had on several occasions glimpsed Tekona—and contrary to his habitually reserved nature, he had become so enamored that he lost all sense of propriety. Layer upon layer of longing had piled within him until he could no longer endure it in silence; now he confessed these feelings to an elderly maidservant who served nearby. Now, given that Lord Komuro had even been heard in rumors to be sighing increasingly of late, it was said that before long, some envoy from the manor would likely appear. “If Lord Shinobu’s intentions are indeed as such,” Mother declared without hesitation, “there could be no greater happiness than this.” “Not only would this secure our family’s advancement,” she repeated, “but even as a single stalwart, Lord Shinobu surpasses Lord Komuro.” “Even Elder Brother and Father—if our lord’s heir makes such a request, there is no reason they would disagree.” “If an envoy from the manor were to come as soon as tomorrow—” these were the words the three of them had declared in unison. Given that there was currently no way to reach any definitive resolution—and until they ascertained what kind of proposal the envoy from the manor would make—they could not issue any formal response to Komuro’s side. Thus the discussion reached a pause for the time being.

Afterward, just as the three had agreed, they gazed at Tekona in unison, sighing at what a divinely blessed child she was and marveling at this story-like reality’s strangeness. By his simple nature, Shōsai had always regarded the Young Lord as godlike; now hearing his own sister was that Young Lord’s beloved, he declared this no ordinary matter. Ashibito conceded that Lord Komuro would be an excessive blessing as Tekona’s husband—yet compared to our lord Shinobu, Lord Komuro remained inevitably a step below, for Shinobu’s magnanimity in all things marked one born to lordship despite his youth. Mother’s praise of Shinobu reached meticulous extremes. He was no mere magnanimous young lord. Whether mounted or wielding bow and arrow, in scholarship or character—possessing both martial prowess and affection—even in bearing he surpassed Lord Komuro.

Tekona could find no way to interject in the three’s discussion; she kept her eyes downcast and remained silent. Of course, Tekona herself harbored not the slightest aversion to Shinobu as a person; rather, the preciousness of being regarded by the Young Lord of the domain was inexpressibly delightful. When she thought that such an eminent person as the Young Lord held her in such regard, how could her grateful heart not be delighted? However, the feelings she had once stirred for Komuro—even if Shinobu, who appeared afterward, were ten times superior—the notion of Komuro could not easily vanish from Tekona’s heart. Moreover, given Tekona’s nature—which appeared as the very embodiment of compassion—this was all the more true.

Having first developed feelings for Komuro and later felt emotional pain toward Tanno and Tatsuo, Tekona now felt even greater anguish for Komuro’s sake. If I were to enter Lord Shinobu’s service, though blessed beyond measure... how profound would Lord Komuro’s disappointment and resentment be—he who had been praised so ardently? Though I had not voiced the affection I felt then, my heart had truly reached him. And so when what he had returned to with such eager anticipation vanished like a fleeting illusion—how deep must that man’s regret have been? Yet how could she, having maintained her virtue toward him who remained unbetrothed, reject the Young Lord’s devoted affection—one so gracious and sincere?... This was the torment now before Tekona, beautiful in lineage and spirit.

In contrast to her father, mother, and brother rejoicing without reservation, Tekona sank ever deeper into contemplation. Tekona had now completely forgotten herself. A lowly woman had even forgotten the blessed position of being cherished by the Young Lord of the domain as she remained lost in thought. Tekona began to realize her own happiness was fading precisely because she was too deeply cherished by others. A sensation came over her that even the hope of dwelling in carefree, noble joy—if only in spirit—was slipping away. Even if Tanno and Tatsuo were beyond help, how could she alone take pleasure in this flawless match while plunging even Lord Komuro into despair?

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’s dawn. Tekona’s anguish was no mere weighing of loss against gain. Nor was it a struggle between good and evil. This was no ordinary choice between one path and another. Her suffering did not stem from failing to meet social duties. Rather, she wandered lost in the impossibility of attaining emotional fulfillment. Now Tekona found herself despising her own wretchedness. “If only I were loved by just one—be it Komuro or Shinobu… Ah, what joy that would bring!” she lamented.

This matter was of great importance to their family. Kinsfolk were constrained by such intellectual considerations. To the three, who remained utterly detached bystanders in matters of emotion, there was simply no way to discern the inner anguish tormenting Tekona.

Sure enough, Mother fixed a suspicious gaze upon Tekona’s unhappy countenance.

“Tekona—did you make some promise with Lord Komuro?”…Then she pressed further: “If that be so, why show no joy at being cherished by our lord’s heir?” It was concern fitting a parent. All the more startling then—this hesitation from Tekona’s ambition-filled mother at seeing her daughter’s reluctance. Mother even called out to Ashibito and Shōsai, admonishing them—for this being a grave matter—not to misconstrue things……

Tekona— She lamented that though there was a difference in status between the lord and others—in truth neither was lesser nor greater—to turn away from either would weigh heavy on her heart; now she wished only to remain alone. Mother angrily scolded this child. Father calmly said, “That is my heart’s intention—consider your parents’ hopes.” “Consider the lord’s benevolence and the Young Lord’s true feelings,” he said. Shōsai sighed repeatedly while keenly sensing his younger sister’s anguish; seeming on the verge of speaking himself yet yielding precedence to others’ words. Though Mother’s expression remained clouded with concern—since they did not doubt that ever-truthful Tekona had made no promises to Komuro—they resolved that so long as this held true there must be some way to manage matters.

Shōsai attended to his beloved horse’s night feeding and, on his return, gathered stored chestnuts and persimmons; the suddenly transformed household’s joyous scene spilled over with laughter and commotion that made the neighbors envious.

Five

The frost this morning was fierce. The deeply clear navy-blue sky rendered the refreshing morning scenery even more sacred. As one watched, the morning sun came shining through the treetops of the forest behind the house. Its reflection brightened the narrow wellside. In a small thicket about six feet west of the well, a bunting chirped tsee-tsee. On the small shelf by the washing area, a rice-washing basket, rice-washing bucket, washing bucket, and such lay cleanly washed and upturned. The carrots and daikon radishes placed with their leaves still attached were also beautiful. Everything around was immaculately clean, and Tekona’s refined daily bearing was well manifested here. Intermingled with the northern grove, persimmon leaves and ivy leaves still retained a mass of color, adding vital detail to the early winter’s painted scroll. When had it come? A wagtail was there on the raised earth by the washing area, flicking its tail. A profound stillness deepened into yet deeper stillness.

From the direction of the kitchen came a little song like small bells chiming. Soon Tekona emerged at the wellside holding several utensils. As she set down a pottery vessel containing a washing bucket and reached for the well-rope, she peered into its depths and cried out: “Oh! The autumn leaves—” The well’s water lay shallow beneath them. Two or three large persimmon leaves floated on its surface. Though Tekona gazed at these crimson offerings, any observer would have found themselves captivated instead by her face reflected in that liquid mirror—the strands of her coiled hair and artless bangs forming an arrangement of indescribable grace. Her countenance this bright morning showed little trace of yesterday’s cares; one might think she had nearly forgotten both last night’s discussions and all preceding turmoil alike. Had she truly entrusted everything to divine will? Or was this simply how women of her age comported themselves? Like one who finds unexpected calm after plunging into fearsome seas, perhaps Tekona—now fully immersed in unfolding events—had made her peace; absently contemplating those floating leaves while humming a plaintive tune.

After pounding rice, these hands of mine hang weary— Tonight as well— The lord’s young son takes and laments—

Upon looking, Tekona was not so enraptured by the autumn leaves, nor did she attempt to draw water; instead, she kept singing the same song over and over. That voice was by no means a carefree one. Was Tekona indeed tormented deep within her heart? A beauty harmonized with any circumstance. Tekona harmonized well both as mistress of the thatched cottage and as mistress of the wellside. If Tekona were made mistress, there would be light in both the thatched cottage and at the wellside. And were she to become mistress of the lord’s residence, she would bring forth light in the lord’s residence; were she to become mistress of the imperial court, she who would bring forth light in the imperial court would surely be Tekona.

“What’s so amusing, eh?”…It was Mana, Tatsuo’s sister, who called out so spiritedly as she ran up to Tekona. The two exchanged brief smiles and peered into the well together. “Oh, what beautiful autumn leaves!” Mana exclaimed. “So Tekona is the pearl and Mana the agate?” Their jewel-like faces must have been reflected in the water. Though called agate, it was no common gem. Compared to a pearl, it might indeed pale.

Nothing in this world was more enviable than the circumstances of young companions who neither stated their purpose in coming nor asked why the other had come. Before long, Mana drew water for her. Tekona did the washing. Meanwhile, Mana spoke of having heard a rumor that there would be a grand horse competition at the manor this month, that her brother Tatsuo had begun tending to the horses since that morning, and that she had come to tell Shōsai as much. When the washing was finished, the two lined up side by side once more and entered the kitchen.

Since this autumn, Mana had been coming to Tekona’s house with one excuse or another. Now, Tekona and Mana were the closest of friends, but there lay a curious dual reason for this. Initially, Tatsuo had devised a plan to somehow gain entry to Tekona’s house by using his sister as a bridge; however, through her frequent visits to this household, Mana instead came to secretly develop feelings for Shōsai. The character of Tekona, whom her brother loved, was something that Mana herself, even as a woman, found deeply admirable. That Mana finally came to harbor feelings for Tekona’s brother was a development with the most natural of motives.

There was no doubt Mana had sufficiently fulfilled her duty toward her brother, but his objective had nearly ended in disappointment. Though Mana secretly sympathized with her brother’s disappointment, she had not yet reached the point of abandoning her own feelings because of it. Nowadays, when Mana came to this house, she even made preparations in front of her brother. Mana would help Shōsai with his work whenever she had a pretext. When Shōsai assigned work to Tekona, Mana would invariably join in doing it together. Shōsai was an awkward man who approached everything in a roundabout manner; Mana, unable to bear watching, would say things like “Do it this way” or “Do it that way,” only to be frequently scolded by Shōsai. There were times when he would say things like “What’s with this little wretch?”—rather joyless scoldings. At other times, he would unceremoniously order Mana about with almost no distinction from Tekona.

Like her brother Tatsuo, Mana was extremely spirited, yet every harsh word Shōsai threw her way seemed to delight her all the same. Of course, nothing Shōsai did carried malice—if anything, this very artlessness made him all the more endearing in Mana’s eyes. Tekona naturally noticed Mana’s demeanor, as did their parents—all thoroughly aware—yet the honorable Shōsai himself remained utterly oblivious. Whenever Shōsai spoke with his characteristic guileless candor, the three would exchange knowing smiles behind their sleeves. But where Tatsuo’s love now foundered beyond hope, Mana’s aspirations neared fulfillment. Tekona’s parents favored Mana’s temperament greatly. Particularly telling was how they took evident pleasure in this budding affection directed toward Shōsai. Moreover, Shōsai wasn’t one to cling to personal preferences should his parents voice approval. Thus were matters ordered—once auspicious tidings graced Tekona’s fate, Mana’s betrothal would follow as night follows day.

Mana was one year younger than Tekona, still just seventeen years old, but with her characteristic boldness, she never fell short compared to her friends no matter what she was tasked with. Therefore, her feelings toward men were strangely contrary to that temperament. She detested men who spoke slick, practiced words to her or adopted tones meant to please women. Though she’d say “Disgusting for a man to act like that,” it was always Mana’s catchphrase to dismiss such men outright as lecherous creeps.

Laughed at by his parents and younger sister for not comprehending such things, Shōsai was truly a man devoid of any unpleasantness—simple and unassuming. Mana thought this. Shōsai, who did not grumble over trivial matters, was incapable of conspicuous kindness; yet he was also a man utterly devoid of that ill-intentioned tendency to obstinately impose his affections until they brought others to tears. Though she loathed even speaking to clingy men, if it were Shōsai, she’d want to see even if he struck her…

Mana seemed to be of a nature that inclined her more toward loving others herself than being loved by them.

Six

The reason Mana had come to Tekona’s house this morning was twofold: to inform Shōsai as soon as possible about the horse competition at the lord’s manor and to convey to Tekona’s mother the rumor that Lord Shinobu was deeply infatuated with Tekona. Upon speaking of it, she learned that the matter had already been discussed last night. Here Mana found herself considering her brother Tatsuo’s circumstances but concluded there was nothing more to be done now that Tekona’s situation had reached this point. Though she felt pity for her brother Tatsuo, she realized that Tekona’s family’s happiness would soon become her own happiness too—her heart leapt unbidden at this knowledge. When Shōsai heard about the horse competition again and showed such delight over it, Mana grew happier still. Whenever she saw Shōsai rejoice like this—each time her heart swelled tenfold with matching gladness—today found her feet scarcely touching ground. Yet what struck Mana most unexpectedly was how utterly composed Tekona appeared today.

Her own grave matter meant the family’s supreme happiness. Despite the happiness envied by all now looming before her, Tekona’s composure. Mana could not help but find it strange. To Mana—wasting away from the hardships of unrequited love—Tekona’s calm demeanor today appeared hateful.

The two sitting side by side on the raised edge of the kitchen soon found Mana—who had tried imagining herself as one beloved by others even for a moment—thinking: *Without a shred of consideration for those wasting away in unrequited love... Amidst all these people, you—favored by the manor lord himself, might even receive his envoy today—how hateful that composure of yours is...* And so Mana waited, expectant of Tekona’s reply.

Tekona’s composed smile remained one that stirred no emotion in her breast. The one who said “Think of me” had no thought for others. Between those who were loved and those who loved—unless they exchanged places and saw through each other’s eyes—it was difficult to hastily judge which might be the happier lot. The one I loved might be fixed as a single person of my choosing, but I could not fix those who loved me to a single person by my will. Though she held no resentment toward any, a single body could not yield to many. The one I loved was but a single person, and I envied those who could devote their true feelings to that one alone…….

Tekona, having gathered all her thoughts, seemed to envy from her circumstances—where she could only follow the course of events—the innocent peace of mind in Mana’s love. Mana was astonished by Tekona’s romantic words—Tekona who measured nothing by worldly glory. For a time, she could do nothing but stare fixedly at Tekona’s face. Tekona—so cherished by two lords that she might truly be called thus—proved indeed a person of such lofty dignity that Mana suddenly felt genuine reverence well up within her heart, realizing the error of forever considering her merely a friend.

Though Tekona was by no means cold by nature, she was cherished by A yet had not encountered the opportunity to yield to him, and moreover was loved by B. Before she could settle on yielding to either A or B, she was cherished by C and loved by D. As though no emotion or duty compelling her to yield to the former had yet arisen, so too did no emotion or duty exist that would absolutely require her to yield to the latter. In short, while Tekona’s own hopes remained undecided, she came to be cherished by many; thus she lost the circumstances to settle herself according to her own wishes and became one who could only entrust her fate to the hopes of others. That Tekona had entrusted her entire fate to divine will and detached herself from all attachment with transcendent resolve was but the natural course of events. She was not deliberately feigning composure. Whatever may come will come to pass—this being Tekona’s present state of mind, her composure was only natural.

Though Tekona’s love for Komuro was not yet so unshakably strong as to be immovable, given that Shinobu—as the lord’s heir, the fervent hope of kin and clan, and in his very character—offered Tekona not a single aspect that might stir distasteful feelings, her yielding to Shinobu became but another natural decree: what men call divine will.

However, Tekona’s compliance with Shinobu stemmed more from yielding to the force of reason than being swayed by emotion. Thus, it was not that she fulfilled her own love, but rather submitted to another’s. If one were to judge by Tekona’s emotions alone, then it was indeed unavoidable. If the painful emotions of abandoning Komuro did not easily fade, and there existed a sense that yielding anew to Shinobu was unavoidable, then Tekona was no victor in love. Though the proverb speaking of beauties and ill-fated lives differs slightly in meaning, the fact that a beauty is cherished by many people formed, in the truest sense, the cause of her ill-fated destiny. Tekona was succeeding in love’s outward form while approaching circumstances where she felt ill-fated in spirit. Had Tekona been keenly attuned to profit and loss—clinging to what people call honor and happiness—it would have been natural for her to rejoice at replacing Komuro with Shinobu at this juncture. Yet Tekona’s nature, which sought satisfaction only in beautiful emotions, remained cold toward her still purely intellectual bond with Shinobu while aching from the destruction of her far more emotional connection with Komuro. That Tekona could unwittingly voice something akin to envying Mana’s unrequited love was perhaps an unavoidable outcome.

In Mana's heart—unaccustomed to complexity—she couldn't fully grasp the meaning behind Tekona's words that spoke of seemingly composed anguish. All she could manage was a curt "What's the use of saying such things?" leaving her at a loss for how to comfort Tekona. The conversation ended there, and soon the two went up to the sitting room.

In the inner small sitting room, the three family members were still deeply engrossed in discussing Tekona’s future. The mother, having already spotted Tekona, beckoned her. In her heart, she said that even Mana—who could not be considered a stranger—should join this discussion. Amidst the five gathered, the mother related her concerns regarding Tekona’s demeanor and bearing. It would be troublesome if Tekona’s heart remained unsettled when an envoy from the manor might arrive even today. She reiterated that truly, the rise and fall of their household—the fate of all four family members—rested solely on Tekona’s resolve; thus, there must be absolutely no misunderstanding.

Though her emotions might have been unsettled, Tekona—whose rationality held no uncertainty—remained as composed as ever amidst the others wringing their hands in anxiety. Tekona’s resolve stood firmly settled. Since no one else was involved to such an extent that she needed to refuse even the lord’s heir’s ardent desire, there naturally existed no reason to oppose her parents’ wishes—thus what had seemed like today’s fraught discussion proved not difficult at all. While her father and brother showed less intensity, her mother devoted her entire being to the discussion; yet Tekona resolved matters with such effortless composure and spoke in a manner that gave her family no cause for concern, leaving her mother rather taken aback—though regardless, all present bore expressions of relief as if a great burden had been lifted. Though Mother still seemed to cast a somewhat doubtful gaze toward Tekona, this too would prove fleeting—for the mother who had always prided herself on her child now reconsidered that Tekona’s calm demeanor even upon hearing the Young Lord’s earnest entreaty must stem wholly from her discernment, appearing newly amazed at her own daughter’s dignity.

Tekona’s inner emotional state ultimately remained beyond anyone’s comprehension. Even within Tekona’s own heart, she likely did not truly comprehend it. In this situation, Tekona was not maintaining her composure through any conscious effort. She naturally became composed without any particular reason; this was, of course, neither discernment nor dignity.

Tekona was merely pure and beautiful—a woman of utmost purity, not one to harbor affectations, ambitions, schemes, or desires unbefitting her station. Because such inner virtues manifested in her appearance, she moved people with an indescribable kind of power. Not only her appearance—every single gesture and movement of Tekona exuded refined taste. There was no one who, having once seen Tekona—regardless of whether she herself desired anything at all—did not feel compelled to fulfill every one of her hopes. Moreover, when one was entreated by Tekona for anything at all, it was thought there could scarcely exist a soul in all creation capable of refusing her. In front of Tekona, even any demon became a child—so it had been said. Indeed, there was no regret in having revealed these recent truths.

Just as fragrance and light drift through the air where a famed flower blooms, joy never parts from where Tekona dwells. Tekona herself did not understand why she held so little attachment to worldly glory. She was cherished by Komuro and loved by Shinobu—not that she felt no happiness whatsoever. Yet this differed from the rational joy others imagined, existing purely within the emotional realm. This nuance eluded even her parents and siblings: while Komuro and Tekona's bond flowed through feeling, Shinobu and Tekona's connection still clung to reason's domain. The roots of Tekona's composure in this moment had gradually become discernible.

7

On this day, as anticipated, the elderly woman from the Hioke household entered through the hazel tree gate. The elderly woman remained standing in the garden and first had her attendant announce her purpose as a private envoy from Young Lord Shinobu. The Ashibito couple ran out as if tumbling over themselves and respectfully welcomed the envoy. The elderly woman also bowed deferentially with utmost sincerity, appearing almost as an envoy bearing the lord’s command. Even at a glance of the elderly woman’s demeanor, it became clear how deeply Shinobu was enamored with Tekona.

The elderly woman slowly clarified that she was not an official envoy from the Great Lord but a private envoy from the Young Lord, and at last began to speak of her purpose. With meticulous care given even to the order of her words—to where Shinobu’s painstaking efforts to convey every last shred of his feelings became evident—she explained matters to the Ashibito couple. The couple could only weep in gratitude at such gracious words and divinely bestowed favor that surpassed their worth. "I first began to feel it when cuckoos sang among fresh leaves—on our tutelary shrine’s festival day," she relayed on his behalf. "Since then, this lump settled in my chest—not one dawn has passed without torment." "On dewy nights beneath waning moons," she continued, "I disguised myself among hunting parties, lingered ten times beyond hedgerows, yet never glimpsed my beloved’s shadow." "Bound by my station as lord, praying fruitlessly for divine signs, I could only beg fortune’s favor— until Komuro’s rumors spread like wildfire." "Now even this warrior’s resolve crumbles like earth from an earthquake-shattered cliff: by what means might such collapse be stayed?" "If ever I hear Tekona has become another’s wife, let my life end that very day." "Yet know this—Shinobu being a warrior’s son, he’d never seize hearts through brute authority." "If Tekona had pledged herself to Komuro ere my suit, by heaven’s oath I’d raise no hand against it." "Though love’s grief may claim my life, my prayers for her joy remain unshaken." "If you’d weigh true feeling over birthright, I implore you—reveal my heart’s naked depths…"

The elderly woman finished speaking with a trembling voice. Attached to a set of seasonal garments was the customary poetic missive. Tekona appended her sincere reply. Ashibito, perhaps overwhelmed with emotion, found his words coming out disordered. He swore an oath to the gods of heaven and earth and declared that Tekona harbored no disloyalty. Considering the Young Lord’s sincerity—that not even a speck of dust on a rabbit’s fur should remain concealed—he had his wife relate in detail the nature of Komuro and Tekona’s relationship. There, Tekona also came forth and clarified her parents’ words as fact.

The elderly woman’s joy was as though parched grass had met with rain; her eyes cleared and her voice grew refreshed—a perfectly natural outcome. The elderly woman reaffirmed their agreement in this manner. First, regarding Komuro’s side, they were instructed to refuse the matter skillfully and make arrangements aimed at leaving no lingering resentment. As for this side, Lord Shinobu—declaring that if he secured first place in the upcoming horse competition, his wish for a reward would be granted per the Great Lord’s decree—resolved to seize victory on that day without fail and thereby obtain approval regarding Tekona. When it was remarked how one born of a prestigious house comported himself with distinction in all matters, Shōsai—who had been listening—edged forward with an impatient expression and declared, “Tekona’s brother too has striven earnestly to secure a place among the rewarded in this horse competition; pray convey this to the Young Lord.” The family’s joy was such that though they tried to contain it, it spilled over uncontrollably. The elderly woman also hastened to report the proceedings to the Young Lord as swiftly as possible, and the Young Lord—eager to witness their expressions of joy—took his leave.

With matters thus settled, Tekona’s mother went without saying, but Ashibito and Shōsai too all at once became invigorated, their buoyant mood causing a clamorous liveliness to overflow within the small house.

While the three family members still lingered in their buoyant mood, Tekona alone was already nursing an aching heart. Lord Komuro—whom she had once not disliked—if only her thoughts could reach him naturally... What answer could she possibly give to that lord who had parted from her filled with joyful anticipation? Even if there existed an unavoidable reason—even if reason alone could soothe these feelings—by what words should I return the obi sash? By what words should I return the poem?

Tekona found no space within herself to rejoice in her own happiness amidst the anguish of imagining Komuro’s disappointment. "No matter how I consider it," she thought inwardly with quiet desperation pressing against her ribs like river stones at low tide—"what must be said cannot remain unspoken." The day when she would have to deliver reasoned refusal unto Komuro loomed ever closer. Tekona became lost within tempestuous thoughts that stripped away all else. It was not that Tekona lacked capacity to find gladness in Shinobu’s earnestness. Rather she could not sever from her breast this sympathy for Komuro’s impending sorrow—a thread spun finer than mulberry silk yet binding as iron chains. Yet were this same Tekona—she whose virtue lay precisely in such tender constancy—to cast aside memory like autumn leaves and embrace new love like water poured upon unyielding stone... Then even men of noble bearing would find no cause for tears.

While Tekona was isolated, groaning alone, in the inner room the three family members began discussing matters concerning the Komuro household. The mother suddenly called Tekona and said, “Phrase the words to be conveyed to Lord Komuro as you see fit.” There was no one but Father to serve as the envoy. Tekona, unable to sleep through this night, composed a poem for her father to take.

Mama Inlet—unable to defy the first receding tide. The swaying jeweled seaweed offers no recourse—my lord. What use is there in voicing this futile shame? If your thoughts were to mirror mine—

Tekona had spoken clearly in her words, yet her face nevertheless showed reluctance. Even amidst their immense joy, this single matter remained as a lingering cloud over the family. Needless to say, this was known to stem from the unresolved matter between Komuro and Tekona. Now, before anything else, this matter had to be settled. The next day, it was tentatively decided that Father would go to Komuro’s residence. Tekona, with an even more pensive expression, placed last night’s poem before Father,

That I gratefully cherish your profound devotion—unchanged as yesterday’s dew remains today’s—is true, yet before matters could settle, a decree had come from the lord’s manor, forcing this unavoidable course. Those bound by masters and parents cannot claim their lives as their own—such is the way of our world—and all lies beyond mortal power, left to divine will. Though you may despise Tekona, know she never betrayed you from her heart. Deem this helpless maiden worthy only of pity… Let these words suffice; all else I entrust to Father’s discretion. For Ashibito—ordinarily taciturn—this solemn duty was truly formidable. Deeming today’s unavoidable circumstances inevitable, he set out with a resolve to give his all for his family and his child. Komuro, in the heat of his anger, might pose some unreasonable demand. Skillfully negotiating this situation to fulfill his duty without sowing resentment was no ordinary feat. Ashibito’s worries were far from trivial indeed. Ashibito, fixing his heart solely upon the gods, resolved to conceal nothing and omit nothing—to relay the full account of events and Tekona’s words, accepting whatever outcome might arise.

Even Tekona—and of course her mother and Shōsai too—were so preoccupied with Father’s duty that nothing could be accomplished that day. They did not go out to their other tasks and waited for Father’s return.

When they saw Father return spiritedly as evening drew near, the family’s joy defied words. Ashibito took one look at their faces and burst out: “Lord Komuro is a man of true worth!” “By heaven—utterly peerless! Nothing like what we’d imagined… Well, no need to belabor it—all ended favorably.” With this cobbled-together conclusion to his tale, he stepped inside.

Ashibito had gone to the Komuro household harboring some hostility in his heart; however, upon receiving extremely courteous treatment and hearing an unexpected greeting from Komuro, he found himself completely won over. Lord Komuro indeed did not fall short compared to the Young Lord. Though it could not be helped now, had circumstances been different, he would have entrusted her to Lord Komuro—who would have settled matters even a day sooner. He had even come to think that Tekona’s vague hesitation was not without reason. He had indeed considered that he could not voice such thoughts in Tekona’s presence. An upright person often cannot speak tactfully—and for Ashibito, who lacked hidden depths, it was utterly impossible to moderate his words. Having genuinely sympathized with Komuro from the depths of his heart, Ashibito ultimately ended up praising him exactly as he had intended.

According to Ashibito’s account. Komuro’s spirit was truly noble. His demeanor was thoroughly manly, and with a truly heartfelt manner of greeting, Ashibito could not help but wipe away tears. Komuro, after hearing the entire situation in detail from Ashibito, looked at Tekona’s poem. For a time, he remained in silent contemplation, his eyes never left the poem. Before he knew it, even his complexion had changed, and he heaved a sigh as deep as eight or ten feet. Finally regaining his composure, from trembling lips he let slip a single word: “My fate was ill-fated.”

In a world where some die and others are made to die, can one possibly resign oneself? Even were I to resign myself, after resigning I would find only this body of Komuro writhing in vain. If it were merely that joy had ended, people could still endure life. If lamentations of grief persist in all that is seen and heard, by what means shall I sustain my life? Komuro without Tekona is a flower of parched vegetation—let their hues and fragrances fade with today...

Ashibito—no mere tree or stone—must refrain from weeping even were he inclined to do so. Komuro continued his address. Tekona declares unavoidable circumstances, yet there appears no alteration within this heart of mine. If I do not resolve to abandon hope from the outset, there remains no means to abandon it. If Tekona does not come to me—is it that her heart is not true? If her not coming to me is due to worldly obstacles, then as long as this life of mine does not end, I shall await the day Tekona comes. Since I harbor not even a dewdrop of hatred toward Lord Shinobu, toward whom should resentment linger? Tekona’s sincerity, people’s consolation—all in all, a joyful delight—I pray for Tekona’s enduring happiness in the days to come. Henceforth, as I remain here, allow me to love Tekona as my heart desires. If a love that one strives to abandon could indeed be abandoned, then from the very beginning it would never have passed the lips of a true warrior who girds a long sword. Both the obi and the poem shall be presented anew to Tekona’s mother. If only Tekona could remain by my side—this would be a jeweled cord of lasting solace.

His words had the force to cleave iron and stone, yet even he could not fully conceal his defeated countenance. There was no reason anyone could not sympathize with Komuro’s love. Even the ambitious mother fell silent for a time, her countenance betraying sympathy. It went without saying that this added yet another layer of anguish to Tekona’s heart. As if by prior agreement, the three murmured how pitiable it truly was—yet an unavoidable matter. While speaking thus, they managed to slightly dispel the gloomy air. Particularly Mother—as if suddenly realizing—began weaving all manner of cheerful conversation to lift Tekona’s spirits. Then she assigned Tekona a cheerful task. Of course, she herself would work alongside her.

Eight

The early dawn of the fifteenth day of the tenth lunar month. The waning moon still retained the night’s radiance, its pale shadow tilting toward the vast distant fields of Musashino. The light of a half-dozen stars could still be counted. The high-tide inlet’s silver waves began at last to subside. Mist-like steam enveloped the groves across the entire village—the natural scene utterly still, no birds flying, no leaves stirring—yet within this tranquil world wrapped in quietude, the hamlet harbored a faintly bustling clamor. [The clamor] pressed through the village and swelled into a tumultuous din. Nearby—the snorts of horses, clatter of struck objects, patter of running footsteps—all coalesced into a single tumultuous din. The imminent surge of human activity simmered beneath dawn’s light for a time.

From Magistrate Hoki’s residence on Mama Hill—where the trees grew thick and deep—the first drum now resounded mightily through the white dew-laden sky. The reverberation that startled the forest’s echoes soon rolled across the inlet’s wave surfaces and spread through several leagues of the county beneath the dawn sky. At that very moment, the sound of hooves arose in unison throughout the county. All were galloping up toward Hoki’s residence.

By the time the waning moon had completely lost its light and dawn had broken enough to distinctly see the figures of people crossing Keibashi Bridge, over two hundred mounted warriors stood arrayed in two long rows before the gate, awaiting the second drum. When the light of the sun was discerned in the distant eastern sky at dawn, the second drum sounded. All preparations for the archery range were completed, and the knights all took their assigned positions. Young Lord Shinobu, clad in a white robe and mounted on a red horse, personally came forth to relay orders to the knights. He announced the rewards from first to twentieth place, greatly encouraging the knights, and declared his resolve to contend for supremacy as a rider himself. Though none were fools, hearing the Young Lord’s own encouragement firsthand filled each with a hundredfold resolve—their hearts’ fervor enough to pierce through solid rock. Breakfast was distributed from the residence, and once the third drum sounded, the horse archery would commence—such was the procedure.

The residence of Magistrate Hoki was a renowned old family distinguished by its abundance of towering ancient trees. If one ascends the hill directly from Mama’s Keibashi Bridge, there lies a great forest spanning a square league in area—a vast expanse where towering pines, cedars, cypresses, and camphor trees, giant specimens whose ages might number centuries for all one could tell, blanketed the sky. The cedars and cypresses alone were said to number over a hundred thousand trees, creating a lush atmosphere that evoked an air of the Age of the Gods. At its center, Hoki’s residence was constructed. Outside the gate stretched over ten *chō*, and within another ten *chō*; amidst ancient pines resembling a blue dragon dancing in the sky stood several dignified yet refreshingly neat structures—this was the residence of Hoki Mushiromaro.

Exiting the gate and proceeding a little over one chō to the right brought one to the grand horse archery range—an oval-shaped grassland stretching over ten chō from east to west. With the great forest at its back and Mama Inlet before it, the entire front area opened up to reveal the distant Musashi Sea where flocks of cranes and gulls could be seen flying. On days when the sky cleared, even the drifting smoke plume of Mount Fuji became visible. This was the horse archery range that Ōdono Mushimaro proudly claimed as the finest in Kantō; within Higashi-Katsushika district alone, there were said to be over two hundred warriors breeding prized steeds—a point of pride he found impossible to conceal.

In the eastern pine grove, the riders’ waiting quarters stood with their eaves aligned in rows. They were divided into four groups of fifty riders each, distinguished by red, yellow, blue, and green attire. Granted silk robes and wearing black-lacquered eboshi hats, they carried hilted swords at their waists while adorning their chests with jewels as they pleased—their dignified appearance drawing envious gazes from all. On the northern elevated stands backed by the forest, Ōdono sat arrayed with every clan member present—for it was said Ōdono himself would render judgments—and thus the riders’ fervor reached extraordinary heights. Through an old woman’s arrangements, Tekona appeared alongside her mother at a corner of these stands. When Tekona’s figure became visible there, not merely the two hundred knights but every spectator’s gaze converged upon her. This was not solely due to her beauty—it had become an open secret that upon this horse competition’s conclusion, she would be welcomed into the residence as Young Lord Shinobu’s beloved bride. That Tekona bore not a trace of pride, and that Shinobu comported himself as though scarcely aware of her presence, earned great acclaim among the knights. Tatsuo’s crimson robe, Tanno’s golden one, and Shōsai’s verdant garment—each harmonizing with its wearer’s disposition—captivated the crowd. Though Tatsuo and Tanno had resigned themselves to their unrequited love for Tekona—even finding confidants with whom to share their resigned feelings—the prospect of competing before her eyes at this ceremonial occasion filled them with uncommon resolve, their hearts sworn to certain victory. As for Tatsuo—whose air of determination, pledged even at life’s cost through prayers to the gods, stood starkly visible—this very quality wordlessly kindled the knights’ collective zeal, their fervor surging in a manner truly unprecedented.

In the center of the front horse ground of the elevated stands, four targets numbered one through four were erected. From the center of the horse ground, each spaced thirty *ken* apart, stood four targets numbered one through four; the first had straw dummies arranged like people, with strikes to their chest centers deemed first rank and four descending grades assigned thereafter. The second was an ordinary shield where striking the central ink dot was deemed first rank, with four grades assigned accordingly. Third were wild goose-shaped bird targets suspended by silk threads—these bore no grades. Fourth was an iron shield; striking this with an arrow was deemed a success. Should points prove equal, posture’s excellence was established as the superior criterion. With four riders per group each shooting one arrow per circuit, the horse ground would be circled four times to complete one group’s match.

The elderly magistrate in white robes astride a white horse appeared calmly at the judging grounds, and the third drum resounded. The long-awaited appointed knights—first the red-robed group, followed by yellow, blue, and green in sequence—galloped swiftly into the grounds from the left, whereupon the judging grounds immediately raised the signal flag. At the same time, the knights nocked their arrows and drew their bows. The horses leapt forth and galloped toward them. In the first round, one knight struck three of the four targets; another struck two; the rest managed to hit but a single mark each. The judging panel examined each arrow one by one and recorded their superiority or inferiority. Thus, like a waterwheel turning, they repeated ten, then twenty rounds, and by evening that day finally managed to complete fifty—a truly splendid feat.

Shinobu, true to his status as Young Lord, wore an exceptionally eye-catching twill-woven white robe and rode a splendid steed that seemed dyed crimson. He wore a gilt long sword and, wielding a richly crafted sandalwood bow, attempted single-rider archery. After one ceremonial display ride, he nocked an arrow on the second pass. On the third and fourth attempts he splendidly planted his arrows, and when on the fifth attempt his arrow struck that most formidable iron shield with a resounding clang, the multitude erupted in unified cheers of admiration.

Tekona had consented to Shinobu’s desire, yet her manner suggested it was done out of sheer inevitability. Not merely as an excuse toward Komuro—she truly seemed to believe it was unavoidable. Knowing this full well, the mother’s anxiety was no ordinary matter. Today as well, the mother did not take her eyes off Tekona’s demeanor in the slightest. When Shinobu’s arrow struck the final iron shield and the crowd erupted in cheers, even Tekona could not help but let slip a genuinely delighted smile—yet almost immediately seeming to become aware of her joy’s impropriety, she hid half her face within her sleeve. This demeanor of Tekona’s completely reassured her mother.

Even the elderly woman who had been troubled to the point of distress by considering a lowly woman as the Young Lord’s peculiar interest could no longer contain her heart leaping with joy upon seeing Tekona’s increasingly radiant appearance among the multitude today.

As soon as the final mounted archery concluded, the reward judgments were immediately announced. The proper order should have been Shinobu of Hoki first, Tatsuo of Mononobe second, Tanno of Mononobe third, and Shōsai of Mononobe fourth. However, since the elderly woman had long understood their prior verbal agreement regarding desired rewards, she declared that the Young Lord harbored a separate wish. The elderly magistrate, his face brimming with irrepressible delight, declared, “Very well! Then let Mononobe Tatsuo take first place and Mononobe Tanno second,” thus deciding the order and bringing today’s horse competition to a close in grand satisfaction. Though their love remained unrequited, for Tatsuo and Tanno to have accomplished such a splendid feat before their beloved was a joy unknown to others.

That very night, permission was granted from Ōdono, and Shinobu and Tekona’s wedding ceremony was set to take place without delay.

Nine That Tekona had shown occasional coldness toward Shinobu held no profound meaning. With Komuro she had at least once met and exchanged words intimately—a direct communion of emotions—but with Shinobu all remained indirect; even her acquiescence to his desire had been decided through intellectual judgment alone, so no deep affection or tender longing had taken root in her heart. Moreover, Tekona—with her strong compassion—could not stop pitying Komuro’s disappointment, making it natural that no new feelings toward Shinobu would arise. When she considered it, she recognized the Young Lord’s regard as an inexpressible divine blessing—yet through some strange disposition of her heart, her feelings refused to shift toward him. As matters finally reached their conclusion, Tekona thought: This cannot be—how has it come to this? Why does Lord Shinobu’s favor bring me no joy? There were moments she pondered deeply alone: This isn’t worth troubling Mother over. Given these circumstances—Tekona herself having agonized so over her emotional state—their marriage afterward lacked nothing in harmony. In the deepest depths of her heart lingered no residue, not the faintest shadow of prior unease—thus she could lean her whole being into perfect sincerity.

Of course, Shinobu’s warm heart and deep sincerity—his love that had thrown open both the doors of his chest and the locks of his heart, as though his very world and being depended on Tekona for their existence—now intimately received by her very person, meant Tekona could no longer retain even a hair’s breadth of self in the depths of her heart. Even were I to resolve against this union in harmony, there would be no path but to unite.

Thus, amidst the surging joy within Hoki’s residence, a new spring arrived.

On this side, Mana’s wish was splendidly fulfilled, and she married Shōsai before year’s end. For the New Year’s celebration, it had been arranged that the newlywed couples would gather and present themselves at the lord’s residence. Her mother’s anxious scolding about how this might look unfavorable to society did not reach her ears. Shōsai ended up doing everything exactly as Mana said. That said, Mana was not one to engage in constant troublemaking that would truly anger her parents. "Mana’s pride truly surpasses even Tekona’s," Tatsuo laughed.

After New Year’s passed, February’s spring arrived. Within seventy-five days, the rumors about Tekona subsided. As ever, lively horse boasts—discussions of this horse being such-and-such and that horse being so-and-so, along with skillful or clumsy methods of training colts and breaking them in—became the sole topics of conversation. In the evening, they would ride out to nearby plazas and spare no effort in their practice. Now that it had finally grown warmer, beyond discussions of seed varieties and preparations of hoes and sickles, they let laughter blossom over tales of each other’s mishaps, each settling into innocent lives. Truly, Hoki’s domain now enjoyed a spring of peace and harmony.

Yet on the evening of the tenth day，an unexpected event occurred that startled the entire district. Three fishermen from Mama clashed with those from Komuro’s territory over a trivial matter during their fishing expedition，and one among them was beaten so severely he could barely stand. This side had three men while their opponents numbered over ten，so they suffered a crushing defeat and fled back. If this had been one of those baseless chance skirmishes，it would not have caused such an uproar.But as details gradually came to light，it emerged that Hoki Shinobu’s continued victories in the district’s horse competitions—and his splendid welcoming of Tekona into his household—had deeply wounded the pride of the hot-blooded young warriors within Komuro’s territory. The resentment toward the House of Hoki soon spread throughout the territory，and the result—hating anyone from Hoki’s domain indiscriminately—gave rise to this incident. Given that this incident arose from such causes，similar conflicts may well break out again at any time hereafter.

When this matter spread through the district, it stirred up intense fury among the people. The hot-blooded faction grew so agitated that they even schemed immediate retaliation that very night. Though the situation had finally settled—settled it was—through the placating efforts of a few prudent men, with their harmonious and joyous dream abruptly shattered and the realization that a formidable enemy lurked nearby, the people’s fighting spirit was abruptly steeled.

Ten

Komuro, utterly devoid of any resentful heart, found his despondency and disappointment over his failed courtship of Tekona so pitiable it defied description—yet not a trace of resentment lingered within him. Therefore he harbored not a shred of bitterness toward Tekona—nor indeed toward Shinobu. Attributing everything to his own misfortune, he who had lost Tekona could only lament how all things between heaven and earth had become drained of joy.

Since he saw off Tekona’s father at the gate at last year’s end，he confined himself to a single room，not even stepping into the garden. The beloved horse whom he had never once failed to ride each day；now he would not even look upon it. Though Chifumi—his younger brother—and those who attended nearby took turns both consoling and admonishing him with lamentations，and though he earnestly wished to obey their counsel，his heart could only respond that it lacked any means to defy even its own admonishments. Thus，the household’s desolation went without saying，and throughout the territory，word spread to such an extent that they now found themselves in a state resembling official mourning—so much so that even raising one’s voice in laughter felt distasteful to others’ ears. Since their lord was renowned for his wisdom and enjoyed such extraordinary admiration throughout the territory，there was not a single soul who did not sympathize with him. Amidst this，as florid rumors of Hoki’s family spread daily，the people of the territory collectively felt an indescribable pain. Above all，the hot-blooded young men were swallowing bitter tears of frustration for their lord.

Unable to fathom their lord’s deeply devoted heart, they refrained from rash actions—yet were Komuro to seek redress for any grievance, those who would leap forth—be it through fire or flood—numbered not merely five or ten men. It was universally believed, though none could name its origin, that matters would not resolve without decisive action. These days, whenever three gathered, their talk inevitably turned to this; they gnashed their teeth, vowing that if it might ease their lord’s heart, they would stop at nothing—even should it require damming the inlet’s tides themselves. The more thoughtful clansmen swallowed tears and held back, while the imprudent youths burned with such fury that any from Hoki’s territory—be they even dogs or cats—they yearned to bludgeon dead. They could not recklessly invade, and thus barely kept the peace.

The incident on the evening of February 10th ended without escalating into a major incident precisely because it had been a sudden clash. Even within Hoki’s territory, some of the more prudent individuals—realizing that making a fuss over this would lead to catastrophe—declared they would not tolerate such an occurrence again. This time, having been persuaded to endure quietly, the beaten man and his two companions had wept themselves to sleep—yet their grudge smoldered in the depths of their hearts. But for those in Komuro’s territory, such trifling matters could hardly vent their fury. What use was there in tormenting just three wretched souls? Even if we slaughtered them all, it would still only be three men. When the time comes to act—and come it will—we’ll strike with full force. Right or wrong, unless we vent this pent-up frustration somehow, nothing will ever taste sweet again.

They were in such a fervor. The slightly more composed group—aware this matter concerned their lord and his unclear state of mind—worried reckless actions might bring him untold trouble. The prudent ones kept urging restraint upon the hot-blooded youths, but agreement seemed unlikely. Today being water replacement day at the communal irrigation well, four or five young men had drawn sake and resumed their usual indignant discussions. Being lordly in station, he could not engage in unsightly acts; he suppressed his resentment and remained secluded. How could we subordinates pretend ignorance of this? That Hoki dared steal another’s lover then flaunted it through those horse competitions—was such conduct not utterly detestable? Anyone would fall ill under such circumstances. His status compelled endurance. Yet endurance only deepened suffering. We who’d always been cherished could never stand idly by.

One man was drunkenly crying and saying these things. As for the rest of them, not a single one disagreed. "We don’t need others meddling—acting all-knowing as if they alone understand—and causing trouble for our Lord with their reckless ways! All we need do is offer up our lives! Would we ever bring trouble upon others? This has naught to do with the Lord! We’ll only do what we damn well please! If we could, we’d seize Hoki Shinobu himself and heap upon him every humiliation we desire! Even if that’s beyond us, we must slaughter four or five of that bastard’s lackeys to vent this rage! Ah, how infuriating! How unbearable! How deep must our Lord’s resentment run? Ah, this resentment…"

Saying this, another man began to weep. Another man rolled up his sleeves and started to rise. "Enough with the sniveling—what good will tears do? Let's act tonight." "Merely letting those bastards know how bitterly Komuro's subordinates resent them would bring some relief to our chests." "The Lord may endure, but we cannot."

One of the men said. “If we act tonight—how exactly?” “Rising up now would be pointless.” “First we must discuss.” “Since it’s fishing season, five or six of those Hoki bastards will surely be out tonight.” “We’ll gather fifteen or sixteen men and launch boats.” “Kill five or six, declare this our righteous vengeance, then spare one to report back—Hoki will hear of it.” “When Hoki learns people died for him and Tekona, he’ll fret himself ragged.” “Might even rage and cause an uproar.” “That’s when our plan succeeds.” “If they can’t gloat anymore, our Lord might find some peace.” “We’ll offer our lives—five or six of us, five or six of them. With this many dead over Tekona, their joy will rot.” “Hoki’s bastard celebrates his perfect victory while our Lord weeps—life drained of purpose.” “We can’t just watch that coldly.” “We must go through with it tonight.” “Right or wrong—we spit on your morals.” “When throwing away our lives, good and evil mean nothing.” “Let’s do it.” “Tonight we kill them all—not one escapes. Move out…!”

Once their plan was settled, they secretly gathered comrades and soon fourteen or fifteen men had assembled. With a defiant air of “We’ll shoulder the blame—come what may!”, fifteen men gathered at the inlet’s shore. There were those who argued that using weapons in a surprise attack was cowardly, so each prepared suitable clubs. They boarded three boats with five men each, set out into the inlet, and rowed toward the vicinity of Hoki’s domain.

Eleven

Though veiled in thin clouds, the river’s surface beneath the thirteenth-night moon glimmered faintly white. In both the allied village and the enemy village, scattered lights flickered in and out of view.

By the time their boat drew near Mama, the sky had abruptly taken on the aspect of a sudden shower. The wind, as if startled by something, suddenly stirred up the river surface and blew fiercely. The wind roared with a dreadful sound through the withered reed beds on both banks, howling fiercely. In the blink of an eye, the moon hid its faint form, and the sky turned utterly dark. Black, cold waves splattered against the boat’s flank, and the vessel began to pitch violently. The group of young men, though somewhat troubled by the growing darkness, were inherently lawless youths.

Could they retreat now? "Let’s carry it through to the end!" they shouted with even greater vigor, rowing with desperate determination. Finally reaching the eastern shore, they entered between the dense reed-covered sandbanks.

The reckless endeavor conceived by these hot-blooded youths, emboldened by drink, had from the very outset been a venture of profoundly uncertain purpose. Whether they would even encounter anyone from Hoki’s domain remained entirely uncertain, yet the sky darkened, the wind rose, and the waves grew fierce. As for where their intended enemies might be—they remained utterly clueless. Even these youths could not help but lose heart.

Just then, whether by fortune or misfortune, after the brief rain had passed, the sky cleared as if polished like a mirror. The cold moonlight cast upon the terrifying wave ridges, laying gold and silver upon them, while a lingering wind occasionally stirred the reed beds—it had become an indescribably exhilarating night.

Then, three small boats that had seemingly been sheltering from the wind until now suddenly emerged from a small stream through the reeds. They were undoubtedly Mama’s people. They were likely returning after finishing their eel drift fishing. Each boat carried three or four drift fishing baskets, their forms discernible even in the dim light of night. Two to each boat, they rowed on heedlessly, about to pass before our boats. They lay in wait; this side bellowed without hesitation, "Halt!" and detained the enemy.

Though they fished as fishermen did, they were no ordinary fishermen. In their leisure from farming and fishing, they rode horses and trained in archery—men of martial prowess. Having been halted, they summoned resolute voices and demanded that those before them first declare who they were.

“We are subordinates of Lord Komuro of the Saibu clan.” “Our lord has suffered every humiliation from Hoki Shinobu with no means to redress this grievance! Though knowing your innocence remains no choice tonight but strike you down venting fury!” “We who slay you stand ready die!” “Count meeting us misfortune!” they bellowed. “As vessels bearing our lord’s rancor—resolve yourselves! To battle!”

Their voices trembled. Their feet and hands trembled. Yet despite their bloodied faces visible even in the dark, Hoki’s samurai showed not a trace of panic and rose with resolute determination. "The target of our lord’s resentment... We shall become the very embodiment of that grudge." Though bearing no memory of wrongdoing, when those facing life-and-death stakes cried their resolve, the bloodshed began without delay. Though equal in boat numbers, those with larger crews could focus fully on steering. They always positioned their vessels in tactical strongpoints. Outnumbering their foes, within moments of encircling chaos, six men lay as corpses across their boats.

"Is there no one left? Striking enemies who offer no resistance goes against the samurai’s code!" "Whether to live or die—that lies in fate’s hands!" "Even if some might still draw breath, there’s no cause to finish them off!" shouted one man. "Did we go too far? Isn’t there even one still alive here?" As he spoke these words while inspecting the corpses in the boat, the man discovered a survivor. They gave him water and ordered the five corpses retrieved.

The wind ceased, leaving the night desolate, and under the pale moonlight, the ghastliness grew all the more intense. Even they, being no true villains, could not remain composed.

O brave warriors, splendid in your resolve to forgo debate over right and wrong! It was through our resolve to die that we could kill even the innocent. May the gods of heaven and earth bear witness! Unable to discern whether our single-minded devotion to our lord was righteous or wicked—we too, knowing ourselves to be those who would die on the morrow—cried out as one. They sent the boat of corpses near Mama and commanded the one surviving man—who kept shouting "Kill!"—to report the matter’s outcome throughout the domain: "Let those guilty submit to their crimes and see their grudges vanish. But for those innocent yet bearing resentment, their hatred will never fade." This they ordered him to relay to the lord.

Thus having spoken, the boat carrying the living man departed toward the open waters of Mama Inlet.

Twelve

When the four corpses and two cowards were each delivered into the hands of their families and friends, their grief-stricken wails resembled cries that dragged the world into an eternal abyss of darkness. From neighbor to neighbor, not a single soul could hear this with indifference. Before a moment had passed, the entire district had been plunged into utter turmoil.

By the events of the tenth day, the hot-blooded men—having already endured resentment beyond bearing—vomited blood in fury and ran about in frenzy. They absolutely had to exact their revenge before this night ended. They did not name names. Whether ten or twenty men, they would charge in with whatever numbers they had gathered. They refused to relent until they saw their enemies' blood spilled before their friends' corpses lost warmth. How could they remain composed even for a moment while bearing this resentment? Even the women and children's hair stood on end. The sound of sympathetic wails could be heard as far as the distant fields.

They gathered—thirty, fifty, seventy, eighty people. Many already clamored vehemently to set out. Tatsuo and Tanno had also come from afar.

The people who had gathered around bonfires in the three nearby courtyards had each made their preparations and were awaiting instructions from the prominent figures. With this many people, wasn’t it sufficient? They clamored desperately.

Tatsuo climbed a slightly elevated spot and addressed the crowd. Not just once but twice—they had killed up to four innocent people. Moreover, they had all relied on superior numbers and resorted to the cowardice of surprise attacks. They were bandits so detestable that tearing them apart with our teeth would hardly suffice. While everyone shared the same urge to charge forth for immediate vengeance, even if the full truth behind this incident remained unclear—given its roots in the longstanding feud between the Hoki and Komuro families—they had to deliberate further. Whether Komuro himself truly harbored such resentment toward the Hoki clan, whether the domain’s elders nursed such lawless grudges—considering too that this might have stemmed from reckless juniors’ thoughtless notions—launching too drastic a retaliation risked plunging them into irreparable ruin...

The enraged mob burst into uproar as one. No one was listening to Tatsuo anymore. “You always spout such half-hearted nonsense—it’ll never work!” “That kind of plausible-sounding crap ain’t something you spout at a time like tonight!” “Is this really the time to be spouting logic?!” “We’ll leave the aftermath to those who come after! No matter what happens, you think we can just stay like this?!” Because they were all hurling abuse, Tatsuo also fell silent. This time, Tanno stood up—compared to Tatsuo, who had a clever disposition, the sincere and taciturn Tanno was better received by the younger men. Tanno said: “We can’t waste time on drawn-out discussions.” “Since this isn’t an open matter, I’ll take charge—but we can’t afford to suffer defeat in our retaliation. We must establish some preliminary arrangements before acting.”

A surprise attack was cowardly; they were to dispatch a messenger to Komuro’s residence. Since using bows, arrows, swords, and blades without explicit permission from the mansion was deemed improper, all weapons were to be bamboo spears.

No disorderly conduct along the way; advance directly upon Komuro’s residence and demand substitutes in exchange for the five.

If intercepted en route，engage in decisive battle without question． Regarding the Komuro residence—since I myself shall act as envoy—they are to storm it within one moment． Entrust Tatsuo with delivering a full report of this outcome to the Hoki residence．

He shouted to make preparations that would tolerate no hesitation. Not a single soul voiced refusal.

They prepared the boats and bamboo spears; the instructed women boiled oil and coated the spear tips.

Tanno left home in haste to hurry along the road but returned to prepare his horse. Tanno had resolved he would never return alive—not even in the direst circumstance. The new wife who had married Tanno at the month’s beginning out of love clung to his sleeve and wept, declaring, "When you die, I too shall die—not a moment shall I linger in life after you." Even Tanno—stalwart among stalwarts—set aside his horse and drew his beloved wife close. He pressed his cheek against the woman’s cheek several times. "Whether we die or live, we remain together"—this was the phrase of farewell.

His wife still secretly yearned after the horse’s tracks, clinging to the boat’s departure point. Tanno scolded, “Don’t make me a coward!” and boarded the boat along with his horse. In the wake of him rowing far into the river’s heart—pushing the oar himself—the figure of a woman weeping in the shadows stood under moonlight so piercing it could wrench a man’s guts, stifling her sobs to keep them from her husband’s ears.

The night deepened further, and over a hundred resolute men stood pale-faced and wordless. All preparations had been completed as they gathered at the inlet’s shore. None among them raised a clamor. When fierce resolve congealed—like an iron mass plunged into water—their heavy, sunken vigor coalesced into a single entity ready to crash downward.

The women, elderly, and children who remained behind all gathered at the sacred grove of the guardian deity without anyone’s prompting and offered up prayers. The desperate voices of prayer froze in the night’s gloom, dreadful. Even demons wept; even gods wept.

Thirteen

Tanno rode alone through the deep night, his horse’s hooves clattering as he knocked upon Komuro’s gate. Prior to this, Komuro had received confessions from fifteen men and—while agonizing over how only part of the matter had been resolved—was convening his clan for urgent deliberations. Komuro commanded his attendants to bring Tanno directly into the courtyard and emerged himself to meet him. Komuro stood in flowing robes leaning upon his long sword, attended by a single retainer. Three or four samurai naturally stood guard along both sides of the veranda. It formed a solemn tableau—lighting candles in night’s darkness to receive an enemy envoy.

Tanno stood bowing deeply in gallant warrior’s attire, his favored long sword laid at his side, his complexion swarthy and robust with an utterly composed demeanor. He gripped the long sword in his left hand, rested his right hand near his right thigh, and stated his purpose. His voice rang clear, his words succinct. “The outrage committed in Mama tonight by your domain’s young men was no mere chance skirmish.” “It was a killing imbued with deep intent.” “The wrath of our entire district now rages like a blazing inferno.” “For five spirits, fifty young men of your domain must have their blood wrung out as offering.” “Within moments, our enraged group will cross the inlet.” “I come as an envoy who honors warrior’s name and shuns surprise attack’s cowardice.” “I declare no weapons shall be used unless your lord grants permission.”

Having said this, Tanno added further words and permitted no moment’s hesitation. “Let your domain make swift preparations as well. Now that I have fulfilled my duty as envoy, you may dispose of my person as you see fit.” Even amidst such circumstances, Komuro took note of Tanno’s demeanor and exclaimed in admiration, “What a magnificent young man!” Komuro—as though having long since settled his resolve and showing no trace of disturbance—declared calmly: “Very well—I myself shall receive your people at the inlet’s shore.” “Wait here a moment and guide me,” he said before retreating inside. Soon after, Komuro casually mounted his horse, accompanied by two knights, and urged Tanno forward. Tanno, finding the situation utterly unexpected, could form no coherent thoughts and had no choice but to obey Komuro’s command.

When the four horsemen exited the Black Gate, a fierce cry erupted over the inlet. The roar—"WAAH! WAAH! WAAH!"—resounded through the frigid sky with a ghastliness that scarcely seemed human. They set fire to the desiccated reed field. There had been not a breath of wind until now, but flames summoned their own gale. They ignited reeds parched beyond measure—miles of brittle stalks along the inlet’s shore. In an instant, the inlet became a sea of fire. A tsunami of flames engulfed the heavens. The sky-choking black clouds flushed crimson. The roaring inferno and human shrieks—that swirling chorus of “WAAH! WAAH! WAAH!”—surged closer with each crashing wave.

The shock within the domain was beyond description. The sight of people dashing about in disarray and households echoing each other in panicked confusion—with many unaware of the circumstances—resulted in nothing but uproar. Komuro had already ordered his retainers to make these preparations in advance, so now messengers scurried in all directions. Tanno dashed a step ahead and raced toward the shore where his allies were to land. Fire scorched the clouds; the blazing clouds in turn set the inlet aflame. Kicking through the scorched tidal path, dozens of small boats rushed toward this shore like arrows. The twenty-odd first arrivals who had landed were already waiting in orderly ranks. Now, as Tanno came running with three riders following behind, the crowd all stared wide-eyed in unison. Tanno, the moment he realized this, loudly announced himself.

Tanno dismounted from his horse and tersely informed them that Komuro had emerged alone before initiating discussions. The crowd kept streaming ashore. At that moment, Tatsuo came ashore bearing himself as supreme commander. Though Tatsuo hadn't initially commanded their confidence, none but he could now assume leadership in this crisis. Recognizing this mutual understanding between crowd and commander alike, they posted another man at Hoki Manor while he took formal command. Tanno felt profound relief seeing Tatsuo. Komuro's unexpected manner of appearance left the straightforward youths utterly confounded about how to proceed. Whenever matters grew complex they deferred to Tatsuo's judgment - thus Tanno found immense reassurance in his arrival at this pivotal juncture.

When Tanno reported the escalation of the matter, Tatsuo—secretly pleased his foresight had not erred—let slip a smile suggesting he perceived the situation could be settled with ease. Yet Tatsuo knew well that in these circumstances, mere trifling verbal courtesies could never appease the crowd's fury. As for what means Komuro—lightly equipped as he came to meet them—might employ, even Tatsuo could not discern.

Meanwhile, Komuro and his retainers dismounted their horses in the shade of a grove about twenty ken away from the shore. Tatsuo’s forces had nearly finished landing when they raised their battle cry for the third time. The fire in the dried reed field had burned far away. Over twenty pine torches cast a dreadful light through the gloom, illuminating bamboo spears.

Tatsuo organized the ranks with commands left and right, announced to the crowd a summary of Tanno’s mission, and now Komuro and his three retainers came to that grove’s shade. “We will not cease until we obtain what we seek.” “By what method does he intend to satisfy us?” He instructed them to suppress their agitated hearts and wait for a time. Tanno, accompanied by Tatsuo, introduced him to Komuro; after the three held a brief discussion, Tatsuo returned and reported to the crowd as follows.

Komuro learned the full extent of the matter through the prior surrender of the fifteen warriors. His own resolution regarding this matter was already settled. "The guilt lies with no one else; the responsibility resides solely within myself," he believed. "Since the Komuro family must satisfy you all to preserve its honor, wait but a moment—refrain from clashing with my subjects for my sake. That I personally welcome you here signifies nothing more than my wish to prevent futile conflict along our path." "Therefore, you shall follow me to my household—I swear I shall fulfill your wishes without fail," such was his declaration. Therefore, Tatsuo once again addressed the crowd. "We ourselves never desired futile conflict from the start; we merely seek satisfactory recompense for our grievances." "However, seeing he has come here alone makes clear he harbors no intent to fight." "Therefore, we should follow his words for now and observe what he does." "Unjust violence is the greatest shame for samurai. You must not commit futile acts along the way."

Upon hearing this, the spirited young men—though their initial fervor had lost its intensity—were roused by someone within their ranks shouting encouragingly. “Do you think we can grow complacent over mere lip service?” The crowd unanimously agreed and instinctively raised a battle cry.

Komuro ordered one retainer to have his horse yielded to Tatsuo; then, with Komuro at the center flanked by Tatsuo and Tanno aligning their reins on either side, they set off on their return journey. The warriors withdrew about ten ken, formed ranks of bamboo spears, and advanced quietly while waving pine torches. Komuro glanced back at the two men on horseback and attempted brief conversation, yet his posture and voice showed no trace of strain—appearing instead richly composed and utterly free from visible distress. Though unable to confer with each other, Tatsuo and Tanno shared aligned thoughts: How would this resolution unfold? What resolve lay within Komuro—who had sworn to fulfill their demands—and what measures might he take? They could discern no path forward. Even were those fifteen severed heads thrust before us now, this matter could never find resolution through such means. No—he would never resort to so shallow a measure. The more he pondered it, the less sense it made. Tanno found himself somewhat overwhelmed by Komuro's heroic bearing, while Tatsuo—though burning to discern Komuro's intentions—grew vexed at his own inability to grasp them, unwittingly succumbing to reverent awe.

Komuro’s residence drew near; Tatsuo directed the crowd to wait on a flatland about a hundred meters away from the gate.

Fourteen The crowd, feeling deeply uneasy about only Tatsuo and Tanno entering the residence, decided to have four or five prominent individuals accompany them. Komuro ushered these people into the garden and, with utmost courtesy, requested they rest briefly before withdrawing with his party to the inner quarters. Tatsuo found himself compelled to wait in the garden as Komuro directed, yet he could discern no trajectory for how events might unfold. The path ahead felt shrouded in darkness, his mind wandering through dreamlike uncertainty. Though he had steeled himself for any contingency, the sheer unpredictability of circumstances left him unable to shake a lingering unease.

The night deepened steadily; whenever moonlight flickered through gaps in the drifting clouds, it vanished from sight in an instant, plunging everything back into darkness.

What was most strange was that when Master Komuro returned, a clamor of voices could be heard within the residence, but once it quieted, there remained only a profound stillness in the deep night—not a single sound to be heard. Apart from the occasional stamping of the horse that had just been brought in, neither mice squeaked nor dogs barked. If one listened carefully, faint human voices could occasionally be heard from the distant inner chambers—though most sounded like those of women. Those here could only hold their breath and remain attentive to how things would unfold.

It was a night of calamity that could not dawn without some catastrophe occurring. In this dead of night where silence reigned, what tragic curtain was the god Magatsumi about to raise now?

Heartbeats pounded one by one; time pressed ever closer toward calamity. The crowd outside the gate raised a battle cry—"Uhaa! Uhaa! Uhaa!"—that tore through the night's darkness. It was a hair-raising, ghastly scream. Now, unable to bear their anxiety over how matters would proceed, they let out a cry pressing for resolution. Tanno involuntarily looked back at Tatsuo, "What in the world could have happened…?"

As Tatsuo seemed utterly lost in deep contemplation—whether Tanno’s words failed to reach his ears or not—he offered no response whatsoever. In that instant, from deep within the inner chambers arose a woman’s piercing cry—Hii!—shattering the silence.

Thud thud thud! Clatter clatter! Aaah—

Along with the cries of men and women, the sounds of great chaos began to ring out as vividly as if one could grasp them. The sound of people running about, the flicker of lanterns darting here and there—all culminated in a clamorous uproar of countless voices shouting all at once.

The seven or eight people here all rose resolutely to their feet, but soon realized the commotion showed no sign of moving toward them—just then, from somewhere,

“The Lord has passed... The Lord has passed...”

The words reached their ears. For the first time, Tatsuo and the others grasped the full sequence of events. Komuro had at last resolved to sacrifice his own life to resolve this incident—realizing this, they were thrown into a frenzy; even these hardened warriors, now equally overwhelmed, found themselves unable to utter a single word. Before they could fully process someone rushing toward them, the two retainers—who had earlier accompanied Komuro to receive Tatsuo and his men—came sprinting over. They announced their lord's ritual suicide, conveyed his final order to deliver an eyewitness account of his last moments, and urgently pressed the two men to hasten.

Tatsuo and Tanno, reeling as though they might collapse, were hurriedly led to a chamber. Komuro’s face was pale, his lips quivering, yet he was attempting to rise while leaning against something. With his eyes indicating the letter on the desk, he ordered his retainers to give it to you two; then, addressing the two men in a faint yet forceful voice, “Since I have borne all responsibility upon myself in this manner, you two must now simply withdraw quietly…” He had barely finished speaking when he collapsed and breathed his last. Beside him, men and women of the clan lay prostrate, writhing as they wept. Tatsuo and Tanno could do nothing but prostrate themselves. Even Tatsuo, now suddenly aware,

“We two have duly received your august command; may your heart be at ease,” he said, but Komuro could no longer offer any response. The attendants too scarcely knew what course to take. Tatsuo and Tanno momentarily lost their ability to act; yet realizing it was no situation to linger long, they offered earnest words of condolence to the two who had come to receive them and eventually withdrew. Those two, while seeing them off, relayed yet another tragic tale. The fifteen individuals who had earlier surrendered and remained in the residence, upon hearing that their lord’s ritual suicide was because of them, leapt up in anguish and mourned. Their mournful wails were such that it felt as though every glimmer of light between heaven and earth had been utterly extinguished.

Lamenting their folly—how they had convinced themselves that even their baseless atrocities were committed for their lord’s sake—they now cried, "Not a moment more shall we hesitate! Follow our lord into death!" and as one, bowed their heads and fell upon their swords. The two who were sending and the two who were being sent off—their parting ended with them choking back tears. The moon tilted as clouds thinned, casting a faint glow upon the gate; the four figures parting ways seemed as if one were beholding apparitions from the spirit world.

Tatsuo and Tanno, having exited the gate and finally regained their composure, hurried to their comrades’ presence. They concisely relayed the entire course of events and read aloud the letter they had been entrusted with. The writing was exceedingly concise.

Having deeply reflected upon this matter, I conclude the fault lies solely with me. I will not speak at length now. My death serves two purposes: first, due to my illness; second, as a substitute for the fifty lives you all sought. I implore you to return and inform your lord. Though my death undeniably relates to Tekona, I harbor no resentment beyond grieving my own misfortune. I hope the Hiochi couple will not dwell even slightly on my demise and instead find lasting happiness. My house has a younger brother who surpasses me. If you comprehend the intent behind my ritual suicide, restore the bonds between the Hiochi and Shibefu families to their former state.

Shibefu Komuro, Handwritten Letter The stalwart men, driven solely by fervor without regard for reason or refusal—a force that would have pushed through even bedrock—now heard the full account of events and had this testament read aloud to them; among them were those so overcome that they raised their voices and wept.

Tatsuo shared some of his thoughts. When one considered Shibefu Komuro’s noble and pure heart of hearts, none could help but weep; though this incident arose from a minor misunderstanding among his subordinates at heartland villages below him. Therefore he resolved to shoulder alone what should have been calamity for hundreds. Even among our comrades had we fought tonight as intended. Even as I say this. All of you must fully grasp Lord Komuros death.

The crowd did not utter a word, each as though regretting their somewhat rash actions. After completely dispersing the crowd, when Tatsuo and Tanno brought their horses before the gates of the Hiochi residence, the night had fully broken into dawn, and two or three birds with strangely plaintive voices were singing in the grove beyond. The Hiochi couple, having heard the full account, were struck with astonishment; so dumbfounded were they by the utterly unforeseen nature of events that they remained speechless for some time. Above all, Tekona, having heard since nightfall that the cause lay with herself, was tormented to the point of losing consciousness. From what was now learned, Komuro’s intentions had been driven by two motives: partly disappointment in himself, and partly a resolve to substitute himself for the people’s calamity—and though he grieved this misfortune, it was said he left no resentment. To think that even now—knowing his resolve remained pure to the end and bore no resentment—I realize he deigned not to despise me... Such mercy.

Tekona, having perhaps exhausted all strength to maintain composure before her husband, collapsed in tears as though her very breath might cease. Water sustains life yet takes life. Fire sustains life yet takes life.

On the third day after Komuro's death, the Hiochi household became desolate, like a fire that had been extinguished. Until yesterday, Shinobu had been the object of everyone’s envy; now, unable to endure the anguish of having survived, he lamented how he envied those who had met an honorable death.

Tekona slipped away from the mansion in a single night and vanished without a trace. They searched with every possible means, but ultimately could not find even a fragment of her belongings. Though everyone assumed she must have drowned herself in the inlet, aside from a small boat of unknown origin drifting along the inlet's shore, there appeared no trace suggesting she had cast herself into its waters. The villagers of Mama, whose sorrow for Tekona's heart swelled the inlet's waters with a rain of tears, could not bring themselves to speak of death in her regard. Tekona would certainly return. They declared she would return someday without fail. Even when rumors spread that Tekona's figure had appeared in the inlet's heat haze, they were still waiting for her return. The shrine for Tekona was erected on the inlet's shore during the generation of the children of those who had waited and grown old awaiting her return.