Pathway to Japanese Literature

I Bees were being sucked into the shadow beneath the drum tower's ridgepole with swift fluidity, while others droned out in low buzzes. The drum here too seemed to have weathered many long years. This was evident from how every single rivet had rusted crimson. Even the four massive pillars showed signs of erosion, their wood grain exposed like an old man's sinews. There could be no doubt - this structure had been erected alongside Gochaku Castle itself.

“...Ah, a beehive.” Kanbei opened his eyes. The moment he did, he struck his own neck hard and looked up at the underside of the eaves with bloodshot eyes. He had not slept since last night. He had not managed to steal even a moment’s rest. Thereupon, he had slipped away alone some time earlier and—leaning his back against a pillar—been dozing in pleasant oblivion. It lay hidden from view of the main keep, summer sunlight filtered agreeably through encircling foliage. Moreover, positioned at the castle’s highest point, the breeze descending from the Chūgoku Mountains’ spine played through his sideburns and lap—making it truly the perfect spot to snatch a stolen midday nap.

"This won't do—they've bitten me quite badly. "...Even the bees refuse to let me sleep."

Kanbei smiled wryly to himself and kept rubbing his neck and eyelids with his hand.

Therefore, though he had slept but a brief moment, with one great yawn, the night's fatigue was washed clean from his head. And he secretly resolved that tonight again, he must stay awake and persevere. Yet he did not readily rise. Still clasping his hakama-clad knees, he leaned against the pillar and gazed vacantly up at the rafters. Centered around the honeycomb, it seemed even the bees' world waged war—scouts venturing forth while others repelled assaults. Kanbei wore an expression of unflagging observation, though in truth his mind might have been contemplating matters entirely removed.

Then, before long, two retainers came up. They were the two samurai officers—Muroki Saihachi and Imazu Gendayu. When they discovered Kanbei’s figure here, both voiced their surprise in tones that revealed their astonishment.

“Ah! Honorable Chief Retainer! To think we’d find you here!” “There’s been an uproar over at council.” “Some claim you stormed back to Himeji in outrage—others insist ‘The Honorable Chief Retainer would never abandon his post without our Lord’s leave! He must still be nearby!’ They’re scouring every corner and dispatching riders beyond the walls...” “Hah.” “Is that so?” “They went through all that trouble?”

Kanbei’s expression remained utterly detached. Compared to such matters, the eyelids bitten by bees seemed far more pressing, and he kept scratching between his eyebrows and eyes with his fingertip.

II

In every castle throughout the land, there was always what was called a council chamber. Yet from those very council chambers, examples of truly grand strategies being born seemed exceedingly rare. Many became swept up in formalities; many played with theories; or else mindlessly conformed to insincere resolutions—finally declaring adjournment once a semblance of conclusion was reached. They said three heads were better than one, but that was at least when one and one came together—a gathering of zeros, even a hundred strong, remained nothing but zero. Even if a thousand eyes—all blind to the era’s trajectory—were gathered, they could not foresee the coming age; yet when seated in council, not a single one of them would—

(I am blind.)

Yet their faces showed no such expression. Yet lacking both conviction and exceptional insight, they resorted to sophistry and rhetorical skill to shore up their own positions. Consequently, the councils would grow ever more pompous, become needlessly entangled, veer off into tangents, and focus solely on trivialities—so that in the end, no matter how many times they convened, not a single truth emerged from their ranks, and they would fall into a state of perpetual deadlock.

“Enough! Though styled as a council continuing since last night, hearing your arguments in full shows we’ve not moved an inch from where we began at dusk. ...Better instead to recall Kanbei to this assembly and properly examine his counsel.” “This concerns no passing matter—it bears upon our Gochaku Castle’s survival.” “Even those who take issue with Kanbei must abandon private grievances and discord—deliberate as one, unite as one—or we perish.”

Lord Kodera Masanori had at last delivered this initial statement from his elevated position above the assembled councilors in a tone that bordered on a prolonged sigh. Thus, for a moment, it seemed the opportunistic passive arguments, peripheral opinions, and clashing of self-interests had all quieted down—when suddenly, "No, as for Lord Kanbei, we are even now searching for wherever he has gone off to." "For the Chief Retainer to slip away from none other than this very council session—this is utterly inexcusable." "That man seems to have not a shred of loyalty in his heart—no concern for the clan's rise or fall, no care for Your Lordship's future." "He appears to be someone whose sole talent lies in spouting grand delusions."

When Sue Yoshichika, one of the senior officials, began to berate him, the veteran councilors seated in the upper seats of the row—Kuramitsu Masatoshi, Murai Kawachi, Masuda Magouemon, and others—also began to speak in unison. "He’s always been silver-tongued, but a warrior shallow at core." "His discourtesy defies remedy."

“Your usual discourtesy may be forgiven, but what exactly do you take this esteemed council for?” “Therefore, it would be unreasonable to expect loyalty or such from Lord Kanbei.” “Unlike us, hereditary retainers, he is merely a vassal who has only had ties to your esteemed house since his father’s generation.” “Well, if you say so—he was originally just the son of an eye medicine vendor.” “Perhaps our very reverence for him as Chief Retainer may be what weighs heavy on the man himself.”

They carried on their whispered conversations—audibly, in their lord’s very presence. For the young samurai in the lower seats—those who held some goodwill toward Kanbei and supported his arguments—this proved deeply disagreeable. Unable to endure it further, a young voice from among those seats— “Forgive my interruption, Esteemed Elders, but this accords with our Lord’s own words. “However we proceed, let us first await Lord Kanbei’s return and earnestly examine his counsel anew. Only then should we seek judgment from our Lord—or offer refutations if you must. Yet this chamber is no place for me to speak. Might I humbly suggest restraining such excessive derisive whispers?”

There was one who，though mindful of his own station，summoned the courage to admonish.

Lord Kodera Masanori,

(That's right—well said.) ...he gazed toward the lower seats with eyes that stopped just short of gratitude. He was not a man who could command the gravity expected of a lord. He was by no means an incompetent ruler, and as the lord of a local warlord clan, he was even cultured—yet he sorely lacked what was needed to lead his clan and retainers in this generation. It was a discerning eye that broadly observed the currents of the present age and the disintegration and reconstruction they wrought. It was also a conviction unshaken amidst such turmoil. He lacked those.

To be fair, one could argue that it was unreasonable to expect such foresight from a provincial lord in Harima who ruled no more than a few remote districts. The movements of this day in Tenshō 3 were far too violent and far too vast.

A swimmer in shoreless waters

1. Things would sort themselves out. In time, things would sort themselves out. Masanori’s reliance on the currents of the era was indeed limited to just that.

But the day that could not be averted finally arrived. Of course, even the people in this council chamber—who since last night had continued to hold unresolved anguish and exhaustion like the stagnant water of an ancient pond—bore half the responsibility. No—the destruction of our liege house would spell our own ruin as well. It was undeniable that an impasse from which they could no longer rely on tomorrow now descended upon each and every one of them.

The problem was this: "At this juncture, how should the Kodera clan determine its allegiance?"

When viewed as divided into two,

“Should we continue siding with the Mōri house to the bitter end? Or would it be better to ally ourselves with Oda Nobunaga’s rising forces?” The debate fractured into two camps. Yet even at this critical hour, “We need not declare for either side—let us maintain our customary show of loyalty to the Mōri house while devising countermeasures should Oda’s armies advance,” came the obstinate refrain from conservative elders clinging to antiquated ways. But to Masanori—whose vision remained woefully out of step with the times—it was painfully evident that such half-measures and patchwork solutions could never appease even the Mōri faction now.

For Mōri Terumoto’s envoy had already been lodging at a temple in the castle town since the day before yesterday, “Consent.” “Refusal.” The envoy was awaiting the clan’s response. If Consent, they must send a hostage anew to Yoshida Castle in Aki Province; if Refusal, so be it—they would never return to Harima as envoys again. With these explicit threats incorporated into its message, Terumoto’s letter had simultaneously been placed in Kodera Masanori’s hands.

Stunned and pale, Masanori had spent the night urgently summoning his clan and chief retainers as though the crisis had only just erupted—

“What should we do?”

he had posed to those present. The assembled members who had received this inquiry also burned with bewilderment like houses with their eaves ablaze,

“If Nobunaga turns his armies toward Chūgoku, the first to be crushed will be our front lines here. Moreover, he who has even crushed the Imagawa and Takeda clans and driven Kyoto’s shogunate forces from the capital—he must never be underestimated.”

There were those who held such views, and others who outright denied them, “Even if Oda’s armies come in whatever numbers, Mōri’s power spans twelve provinces from Aki and Suō to San’in and San’yō. In the Seto Inland Sea, they have the Murakami and Kurushima clans’ naval forces as allies, are firmly allied with the Honganji followers of Osaka, and have no shortage of sympathizers in Settsu and elsewhere. How could the firm foundation laid since Lord Motonari’s time ever waver? Moreover, this castle belongs to a house that has long served as the Mōri’s vassals, governing this region since ancient times. There’s nothing to hesitate about! Just provide whatever hostage or written oath they demand—in exchange, we can request their honorable military support.”

This was clearly the argument of one who disregarded all surrounding circumstances and relied solely on the Mōri house's might.

If the present crisis could be navigated through such means alone, even Masanori would have raised no objection to doing so from the start. But the actual circumstances were neither so easily manageable nor so straightforward. Moreover, some of the arguments advocating that position tended far too much to underestimate Nobunaga’s burgeoning power. As evidence of this, they spoke of the Oda army’s westward advance in hypothetical terms like “if” or “even if they come,” but a clash between Oda and Mōri had now become inevitable—and moreover, the air was thick with its imminence, as though it could erupt tomorrow. By no means—

This was no tepid situation where one could idly wonder, *“Perhaps…”*

2

Earlier this year in the third year of Tenshō, just last month in early May, Nobunaga had departed from Gifu and, together with Tokugawa Ieyasu, defeated the elite forces of Takeda Katsuyori from Kōshū at Nagashino, and had already returned in triumph to Gifu.

His military forces were like a whirlwind without fixed direction. No sooner had they clashed with the Uesugi forces in northern Echigo yesterday than they were already quelling uprisings in Ise, turning back to slaughter the Asai in Ōmi, then pivoting to destroy the Asakura and setting fire to Mount Hiei—a swiftness likened to a sudden storm. And he had thoroughly expelled, root and branch, even the cancerous shogunate forces that had persisted since the time of the first Ashikaga shōgun from Kyoto.

“—Gifu is far away.” To entertain such notions would be to invite grave error. Strike not at the branches, but tear out the root. —This too was one of the tactics observed in Nobunaga’s warfare. For years past, he had directed his forces not toward dousing the flames at their source, but only toward where their shadows fell—now wearied by this constant pursuit, he teetered on the brink of exhaustion. The sectarian uprisings in Ise, Kōshū, Hokuriku, and other provinces that repeatedly rose up and plagued him were indeed those very flames. The remnants of the Imagawa, Saitō, Asakura, Sasaki, Rokkaku, and Asai clans—all destroyed by him—along with the rebellions across the land manipulated by the exiled shogun Yoshiaki, could very well be said to share the same nature as those flames.

Then where was the true source of anti-Nobunaga flames—not these mere flickering shadows but a blaze with genuine power to burn? He, ever astute, already knew its whereabouts by today.

Was it Osaka's Ishiyama Honganji Temple that possessed vast congregations, financial resources, and even military forces? No—even that Honganji could never have opposed Nobunaga for years or fundamentally obstructed his unification efforts through temple infrastructure alone. While their followers' tenacious resistance deserved some recognition, it was precisely this force behind them—supplying robust material and spiritual provisions by land and sea—that Nobunaga had— "(Someday...inevitably...)" he must have been targeting in his strategic calculus. That this meant none other than the Mōri clan—commanding twelve provinces' wealth and martial might across San'in and San'yō—required no explanation.

Outwardly, the Oda and Mōri clans had yet to enter open warfare, but it would be no exaggeration to say that covert battles had already been waged for many years. From Settsu to the San’yō region, they were already waging war in every aspect save bloodshed—winning over local lords, competing for resources, deploying spies, conducting rumor campaigns via travelers—all fronts ablaze with conflict. Of course, diplomatic relations between them had long since been severed, their checkpoint fortifications extended with utmost rigor all the way to maritime routes.

Particularly in neutralizing the many minor castle lords and local clans—who could be considered small buffer states between the two powers—it appeared that every possible means was being exhausted as a preliminary phase before open hostilities. Even for a single clan caught in this turmoil, whether the neighboring village’s lord sided with Mōri or Oda, or what allegiance a small castle just across the river harbored—in such circumstances, one could hardly ascertain the truth through surface movements alone.

For instance, though a major domain, even the Ukita clan of the immediately neighboring province beyond Harima’s Gochaku—currently perceived as aligned with the Mōri faction—could not be considered an immutable ally according to spy intelligence, which cast considerable doubt on their steadfastness.

The more one surveyed the situation, the clearer it became that the lords of this region were utterly lost in their allegiances—this was indeed the undeniable reality. It was not only Gochaku Castle and Kodera Masanori who were in disarray.

3

“Therefore, isn’t this precisely what I’ve been saying all along?” “How about it?”

The young chief retainer Kuroda Kanbei—who had just turned thirty at the time (here referred to by his original surname to avoid confusion with his adopted Kodera clan name)—alone maintained an utterly detached air at these proceedings, though he had been present since the previous evening. When Masanori addressed him by name,

“Kanbei—your opinion?” Even when asked,

“Beyond what I have consistently advised, I have no new opinions to present.” He gave no answer beyond that. And he sat there smirking, silently listening to every word spoken around him. Then, abruptly directing a sharp gaze, he stared at the face of the man spitting as he spoke. “This isn’t getting us anywhere.” Around dawn, he suggested to his lord Masanori that he retire to bed, but the elder Kuramitsu Masatoshi glared sharply, “What is the meaning of suggesting His Lordship retire to bed before even witnessing a resolution from the council? And yet you believe this fulfills your duty as chief retainer?”

Having been harshly rebuked, Kanbei obediently said “Yes” and bowed his head. Before long, before anyone realized it, he vanished without a trace. Others had been leaving in shifts for breakfast and returning to their seats, so it was assumed he too had risen for that purpose; but as the sun climbed higher and noon approached without his return, there emerged those who greatly doubted his whereabouts. But Masanori alone—as might be expected from one who had promoted this young man to chief retainer—understood. He showed not the slightest inclination of entertaining the suspicions plaguing his other retainers.

“Ah, esteemed colleagues. We have finally located the Chief Retainer’s whereabouts.” At that moment, the two samurai officials—Muroki Saihachi and Imazu Gendayu—returned to the edge of the lowest tier of seating and cheerfully delivered this report to the assembled council members.

But when all present—from the elders down—turned their eyes toward the voice, their faces bore no trace of such levity. The movement of several white eyebrows strained to furrow those very brows, “What? He was there?” “Where exactly has he been all this time?” he deliberately pressed the issue with severity.

Saihachi and Gendayu exchanged glances and began to obfuscate slightly, but as if there were no alternative, "He was atop the drum tower." they answered frankly.

The elder pressed further, “What’s this? You say he was at the drum tower—with whom?” “Alone.”

“So. For what purpose?” “It appeared he intended to sleep.” “I’m appalled. Good grief—this defies all description! And what of Lord Kanbei? Is he saying he won’t deign to come here anymore?”

“No. It seems that while napping, he was stung on the eyelid by a bee. He is currently washing his face and applying ointment before returning to the council, as he stated.” “……” No one remained—not to express shock, nor to voice outrage.

Ritual purification.

I

Beside the bathhouse entrance, water from the bamboo pipe gushed forth. There stood Kanbei, splashing water about as messily as a magpie while scrubbing his face. “—Towel. Towel.” Drops spilled from his chin as he turned and barked these words. The young monk—who had just placed a used razor on a tray and walked toward the corner shelf in the changing room—hurried back to present a towel before him.

At that moment, Muroki Saihachi—who had been there earlier—reappeared from beyond the bridge corridor,

“Lord Chief Retainer.” “Please make haste to attend.” “The council session shows no sign of progress no matter how long it continues—nothing but slanderous remarks and endless disputes rendering any resolution impossible.” “His Lordship appears wholly reliant upon Your Excellency alone and grows increasingly impatient for your presence.”

“I shall attend presently.” “I shall attend presently.”

Kuroda Kanbei sat on the wooden floorboards, facing the young monk, having him apply ointment to his left eyelid that had swollen severely. It was the mark from where a bee had stung him earlier at the drum tower.

“There, there,” he praised the young monk, then slowly rose to his feet and crossed the bridge corridor. And after circling along the veranda several times, he finally returned to the council chamber. Because it was distant from the sun, even a summer day held some coolness there, but the interior remained dim and cavernous. It merely allowed the inertia and confusion since last night to stagnate, thickening oppressively. And now that their arguments had been exhausted, the elders and their cohort—who until moments ago had done nothing but heap slander upon Kanbei—abruptly fell silent, deliberately keeping their eyes motionless as they resolutely ignored even the sight of him taking his seat.

Two

Kanbei bowed toward his lord’s seat. Then, while pressing his palm to the swollen eyelid, he seemed preoccupied with its lingering heat. Those in the elder councilors’ seats across the way—along with all others present—had fixed their eyes upon Kanbei’s person, subjecting him to a spiteful silence for some time. Yet Kanbei too maintained an unruffled quiet, until even Ogawa Mikawanokami—a relative of their lord Kodera Masanori—finally spoke up with a countenance that betrayed his fraying composure.

“Lord Kanbei. You abandoned this crucial council—where exactly have you been absenting yourself for so long?” “Ah. Are you referring to this one’s affairs?” “You’re the only one here with such insolence!” “I admit I took respite, but I meant no insolence.” “You’re the one who went up to the drum tower and took a leisurely nap, aren’t you?” “To wash away mental fatigue, I am aware that sleeping is the best method. Since napping before my lord would not be permissible, I allowed myself a brief moment to restore both body and mind. And I believed it to be for the sake of the clan.”

“Lord Chief Retainer.”

This time, Kuramitsu Masatoshi—though elderly—added his sharp-tongued reprimand from the side.

“Ah, Elder Kuramitsu…” Kanbei shifted his knees slightly toward him. “What is the meaning of this?” Instead, he even adopted an air of defiance.

Masatoshi’s face turned crimson, his white eyebrows standing out starkly against it.

“You’re still young—until now I’ve held my tongue.” “Barely thirty yet defiling the Chief Retainer’s office—no wonder you presume above your station.” “...But.” “Today differs.” “The clan’s fate hangs on this council—east or west decided here!” “Your words ring true.” “Then why—” Kuramitsu Masatoshi thrust a quivering finger at Kanbei’s face, knees scraping forward across tatami—

“That face… that face—what *is* this?” “This face?” “Is that acceptable, I ask you?” “When did you shave your beard?” “Just now.” “At the bathhouse.” “Though we might overlook your resting—given His Lordship’s merciful benevolence at dawn in permitting the weary to sleep—what manner of judgment is this, to emerge having shaved your beard, washed your face, and groomed yourself immaculately?” “To call that excessive—how utterly inconsiderate!”

“No, it was not merely my face. “I have gargled and cleansed my hands and feet as well.” “What?” “Are you not acquainted with the practice of ritual purification?” “I fail to see how having respectfully performed ritual purification could be considered improper.” “Enough of your sophistry!”

Now Murai Kawachi, Masuda Magouemon, Eda Zenbee, and other secondary councilors sharpened their tongues in unison, launching their attacks as though spitting venom. “What is this ‘ritual purification’? What need was there for such a thing? Preposterous!” “What need was there for you to perform ritual purification?” “A-Absurd!” Taking that as their cue—both this row and the samurai below—they all turned in unison toward their lord Masanori, hands braced... “To consult Your Lordship’s Chief Retainer—this unreliable youngster—on matters of such gravity would be not merely futile but gravely dangerous, we humbly submit.” “We implore Your Lordship—cease this wavering, resolve your heart! To ally with the Mōri family as we have always done—this alone ensures the clan’s enduring safety.” “Immediately dispatch a messenger to the embassy in the castle town and deign to deliver your reply on this matter.—We your servants most humbly entreat thus.”

they declared in unison.

To side with the west? To side with the east?

Masanori’s expression—which had seemed endlessly indecisive—was once again seized by the collective words, and he nearly set his will in motion with a “Then—”. But then—

“No, this is unacceptable!” “I resolutely oppose this!” “To align ourselves with the Mōri faction would be to invite our own destruction.” “It violates the very principles of bushido!” Kanbei’s voice suddenly boomed loud enough to shake the ceiling beams, causing—

“What?”

In an instant, the council session descended into bloodlust and uproar, even forgetting their lord’s presence before them. From among the warriors who favored the Mōri faction—backed by some of the lord’s relatives and elder retainers—five or six men abruptly leapt to their feet, “Even the Chief Retainer—we can’t let him live any longer!”

for they had come demonstrating their threat to resort to blades.

Three "Be seated."

Having said only that, Kanbei made no move to sit. With his heavy brows taking on a faintly angry cast, he merely admonished the men who were about to leap at him.

“Desist. Will you not be seated?”

Kodera Masanori also sharply rebuked them. And so, remaining indignant, the five or six men in the lower seats bit their lips and resumed their positions. Having confirmed this, Kanbei finally straightened his posture. The focus shifted to him, his tone and demeanor unchanged as ever. “In truth, my convictions had already been thoroughly conveyed to Your Lordship’s heart during ordinary times before matters reached this state." "Therefore, even in this council, I have nothing new to report to Your Lordship." “Yet I believe this council has been convened since last night with the intent to demand unity from all—for should the household split into two factions, some siding with Mōri and others insisting on allying with Oda, it would spell dire ruin.” “Yet for each of you—”

“Shut up!” “That’s your scheme!” “We who care for our house will not be poisoned by that plot! We shall never blindly follow your Oda proposal!” “Allow me to speak,” he interposed with measured courtesy, soothing the elder’s outburst— “My Lord has already sworn before the gods to entrust the Kodera house’s allegiance to your convictions, having pledged this vow to this one as well.”

“……?” With eyes filled with astonishment—all but voicing “unexpected”—the assembly turned their gaze toward Lord Masanori. Whether lie or truth, Masanori did not deny it. Kanbei too cast a fleeting glance at Masanori’s face. Those eyes seemed to glare straight through him. “To foresee crises before they manifest and daily offer loyal counsel to one’s lord, that he might not falter when action is demanded; to dare remonstrance even at the cost of giving offense should error be found—this is a retainer’s duty, and most particularly the chief retainer’s charge.” “I harbor no shame in this.” “Were I scheming some conspiracy, I would not declare it openly in such council.” “Lord Ogawa, Lord Kuramitsu, and all honored present—I beseech you to set your hearts at ease on this matter and grant me your ears.”

“What is this ‘listen’ you speak of?” “My beliefs—” “Your argument—we’ve long known it fixates solely on Oda! We heard it last night; we heard it again this morning. If you persist too vehemently, people will think you’re Oda’s agent.” “Slander against my person is something Kanbei does not mind in the slightest. Moreover, even were I to be slain here, I would never alter my steadfast convictions. Indeed, last night and again this morning—not once but multiple times—have I stated a part of my convictions. Yet each time this one speaks, you oppose.”

The chamber roared with commotion, doing nothing but stir disputes to no avail.—Thus, he had taken a recess to catch his breath. Moreover, the reason I performed ritual purification before returning here was because I resolved to solemnly present matters that should not be spoken of lightly—reiterating them now as this one’s final words. “In that case, even for you esteemed listeners, such an unprepared demeanor would be most improper.—Though you must be weary, first adjust your seating, straighten your collars, and quietly lend me your ears.”

Kanbei himself sat in formal seiza posture beyond reproach. To Lord Kodera Masanori, something seemed to strike his heart immediately; upon hearing this, he promptly pushed his cushion aside and straightened his own posture. When they saw their lord’s bearing, even the clan elders could no longer persist in their own will. Each hurriedly straightened their knees and adjusted their collars. Even within the household of a provincial lord who never ventured beyond a corner of Harima Province, the exacting customs of etiquette and ceremony from the long-standing Muromachi Shogunate had thoroughly permeated their being. When they thus aligned their postures with solemnity and surveyed the room, indeed every one of them appeared as samurai worthy of trust.

Four

As for what Kanbei argued at this time and place, it was of course an emphatic reiteration of his years-long assertion: support for Oda. The realm would inevitably be swept under the banners of the Oda forces. No matter how mighty the Mōri clan might be, however fiercely the Miyoshi faction—still clinging to the remnants of the shogunate—might resist, he did no more than reiterate his conviction that before Oda Nobunaga, they were ultimately but grass awaiting wildfire.

But that was a premise; what he solemnly intended to assert this day was—

――The question was why it had to be so. “I say nature brought forth Nobunaga upon this turbid earth through what men call divine will—no work of mortal hands or minds.” “Were this man not here today, who could bind this lawless age of unchecked mobs and endless factional strife?” “Who else might guide our chaos toward grand designs—through an Imperial Household in twilight decline—to forge peace where all people thrive?” “Can any but Nobunaga achieve this?”

“And furthermore,” “Nobunaga’s armies may indeed recognize him as their lord, yet Nobunaga himself never appears to forget his position as a military servant standing between the Imperial Household and the common people.” “Such principles of his seem rooted in his father Nobuhide’s time—neither political expediency nor half-measures.” “Consider his past achievements—crushing Imagawa Yoshimoto, subduing Mino’s Saitō clan, rendering Asai and Asakura no longer threats—were any ordinary man to attain such dominance as he now holds, he would surely have grown arrogant by this point.” “Yet with every victory, he unfailingly leads his men to Kyoto, first reporting pacification efforts at the palace gates before dispensing aid to commoners, urging memorial services at shrines and temples, overseeing road and bridge repairs, restoring the Imperial Court’s crumbling gates—much like a dutiful child laboring at the household’s heart who serves parents above while comforting pitiable siblings below, finding his own joy in the collective happiness of all people.” “Through twelve generations of Ashikaga rule—surveying every daimyo across the provinces—has there ever been one such man?” “The Mōri may style themselves a mighty domain, but they merely cling to Motonari’s house precepts—their ambitions never extend beyond defending their own lands.” “The Miyoshi faction cannot be dismissed given their shogunal allies and residual power in Kii, Iga, Awa and Sanuki—yet they remain antiquated minds from bygone days whose crimes of plunging society into chaos and tormenting the populace can hardly be called trivial.” “Most crucially—they utterly lack the people’s trust.”

he declared emphatically, “When viewed thus, is it not all too clear that there is none other than Nobunaga to whom we can stake the fortunes of our esteemed house and entrust our samurai’s lives? What we perceive, and where the populace finds common cause—it would be no exaggeration to say that only with Nobunaga’s emergence have the people first glimpsed the dawn. The ideal of one who, with the resolve previously stated, secures the people’s trust cannot possibly go unheeded in this age. How much more so in this age when there remains nothing else in the realm to rely upon!”

Even that vast chamber—the lethargy within it, the egos, the contentiousness—all of it was momentarily swept away, leaving only his voice to be heard there.

The Road I

One

It was past noon on that day. The heat still hung thick in the air.

Though it was but a provincial castle in a corner of Harima Province, the young chief retainer—still only thirty—with his robust health and ruddy cheeks bearing a smile, steadily walked his horse alone toward Himeji.

He turned around and looked back at Gochaku Castle about twice. I may never return here alive.

It appeared that Kanbei, too, harbored a measure of sentimentality. A sincere heart ultimately left people with no choice but to bow. His conviction prevailed. His long-cherished wish was granted.

(The group of Gochaku Castle, led by Lord Kodera Masanori, would side with the Oda faction. However, as a strategy, they would make every effort to keep it secret from neighboring regions for the time being.)

Thus, the night-long council finally reached a resolution and was settled.

As a result,

(Who would serve as envoy to the Oda family?)

When it came to this decision, naturally none other than Kuroda Kanbei was put forward by both his lord and the entire household, chosen to take on the role. Since their agreement left no room for delay—not a day nor a moment too soon—he immediately sought leave before his lord, parted from those seated with him, rose directly from that council seat, and set out on horseback toward Himeji. He had heard Nobunaga was currently at Gifu Castle. Though taking the Himeji route served as the logical path toward Kamigata en route to Gifu, he decided to stop by his ancestral home at Himeji Castle along the way—his mother long deceased—to bid farewell to his elderly father Sōen and show his face once more to his young wife and eight-year-old child after so prolonged an absence.

Ah, right... I should stop by Akashi as well. If I take a ship, I could board from that inlet there. Rather than dwell on the dangers of the journey, he devoted his thoughts more to such pleasures. Whether by sea or land, there was scarcely an inch of territory free from Mōri troops or Miyoshi spies—so if one considered it dangerous, it was perilous beyond measure. Yet for all his air of prudence, Kanbei was still a man who had only just turned thirty. For one bearing this mission, such concerns were beyond consideration—so great was the hope and delight that swelled in his breast.

The reason he had suddenly recalled the hermitage at Akashi Inlet now was that the grandfather he had adored beyond measure since childhood lived there. His name was Akashi Masakaze, a man with whom he shared deep blood ties, being his maternal grandfather.

His mother had originally been the daughter of someone connected to the Konoe family. Her father, Akashi Masakaze—owing to this connection—had frequented the Konoe household and served as a companion in the art of poetry to its father and son. However, when times grew turbulent, he built a hermitage on Akashi’s shore, adopted alternate names such as Sōwa or Ingetsu-ō (Old Man Hidden Moon), taught writing to fishermen’s children, and spent his remaining years in solitary enjoyment beyond fame and profit.

Two

Kanbei's character had been shaped in no small part by the tutelage of his grandfather, who had cherished him since childhood. Even during the peak of his mischievous boyhood, his grandfather's ideals had already begun taking root in the boy's heart.

And so, he first felt he must inform his grandfather of this mission, while his heart was eager to say at least a word to his father at Himeji Castle—whose aspirations aligned with his own. “Oh. Young Mankichi. Young Mankichi, isn’t it?” Someone called him—having been addressed by his childhood name after so long, he turned his horse around and scanned the roadside. A dust-white old monk in the blazing sun approached with spry steps. Kuroda Kanbei hurriedly dismounted from the saddle,

“Well, well, Master. It has been too long.” he lowered both hands to his knees and bowed in greeting.

He was the head priest of Jōdo-ji Temple in Himeji Castle Town. He was such an amiable man that all the townsfolk affectionately called him "Enmanbō, Enmanbō." Kuroda Kanbei had also received moral cultivation from this monk. It had not been so long since his father Sōen’s days of poverty, when he had not yet become a castle holder and eked out a living as a ronin by selling eye medicine. From that time onward, this monk had been more than just a teacher of reading and writing—he was a mentor who imparted various forms of moral cultivation to the fertile soil of the boy’s spirit.

But Enmanbō acted as though he were a friend. “Young Mankichi—where are you off to?”

Enmanbō wiped the sweat from his brow and asked. “Actually, I’m off on a journey.” With that, Kuroda Kanbei glanced briefly around. “Please offer your congratulations. I’ve been tasked with traveling to Gifu.” “To Gifu…” “Hmm…” “An official envoy from your lord?” “Indeed.” “Splendid! That’s excellent news. Understood, understood.” “I shan’t elaborate further—please infer the rest. Once I return safely, we’ll meet at leisure.” “On your journey—take care as you go.”

Kanbei directed his ear to his mentor’s words only briefly before turning his gaze back toward Goshō. He wore an uncharacteristically troubled expression.

Enmanbō seemed to notice suddenly. He turned his gaze in the same direction as Kanbei. When he looked, two samurai were racing toward them along the parched white road as if flying through the air. Taking wide strides, one carried a hand spear while the other raised his hand, shouting something loudly toward them as they approached. Kanbei remained perfectly still, his gaze fixed as he waited.

Unyielding Conviction

1

They were young retainers named Morita Tahei and Kuriyama Zensuke.

These two were not direct retainers of the Kodera family. They were what might be called secondary retainers, but Kanbei's father Sōen had raised them from boyhood. Several years earlier, when Kuroda Kanbei—valued for his exceptional talent—had been pressed by Kodera Masanori to accept the position of chief retainer at Goshō Castle, Sōen, ever mindful of his son, (If only these two remain with him no matter what...)

they were men he had specifically selected from among his many household retainers and sent to accompany him.

Now, when Tahei and Zensuke approached with frantic expressions and immediately pitched forward to kneel at his feet, even Kanbei—not one to be easily startled—

“What happened?! What’s occurred?”

he couldn’t help but raise his voice.

The two men, panting heavily and taking turns, reported that an incident of the following nature had occurred immediately after Kanbei’s departure.

“After the council concluded—immediately following your lordship’s departure—” “Those who persistently advocated allegiance to the Mōri Faction—whether we call it cowardice or disloyalty—overturned the council decision formally settled before our lord, secretly infiltrated the castle’s inner quarters, stole away the still-youngest princess, and delivered her into the hands of the Mōri family’s envoy.” “…Moreover, like bandits, they carried the princess from the rear gate out of the castle in broad daylight—swift as the wind—”

“Lord Ogawa of your own clan could not have been unaware, and there can be no doubt there were accomplices among the ladies of the inner quarters.” “Furthermore, we believe that Elder retainers such as Murai, Kuramitsu, and Masuda—all fully aware—entrusted his lordship’s daughter to the Mōri family as a hostage.” …………

Kuroda Kanbei was left stunned. More than his own fury at having been deftly thrown with a seoi-nage by the opposition faction, he could not help but pity the elder retainers' obstinate antiquated notions and reckless actions—driven as they were to desperation by their belief that neither Goshō Castle nor any individual fate could endure unless pushed to such extremes.

“Hmm…” “I see…” he said, then let out a guttural sigh—even him—

“If it’s Princess Sue we speak of—that six-year-old darling of a princess.” “Knowing this truth—how deeply shaken Lord Masanori must have been.” “Did he rebuke the elder retainers—or did he simply sit silent?” “We’ve yet to ascertain His Lordship’s condition.” “Well... once word reached us, we both raced straight to the temple outside the walls where Mōri’s envoys were quartered.”

“You were quite alert.—And the princess’s person?” “Regrettably, we were unable to retrieve her.” “So—did a battle break out?” “Nonsense—had that been necessary, we would never meekly hand over Her Highness even at the cost of our lives! But the envoy’s party had already departed the castle town at dawn—not a single horse remains behind.” “Ah… So this scenario was prearranged among them.” “Ah… It cannot be helped.”

Even this unforeseen event—his clear mind had already processed a provisional resolution. His tone now carried its usual brightness as he suddenly turned and smiled at Enmanbō, who had been standing there all along.

“Master Enmanbō．As you have now heard，this one’s journey has become a matter of pressing urgency．I shall meet you again at our leisure．This is farewell．” Gathering the reins，he lightly tapped the horse’s flat neck two or three times，then swung lightly into the saddle．

Two

From horseback, he looked down at the ground again and spoke to the two retainers who were still kneeling there with their hands pressed against the earth.

“Tahei, Zensuke.” “Yes, sir!” “I leave the castle in your hands.” “Understood…”

"My residence matters not. To hold the fort means to protect the castle’s interior. Taking advantage of this one’s absence, those plotting to align with the Mōri will likely employ every scheme—flattery, coercion—around our lord. But you must unite with the young men in the castle, who I believe make up a third of its number and share this Kanbei’s views, and keep a firm watch on their movements. That is the duty of holding the fort I entrust to you."

“Understood.” “Until the day of your return—even should we cling to these stone walls themselves—we shall not let Goshō Castle tilt toward the Mōri Faction.”

“That is all you need concern yourselves with. As for future worries…” “…But hearing your words has put this one’s mind at ease.” “Then I’m off.”

Turning his horse and beginning to advance, Enmanbō swiftly dashed to its side,

“Master Mankichi.” “Are you alright? Are you unharmed?”

Enmanbō stared fixedly up at Kanbei’s face.

Kuroda Kanbei spoke consolingly,

“I am alright. Please do not concern yourself. If this Kanbei were acting out of personal ambition or self-interest, then this might indeed be a perilous venture. Should the Governor and all within Goshō Castle fully commit to the Mōri faction, my wife, children, and elderly father in Himeji would surely face immediate execution. ...Yet.”

Kanbei’s innermost thoughts were as fair and upright as this azure sky. He did not consider even the slightest personal gain or advancement. “I believe my actions alone are the sole path to save our lord’s house. Moreover, I swear before the gods that this conviction—which will deliver the land of Chūgoku from war’s ravages and above all, bring peace to our lord’s troubled mind—is all that exists within me.”

“I believe you.” “But given how matters stand now—how firm is the lord’s resolve truly?” “Hmm… It is precisely that which I find rather unsettling.”

“He has always been a lord of good character by nature. When this one is by his side, he readily accepts my counsel. Yet should I be even slightly away from the castle, he immediately lends ear to heresies and dissenting views—vacillating between allying with the Mōri or seeking Oda’s aid—this being his flaw... I suspect even the matter of sending his youngest daughter as a hostage to the Mōri may not have been entirely unknown to My Lord himself. Half shows His Lordship’s tacit agreement, while half awaits—in my humble estimation—this Kanbei’s guidance with eager anticipation. Thus, even should the elder retainers or any among the clan scheme however they might, My Lord shall never declare his allegiance outright until this one returns from Gifu. Therefore, first and foremost, until this Kanbei rides posthaste back from Gifu, I believe there will certainly be no further changes at Goshō Castle.”

“Ah.” “You have considered this thoroughly.” “...If you had not contemplated it so deeply, this humble monk’s premature fretting would be entirely needless.” “Go forth in good health.” “Farewell.” “Tahei, Zensuke.” “Do not forget the charge I have just entrusted.”

Kanbei’s figure was enveloped in the dust kicked up by his horse and disappeared along the distant ridge before their eyes.

The Hill Clan

One

To Himeji was just under one ri. With the speed of a galloping horse, it was a matter of moments.

This was a fortified location at the strategic choke point between San'yō and Kinki, but at that time, it had not yet acquired the magnificent scenery that would later be known as Himeji Castle. It was nothing more than a branch castle built to defend Goshō’s main stronghold, its moats and ramparts constructed in an extremely simple manner—merely a residence that a certain Kuroda clan had built atop a densely wooded hill over a decade prior. However, that this hilltop residence had amassed such formidable influence and public esteem was ultimately a recent development, attributable chiefly to Kanbei—the eldest son who outshone his parent—as the primary factor.

The people of this world, ever eager to speak ill,

“Gold’s power is something else.” “That ronin eyedrop peddler became a landowner before anyone knew it—now he’s got hordes of servants and horses!”

Even now, there remained those who whispered such slanderous words, but it was clear this had nothing to do with monetary power. The proof lay in how the capable eldest son—Kanbei, barely thirty—had year after year demonstrated his worth, not only making Himeji’s small castle a force to be reckoned with in the surrounding provinces but also elevating his father Sōen’s prestige to extraordinary heights. Indeed, within Kodera’s domain—encompassing the mountains of Harima Province and remote coastal areas—local warlords resided everywhere, brigands amassed power, and suppressing these bandits consumed nearly all resources in military expenses and labor, leaving other governance matters in utter disarray.

It could be said that this reality was not unique to the Kodera clan’s domain but rather the general state of society at the time, prevalent in territories across all provinces. In such an age, even a mere eyedrop vendor could acquire fields, keep horses, support retainers, someday build stone walls upon Himeji’s hill, amass arms and strength—and though he might not rival the surrounding provinces, by securing peace and order in the local villages, establish here a martial house of his own.

Moreover, to this Kuroda family, heaven had now bestowed a prodigy, and their house’s fortunes rose to even greater prosperity. With Kanbei as the eldest son, there were his younger brother Koichirō and two sisters besides—but above all, Kanbei’s talents had already shone brightly from the age of fifteen or sixteen. After his mother’s death, he had for a time immersed himself in literature, frequently composing and practicing waka poetry. This appeared influenced by his maternal grandfather Akashi Masakaze, but on one occasion from Enmanbō of Jōdo-ji Temple—who served as his teacher in Confucian classics and Zen studies—

“This is no time for composing poetry about flowers, birds, wind, and moon.” “Those of your grandfather’s standing may dwell in such realms, but are you not still of tender age—soon to stand amidst ever-intensifying storms?” “You must earnestly seek heaven’s guidance regarding these times.”

From the moment he received this counsel, he resolutely abandoned the path of poetry and thereafter devoted himself wholeheartedly to Zen and military strategy.

Given this Kanbei, by around twenty-two years of age he had defeated a bandit leader named Sawazōbō in the neighboring areas, subjugated the Mashima clan in Sayo District, and whenever he led the family’s retainers into battle as Himeyama’s heir, he would return victorious—earning the trust of the townspeople. What caused the Kuroda family of the hill to grow more powerful year after year was not gold or any such means—it was rather the local warlords and bandits of neighboring regions who persisted in opposing this house as their enemy.

(What manner of man, precisely, was this Kuroda?)

And so, Kodera Masanori, lord of Goshō Castle, once visited this hill under pretext of hunting. This encounter led Kuroda Sōen to thereafter serve as a vassal of the Kodera clan, and in time his son Kanbei would succeed his father to assume the crucial position of chief retainer. Compared to other hereditary vassals—though their tenure remained brief—once the Kuroda father and son became retainers, banditry ceased entirely within Kodera’s domain, lost territories were reclaimed from enemy hands, and the people dutifully submitted to their virtuous governance.

But just when they thought their internal governance had finally been settled, external pressures began to bear down relentlessly upon this small domain, compelling them to declare their stance. They had managed to paper over this with a wait-and-see approach for the past two or three years, but now the sudden storm of events no longer permitted even a single day of such delay.

Two

“Omatsu… Wait obediently for me. "Father is now going on an official mission, passing through the capital to the province called Gifu." “Do you understand?” “Understood?”

Kanbei stroked his child’s head again and again.

His only son, Matsuchiyo, was eight years old. He was a child born in the very year he had married his current wife. He seemed unbearably fond of him. “Yes, yes.”

Matsuchiyo looked at his father’s face and nodded firmly. To a child’s mind, even a journey to a distant province seemed nothing more than just that. “Matsuchiyo also wants to go with Father to that place called Gifu.” When he returned to his mother’s side, Matsuchiyo said this and pulled his beautiful mother’s hand. Sōen, who had been silently gazing at Kanbei, his wife, and their grandchild all this time, swallowed down a cruelty akin to splitting green wood deep in his chest as he deliberately put on a face devoid of amusement.

“Kanbei, Kanbei.” “What sort of behavior is this for a samurai?” “While in the midst of an important mission, are you still lingering sorrowfully over parting with women and children?” “Enough of this—be on your way.” “If you hurry now, you can board a ship from Shikama Beach while it’s still daylight.” “A moment’s delay, if missed, could leave you with ten years of regret.”

“No. I never intended to stay this long, yet time slipped away unwittingly,” Kanbei replied. “I humbly take my leave. Father, please remain steadfast.” “Do not spare me a single thought,” Sōen retorted. “Come now—make haste!” At this, the young wife suddenly pulled Matsuchiyo onto her lap. Twisting her body away, she stifled a gasp and began weeping silently. Kanbei had been twenty-two when she—merely fifteen—married into this household. Though mother to an eight-year-old child, his wife remained but twenty-three summers in age.

Moreover, this woman was Kodera Masanori’s niece—a figure of striking beauty, endowed with abundant talents, and renowned throughout the province as a peerless beauty.

(—This might be our final parting in this life. It’s only natural. Heartrendingly touching.) Even Sōen could keenly perceive her heartfelt anguish to the point of physical pain yet steeled his will against allowing his child or daughter-in-law to enter even the periphery of his vision when he considered his son’s grave mission and its momentous consequences.

“Wait, wait, Kanbei. Are you going alone? Are you not taking even a single attendant?” “Yes—it’s easier to move freely alone.”

“There’s also the possibility of unforeseen events. Kinugasa Kyūzaemon. Why not take at least him with you?” “No—going alone will actually draw less attention.”

Kanbei too exited the room without a word to his wife and child as if driven by sheer obstinacy, and no sooner had he left than he was already whipping his horse down Himeyama Hill. The farewell had been so abrupt it made one wonder what purpose this visit had served at all.

Reishukō

I

Several plumes of smoke from the salt fields rose straight upward. The sun had passed its zenith slightly, but the port town of Shikama was said to experience its hottest hours during the evening calm from then until sunset. The leaves and flowers of the morning glories lay covered in white dust, and no shade remained on the sandy plain. The houses visible beyond formed a district where nightfall would bring the rough voices of port men and strains of string music. This intersection faced that vacant lot as a row of houses lining one side. Kanbei jumped down from his horse’s back, released the animal to graze, and brushed dust from his trousers up to his shoulders—clearing every particle from his body.

“Oh, isn’t this the Young Master of Himeji? Daughter! Daughter! Have the foot-washing water ready.” Yojiemon, who had been at the shopfront, startled to his feet upon seeing the figure outside. After quickly instructing Oki—who had been filling seashell containers with homemade eye medicine behind the screen—he scrambled into his sandals and dashed across the thoroughfare. “Oh ho! What brings you here? Could it truly be the Young Master? Why have you come so suddenly, entirely alone?”

Circling around behind Kanbei, dusting him off in tandem, removing his hat, and ushering him forward with such haste that he scarcely had time to plant his feet before being guided onward,

“Old man, old man. Rather than me, take that horse to the back entrance first. Then remove the saddle right away and hide it away in the back. The saddle draws too much attention.” “Then—have you come incognito on urgent business?”

“This isn’t just an incognito journey—it’s a covert mission where every move must avoid detection. Especially here, a bustling port town teeming with people from every province. Hurry up. I’ll explain the details later.”

“Yes.” “Yes.” “—Hoy, daughter! Open the back gate and keep it ready.” “I’ll take the horse in.” Yojiemon, though still unaware of the full situation, took the horse’s reins and in great haste pulled it into the alleyway. While watching this, Kanbei sat down on the shop’s threshold and, with the casualness of one entering his own home, untied his straw sandals and washed his feet. And then, suddenly noticing the old wooden signboard hanging under the eaves—

(Family’s Secret Divine Remedy) Reishukō As he looked up at the eye medicine signboard boldly inscribed with "Reishukō," he recalled his own childhood and his father’s impoverished days, gazing at it nostalgically for a while.

II

Yojiemon the eye medicine seller had also once been a servant of Kanbei’s father, Sōen Shigetaka. When Urakami Munenori, a senior retainer of the Akamatsu clan, overthrew his lord and plunged the province into great turmoil, Sōen fled the chaos from Bizen to this land of Harima and had lived as a masterless samurai for many years since. Iguchi Yojiemon had indeed been their retainer since those days, having faithfully served his lord to navigate their impoverished years. After Sōen became a vassal of the Kodera clan and had solidified their present foundation, Yojiemon—now aged and ailing—expressed his desire to spend his remaining years in peaceful town life. In recognition of his service, Sōen transferred to him both the preparation and sale of their family’s eye medicine, which had once rescued them from destitution, thereby rewarding his longstanding loyalty.

Given this relationship—and especially since Kanbei had grown so accustomed to Yojiemon from early childhood, having his nose wiped for him or being carried on his back, that he had behaved with such willfulness as to almost forget their lord-retainer dynamic—even now, upon seeing him, traces of that spoiled child’s tone would inadvertently slip into his words. “Old man, old man.” “Don’t concern yourself with anything else.” “I won’t stay long.” “After taking a short rest, I intend to depart by boat as soon as night falls.”

After sitting down in a room facing the north courtyard and wiping the sweat from his face, Kanbei spoke those words. Yet he sat sprawled out to fill the room as though unaware of any need for reserve or decorum, waving his fan broadly to draw cool air into the front of his kimono. Not forgetting the old courtesies, Yojiemon remained humbly seated in the next small room beyond the threshold, “Do you mean to depart by boat tonight?” “That’s right—the land route is too perilous to traverse safely.” “A boat is preferable.” “…Now then, could you employ your resourcefulness to secure a small vessel for crossing to Settsu?”

"That’s easily done, but might I inquire where you intend to go this time?" “Gifu. My destination is—”

“To Gifu.” “Precisely. You’ve likely already surmised as much.” “...Then, does that mean Lord Oda Nobunaga is present there?”

“First, assume my purpose lies along those lines.” ...Just uttering Nobunaga’s name makes this Chūgoku region’s eyes gleam with unnatural intensity. “Were it known that I—Gochaku’s chief retainer—ventured there, chaos would erupt like water boiling in a cauldron.” “Hence I must move in absolute secrecy.” “Find me a boatman of utmost reliability—or failing that, one dull-witted enough to raise no suspicion.” “Understood... Yet between here and Kyoto lies territory no less perilous than enemy lands. Traveling alone—should danger arise—”

“No—no matter how cautious one might be, when it’s time to be killed, escape proves difficult. Conversely, when fate hasn’t run its course, even should one fall into dire peril, matters won’t conclude so easily.” “Your disposition since childhood.” “Given that you’ve already steeled yourself to such an extent, Your Lordship would not deign to bend your will.” “However, should you perceive any peril along your journey, in Itami of Settsu, there is her brother…” and, indicating Oki—who was pouring tea beside him—with a glance,

“Though not bound by blood, there is one who stands as her brother—a silversmith called Shiroganeya Shinpachi, who maintains a modest household. Should Your Lordship deign to conceal yourself there or issue any command whatsoever, I would grind my bones to dust to serve in this old man’s stead.” “Hmm—the house called Shiroganeya in Itami.” “I may yet impose upon them.” “I’ll commit it to memory.”

With that, Kanbei took a sip of the tea Oki had offered, “I’d like to have a bowl of rice gruel.” “Before boarding the boat.” “Girl. “Prepare something for him.” “I’ll go to the harbor in the meantime and find a reliable boatman,” said Yojiemon as he headed out.

The Vanguard's Lone Sail

I

Before long, the town reached the hour for lighting lamps. As dusk fell, a cool coastal breeze began flowing even into the alleyways. By the time Kanbei had finished his rice gruel, Yojiemon returned and, “It may prove somewhat inconvenient, but I’ve given gold to a mute boatman—a man of utmost honesty—and instructed him to position the boat beneath Gan no Matsu.” “However, this evening brings word that over ten sailors from Mōri’s naval forces disembarked a provisions ship and now drink with samurai from Miki Castle in yonder pleasure quarter. Moreover, with many unfamiliar warriors seen prowling the streets, you must exercise extreme caution when departing.”

urging him to stay vigilant.

Kanbei nodded,

“Even now, as I ate my meal and considered it, I feel that in this current guise, while the sea route might be manageable, reaching Gifu overland would ultimately prove difficult.” “Since this household dispatches eyedrop peddlers to the provinces, could you lend me a full set of their traveling attire? —I’ll change my guise here and depart at once.”

Yojiemon agreed that this was a sound plan, but when he saw Kanbei changing into the peddler’s lightly soiled underclothes and gaiters—the perils ahead and the resolute spirit behind that determination weighing on his heart—the old man who had raised this man from childhood with devoted care could not help but turn his face away and secretly wipe his tears. However, he himself appeared utterly carefree, not in the least gripped by such sentimentality. "How do I look? It suits me, doesn’t it?" he teased, glancing back at Oki with feigned levity, then—

“Don’t leave the luggage filled with empty boxes either. If they inspect it during some incident, that’d spell trouble. And bring out all the miscellaneous items—the credit ledger, the apothecary’s certificates, and such.” He touched his head. “This topknot style simply won’t do. Miss Oki, could you loosen this and tie it back properly?”

While hurrying ahead with such tasks, he paid meticulous attention to every detail.

II

Before the moon had risen, Kuroda Kanbei slipped out through the back entrance. He strenuously refused, but Yojiemon insisted on accompanying him to the shore, and Oki too declared she absolutely must see him off to the boat. “Come after me.” Kanbei strode through the town and hurried toward Gan no Matsu on the shore. When he looked, there was a small boat that appeared to be the promised one moored there. Kuroda Kanbei approached the water’s edge, “Are you the boatman hired by Yojiemon?” “Is this the boat promised to take us to Settsu?”

he called out twice. The boatman was crouched at the stern, tending a fire in an earthen stove while simmering something. And he did not even turn around.

"Ahahaha."

Kuroda Kanbei started laughing by himself. He had remembered that the boatman was mute.

So, deciding to wait until Yojiemon arrived, he stood quietly waiting for him to come. However, Yojiemon had taken an unexpectedly long time, and for some reason was considerably delayed before finally showing up here. “My apologies for keeping you waiting,” said Yojiemon. “The truth is, when I came out afterward, I unexpectedly encountered Lord Kinugasa at a crossroads in the town, which caused the delay…” With that, he looked back and stepped aside.

Kinugasa Kyūzaemon—his father’s close retainer from Himeji—had also disguised himself as an eyedrop peddler, held his hat in both hands, and silently bowed deeply to his knees.

“Well, Kyūzaemon. Why did you follow me here?” “It is by the command of Lord Father.” “What? By Lord Father’s command? ...When I stopped by Himeyama Residence to bid farewell, he scolded my reluctance—‘Why linger so wistfully?’—urging me to depart without delay.” “Though he encouraged you thus, being your parent, who could fathom how deeply he must worry for your safety on this journey? ...After you had departed, Young Lord, he soon summoned me, saying that should misfortune befall you en route—even were his only son’s life forfeit—it would affect all Chūgoku’s future. ‘Accompany him,’ he graciously commanded this unworthy one, ‘and ensure his safe passage.’ Thus have I come following after you.”

“……I see.” Kanbei turned his gaze toward Himeji’s sky. And without any further discussion on the matter, he ordered Yojiemon to summon the mute’s boat to shore. “I’m indebted to you. Well then, I’m off.”

Taking Kyūzaemon along, Kanbei immediately boarded the boat. The expressionless boatman had already gripped the oar handle and was rowing with creaking strokes. The seaside lay calm with a favorable night breeze, so upon leaving shore, the boatman promptly raised the sail. Beneath Gan no Matsu, the father and daughter kept watching until the white sail’s silhouette had vanished from sight.

On this night, in the land of Chūgoku, there was not yet a soul who knew. This lone sail—quietly bearing soft southern winds as it moved eastward across a sea of harmonic whispers—would soon transform San’yō’s balance of power, leave a vast tidal mark upon all Japan that was to come, and stand as none other than the vanguard of those innovative forces.

Kajiyamachi

I

Traversing sea routes and overland paths across the brief journey from Himeji to Gifu—a trek that had indeed taken over a month—the two eyedrop peddlers had finally arrived by late July.

The life-shortening hardships they had endured during that brief period were evident in their very appearance. Grime caked their collars, their faces were blackened as if scorched, and even the flesh around their eye sockets had thinned. Now, no one who saw them would have taken them for chief retainers of the Kodera family or their vassals. They appeared as nothing but filthy men traveling to peddle their family’s secret "Reishukō" ointment.

“Well, Kyūzaemon. “The prosperity of this castle town...” “Or rather—this vitality—” "What tremendous momentum this has. "Even the eyes and gait of the people passing by differ from those in Chūgoku." "That said, even if one looks at the goods gathered in the markets or glances at the town’s culture, in terms of material abundance and the refinement of the people, the various cities and ports of the western provinces far surpass this." "Somehow, this kind of burning vitality does not exist in Chūgoku."

“It is the difference between the western regions, where the conservative policies of the Mōri clan manifest themselves, and the eastern regions burning with an innovative spirit casting off old shells.” “With this contrast laid bare, does it not become evident where resides the central force that shall propel this era forward?”

As he walked, Kanbei often spoke. He also closely observed things around him. And whenever passersby drew near, they immediately fell silent. The master and servant had in time grown proficient in maintaining their disguises against prying eyes.

“By the way, to secure an audience with Lord Nobunaga, would it not be the wisest course of action to request an introduction through someone—perhaps even among the Oda family’s senior retainers—who enjoys his lordship’s deepest trust?”

Upon entering this destination, Kinugasa Kyūzaemon seemed to have thought his master Kanbei would immediately ascend to Gifu Castle. However, Kuroda Kanbei had taken lodging at a dingy boardinghouse in Kajiyamachi and spent both the day of their arrival and the following day walking through the town while selling eyedrops. “Hmm… You are quite right,” he said. “Within the Oda family, if I trace connections through my father’s or maternal relatives, there were indeed some acquaintances—even those whose faces I wouldn’t recognize—who might acknowledge me were I to visit them.” He paused, then added: “But the beginning is what truly matters. The stakes are especially high here—it would be unwise to involve half-hearted intermediaries.”

“Speaking of those who currently hold significant influence within the Oda family—first would be Lord Hayashi Sado-no-kami, Lord Sakuma Nobumori, and Lord Mori Yoshinari.”

“Shibata Katsuie, Takigawa Kazumasu, Niwa Gorōza, Ikeda Nobuteru.” “There are still more. “Lord Maeda, Lord Akechi, Lord Hashiba—” As he counted off each of his five fingers one by one and said, “Lord Hashiba—” Kanbei alone shook his head vigorously,

“What dreadful heat.” “Gifu’s sweltering too...” “Let’s call it a day with today’s business.” Turning the corner, they returned once more that day to the boardinghouse in Kajiyamachi.

II

In a district of backstreets inhabited largely by artisans—blacksmiths, dyers, leatherworkers, and the like—the red flames of bellows, the clang of hammers, and the shouts of laborers left no distinction between night and day. Even at midnight, when all of Gifu Castle Town had fallen asleep, sparks still flew in this district.

The time was immediately after the Battle of Nagashino. This was an artisan town under a lord who had just returned triumphant from a great victory—one so decisive it had demoted the Takeda of Kōyama, who had long boasted an undefeated iron army, to a second-rate domain in a single stroke. The prosperity was evident enough, but their obstinacy defied all measure. Semi-naked figures—their faces streaked with sweat never given time to wash—thrummed with lethal intensity whether in the streets, their homes, or workshop sheds.

And as they habitually said, “Even at Anegawa, even at Nagashino—our overwhelming victories were only natural.” “Our commander’s a different matter, but—not to brag—every spear and arrowhead we’ve forged has our soul poured into ’em. Just you watch—whether it’s Echigo’s Uesugi, the Honganji Temple, or even Chūgoku’s Mōri bastards, they’ll all get melted down in the bellows of my smithy!”

The boardinghouse where Kanbei and his retainer lodged stood adjacent to what appeared to be an izakaya frequented by such folk for respite—just as night deepened and one might consider sleep, the clamor next door would reach its peak. The commotion alone would have been tolerable, but at times the walls shook, and rat droppings from the rafters would come raining down onto their sleeping faces. Even now, Kyūzaemon—appearing startled by something—lifted his head from the wooden pillow,

“This is utterly wretched.” “No mosquito net, all that racket—what a wretched inn we’ve picked.” As he grumbled this, he suddenly noticed Kanbei—lying beside him on the same woven mat—still awake, wearing a sly smirk. “With all this, there’s simply no way you can sleep.” “Let us move to another inn tomorrow.” “Since it’s every night, you’ll end up sleep-deprived.” he said. “Wherever we go, it’ll be the same.” “With this heat and mosquitoes…”

Kanbei also heaved himself up and sat down on the thin straw mattress,

“The walls here might as well be made of paper—even lying abed, I can gauge the castle town’s prices, read its people’s moods, and grasp every shifting circumstance like pebbles in my palm.” “When I saw it stood beside a tavern, I chose this lodging with purpose.” “Bear your sleepless nights, Kyūzaemon.”

Knocking at Midnight

I

Hashiba Hideyoshi arrived in Gifu today, leading a small troop of subordinates and a modest baggage train from Odani Castle in northern Ōmi. No sooner had they triumphed at Nagashino than the atmosphere in Gifu almost openly declared that the next move would be a campaign to Echizen. Subtle schemes could be concealed, but what all people collectively sensed—akin to a tidal surge—could not be hidden from the world’s eyes and ears. “No, we are not heading to the lodgings. We are proceeding directly to the main castle now. ...Baggage handlers alone shall go to the lodgings.”

At a street corner, Hashiba Hideyoshi—still mounted—was barking these orders to his subordinates. After the fall of the Asai family, he had been installed as lord of Odani Castle, his status and prestige growing ever weightier—yet at thirty-nine years old, his frame remained compact to the extreme. His glittering eyes lacked any semblance of dignity, and his face—burnt reddish-black by the scorching sun—gave him the bearing of nothing more than a mid-ranking officer commanding a hundred soldiers, unless one knew better.

“What? We’re turning back?”

“Turn back, turn back! Leave the baggage train as it is!” The subordinates—who had assumed they would first head to their lodgings upon arrival to wipe their sweat, rest their bodies, and enjoy at least one leisurely evening—now found themselves ordered through Hideyoshi’s words, relayed again by lower-ranking officers, to abruptly reverse course from the nearly rounded path. In an instant, the crossroads grew thick with unusual congestion, reeking of horse and human sweat. Then a mounted page beside Hideyoshi suddenly shifted his spear and pointed it sharply toward one side of the thoroughfare,

“Hey! What do you think you’re doing?”

he shouted piercingly. For a man had rushed up beside Hideyoshi’s steed, timing his approach from beneath the eaves of a merchant house a short distance ahead. However, the man was not holding any weapons. He carried only the load of an eye medicine seller and a hat. The other commanders also turned their eyes to the ground in unison but did not act hastily. “I am by no means a suspicious person.” “As my master’s messenger, I have been awaiting your esteemed passage at this opportune time since this morning.” “I humbly beg you to kindly deliver this letter from my master.”

A letter became visible in his hand, so a foot soldier took it and passed it to a mounted general. (What course of action should we take?) The general turned to Hideyoshi as if questioning with his eyes, but Hideyoshi had already leaned partway over his horse’s mane and was reaching out his hand. The contents appeared brief. After a quick glance, Hideyoshi immediately turned to Kinugasa Kyūzaemon and responded. “Tell him to come in the evening.” Kinugasa Kyūzaemon wildly rejoiced,

“Then, shall it be tonight as well, my lord?” “A bit late is acceptable.” “And your lodgings?” “Anyone you ask would know immediately. It was some temple called... in the west of this town. I believe the gate was painted red.” “Hah…” By the time Kyūzaemon had bowed and raised his head, the cloud of dust kicked up by the horses of Hideyoshi’s surrounding subordinates was already clattering out through the midday town toward the main gate of Inabayama Castle. II

Before meeting Nobunaga, he resolved first to meet the man called Hashiba Tōkichirō. Depending on circumstances, he would meet Nobunaga through that man without mediation from hereditary senior vassals. Kuroda Kanbei had taken note of this Hashiba from the Oda clan while still governing his home province. Yet only after arriving in Gifu did he develop such profound admiration for the man—here his long-held expectations found corroboration through facts of manifold significance. Among hereditary councilors and senior Oda generals, the derisive epithet “Monkey” still circulated freely; his reputation stood less as “not particularly good” than actively poor in every regard. But among mid-ranking new commanders existed both fair appraisals and genuine respect—though what ultimately moved Kanbei to declare “This man!” came from commoners’ voices below castle walls. Here lay neither conflicting notions toward Hideyoshi nor vested interests—honestly they praised “Lord Hashiba! Lord Hashiba!” while speaking of Tōkichirō of Odani with one accord—

(He seems truly remarkable…) they would say. When Kuroda Kanbei himself considered why Hideyoshi was so supported by the common people, he realized that unlike other brave and fierce generals, Hashiba Hideyoshi—later Toyotomi Hideyoshi—had no particular reputation for martial valor. Yet whether serving as a magistrate, overseeing castle construction, or managing provincial governance, wherever Hideyoshi was appointed, there had never been an instance where he failed to produce significant results. When those who had served under him returned to town, they would all sing his praises in unison; and wherever his presence was felt across occupied territories, people regarded him with the familiarity of a family patriarch.

(He must undoubtedly be a man of some merit. Even within a progressive house like the Oda clan, which had achieved such fresh advancements, rather than entrusting his grand ambitions to those hereditary elders who flaunted their seniority, it would have been better to take the gamble: meet him firsthand, test his caliber, and if he proved reliable, secure Hashiba Hideyoshi as an ally first—only then would meeting Nobunaga not be too late.)

Having considered every angle, Kanbei had reached this conclusion. Yet if there had been any great miscalculation on his part during this time, it lay in this: until meeting Hideyoshi, he had truly intended within his mind to skillfully secure this Fujikichirō Hideyoshi for his own grand ambitions and effectively wield him.

But contrary to his scheming—the more he reflected in hindsight—even Kanbei of all people could not help but admit the situation had inverted itself.

III

It was late at night.

Kuroda and his retinue came to a halt before a temple near the outskirts of the castle town.

——Even the dead of night would suffice. Since these had been the words conveyed, Kanbei had deliberately delayed his coming until somewhat later into the night.

“Wait here,” Kinugasa Kyūzaemon said. “This humble one will make inquiries.” He knocked on the small gate and began explaining something to the guards inside. Had Hideyoshi’s instructions not been properly conveyed? Their interrogation proved relentlessly harsh—though this was only natural, given that Kanbei remained in his eye medicine seller’s disguise that night as well, having brought no change of clothes. “Wait there awhile,” came the brusque command.

Being told so, they stood waiting outside the gate for nearly half an hour. —Yet when several different retainers eventually came to greet them, they apologized for the earlier rudeness and treated them with utmost courtesy. “To explain—our lord Hideyoshi scarcely slept during his journey from northern Ōmi to this province. He camped outdoors, rousing himself after brief naps to press onward without rest. Upon arrival, he bypassed these lodgings entirely to ascend directly to the main castle and confer with Lord Nobunaga. Only at dusk did he finally return here… but no sooner had he taken his bath than he collapsed into deep slumber, snoring loudly. We sincerely apologize for the discourtesy.” “He has expressed his desire to meet you at once.” “Now, this way.”

Guiding their guest deep into the temple garden with handheld lanterns held aloft, the Hashiba retainers offered repeated explanations and apologies as they went.

They were likely the young attendants serving at Hideyoshi’s side. Among them, he thought he recognized the faces of young men who had pointed their spears at Kyūzaemon earlier that day. In any case, even the servants all treated the guest with courtesy. Even in shielding their master’s fatigue, they did so without affectation; and even after ushering the guest into a chamber, the warmth exuded by the household members far outshone the lamplight there, unveiling without pretense the very character of the Hashiba household’s ethos.

First Meeting

I

Kyūzaemon, his attendant, was made to wait in a separate room, while Kanbei alone was led across the corridor to the inner guest quarters.

Within a space of approximately twenty tatami mats surrounded by white papered walls, three candles cast their glow. As he entered, splendidly attired attendants filed out past his figure in succession, clearing away meal trays and sake decanters. Despite the late hour, Hideyoshi had only just awoken—his meal appeared to have been concluded mere moments earlier. Through this scene could be discerned how frantically busy his daily life was, his personal affairs conducted haphazardly without regard for conventional hours. “Well now—this is—” came the man’s voice as he rose from his bedding to greet his guest. Before Kanbei could take his seat, Hideyoshi strode across to him,

“Well now! You’ve come all this way to see me.” “To me—what an unexpected guest!” “Not bad at all…”

Hideyoshi looked as though he might seize his hand. It was as though he were welcoming an old friend of ten years. Though lords of a province and castle typically tend to put on a dignified front, he showed not a trace of such airs. Moreover, his bearing was not nearly as imposing as one might have expected. Kanbei was not a large man himself, but Hideyoshi too was of small stature. What was exceptionally large about him was his voice. His booming voice—disproportionate to his frame—seemed to come as naturally to him as breathing, and once the guest had taken his seat, he dispensed with formalities with remarkable brevity,

“I’ve long heard much about you.” “You may think this our first meeting, but this Chikuzen feels as if we’ve known each other for years. The reason being—during my many visits to Kyoto in Lord Nobunaga’s retinue, I frequently heard your name mentioned by Lord Konoe Sakihisa, who shares close ties with your liege.” “...They say your grandfather Akashi Masakaze regularly attended the Konoe residence as an instructor in poetic arts—both for the family’s previous head and Lord Sakihisa in his youth.”

With that, he began speaking from an unexpected angle—displaying such thorough knowledge of matters ranging from current conditions in the rural Gosho district of Chūgoku to the relationship between the Kuroda and Kodera families that even Kanbei found himself surprised—all delivered in a tone of intimate familiarity. “While there are many capable men in Chūgoku, I had heard from not only the Konoe family but also Araki Murashige of Settsu that the son of an eyeglass merchant in Himeji was a promising man worthy of future attention—one I had long wished to meet should the opportunity arise.” “That you have gone out of your way to come all the way to this Gifu—I can hardly fathom my good fortune.” “Earlier today at the town crossroads, when I received your letter from your retainer, I even wondered if it might be someone else sharing your surname.” “Well, well! What a delightful night this is!”

The manner in which he displayed his genuine delight seemed to transcend all shallow flattery and social artifice common to the world—discarding distinctions of status between self and other, erasing formalities of host and guest—revealing nothing but the sight of a single unadorned human being laying bare his emotions without pretense.

II

Until entering this room, Kuroda Kanbei had been somewhat tense. This could be said to be only natural. After all, he was but a mere retainer of a minor provincial lord, while the other party was a castle-holding commander under Oda Nobunaga’s banner. In terms of status, there was a marked difference. For him, even sharing the same room could be considered an exceptional favor. Yet Kuroda Kanbei harbored not a shred of servile intent to achieve his aims under Hideyoshi’s wing. He too was a lord of a castle; he himself was of warrior lineage. If Hideyoshi stood preeminent among central samurai, then he had the confidence that with a single finger he could stir the tempests of Chūgoku east and west—this he did not voice, but his bearing declared it.

“Well, is that so? To think you knew of this country bumpkin from long ago—it is both unexpected and deeply gratifying. I do not mean to merely echo your words, but in truth, this one had long been intrigued by the name of Hashiba Tōkichirō even while residing in my home province. Therefore, having gathered every whisper from the streets with care into these ears of mine, within the entire Oda household, there was no other figure who had captured my attention save Your Lordship.”

“How curious!” “To think we’ve been pining for each other sight unseen.” “The world’s praise and blame bring few good rumors—mostly ill ones. Yet for someone like this Chikuzen to earn such regard from you—I’m humbled.”

“But to speak frankly—before meeting you, I had imagined a rather more imposing and dignified physique. That alone proved somewhat unexpected.” “Well now—raised in an impoverished peasant household during my youth, barely managed to survive—born with this spindly frame as you see.” “But from what I observe, you don’t appear particularly stalwart yourself.” “How old might you be?” “I am exactly thirty.” “You’re thirty, yes?” “Then I am much your senior.” “Nine years your senior.”

Despite this being their first meeting, Hideyoshi deliberately used the term "brother" when addressing him. Kuroda Kanbei privately questioned this overfamiliar address in his mind, yet Hideyoshi appeared wholly unperturbed—abruptly turning to glance at the adjacent seat, “...Then between Oki and Kanbei here lies exactly two years’ difference.” “So Kanbei ranks youngest, followed by Oki, with this Chikuzen crowning the trio?” “Reflecting thus, I find myself no longer counted among youth’s ranks.” “Yet neither can I fully claim place among the adults’ order—or can I?”

With a self-deprecating chuckle, he burst into hearty laughter once more.

The other figure present also smiled wordlessly, maintaining his silence. After offering only a slight bow at the start, he had yet to utter a single word—a warrior sitting rigidly at Hideyoshi’s side. His face was pale, his muscles gaunt, and he possessed clear eyes akin to a hawk resting its wings amidst the sighing pines. Kanbei had secretly been concerned about this for some time now, so “Who might this be?” “Is he a member of your household?” And seizing the moment, he directed his inquiry toward Hideyoshi.

Hawk

I

“Oh. “Ah, this person here?” Hideyoshi earnestly proceeded to introduce him. “Takenaka Shigeharu.” "You may already know this, but he is the son of the lord of Bodaisan Castle in Mino Iwamura." "He is now both this Chikuzen’s instructor in military strategy and a member of my household, but given his peculiar status—having been assigned to the Hashiba house by Lord Nobunaga himself—I constantly harbor anxiety that he might be recalled at any moment. A most troublesome retainer indeed." “Precisely because of that, he is what you might call Lord Chikuzen’s irreplaceable right hand.” “No, Kanbei—with you, we shall surely share a bond that bares liver and gall to one another.” “Swear an oath to it.”

When Hideyoshi finished speaking, Takenaka Shigeharu quietly turned toward him for the first time and offered his greetings. His voice, unlike Hideyoshi’s, carried the weighty resonance of bamboo groves whispering on a snowy night, his words devoid of any superfluity. And even in that single bow, there lingered a warmth through which one could faintly discern his character, and a light of intelligence. “What! You are Lord Takenaka. “I have been remiss.” “This one—” Kanbei also hurriedly returned the bow, but while his self-deprecation had not been particularly intense when speaking with Hideyoshi, toward this Shigeharu, for some reason, he could not help but feel it distinctly. It was, after all, an honest admission of his inadequacy—that he was but a country samurai. However, he fully understood that the man bore no condescending arrogance toward him.

Even so, he felt as though he were witnessing something impossible—that a man of such caliber would willingly serve within the Hashiba household. Takenaka Shigeharu—son of Bodaisan Castle in Mino—was a great talent long renowned among military scholars of the age, to the extent that none remained unaware of his name. In a sense, within the Oda clan, Takenaka Shigeharu might have been more renowned than even Hashiba Hideyoshi himself as a single general—it might not be an exaggeration to say. In his youth, it is said he spent much time in the imperial capital. Most often, he would practice Zen meditation at Daitoku-ji, yet upon receiving word of battle from his home domain, he would immediately spur his horse to the battlefield—only to reappear at his Zen practice once the fighting concluded. Such was the tale often recounted throughout the capital.

On days when he stood upon the battlefield, he would lay Tora Gozen's tachi across his roughly lacquered armor. "If this young lord takes his place at the vanguard," it was said, "an unnameable gravity settles over the entire army, strengthening the resolve of even the lowliest soldiers—" This assessment was held not only within his household but as general consensus. His profound knowledge of military strategy was counted among the foremost of the age; when attacking, he was decisive; when defending, solemn; his magnanimity was like the rivers and seas; and his divine stratagems in warfare were so highly esteemed that he came to be regarded as a reincarnation of Zhuge Liang and Kusunoki—a martial prowess of such caliber.

Hideyoshi himself was counted among the foremost of those ardent admirers. When he was still at Sumoto Castle and had just acquired his first fortress and narrow territory, he repeatedly visited the thatched hermitage on Mount Kurihara where Shigeharu had secluded himself, striving early on to bring this young genius to his side—a story all too widely known throughout the land. This was likened by people to the Three Visits Courtesy from ancient China, where Liu Bei sought out Zhuge Liang at his thatched cottage.

(Hashiba Chikuzen’s ardent efforts had finally drawn Ganryū Shigeharu—the “Sleeping Dragon”—into his own camp.) Some even went so far as to say this. In any case, throughout this Sengoku era, there had never been a military affair that stirred as much discussion as this. The sole regret was that heaven, for reasons unknown, had not granted Takenaka Shigeharu—a man of such caliber—a robust physique. He had been of a sickly constitution since his youth. This alone was deeply lamented, and Hideyoshi too seemed to exercise extraordinary care, as though keeping a fragile treasure by his side.

Kuroda Kanbei had long heard rumors of the hardships endured in Chugoku’s remote regions, but after imagining their general nature, he had let them slip from his mind without conscious effort. Now, recalling all the advance reputations he had heard at once, it was precisely from the moment he came face-to-face with that man tonight that he found himself compelled to straighten his collar in solemn recognition of the weight of his presence and character.

II “The bath has been prepared.” Seizing the moment when the page delivered this announcement, “Ah! Splendid… What say you, Kanbei?” Hideyoshi interjected without waiting for response. “Let’s have the lad guide us to soak ourselves quick-like.” He pressed insistently despite having never asked Kanbei’s purpose—treating him like an honored guest requiring hospitality rather than a petitioner. “No finer summer feast than steaming waters! Wash off the grime and don fresh robes… Short though the night grows, we’ll shift chambers afterward to break bread.” He paused mid-gesture, squinting. “Wait now—you’ve supped already? Pity that! This Chikuzen here”—he thumped his chest—“left his own meal half-eaten when you came calling! Woke from evening doze to rice bowl in hand, then had servants clear the tray when your name reached me.” His grin returned, conspiratorial. “No matter—words flow freer with cups between us! Bathe first—all else follows.”

As if oblivious to the deepening hour, Hideyoshi pressed insistently before withdrawing to his private quarters with Hanbei. The page urged them toward the bathhouse from behind. Kanbei had no choice but to follow along. He still lacked the composure in his heart to leisurely enjoy the bath—how should he broach the matter weighing on his mind? When should he raise it? While he had been searching for the right moment, things had turned out this way—and he couldn’t help but feel he had lost his chance.

Kinugasa Kyūzaemon, who had been waiting in an adjoining room—likely restless with anxiety over how the discussion had concluded—turned his face from within his chamber as Kuroda Kanbei passed by following the page down the long corridor, watched his master’s demeanor with evident concern.

A Night's Discourse with My Lord

I

At the hour when people and stable horses alike had settled into sleep, within this single room where candlelight was renewed, they shared cups at midnight as though declaring, "Now we begin." With his post-bath skin refreshed and cool beneath changed garments, Kanbei—the guest—drank more liberally than his wont and spoke at greater length than usual, as though reborn.

Hideyoshi also loved sake, and Takenaka Shigeharu partook a little. What's more, while it was a three-person gathering with Kanbei, in quantity Kanbei far surpassed the two hosts.

Summer nights are brief. Especially when men who have met by chance open their hearts to discuss ideals, confront reality, and share the joy of being born in this era, their enthusiasm would not wane even if they talked through the night. "I must reiterate—no matter how your grand design for unifying the realm is pursued, will it not only come to fruition after pacifying Chugoku?" "While the formidable might of the Mōri clan tenaciously holds sway over the seas and lands west of Settsu, even if Lord Nobunaga raises his banners in Kyoto’s central plains—sweeping away both the remnants of the Ashikaga shogunate and their corrupt practices—subdues one by one the reluctant daimyō of the Kinai region, secures stability in Tōkai, and eradicates even the formidable lords of Kōyama—ultimately, none of this can be deemed satisfactory." "The ideals he holds dear cannot be realized." "Ultimately, everything hinges on how the Chugoku campaign concludes." "...Moreover, with the Mōri clan allying themselves with Ishiyama Hongan-ji, and the resistance of the Hongan-ji sect taking various forms across Kinai, Ise, and Hokuriku—wherever their religious community has a foothold—they seize any opportunity to raise the flames of anti-Nobunaga rebellion. Under such circumstances, is this not all the more true?" "Attacking Nagashima, attacking Hokuriku—all are mere peripheral matters." "Why not fundamentally crush Hongan-ji—its puppet master—and decisively mobilize a grand army to subjugate Chugoku? ...I find this hesitation utterly maddening."

In conversations over drinks, the more engrossed people become, the more they tend to stray into trivial matters or veer off into other topics. Though Kanbei poured out a fragment of his innermost thoughts—words that were by no means delivered all at once—he managed to reveal only the essential points over several exchanges, observing his counterpart’s reactions and gauging the opportune moments to refill their cups.

That being said, Hideyoshi was by no means ignoring the matter. Hideyoshi was, if anything, more of a good listener than a talker. He listened well to others' opinions. He listened to Kanbei’s words with enthusiasm evident on his face. Yet his replies were largely passive compared to Kanbei’s enthusiasm. “Naturally, the Chugoku issue cannot be neglected. “I too have long considered this matter, and my lord Nobunaga’s discerning eye would never neglect plans for the future. “However, the reality is that the Oda clan’s neighboring regions were far too troubled—last year we deployed to Ise, this May concluded the great battle of Nagashino, and without allowing troops or horses a moment’s respite, are now preparing to immediately march north to Hokuriku. “Even so, these current troubles at hand were by no means due to the weakness of our Oda clan, nor were they a collapse arising from poor policies. “In short—just like all of us here—the Oda clan’s enterprise itself remains young. “You can’t even imagine it. “It has only been since the Battle of Okehazama that the Oda clan has existed. “At that time, my lord was but twenty-five years of age—meaning Lord Nobunaga’s enterprise, now that he has reached forty-two years, has truly spanned only seventeen years. In these seventeen years alone, he has advanced from his station as a mere vassal in Owari Kiyosu to this height, swept away the accumulated evils from Kyoto, and demonstrated loyalty surpassing even that seen in the days of the old Muromachi shogunate... Such being the case, I say—truly swift beyond measure! What we ordinary men could scarcely achieve in a lifetime, he has accomplished in this brief span of years—to the astonishment of even us retainers. “Therefore, the rough-hewn nature of the process was unavoidable. “In such a rapid process, it naturally follows that consequences will remain. “In any case—to be honest—our hands still cannot reach Chugoku. “No matter what, our immediate concerns must come first. “Even if we attempt to bring about a hasty completion all the way to Chugoku as we have until now, ahead lies a powerful domain—the foe we face now is different from those before.”

When summarized, Hideyoshi’s response to him had been along these lines. He would not take a more proactive stance beyond that. The sake was excellent, and his companion was someone worth conversing with—yet on this point, Kanbei remained dissatisfied.

II “You’ll be too late. If you keep treading these conventional paths, you’ll end up being too late when it matters most.”

His tone began to take on a certain vehemence. Of course, Kanbei’s vehemence had likely been aided by the sake he had already emptied from a jug. The sake cup never left his indignant lips. “What do you mean by ‘too late’?”

Hideyoshi laughed. Suddenly, he feigned ignorance in a way that caught Kanbei off guard. “Are you unaware?” “The Mōri faction’s military preparations were no mere overnight endeavor.” “You must realize they far surpass all imagination.” “I know.” “In Settsu, Yamashiro, and Izumi, our allies cling scattered like dewdrops—but set foot into Harima Province and behold.” “Those contemplating allegiance to Oda or Mōri likely number no more than this Kuroda Kanbei alone.” “In truth, they are all Mōri partisans.”

“Hmm.” “That may indeed be the case.”

“Leaving land aside for a moment—from the Seto Inland Sea across all of Settsu Province to Osaka’s estuary—which clan dominates these seas?” “Is it not the Mōri clan alone?” “They maintain several hundred warships and over a thousand transport vessels, constantly moving between Naniwa and Senshu while maintaining contact with Ishiyama Hongan-ji. Yet I have heard no reports of the Oda clan possessing even a single warship or naval unit.”

At this moment, Hideyoshi truly made an unpleasant face. Two lines formed between his eyebrows. He seemed like the kind of man who would occasionally let such bitterness show.

The keenly perceptive Kanbei immediately set down his cup, turning it into a moment of silence. Had Takenaka Shigeharu not chuckled quietly beside them during that moment, the rift between host and guest might have remained taut, resulting in an irreparable atmosphere.

“Kanbei…”

Hideyoshi also began to smile wryly. It took the form of him being drawn into Takenaka Shigeharu’s laughter and laughing almost reluctantly. “I’ve had enough of the sake already.” Kanbei deliberately gave an irrelevant answer and feigned ignorance, “No, leave the sake be. …But Kanbei,” “Yes.” “Don’t speak too much of the truth.” “What do you mean?”

"As expected, you remain nine years my junior," Hideyoshi remarked, using his Chikuzen title as self-reference. "The Oda clan's current standing—and what it requires moving forward—rests precisely on such youthful vigor and vision, does it not?" Kanbei countered. He felt immediate relief wash over him. Hideyoshi's acknowledgment of his relative youth had lifted an unspoken burden. Yet when his retort carried a tinge of childish insistence, Hideyoshi's brow furrowed slightly in irritation—

“Well, drink,” Hideyoshi urged. “Once you’ve had audience with our lord Nobunaga regarding these matters, we’ll discuss them thoroughly then. This Chikuzen is but one general moving under Lord Nobunaga’s command.” He gestured expansively. “...Should permission come from the castle, I could escort you to Gifu Castle tomorrow itself. Together we’d attend His Lordship and hold proper consultations.” With that measured reassurance, he placated Kanbei just enough.

From that point onward, their conversation no longer touched upon military or political matters at all. For Kanbei—who had staked his liege house's fate by overcoming fierce opposition within the Kodera family, who had bid farewell to his father and family with the thought this might be their final parting—this silence weighed heavy with all the passion and sacrifice he carried within him. Though he burned to speak of these things too, Hideyoshi's very bearing seemed to dismiss the allegiance of a minor clan like Kodera as ultimately inconsequential. Finding it ignoble to force his brooding thoughts upon such indifference, Kanbei likewise held his tongue and simply kept refilling his cup.

“If you were to meet him tomorrow, you too would surely perceive Lord Nobunaga’s dignity,” he said, “but His Lordship delights in merriment—when partaking of sake, he often requests his pages to perform short song performances and even graciously hums improvised verses himself.” “Kanbei, do you possess any such arts?”

At Hideyoshi’s digressions, Kanbei grew somewhat impatient, “I can perform kouta dances. And monkey dances too.” he scoffed in reply. Then Hideyoshi, “You’re quite the versatile man. How about giving us a little dance then?”

With that, he handed over his own folding fan. "Here, I must decline—" Kanbei waved his hand in refusal. Then, turning to the page drowsily waiting in the corner, he requested the inkstone box and finished inscribing something on it, "My lord, you're the one who should grace us with a song."

With that, he returned it to Hideyoshi’s hand. While accepting this riposte with a wry smile, Hideyoshi tilted the white fan diagonally from his armrest toward the candlelight and read: As we drink deeper into night The hue of sake As tales overflow The savor of men “How short the night” Who proclaims Springs inexhaustible The cup—

“Hanbei. Inscribe something on the back of this.” Adroitly deflecting, Hideyoshi entrusted it to Takenaka Hanbei. Hanbei took up the brush and wrote on the reverse side: “One evening’s talk with you / Surpasses ten years of book study.”

Having written this, "As it was my lord’s command, I have unavoidably defiled it." With that, he presented it.

Having suddenly taken hold of it, Kuroda Kanbei—his gaze fixed intently—began gradually dispelling the lingering haze of wine from his eyes as he gazed at it. He gently repositioned the still-damp white fan on the floor and, with both hands formally placed before him, turned to Shigeharu. “Thank you.” He bowed his head. While a smile like ripples in an abyss flickered at the corners of his eyes, Takenaka Shigeharu too— “The honor is mine.” —slid both hands from his knees in reciprocal gesture.

The night had already ended. In the depths of the temple quarters, the sound of the morning service bell resounded, while near the front gate, the horses in the stable neighed.

III

Since his business at Gifu Castle was concluded, Hideyoshi had apparently planned to return immediately to Odani Castle; however, he delayed his departure by two days for Kanbei’s sake and, as soon as permission arrived from Nobunaga, accompanied him to the castle.

The audience with Nobunaga was not an official one. As secret envoys, they met in utmost secrecy within a single room. Nobunaga, who was forty-two years old this year, appeared remarkably youthful. He looked younger than Hideyoshi. Only three individuals shared the chamber, and despite the sweltering midday heat, their audience stretched beyond two hours.

Kanbei argued. He argued from every perspective about the urgent necessity of conquering Chūgoku. He argued with unadorned sincerity—no embellishments, no sophistry—pouring forth nothing but genuine conviction. That fervor transformed into an eloquence surpassing even his own belief, until ultimately he grew oblivious to whether his listener stood among the nobility or not. “Were Your Lordship to dispatch a great commander now and graciously undertake this grand campaign against Chūgoku, even those under Mōri’s banner—like Kajiwara of Akashi Castle and Takasago Castle in eastern Harima—would surely prostrate themselves before your awe-inspiring majesty.” “Kushihashi Sakyō, lord of Shikata Castle, is fortunately connected to my house through marriage ties. I shall undoubtedly bring him to our cause.” “Only Bessho Nagaharu of Miki Castle will obstinately refuse submission.” “Moreover, in western Harima, clans like Fukuhara of Sayo Castle and the Kozuki of Kozuki Castle will likely ally with Bessho Nagaharu in devoted service to the Mōri... Yet among these castles great and small, Himeji Castle—occupying the most vital position—has already sworn before your very eyes to serve as vanguard for your cause. Thus when I declare that these swarming enemies pose no true threat, it is no empty boast.” “Needless to say, we of Himeji Castle stand fully resolved to offer it up for this purpose.” “Should you deign to use it as a base for your Chūgoku campaign, I shall present it to you without delay.”

Nobunaga openly rejoiced. Even his meticulous nature seemed to find no room to doubt Kanbei’s sincerity and fervor. "Very well—I will see to it properly," he declared. "In the near future, Himeji Castle will surely be put to great use. Until then, you shall keep hold of it." Then, "As a token of your service," he personally took the renowned sword "Presscutter" that lay at his side and bestowed it upon Kanbei. When we later consult the Kuroda Family Treasures Chronicle regarding this sword’s origins, it is recorded as follows.

The blade was crafted by Hasebe Kunishige, measuring 2 shaku, 1 sun, and 4 bu (approximately 63.6 cm). When Lord Nobunaga ordered the execution of a man called Kannaishū for misconduct, Kannaishū—terrified—hid beneath a meal shelf in the kitchen. His Lordship thrust the blade under the shelf and pressed down; without even feeling resistance in his hand, the steel pierced through, and Kannaishū perished. It is said this incident gave the blade its name, Presscutter—— “For now, return to Chugoku and await my orders. “When the time comes, I will certainly send word.” With Nobunaga’s pledge and the Presscutter blade in hand, Kanbei withdrew from the castle for the time being.

The castle grounds and town below were crowded this day as well with the coming and going of various generals and their troops and horses. It seemed that renowned figures such as Niwa, Takikawa, Shibata, Sassa, Akechi, and Maeda were also among them, but Kanbei did not speak to anyone other than Hideyoshi. “This one is also satisfied. With this, you too have now emerged from the abyss and stand at the precipice of stormy times. Crouching Dragon, I pray you will take utmost care of yourself.” Hideyoshi shared his joy and announced his immediate departure for northern Ōmi. He then suggested, “Why not come to Odani Castle yourself and stay a few days?”

“Let me accompany you part of the way.” Borrowing horses, Kuroda Kanbei and Kinugasa Kyūzaemon accompanied the Hashiba retinue, traveling together as far as Nagahama. Upon arriving in Nagahama, Hideyoshi visited Niwa Gorōzaemon there and borrowed two boats, “Rather than taking the sweltering overland route, it would be better if you were to pass through the heart of the lake by night and proceed to Ōtsu.” “The moon is lovely—I, Lord Chikuzen, shall accompany you part of the way while enjoying the cool.” With that, they loaded one boat with cooks and retainers, boarded the other with only Kanbei and himself, and departed the shore around dusk.

Just as the moon hung at its zenith, Kanbei and Hideyoshi’s boat reached the middle of Lake Biwa. They poured sake, admired the moon, and spoke of the future as they stayed up late into the night. When they eventually boarded separate boats and, upon parting, looked back at each other amidst the waves to wave farewell, Kanbei felt tears on his cheeks for the first time in his life. For some reason, tears flowed.

With death as his pillow,

I

The position of Araki Murashige in Settsu now held critical strategic importance. With Itami as his main castle, he had linked Amagasaki Castle and Hana no Kuma Castle in Hyōgo to form a chain of three fortresses, severing traffic between Chūgoku and Osaka while strictly monitoring communications between the Honganji Temple and other anti-Nobunaga elements with the Mōri clan. Moreover, should the day come when Nobunaga issued the order to conquer Chugoku, this land would also become the foremost front—a protruding salient serving as Oda’s forward base.

From this, one could understand how highly Nobunaga valued Murashige’s martial prowess and trusted his unyielding integrity. “Oh, if it isn’t Kanbei. “Why, pray tell, have you come here?” “Well now, how unexpected!”

When Araki Murashige received Kuroda Kanbei's visit, he promptly granted an audience but wore an intensely suspicious expression.

The location was needless to say the main keep of Itami Castle (which Murashige had renamed Arioka Castle), yet an air of restlessness pervaded the castle grounds—warriors preparing for deployment crowded the muster area while others dashed about through every gatehouse and along the corridors.

After offering a perfunctory greeting, "I have heard you will soon deploy to Hokuriku." “So it is. Since Lord Nobunaga himself will lead this campaign, we likely shall not return to our domains until we have utterly annihilated both the Ikkō sect fanatics in Hokuriku and the rebel factions manipulated by Uesugi Kenshin.” Murashige had the beautiful attendant at his side pour him wine and, after draining it, offered the cup toward Kanbei, "It has been quite some time—tell me, does your lord Kodera Masanori remain unchanged?"

he said with a faint sneer. In his demeanor, one could vaguely discern two contrasting elements—a prideful display of his current authority and a pitying contempt for the delusions and incompetence of those still clinging to power in a corner of Harima Province. "Yes. Lord Masanori remains in good health for the present." "Lord Masanori also remains in good health for the present." Kanbei wiped the rim of the cup with a square of fine paper and, returning it respectfully before Murashige, answered honestly. Yet in his heart, deeming Murashige a man far pettier than any cup, he instead found Murashige’s demeanor all the more lamentable.

The Kodera main house and Araki family maintained a long-standing relationship through various connections and obligations. Therefore, Kuroda Kanbei was well acquainted with both his character and conduct, as well as the circumstances that had led to his current position.

Murashige had originally been nothing more than a subordinate of Ikeda Katsumasa of the Ikeda clan. He had belonged to the Miyoshi faction, but when Nobunaga led his forces into Kyoto to expel Ashikaga Yoshiaki from the capital, he suddenly allied with the Oda army, taking to the urban battle with a mere four hundred troops under his command. In the battle between Honkoku-ji and Shichijo Dojo (Kinko-ji), he demonstrated remarkably daring feats. That marked the beginning of his service to the Oda clan.

Later, when he was invited to Gifu Castle and granted a feast alongside other generals, afterward—whether as part of Nobunaga’s customary revelry or with calculated intent to test Murashige’s mettle—Nobunaga stabbed a steamed bun with the tip of his sword, "Settsu. Will you eat this, or not?" he said. Then Murashige opened his mouth wide and stepped forward, (I humbly receive this.) and bit into and ate the steamed bun on the tip of the sword—so the story goes. In any case, such an act—viewed from Nobunaga’s perspective— (This one can be used) had been a factor in his being highly valued.

*He could be used.* This had apparently been one reason he was entrusted with important roles.

Even so, compared to his days as a subordinate of the Ikeda clan, his rise had been truly extraordinary. Even now, on the eve of deployment, with beautiful attendants flanking him left and right, he listened to military reports from his senior retainers over wine and granted approvals one by one—a scene that perfectly captured a man at the height of his influence. When he questioned Kanbei about his purpose and heard it, he laughed so heartily he nearly clutched his stomach. “Are you calling me a spy?” “Are you calling me a schemer now?” “Well now! This is truly the most amusing matter I’ve encountered in recent times.” “That a petty schemer of a spy like yourself has been granted Lord Nobunaga’s cherished blade ‘Heshikiri’ must surely strike you as most dubious indeed.” “For confirmation, would you be so kind as to take a look?”

“I’ve come having received the Heshikiri blade. “…Wh-where is it?” “It has been placed in the adjoining room.” “Have you truly been granted it?” “To receive such a cherished blade requires extraordinary military achievements. As for this honor being bestowed upon a provincial retainer like yourself, I cannot help but wonder how you intend to answer for it.”

“Hmm.” Murashige crossed his arms grandly. Though he had nearly discerned Kanbei’s mission, he found himself unable to avoid contemplating Hashiba Hideyoshi’s involvement in the matter. “Though my lord Kodera Masanori and our humble castle at Gochaku may appear insignificant in the eyes of our Oda allies—whereas these three fortresses at Itami, Amagasaki, and Hanakuma have traditionally formed the front line against the Chugoku region—from this day forward, Oda forces will establish strategic spearheads and operational bases deep within enemy territory at Himeji and Gochaku in Harima Province. This matter, if I may speak boldly, will serve as the initial foothold for accomplishing great deeds in Chugoku. I humbly pray that Lord Settsu no Kami might also find satisfaction in this understanding. Though I recognize this may seem presumptuous, precisely because our Kodera family and the Araki family must henceforth unite wholeheartedly under the same banner and purpose—and taking advantage of my homeward journey—I sought the honor of this audience to bring these matters to your esteemed attention.”

—At once, he slid all the way across the seat and bent his body,

"I apologize for disturbing you during your busy time." "Then, I shall take my leave now." With that, he took up the sheathed prized sword he had placed in the adjoining room and briskly withdrew from Itami Castle. And he would occasionally recall Murashige’s expression afterward and smile bitterly.

II

After his departure, Gochaku Castle enveloped these two dispositions—those who desperately hoped he would not return alive and those who prayed for his safe return—while outwardly spending the summer with apparent nonchalance.

Defying the expectations of seventy percent of the castle's inhabitants, Kuroda Kanbei returned in far better health than when he had departed. "I believe it would be appropriate to report that the negotiations with the Gifu faction have concluded largely successfully."

He immediately reported each and every detail to his lord, Masanori. He also gave a thorough report to the principal members from the family elders downward.

Yet immediately, even at that very meeting, members of the opposition faction—Masuda Magoemon, Murai Kawachi, and others—began speaking in unison: “Only from our side have we provided verbal commitments—what kind of written oath did you bring back from the Oda clan?” “What good are mere verbal promises in this war-torn land?” “Moreover, though the Oda army shows no immediate intent to deploy to Chugoku, you rashly pledge our allegiance—what do you intend to do if Oda suffers defeat in their ongoing Hokuriku campaign?”

Such denunciations continued to rage unabated. On this point, a look of unease could still be discerned on Masanori’s face. However, since meeting Nobunaga and Hideyoshi, Kanbei’s resolve had grown twice as strong—he now appeared to pay no heed whatsoever to the myriad petty criticisms around him.

“Please leave this matter to me. Regarding this current affair—did you not solemnly pledge before my departure to entrust all decisions to this unworthy Kanbei? As Kanbei, I believe without doubt that this mission has sufficiently achieved its initial purpose.” He paused, then continued sharply: “You express dissatisfaction over my failure to bring a written oath from the Oda Clan. Yet when we have shown them neither tangible achievements nor service—not even a shred of loyalty—how could we expect Lord Oda to grant such an oath lightly? With all due disrespect—might I call you frogs in a well?—you seem to harbor delusions of grandeur when comparing our standing to the central situation and the Oda Clan’s power.”

Having thus admonished them, he concluded, “It is evident that henceforth, our house stands as a fortress under Oda’s banner. While external dealings with the Mōri faction may be unavoidable, internal disputes between the two factions must be refrained from." "Our lord holds the crucial position of serving under Lord Oda while awaiting the opportune moment in Chugoku—you must not forget this."

he solemnly declared.

However, within a few days, dozens of retainers immediately disappeared from Gochaku Castle. They were all deserters from the castle, and it was abundantly clear without need for investigation that every last one had fled to Mōri territory. Consequently, no matter how they strove to maintain secrecy, the fact that he had served as envoy to finally bind their liege house, the Kodera clan, to the Oda clan became utterly exposed to their enemy Mōri Terumoto. The surrounding castles, suddenly struck by great alarm, began keeping vigilant watch over this solitary stronghold.

What became most dangerous of all was Kanbei’s very life. Not all those who harbored sympathies for the Mōri faction had deserted the castle. Even among the elders and clan members within Gochaku, anti-Nobunaga factions still existed, and there were not a few individuals colluding with Mōri. He could not let his guard down even while sleeping. Night after night, he slept with death as his pillow. Afterward, the Oda army devoted all their efforts solely to the Hokuriku campaign from autumn through early winter, and it seemed they had no time whatsoever to turn their attention to Chugoku. Moreover, the Mōri faction, deeming Gochaku and Himeji as heretics,

"Deeming it 'a critical matter that cannot be left unattended,' and reasoning that now—while Nobunaga remained preoccupied elsewhere—was precisely the time to strike, they swiftly loaded more than a dozen warships with troops from Yoshida in Aki Province and advanced from the coastal areas near Himeji."

This landing was carried out on a moonless night in the spring of Tenshō 4, after the turn of the year. Upon receiving word by swift horse, a small contingent of soldiers from Himeji Castle hastily rushed to defend, but they were no match for the elite Mōri forces and were swiftly repelled. By morning, thick plumes of battle smoke rose from one end of Himeji town, and the figures of Mōri vanguard troops—fighting their way through every intersection—could be seen everywhere as the crisis engulfed the entire castle town.

Iron Wall

I

That morning, Kuroda Kanbei, who was at Gochaku Castle, already knew of the disturbance in Himeji the moment he awoke. The lookout who had been standing atop the watchtower all night hurriedly came rushing down,

“There appears to be unusual smoke in Himeji’s skies,” came the report—before dawn’s first messenger had even reached the castle gates. “Good!” he barked. “Maintain watch. Report any anomalies at once.” While opening his armor chest to don his ancestral indigo-laced cuirass, he simultaneously turned toward the samurai quarters to rally his core retainers. “Morita Tahei—present? Kuriyama Zensuke! Inoue Kurō! Gotō Emon—attend me! Summon Miyata, Nagata, Mihara, Kitamura and others if absent from their posts—all to the wide veranda!”

One after another, they answered and rose. They split off and rushed away. In an instant, thirteen or fourteen of his handpicked stalwarts had gathered on the wide veranda. “They’re here at last!” With his usual morning face beaming there, Kanbei tied the cords of his armor while— “According to the urgent missive from my father Sōen in Himeji that had just arrived, the Mōri forces numbered approximately two to three thousand.” “Craftily landing from the sea before dawn, the enemy had indeed carried out a surprise attack.” “Though Himeji town had suffered enemy arson, my father’s written words assure us: ‘The Himeyama compound—though small—remains unshaken. Do not fret.’ Truly, while I had thought age had taken its toll on him in ordinary times, in such moments he still proves bolder even than Kanbei himself!”

With a cheerful laugh, he let out a chuckle before swiftly and clearly issuing commands to each retainer one by one, then immediately pivoted and dashed to his lord Kodera Masanori's chambers.

II Surrounding Masanori were not only Ogawa Mikawanokami of the clan, elder statesman Kuramitsu Masatoshi, Masuda Magouemon, and others from factions habitually at odds with Kanbei—all already gathered in close formation—but even those below Masanori were fully armed. At this, even Kanbei wore a look of surprise,

(How did these people learn of this sudden crisis before I did?) Yet while this suspicion was natural, what appeared in Masanori's eyes when Kanbei met his gaze—a confusion and self-reproach that might be called an answer—was an implication Kanbei could not disregard. (My intuition wasn't off the mark—) Trusting his own resolve, Kanbei immediately issued commands here too, exactly as he intended.

“Masuda Magouemon, Murai Kawachi, Eda Zenbei.” “Each of you must immediately lead your forces and rush to Himeji’s urgent relief.” “Kuramitsu Masatoshi, being elderly, should guard the inner bailey.” “Lord Sueyoshi Chika, go outside the castle and take charge of communications with the Himeji entrance—” “As for the rest, I have commanded my men and already assigned them to their respective positions.” “Do not be remiss.” “Make haste at once!” Then Sueyoshi Chika indignantly refused the command. “What nonsense is this, Chief Retainer?” “How could we veteran commanders possibly abandon our lord’s side? We shall firmly defend both the castle gates and our lord’s person.” “There should be others for Himeji’s urgent relief.”

“There are none.” “What?!” “Kanbei cannot leave your lord’s side even for a moment. Though we speak of Gochaku Castle’s full garrison, there are fewer than a thousand men. Excluding those under my command, where else in this castle could troops be found unless we appoint your lordships as generals and your unit leaders as lieutenants?” “Why do you yourself not take position at the front? Himeji is where your father Lord Sōen stands guard as castellan. Within these very walls, many subordinates breathe under the influence of you and your father.”

This was a statement that none but Ogawa Mikawanokami of the clan could have made. However, Kuroda Kanbei answered this as well with a face that showed no sign of intimidation. "The situation is urgent. The castle gates' defenses are already manned by my forces, and every critical point of this main keep has been secured entirely at Kanbei's discretion. This one’s orders are our lord’s command. The lord’s command is one with Lord Oda’s military orders. No matter who they are—anyone who disobeys must be imprisoned until this battle concludes. Now then—who dares violate military discipline in today’s battle? Step forward and state your names! They will be resolutely executed."

Everyone fell silent. Yet the battle enveloping Kanbei raged with such intensity within these very walls that it might have surpassed whatever conflict brewed outside the castle. Whether he perceived the encircling presence watching for any weakness remained uncertain. Kanbei delivered his ultimatum with martial severity, then took another deliberate step forward until he stood directly before Masanori,

“Under the turret in the wide plaza, we set up your camp stools and surrounded them with battle curtains.” “Your elite guard’s security preparations are complete.” “Please move your seat swiftly to that camp station.” He urged—no, taking his lord by the hand and drawing close—they passed beneath piercing stares from both sides and emerged into the garden.

III Loud shouts rang out incessantly from the watchtower above. They continuously relayed moment-by-moment updates about Himeji's situation downward.

By this time, the sun had finally broken through the morning clouds, faintly illuminating the surroundings.

The camp stool area in the wide courtyard was secured by about fifty castle soldiers under Muroki Saihachi, a samurai squad leader, and Imazu Gendayu, a logistics officer. In this position, virtually none suspected of covertly supporting the Mōri faction were permitted to approach. Moreover, under Kuroda Kanbei’s orders, veteran commanders including Kuramitsu Masatoshi, Masuda Magouemon, and Murai Kawachi—despite their reluctance—had been compelled to exit the castle. These were dangerous allies secretly conspiring with the Mōri faction. To each of their units, Kanbei had beforehand assigned his most trusted stalwarts like Morita Tahei and Kuriyama Zensuke individually, instructing them that should any suspicious action arise, they were to immediately cross blades with their respective commanders and die fighting.

"First, the organization within our allies has been settled, but..." Kanbei took one of the brown rice balls distributed by the provisions unit and stood outside the camp curtains of the stool area, munching away. When he thought back on it now, that critical moment at dawn had truly been a precarious situation, and he let out a belated sigh of relief. "No—it’s still too soon to relax. The battle has only just begun." He immediately admonished himself inwardly. Then he used his lips to pick up and finish eating the rice grains clinging to his fingers. At that moment, Goto Uemon—the trusted retainer he had first dispatched that morning on a reconnaissance mission toward the mountains—returned sweating profusely with a horsewhip in hand.

After delivering his report, he addressed Kuroda Kanbei. “Just as you anticipated, approximately three hundred troops under Bessho Nagaharu of Miki Castle have infiltrated about two ri beyond our northern borders and are lurking in the forests and mountains there, lying in wait for a collusion signal from within Gochaku Castle.” “As for other areas along the western border near Ukita Castle, no abnormalities have been observed. However, should they see smoke rising from this castle indicating some disturbance, it would be impossible to predict how they might move.”

“What about the follow-up measures?” “In accordance with your command, Kitamura Rokue has led 150 troops to monitor the movements of the Miki forces, Nagata Sansuke has taken 70 men to vigilantly guard the other borders, and Mihara Hayato has deployed foot soldiers to handle communications along the route.”

“Good.” “You stand here.” “Guard the camp stools.”

Kuroda Kanbei turned and climbed to the watchtower's summit. That morning, his single form seemed inadequate—as if multiple bodies couldn't meet the demands placed upon him. Standing there gazing toward Himeji, he saw black smoke billowing so thickly it dimmed the morning sun. The northern mountains basked under a pristine sky, yet to his eyes, every cloud-shadowed ridge and valley crevice clearly harbored graver threats. In Harima Province, none declared Mōri allegiance more boldly than Bessho Nagaharu's clan—entrenched at Miki Castle in northern hinterlands. That night's events proved it: Mōri's naval forces had pressed against Himeji's shores until landing, while Miki's mountain troops advanced in concert—a meticulously coordinated land-sea campaign needing no elaboration.

The enemy must have believed they could crush them in one strike when they came. They must have believed that capturing Gochaku Castle would not require even half a day. For not only did this castle possess meager troops and defenses, but there were also influential Mōri collaborators within its walls who required no external assault to compromise it. "How fares Father at Himeyama?" "And Matsuchiyo remains so young." Gazing at the sky thick with war's black smoke, even he could not help but worry about his elderly father's safety and the welfare of his wife and children. And he agonized over the desperate struggles of his loyal retainers and vassals there.

When he came down from the watchtower, he unexpectedly ran into Kinugasa Kyūzaemon right away. Of course, Kyūzaemon had galloped from Himeji. Finding this unexpected, Kanbei asked reproachfully: “Why did you abandon Himeji and come here? They must be in the midst of a fierce battle now. If that position falls, this place too will face imminent peril. Your place to die lies elsewhere—or so it should.” “No,” came the reply, “Lord Sōen vehemently commanded that Gochaku was the true concern—that Himeji stood secure—and ordered me to see for myself. Thus I spurred my horse to report the battle situation and inquire about this castle’s condition.”

“Tell Father there is no need for concern here—convey this to him firmly. Kanbei is Sōen’s son.” “Understood.” “Go, go. This place stands as you see it. An iron wall.” “Understood! Then—” As he turned to leave, Kanbei called him back once more. “Are the town militia group members holding their ground? Is Reishukō’s Iguchi Yojiemon unharmed?” “They are all fighting fiercely.”

“I see. Then that should suffice for now.”

Seeing him nod, Kinugasa Kyūzaemon turned and made his way back to Himeji.

IV

The assault on Himeji carried out by Ura Hyōbu no Jō, a naval commander of the Mōri clan, succeeded in landing but ended in a crushing defeat in battle.

The street fighting extended into the night. Moreover, they remained confined to a corner of the city, their advance completely halted. Kuroda Sōen of Himeyama not only wielded his aged frame to personally take command at the front lines, but his subordinates—all strong and well-trained—resolved that now was the time to repay their lord’s usual benevolence and threw themselves recklessly at the enemy. Though the Mōri forces were initially staggered by the defenders' ferocious hostility, their greater struggle stemmed from having failed to realize that Himeji's castle town possessed an entirely different nature compared to those of other domains.

The moment they came under enemy invasion, every last one of the castle townsfolk transformed into soldiers—preventing fires, evacuating the elderly and children, and grasping whatever weapons they could find to confront the Mōri forces. When Ura Hyōbu no Jō, leading the assault, collided with this unexpected military force for the first time, he could only think: "What is this?" Ura Hyōbu no Jō was thrown into such confusion that [he...]. Iguchi Yojiemon, who hung the Reishukō eye medicine signboard throughout the town, had in an instant shed his usual shopkeeper’s demeanor to reveal the bearing of a seasoned warrior as the veteran leader of the so-called “town militia group,” evoking memories of bygone days.

Moreover, dozens of others like him lived throughout the town. No, they were not only in the town—they were also in the coastal fishing villages.

Though they had no formal naval forces to speak of—no fleets or organized marine units—the Bayside Folk's contingent launched countless fishing boats under cover of night, approached the Mōri vessels anchored offshore with hawsers tied together, set them ablaze, and burned them down. Since only sailors and supply personnel had been left aboard the ships, the battlefield here was completely overrun by Kuroda's "Bayside Folk"—several vessels burned and sank, while the remaining ships fled in panic far out to sea.

Needless to say, the flames at sea utterly shattered the fighting spirit of Ura Hyōbu no Jō on land. The rout began in that very instant. The scattered Ura forces fled in disarray toward the highway leading to Miki Castle, but by then, Kuroda Kanbei himself—having departed Gochaku Castle—and his most trusted retainers had already positioned elite troops in ambush at every key point. Whether on roads, fields, or forests, they intercepted the routed enemy at every turn and nearly annihilated them all.

“……It’s done.”

It was at dawn after that night had broken when Sōen and Kanbei—father and son—heaved a deep sigh of relief and exchanged unharmed faces amidst a flood of emotions.

“The immediate crisis has been averted,” Kanbei said. “...But next time, the enemy will likely come at us with even greater resolve. Please rest well now.” After offering only a brief word of reassurance to his aged father, he immediately turned back toward Gochaku. He departed without seeing Matsuchiyo’s face or confirming his wife’s safety. Though Gochaku Castle and the Himeji residence stood a mere ri apart, in this family the wife saw her husband, and the child met his father perhaps once every six months—if at all.

Design Plans: Part Two

I

Since the start of this New Year, Nobunaga had commenced the construction of Azuchi Castle. His engineering projects mirrored his approach to warfare. The grand scale and innovative conception were not anyone else’s design but his own creation. Gathering collective wisdom yet surpassing it, breaking free from Higashiyama-style conventions, achieving monumental scale and magnificent splendor—it sufficed to command the realm’s attention. Moreover, construction advanced with such urgency that day and night blurred together. In less than a year since groundbreaking, the basic framework stood completed on a lakeside hill, while sprawling mulberry fields and farmlands transformed into a new castle town.

The construction overseers were managed by Niwa Nagahide, Akechi Mitsuhide, and others. Today as well, he had come up promptly from Kuwa no Mi Temple at the base of the mountain and— “Is my residence still not ready? At least have them finish the seven-story castle keep with total effort—make them hurry on that alone.” he impatiently pressed them while inspecting the battlefield-like construction site.

Niwa Gorōzaemon Nagahide, who always guided him, could not remain composed. "As you see, we press them day and night with total effort," he could only say. Since the seven-story keep on the main tower base formed the heart of the entire structure, this construction demanded utmost caution, while Nobunaga's exacting specifications posed considerable challenges. The underground first floor served as storage. The second floor stood with 280 pillars total, spanning a frontage of 20 ken and depth of 17 ken. This space was partitioned into numerous rooms: a twelve-tatami study followed by a four-tatami room, northern and southern thirty-two-tatami chambers, an eight-tatami room, an eastern twenty-tatami hall, another eight-tatami space, and a three-tatami waiting area. Transoms and wall partitions were fully lacquered, while sliding doors bore masterful paintings by Kano Eitoku and other era-defining artists—works worthy of chambers named Goose Chamber, Hibiscus Chamber, Ink-Plum Chamber, and Distant Temple Evening Bell Chamber.

As one ascended from the third-story tower to the fourth, fifth, and sixth tiers, the number of rooms diminished—yet the craftsmanship of their construction grew ever more exquisite, with each tier revealing a distinct aesthetic character.

“Gorōzaemon.” “By New Year’s, we should be able to drink toso here.” Nobunaga had set up a camp stool in the third-floor corridor where not even sliding doors had yet been installed, already indulging in the sweeping views of Seta, Hira, and the entire lake surface while adopting a tone that seemed intent on extracting a firm deadline commitment from Nagahide. Nagahide appeared at a loss but— “It should be ready by New Year’s...” he blurted out, “Though we speak of the New Year of Tenshō 5, it is already nearly upon us.” “We retainers too look forward to serving at the freshly hewn dais and receiving New Year’s congratulatory cups.”

And so, he ended up promising—albeit unintentionally—to complete it by that date. Admittedly, there was a reason Nobunaga pressed so urgently. He had already transferred Gifu Castle to his son Nobutada at the beginning of this Eleventh Month and moved to Kuwanomi Temple in Azuchi, bringing only a few personal effects and a set of tea utensils. It was, so to speak, a modest dwelling—borrowed temple quarters. He did not want to spend the New Year at that temple—and in fact, it likely would not come to pass.

With this desperate last-stand pressure being applied, Magistrate Nagahide found that each time Nobunaga came to inspect—the time spent standing in dutiful attendance to guide him was, in truth, so vexingly wasteful that he begrudged every moment. However, today proved opportune when “Lord Hashiba has arrived from Nagahama, my lord.” A messenger announced this before His Lordship. Seizing the favorable timing, Nagahide withdrew and departed, exchanging a silent nod with Hashiba Hideyoshi who had come to take his place.

II

Last year, after the Hokuriku campaign had ended, Hideyoshi had moved from Odani Castle to Nagahama Castle. Embracing the great lake, Azuchi and Nagahama—lord and vassal had come to reside on the same shore. “Hideyoshi? When did you arrive?” “I have only just arrived. The construction has progressed quite a bit, hasn’t it?” “How is Nagahama? Is it comfortable to live in?” “It’s almost too grand for my station.” “I hear you’ve summoned your mother to the castle as well. They say you’re quite the filial son—not what one would expect from your looks.”

“Being a country fellow, ever since moving to Nagahama, I’ve been utterly astonished.” “I thought she would be delighted, but not so much—she’s been living with a somewhat troubled look.” “I’ve brought a small amount of produce from the garden that my elderly mother planted as a humble gift.” “Produce from the garden...” “Yes, my peasant mother says that neglecting farm work makes her body unwell, so even after moving to Nagahama, she continues to cultivate the castle’s fields and grow various crops.”

“That’s commendable.” “I’ll gratefully accept it.” “Well, show me then.” “No, as you were coming to the construction site, I left that at Kuwanomi Temple’s kitchen.” "...Now then—" With that, he once again looked up at Nobunaga’s face and,

“There’s… a small matter I wish to discuss…” “I see,” Nobunaga responded, immediately grasping the implication. He turned to the attendants flanking him and—

“Go downstairs.”

And—he ordered the attendants cleared from the room.

"—Lord Chikuzen." "What is it?" "Regarding Kuroda Kanbei of the Chugoku region—"

“Hm. That one?” “He seems to be struggling.” “What’s he doing?”

“The Mōri Clan’s pressure, neighboring domains’ schemes—he appears utterly isolated without support.” “That was his resolve from the outset.” “Naturally. “Yet through this letter, he repeatedly states his profound regret: those who had schemed to decisively settle matters via the Oda army’s westward advance were instead forestalled by the Mōri clan—thereby enabling them to strengthen Harima Province and grant our enemies time to prepare defenses.” “Is this a plea for reinforcements?”

“Amidst all this, I must say I deeply admire how well they are persevering. “Around February this year, and again in late May, the Mōri clan’s naval forces launched assaults on Himeji in one swift move to root out the dissidents within, but both times, through the Kuroda father and son’s valiant efforts, they were successfully repelled.” “This matter was previously reported to you, and as my lord bestowed a letter of commendation accordingly—” “So now he comes claiming he can no longer sustain his position?” “Given that man’s strong aversion to admitting defeat, he does not say so explicitly—but unless troops are dispatched to Chugoku a single moment later, all of Harima will ultimately form an impregnable stronghold under Mōri’s coercion and schemes, and…”

“Ha ha ha ha…” Nobunaga burst out laughing,

“He’s finally come wailing for aid, has he?” “No, it could not be helped.” Hideyoshi persisted in shielding the father and son’s precarious position. “From your noble house’s vantage too—that solitary rock stands as our sole ally in all Chugoku, where every soul not foe is phantom.” “We must not suffer them to die.”

“But we cannot deploy our great army to save Kuroda Kanbei and his son.” “As for Chugoku, I cannot approach it as I did building Azuchi.” “I understand your position.” “Therefore, each time, I have sent them thoughtful replies explaining that the situation in Kinki is not yet opportune.” “I strive to console them by saying the opportune moment approaches—to wait a little longer, to endure—but if you would but once leave them your word, my lord, I believe they, the father and son, would redouble their sincere loyalty and await the day of your western campaign.”

“I do not entirely dismiss that notion, but understand this—the Kuroda father and son remain retainers of Kodera Masanori. Even within the Kodera house itself, there are still those who refuse obedience to him and secretly favor the Mōri clan. Trust cannot be easily granted. Before my written pledge arrives, should not the Kodera clan first send a hostage to our house?” “Precisely. Your decree embodies perfect reason. Should you graciously dispatch your missive demanding a hostage at once, we shall assuredly have one delivered.”

“Come to the temple.” “We’ll have them boil those vegetables your mother cultivated—let’s deliberate further over drinks.” Nobunaga rose from the camp stool and strode ahead down the lacquered veranda steps, their surface still exuding the resinous scent of fresh urushi.

Hostage

I

As Tenshō 5 gave way to the new year, Nobunaga’s vermilion-sealed missive formally demanded a hostage from the Kodera clan. As for Kanbei, since Hideyoshi had sent him a private letter informing him of this matter in advance, he had taken it for granted; however, his liege lord Kodera Masanori— "What should I do?" Even when faced with a problem of this scale, he displayed bewilderment on his face and consulted his council. Of course, this stemmed partly from the lingering air of reluctance toward an alliance with the Oda Clan that still persisted among the clan family and senior retainers—but another reason lay in the parental anguish over Kodera’s heir Ujitsuna: a sickly child and unworthy successor deemed unfit to present to the world.

“There is no need for concern.” At the council meeting, Kanbei declared in his usual forthright tone. “Regarding Lord Ujitsuna’s frail condition, I had already apprised Lord Hashiba of this matter. Lord Nobunaga would surely never demand you offer up an ailing hostage. In place of your heir, I shall send my own son Matsuchiyo—though he is but ten years old this year—as the hostage. By substituting Matsuchiyo for this purpose, Your Lordship will assuredly have no cause for distress regarding this matter.”

His bold declarations were never empty words. The act of substituting his own child for his lord’s moved not a few of those present to deep emotion.

Even the elder retainers who always took an opposing stance, “We fully comprehend Lord Kanbei’s sentiments, but if you would proceed accordingly…” the elders all reached unanimous agreement. Kanbei couldn’t help but smile wryly at the realization that this was the first time in Mikazuki Castle’s history that a council meeting had reached such a swift and agreeable decision.

But Kanbei was no ordinary man. He did not readily send the hostage immediately. Since then, he and Hideyoshi had exchanged correspondence several times. Of course, this was to obtain a firm commitment for an immediate western campaign. Letters from Hideyoshi were always filled with goodwill and sincerity, (I too am hurrying that matter. I have constantly strived to advise before you, and through these efforts, it appears Lord Nobunaga's intentions have finally begun to solidify. If we send a hostage now, it will amplify the effect even further. The only concern is that even now, the enemy seems to be actively spreading rumors and slander to sow discord. Your rock-solid resolve is precisely what we rely on most.)

he wrote, and in another letter on one occasion, "We regard you as no different from our younger brother Shōichirō (Hashiba Hidenaga), and thus feel at ease in our dealings. Whatever matters others may bring forth, we shall discuss them directly with you and see them resolved properly." He had even gone so far as to write that. (A brother... You regard me as no different from your brother Shōichirō.) Hideyoshi’s attitude toward Kanbei had at some point become thus. As for Kanbei, no matter what hardships he might face, he had resolved never to oppose Hideyoshi alone.

II

“I’ll get to see Miyako!” “I’ll get to see Azuchi!”

As he said this, watching ten-year-old Matsuchiyo bustle about excitedly preparing for the journey, his young mother and grandfather Sōen could no longer hold back their tears. The matter was finally settled in September of that year when they sent this precious child as a hostage.

“I’m off now, Mother.” “Grandfather, I’ll be going now.” In the boy’s eyes there was only a heart that delighted in the journey ahead. It was truly a mirthful sight. He put on his straw sandals, fastened his sword at his waist, and took up his hat. Such travel attire gallantly stirred the boy’s dreams. He paid no heed to the tearful farewells from nursemaids who had cared for him since infancy, from retainers—or even from his own mother—as he hurried onward. He mounted his horse at the castle gate. His delicate figure wrung even more tears from those seeing him off.

How many hostages sent to distant lands as political pledges were ever safely returned? The retainers accompanying him to Azuchi numbered no more than four or five. There was concern he might be intercepted and captured by enemy hands along the way. Yet among those preparing ships at Shikama Beach waited men of proven fortitude, and should they reach Hyogo Port, his father Kanbei would be there awaiting them. For Kanbei, rather than dwell on sending one child, he bent his strategic mind toward welcoming tens of thousands of Oda troops and their commander to Harima Province. He believed with utter conviction that this vision would materialize at no other time than now.

He hurried along the land route alone on horseback, met with Araki Murashige to inquire about the situation in the Kinai region, and discussed various preparations for the Chugoku campaign. Then, hiding in a fishing village at Hyogo Port, he waited for his child to arrive.

It was the end of September.

The Long-Awaited Day

I

The autumn scenery of Azuchi had transformed completely from what it had been the previous year. The keep had already been completed, and the castle town surrounding its eight towers and ten gates was nearly finished taking on the appearance of a grand metropolis of new culture. Matsuchiyo, who had arrived here with his father, stared wide-eyed. Compared to Himeji's modest castle, even through the boy's eyes, Azuchi Castle's overwhelming grandeur and splendor left him gaping in awe. But this boy too possessed the makings of Kuroda Nagamasa, the man he would become. Accompanied by his father Kanbei, he never once behaved shamefully when presented before Azuchi's vassals or granted an audience with Nobunaga. He answered every question clearly with unflinching composure.

“He has even more handsome features than his father Kanbei.” “He appears to take after his mother.” “He seems to have a steady temperament.” “A fine, well-mannered child.” “He has quite some commendable traits.”

Nobunaga said repeatedly. Moreover, regarding the sincerity shown in promptly bringing the hostage he had initially regarded with some doubt, one could discern that Nobunaga had come to reaffirm Kuroda Kanbei’s complete lack of duplicity and appeared to be offering high praise. Of course, Hideyoshi was also present on this day. Once the formal exchange of hostages concluded, a banquet was subsequently held in the Twelve-Mat Western Plum Chamber. This meal signified a farewell between the child becoming a hostage and the parent entrusting their child before returning home—a parting until an unknowable day of reunion—and for these flesh-and-blood father and son, it must have been an occasion laden with boundless emotion.

Therefore, those seated at the table—from Nobunaga downward—were limited to a very few. At the table, Nobunaga declared: “The campaign to subjugate the Chugoku region—I will surely see it through in the near future. At that time, I will have Chikuzen take command. You and Chikuzen must work closely together in all matters to see this through.” When he heard this, Kanbei felt that parting with his child was no longer a matter of concern. Having received this pledge directly from Nobunaga—the culmination of his lifelong ambition—he could no longer suppress the burning in his eyelids, as though its realization were already before him. Furthermore, Nobunaga also,

“You and Lord Chikuzen are what they call compatible.” “You’ve shared ties from the beginning—sworn brothers who’d die for one another.” “The hostage Matsuchiyo shall be entrusted to Lord Chikuzen’s keeping.” “With him raised under Lord Chikuzen’s care, you may rest assured.”

With this, he showed consideration. “I am deeply grateful.”

Kuroda Kanbei knew no other words to say than those. His awe of Nobunaga felt heightened with each meeting. The affection and respect he felt toward Hideyoshi struck at the very core of the warrior’s creed of “to die for one who knows me,” but toward Nobunaga, he thought, “As expected, my foresight was not mistaken.” He felt as though he had climbed a mountain only to find no disappointment in it, but rather now coming to fully appreciate its beauty and height—a sensation that affirmed, “The expectations I had placed in this man have not been betrayed.”

That being said, of course, mountains have their precipices. There are valleys. Nobunaga's difficult temperament, his unfathomable capriciousness, his irritability and selfishness—Kanbei was well aware of these very human shortcomings. Yet Hideyoshi always stood between them as mediator, skillfully reconciling both sides while explaining "such aspects of his lordship's disposition," making matters genuinely easier for Kanbei. And still, none of these shortcomings appeared as flaws in Nobunaga.

II

He remained within Azuchi Castle for two days. On the morning of the third day, Kuroda Kanbei bid farewell to Nobunaga, and Hashiba Hideyoshi also departed for Nagahama with the hostage.

Takenaka Shigeharu, who had come with Hideyoshi, had been looking after Matsuchiyo since the previous day. As Shigeharu was about to take his leave, “By Lord Hideyoshi’s order, your son will be entrusted to my care at Bodaisan Castle in my homeland of Mino,” he said. “Though it may be a rural area, in terms of safety, I believe there is little cause for concern.” Kuroda Kanbei thanked him sincerely from the heart, yet— “Oh, I’ve caused you unexpected trouble,” he replied. “In your homeland, receiving the Takenaka family’s esteemed guidance would be the finest training for him. However, regarding the customs of this world and Matsuchiyo’s life, I ask that you show him no special protection whatsoever—please consider him solely as one who exists to fulfill your lord’s commands. No matter the circumstances, no matter what may come to pass, I shall never harbor a parent’s heart that resents you.”

and spoke of his own resolve. They parted, pledging that their reunion in Chugoku would soon come to pass.

Hideyoshi and his retainers returned to Nagahama by ship. It was a roofed boat that floated out from the lakeside sluice gate onto the lake.

At that very moment, Kuroda Kanbei had also left the town of Azuchi and was walking westward along the lakeside pine row.

The attendant samurai called out, “Ah, Lord Chikuzen is waving his fan.” At this prompting, Kanbei reined in his horse and stared intently. The crimson sun emblem on the fan was waving vividly. Matsuchiyo was also visible beside him. Takenaka Shigeharu was also visible.

Kuroda Kanbei also waved his hand in response. Looking back, though the towering gilded battlements of Azuchi Castle indeed embodied Tenka Fubu's grandeur—the very essence of "Rule by Force"—still, nothing gripped his heart more profoundly in that moment than the single crimson-emblazoned fan waving distantly across the waters. No matter what, Hideyoshi's approach was always tempered with compassion. Could one subjugate people through martial might, he wondered, or bind hearts through empathy? If Hideyoshi ever united both qualities—Kanbei secretly imagined—what might he achieve?

On his return journey, Kuroda Kanbei abandoned both his attendants and horse and detoured from Tanba to San'in. This was to carry out the secret plan formed during the two days he had just spent with Hideyoshi in Azuchi.

In the San'in region, the Amago clan's faction lay hidden in various places, biding their time for the right moment. While their forces could be considered meager, the conflict between the Amago clan and the Mōri family had persisted since the Daiei era when Mōri Motonari seized the territories of Amago Tsunehisa—a struggle that had continued unabated for over fifty long years, with the Amago clan waging their campaign to overthrow the Mōri through successive generations. Without territory or a single castle, and though lacking large armies or military resources, the Amago masterless samurai persevered in their spirit, sought revenge through every manner of surprise attack, and remained a force that continued to plague the Mōri clan. And the one striving to summon days of turmoil in San’in by supporting Amago Katsuhisa—a descendant of Tsunehisa—was none other than Yamanaka Shikanosuke Yukimori, Katsuhisa’s military pillar.

Between Yamanaka Shikanosuke Yukimori and Azuchi, a line of communication had already been established. This too had not been formed directly but rather through Akechi Mitsuhide and Hosokawa Fujitaka, who were active in the Tanba region, creating a secret pact for future cooperation. Now, since Hideyoshi had long recognized the importance of this faction—having met Kanbei in Azuchi and sensing that Nobunaga’s intentions were nearly settled— ("Wouldn’t it be better if you were to meet with Yamanaka Shikanosuke Yukimori once and fully align your intentions?")

he had implied. Naturally, Kuroda Kanbei was thoroughly informed about that front's situation; yet since Hideyoshi had spoken thus, he felt certain the day of their Chugoku campaign must indeed be approaching. Therefore, he abruptly changed his plans to return to Himeji and instead traveled alone to San'in using only his own legs. Moreover, countless strategies filled his mind. He felt that even with multiple bodies, they would prove insufficient to execute them all. In an appearance nearly indistinguishable from a wandering masterless samurai, he rushed about for approximately one month.

He met with Amago Katsuhisa and held thorough discussions with Yamanaka Shikanosuke Yukimori. He also traveled around Tajima, Hōki, and Harima provinces, visiting the scattered branch families of the old Akamatsu clan. (The realm will surely move in this way. —and the future of the realm must also be thus.) he went about fervently advocating his own conviction. Boldly, he went to meet even Bessho Nagaharu at Miki Castle with that conviction. Miki Castle had long stood as a veritable standard-bearer for the Mōri alliance, its anti-Nobunaga banner raised with unmistakable clarity—but Kuroda Kanbei’s impassioned convictions and earnest entreaties ultimately moved its lord, Nagaharu, to [agree]—

“If there be no falsehood in these so-called ambitions of the Oda clan, then when Hideyoshi marches westward, we may serve as one wing of their forces.” He returned having secured even this verbal agreement. The Bessho family was a cadet branch of the Akamatsu clan, as was the Kodera family. They shared close blood ties. The so-called Akamatsu lineage extended to as many as thirty-six houses in the Chugoku region alone. Though he had never spoken of it until now, should a great crisis arise, he could readily persuade half those thirty-six houses to join his cause and summon forth an entirely new faction—this was one of the stratagems he had long nurtured.

Three

Meanwhile, when Hideyoshi received Nobunaga’s command in mid-October, he lightning-swift gathered his forces at Azuchi and entered Harima Province (Banshū) as supreme commander of the Chugoku campaign. This not only shocked the enemy Mōri clan but sent seismic waves through the hearts of Azuchi’s veteran commanders. “To entrust an unseasoned commander like Chikuzen with the monumental task of conquering Chugoku—and install him as supreme commander no less—” “A daring appointment indeed—doesn’t this breach all norms of propriety?”

Within such one-sided assessments lay clear evidence of the senior retainers’ discontent. In other words, whether it was Shibata Katsuie or Niwa Nagahide, they still saw Hideyoshi as nothing more than a far junior figure compared to themselves. And that was all? ...that was the sentiment. Akechi Mitsuhide, too, was apparently one who reacted with unexpected criticism. In the event of a Chugoku campaign, he had privately harbored confidence—an unspoken yet deeply held expectation that the command might fall to him. Particularly regarding strategies for the San'in region, he had frequently attempted to offer counsel and, given his existing involvement with the Amago clan, this confidence of his was by no means mere self-delusion.

However, the one who likely felt more disappointed and displeased than anyone else was Araki Settsu-no-kami Murashige of Itami Castle—who had long been positioned and active at the crucial boundary between Chugoku and Kamigata. This was only natural, for all along,

"He had been overflowing with self-assurance, thinking, 'It should have been me.' There was no denying the inner disquiet he felt as he watched Hideyoshi's massive army pass through Settsu."

Four For the Kodera family, it was not entirely acceptable, but for Kuroda Kanbei, Hideyoshi’s army was precisely the long-awaited troops he had awaited. As he had previously agreed with Nobunaga, Kuroda Kanbei offered up Himeji Castle—which had served as his family’s residence—in its entirety to become “the Oda army’s headquarters,” welcoming Hideyoshi and his forces while relocating his own family to a corner bailey. Hideyoshi entered Himeji Castle and, from there, surveyed the situation through on-the-ground observation.

"The pacification of all Harima will likely be concluded by mid-next month at the latest," he had already reported to Nobunaga in writing. When the Oda clan's banners were planted here, Kanbei's groundwork at last began yielding substantial results. The evidence of their commitment lay in their sending of hostages. In Himeji, Hideyoshi inspected over a dozen such hostages. Yet needless to say, these were all merely offspring of minor rural warlords.

Those who wielded true power did not easily submit to military authority. The rest depended on true capability. With the swiftness of a gale, his troops had already entered Tajima and captured Yamaguchi, Iwabuchi, and Takeda Castle. In response to this, the contingent that arose from the San'in region was none other than the troops of the Amago faction. Yamanaka Shikanosuke Yukimori and Kuroda Kanbei shook hands at the Kumamigawa encampment.

“The long-awaited day has finally arrived.” “It has come—the dawn of Chugoku.” As the two heroes were conversing, word arrived that behind Kōzuki—one of the enemy’s castles—there apparently lay a considerable force under Ukita Izumi-no-kami, backed by the Mōri clan. “Even if the Ukita forces join them, what’s one skirmish?” Yamanaka Shikanosuke requested to lead the vanguard.

Of course, it was permitted.

Kuroda Kanbei always consulted Takenaka Shigeharu, who was present in the camp. Regarding battlefield matters, it was precisely because he firmly believed that Shigeharu possessed far greater knowledge than he himself did. Kōzuki Castle fell within ten days. The lord’s head was sent from Himeji to Azuchi. Hideyoshi granted an audience to the Amago lord and his retainers, “I deeply recognize your years of hardship,” “But your hardships will surely be rewarded.” “Today cannot yet be called the day of our ultimate ambition—we have only just begun to lay the groundwork, I must say.”

With heartfelt sympathy for their hardships and in recognition of their achievements, he exchanged evening cups with them. Then, into Kōzuki Castle seized from the enemy, they stationed Amago Katsuhisa and Yamanaka Shikanosuke and had them guard the border against the enemy. Their lord Katsuhisa was still young at twenty-six years old. Beneath him was Yamanaka Shikanosuke Yukimori—a lone loyal retainer and a man of chivalrous spirit throughout his life, now thirty-nine years old and possessed of an angular frame.

The Renowned Steed of Mount Shosha

I Hideyoshi once returned in triumph to Azuchi. It served both to report the victory and to personally seek Nobunaga’s directives regarding the next phase of operations. “Your achievements in the opening campaign are impeccable.” “Well done.” “Spend the New Year at leisure in Azuchi.”

As it was the end of the year, Nobunaga had said this. He then bestowed the cherished Oto Gozen’s kettle. To receive tea caddies, bowls, and kettles was equivalent to being awarded the highest military honors of that era. This honor lay not merely in their value as treasures but in what it meant to receive them from Nobunaga— "You too should keep such things—amidst your busyness, take moments of leisure to nourish your mind with tea." —for it signified being granted such distinction. Though tea had reached peak popularity, few had obtained this official recognition from their lords.

The sixth year of the Tenshō era dawned in February. Hashiba Hideyoshi once again descended upon Harima. The military preparations had been further bolstered to an imposing degree.

The local allies—a contingent of Oda supporters—had come out to welcome them as far as Kakogawa. All of this was fundamentally due to Kuroda Kanbei’s ingenuity and his sincere efforts to bring glory to Hideyoshi’s entry into Chugoku.

Notably among these welcoming figures was Bessho Yoshiai—uncle to Bessho Nagaharu, lord of Miki Castle—who had joined alongside Miyake Harutada, a retainer of their house.

Speaking of the Bessho clan—in any case, they governed the eight districts of eastern Harima, a domain yielding 430,000 koku, and were a major power in this region. Though they had once established ties with the Mōri clan, Kuroda Kanbei’s silver tongue persuaded them, ultimately drawing them into the Oda camp without deploying a single soldier—an achievement whose magnitude in turning the tide favorably in Harima Province and bringing glory to Hideyoshi’s forces cannot be overstated.

“Well, well.” “Why, this is…”

Hideyoshi was first and foremost like this with everyone. To relatives of major domains or retainers of minor castles, he showed no particular distinction. However, compared to his first expedition, he arrived at his post with striking vitality, and his joy honestly overflowed from his face.

That night, a grand banquet for the allied forces of Banshū was held at the Kakogawa encampment. When the banquet ended, they relocated their seating and moved to a war council. Hashiba Hideyoshi approached the post-banquet council with a light heart, thinking that simply reiterating the fundamental established policies and the Oda clan’s invincible posture of certain victory would suffice for tonight’s purposes. However, there were men at that meeting who spoke at great length. They were Yoshiai, the uncle of Bessho Nagaharu, and Miyake Harutada.

Hideyoshi was occasionally shooting sharp glances. Even he could lose his temper on rare occasions.

II

“Now that Lord Hashiba has presented his esteemed directives and aspirations—what say you, gentlemen?” “You frequently invoke ‘the center,’ yet from the Mōri faction’s vantage, Chugoku itself might well be considered central.” “Does not the Oda faction’s gaze fix too narrowly upon itself—might this not lead you to undervalue Mōri’s true strength?” “...” “This conviction grows ever stronger within me.”

Such was Bessho Yoshiai.

Though thoroughly intoxicated in appearance, he kept calling out insistently while running his tongue over his lips—not just to those seated left and right, but even to people across the room. "The wealth and military strength of the Mōri clan lie far beyond imagination." "Their naval forces in particular are overwhelming." "The foundations built since Motonari's time still hold decisive weight—and while we might set aside Lord Terumoto for now, commanders like Kikkawa Motoharu and Kobayakawa Takakage cannot be taken lightly." "Each is a master strategist." "Now, now. Uncle of Nagaharu."

As if unable to endure it any longer, Hideyoshi called out sharply from his seat of honor, his voice seeming to tug at their ears. “What’s this muttering? What exactly is the main point you’re trying to make—the meaning?” “Ah, did that reach your ears?” said Yoshiai with audacious composure. Given his age—old enough to be Hideyoshi’s parent—he had developed a hide thick enough that he showed no sign of being fazed. “In other words—sir. If I may speak for your sake, should you rashly commit to this Chugoku campaign, I fear it may invite grave consequences. We should steadily fortify our defenses here and, after gradually capturing the Mōri faction’s minor branch castles, devise a strategy to gauge their strengths and weaknesses before mobilizing our main forces—or so I believe.”

“I’ll not waste words.”

Hashiba Hideyoshi was truly enraged. Then, after fixing his gaze squarely on Yoshiai and Miyake Harutada, he delivered a vehement declaration. “You need only serve as Lord Chikuzen’s vanguard, follow my commands, and fight fiercely.” “All fundamental strategies and policies—having received mandate from Lord Nobunaga—reside solely within this Hideyoshi’s discretion.” “I will not tolerate your meddling.” “Hah,” Yoshiai scoffed to his companion.

Yoshiai, maintaining his composure, turned to Harutada beside him and— “...Then it stands as stated.” “There remains no purpose in our presence here.” “Let us take our leave.”

With a gesture of his chin urging him on, they withdrew from the chamber together.

After departing Kakogawa, Yoshiai turned to Miyake Harutada from horseback and began speaking. “Tonight’s little performance was quite the gamble with our necks.” “But with this, we’ve at least created a reason to move our lord. ...There’s no way the Bessho clan will endure being used as foot soldiers by the likes of Hashiba or Kuroda.” “First and foremost, we would lose face before the Mōri Clan.” This was genuine allegiance to the Mōri faction. Although Lord Nagaharu had been persuaded by Kanbei to pledge allegiance to Oda, the words just spoken now amply proved that within his castle walls, there still remained many such staunch anti-Nobunaga elements.

III

The lord of Miki Castle, Bessho Nagaharu, was still a young man of twenty-five. Having observed from afar the blazing rise of the emerging Oda forces and grown increasingly dissatisfied with the Mōri's presence in Chugoku, he had decisively forged an alliance with Oda the previous year after being swayed by Kuroda Kanbei's compelling arguments. "It's all trickery—every last bit of it."

And now, his uncle Yoshiai, present before him, denounced its wrongs to the fullest extent. "I met with Hideyoshi at Kakogawa, but his insolent disrespect made my very body tremble," he declared with theatrical exaggeration as he recounted the circumstances of that time. "Bessho Nagaharu and all those under you are nothing more than Lord Chikuzen’s vanguard—he declares he will not permit any meddling in matters of command or strategy. That too, in front of a full assembly. It’s as if he treats the samurai of Harima as mere servants."

Having thoroughly stirred Nagaharu’s emotions, Yoshiai then struck at the very concern his nephew guarded most fiercely. "Ultimately, I believe Lord Nobunaga’s true intention is to first exploit our clan’s forces in the initial stages, and once his Chugoku conquest is achieved, to let us destroy ourselves individually—even Miki Castle would likely be given to Hideyoshi as a reward." "The schemes of treacherous leaders throughout history have all followed this same pattern." When pressed this vehemently by his uncle, Nagaharu could no longer hold firm to his convictions. Abruptly, Miki Castle betrayed Kuroda Kanbei. Rather, they fully declared their break with Oda as a “negotiation breakdown,” raised the banner of revolt, entrusted their efforts to the sudden rise of pro-Mōri factions within the castle walls, and sent word renewing their cooperation to Mōri Terumoto in Yoshida, Aki Province.

Once word of Miki Castle’s defection spread，the various lords based in small castles such as Kamikichi，Kajiwara，Ogawa，Kinugasa，and Nagai followed in rapid succession， “Drive the Hashiba forces from Chugoku！” and rallied under those great war banners．

At this juncture, Kanbei’s bloodless conquest through eloquence and his painstaking groundwork had all—in a single morning—been reduced to mere painted rice cakes. Kanbei honestly felt like weeping. He seized Hideyoshi and poured out his heart.

“I had believed you were a master not only of military strategy but of diplomacy—one who never turns others against you. Yet making Yoshiai leave in anger constitutes an inexcusable failure.” “Unlike others, Miki Castle has numerous brave soldiers and natural defenses.” “Resolving this will require significant effort.” “It can’t be helped,” Hashiba Hideyoshi admitted some regret over his momentary lapse in composure, though he refused to deem this outcome unfavorable.

“In fact, one could even say it’s for the best. For Miki Castle was already a powder keg primed to erupt in rebellion. I do not mean to belittle your achievement in skillfully subduing them with your words, but the grand enterprise of managing Chugoku must not become a castle built on sand. For that very purpose, it was rather a good thing, I tell you.”

There was no shortage of sour grapes. Yet such thinking might well be called the essence of indomitable spirit. Kuroda Kanbei resolved never to broach the subject again. And as he gradually came to perceive both the merits and flaws of this man Hideyoshi, he began feeling with visceral intensity the truth behind words written to him in a letter: "You are as dear to me as my own brother Kōichirō."

IV

No matter how much Hideyoshi might rationalize with words, he could not conceal how Miki Castle's betrayal had forced an abrupt change in the army's established strategy. For this second campaign, their initial plan had been to focus on Bizen from the outset. For Ukita Naoie of Bizen now stood as the foremost defensive bastion serving as Mōri's vanguard. But now—in a sudden reversal—they had to first subdue the rebellion at their very doorstep, lest they find themselves in perilous straits. Following Kuroda Kanbei's counsel, Hashiba Hideyoshi urgently relocated his headquarters to Mount Shosha and began directing operations from its temple.

Information reaches the enemy swiftly. The Mōri naval forces lying in wait near Kii and Awaji had already launched coastal assaults with over a hundred warships carrying several thousand troops.

“I will handle it. My Lord, please take on the enemy at the front.” Kanbei led four to five hundred troops under his close retainers—Morita Tahei, Takemori Shinjirō, Kuriyama Zensuke, and others—to confront the Mōri forces landing ashore. After inflicting severe losses upon them and compelling the enemy commanders Kajiwara Kagetatsu and Akashi Motokazu to surrender, he returned victorious. “Kanbei, forgive me.”

At that moment, Hideyoshi spoke. Puzzled, Kanbei asked why he was apologizing so profusely, to which Hideyoshi replied in his characteristically frank manner: “No—I’d often carelessly called you ‘the master of rhetoric’ or ‘a strategist wielding a three-inch unbreakable blade’ as idle praise. But after witnessing your valor at Kōzuki Castle and in this recent battle, I’ve come to fully realize you’re no mere schemer who deals only in words.” “That’s why I apologized.” “Forgive me.”

Having said that, he slipped on his straw sandals and abruptly stepped out into the garden. What’s he doing? As he watched, Hideyoshi approached a black horse tethered to a large Chinese flowering crabapple tree in the temple garden, grabbed its halter himself, and led it back to the front of the main hall. “This is a fine horse, Kanbei.” Kuroda Kanbei stepped out to the veranda edge, lowered his head, and placed both hands on the ground, “A chestnut coat, sir.” “The luster of its coat, the legs, the loins, the balance of its shoulders, the sharpness of its hooves.” “Especially its eyes are calm, sir.” “A steed of such exemplary quality that I’ve not seen its like in recent times.” “Would be around ten years old, perhaps?”

“No, he’s still a young horse. “A seven-year-old. “You can ride him long into the future. “If you master him through battlefields, he’ll grow even finer... Well? Don’t you want him?” “I would like him.” “Then I’ll give him to you… Truth be told, I received this steed from Lord Nobunaga when heading west—mounted him upon arriving at this encampment and named him Shosha-yama while cherishing him. But one might say most of Hideyoshi’s military achievements owe to your efforts.—Kanbei, come down here and take the reins—see what a splendid gait this horse has!”

“Thank you most kindly.” Descending into the garden, Kuroda Kanbei knelt on the ground and accepted the reins. After leading it around once without mounting and examining it thoroughly, he exclaimed in admiration three times, “It may even surpass the Red Hare that Lü Bu of the Later Han dynasty was said to have cherished.” “Shosha-yama is an excellent name for a steed—coming from Azuchi’s stables, its saddle bears supremely auspicious portents.” “It will surely achieve great distinction.”

He seemed genuinely happy at heart. Seeing this, Hideyoshi stepped up onto the veranda, returned to his original seat, and continued gazing at him. “Prove yourself further.” he encouraged.

Kanbei bowed once more. Then, turning toward the far side of the garden fence, he called out loudly for his retainer Morita Tahei. Wondering what was happening, Tahei came running. “Your valor at Kōzuki Castle and your recent feat of repelling the Mōri naval forces—both stand as truly remarkable testaments to your loyal service.” “This renowned steed I received from Lord Chikuzen is meant to be bestowed for military achievements—I transfer it to you.” “Convey my deepest gratitude to Lord Chikuzen.”

With that, he simply handed it over. Morita Tahei, overwhelmed by the excessive honor, stood dumbfounded beyond joy; but when he took the reins, he burst into tears. In his heart, Hideyoshi thoroughly reassessed Kanbei’s capabilities.

"This man has truly mastered handling retainers. That very quality makes him somewhat difficult to employ," he reflected.

A Friend's Compassion

1.

The ruggedness of Miki Castle and its tenacious resistance resembled a decayed tooth with roots stubbornly entrenched in the gums. Moreover, to extract that single troublesome tooth, one had to first capture each of its satellite fortresses—Shikata, Kanki, Takasago, Noguchi, Ago, and Hashidani—one by one; only then could the enemy's stronghold, rooted like a molar, be shaken loose. Hideyoshi's tactics, with Mount Shosha as his headquarters, followed the conventional strategy of attacking each outer enemy castle one by one. They captured Noguchi Castle, seized Hashidani Castle, and subsequently assaulted fortresses such as Kanki Naganori's at Kanki and Kushihashi Haruie's at Shikata, intensifying their tactics of arson, mop-up operations, and pursuit across the vast territories claimed by the Bessho clan.

But no matter how much Hideyoshi was supported on both flanks by his military strategist Takenaka Shigeharu and the wise advisor Kuroda Kanbei, with a small force numbering fewer than ten thousand, they could not hope to achieve swift results through direct confrontation against the enemy’s geographical advantage. (The situation is critical; we must urgently request reinforcements to be dispatched westward.) Hashiba Hideyoshi had swiftly dispatched an express messenger to Oda Nobunaga in Azuchi with this urgent request. Moreover, on another front, to prevent morale from flagging, he periodically rested the warhorses and allowed their vital energy to be replenished, preparing for a prolonged campaign.

It was during one such truce day. To Kuroda Kanbei’s encampment, Hanbei came visiting. Clad in a sleeveless campaign jacket and holding a bamboo staff, he presented a figure of refined elegance, “Are you there?”

With that, he peered inside the encampment. There were many monk quarters atop Mount Shosha. Kuroda Kanbei’s encampment was also located in one of those temple buildings. At that moment, he was reading The Analects while still clad in armor, but upon the unexpected visit of a friend, he gladly welcomed him and, after exchanging greetings, immediately inquired: "How is your health holding up? In camp life, we inevitably push ourselves hard, and provisions are hard to come by. Lord Chikuzen constantly worries your condition might worsen—"

he inquired about his friend’s health. When meeting Takenaka Shigeharu, it had become customary for Kanbei and the staff officers to inquire about that above all else first. In truth, Shigeharu’s condition showed no signs of improvement since arriving at the battlefield. Amidst sun-burned warriors with steel-like complexions and full beards, his face alone stood starkly pale. During military councils—like a white camellia blooming amidst brambles—he would remain quietly at Hideyoshi’s side.

Yet whenever his words were heard, it was always those who listened who felt refreshed as usual. Though he himself was undeniably ill, he never shared that pain or melancholy with others. Today too he quietly displayed his unchanging smile.

“Oh, thank you. A chronic illness—while I appreciate your concern—is not something the sufferer finds particularly painful. Since it has become my normal state.” “By the way, will the reinforcements from Azuchi arrive swiftly?” “A letter has now arrived for you, my lord. According to it, the forces under Takigawa, Akechi, and Niwa—with Araki Murashige’s army added to their ranks—appear to have already departed for this location. —and Lord Nobutada, Lord Nobunaga’s eldest son, has also been included.”

"That brings some relief." "I’ve been worried about how the Azuchi council was faring." "No, relief is premature." "The true difficulties likely lie ahead." "Then... what do you foresee?" "Consider Lord Niwa, Akechi, Takigawa, Sakuma—all seasoned commanders who prize their autonomy. To follow another’s orders—would such men not resent being subordinate?" "That is precisely where command may fracture."

It was April. Spring comes late to the mountains, and now was the height of the bush warblers’ song.

2.

The communion of their hearts never knew weariness in conversation, even without a jug of wine between them. As they occasionally noticed mountain cherry petals drifting onto the veranda from somewhere, their conversation remained strictly focused on military matters throughout—when suddenly Shigeharu posed this question: "I heard Lord Chikuzen recently granted you the famed Mount Shosha steed in recognition of your repeated battlefield merits." "That was indeed an excessive honor from his lordship," Kanbei replied. "But these achievements belong entirely to my subordinates' efforts. Having already passed it on to my retainer Morita Tahei, I can only wonder what Lord Chikuzen must think of this arrangement—truthfully, I feel deeply apologetic."

“Oh no, regarding that matter, His Lordship entertains no particular thoughts. However, what weighs on my mind is this letter from Lord Chikuzen addressed to you—the one expressing his intent to regard you as a brother.” “Indeed. I have been honored to receive such undeserved favor through those written words. Yet why should this concern you?” “Do you still keep that missive in your possession?” “I have thought to preserve it as a family heirloom and always carry it with me, though...”

“If you do have it, might I be permitted to examine it?” “That’s easily done.”

With that, Kanbei promptly took it out from his armor chest and showed it. Then Takenaka Shigeharu read through it in silence, but upon finishing, wordlessly consigned it to the flames in the hearth. “……What?”

By the time Kanbei voiced his shock, it had already been reduced to a mere fleck of white ash. Even he could not maintain his composure and pressed for an explanation. “For this one, it was an irreplaceable token of my lord’s favor—the sole family heirloom I possessed. Why did you cast it into the flames? Such discourteous conduct is unbefitting of you. Was there some deeper intention behind this?” Then Takenaka Shigeharu slightly pulled back his knees and, in an apologetic manner, calmly admonished. “Given your wisdom, I thought you would immediately understand—so I acted hastily. Consider this an act of friendship and forgive me.”

“How could this possibly be an act of friendship?” “Then consider this: if you were to preserve such an oath document with undue reverence, in time to come, discontent would inevitably arise toward those you serve, and negligence in duty would follow. —Would not that accumulated resentment ultimately become the cause of your own undoing? Thinking of my lord’s benefit and your esteemed house, I judged it unnecessary for both parties and thus burned it.”

“Ah... Truly.” Kanbei slapped his knee sharply, moved by his friend’s words to shed tears of emotion unbidden. Never had he felt so piercingly instructed in a retainer’s proper station as at this moment.

Shigeharu searched the sleeve of his armor and took out a separate document. And he gently placed it into the hands of Kanbei, who stood motionless, struck by remorse, and spoke. “You must feel desolate, having lost something you cherished so dearly.” “I believe this document surpasses even that one.” “Please peruse it at your leisure later.”

Looking up at the twilight sky, Takenaka Shigeharu soon took his leave. A man whose presence—both in coming and going—could be wholly encapsulated by the single word "serenity." Kuroda Kanbei saw him off to the camp gate, and upon returning to the edge of the veranda, he noticed what he held in his hand.

“Whose letter is this?”

And so, remaining seated there, he broke the seal.

It was a letter from my child, Matsuchiyo. Ever since I had taken him to Azuchi as a hostage, day and night—even when trying to forget—were these not the childish characters of my eleven-year-old child that would appear even in battlefield dreams? Inside were clumsy characters and artless phrases detailing his current circumstances. Lord Takenaka Shigeharu’s castle on Mount Bodai in Mino stands on a higher mountain than Himeji Castle. In winter, the snow lies deep, and spring arrives late. At first I was lonely, but everyone in the household treats me well, and the children of its members gather daily at the castle in great numbers to join me during study hours—these days I feel no loneliness whatsoever.

—conveying such meanings, and toward the end, (I too want to go out to the battlefield soon with Father.) It had also been written.

The Hardships of Command

I

The stronghold—the siege of Miki Castle—was still only halfway complete.

At this very moment,

An urgent report arrived at Mount Shosha: "The Mōri’s great army has laid siege to Kozuki Castle." Kozuki Castle was the closest friendly outpost to enemy territory. After occupying it, they had made it a strategic point where the so-called Amago clan—including Amago Katsuhisa and Yamanaka Shikanosuke—were stationed to defend. Naturally, it could not be abandoned. With the arrival of reinforcements from Azuchi, Hideyoshi immediately combined Araki Murashige’s forces to lead approximately twenty thousand troops, hastened to provide urgent relief, and took up position at Mount Takakura, east of Kozuki Castle.

“Here at Mount Takakura, I will reinforce you! Hold fast until we establish contact with the castle!” Hideyoshi dispatched spies to deliver this encouragement to the Amago clan defenders within Kozuki Castle. Yet between Mount Takakura and the besieged fortress lay valleys crisscrossed with palisades, abatis in serried ranks, trenches and moats—every defensive line constructed so thoroughly that not a single step could advance toward the enemy’s position.

Moreover, the enemy’s numbers were twice the size of Hideyoshi’s forces. It was an army so vast it seemed to have drained the Mōri’s national strength—merely counting its commanders revealed Kobayakawa Takakage’s force of approximately twenty thousand, Kikkawa Motoharu’s army of fifteen thousand, and Ukita Naoie’s contingent of fourteen to fifteen thousand. Even as Hideyoshi surveyed this situation, he could not possibly launch a reckless battle. Reluctantly, each night, they lit massive bonfires across the entire mountain, their efforts limited to remotely bolstering the morale of their isolated fortress in the distance.

Meanwhile, the Mōri forces began to boldly display their might at sea as well. Every single one of the over seven hundred warships patrolling the coastal waters of Banshū with their banners unfurled belonged to the Mōri naval forces.

II

Upon learning of the crisis’s urgency, Nobunaga of Azuchi had first dispatched his son Nobutada and other generals. Now, however, when he learned that the Mōri clan’s second front had split their allies by laying siege to Kozuki Castle, he resolved to take command himself. Yet violent storms had caused rivers in the western provinces to flood over recent days, and with reports of perilous travel conditions along his route, he could only let futile days slip by. “I believe this is now a situation where there is no other choice,” they urged. “Your Lordship should deign to abandon Kozuki Castle—a single fortress—withdraw Lord Hideyoshi’s forces to the rear, combine them with Lord Nobutada’s army, and devote yourself solely to attacking our immediate formidable enemy, Bessho Nagaharu of Miki Castle. This would be the most certain military strategy.”

Takigawa Kazumasu and Sakuma Nobumori repeatedly sent counsel from the front lines to Nobunaga in Azuchi. Among the Oda hereditary retainers, considerable envy toward Hideyoshi’s merits had already fermented since the Chūgoku front campaign’s commencement. There were not merely two or three veteran commanders who privately nursed hopes for some crisis to emerge that might break Hideyoshi. Nobunaga’s order arrived directly from Azuchi, borne by urgent courier to Hideyoshi’s encampment at Mount Takakura.

“By gathering reinforcements at Kozuki Castle, you directly play into the enemy’s second-front strategy.” “Withdraw at once to combine with Lord Nobutada’s forces and focus your efforts on attacking Miki Castle.” Yet that was precisely what it said. Hideyoshi remained motionless after receiving the command, his expression darkening. “Does Your Lordship mean for us to abandon Kozuki Castle? To leave Amago Katsuhisa and Yamanaka Shikanosuke there to die?” “However necessary... this is too bitter a draught to swallow.”

So he thought.

At that very moment, Kanbei was not in this camp. With a secret order, he had infiltrated Okayama in Bizen Province. So he summoned the strategist Takenaka Shigeharu and consulted him, asking, "We have received such-and-such orders from Azuchi—what should we do?"

Hanbei spoke like flowing water. “You must withdraw. We cannot defy Lord Nobunaga’s orders from Azuchi.” “Is there truly no other way?” “There remains no strategy but to delay your withdrawal by one night—in that time, secretly send a messenger into the castle to make one final attempt at contact. Urge them to risk their lives to break out and join our forces.” “Though even this would be a near-impossible feat.” “Let us send Kamei Korenori.”

And so, he waited all night for someone to escape from the castle, but in the end, it proved impossible. No matter what they did, they could not break through the Mōri’s impenetrable encirclement and reach this position. Finally, as he struck camp and prepared to leave that place, Hideyoshi gazed at the allies in the isolated fortress and lamented over and over again. “They have truly fought the hated Mōri clan for fifty-seven long years since the fourth year of Daiei—aspiring across two or three generations to restore the Amago clan. When our Oda forces advanced westward, they relied upon Lord Nobunaga, became our allies, and achieved merit—yet if we abandon them now, leaving both Amago Katsuhisa and Yamanaka Shikanosuke to perish… Regardless of what it means for a mere general like myself, it would disgrace Lord Nobunaga’s esteemed name. Long after His Lordship’s conquests reach even the farthest ends of Chūgoku and Tsukushi, this act will surely become fodder for the world’s censure…” How utterly galling this was!

Their ally Araki Murashige had already departed for Mount Shosha without any hesitation. Hideyoshi began to retreat gradually, leaving a rear guard behind. In his heart, he had never experienced a battle as painful as this one—a conflict so contrary to his own will, leaving him no choice but to retreat in futility. Strategies are always easily overturned. However, while having one’s strategies overturned by the enemy was an expected hardship of war, there was no anguish more bitter for a commander of three armies than when they were overturned by one’s own allies—a torment that left one unable even to weep.

The Abandoned Child Castle

I

Neither a single life nor a continuous war proceeded smoothly alone. Adversity inevitably accompanied it. No—it might be said that adversity always lay within smooth sailing. Hideyoshi’s adversity began around this time.

Looking back, he had indeed been successful up to this point. Having been appointed as Chinzei Tandai and Commander-in-Chief of the Western Expedition, he had been able to freely employ his strategic acumen as he pleased. However, when Oda Nobutada had moved westward with senior generals such as Niwa, Akechi, Sakuma, and Takigawa accompanying him in support, and when the fundamental strategy itself underwent a complete transformation under direct orders from Azuchi, Hideyoshi’s commands and intentions could no longer be executed as they had been before. In all matters, he first had to defer to Nobutada, and the senior generals in Nobutada’s camp still regarded Hideyoshi as nothing more than an "upstart," habitually referring to him as "that monkey."

Therefore, Nobutada did not value him as his father Nobunaga had. The headquarters of the Miki Castle siege forces was no longer at Hideyoshi’s camp; before anyone realized, it had shifted to where Nobutada was stationed. When he futilely abandoned the relief of Kozuki Castle and withdrew, Nobutada immediately issued him a command: “You shall take your forces into Tajima, subjugate the scattered allies of Bessho there, and return.” he ordered. Nobutada was still a young commander in his twenties. This simplicity was only natural. Hideyoshi, grinning cheerfully, accepted the command,

“Yes, yes. Understood.” He immediately departed again for Tajima. Of course, it was all too clear that the order sending him on such a unit-level mission had come not from Nobutada’s own will but rather from veteran commanders in his headquarters like Sakuma, Niwa, and Takigawa. “Even if it is Lord Nobutada’s command, how could you obediently accept such an outrageous order?” Though voices of unrest arose even within Hideyoshi’s ranks, Takenaka Hanbei strictly enforced military orders,

“Do not voice grievances. “In the military, those who clamor about right and wrong are foremost among the inept.” With this admonishment, the officers and soldiers finally redirected their discontent elsewhere and set out to subjugate them. The mopping up of minor enemies scattered throughout Tajima was completed in approximately one month. It was already July.

Through these forty-odd days of continued fierce battles in remote mountain regions, the faces of Hideyoshi and his commanders became thoroughly sunburned. No matter how much they lay in mountain fields or were scorched by travel under blazing heat, what remained as white as a morning glory flower was Takenaka Hanbei’s complexion. Hanbei’s condition appeared to deteriorate rapidly; according to his subordinates’ reports, “On nights when we camped in the fields, he would cough incessantly until midnight, and during battles, we would often see him quietly conceal blood-tinged spittle in his pocket paper.”

Though this was reported，while among Hideyoshi’s retainers he never once showed a pained expression on his brow；when questioned，he only laughed， “I find battlefield engagements pleasurable. “When facing combat，I become unaware of all else. “With thousands of lives depending on headquarters’ commands，an ailment like mine scarcely merits recollection—even were I inclined to dwell on it.”

he said in his usual quiet manner.

II

During this period, Kozuki Castle—the abandoned fortress at the Harima-Bizen border where the Amago clan had made their last stand—succumbed to its inevitable fate and fell. Amago Katsuhisa committed seppuku to plead for his soldiers' lives, while Yamanaka Shikanosuke Yukimori surrendered and bowed before the Mōri forces. "We shall grant you a five-thousand-koku fief in Suō Province. Would you not cast aside old enmities and pledge lasting service to the house of Mōri?"

Both Kikkawa Motoharu and Kobayakawa Takakage treated him favorably and made this pronouncement. Shikanosuke, "This was not what I desired."

Thus submitting to their mercy, he was escorted to Suō Province accompanied by approximately thirty people including his wife, children, and retainers.

He who had been indomitable, who for decades had overcome countless hardships without yielding as he fought against the great Mōri clan to restore his lord’s house, now presented a demeanor so wretched and pitiable it stirred compassion. But in Shikanosuke’s heart, even until his final moments, there still— (I will not die in vain.) there was something he had secretly harbored. That was his plan: after being taken to enemy territory, to cross blades with either Kikkawa Motoharu or, if possible, Mōri Terumoto, and die in the attempt.

However, the Mōri side had been sufficiently skeptical of his surrender from the very beginning. ("A man of his caliber?")

Lord Katsuhisa had already committed seppuku. The main Amago house had been severed by bloodshed. It was unthinkable that Yamanaka Shikanosuke Yukimori would shamelessly steal away his own half-lived glory by accepting a stipend. The subordinates of the Kikkawa family—who had already discerned this—waited until the escort reached Kawabe Crossing at the foot of Bitchū Matsuyama. As Shikanosuke wiped his sweat while awaiting the ferry, they exploited the moment to strike him from behind with their swords. Shikanosuke leaped into the river, but since this had been premeditated, they hurled javelins from the banks and boats, then one after another plunged into the water to grapple with him, ultimately taking his head.

Shikanosuke’s blood temporarily dyed the Kōbegawa River crimson. He was thirty-nine years old, it is said. When Hideyoshi heard this report, “What a waste of a man.” With that, he glanced back at Kanbei and Hanbei, clicking his tongue as if pained. But Kuroda Kanbei immediately responded to that and comforted his pained heart. “We may have finally lost Kozuki Castle to the enemy, but we will soon take something tenfold in return.” “Even at this juncture, our allies will absolutely not suffer defeat.”

“……Hmm, that one.” Even Hideyoshi had something he had been eagerly awaiting. That was the allegiance of Ukita Naoie of Bizen, whom Kanbei had previously slipped out of camp to secretly correspond with.

Autumn at Hirai Mountain

I

When Hideyoshi returned from Tajima, Nobunaga’s main army—now reinforced with an additional wing—launched a full-scale siege of Miki Castle. First, they swiftly captured Kamiyoshi Castle and Shikata Castle, satellite fortresses protecting Miki. Yet Miki Castle itself—the Bessho clan’s stronghold defended by over seven thousand warriors bound by blood ties—occupied an impregnable natural fortress. Moreover, having been amply provisioned with fresh weapons and supplies via sea routes from the Mōri faction, there remained no hope of breaching it quickly.

Given that Azuchi’s policy had also settled on a patient strategy of siege tactics—prepared for the long haul—when August arrived, Nobutada withdrew to Azuchi with most of his generals and their various units. “The rest will be a prolonged siege. “I leave it to you.”

These were the words spoken to Hideyoshi at the time of their departure. To this too, Hideyoshi deferentially replied: "You need not concern yourself."

Hideyoshi replied. And with a force incomparably smaller than before, he established his headquarters for the prolonged siege on Hirai Mountain, directly facing Miki Castle.

Nobutada’s withdrawal, however, had another reason behind it. This was because Kikkawa Motoharu had withdrawn to Izumo and Kobayakawa Takakage to Aki—commanders of the massive Mōri-aligned armies that captured Kozuki Castle—having discerned that the battle situation would become protracted. Truly, the complexion of the war showed unpredictable complexity. The hearts of men in this war-torn land—where betrayal flowed as naturally as rivers—now laid bare their fickleness without restraint, (Does siding with Mōri bring profit? Does joining Oda ensure victory?)

Weighing their options, they would pledge allegiance at dawn only to abandon it by dusk, making their moves nearly impossible to predict. As Mōri forces withdrew from the Bizen-Harima border, Ukita Naoie's betrayal came to light alongside this development. That he had forsaken the Mōri clan and sworn fealty to Oda—mobilizing all of Bizen Province—marked a momentous shift in the war's tide, nothing less than a historic reversal of fortune for Oda's cause. Nobutada and his generals had returned triumphant bearing this favorable turn of events as their spoils—yet unbeknownst to them, it was Kuroda Kanbei's tireless negotiations and covert maneuvers that had made this possible.

While this was indeed a united effort made with master Hideyoshi’s consent and Shigeharu Hanbei’s strategic acumen playing a significant role—a combined force of lord and vassals—it was ultimately Kanbei who drove this alliance forward through sheer legwork and persuasion, repeatedly risking his life by venturing into enemy territory on dangerous secret envoy missions. Within Ukita’s household, there existed advantageous connections. a man called Hanabusa Sukesuke, a retainer of Naoie. This so-called “man who could be reasoned with” immediately found common cause with Kanbei, quashed the numerous dissenting opinions within the domain, and ultimately compelled his lord Naoie to resolve upon pledging allegiance to Oda.

II

With the allied main forces having departed, and with Lord Chikuzen’s single army now resolved to maintain a prolonged siege encampment against the impregnable Miki Castle, early autumn had arrived even at the Hirai Mountain battle positions.

On the mountains, bellflowers bloomed, and eulalia put forth their plumes.

“Today marks the hundredth day since Yamanaka Shikanosuke Yukimori’s passing.” “When he died at Kawabe Crossing, they say he carried the Taikai tea caddy across his chest.” “Even that iron-willed warrior had a tender, artistic side.” “Tonight I shall personally offer a bowl to console his loyal soul that bore so many grievances.” “You will join me in this offering.” The white moon cast its light through the wooden eaves of the encampment. Hideyoshi sat solemnly before the singing kettle as he spoke. They had occasionally gathered for tea in camp before, but never had Hideyoshi revealed such unguarded solemnity.

There were only two people present. Of course, they were Hanbei and Kanbei. The fact that Hideyoshi had not forgotten Shikanosuke's memorial day filled both of them with deep gratitude. They felt their resolve strengthening - that they would not hesitate to die for this man's sake.

That evening.

Takenaka Shigeharu crouched by the moonlit path on his way back to his encampment and remained there for some time, unable to rise. "What troubles you?" The attendant retainer peered at his face—paler than the moon itself—and furrowed his brow, but Hanbei began walking as he replied,

“It’s nothing.” was all he said. But afterwards, a bloodstained paper lay discarded there. He had coughed up blood. From that night onward, he developed a fever and remained bedridden in the encampment for over ten days.

Hideyoshi, who had come to visit, sat at his bedside, “Such stoicism brings me no joy. Please, I beg you—rest and recover. But you can’t recuperate here on the battlefield. Go to Kyoto and see a good doctor. Have Manase Dōsan examine you. He is the greatest physician of our time... If I were to lose you now, even Hideyoshi’s path forward would darken. By all means, go to Kyoto and take six months or even a year to recuperate.”

He scolded, encouraged, and urged him as though pleading. “Your words honor me beyond my worth.”

Hanbei wiped away his tears. Kanbei, too, perceiving his innermost feelings, bowed his head.

It was an autumn day with shrikes crying ceaselessly. Leaving behind the Hirai Mountain position he had sworn never to abandon even in death, the ailing strategist Takenaka Shigeharu Hanbei finally departed for Kyoto. Having been seen off by Hideyoshi and Kanbei—

A single mountain palanquin had been newly crafted for him. This too was a product of Hideyoshi’s consideration. Both Hideyoshi and Kanbei watched with fervent eyes as that figure exited the gate and descended the mountain path.

“Kanbei,” he said. “To be blessed with such genius and erudition at such a young age... If Heaven saw fit to send such a man into this world, why did it burden him with illness when bringing him forth? When I imagine Hanbei’s true feelings as he departs this place... I cannot bear it.” Having said this, Hideyoshi strode back into the encampment. When he felt a spasm that brought tears to his face, he wanted to hide himself like a child.

The insect-laden autumn deepened. A loneliness akin to a missing tooth lingered around Hideyoshi’s seat. Kanbei made a conscious effort to avoid speaking of Hanbei. As expected, this solitude was shattered. Moreover, it was a tension that would bring even greater desolation—for an urgent report had arrived: Araki Murashige, a general who had previously withdrawn with Nobutada, had suddenly raised the banner of rebellion against the Oda clan by seizing the strategic position he held in Settsu.

“Murashige?!” “Ah… Lord Araki?” Truly, these were times when human hearts proved inscrutable—lord and vassal stared at each other in stunned silence. Yet before even ten days had passed, another urgent missive arrived to shock Hideyoshi and Kanbei once more. “Lord Kodera Masanori of Gochaku has also been persuaded by Araki Murashige of Settsu; together they have pledged to defect and requested reinforcements from the Mōri faction.” “Eight or nine out of ten parts—this matter is almost certain.”

On the day this spy's report arrived, an urgent missive of the same nature came from Kuroda Sōen of Himeji as well. It was an event that admitted no doubt.

The path lay solitary.

I “I have an urgent request,” “I humbly ask to be granted a few days’ leave.” Kanbei said this and clasped his hands before Hideyoshi. This was the result of a night spent in torment. A profound resolve born of self-reproach was etched in his brow. “Where are you going?” How was one to handle this crisis? Hideyoshi too appeared still deep in deliberation. The fact that he did not immediately say “Approved” made it evident. Since yesterday, Hideyoshi had been wearing an uncharacteristically grave expression—one that even he seemed powerless to change. Gazing up at that figure with evident anguish, Kuroda Kanbei pressed his forehead even lower to the ground.

“I will ride forth to Gochaku and return. Since I am confronting this matter directly, I shall resolutely eliminate dissidents within our household, present my counsel to Lord Masanori, and will not rest until rectifying this ill-considered volte-face.” “What say you? Even were you to go now—” “No—if you would but grant me leave, though it cost Kanbei his very life…” This went beyond mere words. Kanbei poured his life’s resolve into his gaze, staring fixedly at Hideyoshi’s lips.

In Harima Province, where Gochaku Castle—and its lord Kodera Masanori—ought to have stood firmer than any other bastion, this very fortress had instead crumbled in resolve. Aligning with Araki Murashige’s rebellion, Masanori had suddenly proclaimed defection to the Mōri clan, staging a treacherous volte-face that mocked the world’s trust. For Kuroda Kanbei, this was an anguish beyond tears. Outrageous—utterly outrageous! Even seeing how his eyes had reddened through the night, one could grasp the extraordinary nature of his fury at such sheer ignorance and lack of principle.

In fact，even considering how things had begun，his position was fundamentally overturned. To Nobunaga in Azuchi，to Hideyoshi，and even to the local Harima compatriots he himself had persuaded to join the Oda faction—where could he possibly show his face? There must be honor in the warrior’s code. There must be a righteous cause to live and stand for. If one faltered in resolve，the only path remaining was to slit one’s belly and demonstrate one’s integrity.

“Please—grant this Kanbei a few days’ leave.” “I will return without fail.” In his desperation, he kept repeating his plea, but when Hideyoshi’s eyes shifted abruptly to scrutinize his own fervent expression, Kuroda Kanbei was struck by a pang of regret akin to remorse. Hideyoshi—who neither refused outright nor granted permission, withholding an easy answer—might he not have been secretly harboring in his heart the fear that he would depart for Gochaku and never return?

If one were in Hideyoshi’s position, it would not be impossible to harbor such doubts. Such was the era they lived in, and such were people’s hearts. Moreover, the Oda faction’s position here was decidedly unfavorable.

——He had overstepped. Saying things like “I will return immediately” only served to deepen that very apprehension. Kanbei, having realized this, was about to raise his face to further express his sincerity when suddenly— “Go then.” Hideyoshi slid out from his cushion, suddenly seized Kanbei’s hand, and spoke with force. “It will be painful, but go and return.—For you, Kodera Masanori remains your lord to the very end.” “He is someone bound by ties even stronger than my own.”

“Then… have I your permission?” “Setting you aside—who else could take that duty? What Lord Chikuzen feared was your life. Danger abounds!” “I stand prepared.” “—That won’t do.”

Hideyoshi released his sweat-dampened hand. And drawing his knees forward, “Not only must we fear ample danger from your own Kodera household seeking to harm you, but I greatly dread that you yourself might choose death.” “Once rebels voice defiance, they’ll cling to it stubbornly—no persuasion can sway them, for terror of retribution chains their hearts. Even with your utmost sincerity… should Gochaku’s defenders dig in their heels and refuse to budge—Kanbei, what then would you do?”

…………

“Don’t die. As long as you don’t resort to some narrow-minded notion of slitting your belly to atone to Lord Nobunaga or this Chikuzen—then go and return. Come back in full force!” “I will not die.”

Once again, this man’s words brought him to tears.

Kanbei, while tears and muscles battled across his face, declared resolutely. “I will return.” “Mm.”

With a powerful voice, Hideyoshi nodded deeply. Kanbei immediately withdrew.

“Later.” “I shall return once more to formally take my leave.”

II

When he returned to his camp, he immediately—

“Tahei, lend me your horse. “Your Mount Shosha.” “Certainly.—Where might you be going?”

“I wish to inspect all allied positions.” “Then I shall accompany you.”

Morita Tahei followed his master’s horse. After descending from Hirai Mountain’s main camp, he made a round of their allies’ front-line fortifications confronting the enemy stronghold of Miki Castle and returned. Whether real or imagined, within the enemy castle—fortified by over seven thousand elite soldiers—a vigorous morale could be felt. Araki Murashige’s sudden betrayal of Azuchi was clearly reflected in the morale here. The enemy displayed a jubilance that seemed to herald triumph. Moreover, following Murashige’s uprising, Takayama Ukon of Takatsuki in Settsu Province and Nakagawa Kiyohide of Ibaraki had also risen in rebellion one after another. Even in the Chūgoku region, the Kodera clan of Gochaku was responding in kind. Given this chain of events, it was only natural that this coordinated strategy was being celebrated within the Mōri faction’s camp as an extraordinary diplomatic triumph.

“When he considered it all—this was a dire crisis,” Kuroda Kanbei reflected inwardly. “Hirai Mountain had become the true watershed—would Oda prevail or Mōri?” His heart tightened like drawn bowstrings. He bore his share of that crushing responsibility— After returning Morita Tahei’s horse and meeting Hideyoshi again at camp, Kanbei toured allied battle positions along Miki Castle’s front lines. Noting flaws in troop deployments during his inspection, he formulated a critical strategy to present. “Our forces have blockaded both east-west roads into Miki,” he reported formally to Hideyoshi, “and severed coastal supply routes from Harima Nada by land and sea. Yet today’s observations show this has failed to dent enemy morale.” His fingers traced invisible terrain lines across his knee armor. “We must fundamentally rethink our approach.”

The crux of Hideyoshi’s prolonged siege strategy lay precisely there, so when he heard this, he widened his eyes in astonishment. “Why?” he pressed urgently. “Why claim that blocking their supply routes is meaningless?” “Just last month,” Hideyoshi continued, “we decisively repelled over two hundred Mōri supply ships attempting to dock at Uozumi’s shores and deliver provisions to Miki. We’ve been constantly intercepting smuggled grain on other routes too.” His tone grew defensive. “We’ve sealed them off watertight—not a single drop could leak through! If this hasn’t weakened the enemy troops at all, it’s catastrophic.”

Rather than accepting Kanbei’s words, he instead insisted on the completeness of their blockade in a tone tinged with dissatisfaction.

“No, until yesterday, that was sufficient—but now that all of Settsu has aligned with the Mōri faction, a significant breach has occurred.” “Hmm? …Is that so?” “It’s no wonder you haven’t noticed. This mountain path is one that even I—born in Harima—have only just now noticed.—It lies at Nibu Mountain’s pass, visible about one ri south of Ōgo. That pass borders both Harima and Settsu provinces—there’s no proper road, but once crossed, transporting supplies from Settsu to Miki or having Miki’s garrison travel to Settsu would be no great challenge.”

“Now that Araki of Settsu has defected, they must have already built a new fort there, garrisoned it with troops from either Miki or Settsu, and even opened a supply route.” “Unless we devise some means to counter that, no matter how thoroughly we block Miki’s three roads, the Mōri supply ships will likely transport provisions from Hanakuma in Settsu, cross Niwa, pass through Ōgo, and deliver supplies into the castle from that direction without difficulty.”

This counsel filled Hideyoshi with genuine gratitude. Moreover, Kanbei was now tormented by the direst of straits and stood on the verge of embarking on a trial even more harrowing than death itself. Even as he stood on that precipice, a surge of profound gratitude—overflowing with emotion at how thoroughly Kanbei had applied his mind despite everything—burned fiercely within him.

“Well said.” “Oh, thank you, thank you.” “You managed to see it through.” “Well then.” “I must take my leave for now.” “You’re leaving already?”

“I believe it would be better to act as soon as possible.” “There may be no oversights in your preparations, but do not grow complacent. Take particular care of yourself.” “Yes—and regarding security within your camp as well...” “Leave that concern to me.” “The enemy holds their natural fortress while our forces occupy exposed positions—their numbers appear nearly equal to ours. Moreover, our troops remain unfamiliar with this terrain, whereas they are local warriors who could traverse these paths blindfolded.” “Given their visibly heightened morale, you must anticipate they may well sally forth from the castle to launch a surprise attack.” “In prolonged sieges, it is ever thus—the besiegers’ resolve wanes first through weariness and negligence.”

Upon mounting his famed steed Shosha Mountain once more, he slowly descended from Hirai Mountain’s main camp, watching from horseback as the sun dimmed along the western ridge of the Chūgoku Mountains, a tumult of emotions weighing in his chest.

Three

When they reached the foothills, Kanbei looked back over his shoulder.

“Tahei.” “There’s no need to see me off any further.” “Go back now.”

For half the day today, Morita Tahei had been walking alongside the horse, and through this proximity, he had vaguely sensed that both his master’s destination and the state of his heart were far from ordinary.

“No, I will accompany you all the way. To Himeji—even to Gochaku.” “I said enough!” Kanbei glared and snapped. “Every soldier here matters. Should Hirai Mountain’s position fall, it could collapse the entire Oda forces! Outnumbered as we are against the castle garrison, you must fight like a hundred men while I’m gone.—Don’t follow me!” “Yes, sir!” “Go back!” “Understood…” Crestfallen, the loyal retainer turned back toward the mountain encampment.

Watching that retreating figure and gazing up at Hideyoshi’s encampment, even a warrior of Kanbei’s iron resolve felt his heart being torn asunder. Be that as it may with the retainer he had scolded and sent away, the thought of Hideyoshi’s loneliness pained his heart. It had been barely over ten days since Takenaka Shigeharu—the ailing strategist he had relied upon as his right arm—had left the mountain for Kyoto to convalesce. Now he too was leaving his side. Not that he held himself in high regard, but his lord Hideyoshi had often said—even in his cups—"I consider Hanbei my left arm and Kanbei my right!" And in this autumn at Hirai Mountain, where they faced a hard-fought battle, soon there would be early frost and snow would fall as well. And so Kanbei halted his steed and lingered as though reluctant to depart for some time.

Don’t die. I will not die. Though I had sworn that oath and been granted leave to come this far, when I considered the circumstances ahead and the difficulty of my mission, I could not possibly hope for such fortune as to return alive. You could say there wasn’t even one chance in a hundred. Firmly convinced of this, he—unaware even to himself—looked back upon his retainers’ figures, gazed up at Hideyoshi’s form, and took in Hirai Mountain’s fading silhouette at dusk as though this were their final parting in this life.

This was self-pity—he must cease these delusions. Hōjō Tokimune had declared it first: No backward glances on the warrior’s path. Strike hard and break through! The way lay straight ahead.

The moment he applied the whip, he galloped relentlessly into the night until the horse panted with exhaustion.

Paper pellets

One The scouts’ intelligence network, spread like a web in all directions, was remarkably swift.

Silent messages raced from station to station along the highway.

(Kuroda Kanbei departed from Hirai Mountain)

(Kanbei hurries westward.)

(Kanbei returns to Himeji) Like the wind, these reports raced here repeatedly. From the day this news reached Gochaku Castle, Kodera Masanori and his men had been thrown into panicked commotion. “What’s all this panic for?” barked the conservative elders. “If we fortify our battle preparations toward Himeji, there’ll be nothing to fear! Should crisis strike, the Mōri’s main army will reinforce us whenever needed.”

Ogawa Mikawanokami of the clan, elder statesmen Masuda Magobei, Kuramitsu Masatoshi, and others encouraged the household. Moreover, they used those very words to scold and restrain Lord Masanori himself—their master who would immediately pale and begin to waver at even the mere mention of Kanbei’s name. That Masanori and the elders, (With Kanbei having returned, he would surely base himself at Himeji Castle—mobilizing his father Sōen’s forces and nearby allies while simultaneously requesting aid from the Ukita family—and attack this Gochaku.)

and thus, they had perceived his actions as inevitable.

However, that morning, the words of a scout who had whipped his fast horse and burst through the castle gate as though diving in completely overturned their predictions, "Kanbei arrived in Himeji last night, but for some reason did not enter Himeyama Castle, instead lodging at the home of Yojiemon the eye medicine seller in town, and it appears he is now heading toward this Gochaku this morning."

So he reported.

“What? — He’s coming directly here?” “And how many men does he have with him?”

Though their battle preparations were thorough, the elderly retainers all paled and began firing questions in rapid succession.

The scout answered them. "He's alone. Just a single rider." "What? Kanbei's alone?!" "Moreover, he hasn't brought any attendants either." "What's this?" They wore expressions as though they'd been thrown by a flawless shoulder toss. For a moment, as everyone stared wide-eyed through veils of suspicion, veteran commander Murai Kawachinokami suddenly barked in a tone that brooked no argument: "No—this demands redoubled vigilance. That man—who knows what demonic schemes he's concocting. Stay alert, every one of you!"

Two

Last night, he had hurried to Himeji, but this morning’s Kanbei was composed.

Swaying gently, he rode his famed steed Shosha Mountain along the road to Gochaku—a little over one ri—gazing at the late autumn mountains and fields as he went.

“How grateful I am. This year’s rice harvest seems plentiful.” “The autumn leaves are at their finest.” “And look how cheerful the farmers appear!”

He had been conversing loudly about such matters with the man accompanying him. As for that accompanying man, he was a traveling pilgrim who had been journeying from Himeji, sometimes falling behind and sometimes moving ahead. Though he was but a roadside stranger, Kanbei had been cheerfully engaging him in casual conversation along the way without any reserve. “I must apologize for my rudeness. Since I must pay my respects to Lord Ishison on that mountain, I’ll take my leave here…”

Just as Gochaku Castle came into view in the near distance, the pilgrim suddenly bid farewell and turned down a side path. Kuroda Kanbei watched him leave with a bitter smile. That man too was undoubtedly one of Gochaku’s spies. How many such autumn-fly-like men had he encountered along this road? Before long, he tethered his horse at the castle gate. Then Kanbei announced his return to the guards at the entrance. Exchanging cheerful greetings with all he passed in his usual lively manner, he tried to proceed directly to Masanori’s chambers in the main keep—only for the guards to hurriedly block his path.

"My Lord has been feeling somewhat indisposed and has secluded himself since earlier. Please wait here briefly." they said.

Kanbei pressed forward against them, “On the contrary—if My Lord is unwell, all the more reason I should pay my respects immediately.”

he said, but the guards pressed, “No, it is absolutely not His Lordship’s command to bar your passage. “It is simply His Lordship’s command that you be made to wait a while.” With that, they prepared a room with a futon, served tea and sweets, and under the pretext of their lord’s command, forcibly made him wait there.

Meanwhile, in Masanori’s chambers, the clan members and elderly retainers still huddled together, engrossed in secret discussions. “Killing him is the only way. Now is precisely when he has come to be killed. He for his part must have come here harboring some deep scheme after consulting with Hideyoshi, but the very fact he’s returned alone—without bringing any men—makes this precisely the perfect opportunity. If we don’t stab that root of calamity to our house through right now, we’ll leave regrets lasting a hundred years!”

This was a view shared by clan members like Ogawa Mikawanokami, as well as Masuda Magobei and Kuramitsu Masatoshi, who had been vehemently arguing their case—but one or two of Kodera Masanori’s senior retainers, “If we end his life here, the great obstacle will at last be removed, and it would serve well to clearly demonstrate our stance to the Mōri clan… **but** should word spread that we assassinated him within Gochaku Castle… Sōen of Himeji and the Kuroda faction in the surrounding villages would immediately come attacking en masse.” “Of course, we also have the Mōri clan’s support and could await reinforcements from Bessho Nagaharu at Miki Castle, but if this castle’s defenses cannot hold until then, there will be nothing we can do…… Given how swiftly Kanbei has arrived here, it would now be utterly impossible to coordinate with anyone or send signals in time.”

And so, with objections raised by those who adhered first and foremost to a policy of extreme caution—tapping on a stone bridge before crossing it—their discussions here too found no easy consensus. “Then, what should we do?”

“Even if we say what should be done… but this is too sudden?” As they sat there without a plan, leisurely comparing thoughtful expressions, Kanbei—whether driven by impatience or deliberately seizing the moment—lumbered into the room without awaiting an escort and suddenly appeared behind them, “Ah!” he called out loudly. The elder retainers, the clan members—and more than any other, Kodera Masanori—were thrown into disarray. The pallor of panic showed too vividly on every brow.

But Kanbei, as chief retainer, carried on no differently than during his days of service in this castle, "I have just returned.—May Your Lordship remain ever in good health. To all present—your devoted service during Kanbei’s absence merits deepest gratitude. I offer my thanks. ...Truly, it feels as though a decade has passed since last we met." As if soothing their disarray through his unassuming manner, he labored to revive their former camaraderie.

III

That day, having achieved direct talks with his lord Masanori and sat knee-to-knee discussing matters with the clan elders, Kuroda Kanbei secretly thought: (If I act now, I can still pull him away from both Araki's influence and the Mōri's temptations. Coming back was worth it.) With a slight easing of his brow, he returned that night to his residence outside the castle walls and slept.

He had returned here resolutely maintaining a mindset of openness and clarity. He would harbor no schemes. He would show no anger. He would remain steadfast solely for his liege house, the Kodera family, guided by martial honor. There was only the single virtue of sincerity—with this alone, he would persuade his lord and prevail over the clan elders. If it did not succeed, then so be it—he faced them with this humility. Whether his sincerity had reached them or not, the next morning Eda Zenbei and Murai Kawachinokami came to visit, speaking candidly of various matters before departing. Then, nearing noon, Masuda Magobei arrived once more as an envoy from Lord Masanori to summon him.

“Given your words yesterday and your steadfast loyalty, My Lord appears deeply remorseful this morning.” “Naturally, this recent defection isn’t solely My Lord’s failing—it stems from how our convictions as your aides had weakened during your absence. Yet... My Lord earnestly wishes to confer with you about a matter.” “Would you grant me the honor of accompanying me?”

“Let us go. If His Lordship would but realize that,” Kanbei responded with grave sincerity, “there could be no greater joy for this humble retainer.”

Kanbei quickly prepared himself and went up to the castle. And he met with Lord Masanori alone, just the two of them. At that moment, Masanori made this confession. “As you know, there has been a longstanding acquaintance between Araki Murashige of Settsu and my house since my predecessor’s time.” “Even in my generation, it remains a bond of fate that cannot be severed.” “Now—though I have yet to fully grasp the circumstances—this Murashige has broken from Lord Nobunaga, raised rebellion, and through the Bessho clan of Miki Castle with Mōri mediation, proposed that Gochaku too should join in striking against Hideyoshi in Chūgoku—to speak plainly, that was his entreaty. Yet having heard your earnest admonitions yesterday, for me as Masanori to have lightly assented to this… is truly shameful.” “I am utterly humiliated.” “I hereby offer my humble apologies to you.”

“Your words are too gracious.” “My Lord, there is no need for such contrition toward your vassal Kanbei.” “If you would but deign to open your eyes to this truth, then even should I die here as Kanbei, I would bear no resentment.” “Now then, I earnestly wish to entrust you with a difficult matter—will you see it through?” “—Do you mean... My Lord?”

“I want you to meet with Araki Murashige.” “First, meet with Murashige. Explain my predicament, and with your own convictions, make him understand how reckless it is to now raise arms against Lord Nobunaga—and how relying solely on the Mōri clan’s imposing facade leaves us in a precarious state of fragile dependence. Let these truths take root through your own words.” Suddenly, Kanbei felt his passion and conviction powerfully awakened by his lord’s statement.

He immediately recognized this as a mission of great significance. If he could now persuade even Araki Murashige and make him abandon his reckless course, this would contribute significantly to the broader strategy of the Chūgoku campaign—having reached this conclusion, he promptly declared: "I shall gladly undertake this mission." "And when Lord Murashige abandons his rebellion—"

“Of course, this Masanori will absolutely never abandon the Oda family.” “In the unlikely event that even Kanbei’s efforts—hampered by my own incompetence—fail to make Lord Murashige reconsider his course, what action will you take?” “Though Araki Murashige shares deep ties with us, we have exhausted our goodwill; you may consider our prior consent to him null and void.” “I am deeply grateful for your words. Upon hearing those words, Kanbei feels a strength as if leading a million soldiers. Given that the situation in the Settsu region has suddenly turned dire, I shall take my leave even today.”

“I have also prepared a written missive here. Within the missive, I have thoroughly conveyed the same intent. When you meet Murashige, hand it over personally.” Masanori bestowed a written missive.

Four

As the autumn leaves in the mountains and fields darkened with the deepening dusk, Kuroda Kanbei was already spurring his horse along the highway skirting Himeji.

Whether coming or going, he passed through Himeji yet did not stop at Himeyama Castle where his elderly father and wife resided. But his wife had learned of her husband’s actions and purpose in detail through a message from Yojiemon in the castle town the previous day. Today, having heard from a messenger that her husband would once again pause his horse briefly at Yojiemon’s shop before departing for Settsu, she stood in the shade of the roadside trees waiting for him to pass by—if only from afar.

Knowing this, Yojiemon deliberately detained him and, taking the reins of his horse, escorted him to the edge of town.

“Old man, go back now. This mission too is a perilous task; I can hardly expect to return alive. But if I do survive, I will visit our home at Himeyama someday. Tell Lord Father that I left after saying that... Convey it to him as well. That’s all I need. Now go back. We part here.” Kanbei stopped his horse and dismissed Yojiemon. Yojiemon had stepped away from the horse’s side, yet he did not depart, continuously wiping away his tears. Kanbei noticed this as well. For in the shade of the trees at dusk, he had caught sight of his wife’s pale face beneath her sedan hat.

From atop his horse, he scolded her. “Woman, stay at home! Why don’t you spend your free time keeping Lord Father company instead? Your husband is a man on the battlefield. When have I ever taken off my armor and returned home in triumph? You damned fool!” Even as he scolded her, he was searching for something beneath his armor cloak. Then he rolled it into a paper wad and hurled it toward his wife’s figure. It was the letter from his son Matsuchiyo that had been handed to him by Takenaka Shigeharu at the encampment on Mount Shosha some time before.

The paper wad did not reach where she stood. The young wife, who had been weeping, lunged out to chase after the paper wad rolling away in the evening breeze and picked it up—but by the time she looked back down the road, the famed steed Shosha-yama bearing Kanbei had already vanished into the distant autumn evening mist, galloping off with all its swift legs.

Darkness.

One

On the way, staying overnight at Kakogawa, Kuroda Kanbei trimmed the inn's lamplight, composed a letter, and tucked it into his sleeve.

The next morning, when he reached the highway gate, he encountered Hashiba’s army guarding the strategic route. Kanbei took out the item from his sleeve, “Please deliver this to Lord Chikuzen.” and entrusted the letter before hurrying onward. Needless to say, he would have thoroughly detailed in the letter the subsequent developments and the circumstances that had led him to suddenly depart for Araki Murashige’s Itami Castle.

“I wish I could see your face even once…” Turning toward Hirai Mountain’s direction, he had not been entirely opposed to spending a day or two there—but Settsu’s situation permitted no delay even for half a day, and Gochaku’s aftermath remained as changeable as a cat’s eyes. There was no telling when or how things might shift. With that thought—

“There is nothing better than haste.” With that thought, he could not even bring himself to sip a bowl of hot water at a roadside tea shop. Sure enough, the moment one stepped into Settsu, a palpable tension could be felt even by those merely passing through. From Hyōgo onward, Hanakuma Castle’s soldiers controlled the roads, erected barricades at various points, and established checkpoints, “Where are you going? What’s your business?” It was an imposing road inspection. “I am Kuroda Kanbei, a retainer of Gochaku, journeying to Itami Castle by my lord’s command.” Here, he did not so much as hint that he was part of Hideyoshi’s retinue. However, there was no one who did not know the name Kuroda Kanbei. They couldn’t very well stop him, but they let him pass with looks that warned against complacency. And without fail, a fast horse would pass by from behind afterward and gallop ahead.

It was close now—Itami lay just ahead. Kanbei calmly urged his horse onward and arrived at the pine-lined road near Itami. Then, from the roadside, someone— “Master, it has been far too long.”

A man called out, approached beside his saddle as he turned, and was greeting him with a deep bow.

Two “Oh, if it isn’t Shinpachi!” Kuroda Kanbei dismounted and tethered his horse to a tree’s shadow. Wiping sweat from his face, he settled onto a roadside tree root. “How did you know I was coming?” he inquired. This was Shiroganeya Shinpachi—a goldsmith residing in Itami’s castle town. The man was kin to Yojiemon, Himeji’s eye-medicine seller. Years earlier, when Kanbei first stirred with ambition and fled his homeland to seek Nobunaga in Gifu, he’d lodged at Shiroganeya’s house on Yojiemon’s advice. There he’d changed his travel garb before slipping covertly from Kyoto to Gifu.

“In Itami, your arrival has been the talk of everyone since this morning,” “I heard it from Lord Araki’s household retainers as well.” “Sharp ears indeed… Ah, I see.” “They must have sent fast horses ahead one after another to announce me.” “The roads are strictly controlled, you see.” “Even those of us living in the castle town aren’t allowed to take a single step beyond the domain’s borders.”

“That stands to reason. If the domain’s situation were laid bare to the Oda clan, it would prove inconvenient.” “Will it finally come to open battle with the Oda faction?” “That depends entirely on Lord Murashige’s resolve, but…” “Having already raised the banner of rebellion against Lord Nobunaga, he must naturally be prepared to fight.” “The people from Miki Castle and the Mōri clan’s envoys appear to be streaming through the castle gates without pause.” “Those from Miki Castle likely come over the mountains—but where do the Mōri forces arrive from?”

“They come up from the sea.” “The Honganji followers and others as well.” “Things are certainly bustling here. Lord Murashige must be breathing fire by now... But Shinpachi—you’ve long resided in Itami and served within the castle walls. You must have heard rumors. What could make a man of Araki Murashige’s stature suddenly forge ties with the Mōri clan and resolve to raise a bow against Lord Nobunaga?... Have you heard anything about that?” “Ah, as for that matter, the rumors circulating among the people are varied and full of wild speculation.”

“For example, what kind of things?” “They say Lord Mitsuhide Akechi, the Governor of Hyūga, secretly slandered him to Lord Nobunaga out of envy for Lord Murashige’s military achievements and rapid rise.” “Or they say the Mōri clan maneuvered from their side, luring him in with promises of extraordinary rewards.” “So they’re the usual sort of rumors after all. “Is that the truth?” “No—the truth seems rather different. From what I have gathered, two or three senior retainers of Itami Castle colluded to evade the Oda clan’s strict surveillance and secretly sold large quantities of provisions and grains. When this became known in Azuchi, it appears that was the true cause.”

“That seems plausible. The Osaka Honganji Temple has now had all routes in the Kinai region severed by the Oda forces and has been suffering severe food shortages for some time. Moreover, that very tactic is the focal point of the Oda forces’ strategy. They must be desperate to obtain provisions without restraint. If they sell to them, they could gain enormous profits—so that might be a possibility as well.” “They say that as soon as Lord Murashige returned from the Chūgoku region accompanying Lord Nobutada, he was summoned to Azuchi and either received severe reprimands or was openly berated by Lord Nobunaga. And though he received His Lordship’s command to surrender the culprits, Lord Murashige stubbornly refuses. It seems those culprits are either the father or close relatives of His Lordship’s cherished beauty.”

“Seeing that weakness, the Honganji and Mōri side enticed them with profit—that’s how it went then.” “Does this mean they were so easily taken in by those schemes?”

“I believe that may indeed be the case.” “I can grasp the gist of it. “By the way—have esteemed envoys from Azuchi been visiting Itami Castle frequently as well?” “The envoys have ceased coming these past few days, but once the rebellion became widely known, admonishing messengers arrived repeatedly.” “I have heard that Lord Matsui Yuken, Lord Akechi Mitsuhide, and Lord Manmi Senchiyo—acting on orders from Azuchi—came multiple times to persuade him but departed in vain each time they tried.”

“You’ve told me everything I needed to hear. It was indeed most opportune that I met you before entering the castle. This has proven to be of considerable help in my preparations. Shinpachi—you have my gratitude.” “Though this dwelling is truly humble, since you have graced us with your presence, please deign to make your preparations or rest here awhile.”

“This time my visit to Itami isn’t like before—not just a stop along my journey.” “I must go to the castle immediately.” “If matters conclude as I hope, I’ll surely stop by on my return.” “Let’s see… I must settle this before nightfall.” “Shinpachi—lead the way.” He rose to his feet, untied his horse himself and mounted it, abandoning Shinpachi—who had gone through the trouble of coming out to greet him—as he entered Itami Town and made straight for the castle gates.

Within the Seal

I “Ah, you’ve arrived, Kanbei.”

Araki Murashige was in an excellent humor. Rather, it even bordered on affectation. He had spread his knees wide in a warrior’s seated posture, bent his long elbows against the armrest, causing his body to lean slightly askew. Compared to the rough-hewn ridges of his muscles and the shadow of his blue beard, the delicate woman fanning him from the side seemed excessively elegant. “You remain unchanged as ever. Ah, you seem more vigorous than ever.”

“What nonsense, Kanbei! Do you imagine this one would alter so swiftly?” “You and I met but recently at the Chūgoku encampment.” “Ah—when withdrawing from Kozuki Castle, I glimpsed you before Lord Nobutada’s headquarters.” “Precisely—yet you speak as though years had passed since our last meeting.” “—Some quality compelled this sudden impression within me.” “To the degree of questioning my own recognition.” “Why? What gives rise to such feeling?” “Why would you sense this?” “Upon reflection—though neither person nor time has changed—the shifting nature of human hearts might have led this one to perceive matters thus.”

“—” Murashige made an unpleasant face. The girl had packed the ceramic pipe with nanban tobacco and had been timidly proffering it for some time now, but though he glanced toward it, he did not take it.

He shifted the elbow rest that had been on the left to the right side, adjusted its position, and reversed its angle— "Hm, hm, hm..." he laughed—a first since Kanbei's arrival. Then abruptly pivoted—

“How fares Lord Chikuzen? Is he in good health?” he inquired.

Kanbei likewise cast aside that response and, disregarding the topic that had been broached earlier, "My master Kodera Masanori wished me to convey his most earnest regards to you," he said. Murashige fluttered his eyelids—which bore faint pockmark scars— "Are you presently at Gochaku?" "Or stationed at Hirai Mountain?"

“I have returned to Gochaku.” “I see. How many days?” “It has been but recently.” “Then does that mean you have come today not as a messenger from Lord Chikuzen, but as one from Lord Kodera?” “That is correct—this was also an oversight on this one’s part. First, I humbly ask that you deign to peruse this letter from my lord Masanori.” “Well…” He motioned with his chin for the maid to handle the message, then—for the first time—took the tobacco from the girl’s hand with his free one, inhaled a deep puff, and handed it back.

The letter was unsealed right before Kanbei's eyes. As he read through it, complex hues shifted across Araki Murashige's face. He was fundamentally an honest man. It was the face of one unable to cloak the emotional colors stirring within.

Kanbei was watching. Of course, he could not read the letter itself, but by reading the reflection in the man’s countenance, he made its contents not difficult to discern.—“The wise man drowns in his own wisdom.”

In hindsight, the greatest failure of Kuroda Kanbei's life lay precisely in this misreading of the situation.

II From Kanbei's perspective, if Kodera Masanori had been earnestly urging Murashige through that document to submit to Nobunaga, then Murashige's altered countenance stood to reason—nay, it showed just how emphatically his lord Masanori had stressed this in the letter's contents—and so he nodded alone in silent assent.

But here's the thing. What could he have anticipated? The contents of Masanori's letter were beyond all expectation. That is to say, Masanori found it highly unwise to assassinate Kanbei with his own hands, and anticipating disturbances in the surrounding regions, in the letter he had written— We have dispatched Kanbei, chief retainer of our house, as envoy to your domain. However, as this man has ever been a staunch devotee of the Oda faction, while he remains present, any alliance between the Mōri and your esteemed self shall prove difficult to implement. I earnestly request that you seize this opportunity to run him through within your castle walls and ensure he never returns to the Chūgoku region again—

such was the purport that had been written therein.

With the very person in question standing before him—the honest Murashige could not help but start and change color. Murashige was utterly panicked. Yet Kanbei—whose strategic brilliance was acknowledged by both himself and others—had misread it entirely. Later, people would lament why he had not verified the letter’s intent midway through such perilous circumstances, but after all, he had come bearing his master’s missive as a retainer. Even knowing a death curse might be sealed within, breaking the seal to steal a glance would be unforgivable for a warrior and bring shame upon Kanbei himself.

In any case, here in Itami Castle’s keep—a place where rebellion had been raised, where men viewed the world through bloodshot eyes, and battles could erupt without warning come tomorrow—the very air thrummed with murderous intent. Kanbei’s life was already no longer Kanbei’s own. Together with Masanori’s letter, it was now clutched in Araki Murashige’s hands. “Hmm, Lord Kodera has deigned to send his counsel here.” “I am grateful for your concern, but regarding Lord Settsu-no-kami’s current initiative, there are details that cannot be fully expressed in words.” “Kanbei, first make yourself comfortable. Let’s have a leisurely talk.” “How about it—won’t you move over there?”

Murashige muttered to himself in this manner, then ordered his retainers to prepare food and drink, abruptly stood up first, and once again faced Kanbei, “We’ll speak properly later. “I will state my intentions. “I’ll have someone guide you now; wait over there.” With those words, he withdrew into the inner chambers. A young attendant came to suggest a bath, but Kanbei refused. And then he requested hot water.

The one who brought the hot water was a member of the tea ceremony attendants. He urged politely.

“The preparations for the Betsuma room are complete. Since it is cooler over there than here, might I suggest you move to that side?” “Then I shall entrust myself to your guidance.” Kanbei followed the attendant and proceeded onward. Though late autumn, the lingering summer heat hung unbearably oppressive. He abruptly recalled the chillier autumn at Hirai Mountain’s encampment. He pictured Hideyoshi’s figure. “Please, this way.”

Just when he thought they had arrived, the tea ceremony attendants proceeded to the next room. It was a room of about twenty tatami mats, with many walls and no furnishings of note. When they saw him settle onto the cushion, the tea ceremony attendants immediately rose from their unsettled positions, “At this very moment, my lord will shortly arrive.”

With that, they began to leave as if fleeing.

III

Due to the room's layout and the tea ceremony attendant's behavior, Kuroda Kanbei immediately and intuitively sensed that something was amiss,

“Wait. “Wait, Tea Ceremony Attendant!” he called out to stop him. The moment he was called from behind, the tea ceremony attendant scrambled away in a panicked rush. Kanbei then tried to fiercely rush out into the corridor—but it was already too late. Araki Murashige’s retainers came with bare spears. Like hawks, they leapt into another room. There too were men lying in wait with hand and leg shackles at the ready. No sooner had they sprung up than they roughly grappled Kanbei. He shook them off with all his might. The roof groaned as if its beams were shaking. They threw him, but Kanbei too fell down with equal force. Immediately, four or five warriors charged in bodily. Kanbei’s two legs sent those enemies flying at least four or five times. But he quickly realized the futility of it all. For in an instant, the room had become so densely packed with Araki’s retainers and their blades that neither walls nor sliding doors remained visible.

“What will you do with this one?” Kanbei sat up straight. Of course, both his arms were already bound behind his back with coarse rope. Blood was flowing from an abrasion on his cheekbone where it had rubbed against the tatami. “Please rise. We know nothing of the matter—we merely act under our lord’s command to escort you.” “I see. By Lord Settsu-no-kami’s command?”

Having declared this, he said nothing more and allowed himself to be led away without resistance. This was not atop the castle tower, but the path they were being led along required descending dark stairways twice. Kanbei could no longer suppress the premonition that he would soon smell his own blood nor the chilling cold creeping up from the roots of his bristling hair. Step by step, as he descended the stairs, he harbored self-mockery—even if one resolves oneself to death at any moment in daily life, when actually faced with that moment, this physiological terror proves utterly unconquerable.

“Hey! Is anyone there? Won’t someone bring a light and lead the way?”

The warriors clustered together and stood still.

It was a darkness and coldness as though one had descended to the bottom of a swamp. Gazing around the cavernous basement where only thick pillars were visible, Kuroda Kanbei— “So, this is it—my place of death.” With that, he finally discovered—and at the same time felt—a sense of inner peace.

Suspicion

I

The deeper the adversity he faced, the stronger he became. He who turned each adversity into a stepping stone, carving out new destinies that defied others' expectations as he advanced with unyielding resolve—even that Nobunaga had indeed tasted profound anguish these past several dozen days amid this crisis. There could be no doubt that he harbored profound fury in his heart toward Araki Murashige's rebellion, which had forced this bitter cup upon him as lord, yet he suppressed even that fury and remained still,

(Patience too is strategy. If treated as military strategy, even patience becomes bearable.) Having suppressed his own temperament, he had striven these past two months to contain the incident internally—dispatching appeasement envoys repeatedly to Itami while attempting to placate Murashige—yet surveying these efforts now made evident how profoundly Itami's betrayal and its repercussions had wounded him. However, all those appeasements and placating measures ultimately proved utterly ineffective.

The fact that Nobunaga had first dispatched Matsui Yuken, the Imperial Envoy and Dharma Seal—who was close to Murashige—to persuade him, then sent Akechi Mitsuhide, Lord of Hyūga, to press the appeal further, and even appointed Manmi Senchiyo as an envoy once more—that he had earnestly admonished Murashige three times in his lord’s name, however nominally, to urge prudence—demonstrated how Nobunaga had truly endured what should never have been endured, thereby laying bare how gravely his position had been plunged into adversity. The Chūgoku campaign had only just begun yet already encountered setbacks that made favorable prospects difficult to foresee, while the Osaka Honganji forces grew increasingly rampant as they gauged the moment to launch their offensive. Moreover, when surveying the eastern provinces, was not a new alliance between Kai and Sagami provinces being formed through the marriage between Hojo Ujimasa’s daughter and Takeda Katsuyori? This too blew across the Oda clan like a dark north wind—another layer of anxiety added to their burdens.

“……I was mistaken.”

Nobunaga realized. "If he continued being distracted by appeasement strategies and let days slip by,in all likelihood every measure would prove futile,and they would meet with utter catastrophe.—Yes,Nobunaga must act as only Nobunaga’s innate nature dictates."

He discarded the half-hearted "treatment."

Then he departed Azuchi, assembled a large army at Nijō New Palace, and deployed forces throughout Settsu province.

II

At this critical juncture.

It was at this critical juncture that word of Kuroda Kanbei’s situation reached Nobunaga’s ears.

“What? Kanbei is imprisoned within Itami Castle?…” “...”

Though he had also heard the full circumstances, the moment Nobunaga learned of this development, his eyes abruptly flashed with suspicion.

As is often the case with those of keen intuition, that very acuity could twist into suspicion. Nobunaga did not accept as fact what he heard based solely on the surface-level reasons and circumstances. “Who ordered Kanbei to advise Araki Murashige? Even Hideyoshi would not do such a thing without my permission. He claims to have brought Lord Kodera Masanori’s letter, but does that very act not defy comprehension? After all, Kodera of Gochaku now clearly shows rebellious intent in collusion with Murashige—so why would you send Kanbei to counsel him at this late hour?”

The emotions he had suppressed until now—having found this small volcanic vent as he spoke thus to the generals flanking him—erupted in fury. “That schemer deceived Lord Chikuzen and undoubtedly entered Itami Castle. He was told by Kodera to join Murashige’s war council and contribute his strategic wisdom, and was also invited by Murashige himself—thus he must have slipped in deceptively. For why else would Murashige keep him alive within the castle walls? Because he was well-informed about Hideyoshi’s military situation in the field and thoroughly acquainted with our Oda clan’s internal affairs, Murashige has bought him. As a schemer, that’s exactly the sort of thing he’d do…”

Nobunaga concluded his own muttering with self-mockery. However, once he opened his tightly pressed lips, he coldly issued this cruel command to Sakuma Uemon, who stood at his side. “Immediately dispatch a letter to Lord Chikuzen.—‘Have him cut off and present the head of Kanbei’s hostage Matsuchiyo, who has been entrusted to him.’”

“Understood.”

Sakuma Nobumori, too, bowed his head composedly before his lord’s command. As for that matter, he had indeed entrusted it entirely to Nobumori, but Nobunaga separately dictated a military order to Hideyoshi in Chūgoku and had his scribe transcribe it. Attack the Kodera of Gochaku and, in one stroke, crush Kuroda Sōen of Himeji Castle as well.

That was the military decree.

III

Takayama Ukon of Takatsuki Castle and Nakagawa Kiyohide, castellan of Ibaraki Castle, were both wings of Araki Murashige’s forces centered on Itami. After deploying a large army and advancing his headquarters from Yamazaki to Tennōzan, Nobunaga succeeded in persuading these two to surrender. Since Takayama Ukon was a devout Christian, Nobunaga skillfully forced Takatsuki to open its gates by using his spiritual mentor Organtino. Meanwhile, Nakagawa Kiyohide—who had never truly agreed with Murashige’s rebellion from the outset—swiftly came to Nobunaga’s camp to apologize for his wrongdoing.

“Well done, well done! You’ve come to your senses. To swiftly recognize your error and correct your course—that is what befits a true warrior. Even I, Nobunaga, will harbor no lingering resentment.”

To pledge both his own joy and their reassurance, Nobunaga rewarded the two surrendered generals with vast amounts of gold and silver alongside rewards and honors. This too revealed what lay deepest in his heart: how Nobunaga had agonized over this incident yet found joy even in this single resolution. ——And so. The full-scale assault on Itami Castle finally began in December. Yet it did not fall. Indeed, only the tenaciously self-assured Araki forces could have withstood such an onslaught.

During that fierce assault, one of the besieging commanders, Manmi Senchiyo, fell in battle. They launched such fierce attacks and pressed up to the castle walls multiple times, but Itami Castle did not budge. “To rush further is folly. If left alone, it will fall on its own.” Nobunaga constructed fortresses at key strategic points, implemented what became known as a prolonged siege strategy, and by year’s end returned to Azuchi. He then divided half his forces to rapidly reinforce Harima Province while simultaneously tightening the blockade to completely sever communications with the Hongan-ji faction. All such military dispositions were thoroughly reorganized in anticipation that this opportunity would see the great Mōri army advancing eastward by land and sea.

In Nobunaga’s assessment, Murashige’s bravado stemmed not from his own strength but from reliance on a pre-rebellion pact—the expectation that Mōri Terumoto’s naval forces would soon arrive en masse at Settsu’s shores. Nobunaga had already discerned these subtleties and the broader situation with remarkable speed.

Lice and Wisteria Flowers

I

"...Wall-gazing... Wall-gazing... Another day of wall-gazing. How many days must I glare into this darkness before I can gaze upon the sun?"

Kanbei thought to himself alone.

Today too, morning had broken somewhere. But no—the year too had already passed; Tenshō 6 was long gone. He believed this year must be Tenshō 7, yet doubted whether even spring had arrived. "Those who never see daylight are weak creatures. When one basks in sunlight, one scarcely gives it thought... But ah, Zen and resolve—they too exist because one gazes upon the sun. So this is how it is." He gave a solitary wry smile. Counting on his fingers, the six months since last October had been spent amid such solitary musings and darkness, living like a living corpse. During that time, what from his daily life had been of use?

First, he had a healthy body, but even that he could no longer be certain of by now. He had not taken a single bath nor wiped himself with water; his skin had become like pine bark from grime and the winter’s cold. Just when he thought it had grown slightly warmer, mysterious boils began to break out all over his body. Pustules had erupted all the way to the roots of his hair.

As for food, it consisted solely of what the guards provided twice daily—morning and evening—through the sturdy, rough-barred window: exactly the sort of meals given to prisoners. But by turning the unpolished rice and vegetables into paste in his mouth—chewing them with ten times his usual patience before swallowing—he had managed to absorb a considerable amount of nutrients. Rather, the greater difficulty lay in his inability to exercise. There had been times when he would shuffle about like a caged tiger within this prison cell, but lately—likely due to weakness—it had become utterly exhausting. The provisions alone were no longer enough. When he starved too severely, the empty stomach bag would thrash wildly in his belly with unbearable agony.

“Best to stay perfectly still.”

He sat himself in zazen. Since his youth, he had endeavored to practice Zen, but it now appeared that far from fully committing to it, his efforts had been mere imitation; when he became conscious of this, he found himself prone to a mental state that only stirred up delusions. ——And so, in the end, he resolved to do nothing—to simply exist as he was, in a daze. When he grew slightly drowsy, he slept. If he wanted to open his eyes, he opened them. If his eyes half-closed, then they remained half-closed— "How tenaciously life clings to itself."

Even I myself was impressed by this tenacity. He knew full well that others would surely think—What purpose does living serve? Better to die—yet still he did not want to die. But this reluctance—he did not consider it something to be ashamed of even when he reflected on it himself. Even if he were to see the light of day again，it was not that he clung to a life without purpose. "I have many things to accomplish." He clung to that conviction—truly. It was life itself that begrudged its burning—life that he believed no one but he could sustain in this world’s work.

"If I were to die here like this—"

And so, he felt regret.

“...Don’t struggle. Don’t grind your teeth. Even if you dwell on it, there’s no use.” “Even if you dwell on it, there’s no use.” Rather than resisting, he appeared as one soothing his own existence—and on days when faint light streamed through the high window here, he would gaze vacantly at lice crawling across his knees and sleeves. The wind remained his only comforting companion.

II

"Ah! ...A wisteria vine has wound its way up there."

One day.

He opened his eyes wide in astonishment. For he had discovered, on the thick zelkova frame of the high window cut into the eastern wall, the tip of a vine bearing exquisitely tender wisteria buds.

"Ah. It seems there’s a wisteria trellis outside there." For the first time, he realized it. "So that’s how I discerned it. Wisteria trellises are often found by ponds. Night after night—and sometimes during the day—I’d wondered about those strange sounds outside. Could they have been fish thrashing in a pond? No wonder it’s so humid..." This day brought him joy. That scant green vine with tender sprouts comforted him. From the next morning onward, he would look up immediately upon waking. Though brief, when pale morning light fell upon it, its beauty grew more radiant. And unfailingly, the vine stretched an inch or two longer each day.

Yet even as he gazed upon that, spring had already passed and summer was drawing near. Ever since then, in this castle, all that could be heard was the sound of fish leaping—how had the affairs of the world unfolded? He felt a faint anguish. No—perhaps he no longer even possessed the vitality to wail. When he thought of the world—more than his child or his wife—his tears would not stop. He pondered Hideyoshi’s current state at the Hirai Mountain encampment, and his mind overflowed with endless imaginings—Nobunaga’s position, the movements in Kinai, the situation in Saigoku, developments in Togoku, and more.

Around early December of last year, he had heard unusual noises for several days centered around this castle. At that very moment— (So it has come to battle.) (So Lord Oda’s forces have laid siege.) His heart leapt alone, and at the same time he steeled his resolve for any eventuality—but the days that would force death upon him never came after that, and since then, even the thrilling battle cries of besieging forces had ceased abruptly. “The Oda forces’ situation is unfavorable... "If by any chance the Mōri naval forces were to land along Settsu’s coast with their ships in full formation, it would not stop at just Araki, Takayama, or Nakagawa Kiyohide—defectors hoisting rebel banners would emerge everywhere until Azuchi found itself trapped in an unmanageable siege... No, no—perhaps that worst-case scenario has already come to pass."

When he dwelled on this, Kanbei’s will to live now diminished day by day. No matter where he searched within himself, he found nothing but ruin awaiting discovery. "Death? Never!"

One day, when he abruptly recalled that resolve, he found himself wanting to die—utterly defenseless. The flesh of bone and skin that sustained life was waging such a battle against daily torment. Like a lamp wick that had burned out, when his mental strength declared its depletion, even if left as it was—even without any blade or other force applied—his body seemed ready to collapse like rotten wood and perish. “Wait.”

He said to himself. With desperation as palpable as dripping oily sweat, he commanded his own flesh.

"I can die at any time. Wait a little longer... Oh, that wisteria vine on the high window had grown lush over time, and now bore short clusters ready to bloom. That's right—I'll wait and see whether those flowers bloom white wisteria or pale purple." Perhaps due to the poor sunlight, the clusters hung down but bloomed sluggishly. "Ah, it flowered this morning... Was it purple?" How many days had it been? In the morning light filtering through, he saw vivid wisteria blossoms. He crawled beneath the window and stretched his hand upward, but the flower clusters remained beyond reach.

Yet the scent spilling from the pale morning sunlit purple clusters assaulted Kanbei's face with intoxicating force. He lay supine, mouth agape like an imbecile in rapture. "...An auspicious sign." Suddenly he cried out. Though lacking strength to leap up, his entire body convulsed with greater urgency than any physical spring. Uncharacteristic color flushed his forehead. "For wisteria to bloom in prison—such impossibility. Neither Chinese annals nor our own land's records hold precedent. ...Don't perish. A heavenly revelation—wait and it shall flower. Yes—divine revelation."

He clasped his hands together and prayed to the wisteria flowers. From his sleeve cuffs, lice crawled out and frolicked in the faint shadow of the morning sun and the scent of wisteria.

The Ageless Retiree

Part I

In many ways, his unexpected calamity sent ripples through society. Precisely because he had until just moments ago been a leading figure leaping across the realm’s vibrant stage, his sudden disappearance made the world’s suspicions hardly unfounded.

However, above all else, those who received the greatest shock were Kuroda Kanbei’s clansmen and the people of Himeji Castle, his birthplace. Above all, it was his elderly father Sōen and Kanbei’s wife, still in the bloom of youth. “Was it a premonition? On that day of parting—though I braced myself for your usual reprimand over my impropriety—I went to see you off as far as the row of trees beneath the castle, keeping my distance… Yet now I realize… your complexion… your bearing… even then showed signs of something amiss.”

And so his wife lamented over and over again, clutching the letter from Matsuchiyo that her husband had tossed to her during their parting, until at last she lay upon her sickbed, her pillow too sodden with tears to lift her head.

“What are you sniveling about?!” “The wife of a samurai—” Even as he scolded her thus, Father-in-law Sōen never softened. For the more he tried to console her, the more it would endlessly agitate her woman’s heart. This man, who was normally gentle toward his daughter-in-law, had for the past ten days or so given her nothing but scoldings as fierce as a demon’s. No, not just his daughter-in-law. Though he was already advanced in years and lived in retirement-like seclusion, once word came that his son Kanbei had been imprisoned in Itami and his survival thereafter remained uncertain, this white-haired old crane—

"The rise and fall of our clan and retainers now truly stands at hand." "Even aged as Kuroda Sōen may be—would I sit idly by and watch this house’s ruin?!" Summoning the vigor of twenty years prior, he glared like a boulder at the household members sunk in grief, exhorting them morning and night: “Do not panic! Do not falter! Do not despair! For I am still here in Himeji!” In any case, once the tragic news spread, the comings and goings around Himeyama grew solemn. People’s eyes turned bloodshot with urgency; entering the gates felt like stepping into a boiling cauldron. Already, those clan retainers who had sworn to share death without wavering loyalty were gathering here in quick succession, their heels nearly treading upon one another.

And through those people, a desperate rescue squad for Kanbei was formed.

The Kumano Gōō oath paper explicitly stated that any violation would incur divine punishment from all deities of Japan—the great and small gods, Hachiman Great Bodhisattva, Atagoyama Gongen, and the local tutelary deities. ――If one were to later see the names of those loyal retainers who affixed their blood-sealed signatures beneath that oath paper, Mori Yosobei—Kitamura Rokubei Katsuyoshi—Kikuchi Kyūzaemon—Nagata Sansuke—Fujita Jinbei—Mihara Uemon, same lineage—Ogawa Yosozaimon—Kuriyama Zensuke—Gotō Uemon—Miyata Jihei—Morita Tahei

Among these members was a document addressed to “Lord of the Main Keep,” on which appeared the date of Tenshō 6 (1578), Eleventh Month, Fifth Day (November 5).

II

The alliance of the Desperate Rescue Squad to save their lord and their joint pledge were immediately formed, but before such a policy could be decisively settled, the clan members’ anguish and indecision were far from one-sided; there were tumultuous debates, and radical plans for a suicidal charge were earnestly considered. “If we press Murashige to rescue Lord Kanbei, we inevitably must side with Murashige." “If we do so, we must resolve ourselves that Lord Matsuchiyo—the hostage entrusted to Lord Nobunaga—will inevitably forfeit his life. Conversely, if our faction demonstrates unwavering loyalty to the Oda side to protect Lord Matsuchiyo’s life, then Lord Kanbei’s life—now imperiled in Murashige’s prison—will ultimately be impossible to preserve.”

This was the dilemma that plagued the clan faction members before they could settle on a course of action—the very fulcrum where their debates pivoted. In truth, should they strive to save their lord, they must abandon his hostage to death; should they protect the young lord hostage, they would doom their imprisoned master. ……The crux lay in breaking through this dire impasse. Yet though they wept tears of blood and ground their teeth in fury, no stratagem emerged to safeguard both.

“Yet to inform the retired Lord Sōen and Her Ladyship on her sickbed of this matter and inquire what course to take… No one could bring themselves to utter such wounding words…” For several days, the retainers had been secretly conferring among themselves, but inevitably word reached Sōen’s ears. Then one night, he abruptly appeared before the assembled group. “To waver would be folly. “I had settled this matter in my heart long ago.”

And thus, as the family elder, he handed down his decisive judgment. His verdict was this: “Abandon Kanbei. That is all.” “For this reason: Kanbei went to Itami Castle under our lord’s command and was imprisoned through Murashige’s vile scheme.” “People of virtue and vice alike—under heaven’s gaze, who would not condemn him as wicked?” “Even should my son Kanbei be slain in that prison, to perish fulfilling his lord’s command is a samurai’s true duty.” “Not even I, Sōen, shall harbor regrets!” “……Should our Himeji faction succumb to sentimental attachments—should we now break our sworn pact with Lord Nobunaga, betraying righteousness and forsaking honor—then even were Kanbei to return alive, we would forfeit all claim to warrior’s name or pride.” “We would merely live in disgrace, scavenging stipends among men-at-arms. What worth has a life born human yet treading the samurai’s path?…… No deliberation remains.” “Abandon Kanbei to his fate! Cast him aside without hesitation and forge our strategy!”

The retired Sōen said this and immediately returned to the inner chambers. He pretended not to hear the muffled sobs of the solemn crowd left behind—

The Kumano Gōō Oath Paper was indeed brought out immediately after this. And thirteen men affixed their blood seals. “Now that we have clearly witnessed Lord Sōen’s resolve, it is as though we possess the strength of a hundred men.” “We have no disloyalty to the Oda side.” “We cannot leave Araki Murashige’s treachery unpunished. Yet as retainers, abandoning our lord in prison to his death is utterly unthinkable.” “We thirteen members will infiltrate enemy territory within Itami Castle, each altering our appearances. Even if we must endure any hardship—be it lying on firewood or tasting gall—may Hachiman Great Bodhisattva and our local tutelary deities bear witness! At the cost of our very lives, we shall surely rescue Lord Kanbei!”

Thus did they swear their single-minded resolve to heaven, earth, and all deities. Thus these thirteen members alone had resolved to slip away from Himeji and infiltrate Itami, yet before departing, they found themselves compelled to rigorously fortify Himeji Castle's defenses.

Centered on the Lord of the Main Keep—that is, the retired Sōen—the remaining 留守組 were also selected to consist solely of those resolved to die. This was because, owing to longstanding relations, even within Himeji there were many retainers from outside families who had come as attendants from the Kodera family of Gochaku. Sōen declared.

“This was not something we sought from the beginning,” declared Sōen, “but the Kodera and Kuroda families have finally reached such discord that they now stand clearly opposed as enemies. Therefore, all you attendant retainers who came to our house from the Kodera family need show no hesitation—each should prepare your belongings and return to your former masters. You have served us faithfully through many years, and it is not our wish to part ways in this manner today—yet this too is but an unavoidable consequence of the chaos that plagues our present age. Yet overcoming these mutual hardships and trials is but the work that will lead us to the day when turmoil subsides and peace is restored... Let us share this parting cup, and meet joyously on tomorrow’s battlefield.”

Afterward, it turned into a grand feast where cups were bestowed upon all present. Yet even when this farewell banquet ended, not one person made preparations to depart or declared their intention to return to Kodera. The next morning, bearing a bundled oath document, nearly all former Kodera attendants appeared before Sōen to petition for permanent inclusion in the Kuroda household. Naturally this brought immense joy to Sōen and the entire household; their petition was approved, and from that day forth they were formally enrolled as full-fledged house retainers.

"I leave the rest to you." The thirteen-member desperate squad, having confirmed the ironclad defenses of their home front were now fully secured, departed individually for enemy territory in Itami between year's end and spring.

Mounted on the Donkey of Anguish

I “A lapse most unlike Kanbei…” When Hideyoshi learned of his whereabouts, he let out a solitary cry of lamentation.

“To fall prey to Murashige’s cunning schemes… That’s most unlike a wise man,” he muttered. But he sank into deep contemplation amidst his worries, yet also considered that perhaps it was not so. Most of those hailed as wise men and master strategists in this world were shallow and petty-minded. Kanbei lacked that. He had heart. He had honesty. He had even a facet that could be called foolishly honest. "As a military man, this blunder was by no means his disgrace. In weighing the matter, the reason Araki Murashige had not yet killed him was that he still clung to some lingering attachment toward him, seeking to make him a tool for his own faction." "Heaven still deigned to grant him life."

At his encampment on Mount Hirai—even as he faced the still-unfallen Miki Castle and harbored a heart heavy with sorrow—Hideyoshi prayed daily from afar for Kanbei's heavenly mandate. And with thoughts spanning a thousand autumns, he awaited how swiftly his lord Nobunaga's forces would storm Itami Castle and crush its traitors. However, Nobunaga's command was, unexpectedly,

(Kanbei’s actions betray treacherous intent. Immediately divide your forces and attack Himeji. Then capture his father Sōen and the entire clan.) Thus came the command. Beneath his melancholy thoughts, Hideyoshi summoned a smile that never reached his face. For he had long steeled himself to comprehend Nobunaga’s suspicions—to the point of muttering, “This begins anew.”

Does that man not understand?

That alone struck him as perplexing. Yet when he considered Azuchi’s current predicament, he could also understand how such feelings might arise—indeed, from afar, he perceived his lord’s heart with deep sympathy. “We need only bide our time. The crime of not swiftly obeying your command is solely due to Hideyoshi’s inadequate merits—if I steel myself for your subsequent rebuke…”

He kept that matter hidden in his heart alone. But along with it came an issue that could no longer remain concealed.

That concerned the disposition of the hostage Matsuchiyo. It had now been reported in detail by Shigeharu himself that Sakuma Nobumori, as Nobunaga’s envoy, had visited Takenaka Shigeharu—who was living in austere seclusion within Nanzen-ji Temple’s precincts in Rakuchū, wholly devoted to recuperating from illness. (According to what Lord Nobumori conveyed, Lord Nobunaga had been provoked into extraordinary fury by Lord Kuroda’s own actions.) If Lord Kuroda’s hostage remained in Lord Chikuzen’s custody, there was a strict command to immediately behead him. Since Lord Sakuma had even involved me in that decision, I naturally possessed no grounds for refusal, and thus respectfully conveyed my agreement. (By the time this letter reached your hands, Lord Sakuma would likely have issued a similar order to you, but I deemed it prudent to report the above without delay.)

The contents were along these lines.

At this, even Hideyoshi was utterly perplexed. Tears suddenly threatened to spill from the excessively fierce and icy flame of Nobunaga’s affection. He could not help but resentfully think from Kanbei’s perspective that there was no need for matters to reach such extremes. But even here, he quickly shifted gears, completely renewing his heart with brightness,

“His is a fiery personality,” he reflected. “Warm in ordinary times, but when stirred to blaze and flame, he consumes both others and himself... When burning fiercely, nothing reaches his ears.” Having thus steadied his own heart, he composed his reply to Takenaka Shigeharu: (Do not disregard Lord Nobunaga’s commands from Azuchi. All matters are entrusted to your discretion. Serve without fail by keeping Hideyoshi’s intentions in mind.)

he sent it with these words.

II

The cold lingered, with snow still visible on the plum branches. Spring had come, and it was early February.

In the bitterly cold Keage basin where the chill seeped into one's bones, there emerged from a room in Nanzen-ji Temple a gaunt young man of scholarly bearing who mounted his horse at the temple gate and rode away. It was Shigeharu Hanbei—who had secluded himself in this temple cell since last autumn and devoted himself solely to medicine and recuperation—now seriously ill. The attendant consisted of only a single samurai. The samurai carried even his master’s medicine in the pack on his back. “Aren’t you cold?” “You’ve been coughing frequently, my lord.”

“The outside remains cold,” Hanbei observed. “We’ll grow accustomed to this bitter east wind soon enough. The cough will subside once the sun grows warmer.” “Might you wear a hood?” his attendant suggested. Hanbei shook his head. “Even uncovered faces draw sharp eyes these days. Should I walk veiled in daylight, whispers would spread—‘Shigeharu Hanbei schemes anew.’” The affair of Kuroda Kanbei weighed heavily on his heart. A chill as cutting as February’s easterly gusts seemed to pierce his very philosophy of life.

In his youth, he had secluded himself in the mountains; persuaded by Hideyoshi, he finally emerged, and though he had walked every path—through blood-stained streets and dangerous roads of the world—for over a decade since, his heart remained in those mountains, never fully becoming one of the townspeople. My only prayer was, If only Lord Chikuzen might attain his rightful position even a day sooner—may that day come when he shares the joy of peace with all people.

He had prayed solely for that and taken only that assistance as his duty, but his condition grew more dire with each passing year. (Until then, staying alive would be difficult with my health as it is.) Lately, he too had come to accept this fact alone. Therefore, he thought his long-cherished hope would have to be satisfied with first seeing at least some resolution in the Chūgoku front. Without confiding in friends or even Hideyoshi, he always kept among his personal effects a Buddhist robe and rosary. For he had been earnestly wishing that when that day came, he could request leave from Hideyoshi and ascend to Kōya to listen to the songs of Japanese bush warblers—if only for a year before his life ended.

"Whether they come true or not," he mused inwardly with bittersweet resolve, "holding wishes brings joy... though they will likely never bear fruit." The Chūgoku campaign too would defy swift resolution—this truth settled coldly within him like winter earth. Yet through clenched teeth came his warrior’s creed: "Should fate decree it thus—let me perish on battlefields with blade in hand." Even now—even now—the thought lingered.

The horse bearing his ailing frame entered the Mino Road after two nights of lodging. And then, with legs as slow as a donkey’s, it pressed onward into the western mountains.

They arrived at Hōdaiyama Castle in Mino Iwamura.

It was nothing more than a small castle in a mountain village. However, to welcome their lord who had returned after a long absence, the entire household stood at the castle gate to greet him. Upon entering the castle, Hanbei immediately asked an elder retainer. “Has Kuroda-dono’s hostage remained unchanged? Did he pass through this winter without catching a cold?” The elder retainer looked out over the castle’s flat garden from the veranda and pointed toward the distant area where the mountain grass appeared yellowish. “Do take a look—today as well, they’ve gathered the household’s children and are running wild with vigor, just as you see there.”

“Let me see, let me see...” Hanbei too rose from his sickbed and went there. He was a man who carried the orders from Azuchi in his heart. In his eyes lurked a profound sorrow that could not be concealed.

The Children of Hōdaiyama

I

There were many mischievous children in the household as well. But though he had parents, among those children, Matsuchiyo was the only one who had been taken far from their care to become a hostage in another province. “Oh... Uncle!” Matsuchiyo, who had been engrossed in play with a crowd of children, suddenly noticed the figure of Shigeharu Hanbei standing on the edge of the main keep; the moment he saw him, he abandoned his friends and came running over. “—Uncle.” “Welcome back.”

“Oh, O-Matsu,” “You look well.” “It’s been so long since you last visited me at all, Uncle. I was terribly lonely.” “Uncle,” “When did you return?” “Just now.” “Just now?” “Yes.” “I hadn’t any idea.”

In the garden, Matsuchiyo stood on tiptoes and clutched the hem of the hakama belonging to the man on the veranda. He played around, wrapping his face in the hem of his hakama. (How clingy he is. It must be because he’s been separated from his parents and is being raised by distant strangers.) The more he saw this, the more Hanbei’s heart swelled with pity. “Come on up. I’ll give you souvenirs from the capital.” He gave him sweets he had brought from Nanzen-ji and played with the boy for a while.

It had already been two years since they had taken him into their care from Nagahama and raised him in this mountain castle; Matsuchiyo was now twelve. The Kuroda family had sent attendants such as Iguchi Hyōsuke and Ōno Kurōzaemon to serve as tutors, but the Takenaka family had also been treating him almost as if he were their lord Hanbei’s legitimate heir. They had assigned him instructors in academic studies and martial arts, and had protected and raised him like a precious jewel.

The day after his return.

Hanbei walked alone at the foot of Hōdaiyama. He had come to visit his ancestors' graves.

As if they had been waiting for his return journey, two samurai crouched by the roadside. When he looked, they were Iguchi Hyōsuke and Ōno Kurōzaemon, Matsuchiyo’s tutors sent from the Kuroda family. “We must apologize for this most improper interruption here on the roadside.” “We have an urgent matter to humbly implore you about.” The two pressed their faces into the withered grass as though to bury themselves within it. Before they had said a word about the matter, Hanbei had already discerned the emotion that united their voices and tears.

2

A shrike cried out sharply. Spring in the mountain village was still early.

Hanbei, accompanied by the two men, went to a sunlit patch within the shade of a sparse grove. Using the warm withered miscanthus grass as a cushion, he sat down. The two retainers remained prostrated before him, weeping. “...There’s no need to say more,” he said. “I understand your feelings well.” After hearing the earnest outline of their desperate plea, Hanbei offered these words of comfort. As he had surmised, these men had long known through rumors both of Kanbei’s strange misfortune within Itami Castle and of Nobunaga’s strict order regarding Matsuchiyo’s disposition.

They had even intuitively realized that Lord Hanbei, the castellan, had risked his illness to return because he found it impossible to refuse Azuchi’s orders—which they perceived as undoubtedly pointing toward the execution of Matsuchiyo, whom they had been raising. (We two humbly beg you—please accept our lives in exchange for our master’s child, Lady Wakako.) Having waited by the roadside, they had come to plead their desperate case. They had made this direct appeal having considered that were this to become known within the household, objections would naturally arise and there would be no chance of their plea being granted.

“From the beginning, your master and I have shared no shallow bond. “Even if it is an order from Azuchi, why would I cruelly offer up Lord Kanbei’s precious heir as a severed head? …There is no need for concern. “Leave it to me.” His consolation was heartfelt. Encountering such compassion only made the two guest retainers weep all the more. Hanbei could not bear to look at their bodies.

He had thought there was nothing more pitiable than a hostage's fate—but that perspective came from one still unacquainted with the world's ways and clinging to childish innocence. Yet when he contemplated the hardship of guardians who knelt to protect an innocent child raised in another household—who maintained unwavering loyalty even in exile, ready to exchange their lives at any crisis—he realized true pity belonged not to the hostage, but to these steadfast souls. 3

He often walked around the castle town.

The castle was small, and the town was a mountain village. When people by the roadside or figures in the fields recognized their lord, they would hurriedly press their foreheads to the ground, but Hanbei’s excursions were always carried out with such discretion that there was nothing ostentatious about them. Hanbei disliked walking about showily as befitted a castle lord. Moreover, his recent wanderings had a specific purpose in mind. Until this matter could be resolved, he felt his illness growing more severe with each passing day.

"Ah... I still can't bring myself to kill a child. "If it’s a poor peasant child, my pity only grows deeper, making me unable to strike them down, and if I see a cherished townsfolk child, merely witnessing their parents and their innocence makes even my own intentions seem horrifying."

Shigeharu Hanbei—who in days past would don lacquered armor and lay Tora Gozen’s great sword across his lap as he sat among three armies in his role of strategist, capturing a thousand soldiers with one stratagem and trapping a hundred armies with one scheme, remaining utterly unmoved even after annihilating them—now found himself unable to bring himself to kill any child he spotted within his domain that might serve as a substitute head, though that was precisely what he sought. Whenever he saw a child on the road who resembled Matsuchiyo, his heart would involuntarily skip a beat. When he saw a child in the fields who appeared to be of similar age, his mind would turn to the one beneath the thatched roof nearby, and he found himself unable to bring down the blade.

"Fundamentally, this kind of strategy is the lowest of low plans. Isn't there some better idea?" Even that I had considered over several nights, but ultimately, Nobunaga—with his characteristic impatience—was demanding we cut it down and present it. The only thing that could substitute for a child's head was another child's head. The sole glimmer of hope lay in judging from Nobunaga’s temperament—even if we presented a head that wasn’t Matsuchiyo’s, we thought the command from Azuchi might be temporarily appeased. It had been two years since Nobunaga had last laid eyes on Matsuchiyo, and among Azuchi’s retainers, scarcely any knew the boy’s features well.

Even Sakuma Nobumori, in his official capacity, would send reminders, but he wasn’t conducting strict surveillance either. Moreover, with military duties and battlefront matters, Nobunaga and the Azuchi retainers were preoccupied to the utmost. "If I can somehow appease this immediate crisis, time will eventually resolve everything. If only I could manage the present situation…" Hanbei firmly believed this, yet even so, a child’s head to temporarily present before Nobunaga was still required. A child’s head. Ah— he involuntarily let out a sigh.

“An excellent plan.”

One evening.

The two guardians, Ōno and Iguchi, hurriedly approached the veranda of his quarters without waiting for an attendant to announce them. Such an act could never be permitted, but upon immediately discerning from the appearance of what Ōno Kurōzaemon carried wrapped in his sleeve that this was precisely that, Hanbei—

“Come in… Close the door behind you immediately.”

[He] ushered them in, his brows already furrowed in distress, “A head?” he asked. “Yes…” they replied, wiping the sweat from their brows, yet still unable to bring themselves to present it. Still keeping it concealed on Kurōzaemon’s lap, “In truth, a child who was fishing at the river shoal drowned. When we saw the parents come clinging and weeping, we hurried to visit the chief priest of the family temple, confessed our true feelings, and begged to receive the remains. ...We did not kill him with our own hands.”

Iguchi Hyōsuke, too, showed desperate resolve on his face. “Having secretly observed your intentions, it indeed seems that is your considered plan." "However, knowing your deeply compassionate heart would find it difficult to make such a request yourself, and discerning—even through our meager judgment—that you must be tormented by this dilemma... we resolved to devise this plan." “We humbly beseech you to use this to save Lord Matsuchiyo’s life.” "...Though we two are retainers of the Kuroda house, we swear to never forget this kindness for as long as we live." “On whatever day our humble lives may be of use to your service—be it any hour or moment—we will offer them up without hesitation. …We humbly beg of you this.”

A page entered carrying a candle.

Hanbei abruptly stood up, “Both of you, won’t you come out to the garden?” he invited. As spring deepened each night around this time, a dewy moon rose over the mountain cherry blossoms in the garden. That evening, an unvarnished wooden box wrapped in white cloth and Hanbei’s letter were entrusted to a Takenaka family retainer. Borne by swift horse, they were dispatched to Sakuma Nobumori in Azuchi.

Several days later, the retainer returned bearing Nobumori's receipt of delivery. According to the retainer's report, Azuchi was now engulfed in tensions far graver than such matters; though the small box had been delivered from Nobumori to the castle, it was relayed that Nobunaga had scarcely even looked at it.

Hideout

1

Fresh greenery sprouted, the sun took on a summer cast, and people donned lighter garments—yet Itami Town felt devoid of any refreshing breeze. It was stagnant. There was anxiety. The tension of Lord Araki Murashige and all those barricaded within the castle was mirrored exactly by the townspeople below.

“When will this town become a battlefield?” This stagnation stemmed from both the anxiety and the oppressive weight of Araki’s entire domain having completely sealed off its borders, leaving everyone trapped in immobility. But more than that, it could also be said that not all of Itami’s subjects necessarily supported their lord’s rebellion, and this too was a contributing factor to the stagnant atmosphere pervading the town.

Yet within that town, those showing flourishing vitality—as if eagerly seizing the present moment—were the merchant-artisan households handling military supplies: armorers, lacquerers, dyers, blacksmiths, and harness makers. Shiroganeya Shinpachi could be counted as one such establishment among them. It had the modest appearance of a cottage, but upon passing through the earthen wall, one abruptly found themselves in a workshop. Small metal fittings for armor, sword hilt ornaments, tiny horse gear components—all manner of gold and silver decorative metalwork crafted by artisans was produced here. Small bellows, the rapid clinking of hammers, the rasping of files—in the workshop, sixteen or seventeen men with their backs bent were toiling diligently.

Although Shinpachi would occasionally show his face, he mostly withdrew into the inner residence. He would often gather friends to play Go and drink sake. The inner residence and the workshop were separated by garden trees—so far apart that even a rain shower made going between them inconvenient.

“Okiku. It seems someone has come. From the back gate.” He was now huddled with two guests, their heads bowed together in secret discussion. The two were supposedly acquaintances who had stopped by on their way back from Arima Hot Springs yesterday and were travelers who had stayed overnight here last night. “…A guest?”

The travelers glanced around. It was because they had heard the clatter from the back gate. For guests wary of other guests, their eyes were a bit too sharp.

“No, ordinary folk shouldn’t be coming from the back gate. …Well, stay as you are.” Shinpachi’s voice was low.

And while stretching slightly, he peered at the receding figure of his sister-in-law as she slipped into her sandals and stepped out through the kitchen entrance.

2

Since around this spring, life in Shinpachi’s main residence had completely transformed. Those living there, and their daily lives as well.

His wife had been sent back to her rural family home along with their many children before anyone noticed. On the surface, the reason given was the uncertainty of when war would break out. In place of that, a pretty sister-in-law named Kikume, who was in her early twenties, had come to help with the household chores. Anyone who had purchased the famous Reishukō eye medicine from the main branch in Shikama, Harima Province, would likely have recognized this girl—yet Kikume seldom ventured out into the streets. She was the daughter of Yojirōemon of Shikama, who had strictly concealed her origins.

When Yojirōemon—though aged—learned of the calamity that had befallen his lord Kanbei of Himeji and the subsequent swearing of a life-risking rescue pact, he too, as a retainer who had served since his lord’s predecessor’s time, earnestly requested to join the thirteen-member group. But his comrades deemed the old man a hindrance and would not accept him. However, for the sake of convenience in using Shiroganeya in Itami—a relative of his—as a rallying hideout for their comrades, (If it's Miss Kiku...) That had been everyone’s opinion. In all situations requiring secret stratagems, women were not only convenient to employ but also highly effective when utilized.

After such discussions and the life-risking rescue group's complete infiltration into this region, Okiku came here alone. And ever since then,

(A relative sent us just the right person...) She had been staying at Shinpachi’s residence under the pretext of being a relative, but because her beauty stood out even in Itami—where such sights were rare—gossip first spread from the mouths of the many workshop workers, then reached even the surrounding neighbors, (That’s probably not his real sister-in-law.) Such baseless rumors were spreading far and wide. But Shinpachi secretly welcomed being viewed that way. For that too became another layer of disguise for this hideout.

“Oh...” “Welcome.” When Okiku opened the back gate from within and noticed the traveling monk standing there, she faltered as if about to speak, then wordlessly ushered him inside before quietly closing the gate behind. Moving at a hurried pace, she came to the small room where her brother-in-law was. “Lord Kinugasa Kyūzaemon has arrived,” she announced. The two guests dressed as townspeople who were present— “What? Mr. Kinugasa...?” —exchanged glances filled with nostalgic recognition.

This one was Morita Tahei, and the other was Kuriyama Zensuke. All of them were people who, to rescue their lord imprisoned within Itami Castle, had become packhorse drivers, itinerant merchants, fellow travelers, street performers, and more—through every manner of hardship, even altering their clothing and appearances. “Ah. “Lord Zensuke.” “Lord Tahei is here too?” The monk Kinugasa Kyūzaemon entered after Okiku and first placed his dirty travel bundles and hat at the edge of the veranda. Then, weakly, he came and sat among his comrades.

“We hadn’t seen you for some time—had you gone somewhere far? We were here again today, worrying about your whereabouts.” When Morita Tahei peered in, Kyūzaemon shook his head with even greater listlessness as he replied. “—To Azuchi. What is Azuchi doing? I went to investigate, thinking they’d likely muster a great army and launch a full assault on this paltry castle soon enough—but it seems they won’t act anytime soon.” He paused. “And worse... I’ve brought back sorrowful tidings.”

“What do you mean by ‘sorrowful tidings’?” “Concerning Lord Matsuchiyo’s fate. You understand what this means. Men’s hearts prove ever unreliable... We clung to faint hope, but Hanbei Shigeharu of Bodaisan has obeyed Azuchi’s command and presented our young lord’s severed head. That scrawny monk—I’ve lost all patience with him. A counterfeit nobleman! That damned strategist knows nothing of warrior’s compassion... The regret—the pity—it defies words.”

At first he raged like fire; later, choking like stifled water, he hid his tear-streaked face with the sleeve of his makeshift robe.

Kōyaji Temple Nocturnal Discussions

I That Matsuchiyo had been executed was widely believed throughout society. For these Kuroda warriors of sworn allegiance—men who cared more for their lord and his son than their own lives—to accept this truth immediately, without even the leisure for deep reflection, was by no means unreasonable.

“This grudge—we will surely avenge it. For now, until we rescue Lord Kanbei, our hands remain tied—but rest assured, we will make Hanbei Shigeharu know the full measure of this anguish someday.” Not only Kinugasa Kyūzaemon alone, but Morita Tahei and Kuriyama Zensuke as well swore this oath amidst tears of grief. Kyūzaemon, in monk’s attire, borrowed the Buddhist altar room of Shinpachi’s house, “We offer this temporary memorial for now.” and, after inscribing Matsuchiyo’s secular name on a mortuary tablet and offering incense and flowers, they reverently offered silent prayers together with Tahei, Zensuke, and others.

Before they knew it, dusk was beginning to fall. The cicadas' cries were shrill.

“Miss Okiku.” “The monk from Kōyaji Temple is here.” “Shall I show him through?” A craftsman from the workshop bellowed toward the main house over the evening glory fence. Shinpachi saw Miss Okiku and frantically waved his hand—an urgent eye signal meaning “Bad timing, don’t let him in.”

“Yes.” “I’ll be right there.” “Just a moment, please.” Okiku grasped her brother-in-law’s intent and rose to leave. After some time had passed, she returned carrying a letter. Shinpachi examined it before passing it sequentially to the others. The missive came from Kōyaji Temple’s priest. Though ostensibly a tea ceremony invitation, it held covert significance. “Perfect timing.” “We too shall throw ourselves into this wholeheartedly.” Having sworn their resolve, the three soon withdrew through the rear gate.

The town was now in the early evening.

After briefly showing his face at the workshop, Shinpachi performed his ablutions and wandered out. And heading west from the edge of town for about ten-odd blocks, there stood the ancient temple of Kōyaji in a grove within Koyagō Village. The Shingon sect priest here and he had been friends for many years. However, the priest did not show his face; instead, one of the guardian monks quietly came out to guide them,

“Everyone has already gathered.” The attending monk pointed to a room in the temple’s living quarters. Around a single dim candle were gathered over ten righteous men who had left Himeji and secretly infiltrated this enemy territory, quietly assembled out of concern for their lord. Morita Tahei, Kuriyama Zensuke, Kinugasa Kyūzaemon, and others had already arrived there one step ahead.

II

The fourteen comrades gathered here needed to remain flexible in their movements at all times. However, being in an enemy castle town naturally came with restrictions, but the priest of Kōyaji Temple had always provided these people with both space and accommodations. "This is something I happened to overhear from a stablehand in the Araki household—the place where our lord Kanbei-sama is imprisoned is an armory near the wisteria trellis commonly called Tenjin Pond in the northern corner of the castle grounds. The only regret is that we've found no means to obtain a map."

These were the words of one of their comrades, Kitamura Rokuobei.

Fujita Jinbei added as well,

"No, I too have heard such whispers," Fujita Jinbei said. "They say a Tenmangu Shrine has stood in Itami Castle's northern corner since ancient times. The prison likely lies near there." "Then we may at least confirm our lord's honorable life remains secure... This brings me immeasurable relief," Gotō Emon declared with forced composure. Yet moments later, when Kinugasa Kyūzaemon revealed how their lord's son—raised as a hostage at Bodaizan Castle—had been executed and his remains delivered from Takenaka Shigeharu to Azuchi, the group...

“Heartless!” they pressed their lips together, “Ah...”

And so they swallowed tears of bitter frustration, their fury and grief beyond words filling the air. “It cannot be helped.” Morita Yosobei—the elder statesman of their faction—shifted his tone and rallied them: “Let us set that aside for later. Though Lord Honmaru’s dismay is painful to witness—having resigned himself to Lord Kanbei’s demise from the start while clinging to Lord Matsuchiyo’s safety—this is no time for lamentation. Let this frustration become heaven’s scourge! Even if we must gnaw through stone, our paramount duty remains rescuing our lord from Itami Castle’s prison. We’ll let nothing distract us.”

“That’s right. Focus solely on that single purpose and charge forth!” Mihara Usuke added his voice to theirs. Yet when it came to concrete strategies, they regrettably found no means whatsoever—even after over half a year since infiltrating this place—to slip into Itami Castle and approach their lord in his prison. Their sole reliance rested on Shiroganeya Shinpachi’s role as an arms merchant supplying the castle, hoping he might someday gain entry. They waited in secret for that moment when even one among them could enter the castle grounds disguised as apprentices or craftsmen—yet such an opportunity showed no sign of arising easily.

That night too, the group ultimately had no choice but to part ways in vain. And with thoughts of their next meeting, they dispersed—each still pursuing every possible means and clue—but on his way back, as Shinpachi hurried home alone through the town’s entrance, someone called out to him.

“Shiroganeya. “Are you heading back now?” Startled, Shinpachi peered at the shadowy figure through the dim starlight. The man was clad in armor and carried a spear. He felt a vague sense of recognition.

III

“It’s me, ye.” “I’m Kato Hachiyata, a retainer of Lord Hyōgo of Itami, ye.” “Oh! It’s you, sir. My apologies.”

“Isn’t it rather late to be returning?” “Where have you been coming from?”

Shinpachi was momentarily cornered, but being a man well-versed in worldly affairs, he skillfully deflected. “Late—speaking of which, your honorable order for the small chain repairs on the armor has been getting increasingly delayed.” “Well, you see, the craftsmen have been rather short-handed as of late.” “Now, now—what are you saying, Shinpachi?” “No one’s here to hound you about damaged armor in a place like this.”

Kato Hachiyata brought his bear-like face thick with beard closer and laughed with his large mouth agape. No sooner had he done this than he transferred his spear from right hand to left,

“Hey!”

And calling out once more, he gave Shinpachi’s shoulder a solid thump.

“How about we head back to Kōyaji Temple once more? ... Don’t try to hide it—I know.” “Moreover, tonight’s security watch in this area is under my charge, so there’s no need to worry.” “The patrol leader on watch is one such as this, ye. Hahaha.” “...Sir.” “What?” “What is the reason you order me to return to Kōyaji Temple?” “Don’t you get it?” “What a dullard ye are.” “I’m saying I’ll give ye a proper hearing—listen thoroughly to the discussion you’ve been wanting.”

“Huh? Then… you—” Shinpachi trembled violently. And the armored hand of Hachiyata that still rested on his shoulder felt as heavy as a boulder.

Shitsuden Hall

1 They did not return all the way to Kōyaji Temple. However, pulled along by Kato Hachiyata, Shinpachi went to the shade of a nearby grove. There, Hachiyata,

“Sit on a tree root or something.”

With that, he too plopped down into the grass. Though this samurai had always been of an intriguing temperament and often joked around normally, tonight he appeared terrifying, and Shinpachi’s face looked as if his very skin were bristling. He had even steeled a certain resolve in his gut. “Look here, Shinpachi. It’s a strange story, but that girl they call your stepsister from Shikama. What’re ye plannin’ to do about her? If a good match comes along, are ye plannin’ to marry her off?”

Thinking it must be something serious, Hachiyata’s story turned out to be just this abrupt. The proposal was so abrupt that Shinpachi was flustered and grew all the more suspicious of the man’s intentions. “My lord is Lord Itami Hyōgo-no-kami. "He is already of advanced age and shows signs of apoplexy, so he no longer performs any military duties, but his second son, Lord Wataru, is stationed at the rear gate of the castle’s northern entrance." “It seems this Lord Wataru has taken a liking to Lady Okiku without anyone noticing—apparently, when he went out to town, he spotted her walking with a white parasol, having a maid carry her purchases—or so they say.” “...Ever since that day,” he declared, “my bride must be her and no other.” “He says he won’t take anyone but her.”

“...Huh? Heh?”

Finally, Shinpachi managed to produce something resembling a proper response. Hachiyata was dead serious. It didn’t seem like a lie.

“But you see—right now, we’re in this battle camp surrounded by Oda forces.” “I said we probably can’t hold a wedding ceremony.” “Then, Lord Wataru says there’s no need for it to be right this very moment.” “He says you should just get a promise from Shinpachi.” “And also, what he says is quite interesting.” “If, when the Oda forces eventually attack Itami Castle, I should fall in battle, consider that promise null and void—let Lady Okiku marry into whatever household she pleases. ...He says a provisional promise until that day will suffice.”

“Ah... I see.”

Shinpachi nodded. Given his profession, he understood well the temperament of young samurai in these times. Whether pursuing romance or ordering a single exquisite suit of armor, they all carried within them—even in their slumber—the worldview that "tomorrow's fate remains unknown." Moreover, their determination to live today fully despite life's uncertainty burned fiercely. Within them, future dreams born from such yearnings and imminent death coexisted with disciplined grace, blended seamlessly without contradiction.

“Shinpachi. “You probably think this is a foolish proposal.” “You must also be considering things like differences in social status.” “No—the greater difficulty lies in this: between the son of Itami Hyōgo-no-kami, who belongs to Araki Murashige’s clan, and your sister with her deep ties to the Kuroda family, you must have already concluded in your heart that such a discussion is utterly impossible, being as they are on opposing sides.” Shinpachi’s face turned pale once more. It was because he understood their internal affairs all too well. However, as Hachiyata began to elaborate on the details, Shinpachi’s terror and suspicion were completely transmuted into something entirely different. Kato Hachiyata was indeed an unexpected secret sympathizer supporting a certain faction of Kuroda samurai from the shadows.

2

Itami Hyōgo-no-kami was once the most prestigious landed clan in this vicinity.

But now, they had no such power whatsoever. Since Araki Settsu-no-kami Murashige had risen to prominence, their position had been usurped. And so, the Itami family had been relegated to the margins as a nominal offshoot of the clan, nearly forgotten even among their own vassals. Therefore, though they remained in Itami, their hearts still leaned toward the Oda clan. In particular, Hyōgo-no-kami’s sons were attempting to seize this opportunity to restore their family’s fortunes— and they were secretly keeping a watchful eye on both Kuroda Kanbei’s imprisonment within the castle and the covert actions of the Kuroda family’s desperate rescue team that had infiltrated the castle town,

(If the opportunity arose, they would guide them and, through that merit, return to Lord Oda’s favor while also achieving their desired restoration of family fortunes.) So they had resolved. In particular, Itami Wataru, the second son of the Itami family, had disclosed even other matters to his retainer Kato Hachiyata. It concerned Okiku. As conveyed through Hachiyata, this young samurai’s sentiments were pure. His commitment ran deep, yet precisely because he premised his existence on an uncertain tomorrow, it remained unblemished and uncomplicated. Because he might die in battle, he said that a promise until that day would suffice.

“Please consent to this.” “Shinpachi.” “In return, we shall join forces with you.” “I disclose this for the first time: the Hyōgo-no-kami family has never wholeheartedly submitted to Araki Murashige.” “They eagerly await the day when Lord Oda’s forces will advance upon this castle.”

In response to Hachiyata’s words, even though great joy had been stirred within him, Shinpachi found no reason to refuse. It even seemed as though his comrades’ utmost sincerity had reached the heavens and brought this man down to earth by divine aid—so much so that he wanted to clasp his hands in prayer to the gods. (But... The only problem is Okiku’s feelings, though?) Shinpachi was only perplexed by that. However, if Kanbei’s death could be prevented and the thirteen righteous comrades could thereby achieve their hopes, then he considered that the consent or refusal of a single foster sister would not be an issue. Especially since the young warrior in question also leaned toward the Oda forces and was their own sympathizer.—He steeled his resolve.

“Lord Hachiyata.” “It is precisely as you say.” “Everything shall be left to your command.”

He sat back down on the ground and pressed both hands toward Kato Hachiyata. Hachiyata gave his back another pat.

“Good. With this settled, I’ve preserved my honor. I will also devote my full strength to your cause… However, we shall part ways for tonight and deliberate again in due course.”

Even after parting with him and returning home, Shinpachi still couldn’t quite believe what had happened. However, a few days later, Hachiyata’s messenger came again to fetch him. And this time, they led him to an old mansion in Itami’s samurai district. That was Hachiyata’s residence, and his master, Itami Wataru, had come and was waiting there.

Wataru and Shinpachi met here several times after that. Of course, it goes without saying that each time, Shinpachi relayed the contents of the meetings to the members of the master rescue group.

3

Having unexpectedly found a sympathizer among one of the castle commanders, the Kuroda family’s thirteen warriors,

“Heaven has taken pity on us. Our sincere hearts will surely reach their destination.” With this conviction finally solidified here at last, it felt as though they had glimpsed—for the first time—a single point of hope emerging from their wanderings through despair’s shadowed depths.

Moreover, fortunately, Itami Wataru had been temporarily assigned to guard the North Karamete Gate for one night. Through his arrangements, on a moonless night at June's end, one of their comrades—Miwara Hayato, skilled in stealth—infiltrated over the castle walls and made his way to their lord's prison near Tenjin Pond in the northern compound to establish communication between those inside and outside.

However, this plan ended in brilliant failure.

For even if Itami Wataru provided that convenience, the defense of the castle gates was not solely his responsibility. Moreover, Itami Castle was now a fortress in a state of emergency, with security measures layered upon security measures strictly enforced around the clock. In an instant, they were discovered by another unit, and Miwara Hayato found himself targeted by two or three sniper shots; though unharmed, he had no choice but to retreat like a startled bird. Without any single voice initiating it, murmurs spread through the castle: “Lately, enemy spies have been probing weaknesses in the North Karamete compound relentlessly.” “Stay vigilant.”

Voices rose, and security there grew stricter still. They simply couldn’t get near. With Kanbei imprisoned, they found no way to make contact. Even Itami Wataru could not approach Kanbei in that place—the castle soldiers’ watchful eyes made it impossible.

At last, a desperate plan was born. The plan was to bring Okiku into the castle. This matter proceeded relatively quickly after being conceived. "The maidservants serving in the inner quarters, fearing the day when battle would soon come, would feign illness or use their parents’ sickness as an excuse to leave the castle, only to never return once they went back to their hometowns—causing great trouble. Particularly, the maidservants attending the senior lady-in-waiting of the inner chambers were in dire straits due to the shortage of hands." This outcome resulted from Wataru having heard this matter directly from an elder retainer’s lips, thereby recommending Okiku as a godsend solution for their predicament.

Okiku entered the castle as a relative of the Itami family. Starting with Araki Murashige, none among the castle defenders doubted her. Moreover, she fully became that role. On the day she first entered the castle, she was formally introduced in a room of the Western Compound to the person she would serve from that day onward. This woman was called Lady Muro and referred to as the Chief Handmaid of the Inner Chambers—a beauty so transcendent that Okiku thought her the most exquisite woman she had ever seen in all her worldly experience.

Needless to say, this woman was Araki Murashige’s concubine.

The Voice of Fireflies

1

Okiku gained Lady Muro’s favor. As days passed, Lady Muro began speaking to her kindly and keeping her close at hand, casually entrusting her with various personal tasks. “Where were you born?” “Um… It’s nearby.” “So, you’re from the capital?” “No, my lady. Um… Naniwa, my lady.” “Osaka.” “Yes… That’s right.” She had always mentally prepared for the questions Lady Muro might ask her. But when it came time to answer, she always became flustered again. Lady Muro seemed to view that—her lack of worldly experience and unfamiliarity with service—as part of her charm, sometimes even deliberately teasing her.

“You claim to have ties to the Itami family—is that true?” “Yes.” “Then I suppose you’ll soon become Wataru Itami’s bride within the household.” “Oh! Such a thing...” “Such a thing...” She blushed for no reason—this person who posed such unexpected questions left no room for carelessness or complacency. Okiku could find no peace of mind whatsoever.

However, as days passed and she grew more accustomed, she learned to ask before being questioned. Whenever a casual conversation seemed about to arise, she would first ask Lady Muro various questions before being questioned herself.

Then Lady Muro answered everything frankly. She told her things she wouldn’t even share with the other maidservants. According to this, though Lady Muro was now surrounded by splendor and attendants in the Western Compound as Araki Murashige’s concubine, it became clear she was neither the daughter of a noble house nor born to anyone of renown. It seemed that her origins lay with a port courtesan whom Murashige had brought back from the vicinity of Murotsu on his return from participating in the Chūgoku campaign. Perhaps because of this, her Chūgoku dialect would occasionally slip out, and she would often playfully use unexpected phrases from the lower classes.

“It’s so cramped inside the castle, isn’t it? Don’t you think so too?” This was a phrase Lady Muro would occasionally let slip with a sigh—one they had grown accustomed to hearing—but at times, she would knit her beautiful brows and add: “If only the enemy would come quickly and make this castle fall. Then I might return… To that Murotsu.” She uttered such bold statements nonchalantly. Nor did she always lower her voice when speaking them. She carried herself as though she wouldn’t mind if Murashige himself heard her words.

2

Speaking of Murotsu, it was near Shikama, where Okiku’s home was. Both were in Harima Province. She feared that Lady Muro—herself raised in Chūgoku—must have discerned the Chūgoku accent she simply couldn’t shed. Sure enough, afterward, when some topic arose, Lady Muro said this.

“Okiku, you’ve spent time in Harima as well, haven’t you?” “Uh… uh.” “Which part?” “In Shikama, I had some relatives there, you see.” “I see.” Smiling coolly from the corners of her eyes, she nodded to herself,

“...I thought as much.” Lady Muro murmured as if to herself.

At that moment, there had been no particular change in Okiku’s complexion, but even so, Lady Muro afterward showed neither suspicion nor any reaction to it.

Summer reached its peak. Because Lady Muro was somewhat ill-mannered, the summer in the palace residence—where even one’s hair and attire had to be kept perfectly proper at all times—did not seem to be much to her liking. Impatiently awaiting dusk, she had the blinds at the veranda edge rolled up and sat informally, waiting for the night breeze—this seemed to be her sole pleasure. “If fireflies were to fly here after we sprinkle water, how cool it would be. Okiku, go catch some fireflies.” “Fireflies?” “In Chūgoku, there were so many fireflies. You know, you’re aware of that too, aren’t you? Fireflies dwell by the water’s edge. If you go where there's water, they're sure to be there. Go catch lots of fireflies in that cage and bring them back.”

“Water... …A place with water. …Where would that be?” “Follow the garden path northward—go down past behind the turret and make your way toward Tenjin Pond.” “Huh? Tenjin Pond?” “Are you scared?” Lady Muro laughed in amusement. “No. I’m not afraid.” Clutching the firefly cage, she set out along the starlit path toward the instructed direction. Within the castle grounds—particularly near the rear gates—the terrain of hills, woods, and shallow valleys made nighttime navigation little different from traversing mountain wilderness.

3

There they were—there they were—truly there. Countless fireflies swarmed in formation. The darker the place, the more beautifully their phosphorescent trails danced through the air; the more treacherous the water's edge, the thicker the fireflies clustered like luminous orbs. Yet this area was a sodden realm of such profound blackness one couldn't tell if their own nose was being pinched. Though the pond's margin remained faintly discernible, wisteria vines had run wild from their trellis, while here and there colossal trees stood doubly veiling the sky. But she felt neither dread nor unease—nothing at all. She simply kept recalling the words her brother-in-law Shinpachi had spoken to her before entering this castle.

(This must be the pond. This must be the area—) Even without chasing them, fireflies swarmed onto her sleeves and chest. Motionless, crouching down to catch them in the cage, (Oh... That window.) (That window) Her eyes, finally accustomed to the darkness, discerned what seemed to be the location. Immediately on the opposite side of the pond, along the water, stood a thick-pillared building forming a wall of over ten ken—this was likely the armory. A window was also visible. But that window was utterly beyond reach.

But more than that—because it jutted out so far over the pond—even approaching beneath that window seemed impossible by any means. (Surely, he is there...) Okiku believed this with all her heart, and as she did, her eyes filled with tears. Though the gulf in status between that person and her family—bound by a master-servant relationship—was utterly insurmountable, whenever the young lord of Himeyama rode his horse to Shikama, he would invariably stop by her home. There, he affectionately doted on her father Yojirōemon as if he were a beloved grandfather, and treated her, then still a girl, as a companion.

("I feel at ease when I come here") He had always said so. As dusk fell—"Well, shall I return to the Himeyama residence?"—when that person would bring his horse to the back door of her house, young Okiku’s tears had always welled up unbidden. Without even being aware of what in her maiden’s heart had given rise to such feelings— As time slipped by unnoticed through the years, that person had vanished from Himeyama as well. She heard only from her father that he was now embroiled in the storms of conflict, and when she secretly listened to people’s whispers, they said he already had a young and beautiful wife at his residence, along with a child.

Since then, she had striven not to reawaken those flickering heartbeats from her girlhood—like fireflies winking in darkness. She had lived on unaware of how her aging father’s years and her own marriageable season slipped away—until last year’s unexpected news of his calamity left her unable to stay idle. Unable to speak directly to her father Yojirōemon, she had instead secretly entreated Kinugasa Kyūzaemon and Morita Tahei—comrades gathered at his house before their departure—though she held no faith in their influence. Yet through fervent pleas for permission to join Itami’s siege lines—this wish too had been granted.

――That was how. Powerless as she was, now―through some twist of fate or heaven’s mercy―she managed to come right beside the prison where he was believed to be held. She looked at the dark old pond separating her from what lay before her eyes and gazed at the sturdy building in the distance, yet not even a hint of defeat arose within her regarding this opportunity and divine favor. She did not dwell on the impossible, focusing only on what was possible―motionless as she crouched in the grass, forgetting how her obi and kosode became soaked with night dew to match the blades of grass.

Eventually, she quietly rose.

4 At the boundary between the building’s foundation and the pond water lay a narrow strip of naturally accumulated mud, about one or two shaku in width. There too, reeds and weeds grew thickly, forming a narrow strip of shoreline along the base of the wall. Pressed flat against the building, she moved sideways along the shoreline, inching bit by bit. As she neared the middle of the pond, here and there she encountered slightly wider mudflats. Standing in such a spot, she let out a relieved breath and surveyed her surroundings.

The window was nearby. But from this outside vantage, it loomed too high to reach. Up to that height, wisteria vines from the arbor had crept inward. (If only these vines could let me slip through...) She earnestly contemplated this girlish fantasy. Still pressing as close beneath the window as possible, she cupped her hands around her mouth and called out with stealthy urgency— “Lord Kanbei. Lord Kanbei.”

Over the wisteria trellis, a rustling wind swept through. "If only that wind would carry this voice—" she thought, ceaselessly calling out again and again. “Lord Kanbei… Psst. Psst.”

5

Kuroda Kanbei jerked upright, lifting his head.

And with blazing eyes, he glared around the prison.

The ceiling was high. The frontage and depth were spacious. And there lay a perfectly square darkness and plank floor. Whenever he opened his eyes, there was not the slightest change. The only thing that had changed was the summer heat. With summer’s arrival, the eczema on his skin had worsened further, and swelling had even developed at his hair roots—yet it was certain that only that much time had passed within this prison. There was nothing to wait for but the passage of time. A dream… …Or just my imagination?

He thudded his head back down onto the thin bedding and pillow.

And then, for a time. He had been half-listening to the faint sound of wind through wisteria leaves from the single lighted window when suddenly—with a jolt—he sat bolt upright. "It doesn’t seem to be my imagination… But. "What a strange voice I’m hearing." He tried to rise unsteadily—but did not. The boils covering his entire body—and the muscles worn away by them—had already robbed even the strength to rise and walk from that once-healthy frame of his. “This is no dream.” He crawled out across the large floor there like an infant with rickets.

But he started, turning to peer warily at the formidable latticework beside him. Because guarding samurai were always stationed there in shifts. In the distance, he could see the light of a red iron-legged lantern. It seemed no one was there. Kanbei, having ascertained this, crawled once more to beneath the window. And when he pressed both ear and body against the plank wall there and calmed his mind for a while, there was indeed an unmistakable human voice. Moreover, it unmistakably sounded like someone was calling his name.

Indeed, he felt the blood throughout his body—which he had long since forgotten—suddenly begin to seethe as if boiling over. Someone was definitely calling him. After all, there couldn’t possibly be two people named Kanbei in this vicinity.

“Wh—what?” “Who’s there?!” He wanted to reply at the top of his voice. But needless to say, acting on that impulse was perilous in the extreme. He shuffled about. His body wouldn’t obey. His voice wouldn’t come out. Suddenly, he stretched his arm—like a withered tree—upward. What his hand grasped was the tip of the wisteria vine that had crept in through the window and at some point taken on an unchecked, sprawling form.

He pulled it downward from below. The wisteria branch hanging at the high window swayed heavily from this action. To show this movement wasn't mere wind but deliberate intent—he alternated between long tugs and short, rapid pulls. Then an unusual intensity permeated the voice calling from outside. Now it came through far more clearly than before. “Lord Kanbei? Is that you? “Could the one confined here be Lord Kanbei of Himeji? “...Please... show me even just your face—or any fragment of your form.” “Lord Kanbei!”

That voice—unceasing, like a cry—continued intermittently in the night wind. Kanbei recoiled as if struck by disbelief. "Wh—?" "A woman’s voice—it must be a woman’s voice, but..." He could think of nothing. Even as he tried to convince himself this was no dream, he found himself doubting—could it all be a dream after all? Wisteria branch

I

The wisteria branch at the window he gazed up at was swaying. No—it was responding. Okiku, interpreting the swaying wisteria branch as confirmation that her presence had been properly acknowledged by the prisoner within, felt her entire body burn with heightened fervor. “Lord Kanbei! Lord Kanbei! “The honorable retainers of Himeji will surely devise a plan for your rescue ere long. “Until then, no matter what may befall you, I implore you not to resign yourself to despair or turn away from your own worth.”

She continued muttering words to that effect in broken phrases while gazing up at the swaying wisteria vine. Though she doubted whether her voice had truly reached Kanbei’s ears inside the prison, she could not help but keep calling out. Then, right behind her—no, practically at her feet—the pond water made a small splashing sound, as if a frog had leaped in. “...?” She kept her entire body pressed there with both hands, turning only her face over her shoulder. The surface of the pond showed no signs of disturbance. Only a small ripple remained within the ripples stirred by the night wind.

“Lord Kanbei... If only I could meet you face-to-face, there are so many more things I wish to tell you.” “There are so many things I wish to tell you, but...” With a loud plunk, a greater splash than before resounded this time. Though its origin differed slightly from before, water struck her profile nonetheless.

Okiku casually directed her gaze toward the opposite shore of the pond. At that very moment, her deathly pale face—bereft of all color—and her trembling shoulders caused her eyes to suddenly dart about her feet as though she were trying to flee from that spot.

II

No matter what—even if she tried to act immediately—this was no place where one could suddenly take flight. On the opposite shore of the pond, castle guards had arrived unnoticed. Standing in the shade of the trees, they had apparently been watching her movements for some time. “Why did she cross over to that place? No matter what, this woman must be harboring some purpose regarding Kanbei. Hey, hey. That reed-cutting boat should suffice. Take one push of the pole and bring that woman over here!”

This was the commander's order. Soon two soldiers came poling across in a small rotted-wood boat. She stayed frozen in place watching them. Effortlessly shoved onto the vessel, she was hauled before a samurai commander. "Do you serve in the Western Compound?" "Or the Northern Compound?" He glared at her with piercing eyes. She resolved there would be no escape. "I attend Her Ladyship's chambers."

Then, with evident loathing, the commander’s hand grabbed her by the wrist, “Alright, walk!” he commanded. The other soldiers took hold of her other hand. She was dragged away, sandwiched between armored soldiers, her feet barely touching the ground. The commander was Gondō Inejūrō, a captain of the guard. All those guarding the armory prison—both inside and out—were under this man’s command. Due to his duties, even the actions of a single woman were naturally taken seriously by him. They brought Okiku to the main keep. However, according to the samurai’s report, Castle Lord Araki Murashige appeared to be holding a banquet in the Western Compound again tonight. Inejūrō clicked his tongue as he immediately turned his steps in that direction.

"This Her Ladyship business won't do. "For His Lordship to show favor to such a woman is utterly unconscionable!" He circled around to the garden of the Western Compound and requested an audience with Murashige through a retainer. When the retainer inquired about his business, Inejūrō— "My lord, unless I speak directly to you myself, I cannot disclose it."

he refused.

They had no choice but to relay the message as received. Murashige was taking the evening cool alongside Her Ladyship in the same chamber. None of the banquet atmosphere imagined through the main keep retainers' malicious speculations could be detected. A solitary small drum lay visible there, though it had been cast aside in the room like an object grown tiresome. Yet though Her Ladyship and Murashige shared the same room, they faced wholly separate directions - their minds turned toward the garden with entirely divergent thoughts.

“What? Inejūrō wants to meet me? He needn’t have come all the way here,” Murashige said bitterly. But when he heard the retainer whisper something in a low voice, his eyes abruptly sharpened. “Bring her here,” he commanded, pointing before a large stepping stone. Gondō Inejūrō immediately appeared. He dragged Okiku to the garden’s edge and prostrated himself alongside her. Murashige glared at Okiku’s shadow from the veranda. Those fearsome eyes evoked the martial prowess for which Lord Settsu-no-kami Murashige was renowned throughout the land. For a time, he remained like that—until at last,

“Hmm, this woman,”

When he growled, he looked at the profile of Her Ladyship sitting beside him and cast a gaze that seemed to measure them equally. But Her Ladyship maintained an air of perfect composure. She had cast a sidelong glance toward Okiku and must have immediately grasped Murashige’s emotions, yet remained perfectly composed, gazing through the eaves at the stars twinkling in the night sky.

III

Gondō Inejūrō recounted the facts in a voice trembling with agitation. Naturally, this matter held grave implications for Her Ladyship who sat directly before them; as a vassal jointly defending this castle in wartime, he wholeheartedly voiced the solemn duty of remonstrance that could not be avoided. It was the resolve to admonish his lord even at the cost of overstepping propriety. Even Lord Settsu-no-kami Murashige was no fool of a ruler who would rage at his loyal retainer's words. He fully discerned the conviction burning in Inejūrō's eyes and listened intently to every detail.

――And then, quietly, he turned toward Her Ladyship. “Lady Oshitsu. Did you hear?” “—Yes. I heard everything.” “This Okiku—has she not been serving at your side since recently?” “My Lord, are you not equally aware of this?”

“...Well, I asked merely to confirm.” “You too bear half the responsibility!” “Why should that be?” “Why have you kept such a dubious woman near you until today without noticing?” “Is there anything dubious about her?”

“You heard Inejūrō’s words just now.”

“Could it be that Inejūrō has completely misunderstood something?” “What nonsense!” Though typically gentle toward women, Lord Settsu-no-kami flushed slightly— “What misunderstanding could Inejūrō possibly have? Inejūrō witnessed it with his own eyes.” “No, no!” She too began to show no signs of backing down. And she cut in with that manner of speaking unique to women—sharp and persistent. “Okiku is my maidservant. “I believe I know Okiku’s true nature better than anyone else. “Moreover, is she not a relative of your esteemed clan, the Itami family? “Though she may be a mere maidservant, for someone like Inejūrō to brazenly call her a ‘suspicious woman’ or ‘hateful creature’—those are utterly contemptuous words to use against one of your own clan’s relatives. “To speak so disrespectfully of someone connected to the main lineage—even if only nominally—”

Having thus settled the matter with fiery swiftness— “Tonight’s visit to Tenjin Pond was by my orders.” “This was no act of Kiku’s will.” “For her, it was sheer misfortune—I had commanded her to catch fireflies and set them free in this garden.” “No!” “With respect—” As Inejūrō interjected, his face twisted in indignant disbelief at this unexpected affront, Her Ladyship maintained her glacial composure—

“What is this? Don’t you dare silence me! Stay where you are!” With this single command that cut through from the outset, she then turned toward Murashige and persistently denied the allegations. “You stated I bear half the responsibility, but in that case, My Lord must share half the blame. If someone like me has brought such questionable elements into this castle and kept them in service, why does My Lord still permit my presence here? As I have always said—is it not that I ache to return to Murotsu yet remain unable...? All because My Lord refuses to grant permission.”

“Inejūrō. “Inejūrō.” Murashige suddenly seemed to lose the gravitas befitting a commander— “Withdraw for now. “We’ll discuss this properly later. “No—once we’ve thoroughly investigated Okiku’s circumstances, I’ll settle the matter properly. Do not concern yourself. “You may withdraw.” Inejūrō gloomily looked up at his lord’s face. He seemed to have more he wanted to say outright, his words caught in his throat. But until the very moment he rose to leave, Her Ladyship persisted in denying his accusations.

“If you mean to leave here, go back to the pond’s edge and investigate properly,” she declared. “I gave Kiku a beautiful maki-e firefly cage to carry. It must have fallen somewhere.” Her voice softened with remorse. “How pitiful… To have her falsely accused because of me…” Inejūrō stifled his scowl and bowed with warrior formality before striding away. With his departure, the matter now rested solely between Her Ladyship and Murashige. When they were alone at last, her manner shifted subtly—

“I shall bear responsibility and depart the castle with Kiku.” “Pray command that both Kiku and I be exiled together.” “Or if it please you, pass judgment upon us side by side.” She pressed her demands without ceremony.

Lord Settsu-no-kami Murashige too was at a loss with this one woman. Indeed, his inability to manage his women’s quarters was such a well-known flaw of this fierce general that there was even public criticism about it—his leniency was impossible to conceal.

“Now, now—enough of this. “Don’t go makin’ such a fuss. “Inejūrō did not come to report this out of any deliberate intent or malice. “If it’s a mistake, then let it be a mistake. “This is no time to neglect either internal or external affairs—and this is Itami Castle. “Precisely because my retainers understand this, wouldn’t they show concern even for trivial matters? “I will entrust Okiku’s safety to you. “Just make sure you don’t let her out too much from the inner Western Compound from now on.” Even just having finally managed to placate her, Murashige wore a look of relief. In fact, he himself steered the conversation elsewhere, finally managing to catch every frown and smile from Her Ladyship.

This matter had also leaked out through the samurai retainers' own words before anyone knew it. Gondō Inejūrō's indignant desertion from the castle took place not long afterward. Murashige was greatly angered and denounced this disloyalty, but most of his household remained silent. Around this time, signs began appearing within Itami Castle that a creeping lassitude had finally taken hold and soldiers' morale was starting to fray. The spies from Azuchi keenly detected this development and frequently sent secret reports to Nobunaga about both the atmosphere within the castle walls and the corresponding conditions in the town below.

Unease

I

In the inner quarters where only women remained, they had no knowledge of the battle situation outside, but Itami Castle’s fate had already begun to decline several months prior to that. In particular, since summer had begun, the castle’s fall had reached such a dire state that it seemed it might collapse today or tomorrow.

This reality would become clear if one climbed to the high tower of this castle and surveyed the town below in a single glance. In early spring, even when shielding one's eyes, the enemy's encampments had remained invisible to the naked eye. But by late spring, their banners became visible in various locations. As this encirclement gradually tightened, what had initially been scattered Oda forces across different fronts had imperceptibly linked together until they made contact with Itami town itself.

From around early August, when Araki’s forces—who had been fighting the enemy vanguard at their defensive positions outside the castle—abandoned their trenches and began a full retreat into the castle, Oda’s troops and horses also entered Itami’s town center, bringing all town functions to a complete standstill.

“You are not our enemies. It’s not as though you all joined Murashige in rebellion. Work! Work! Resume your usual livelihoods.”

The Oda forces had issued proclamations, but paralyzed by fear, the townspeople could not attend to their work. Before long, forced labor conscriptions began. The task involved digging serpentine trenches encircling Itami Castle. They also constructed multiple layers of walls and palisades along these trenches. Countless laborers toiled like ants beneath the scorching sun. Once completed, the garrison within Itami Castle would become caged birds regardless of their will. Initially, defenders had vigorously loosed arrows and fired muskets to disrupt the work, but the Oda army had discerned their ammunition was nearly depleted from prior field engagements. Yet the Oda strategy seemed content to wait patiently for their collapse while minimizing friendly casualties.

The commander-in-chief of the besieging forces was Nobunaga’s legitimate son Nobutada, supported by generals such as Hori Kyūtarō Hidemasa and Takigawa Sakon Shōgen Kazumasu.

II

“They’ll come any moment now. “They must be arriving imminently. “There’s absolutely no possibility they won’t come—they will certainly arrive!” Whenever the castle generals gathered for war councils to address this crisis, their commander Araki Murashige’s words invariably culminated in these declarations. He delivered them not with conviction, but through intense fervor. “The Mōri navy formally pledged to me this spring through a written oath—their entire fleet would sail in close formation to reinforce us. “Their delay must stem from military preparations alone. There’s no reason for them to nullify the treaty and abandon us after we’ve risen up at such cost. “I’ll maintain faith in the Mōri to the end! I’m resolved to await their great army’s landing on Nishinomiya’s shores at the earliest possible hour. Until then—hold fast in this siege! Every one of you must persevere!”

Murashige’s words here were for the subordinates who had been encouraged since the battle’s outset. Indeed, he had made these declarations at the end of the previous year, throughout spring, and even until summer arrived. Yet over half a year had now passed, and the supposed second front—where the great armies under Mōri Terumoto, along with the Kikkawa and Kobayakawa clans, were to come sailing in with their warships arrayed—had failed to materialize anywhere. Many castle generals had finally begun doubting the Mōri clan’s sincerity. Toward their lord Murashige, though none voiced it to his face,

"How appalling. Your Lordship relies on what cannot be relied upon... Did you not previously depend on Takayama Ukon and Nakagawa Kiyohide as if they were your own arms?" Even as he watched those very Takayama and Nakagawa switch sides and swiftly surrender to the Oda forces, their lord still failed to awaken.

While they thought this and exchanged despondent looks, even Murashige had finally ceased voicing his vain hopes that "the Mōri will come any day now" by August.

This time, on the contrary, he began vehemently denouncing Mōri Terumoto’s treachery and faithlessness.

At the war council on September 1st as well,

“We must take some measure to urgently hasten the Mōri clan’s reinforcements, though we have already sent letters repeatedly and dispatched secret envoys time and again.” “At this point, I myself must go and sternly confront Kikkawa, Kobayakawa, and the others as well.” he went on saying such things. Even after hearing his words, the generals showed no sign of upliftment. First, it was questionable whether there was even time for that, and even if Murashige himself wished to meet with representatives from the Mōri side, by now it was perfectly clear that securing such a location would be difficult.

But Murashige—brave yet simplistic in strategic thinking—appeared to cling to some belief in that possibility. Rather than viewing it as such, perhaps it would be more accurate to say his mind had reached its absolute limit by this point. He had begun earnestly contemplating a plan to secretly abandon the castle from that moment onward—forgetting his dual role as both lord bound to his fortress and rebellion’s mastermind—resolving to slip away alone to Hanakuma Castle in Settsu (Hyōgo), one remaining allied stronghold. Without informing key generals beyond family elders and senior retainers, he commenced preparations on the evening of September 2nd.

III

“Oshitsu, prepare yourself immediately.” Murashige suddenly arrived at the Western Compound and said this to Oshitsu-dono. She looked up at him from his feet to his head with a dumbfounded expression. He was dressed like a common foot soldier ready for hunting. “……Where are you going? Looking like that?” Oshitsu-dono cast a cold gaze. This lady—who combined an almost simple-minded appearance with a sharpness surpassing ordinary women—seemed to have already intuited the situation in that instant.

“Anywhere will do. You too—make yourself as light as possible, hitch up your robes, and come with me.” “I refuse.” “Why?” “I cannot possibly go to a place with no known destination.” “Haven’t you always kept saying you wanted to get out of the castle?” “If it were outside the castle, then certainly.” “Outside the castle. We’re leaving the castle.” “……But isn’t this rather strange?” “Why?” “My Lord, you are the lord of this castle. What do you intend to do with all your retainers?”

“That’s none of a woman’s concern. But for your peace of mind, I’ll tell you this much—it’s better for our strategy if I leave this place.” “And where do you intend to relocate, My Lord?” “To Hanakuma Castle.” “So you mean to confine me again within those walls? Then I’ll stay here—it makes no difference.” “No! Once we reach Hyogo, I’ll let you go free. From there, we’ll board a ship.” “Do you swear this? A lie would shame any samurai.”

“There there. I’ll let you return without fail. Make ready at once.” “—Okiku. Okiku.”

She turned toward the servants' quarters and called out. But Okiku did not answer. Another maidservant came and reported that Lady Kiku had been missing since that evening. "Is it not possible My Lord had hidden her?" "If you don't take her along, I won't go." Oshitsu-dono glared at Murashige’s face with her keen eyes. Murashige hurriedly shook his head while masking his expression. "Okiku has already gone ahead. She’s joined the group of old retainers."

“That’s a lie.” She refused to believe him. With Murashige’s clumsy words, it took over an hour to make her believe it. Meanwhile, the night passed the first watch.

In the darkness of the garden, a shadowy figure stood silently, urging Murashige to depart.

That night’s attendants numbered a mere six or seven. When these people came near, Oshitsu-dono was no longer allowed to voice any complaints or grievances. For they all bore faces of utmost desperation, their eyes brimming with violence. Though Oshitsu-dono had thrown quite the tantrum toward Murashige, when surrounded by these warrior retainers, even her trembling steps faltered, and the profile of her face beneath the deeply drawn hood turned as white as a moonflower.

Four

“They say His Lordship isn’t here!” “What? Not here? Where?” “In this castle.” “Preposterous!” “No, it’s true. Last night, His Lordship secretly departed through the rear gate and relocated to Hanakuma Castle.” “So it’s true? Then—”

“I just heard it clearly from Elder Ikeda Izumi-dono.”

“Outrageous!” The samurai spat on the ground and stormed into where the elders were gathered. The elder retainers Araki Hisaemon and Ikeda Izumi—who had been persuaded by Murashige to reluctantly remain—exhausted every rhetorical means to calm the enraged officers and soldiers. This was all a desperate stratagem for our allies’ sake; if by any chance His Lordship could reach Hanakuma Castle, escape by ship to the Mōri domain, and safely arrive there, then without fail, the Kikkawa and Kobayakawa navies would turn around and come to our rescue in full force. Or perhaps they were already advancing across the sea toward Settsu in great numbers. Were that force to arrive, the Oda forces outside the castle would lift their siege and withdraw within half a day. Fight. Just a little longer. Just endure a few more days. If we abandon this castle now, the year-long siege and all your efforts will become mere water bubbles.—Stopping short of saying “We implore you,” the three elders labored to placate them. They persuaded them with raw throats and constant wiping of sweat.

“Even if circumstances demand it, for a retainer to voice his lord’s failings is not the way of loyalty. Nor does avoiding battle in these desperate straits resemble anything but cowardice.” “There remains nothing but death.”

Finally, the retainers settled on that conclusion. Even so, their inner turmoil could not be quelled. From then on, the castle's morale resembled a towering tree in late autumn shedding its leaves one by one. Deserters kept fleeing without end, while rumors from outside poured in like a cold wind. For instance: "So-and-so and so-and-so have already conspired with the Oda faction." or,

"Ukita Naoie of Bizen, who had been aligned with the Mōri faction, finally opened secret communications with the Oda clan, thereby leaving the Mōri's borders threatened and rendering them incapable of sending reinforcements to the Kansai region." Such were the rumors circulating through the castle. Initially, the garrison's soldiers had dismissed these tales as enemy fabrications, warning each other against believing them. Yet gradually they realized these whispers held elements of truth. First came confirmation that Araki Murashige—reported to have fled to Hanakuma Castle—had never reached that destination, instead entering Amagasaki Castle where he remained immobile. Then they noted undeniable shifts in attitude among several generals who had stayed behind in Itami.

The one most pronounced in their betrayal was a general named Nakagami Shinpachirō. Centered around Nakagami, those such as Lord Hyōgo-no-kami Itami—who had long been dissatisfied with Murashige—and his second son Itami Wataru appeared to be plotting something in contact with individuals like Gondo Inoshirō, who had previously deserted the castle. “Seize the initiative and strike down the traitors within the castle first!” At the same time, such a sentiment began to arise. Naturally, the entirety of Itami generated a sense of disharmony and began a rapid process of self-destruction.

Five

Having relied on that which could not be relied upon—the Mōri faction having abandoned Itami Castle—the hearts of the warriors left behind by their castle lord Murashige had now completely scattered in disarray, transforming into a weakened state beyond recovery. The elder Araki Hisaemon dispatched a military envoy to the Oda forces, offering to present their wives, children, and relatives as hostages. In exchange for this concession, they humbly requested permission for the elders to proceed to Amagasaki. Their essential proposal was to meet with their lord Settsu-no-kami Murashige and counsel him earnestly toward surrendering this castle along with Amagasaki and Hanakuma without bloodshed. Should Settsu-no-kami still refuse compliance, they pledged to become the vanguard in capturing both Amagasaki and Hanakuma before surrendering to the Oda clan. Therefore, in the unlikely event that their lord Settsu-no-kami Murashige attained clarity of understanding and proceeded to surrender unreservedly, they entreated that his life at least be spared.

They conveyed this proposal. The Oda forces permitted it. Araki Hisaemon and several others rushed to Amagasaki, but days passed with no response from the Oda forces. No—not even a report reached the officers and soldiers left behind in the castle. "What need remains for strategies?" "Cease those excessive earthworks encircling the castle with ditches." "Kazumasu—promptly execute our prearranged plan."

Oda Nobutada commanded Takigawa Kazumasu as follows. Kazumasu was a patient and resourceful commander, while Nobutada was a young general eager to crush the enemy. It was only natural that Nobutada grew impatient with Kazumasu’s strategy of tapping each stone before crossing.

“Very well.” “The moment is fully ripe.” Kazumasu had long since persuaded Nakagami Shinpachirō within the castle to join their side, so the plan was already in place. He secretly made contact and set a date and time, “Raise the signal fire of betrayal.” he urged them. As for Shinpachirō and his faction, they had been waiting so impatiently to carry it out. For their betrayal had finally been detected by their allies within the castle, and the danger that these enraged men might launch a surprise attack at any moment was closing in on them.

Though Takigawa Kazumasu's secret orders had designated the night of October 18th, the conspirators found themselves in such perilous straits that they could not possibly wait until then. Thus, two days earlier on October 16th, without even informing the Oda forces, they unilaterally raised the signal fire of betrayal from a corner of the castle.

"There are still two days left." The Oda forces outside the castle, who had been settled in their positions, were thrown into disarray, but even greater chaos was, of course, unfolding within Itami Castle,

“Ah, so the traitors have finally shown their true colors!” “Damn. They’ve beaten us to the strike.”

And so, with the castle as their crucible, they etched a gruesome tableau beneath the flames—comrades cutting each other down in mutual slaughter. Though this fate had long been foreseen, never had blades crossed in such wretched futility.

Because it was nighttime and the wind was strong that night, the flames quickly spread throughout the entire castle. —And now, around Kuroda Kanbei, who had been imprisoned since last year, the glow of flames and dreadful noises drew inexorably closer with each passing moment.

A Man's Wailing

1

At Kōya Temple in Koyagō, for several days now, approximately ten people of varied appearances—monks in robes, samurai, townspeople, physicians, puppeteers, and others—had secretly gathered and were lodging together in a single hall. Needless to say, these were samurai from Himeji who had been lingering around Itami since spring with the purpose of rescuing their lord. Initially there had been thirteen members, but the elderly Morita Yosobei had fallen ill and been compelled to return home partway through their mission. Furthermore, Miyata Jihei and Ogawa Yosazouemon had very recently split from the group,

(Lord Kanbei’s rescue will surely be achieved in the near future.) To deliver this auspicious news, they hastened to Chūgoku—one to Hideyoshi’s encampment and another into Himeji Castle—where they coordinated their plans. The group had assembled at Kōya Temple and lain in wait precisely because they had obtained advance intelligence of a clandestine scheme: on the eighteenth day of that month, turncoat elements within Itami Castle would finally raise flames from within to usher in the Oda forces.

Every scrap of that intelligence—both major and minor—flowed through Shiroganeya Shinpachi and Katō Hachiyata. "What day and time. Who guards the West Gate. Who guards the North Gate?"—they could learn these details almost as if they were being openly disclosed. Of course, they also knew that their lord imprisoned within remained alive and well.

However, there was one thing that remained utterly unknown to them. That was the whereabouts of Shinpachi’s sister-in-law Okiku. There was no trace of her having moved to Amagasaki Castle with Murashige and Muro-dono, nor could she be seen within the castle grounds. “Perhaps she was discovered and met a pitiful end.” The comrades whispered among themselves in secret. Feeling unbearably sorry for Shinpachi, they still said nothing in his presence, and Shinpachi himself seemed to have resigned himself to it.

And precisely on the evening of October 16th, Shinpachi arrived, “Nakagami Shinpachirō and his men inside the castle have planned to open the gates late on October 18th and invite the Oda forces in all at once—it seems every detail of a secret pact has been settled between both parties. The day to fulfill your wish is now just two days away. Until then, however bitter it may be, please endure quietly at this temple so the enemy does not detect us.” With these words, he lifted the group’s spirits and, after emphatically reminding them once more, returned to town. That was around the Hour of the Dog in the evening.

2

It seemed barely a quarter of an hour had passed since then.

Shinpachi, who should have returned home and gone to sleep by now, was instead pounding on the temple gate once more with a frantic voice, shouting something at the top of his lungs.

Morita Tahei and Gotō Uemon, who were just about to go to sleep,

“Could that be Shinpachi?” While exiting the priests’ quarters with suspicion and heading toward the main gate, they found Kuriyama Zensuke had already rushed ahead, opened the gate, and appeared to be listening to something from Shinpachi. When he noticed the two who had come after him, Zensuke spoke in a calm yet vehement tone,

“Immediately tell everyone to prepare themselves and gather here,” he conveyed. It appeared weapons had been brought into the temple beforehand, for those who came rushing to assemble were all clad in light armor and carried various striking weapons like spears and polearms. Zensuke, Tahei, and Uemon spun around, hid briefly inside the temple, then reemerged fully armed. Yet the group still could not grasp what exactly had occurred.

“Is everyone assembled?” Kuriyama Zensuke surveyed the group, then declared in a rapid yet clear voice: “The situation remains unclear, but the defectors who were meant to act at midnight two days hence have suddenly raised flames this very moment. The Oda forces never anticipated this—Shinpachi reported that as he raced here moments ago, they remained too stunned by the suddenness to even approach the castle walls. Let me be clear: we must not depend on Oda’s strength. Our only purpose is to rescue our lord’s life from that prison.” “With time’s passage,” he continued, “Araki Murashige’s retainers may well exploit this chaos to harm Lord Kanbei in his cell.” “Then we must move at once.” “Our actions shall follow our long-standing pact: even if comrades are surrounded by enemies before your eyes, until our lord’s safety is confirmed, you must not turn to aid one another.” “Let there be no lapse.”

The ten figures all trembled with martial resolve. And like night crows, their clustered shadows surged forward, racing down Koyagō's long rice field path. When they rounded the forest shade along the way, a hill came straight into view—the castle came into sight. And dyeing the October autumn night sky, a single red flame pierced through the Milky Way. The droning sounds of conch shells and gongs could be heard from various directions outside the castle. It was the clamor signaling the start of the all-out attack. Yet still no Oda soldiers could be seen beneath the castle walls.

Unlike the ponderous movement of many soldiers and horses, the ten resolute Kuroda samurai were swift. They shattered the western palisade from the hill and stormed toward the rear gate. Nowhere did they find enemies barring their path. There was only embers and smoke cascading all around. First they dropped into the dry moat's depths, then scaled the castle wall from there. This naturally demanded extraordinary acrobatics—had defenders atop those walls resisted, securing a foothold would have been impossible. Yet not only was there no such defense—

(Climb up this way) As though shouting the invitation itself, thick ropes dangled from two locations. This could only be the work of sympathizers within the castle—either Itami Wataru or Katō Hachiyata. The ten split into two groups and clambered up in a frenzied scramble. Shinpachi followed behind. Once they vaulted inside the castle walls, the group could no longer maintain cohesion. Scorching winds whipped embers sideways while indiscriminate slaughter raged everywhere—no longer friend versus foe. Most fearsome of all loomed the great inferno now engulfing the keep's third story. Flames devoured both Nishinomaru and Kita Kuruwa districts, nearby trees crackling like firecrackers as they morphed into glowing crimson pillars.

“Where is the armory prison?” “Where is Lord Kanbei?” And so the men plunged headlong beneath the flames, each frantically searching for their destination while probing every corner.

III

Perhaps because it was lower than anywhere else, this area—resembling a basement—was not too thick with black smoke. Instead, flames raged downward from the keep's middle level in an intensely violent surge.

Kuroda Kanbei sat inside the prison. The flames reached just outside the rough latticework, and black embers—scorched and blown from the great floor—piled up near his knees. But there was nothing he could do. He sat with his back against the northernmost corner wall, futilely. In contrast to the distant flames, the wall here was cold as stone. Dripping clear water seeped out. And it was a wall that never saw sunlight throughout the year.

Due to the excessive humidity, it was likely deemed unsuitable as an armory and thus repurposed as Kanbei's cell after remaining vacant for years. Because of this environment, Kanbei's entire body was afflicted with severe eczema—he had become so weak he could not even try to rise. The day has finally come, he thought. Even if my body burns here, there is no escaping ordained fate. That Araki Murashige could witness his own demise in this situation was rather beyond expectation. He felt as though even the stifling gloom in his heart were being burned away. ...That fool must be panicking so—

He could not suppress a wry smile. Having long since resigned himself to death, not even a physiological urge to struggle at life's boundary arose anew. The embers scorching his knees burned hot, so he brushed them off intermittently. With no time left for brushing them away, he simply waited for all four walls and ceiling of his prison to become flame. From his perspective, Araki Murashige still remained as the castle's defending commander—even if Oda forces breached the walls, he believed they would have no reason to rescue him. Yet if any faint thread of hope still clung to life within him now, it was that woman's voice from a hundred days prior—the one who had shaken the wisteria vines outside this high window while calling incessantly for him.

“……But that voice I hadn’t heard since that time—?” Kuroda Kanbei now seemed to recall it once again. And when he looked up at the window, the wisteria leaves were already beginning to fall, scorched by the crimson autumn wind.

IV

――This night.

When fires suddenly broke out in two or three places and fierce combat erupted between allies within the castle walls at the same moment, Araki Murashige's family and the women living exclusively in the residential quarter—every last one of them barefoot and wearing only what they had on—surged toward the castle gate as a single mass. Neither the besieged defenders nor the conspirators paid any heed to the young girls; rather, they wished for their evacuation, so the girls had not encountered any danger within the castle walls. But the moment they tried to spill out toward the castle gate—

“Back! Get back!” A heavily armored warrior unit shoved back the wailing women, and a commander-like figure among them barked: “Cowards might be hiding among these girls—disguised as women to escape.” “Inspect every last one before letting them through the gates.”

The commander barked from behind at the frontline soldiers. Of course, the besieging forces were closing in. It might have been troops under some Oda commander they couldn't identify, but as far as their eyes could see stretched a wave of black armor, spears, and battle standards.

“Alright, out you go.—Alright, the next one can come out too.” The women were inspected at their necks and black hair, then shoved out of the castle one by one. Meanwhile, the main gate was thrown open, and warriors vying for valor—their eyes nearly popping from their sockets—charged in like a raging tide.

The women were hurled aside and trampled. Like flowers blown together by a storm, they huddled at the edge of the sleeve gate. Trembling together as if life meant nothing, they were being sent outside the castle one after another after having their persons inspected.

Within that throng was Okiku. She had been confined to a chamber where these people resided slightly before the day Murashige fled the castle with his wife. Murashige’s family had protected the life he had charged them to preserve, maintaining their surveillance of her until the very end as they fled together. But now, they could no longer afford such attentiveness. They were vying to be first, trying to get out of the castle. Had she continued with that throng, she would have been let out through the castle gate without difficulty. However, when Okiku saw an opening among those around her, she suddenly broke away from the group and dashed back the way they had come—into the fire that now engulfed the entire castle in flames. Ferocious warriors clashed—taking heads and having their own taken—roaring as they rained fire upon fire in the bloody fray, dashing about here and there almost as if they had gone mad.

“...Oh! Below this slope—that pond in the low depression.”

She finally found the path. It was a place she remembered passing through only once before. It was the narrow path to Tenjin Pond—the one she had taken when ordered by the mistress to catch fireflies.

V The preparatory knowledge they had acquired from maps differed greatly from the actual sensation of setting foot on the land. Under normal circumstances this might not have mattered, but within the castle now transformed into a battlefield, every landmark-building and tree stood engulfed in flames and smoke—and the grounds stretched far wider than they had imagined. "Where? —The prison." "Where is Lord Kanbei?" Nearly all the Kuroda warriors who had fanned out sighed deeply at the near-impossibility of pinpointing the location. Worn from their desperate search, their minds only grew more frantic.

The more they panicked, the easier it became to lose sight of their objective; though they strove to remain composed, each time they saw the flames consuming the entire castle, their anxiety grew unbearable. The flames spared no time. If they made even a single misstep—even if they managed to locate it after all this effort—they knew it would be too late. They could not help but charge forward in desperation. “Hisaemon, have you found it?”

Kuriyama Zensuke and Mori Tahei asked each other upon meeting near the base of the turret. Kinugasa Hisaemon replied in a parched voice,

"No... Not yet. What about the others?" he asked in return. "No. We still haven't got any leads either." "Has anyone seen a pond around here? The one with the wisteria trellis?" "We focused too much on that pond and wasted time mistaking others in different compounds for it. The Northern Compound seems to be around here. The turret's right there." "Let's search for the pond. We can't tell anything from the buildings."

Through the pine grove they ran downward. The larch trees and all the surrounding shrubs were emitting smoke.

“Ah! Looks like a woman...” After tripping violently, Kuriyama Zensuke turned to see what had caught his foot. Beneath the smoke lay a woman who had collapsed unconscious. “It’s Lady Okiku!” It was Tahei and Hisaemon—who had stopped short before tripping—that screamed. “What? Lady Okiku?!” They lifted her up and shouted desperately into her ear. When Okiku came to her senses, she ignored the faces around her and bolted away like an arrow.

She reached the edge of the pond. Before them lay the pond’s water and a broad wisteria trellis. When Kuriyama Zensuke, Mori Tahei, and the others who had followed her saw this— “Ah! Here it is!” she shouted involuntarily. In that instant, she was already waist-deep in the pond’s edge, advancing beneath the prison building like a dragon princess, sending up sprays of water with each splashing step. “—Lord Kanbei!” She grabbed hold of the wisteria tree. Desperately, she tried to climb higher. From below, Kinugasa Hisaemon began climbing up after her. When he finally reached the prison window and peered inside, all he saw was crimson gloom—nothing could be discerned in the darkness.

Meanwhile, Kuriyama Zensuke and Mori Tahei entered through a different entrance and came out before the thick lattice framework partitioning the prison's main floor. They spotted four or five warriors who seemed to be Araki's retainers, but made no move to intercept them as they scattered in flight. The two men scanned the prison exterior and found an old squared timber—about four and a half meters long (二間半)—piled in one corner. Together they lifted it and, like monks striking a temple bell with a log, slammed its tapered end against the cell bars again and again.

With a sharp crack, part tore open. All that remained were one or two strikes. The moment they leaped in, both men shouted at full voice. "My Lord! We've come for you!" "We're retainers from Himeji! My lord! My lord!..." They looked around. Their eyes wildly scanned the prison interior. Kanbei's figure proved impossible to locate. —Yet Kanbei still lived. Though heat and smoke made even that cold northern wall steam, he remained seated against it with knees drawn up like withered branches.

“……?” Now, suddenly before his eyes, he saw the unexpected figures of his retainers and clearly heard voices that seemed wrung from their very loyalty—yet he remained dazed. He could not easily believe it.

“Ah! There he is!” “Oh—! …Oh—!”

A strange sound, as of wailing and embracing, soon echoed there. The two who rushed over immediately began helping their lord to his feet. As soon as they were startled by their lord’s lightness, Kinugasa Hisaemon also smashed through the high window above and jumped down. Plank door.

1 “I’ll walk.” “I’ll walk on my own.” “Let go… of me.”

Kanbei said. And he stood up. It was a mysterious strength of will. This was no physical exertion. Yet after a few steps, he staggered and nearly collapsed—inevitable. His entire body—arms and legs like a bamboo pole with swollen joints. “Careful!” Moving forward, Kuriyama Zensuke turned his back and crouched low. “My Lord! “I’ll carry you and dash straight beyond the castle walls. “Hold fast.” Kanbei’s slender hand clutched at Zensuke’s chest. He weighed no more than a bundle of straw. Zensuke glanced back at his comrades Tahei and Hisaemon,

“Then we run! Keep close watch front and back—don’t lose sight of His Lordship!” The prison interior was now filled with black smoke so thick that light and dark became indistinguishable. The area around the destroyed cell bars was already blocked by flames. Mori Tahei used the squared timber they had employed earlier to once more violently breach the area. Diving through the terrifying noise and swirling embers, Kuriyama Zensuke charged through the area with tremendous force. —Just as he thought this, behind him, Kinugasa Hisaemon “Lady Okiku!” “I can’t see Lady Okiku!” “Lady Okiku!”

A voice called out through the scorching wind as he stood searching. Before he knew it, Zensuke too had halted his steps. "Isn't she outside? Isn't she beneath that window?" Shouting toward Hisaemon—whose eyes burned with desperation—while sharing his anxiety, Hisaemon...

“Our lord’s safety is paramount. Zensuke-dono, Tahei-dono—do not linger here. Go ahead! I will search for Lady Okiku and follow after.”

he called from afar. “Oh! We’re going ahead!” Zensuke and Tahei broke into a run.

The turret was now on the verge of collapsing in flames. Every last one of the halls, corridors, towers, and platforms were engulfed in waves of fire. Moreover, throughout the castle grounds flashed enemies and allies—spears clashing against spears, blades against blades. Amidst tangled hand-to-hand combat and formation-style clashes between groups of warriors, the final moments here now painted a scene of utmost tragedy—mountains of corpses and rivers of blood.

2

The distance from the main keep to the main gate was considerable. Moreover, being unfamiliar with the layout, Zensuke and Tahei seemed to have lost their way. They had passed through the inner gate, but could not find the final castle gate. They were driven by flames, blocked by enemy troops, and thus could not run as they wished. Before long, “Wait!” “You’re Oda’s men, aren’t you?” A group of warriors brandished their gleaming blades and blocked the path ahead. They were desperate Araki forces, their faces and bodies drenched in blood. In particular, several who had circled around behind fixed their eyes on Kuriyama Zensuke’s back,

“The one you’re carrying must be Kuroda Kanbei who was imprisoned! You’re the ones who came to steal him?” They grabbed Kanbei by the ankle and yanked him back with all their strength. Zensuke brandished his sword and cut down the enemy behind him with a one-handed strike. The warrior’s scream struck Zensuke’s face along with spurting blood, and as the enemy fell violently, Kanbei’s body tore free from Zensuke’s back and tumbled to the ground in a heap. “Lord! Lord! Zensuke—just focus on His Lordship!”

The voice shouting from within enemy ranks belonged to their ally Mori Tahei. Engulfed by such overwhelming numbers that his figure had vanished from sight, he fought desperately—yet his only concern remained his lord Kanbei’s safety behind him. But now, voices of forgotten comrades echoed through the chaos. It had to be Fujita Jinbei, Gotō Uemon, Nagata Sansuke, and their band. “Zensuke! Over here!” “Coming through, Tahei!” With rallying cries to their brothers-in-arms, they plunged into the Araki forces without hesitation—a focused spearhead cutting through the fray.

Spears flew. Camp swords broke. They bit. They grappled. Though they were Araki forces—though they were retainers of Murashige—precisely because they had held out in the siege this long without abandoning their duty to "perish with the castle," they were a select group of elite warriors. Even with reinforcements from their allies, they still refused to yield. They unleashed ferocious fighting power, as if determined to take Kuroda Kanbei’s head as a trophy to crown their final moments with glory. Yet even that proved but a brief deadly struggle. Araki’s forces began to dwindle rapidly. Itami Wataru of the conspirators—who had been near the castle gate—led the ashigaru troops he had gathered and began overwhelming Araki’s warriors with superior numbers.

Amidst this fierce battle, Kanbei—who had been thrown to the ground—picked up a spear that lay nearby and used it as a staff to stand. He had no intention of fleeing. He meant to fight. Staggering unsteadily, he pointed the spear tip toward shadowy figures he took for enemies and advanced. But this lasted only ten or twenty steps. With a heavy thud, he collapsed once more. This time he did not rise. Blood seeped from around his left leg joint. Lying like an overturned turtle, Kanbei still brandished his spear with his one functional leg and both hands.

3

The cool night air had roused him from momentary unconsciousness. Kanbei had regained consciousness but lay there vacantly staring up at the sky with hollow eyes. The long imprisonment that could not be controlled by his own will alone might have habituated him to a certain way of life. Amidst the raging waves, entrusting himself to their tumult, he abided by heaven’s will. Moreover, he absolutely refused to be dragged into the demonic void of nothingness; no matter what depths of despair were thrust before him, his heart never lost sight of life’s spark and clung to hope. No—this too was a form of ascetic practice: transcending even those very concepts of life and hope themselves, attaining such lucidity that not even the approach of final oblivion could disturb it, perceiving heaven and earth as one with mind and body.

“……I seem to have been born anew into this world.” In the depths of his vacant eyes, Kanbei now thought such thoughts. Beautiful stars filled the sky. The world was autumn, and the night sky hung with the Milky Way.

"What a vast sky this is." Like a newborn infant, his pupils were filled with astonishment, struck by the beauty of this world. Unbeknownst to him, tears streamed ceaselessly from the corners of his eyes. The tears even trickled into his ear canals. Wasn’t even this perception itself proof that he was alive? Gratitude once again heated his tear ducts as a new spring gushed forth. “...Am I lying on a plank door?”

At last, he had reached such a thought. His body kept shaking incessantly. Creak, creak—there was a grating sound of something straining. "Ah, right—I’ve been placed on a stretcher and am being carried somewhere." "Now, where are they taking me?" Try as he might to cling to turmoil or doubt, they would not take hold. When he questioned his heart, it would answer only with gratitude. As if he were an ancient sage, his heart resembled the void, and his body felt like heaven and earth’s favored child.

Ripples of Rice Ears 1

1

“...Oh.” “Have you regained consciousness? “My lord! My lord!” Someone came to the side of the stretcher and leaned their face close. Kanbei moved his pupils. They were his dear retainers Kuriyama Zensuke and Morita Tahei. “...Mm.” “Mm.” Kanbei sniffled back snot. He was aware he wanted to wipe his runny nose, but his hand wouldn’t move. “You there, stretcher bearers! “Wait a moment.” Zensuke had the soldiers carrying the plank-door stretcher halt their progress for a moment, then addressed the warriors following before and after: “Does anyone have tissue paper?”

“Does anyone have tissue paper?” he asked. One of the warriors handed over a piece of tissue paper. Zensuke crumpled it and wiped his master’s snot. Kanbei, like a child, gave a sharp sniff and expelled what remained deep in his nose. “This must be causing you great pain, but please bear with it a little longer—until we reach the main camp.” An unfamiliar-faced general spoke from behind. Morita Tahei mediated, “During our passage through the camp, the one providing security is Lord Takigawa Kazumasu’s retainer, Lord Iida Sentayu.”

Morita Tahei said this specifically to put his master's mind at ease. Kanbei’s voice was indeed hoarse and thread-like, but he remained lying on his back atop the plank door. “Sentayu. You’ve done well.” he said with a single word. The retainer of Takigawa Kazumasu, who had been speaking while standing stiffly behind under the assumption that this was merely a gravely ill patient on a stretcher—perhaps feeling intimidated—hurriedly knelt down. “By Lord Kazumasu’s arrangement, we shall first accompany you to the main camp. After you have met Lord Nobunaga, all matters should await His Lordship’s directives. As we now pass solely through allied encampments, there is no danger whatsoever. However, to ensure guidance, we have been permitted to accompany you from outside Itami Castle. By dawn, we shall reach Furu-Ikeda. As we have brought a physician with us, please do not hesitate to give any orders you may have.”

he corrected himself.

2

Jostled and jostled, Kanbei drifted between sleep and wakefulness. During that time, the accompanying physician administered a hot herbal decoction to him twice. Even the medicine tasted good. However, as his tongue began to perceive bitterness and sweetness, the physical pain also came to be felt simultaneously. The joint of his left leg was particularly severe. Heat appeared to have set in. When he lowered his eyes and peered past his chest, something thick—unrecognizable as his own leg—lay bandaged and propped upright on his raised knee. To move it would require strength akin to lifting the roots of a giant tree.

“We are now about ten chō from Lord Nobunaga’s main camp at Furu-Ikeda.” It was only after being told this that Kanbei first conjured Nobunaga’s image in his mind. He was well aware of how Nobunaga had regarded him up to this day, and how he had viewed the unexpected calamity that had befallen him. No one from the outside should have informed him of this, yet even if he could not learn of other circumstances, that much he had discerned with clarity. —It seems you have upheld your duty to Nobunaga, but Nobunaga does not hold your loyalty in such high regard. Rather, he must have regarded me as a cunning, untrustworthy man. As proof of this—when he heard that you had entered Itami and not returned, how do you think Nobunaga’s emotions erupted? Did he not curse me to the fullest extent as a traitor, a schemer, an ungrateful wretch? Is it not clear from how he raged like blazing fire and immediately ordered Hideyoshi in Chūgoku to destroy your father Sōen living in Himeji and exterminate your entire clan?

These were the words that Araki Murashige had repeatedly come to tell him outside the prison shortly after he was imprisoned. It went without saying that Murashige had used this to plant resentment toward Nobunaga in Kanbei’s heart and endeavored to employ this man as a pivotal asset within his own camp. Of course, Kanbei—being no man to fail discerning such shallow human intentions—had simply smiled without reply. Yet even he, when told how Nobunaga had misunderstood him and—without ever reconsidering his initial outburst of rage—dispatched messengers to Hideyoshi and ordered Takenaka Shigeharu to execute his own son Matsuchiyo, the child offered as hostage, then display the severed head at Azuchi Castle, found himself struck by a wretchedness that made every hair on his body stand erect: the anguish of a parent’s heart confronting both this callous disregard for his loyalty and the narrow-mindedness of those who so utterly failed to understand him.

(—Since Gifu, how many times had I had audiences [with him], laid bare my heart, expressed my true feelings so earnestly, overcome all the difficult circumstances of my lord’s house, the Kodera family, gambled the fates of my father Sōen and my entire household, and even offered up my own heir Matsuchiyo as a hostage exactly as requested—) ...To this day, does he still regard this Kanbei as a man devoid of samurai ethics and honor? (That I was viewed as such a deceitful samurai was above all else a source of bitter resentment—an utter mortification.)

In prison, he had even bitten through the sleeves of his robe. His blood boiled and his flesh throbbed; through countless nights, he had glared bitterly at Nobunaga’s blind cruelty, cursing him as a commander who knew no compassion for his men. But it was fortunate that he was not one to lose himself in resentment over it. For him to grasp a philosophy of life and death, he first had to uproot and cast aside these resentments and angers—deriding them as mere weeds of the mind—a state of being he could never have reached otherwise.

To overcome such thieves of the heart, that dark and frigid prison cell truly became a training hall bestowed by heaven. (Only there—precisely there—could I have achieved this—) Much later, even Kanbei himself would occasionally recall that period and use it as a personal admonition against becoming ensnared by self-indulgent trivialities during times of peace.

Well then. Be that as it may. Kuroda Kanbei was now being transported in this state to stand before Nobunaga. With each step of the stretcher-bearing attendants and every footfall of the retainers marching before and after, Nobunaga's face drew ever closer to the head of his plank-door stretcher. If this were... if this opportunity were... Had this been during that time when Araki Murashige had been feeding him those various facts, he surely could not have endured the bitterness of exposing this wretched state before Nobunaga.

Resolutely pointing west, (To Chūgoku with it!) he must have shouted. He may have spat and sworn that he never wanted to see Nobunaga’s face again in his lifetime.

But now—this breaking dawn—such feelings no longer arose. Gazing at the earth in autumn's faint morning light from his plank door stretcher, "Ah, this year's autumn harvest is bountiful indeed," he thought, feeling joy at the ripe drooping ears in roadside rice fields. Watching dew glisten on the five grains in morning sunlight, he felt overwhelmed by heaven and earth's vast benevolence until his heart brimmed full. Now in his mind, Nobunaga's figure differed little from a single drooping ear of rice. No—greater things clearly existed in this world. And regarding Nobunaga's transgressions, he understood too well that he himself was but one grain-ear among many—a mere retainer.

Camp Gate Clear Weather

1

Nobunaga, who was at this main camp, had hardly slept a wink since last night. The fall of Itami Castle was inevitable, and they knew the battle’s progression was decisively in their favor—yet they continued listening to each new report as it arrived, issuing subsequent orders and decisions, and receiving surrendering enemy commanders. The watchfires in the headquarters blazed brightly throughout the night.

And then, finally at dawn, "Itami Castle has completely fallen," "The remnants have been subjugated, and Lord Nobutada, Lord Nobusumi, and our allied forces below them have completed their entry into the castle." Upon hearing this report, he managed only to doze off briefly for the first time, using his arm as a pillow. Yet he had already risen with the morning sun and was strolling through the camp grounds teeming with soldiers and horses. Rising early had been a long-ingrained habit. No matter how late he went to bed, the time he woke remained largely unchanged. The encampment was centered around the expansive estate of an old Koikeida landowner and the surrounding fields. Nobunaga stood beneath a persimmon tree in one corner, his eyes awakened to the sight of its branches heavy with crimson fruits glistening in the morning sun. At that moment, from the vicinity of the large earthen gate that served as the main army’s camp entrance, Yuasa Jinsuke of the horse guard came running with an air of urgency. And from afar, he knelt before Nobunaga’s figure,

“Just now, Kuroda Kanbei-dono—who had been imprisoned within Itami Castle under the protection of Lord Takigawa’s household—has been rescued by our allies and brought here. Where shall we conduct him?” he inquired of his lord. “What? Kanbei? ...That Kuroda Kanbei has been rescued from prison and brought here?” “That is correct, my lord. He lies near death upon a plank-door stretcher, accompanied by a physician arranged through Lord Takigawa’s consideration, his retainers, and several Kuroda family samurai who have come with them.”

"Hmm... Then he remained imprisoned within Itami Castle until today?..." "Undoubtedly, my lord. It is believed he had been confined within the castle by Araki Murashige since last October—a full year—enduring cruel treatment." "So it was true after all... Since we had no inkling of conditions within the castle walls, I had deemed it improbable." Nobunaga's every word carried shame and lamentation. It was profound regret interwoven with shock. For a moment he stood transfixed by the revelation, his expression suggesting he had forgotten to respond to the man before him.

One of the attendants, Maeda Toshiie, whispered discreetly from beside him as though rescuing his lord from this predicament. “In any case, this humble servant shall go and observe Lord Kanbei’s condition, verify the details, and then proceed as deemed appropriate.” “Yes. So be it. Carry it out.” “—But if Kanbei and the others wish to request an audience?” “Of course I shall meet them. If it is true that he harbored no disloyalty toward the Oda clan and was entirely ensnared by Murashige’s treachery, enduring such circumstances until this day—then this is truly a most pitiable state of affairs. Meeting him is beyond question.” Nobunaga was so perplexed that he found himself at a loss as to how to comfort him. “Go quickly and see.”

“Understood.”

Maeda Toshiie ran off toward that direction together with Yuasa Jinsuke.

2

This morning, amid the clamor of the victorious army, someone who seemed neither a frontline casualty nor an enemy infirmary patient—lying motionless on a plank door—entered this main camp escorted by Takigawa’s retainers and physicians, so many soldiers who witnessed this along the way

“What is this?” “Who could that be?” They all strained their eyes and whispered among themselves. Before long, from no one in particular, it was conveyed that this was Kuroda Kanbei of Himeji—who had entered Itami Castle last October and whose fate had been unknown since. “Huh?” “Is that him?” At his utterly transformed appearance, they all gasped in mutual shock, and at the same time, “So he was still alive after all.” And now—as if suddenly remembering—they recalled the clamorous rumors that had spread across the land at the time of his calamity, realized how those false tales had misled them, and within their hearts each hurriedly corrected the mistaken perceptions of Kanbei they had harbored until this day.

What particularly sprang to people’s minds was the matter of Kanbei’s heir Matsuchiyo. The child who had been entrusted to the Oda family as a hostage was ordered executed last year due to Nobunaga’s suspicions and momentary wrath toward Kanbei—his severed head displayed at Azuchi by Takenaka Shigeharu’s hand—a fact openly discussed throughout the land just this past spring that remained vivid in every memory.

“Even if his innocence is now proven, what must that father’s heart feel upon learning his son has already been beheaded? …And might not those samurai who have remained steadfast in their loyalty until now instead come to resent the Oda clan henceforth?” The people, struck by Kanbei’s loyalty and his unexpected survival, even began to harbor such dangers as groundless fears. And then, imagining this morning’s meeting between the man on the stretcher who had entered through the camp gate and Nobunaga, they were filled with an unusual tension.

Having passed through there, the plank-door stretcher and its escorting party temporarily set down the patient’s stretcher in the shade of the broad-sleeved gate and awaited Nobunaga’s command. "Oh… Is this… Lord Kanbei?"

Maeda Toshiie, upon seeing the man on the plank-door stretcher, stopped in his tracks mid-stride and then—without another word—burst into tears, the droplets cascading down his face.

Eventually, he quietly knelt by the pillow side of the plank-door stretcher and peered in, "Do you recognize me? "I am Maeda Toshiie." "I am Toshiie." "—Lord Kanbei, do you recognize me?" he said, as though struggling to suppress any grief in his voice. Kanbei—whose condition made him want to drift into unconsciousness—looked up with effort upon recognizing Toshiie's voice and nodded twice. When he saw that face, Toshiie's eyelids burned hotter still. He mourned not Kanbei's wild beard or hollowed cheeks, but wept for the anguish within the man's heart. Through every fiber of his being—as a fellow warrior bound by the same martial code—he understood the extraordinary resolve required to uphold samurai honor to the bitter end.

“Splendid. …Lord Kanbei, will you have an audience at once?”

Toshiie asked only this. Kanbei nodded again, "As you will..." he faintly replied, then added, "Though appearing before His Lordship in this wretched state is most presumptuous, I can do nothing about it." He spoke as if half to himself.

“Think nothing of it,” Toshiie said comfortingly as he stood up. And after listening to the message from Takigawa Kazumasu’s retainer and hearing in detail from Himeji’s direct retainers such as Morita Tahei and Kuriyama Zensuke about the circumstances leading up to their lord’s rescue, he was deeply moved,

“Well, well—I can only imagine the hardships you have endured. But precisely because of that, I can only imagine how immense the joy each of you feels today must be. In any case, please quietly bring Lord Kanbei over here. I shall guide you.”

Maeda led the way and guided them into one of the tents on the garden terrace. They would have preferred to carry him into the residence, but Kuroda Kanbei remained an unabsolved traitor in Nobunaga’s eyes—a vassal still bearing such hatred that even his hostage had been killed. Though it was now clear this had been a misunderstanding, until Nobunaga himself spoke pardon, they had no choice but to leave him lying on the plank door upon the ground, unsightly as it was.

III

Nobunaga had temporarily returned to his private chamber. He sat with his lips pressed together in deeper solemnity than usual.

Just then, as breakfast preparations had been completed, the attendants began to bring it in.

“Leave it for later. Withdraw.”

And still, he maintained his meditative posture.

He was a man who knew no regret. No matter how bitterly regrettable the circumstances might have been, he was not one to look back upon the past and allow such stagnation to dull his forward march. Yet on this morning, his eyebrows bore traces of severe remorse. His face held an expression as though he had stuffed his mouth with bitterness. The first was his error in discernment of people. This meant forfeiting the immense trust of his entire army as a commander. Though he had executed many in the past, never had he passed judgment on someone he had misjudged.

The second was having the hostage Matsuchiyo beheaded. Realizing that all of this—his suspicion of Kanbei as a traitorous rebel and his subsequent actions driven by momentary emotion—brought deep shame upon himself, he felt as a lord he could not face him. However, even as he engaged in such self-reflection, Nobunaga was not one to become ensnared by it—to hesitate in meeting him or to entertain abject excuses. For Nobunaga, what always stirred his heart was overcoming the hundred difficulties before him and envisioning the future; what held the least interest for him was the opposite—past events.

(This is vexing... ...What expression will that wretch wear as he resents me?) When he muttered this in his heart, he had already resolutely wiped away the perplexity from his brow. He was human. Mistakes and errors—even Nobunaga had them. I am not a god. A man who is not a god seeks to accomplish the great task of unifying the realm. If there were major faults, he would have to cease his work as one unfit for the task; but for minor ones, Heaven would surely forgive him—and Kanbei would likely pardon him as well. Thus his thoughts settled.

In any case, when measured against the grand endeavors and ambitions he was now undertaking, these bitter feelings were resolved as trivial matters—not even significant enough to linger in the roots of his teeth. Presently, summoning his will and body, he stood up, “Well now… Will he meet with me?” he muttered to himself, then strode out across the wide, damp veranda bathed in bright autumn sunlight. Why had he been imprisoned in Itami for an entire year? Had he been rescued from the midst of the battlefield? How severe was his condition? Nobunaga seemed to have momentarily forgotten even to listen to Maeda Toshiie’s reply—Toshiie, who had been sent to inquire about those very circumstances.

Seeing Toshiie’s figure approaching from afar, he stopped as if suddenly remembering. And as he listened to Toshiie’s report midway through, he nodded repeatedly. "Is he in such critical condition? ...And where have you had him taken?"

“I have had him guided to the eastern enclosure.” Nobunaga walked there himself. It was the very place where, throughout last night, he had listened to battle reports and met with messengers as his command seat. Around the curtained screens, the cinders of watchfires lay scattered.

Abruptly, Nobunaga entered the curtained enclosure there. On the ground about ten paces away, many figures lay uniformly prostrated, yet what first leapt into his vision was a single plank door upon the earth and the flattened human form lying atop it.

“…………” Nobunaga did not take a seat on the camp stool and stood motionless for some time, gazing fixedly at it.

IV

“Tahei. …Has His Lordship arrived?” From atop the plank door, Kuroda Kanbei asked in a small voice. He must have sensed it from how those around him all prostrated at once.

Morita Tahei, who was right beside him, slightly raised his forehead that had been pressed to the ground, “Lord Nobunaga is present. His Lordship stands beside the camp stool,” he whispered. Kuroda Kanbei suddenly began to stir his body. But his left leg—the same one as before—showed no signs of moving. Tahei struggled to gauge his master’s intent. Whether the wound had flared with excruciating pain or news of Nobunaga’s presence had stirred violent emotions—in his desperation, he pressed his face close to his master’s.

“How does His Lordship fare?”

He asked in a voice too low to reach Nobunaga. Then Kanbei, wrapping his slender arm around Tahei’s shoulder like a wisteria vine,

“Lift me up. Let me sit... And hold me from behind so I don’t collapse,” he commanded.

Nobunaga sat down on the camp stool. “Kanbei, there’s no need to rise—remain as you are. I permit it—I permit it. Stay as you are.”

However, no matter how those around him tried to calm him, Kanbei would not consent. Finally, Tahei and Zensuke lifted him up from both sides with extreme slowness. When they moved him, even that morning, a copious amount of blood gushed out from his left leg joint, tearing through the thick bandage. It was enough to make one wonder where in this withered tree-like body such an amount of blood could exist.

Finally able to sit facing Nobunaga, Kanbei gazed up at his figure through eyes like two hollows, and at the same time, with a sudden collapse beneath his ribs, braced both hands against himself. “I never thought I would live to see you again, yet here I behold your unchanged visage... Kanbei’s joy knows no greater bounds.” "...Last year, through my own shallow wisdom, I brought hardship upon myself and caused Your Lordship prolonged concern." “I pray you will grant me your forgiveness.”

Before Kanbei could finish speaking, Nobunaga rose from the camp stool and walked over. And dropped to one knee right before him. And, extending that hand, he stroked Kanbei’s protruding shoulder bone.

“Kanbei. At this point, Nobunaga has no words to say. I was angry at you. It must have been that I so valued your talents. I suspected you had fabricated a pretext to enter Itami Castle and side with Araki. Afterward, it remained unclear whether you were even in Itami or not, yet my suspicions did not abate. ...Until just last night.” “All of this stems solely from calamities I invited through my own shortsightedness. I offer no excuse.”

“No—that apology should come from Nobunaga. “Forgive me.” “You honor me too much.” “Forgive me, Kanbei.” “Please say no more. I have no place to stand.” “Just as even a wise man like you can err in his wisdom, Nobunaga too has erred this time. The hostage Matsuchiyo sent by you—this past January, Nobunaga ordered his head cut off.... Do you resent me?” “None at all—I bear no resentment.” “He must have been dear to you.” “If he was your heir, all the more so.”

“As a parent, I felt such pity for my child that I would have gladly taken his place... Yet in these turbulent times—” “Do you blame the world for it?” “I do not think so.” “You don’t blame Nobunaga, you don’t blame the world—then who do you blame?” “I cannot attribute this to anyone’s fault, but if you would occasionally glance upon this as but a mere pebble among many being laid for the great cause of unifying the realm, no greater solace could exist for me.”

At that moment, Maeda Toshiie—who had been waiting by the camp stool—was called by Yuasa Jinsuke and briskly stepped outside the tent.

What an eventful day this was! That very morning, at this camp gate, there arrived someone who would astonish both Nobunaga and Kanbei all the more—a visitor who had tethered his horse and requested an audience. He laid his hair upon the earth.

1

A certain general with a frail-looking, slender, pale-skinned frame and bearing unbefitting a warrior.

Around thirteen or fourteen years old. Clad in armor befitting his stature was an endearing young warrior with rounded eyes and dimpled cheeks.

——Now.

It was these two who dismounted their horses at this camp gate. Since they had three or four retainers on foot accompanying them, they immediately handed over their dismounted horses to their attendants, and the emaciated warrior—taking along the young warrior— “I wish to have an audience with Lord Nobunaga.” and conveyed his request through the gate guard commander, “I am Takenaka Shigeharu—having been granted leave from the Chūgoku front due to illness for recuperation, having secluded myself for a long time in my hometown’s Hōdaiyama Castle and Nanzenji Temple, devoting myself to medicinal treatments. As I feel my health has somewhat recovered of late, I am now on my way back to the Chūgoku battlefield—and have stopped by both to pay my respects and offer congratulations on the fall of Itami Castle.”

he added. When the commander relayed [the message] to headquarters, Ujiie Sakyonosuke and Yuasa Jinsuke emerged. Both were acquainted with Takenaka Shigeharu, "Oh! Why have you come here today?" At this inopportune arrival, they welcomed him with eyes wide in astonishment. And then, Jinsuke, "The child accompanying you—whose son is he? I was under the impression you had no son..."

As he looked puzzled, Shigeharu— “Take a good look. “This is indeed Lord Kuroda’s heir Matsuchiyo, whom I had received into my care from Lord Nobunaga. “I wished to show how robustly he has grown—both to his father Kanbei and before our lord’s eyes. When I heard last night at Nanzenji that Itami Castle was engulfed in flames from the full assault, I spurred my horse onward and rushed here without delay.”

he said nonchalantly. But the shock of those who heard this was beyond measure. For it had become common knowledge that Matsuchiyo was already dead to the world. Therefore, they could not help but feel great anxiety and hesitation in conveying this unexpected turn of events directly to Nobunaga. Therefore, they thought to thoroughly inquire into the circumstances once or twice more, but it seemed that news of Takenaka’s arrival had already reached Nobunaga’s ears, for the page Mori Oran—

“Lord Yuasa, Lord Ujiie—in any case, His Lordship commands that Lord Takenaka be summoned here at once. He seems to be in quite a hurry about something, so bring him immediately.” Mori Oran came running from a distant tent and pressed them.

“Farewell—” With that, Yuasa and Ujiie followed after Oran and reverently guided Shigeharu Takenaka and Matsuchiyo into the tent. Indeed, as if timed by prior arrangement, there sat Kuroda Kanbei—still propped upon the stretcher. As for what filled Kanbei’s eyes when he first beheld Shigeharu and Matsuchiyo—to capture this through my crude brush would pale before leaving it to the imagination of parents everywhere to grasp its truth.

2

Kanbei was not a direct retainer of Nobunaga, but Takenaka Shigeharu held the status of a direct retainer in the Oda clan. In accordance with his station, he quietly sat facing Nobunaga. Apologizing for having long neglected his military duties due to illness, and offering congratulations on the victory at Itami and Nobunaga's continued health, his tone throughout bore no trace of urgency befitting a crisis. As for the boy Matsuchiyo whom he kept at his side, he did not mention anything about him until questioned by his lord.

Nobunaga, unable to endure any longer, finally asked thus.

“Shigeharu. “Who is this child you have brought with you?” Then, for the first time, Shigeharu’s tranquil face held a smile like a pond’s surface rippling when a pebble is dropped, “Have you already forgotten? “This is Matsuchiyo, the Kuroda family’s hostage whom Your Lordship commanded me to take into my care and raise properly at Azuchi Castle in years past—” “From the start, that must be Matsuchiyo—but? “I can see that... but—” But how was Matsuchiyo still alive? Nobunaga had indeed ordered that Matsuchiyo’s head be cut off. “I believe that was at the end of last year, but—”

“As Your Lordship says.” “And you—obeying my command—soon had his head cut off and presented at Azuchi. What do you mean by this?” “It was a false head from the start.” “What?! A false head?”

“Yes.” “Having prepared myself for Your Lordship’s subsequent punishment, I humbly deceived you.” “Hmm... So that’s how it was.”

With a groan, Nobunaga took in Matsuchiyo’s figure once more. The contrast between Takenaka Shigeharu and Nobunaga resembled that of fire and water. The eyes of the side retainers—who had been watching the unfolding events with bated breath—now unwittingly gathered upon Nobunaga’s complexion and the corners of his lips. No trace of the anger people had feared showed itself upon Nobunaga’s countenance. Rather, within a calmness that seemed profoundly relieved, even uncontainable joy overflowed. And in this man’s eyes, a candid self-reflection—unlike anything ever witnessed before—moved visibly within his gaze.

“...I see.” “So that’s how it was.” He still knew no other way to speak than this. Looking at Kanbei—the parent—his stunned silence seemed all the more natural. For even Kanbei, seeing before him the child who should have died now unexpectedly grown healthy before his eyes, could not separate himself from the ordinary parental attachments of this world. Choking back tears and sniffles, the more he tried to restrain himself, the more his body lying prostrate on the stretcher writhed in anguish.

“...Now I humbly entreat you to impose punishment upon me.” Takenaka Shigeharu then addressed Nobunaga resolutely, without any hint of shame. “Having twisted your august command to follow my own discretion constitutes a crime meriting ten thousand deaths.” “The law must never be subverted.” “My sole purpose in coming before you today is to receive your judgment—there exists no other reason.” “I earnestly beg you to pronounce the sentence of death upon this unworthy servant.” At this, Kanbei—his immobilized body convulsing involuntarily—let out a cry from atop the stretcher that seemed both a wail and a shout.

“I am humbled.” “Lord Shigeharu.” “For your friendship—Kanbei lacks words to convey his thanks.” “Though I perish, your compassion shall never fade from memory.” “...Yet I cannot trade your noble life for one such as my son’s.” Surely upon seeing Matsuchiyo, his father’s hand had beckoned.

“O-Matsu. Come here.” “Yes, Father.”

Matsuchiyo approached his father’s side. Upon seeing his father’s wasted form, this boy could not hold back his tears. He covered his face with both hands and burst into sobs. “It’s unseemly for a samurai’s child to look like this.” Kanbei admonished yet soothed him, “After your parent, who is your greatest benefactor?” “Lord Takenaka Shigeharu.” “That may be so, “Then you’ll show some understanding.” “How can we let the great benefactor who saved you die?” “Before Lord Shigeharu is sentenced to death by his lord’s censure, you must take that dagger you carry and slit your belly to die.” “Your father will watch over you.” “You are your father’s child.” “Die in a way that won’t make everyone ridicule you!”

“Yes, Father.”

The boy answered, widening his round eyes as much as possible. His face swelled with the effort not to cry. And then he took the dagger and began to undo his sash. And then—

At that moment, Nobunaga suddenly walked over and tapped the boy’s shoulder two or three times. And then, as if distributing his words equally—both to Kanbei and to Takenaka Shigeharu—he said: “My boy. “That’s enough now. “There’s no need to die. “All this stemmed from Nobunaga’s error. “First, forgive this error. “Long ago in China too...”

While returning to his camp stool once more, he cast his gaze toward the attendants on both sides and spoke. “Regarding Cao Cao of Wei—long ago, while marching through wheat fields, he took pity on the peasants and issued an edict: ‘Anyone who damages the wheat shall be beheaded.’" "But then Cao Cao’s own horse bolted and trampled the wheat fields." “Then Cao Cao—having issued the law himself and then violated it—cut off his own hair and cast it to the ground, declaring, ‘With what authority can I command my soldiers?’ …Shigeharu, wasn’t this a story I once heard from you?”

“So it was.” “Nobunaga too must cut his hair and cast it to the earth—though I do not follow Han customs, in spirit I reproach myself just as deeply.” “Shigeharu, go immediately to Chūgoku and assist Hideyoshi.” “Kanbei, you shall go to the nearby Arima Hot Springs and convalesce there for the time being.”

Nobunaga then,

“O-Matsu. “Come here.” Nobunaga called him over beneath the camp stool, “Good child,” he said, patting the boy’s head. “You have a father as great as that and a teacher as splendid as this—you are truly fortunate. You will surely achieve great military feats in the days to come. Follow Shigeharu and march to Chūgoku. Nobunaga will have you celebrate your debut campaign.” With that, he took his own wakizashi and bestowed it into Matsuchiyo’s hands.

III

The military palanquin arrived at Ikenobo in Arima.

Hidari Tachibana Uemon, proprietor of Ikenobo, instructed his hired help and guided the critically ill patient to a secluded back room away from prying eyes. And the members of the household united their hearts and respectfully, kindly cared for him. It had been a year. Kanbei soaked in the hot water. His body—reduced to bones and skin—was supported like a fragile object by the hands of maidservants and male inn attendants, who carefully lowered him into the bath.

Kanbei rested his head against the edge of the bath. But his body threatened to float up.

“Ah…” For the first time, he felt within himself something resembling human awareness. I live—he realized. “How strange... How strange this is.” “How strange this is.” Looking back as if only now comprehending it all, everything seemed miraculous. Matsuchiyo was alive—this struck him more profoundly than his own survival. It was a miracle surpassing miracles. He felt that “all of this stemmed from Shigeharu Takenaka’s friendship,” while simultaneously sensing—inescapably—the grace of Hideyoshi who stood behind it. Ultimately, he could not help but apprehend Heaven and Earth’s design.

"If one were to think broadly," he reflected, "both those who had spared his life and those who had saved his child could only be attributed to the will of some great unseen force." "By keeping Kanbei alive, what does heaven now command this body to accomplish in the world?" Ultimately his contemplations arrived there. In this state there was neither trivial love nor hatred nor any present grievances. Only the urge to regain his health quickly and answer heaven’s will throbbed within him.

“From the beginning, it would be ill-advised for your lordship to linger too long in the bath. Please content yourself with this much today.” With that, Hidari Tachibana Uemon, the proprietor, directed the servants as they moved Kanbei’s body as if scooping something up with a bamboo draining basket. No grime was washed away that day. However, as his hair had grown long like a woman’s over the past year, they merely lightly combed it and tied it back with a string. When they dressed him in clothes free of lice and he lay supine upon soft bedding, the sensation of floating weightlessly through empty air lingered unceasingly.

When night fell, Kuriyama Zensuke and Mori Tahei arrived later and conveyed the subsequent battle conditions at Itami. They informed him that this time, the Oda army would not allow the enemy a moment's respite and would immediately launch a second general attack against Araki Murashige’s still-formidable two castles of Amagasaki and Hanakuma. "Furthermore, Lord Takenaka had accompanied Lord Matsuchiyo and, not long after that, requested leave from Lord Nobunaga to depart for Banshu. Though Lady Wakako seemed eager to come to your side, her spirits for her debut campaign were exceptional, and she left in good health alongside Lord Takenaka."

Kanbei had been listening cheerfully all along to the news being related at his bedside when eventually, perhaps due to exhaustion from the bath,

"I'm a bit sleepy," he said and covered his eyes.

He sank into a deep sleep. And after what span of time had passed? When he suddenly awoke and looked around, only a quiet lamp burned at his bedside. No footsteps of the inn’s attendants could be heard, no figures of the night watchmen Tahei or Zensuke seen—only the voice of the wind through the pines outside the window played alone in the deepening night.

――I want water. He thought to call for water, but finding no one present, merely rolled his eyes upward to look around his bedside—when Kanbei suddenly stiffened. It was akin to the shock one might feel upon glimpsing something uncanny. “W-who are you?”

He called out involuntarily. For he had spotted the figure of a young woman in a corner of the room where the lamplight barely reached—her back to the wall, head bowed motionless as if wishing to vanish into nothingness.

When he barked, “Who’s there?” she too seemed to stiffen. She darted a glance toward Kanbei but immediately clasped her hands,

“My name is Kiku…” she answered in a voice so low it was nearly inaudible.

Bond of the Heart

One

“What? Okiku?” he asked doubtfully, but Kuroda Kanbei still widened his eyes sharply— “Oh! Aren’t you the daughter of Yojirouemon of Harima? Aren’t you that Okiku?” He repeated like someone in a dream. Before she could answer, he pressed again impatiently: “When I was imprisoned in Itami Castle—was it not you who called my name from outside that high window where the wisteria vines crept? It was early summer, when the wisteria’s shoots were still tender.”

Okiku nodded. And whether she had newly called back to her heart the painful memories from that time, tears spilled onto her lap.

“Why were you in Itami Castle?”

As if he had now begun to unravel a long-standing mystery, Kuroda Kanbei even forgot the pain in his body within the sickbed. At that moment, Kuriyama Zensuke opened the sliding door and—

“Have you awakened, your lordship?” he said, bringing in a decoction on a tray. “Zensuke? I want water. Give me water first,” Kanbei said. When he spoke, “I shall bring it.”

With that, Okiku immediately stood up and left.

After that, Zensuke whispered. “You must have been surprised, my lord.” “It was utterly unexpected. Why would Yojirouemon’s daughter come here?” “On the night we escaped Itami Castle—even after you had fled—Kinugasa Hisaemon alone remained behind. After much searching, he found Lady Okiku fallen into that old pond behind the prison and barely managed to rescue her.”

“Ah... So she was present that night as well—during those events?” “It was Lady Okiku who ventured through flames and smoke to guide us to your lordship’s location.” “Without her intervention then, I doubt whether we retainers could have reunited with our lord like this.” “What baffles me remains why that Okiku was within Itami Castle’s walls. I was questioning her about it just now...” “From the very moment we thirteen pledged our lives to rescue your lordship and departed Himeji, Lady Okiku had already joined our band of sworn companions.”

“With that frail body…” “Her father Yojirouemon being advanced in years, she insisted our comrades take her in his stead—and through her sworn brotherhood with Shiroganeya Shinpachi of Itami, she used his connections to sway defectors within the castle walls, infiltrated the inner chambers as a servant, and secretly monitored your lordship’s condition all along.” This was the first time Kanbei had learned these details. As if numbed by the peculiar emotion gripping his heart, he kept silent.

The quiet footsteps in the corridor reached both lord and retainer at that moment. It was Okiku. She had drawn the ordered water into a vessel and returned. After letting her give him a bowl of water from her hands, Kuroda Kanbei lay back again to adjust his position and covered his eyes against the pillow. “All of you should rest.” He gave this order both to the two present and to Morita Tahei and Kinugasa Hisaemon in the adjoining room, then soon had the lamp by his pillow put out.

Two

After about ten days had passed, Kuroda Kanbei became able to go from his room to the bathhouse by himself. “I want to go to Chūgoku. I want to join the siege of Miki Castle without a moment’s delay.”

When his body began functioning again, Kanbei kept insisting, giving his retainers considerable trouble as they tried to placate him. Nobunaga had sent frequent inquiries about his condition. Each time the envoy visited, “Focus on fully healing your body,” came the message. “Even after recovery, you should return to Himeji and rest at leisure.” He delivered both this gracious command of no small significance and various gifts. From Kanbei came a request: “Lord Hashiba still maintains the prolonged siege of Miki Castle even now—the hardships of this extended campaign are said to be extraordinary. Once I have recovered from my illness, I humbly beg permission to join the Chūgoku campaign as before.”

he requested that it be conveyed to Nobunaga. Of course, there was no issue with that matter, but Nobunaga sent another inquiry after his health, earnestly urging him not to overexert himself.

“I’m fine now. I can even ride a horse. I’m leaving this inn tomorrow.”

It was the twentieth day.

Kanbei finally declared, showing no sign of relenting. Having no choice, the retainers informed the innkeeper, “Please arrange horses,” they requested. The reason Morita Tahei and Kuriyama Zensuke had been concerned was not only their lord’s physical condition but also the perilous nature of the return journey.

Itami had fallen, but Amagasaki Castle—where Araki Murashige remained—was still under siege by Oda forces, and Hana no Kuma Castle in Hyogo had not yet been taken either. Dangers along the journey were naturally to be expected. However, they knew full well that if they tried to stop him by citing danger, Kanbei’s temperament would only make him more determined to press on. Thus, they had not breathed a word of this until today, instead focusing entirely on having other comrades investigate conditions along the route and determine the safest paths to take.

There was a report stating that "Safe passage through Hyogo-guchi ultimately proved extremely difficult," Additionally, "Traveling by ship from the sea was the safest method, but departing from Osaka ultimately proved dangerous due to collusion with the Hongan-ji." "There was no other way but to hire fishing boats around Mikage and depart in secret." They had also heard this from people in that area. However, judging from the rumors circulating even here, maritime traffic in fact seemed the most perilous of all.

For at present, with the Hashiba forces pinned down at Miki Castle and the Oda main army engaged in besieging Araki Murashige, even the Mōri could not remain mere spectators. The Mōri forces, wielding their maritime supremacy over what might be called their private domain—the Seto Inland Sea—had recently stationed warships both large and small across these waters. From the Chūgoku coast to the stretch between Osaka and Aki Province, their naval patrols kept such vigilant watch that not a single vessel’s passage went unnoticed—or so the reports claimed.

“If we encounter unforeseen peril, being cut down in battle would be simple enough—but your body remains far from recovered, and with one leg still useless, charging through enemy territory would prove impossible for you... Which route truly offers the safest passage?” This problem had vexed Tahei and Zensuke until the night before departing the hot spring inn. However, Shiroganeya Shinpachi—who had not shown his face for some time—suddenly arrived bearing an unexpected stratagem. Bringing this solution as an offering, he visited the inn at dawn on their departure day.

It was a passport from the Konoe family. The association between Kanbei’s grandfather Akashi Masakaze and the Konoe family’s head had ceased in recent years, but their connection through the way of poetry was by no means shallow. Shiroganeya Shinpachi had occasionally undertaken work for the Konoe family in the past, so when the siege of Itami was lifted, he went to Kyoto with a comrade, Goto Uemon, explained Kanbei's situation, and successfully obtained a letter from court nobles certifying that officials on Konoe family business would be traveling westward.

Three

He could barely walk without a cane. The injured leg—though the flesh of the wound had closed—had left him unable to walk without a severe limp. "This will likely never heal." That morning, seen off by the innkeeper Hidari Tachibana Uemon and a crowd of people, Kuroda Kanbei walked out to the eaves of the hot spring inn and, gazing at his injured leg, muttered those words.

The hired horse was led over.

Kanbei tried to place his hand on the saddle but could not mount. With the help of those around him, he finally settled into the saddle.

“It’s a handicap for a samurai not to be able to mount a horse alone.” “I suppose I’ll have to practice mounting repeatedly from now on.” He laughed from horseback. At this, the many people of the inn bowed their heads beneath the eaves.

“I’ve been in your care for so long, you know.”

Kuroda Kanbei urged his horse forward. Though mounting had been difficult, once seated, even with just one stirrup, he appeared unimpeded. Then Kuriyama Zensuke approached the horse's side, "My lord, my lord. Please bestow some words upon her." he pressed in a hushed voice.

Kanbei had already been looking toward where he was being urged to direct his attention. At the crossroads of Yunomachi just outside Ikenobo, Okiku stood silently seeing them off. By her side was her brother-in-law Shiroganeya Shinpachi. Both lowered their hands to their knees in silent farewell when they met Kanbei's gaze. Kanbei urged his horse closer until he stood directly before them. Okiku kept her face lowered, refusing to look up. He gazed at her as if waiting for her to raise her eyes.

“Okiku.” “……Yes…” “When will you return home to Shikama?” “……” Okiku turned bright red for some reason. She kept her eyes lowered but appeared to be weeping. Tears spilled onto the tips of her toes. Kuroda Kanbei did not grasp the meaning behind her tears. He had assumed she was simply grieving a simple parting. With a carefree manner reminiscent of old times, he tried to console her sorrow. “It may remain difficult for some time yet, but once Miki Castle falls and this campaign ends, I’ll visit Yojirouemon’s house again." “…By then, you’ll likely have returned to Shikama yourself…”

Then her tears flowed even faster down her cheeks. As if unable to bear watching any longer, her brother-in-law Shinpachi hurriedly stepped in for her. "My lord. Okiku will no longer be returning to Shikama." "Hoh.—So she's staying here?" "Though we do not yet know where she will reside, a marriage arrangement has been settled with a certain gentleman, and she will soon be wed." "What, she's marrying into another family?...Now that you mention it, she is of that age, I suppose."

Suddenly, Kuroda Kanbei too seemed gripped by loneliness. He scrutinized her figure intently. Until yesterday, in the room where he had been recuperating from illness, a single chrysanthemum branch she had placed in a Tanba ware vase had often filled the air with fragrance. Even leaving that behind this morning had somehow felt ephemeral—when suddenly, a surge of sensitive blood coursed violently through his entire being. Yet he remained utterly nonchalant,

“I see. That is... most auspicious. “And which family is she marrying into?” “He was formerly of Araki’s household but, through this recent battle’s turn, has joined the Oda forces—Itami Wataru, son of Itami Hyōgo-no-kami—to whom she is now betrothed by arrangement.” Shinpachi struggled to voice this as her brother-in-law. Had it not been such a public crossroads as Yunomachi’s, Okiku might have crumpled weeping. She hid behind her brother-in-law’s back, face buried in her sleeve.

“Hmm. To think she’s marrying the son of Itami Hyōgo-no-kami, a surrendered general—what an odd twist of fate. But no—even if he’s a turncoat, now that he serves under Lord Oda, I too am one under his command. May you live happily.” “Thank you kindly.”

“Okiku. For a long time yet—even now—I shall not forget what happened within the castle walls while Kanbei still draws breath. Once wedded, become a proper wife.”

Okiku could not answer. She remained hidden behind Shinpachi’s back. But the moment Kanbei’s horse moved, she parted her sleeve and desperately caught a glimpse of the man on horseback. Kuroda Kanbei also turned back. And catching a glimpse of her unbearably wounded eyelids, he—contrary to his heart’s pull backward—lightly struck his horse’s flank with a whip.

Taihee, Hisaemon, Zensuke, and the others, urged on by this, offered only hurried words of farewell and galloped off following the horse’s hooves.

IV

Even when passing through Hyōgo Pass into Banshū Province, they encountered no difficulties on the road. As the proverb says "The birth proves easier than the fear," they only needed to present their talismanic travel pass from the Konoe family once—at the Minatogawa crossing gate near Hanakuma Castle. "In Himeji—from our retired lord down to Her Ladyship and Lady Wako—they must be rejoicing endlessly over your return while awaiting you daily. You likely cannot fathom their anticipation." Even Zensuke and Taihee gossiped along the way, vividly imagining these scenes through their words, while Kuroda Kanbei too wore an expression yearning to reunite with them at once,

“That’s right. After all, one who was never supposed to return alive is doing just that—returning alive.” They had been conversing cheerfully like this, but upon reaching the vicinity of Kakogawa, they abruptly changed their course. “For me, having Zensuke alone accompany me will suffice. Hisaemon and Taihee—return ahead and properly inform those in Himeji of my safety. Once Miki Castle falls too, I shall return at some point.”

With that, he gave only a message to his home province along the way and immediately headed deep into northern Harima, where Hideyoshi had been laying siege for months. As they advanced into the mountains, autumn's hues deepened sharply, abruptly reminding them of the season's passage. The wretched roads bore deep ruts left by supply wagons and horses. Everywhere lay remnants of shattered palisades and trenches, while broken swords and rusted helmet bowls in the grass spoke silently of the years of relentless warfare that had ravaged this land.

Afterward, Hideyoshi’s forces had stormed one fortress after another, advancing their headquarters from the former position at Hirai Mountain—where Kanbei had once been stationed—far forward, and still faced off against Miki Castle, which yet held firm. Hideyoshi’s camp had been relocated to a high ground so close that if one were to call out, their voice would reach the enemy. “Takataka has now returned.” “Oh! “Kanbei?” “I have caused you concern,”

“Truly, for a time I feared the worst… But you’ve done well—remarkably well done.” When Hideyoshi and Kanbei reunited here after over a year, the depth of their emotions defied all description. Moreover, these were two men who needed no multitude of words to share what they felt. The original text of the Masakuki, which chronicles those actual events, most faithfully conveys the circumstances of that time and vividly depicts even these fleeting aspects of the two heroes’ bearing, leaving nothing wanting.

Lord Chikuzen met Takatekata, took his hand, and pressed it to his face—truly, this reunion in their present lives brought him joy. Now then—their loyal devotion in abandoning life itself to infiltrate an enemy castle this time stood as an exemplar to the world. When he wept incoherently about how to repay this debt, Takatekata too could not hold back tears for some time. Kuroda Kanbei was comforted. More than Nobunaga’s merciful decree, more than the single branch Kikujo had arranged—it was this. Through tears, Hideyoshi poured his heart into Kanbei’s hands, and through that singular bond between men, he found he could forget everything. The year of bitter suffering, this body now crippled for life—having cast all that aside, and yet beyond it—

For this man’s sake—

He could not help but solidify this conviction.

美人臨死可儀容

I

Kuroda Kanbei was alive and well. Kuroda Kanbei had returned safely to camp. This news instantly spread through the allied trenches and ramparts. Against the impregnable enemy castle, the allies, who had shown considerable fatigue from the prolonged siege, now gained a fresh thread of morale. His return held great significance in itself. Takenaka Shigeharu, who had earlier gone down to Chūgoku with Matsuchiyo, came to Hideyoshi’s encampment immediately upon receiving the news,

“Ah, it has been far too long since we last met. To behold you safe and sound today—truly fortune and calamity twist together like strands of rope. Life’s uncertainties remain beyond our ken.”

As usual, he was taciturn and expressionless, but in the spiritual truth of rejoicing over his friend’s revival, he even surpassed Hideyoshi.

That night, Hideyoshi hosted a modest banquet, “Even in this war camp where provisions dwindle daily, should our jarred sake run scarce, let us savor what grace remains in its essence. After so long—a moment among just ourselves—” Thus did the lord and his two retainers sit around a three-legged stool, talking deep into the night.

The autumn in the mountains was cold. Kanbei still restrained himself from drinking much, and Shigeharu scarcely took a cup in hand either. It might have been due to the moonlight streaming through the encampment's eaves, but Kanbei grew concerned at Shigeharu's unnaturally pallid face and suddenly inquired: "Speaking of which—has your condition improved at all? All day today, they've been celebrating my safe return, but—" "No, this one's body remains unchanged..."

With that, Shigeharu looked back at his own emaciated frame and offered a wry smile. "Ultimately, this ailing body is incurable—it seems even the physicians have thrown in the towel." "However, I have met a lord so renowned one might not encounter even in a hundred years, had a dear friend hard to find even with long life, and moreover, was born into an age like no other—having already lived thirty-six years, I have no cause to feel wanting toward heaven." In truth, Shigeharu’s condition that evening was such that he had a fever and was intermittently seized by chills.

The reason he had pushed through his convalescence to return to this battlefield was not because his illness had healed, but because he had realized his disease was incurable and his death drew near. Having resolved it would be an unbearable disgrace for one born a warrior to die upon tatami mats, he had accompanied Matsuchiyo down to Chūgoku and taken that opportunity to return to Hideyoshi's side. Hideyoshi too had discerned his condition showed no improvement compared to before and grew deeply concerned, yet in Shigeharu's bearing there existed a nobility that seemed to have made transparent peace with life and death. Hideyoshi's words could not sway that resolute form.

II

Autumn had deepened. Takenaka Shigeharu’s illness was suddenly reported to have become critical.

The curtains of his encampment swayed desolately in the evening wind. That night, within the log-built sickroom, both Hideyoshi and Kanbei had remained unwaveringly at his bedside since the previous night, exhausting every means of nursing care. "It seems the time for farewell has come." "May you remain in good health as well, my lord." "And to Lord Kanbei as well." Shigeharu, aware of his final moments, announced to those gathered at his bedside. Hideyoshi drew near as though to cling to him, "Now, with the Chūgoku campaign still halfway done, parting with you feels like losing a lamp in dark night." "I revered you as my teacher and relied on you as my right arm... Must you depart so soon?" "You're being cruel, Shigeharu." "...Shigeharu."

He wailed, and though many close retainers were in the next room, he continued to lament without pretense, unable to stop. Shigeharu called his younger brother Takenaka Shigekado and a page, had them quietly help him sit up, faced Hideyoshi, respectfully expressed gratitude for the lifelong favor he had received, and then spoke in his usual tone: "The death of a person is akin to leaves falling from treetops to return to the earth. Though one might call those who depart unfeeling and those who remain sorrowful, when viewed from the grand perspective of the seasons, it is but an utterly ordinary face of nature." "For one who is my lord to shed such lingering tears now is unlike your usual self." "Moreover, Lord Nobunaga’s grand endeavor remains midway, and Your Lordship’s future holds extraordinary prospects." "This is no time for idle lamentations." "...Moreover, even after this Shigeharu dies, Lord Kuroda Kanbei Yoshitaka remains here." “Lord Yoshitaka was, to this Shigeharu, a warrior who truly knows another warrior—a kindred spirit.” "Moreover, as for future plans—if you entrust them all to each other, there will surely be no mistake... As for what little this unworthy one has learned that might be of service, I believe I have conveyed nearly all of it by now, and you have deeply comprehended it..."

When he finished speaking, he gazed deeply at the night scene outside, “Ah, the moon is pale, the wind pure… This world is truly a beautiful place.” “Now, what moonlit nights await on the journey ahead...” He murmured, then had them gently lay him back down once more. From the armor chest he had prepared while still alive, he requested the prayer beads and Buddhist robe inside, had them placed beside him, and closed his eyes. After a short while, he slightly opened his eyes to glance around as if letting slip a single word of farewell—but by then, his pulse had already ceased. Though Kanbei called out to him, though Hideyoshi called out to him, there was no answer again.

“It’s a shame Matsuchiyo couldn’t arrive in time.” Kuroda Kanbei repeated only that. As soon as Shigeharu fell critically ill, he dispatched a messenger to Himeji, (Your great benefactor is in critical condition—come immediately to attend to him.) and he had sent someone to bring him.

Matsuchiyo arrived here late that night. He had come galloping on horseback alongside Morita Tahei, Gotō Uemon, and others, but ultimately did not arrive in time before Shigeharu’s passing. This boy, too, grieved over Shigeharu’s death as though he had lost a mentor who had been by his side for ten years. No, the death of this young and great strategist could not help but cast a pall of grief over the entire besieging army. When this man was present, he naturally carried weight in the camp, and all officers and soldiers felt at ease without exception. Such was Shigeharu, revered by the entire army to that extent. His sickly body was too frail to endure heavy armor, yet he—alongside Kuroda Kanbei Yoshitaka—had been called the twin pillars of Hideyoshi and relied upon as a repository of wisdom.

“Hmm… So he was only thirty-six years old at that time?” It is said that throughout the three armies—down to the lowliest soldier—none could refrain from mourning his untimely passing.

III

When December arrived, the battle situation in Settsu took a sudden turn. Needless to say, the overwhelming superiority of the Oda forces had completely eradicated Araki’s faction. Back when they were still holding Itami, (Persuade Murashige to surrender Amagasaki and Hanakuma) The old retainers of Araki who had left the castle after making a pact with the Oda forces could no longer remain among their allies because Murashige refused to comply, nor could they bring themselves to join the Oda army, ultimately fleeing to parts unknown.

After that, when Itami Castle fell, He realized this place too was now in peril.

Seeing this, Murashige moved to Amagasaki. And then, as the enemy's fierce pursuit closed in, he once again secretly fled the castle, escaped by boat from Hyōgo Beach out to sea, threw himself upon the Mori clan's naval forces, and begged for their aid. The people scoffed.

(Wasn't this Murashige, who had betrayed Nobunaga by trusting in the Mōri clan's aid and pledges?) Even after Itami, Amagasaki, and Hanakuma—all three castles—had been crushed, he still clung to that faithless country that wouldn't even send reinforcements, still unawakened to reality, fleeing there to beg for their protection—how utterly despicable. But before long, around the nineteenth day of the twelfth month of that year, the people witnessed an even more grievous and despicable end for samurai houses.

It was the disposal of the wives, children, elderly, young, and female servants whom Murashige and his clan had entrusted to the Oda forces.

At Nanatsu-matsu in Amagasaki, Nobunaga had these pitiful individuals mercilessly slaughtered en masse. However much they were families of rebels, however much it was meant as a warning to despicable warriors, the punishment seemed excessively cruel. Using fire, spears, and guns, they executed over five hundred men and women at crossroads, and the people were horrified by Nobunaga's severity. And everyone could not help but turn a blind eye, at least in part, to the cruelty inherent in one aspect of Nobunaga.

However, no one could direct criticism toward Nobunaga. Of course, they condemned the cowardice of men like Araki Murashige and his ilk. They maliciously whispered that such men were not fit to stand in the company of true samurai. Yet in stark contrast to those cowardly men and women, a certain woman who met her end with extraordinary dignity became the talk of the town. That woman too was among those beheaded at Nanatsu-matsu crossroads that day; even when dragged from the carriage without showing distress—wearing a vibrant robe over her death garment—as the execution commenced,

“Please wait a moment.”

In a clear voice that silenced those around her, she straightened her obi, swept her hair high at the roots, and composed herself with solemn dignity— “I am ready.”

With that signal, she met a dignified end that even men could not surpass—or so it was said. "They say that was a woman called Muro-dono who once served at Itami Castle."

It was rumored by none in particular, but shortly after her death, a woman appeared with two nuns in tow to claim the severed head and kosode. "Could she be Muro-dono’s sister?" "Might she be the wife of some samurai family?" People speculated eagerly about this, but ultimately no one learned the woman’s identity. It was discovered much later that she had been the wife of Itami Wataru, a new retainer under Oda Nobusumi’s command. And that wife’s name was known as Kiku.

IV

“My lord.” “Are you contemplating something?” “Kanbei—they say poor plans resemble rest itself.” “I was simply staring blankly at that impregnable enemy fortress.” “Lately, during these moments of silent displeasure, you appear utterly drained of vigor.” “Do I seem so lacking in spirit? …This won’t do at all.”

Hideyoshi muttered, then suddenly shook his head and laughed as though trying to summon back his cheerfulness. “Not right—what precisely is not right?” “That’s just it. Even now, when my mind goes vacant, Takenaka Shigeharu’s visage lingers stubbornly—it vexes me deeply. It may sound like complaining—but were Shigeharu here, I would lament my own lack of wisdom.” “Ah.” “Worldly attachments.” “Truly, I am mired in worldly attachments.” “No—while you say that, isn’t this partly your rebuke toward this Kanbei for lacking strategy? That I should have devised some proper scheme by now?”

“Hahahaha.” “You may take it that way.”

The two men laughed heartily. In truth, since losing Takenaka Shigeharu, Hideyoshi had been in a daze for a time. He spoke of Shigeharu’s memory at every turn, with almost unmanly frequency. Moreover, on one occasion, he went so far as to say: (To have witnessed his death was, for this Lord Chikuzen, a sorrow greater than Shu losing Kongming.) Every time he heard this, Kanbei even felt envious of his dead friend. While being moved by Hideyoshi’s profound affection for his loyal vassal, Kanbei also found himself marveling at just how deeply Shigeharu had been trusted and esteemed.

(For his lord who had lost an arm and grown despondent, he himself must now become both arms.) He had secretly sworn this oath, but it seemed too presumptuous a resolve to ever give voice to.

Even now—still— What Hideyoshi was silently telling himself could only be the impregnable enemy fortress before his eyes. It was a pressing demand—Kanbei, isn’t there some stratagem to take it already?—that he conveyed. It was impatience. Kuroda Kanbei had well discerned the reason for this impatience over the past two or three days.

For a few days prior, from Nobunaga’s side— ――The entire Settsu region—all matters there have already been settled. The extermination of the Araki faction has also been completed. Now then, how fares Miki Castle in Chūgoku under its long siege?

For along with such a notification, he had also inquired about the state of the battle here. Nobunaga’s impatience had naturally become Hideyoshi’s own anxiety. As for Kanbei, he had long been agonizing over this matter even in his sleep, finally conceived a plan, devoted himself to it since the day before yesterday, and now having at last found a lead, had come here to consult about it. "My lord, you must have heard that within the enemy’s Miki Castle resides a man called Lord Shōgen Motokuni Gotō."

“Gotō Motokuni is a senior retainer of Commander Bessho Kosaburo—but what of him?”

“Last night, he came.” “Where to?” “To my encampment—secretly slipping out of the castle.” “What? Are you saying Gotō has come to surrender?” “Not at all. He is no coward like the Araki kind.” “Then why did he come?” “In truth—Komori Yosaemon being an acquaintance of mine who serves as second-in-command under Lord Shōgen Gotō—he sent an arrow-borne letter requesting talks; through [Gotō’s] guidance I secretly met with him as well. Owing to this success late last night he had his retainers bring his eight-year-old child to visit.”

“With his child?” “Yes. “It is Lord Motokuni’s only child.” “Entrusting him to this enemy—myself—he returned to the castle.” “…My lord.” “The fall of Miki Castle will be no more than two or three days now.”

“Is that true?” “Why would I lie?” “How can you be so sure?”

“Within the castle walls, there remains neither grass to eat nor tree bark—they have devoured even horse carcasses and rats.” “The military provisions ran dry months ago, yet the defenders’ spirit remains undiminished.” “Were they to charge out with that death-resolved fervor, even should we take the castle, our losses would prove no trivial matter.” “……Have you accounted for this?”

“We cannot withstand their desperate vanguard’s assault.” “Therefore, we must avoid that—this one’s careful deliberation lies precisely there.”

“Then what you think is exactly what I think.” “What will we do?”

“Tonight, I will enter the castle myself and meet with Commander Bessho Kosaburo and his clan members to press my earnest persuasion. First, I shall lay bare the logic of gain and loss—how even Araki has fallen, how even he was abandoned by Mōri and left to perish—and thereby convince them.” “Hmm. An enemy that has held firm for two full years—do you imagine mere eloquence alone might suffice…?” “Does some particular concern give you pause, my lord?”

“There is indeed.” “In what regard?” “I fear that once again, a wise man may become ensnared by his own wisdom and repeat the blunder of Itami Castle.” “Hahaha. That is a lesson this one has learned more keenly than anyone. There is no need for concern this time—for Lord Shōgen Gotō and Komori Yosaemon, senior retainers, have already aligned their views with this one’s, and they themselves seek to save all the castle’s soldiers by sacrificing but a few.”

Kanbei’s words were filled with confidence.

Matabō Without a Castle

1

The next day, Kanbei went to the enemy’s Miki Castle as a military envoy.

The leg injury still hadn’t healed, so when walking, he dragged a severe limp. (This became a chronic ailment that left him disabled for life.)—Thus, he had Kuriyama Zensuke construct a lightweight military palanquin for his use. That day, he rode it on his mission into enemy territory. His military palanquin incorporated many of his own innovations. Conventional palanquins were excessively heavy and lacked agility. Moreover, the litters recently coming into use proved useless when encountering enemies. Thereupon, he devised a new-style military palanquin that blended elements of both traditional palanquins and litters.

For its construction materials, they used almost entirely bamboo. This was to reduce its weight. The upper covering roof was removed; only the boat-shaped seat was made deeper, allowing one to sink fully into it. And it was carried high like a portable shrine. Two carrying poles were used: two men at the front pole and four at the rear pole, totaling six men to carry it. With this design, the bearers could move about lightly and freely, while Kanbei, riding within, could remain seated and wield either a long-handled weapon or a sword. Its primary focus was enabling free engagement with enemies even when charging into the midst of chaotic battle.

"How does it look?" "Tahei." While being rocked atop [the palanquin] along the way, Kanbei looked back at Moribe and Kuriyama who were following behind.

“Throughout history, has there ever been a military commander who used such a vehicle on the battlefield? I suppose I shall be the pioneer.” “That’s correct. I doubt there has ever been such a case. During the Tengyō Rebellion of old, I’ve heard that an army unable to withstand Masakado’s ferocity carried a wooden statue of his uncle on a palanquin to the front lines and threatened to shoot arrows at his uncle, thereby routing Masakado—but...” “Kanbei is alive, you see. A wooden statue wouldn’t set a precedent here.”

“It is said that Zhuge Kongming, who wore a silk headscarf and wielded a feather fan as he commanded the three armies, rode a four-wheeled carriage across the battlefield.” “Kongming, I see. However, compared to Kongming’s four-wheeled carriage, this is more suitable for our country’s samurai. I’d like to charge through a chaotic battle just once.” “Could such a thing happen even today?” “No, no. Not today. This Kanbei has learned his lesson at Itami. I will never again employ such ill-conceived plans.”

Even before approaching Miki Castle, his tone suggested he was fully confident in fulfilling his mission. The purpose of the mission was self-evident: to have the person responsible for the prolonged siege commit seppuku and thereby save the thousands of lives in the entire castle that were now on the brink of starvation. That night, Kanbei met with Bessho Kosaburo, lord of Miki Castle. It was a room in the castle illuminated only by moonlight, without even a lamp. Lord Bessho Kosaburo, still a young commander at twenty-six years old, spoke plainly to Kanbei.

“As you see, there are no lamps because we’ve consumed all the candle oil.” “Not a mouse stirs within these walls.” “We’ve devoured every last one.”

After they exchanged various reminiscences, Kosaburo crisply pledged. “Originally, under Lord Chikuzen’s governance, we who once pledged alliance to the Oda clan only to later defect to the Mori side and have now endured two full years barricaded here—it is only natural that those responsible, starting with this one, should commit seppuku.” “However, if those outside our clan—the soldiers—are subjected to the disgrace of being treated as captives, they too would find no reason to live, and our seppuku would lose its meaning.” “If you not only spare the lives of those within this castle but also handle these matters with martial compassion and courtesy, I shall submit to your terms.”

“Lord Chikuzen is indeed most generous in such considerations, but this Kanbei will certainly make the necessary arrangements.” After that, Kanbei met with other clan members and elder retainers. Since those present included Gotō Motokuni and Komori Yosaemon—who had already reached a mutual understanding through unspoken communication—the discussions proceeded with remarkable smoothness. However, that three or four additional meetings were conducted after that day amounted to negotiations that could almost be called inevitable as the culmination for enemies and allies who had repeated their two-year-long offensive and defensive battles and persevered through hardships beyond words upon hardships.

II

The resolution carried over into the new year. And thus, the seppuku of Lord Bessho Kosaburo and his retainers, along with the castle’s surrender, was finally set for January 17th.

The day before, Hideyoshi donated three loads of sake barrels and a large quantity of food to the castle.

Kosaburo was delighted and, the following morning, sent a messenger to convey his gratitude as follows. “Last night, through your gracious benevolence, we gathered my wife and children, brothers, elder retainers, and even their wives and little ones in one hall. All shared fond memories of this life, announced tomorrow’s farewells, and cherished our remaining time to the fullest.” “Today at the Hour of the Monkey, Kosaburo and his men shall commit seppuku as sworn. We earnestly request your honored presence to bear witness.”

From Hideyoshi’s side, an inspection party was dispatched.

The castle interior had been scrubbed clean by many hands until not a speck of dust remained. As the appointed hour drew near, Lord Kosaburo dressed even his young wife and their nursing child in death robes, then gathered with his brother Hikonosuke and the rest of the clan in the great hall they had prepared as their final resting place. However, Bessho Gaō—one among them and indeed the very instigator who had brought about Miki Castle’s current fate—had vanished without a trace.

“I do not see my uncle here.” Kosaburo and those destined to die waited anxiously, but Gaō—who had left for reasons unknown—never returned. He was both the uncle who held greatest authority within their clan and the very one who had persuaded them, forced rebellion against Oda forces, cultivated ties with Mōri, and brought about this day of ruin. Try as he might to doubt it, Kosaburo could not fathom such base conduct occurring at this crucial hour.

But unfortunately, the very thing they had thought unthinkable had come to pass. Before long, a group of enraged retainers came storming into the grand corridor. They knelt down, all trembling with tears, placed the freshly severed head of Gaō they had just cut down before him, and apologized to Kosaburo on behalf of everyone. “Since this morning, we had observed Lord Gaō’s suspicious behavior. As feared, he had set fire beneath the keep—likely scheming to save his own life.” “Overcome by his unbearable cowardice, we took it upon ourselves to strike off his head. In atonement, we too shall now commit seppuku here to accompany him. We humbly beg your forgiveness.”

Some were choking back sobs, while others had already loosened their collars and were preparing to commit seppuku.

“Wait!” “Not a single one of you will be permitted to die as you please!”

Kosaburo rebuked and restrained them. “Consider why the Kosaburo clan gladly commits seppuku today.” “Make that joy—however small—greater for us.” “My uncle’s conduct has, alas, sullied the name of the Bessho clan with a single speck of mud. Should heaven witness this, heaven itself would mete out punishment; should earth learn of it, earth itself would rage.” “Though it was your hands that struck him down, it was done in my stead.” “Whether you call it a transgression or deem it a sin—”

As he spoke, Kosaburo stood up, walked out to the wide veranda, and quietly bowed toward the officers and soldiers prostrating themselves across the garden, lamenting their parting. “Together, for these two years, your efforts during this siege have been unprecedented.” “Even our battles fought by eating plant roots and licking the bones of wild rats and dead horses now seem nostalgic—they may truly be called the pride of warriors.” “As this castle’s commander, I ask you to forgive this Kosaburo’s inadequacy in departing without ever repaying your loyalty.” “After we have perished, you must support one another. Let each seek your futures, but never leave disgrace like my uncle Gaō. […] Take our fate today as your lesson—do not abandon the vows you once swore.” “Do not misjudge the course of these times.” “My downfall stems from my youth and lack of foresight.” “Let Kosaburo be your mirror!”

No sooner had he finished speaking and returned to his seat than he took up his short sword and cleanly cut open his belly.

His wife, her child, and his younger brother Hikonosuke also fell one after another into the crimson. The entire group—clan members such as Miyake Hizen, elder retainers including Gotō Shōgen Motokuni and Komori Yosaemon—all perished. Now, with no resentment—when I consider this body exchanged for all their lives, This was the death poem of Bessho Kosaburo Nagaharu. Moreover, his still-young wife left behind a death poem that read: To vanish together brings such joy—

In such times, it was not uncommon for women’s resolve to surpass that of men. Bessho Gaō’s wife was one who demonstrated such composure at this hour. She neither faltered nor cried out upon learning of her husband’s shameful demise. After witnessing the deaths of Kosaburo and his wife, she gathered her three young children—two boys and a girl—to her lap, covered their eyes with a mother’s hand to draw the blade across their throats, then turned it upon herself and pierced her own. And on the paper slip left beside them: In the world beyond, I shall not lose my way—

3

Hideyoshi sealed a letter that very day and entrusted it to an express courier. It went without saying that this urgently reported Miki Castle’s fall to Nobunaga. Having previously subjugated Araki and now reaped this battle’s fruits, Azuchi seethed with victory songs. The Nobunaga Chronicle recorded the situation thus: “The three Bessho heads were presented to Azuchi; all former enemies now lay wholly at His Lordship’s disposal, his august glory beyond reckoning. Moreover, that Lord Chikuzen [Hashiba Hideyoshi]—through personal resolve—subdued such formidable foes, whether by martial valor, strategic cunning, or upholding archery’s honor, surpassed all measure.”

However, the public eye did not necessarily view Nobunaga’s handling of Araki Murashige and Hideyoshi’s resolution of Miki Castle in the same light.

"When Lord Nobunaga himself crushed a place through conquest, the land was left so scorched that even trees and grass withered away. Yet when Lord Chikuzen took a stronghold, there remained something in the cold earth—something that let buds of trees and grass sprout forth." "What in the world was this difference?" From around that time, albeit vaguely, such observations had begun to take root somewhere within the public’s hearts.

Nevertheless, Hideyoshi’s status remained far inferior compared to generals such as Shibata, Niwa, and Takigawa. Yet since achieving this military success,

“Lord Chikuzen is indeed a man of consequence.”

Indeed, it was certain that even those senior retainers had somewhat revised their previous views of him. At the very least, it was evident that those who had derisively called him “Monkey” were gradually diminishing in number, shamed by their own words.

“I wish Hanbei Shigeharu could have seen this.” On the day he entered Miki Castle and inspected every corner, Hideyoshi remarked with deep feeling. Kanbei, too, had been recalling that very moment. In his heart, he was recalling the deceased and reporting today’s events to their spirit. “Indeed, given this stronghold’s defenses, it’s no wonder it didn’t fall easily.” “I could establish this as my stronghold and launch campaigns into Chūgoku.” “No, you mustn’t.” “Is that so?” “Precisely so. As a defensive position, it could indeed be called an unparalleled stronghold. However, with its inconvenient transportation and narrow confines hemmed in by four mountains, it cannot be considered a place for governance.”

“Quite right. In that respect, Miki Castle isn’t suitable for Hideyoshi to reside in.”

“My Himeji alone possesses every condition required to serve as your castle.” “But your family resides there, does it not?” “Have you forgotten? When I first went to Gifu, I promised before Lord Nobunaga that I would offer Himeji at any time as a foothold for the Chūgoku campaign.” “You’ll give it to me? Hmm... Himeji.”

“Its maritime routes are convenient, with Mount Shosha and Mount Zui at its back. The castle town’s rivers, the highways’ traffic flow—there are no deficiencies.” “Kanbei.” “Your hometown boasts—” “No, what I wish to boast of lies elsewhere entirely.”

“What? “That—” "My stern father. "A good wife. "Loyal retainers. “These together form our house’s traditions.” “Even if we move our residence, our house’s traditions will not disappear.” "As for housing my father Sōen and my wife and children, if we are granted but a single small fortification, that would be most sufficient." "I'll take it. —Then promptly return to Himeji and construct new castle compounds."

“Will you remain here until then?” “Once they finish plastering—even just the rough walls—I’ll move from this place to Himeji immediately. It should be done by March. Lord Chikuzen is impatient—hurry it up!”

“Then I shall depart at once.” A few days later, Kuroda Kanbei set out for Himeji. He was accompanied by a dozen or so retainers and had prepared both relay horses for the journey and that familiar military palanquin.

It had been a long time since he had returned home. Matsuchiyo had already been sent back, but for him, this was his first return home since the Itami incident.

Whether riding a horse or atop his military palanquin, he held an orphan before his knees. The boy had turned nine this year. Last year—before Miki Castle fell—Bessho’s senior retainer Gotō Shōgen Motokuni had secretly,

(There was no one but you to whom I could entrust this child’s future.) (When Miki Castle fell—I who was destined to perish with it—could not bear to take this innocent child to the afterlife. Though my worldly attachments may invite mockery, I beg you to place him among your retainers and raise him to adulthood.)

This was the sole child entrusted to him by the enemy commander. “Matabē, why are you spacing out like that?” “Are you lonely?” “N-no,” the boy shook his head—“It’s nothing.” Came the boy’s curt reply. However, to Kanbei—an adult—the eyes of this child, so uncommonly quiet for his age, could not help but appear lonesome. “Think of me as your father.” “The late Motokuni asked me to take his place as your parent.” “Do you think of me as your father?”

“N-no,” Matabē shook his head. “You don’t think of me that way?” “Y-yes,” he nodded and fidgeted. It seemed cramped for him to be sitting on Kanbei’s lap. “If you go to Himeji, there will be someone who can become your friend.” Kanbei tried saying such things, but Matabē was not pleased. Then, finally understanding his feelings, Kanbei entrusted him this time to the care of Morita Tahei and Kuriyama Zensuke’s group. When he added him to the procession and let him walk freely, Matabē suddenly grew energetic and began frolicking so vigorously it was startling—playing pranks on horse tails and such.

“Ha ha ha. Children after all cannot be kept in a military palanquin.” Kanbei found his spirits lifting instead.

That this lone orphan, nurtured within the traditions of the Kuroda household, would grow into a man later known to the world as Gotō Matabei Keiji—at this time, not even the faintest hue of that sprout could be seen in anyone’s eyes.

A single straw sandal / A single geta

I

They had known of his return in advance—his wife, his children, and his retainers all stood lined up at Himeyama Gate, waiting for him. Kuroda Kanbei's procession approached. From the moment his face became visible, the children smiled, his wife welcomed him with tears, and the faces of the household members burned with emotion.

“I’m back! Did you all come to welcome me—” Halting his horse, Kuroda Kanbei called out in his ever-cheerful voice to the assembled group from horseback. Then—awkwardly bracing one foot in the stirrup—he nimbly dismounted. “Ah. What of your other foot?”

The retainers widened their eyes. The majority of those who had stayed behind still did not know that he had become so disabled. To his wife—who had once deeply resigned herself to receiving nothing but his hair and nails as remnants—even the sight of her husband limping along with his left shoulder heavily slumped appeared only as a testament to his miraculous survival. “Matsuchiyo. Go to his side and take Father’s hand instead of a cane.”

His wife urged their child forward, entrusting him with her wish to approach. Matsuchiyo ran up. “Father.” “Your hand.” Then Kanbei let out a dry laugh and looked around at the child, his wife, and those nearby.

“Now, now. “It’s not that bad. “Even like this, I mean to charge through a thousand armies and ten thousand horses for decades yet—if I let my child lead me by the hand now, that would never do. “True, I may look awkward shuffling along like this, but it’s hardly worth watching from the sidelines. “Walking with one shoulder slumped makes the going easier—I’ve abandoned pretense for practicality, so spare your worries.” Then he turned to face the group of attendants behind him,

“Where’s Matabē? Matabē, aren’t you here?” he called out, beckoning.

“Yes!”—Urged by the others, Matabē answered and nimbly came over. Kanbei placed one hand on the boy’s head and another on Matsuchiyo’s, then turned to his wife and said— “This child is the son of an enemy general I found during the siege of Miki Castle.” “Even an enemy general’s child is not a coward’s offspring.” “He has inherited good blood.” “In time, he will make a fine samurai.” “He might be a bit too rough around the edges to be Matsuchiyo’s friend, but raise him well.”

And then, as soon as he entered the mansion, “How is Father?” he asked about his elderly father’s condition. Upon hearing that though Sōen had been bedridden with a slight ailment until yesterday, today he had left his sickbed and been waiting since morning, “I see, I see.” Without even removing his travel attire, Kuroda Kanbei suddenly hurried off and walked toward the main enclosure where his elderly father Sōen was.

II

The major reconstruction of Himeji Castle began as early as February, mere days after Kanbei’s return. From Hideyoshi’s side as well came Asano Yahyōe as magistrate. He also dispatched numerous workers to assist. Originally, this Himeyama Castle had simply been built by Kuroda Sōen as a residence; later, as his clan’s fortunes rose, it became a fortress where allied families gathered. From the viewpoint of contemporary castle-building strategies, its value lay not in renovation but in requiring complete reconstruction.

And so, the old hall was completely destroyed. The lines of new stone walls rose high and splendidly as they were constructed, while the sounds of chisels and hatchets at the site where the main keep would stand resounded through the towering log scaffolding, announcing to this land the dawn of a new era. Yet construction was construction and battle was battle—even amidst this, the campaign in the Chūgoku region centered on Hideyoshi did not pause for an instant. In February, Kuroda Kanbei conspired with Hideyoshi, dispatched envoys to the Kojima region, met with Ukita Naoie of Okayama, jointly devised strategies, had multiple fortresses built along the border with the Mōri clan to secure the frontier, and returned after persuading the Takabatake clan—a local power in Kojima—to ally with them.

Upon returning, he inspected the construction, then went out again to join Hideyoshi’s forces in attacking Mitsuaki Miki of Haga Castle, capturing Masayori Uno of Nagamizu Mountain, and subduing Sukekiyo Uno of Yamazaki Castle as well. In June, these mopping-up battles reached their first temporary halt. Pacification was achieved across the two provinces of Harima and Tajima. Himeji Castle was nearly completed. Hideyoshi left his younger brother Hashiba Hidenaga at Miki Castle, moved the rest of his entire army, and thereafter established the new Himeji Castle as their base.

Sōen—Kanbei’s father and the pioneer of this mountain—seemed to harbor an inescapable nostalgia in his recollections. He had remained in one building of the old hall until the very end, but as Hideyoshi was finally moving in, he relocated to Gochaku Castle together with Kanbei’s wife, children, and family members.

Since this spring, Gochaku Castle had stood vacant. For despite all that Kanbei had done—Kodera Masashige and the elders who had resided there since the Akamatsu clan era as the main house of the Kuroda family— (Thus does the age take shape!)

Despite all their loyal admonishments and personal sacrifices in striving to prevent this main house from straying, they sold out Kanbei to Araki Murashige, colluded with Murashige to once again change their loyalties, rebel against Nobunaga, and expose all their reckless behavior and disgrace to the world.

However, in an instant, Murashige was destroyed, the relied-upon Miki Castle fell, and just as they were becoming aware of the crisis at their feet— (Kanbei had returned to Himeyama.) When word spread that [Kanbei had returned to Himeyama], Kodera Masashige—who from the start lacked any real power or conviction—along with his old retainers who had barely survived thus far through deceit and opportunistic pretenses, were thrown into terror. The main house was the main house, and they were they—abandoning Gochaku overnight, they all fled to scattered regions of their own choosing.

“Moving into the castle of our scattered former lord weighs heavily on my heart, but…” Though Sōen seemed reluctant, he ultimately had no choice but to move there after being consoled by Kanbei, who told him, “Please endure this for a time.”

Early July. Without even a moment to relax in the new castle, Hideyoshi immediately advanced his army and launched campaigns along the borders of Inaba and Hōki provinces. Hideyoshi’s days and nights remained thoroughly active. His ceaseless activity and intellect always marched ahead of the calendar. Having concluded matters in this area, Hideyoshi returned to Himeji when September had arrived. Seated in the new castle where fresh wood scents and vibrant paintings surrounded him, Hideyoshi spoke these words for the first time:

“Where have you had your elderly father and wife and children reside now?” “Since I was granted Gochaku, I had them move to Gochaku.”

“Ah, that’s right.” “Gochaku is also an old castle and, I hear, a very small one.” “What a pity to leave such fine land behind.” Hideyoshi awarded Kanbei a letter of commendation accompanied by an inventory. This was something Hideyoshi had requested from Nobunaga and obtained his approval for. In Harima Province, a fief of 10,000 koku was granted. Such was Nobunaga’s written authorization. The inventory specified the land divisions within Fukui, Iwami, and Ise Village of Ibo District— “I am deeply honored.”

It was not modesty. It was genuine joy. He had been added to the ranks of daimyo for the first time. From the age of sixteen, he had served the Kodera family, his initial stipend being forty koku. Even after passing twenty years of age and serving as a rare young chief retainer, his stipend still had not exceeded several hundred koku. Looking back over these twenty-one years since then, the hardships endured, the trials beyond life and death, and the fierce struggles defied description. That all four limbs remained intact among his five bodily parts was nothing short of miraculous. Warriors of the Sengoku era all met with storms and winds, easily perceived by later generations as fortunate children who rose to prominence—yet even in this age, life’s path to becoming a daimyo remained arduous. In any case, Kanbei felt genuine joy. There could be no doubt he had dashed off to Gochaku, where his elderly father resided, clutching that inventory and letter of commendation. He was already over thirty, a fearsome general on the battlefield renowned for his cunning strategies, but at home, he remained a child who still had a hale parent.

III

From that winter through the following New Year, he was not in attendance either by his parent’s side or in Himeji. He was making an unusual private journey. Was it an inspection of internal governance or an investigation of enemy conditions? That alone did not seem to be the case. He persistently— “Where is our former lord, Lord Kodera Masashige, residing now?” —had been searching through various provinces, following every connection he knew. After fleeing Gochaku, they had only managed to learn that Kodera Masashige had taken refuge in Bingo Province. However, the human kindness encountered during his wandering exile differed from what Masashige had expected from old acquaintances. Eventually, even the few attendants he had brought with him all left, and it became known that he had fallen ill in Tomo Port and soon passed away there.

“Even so, Lord Ujimasa’s son and his wife must still be alive.” Kanbei returned once to obtain Hideyoshi’s approval, then personally set out for Tomo Port. Yet even when he went to Tomo, he could not easily discover their whereabouts. No matter how far they had fallen from grace, he had assumed those who were once castle lords would still maintain a household with three or four young retainers and servants. But when he finally reached the residence he had managed to locate—a wretched back-alley tenement—he found a transformed Ujimasa engaged in handicraft work, while Masashige’s wife carried Ujimasa’s child on her back and washed the infant’s swaddling clothes herself. Such was their state.

“Kanbei… I have no face to meet your forgiveness,” they both said. When Ujimasa and Masashige’s wife encountered his sudden visit, they apologized and wept as though wishing to vanish into the earth. Kanbei too was utterly disheartened. Once one missteps, he realized with astonishment, both a person’s dignity and a house’s standing could plummet so precipitously—such was society’s merciless nature. “In any case,” Kanbei urged, “please return to your domain with this one. There is absolutely, absolutely no need to fear any harm coming to you.”

Kuroda Kanbei ordered his retainers to prepare everything and, taking along the former lord’s wife, surviving heir, and even the grandchild, returned to Gochaku. And through Hideyoshi to Nobunaga, "I humbly beseech you to set aside your wrath and graciously permit the surviving heir of the Kodera family to succeed to its headship." He repeatedly petitioned, but Nobunaga would not allow it under any circumstances. Hideyoshi, too, showed little enthusiasm regarding this matter alone. For they were then in the midst of dismantling old local warlord clans, both great and small, throughout the land. Particularly as Kodera Masashige’s single act of betrayal had been too egregious, and they deemed it politically inadvisable to permit the restoration of his family’s name.

However, Kanbei, remembering past favors, did not abandon Ujimasa and his family. He allocated a portion of the fief he had received to provide them with stipends, thereafter treating them as honored guests of the Kuroda family without diminishing their status and supporting their descendants through generations—a practice that continued not only through Kanbei’s lifetime but extended all the way to the Meiji Restoration. That year, he was granted an additional 10,000 koku and given Yamazaki Castle as well. Kanbei promptly had his elderly father Sōen take up residence there. Sōen also rejoiced, remarking that for the first time, he felt he had obtained a home for his remaining years.

Simultaneously, to commemorate this occasion, he newly established military standards and horse blinds symbolizing the Kuroda family. For the emblem on their military standards, he had the Eiraku Tsuuhō coin outlined in white against a black ground. Moreover, while their traditional family crest had been Tachibana, he changed it to Fuji Tomoe.

On the day when the Military Standard Ceremony was conducted before the shrine within Yamazaki Castle, Hideyoshi made a special visit and,

“Magnificent, magnificent! Kanbei remains in his prime, and Hideyoshi too stays vigorous in his prime. How these banners will cleave through enemy after enemy and advance—it shall be a spectacle to witness throughout Kanbei’s lifetime.” After offering these celebratory words, during the subsequent banquet feast, he inquired with a puzzled air: “They say family crests are seldom changed—what moved you to adopt Fuji Tomoe?” Kanbei set down his wine cup. That night marked the first time he recounted to Hideyoshi his year of suffering within Itami Castle’s walls—or so chroniclers record. His gaze then turned toward the retainers seated nearby—Morita Tahee, Kuriyama Zensuke, and others—

“To never forget these retainers’ loyalty, and for myself—as there is a saying that ‘once past the throat, one forgets the heat’—I resolved that whenever pride arises in my heart, I would immediately recall Itami’s prison window. For those wisteria blossoms I daily gazed upon through those bars—they became both my lifelong teacher and our house’s auspicious emblem.” he answered.

Let us once again count his age on our fingers here. At that time, in the ninth year of Tenshō, he was thirty-six years old.