Pathway to Japanese Literature

Beehive

Chapter I Bees streamed into the shadows beneath the Drum Tower's ridgepole as if drawn inward; others whirred out with abrupt buzzes. The drum here had clearly weathered many years. This was evident in how every single rivet stood rusted crimson. Even the four great pillars had eroded, their wood grain exposed like the gnarled sinews of an aged warrior's limbs. Beyond doubt, this structure had been raised alongside Gochaku Castle itself.

"...Ah—a beehive?"

Kanbei awoke. The moment he did, he struck his own collar hard and looked up at the space beneath the eaves with bloodshot eyes. He had not slept since last night. He had not been able to steal even a moment of sleep. There, having retreated alone since earlier, he had been dozing in a pleasant state of mind, his back still leaned against a pillar beneath the tower. It couldn’t be seen from the main keep, and the summer sunlight was nicely blocked by the surrounding green leaves. Moreover, within the castle grounds, this spot stood at the highest elevation—the gentle breeze blowing down from the spine of the Chūgoku Mountains played with his sideburns and rustled through his robes, making it indeed a perfect place to steal a moment’s nap.

“This won’t do—I’ve been stung quite badly.” “…Even bees conspire against my rest.” Kanbei offered a solitary wry smile and continued rubbing his collar and eyelids with vigor.

As a result, the time he had slept was but a brief moment; nevertheless, as he let out a large yawn, the fatigue from the night was washed clean from his head. And he secretly resolved that tonight, too, he would have to stay awake and persevere. However, he did not readily rise from there. With his hakama-clad knees drawn up, he leaned against a pillar and gazed blankly up at the rafters. Centered around the beehive, it seemed a war was being waged even in the world of bees. Scout bees would go out, and assaulting ones were repelled. Kanbei wore a look of unflagging interest. But in his mind, he might have been contemplating something entirely different.

Before long, two retainers came up. They were the two samurai squad leaders: Muroki Saihachi and Imazu Gendayu. When they discovered Kanbei’s figure there, both men voiced their astonishment. “Oh, so our Chief Retainer has deigned to come to such a place?” “Why, over there, it’s been utter chaos.” “Some insist you must have returned to Himeji in a fit of rage, while others argue, ‘No—a man of your standing would never be so discourteous as to depart without My Lord’s permission. He must still be somewhere,’ so they’ve been scouring every corner and even sent men beyond the castle walls…”

“Ha ha ha. Is that so? You were searching that hard for me?” Kanbei’s expression remained utterly detached. Rather than such matters, the eyelids bitten by bees seemed more pressing, and he kept scratching between his eyebrows and eyes with the pad of his finger.

II

In every castle across the land, there was invariably a council chamber. However, examples of truly great strategies—strategies worthy of the name—being born from those council chambers proved exceedingly rare. Most became swept up in formalities; many played with theories; or else thoughtlessly conformed to resolutions they didn’t truly believe in—and ultimately declared adjournment once a semblance of timing was reached.

They say three people together have the wisdom of Monju—but that holds true only when ones of substance gather; a hundred zeros assembled remain naught but zero. A thousand eyes blind to the era’s course could never pierce the coming age—yet when seated in council, not one among them wore a face that confessed: (I am blind.) Having neither conviction nor singular insight, they cloaked themselves in sophistry and silver tongues. Thus councils swelled with pompous ceremony—tangled in digressions and trifles—until after countless sessions no truth emerged from their ranks and matters languished unresolved eternally.

“Enough! Though we’ve deliberated since last night, hearing your stances reveals not an inch gained from where we began at dusk yesterday… Let us instead summon Kanbei to this seat once more and thoroughly examine his views. This concerns no trifling matter—the very survival of Gochaku Castle hangs in the balance! Even those nursing grudges against Kanbei must cast aside petty grievances and discord to deliberate as one—or we court ruin.”

Lord Kodera Masataka finally declared this in a tone akin to a prolonged sigh, addressing the assembled retainers from his elevated position.

Thus, for a moment, the opportunistic passive arguments, the peripheral opinions, and the clashing of self-serving wills all seemed to have quieted—when suddenly, “Ah, as for Lord Kanbei, even now we search for where he might have gone.” “For none other than the council seat—the Chief Retainer himself to secretly absent himself—is utterly inexcusable.” “That man appears to have not a shred of loyalty in his heart—no concern for the clan’s fate nor care for Your Lordship’s future.” “He seems to be a man whose sole talent lies in blowing empty boasts.”

When Sue Yoshichika, one of the senior officials, berated him, the veteran retainers seated in the upper positions of the row—Kuramitsu Masatoshi, Murai Kawachi, Masuda Magouemon, and others—also began to speak in unison. “He may be a smooth talker by nature, but he’s a shallow samurai at heart.” “Such discourtesy was inevitable.” “Your usual insolence might be overlooked, but what exactly do you take this council for?” “In that case, demanding loyalty—or any such virtue—from Lord Kanbei would be futile.” “Unlike us hereditary retainers, he remains merely a vassal whose family first pledged allegiance to your esteemed house as recently as his father’s generation.”

“Now that you mention it, he was originally the son of an eye-medicine peddler.” “Perhaps our very deference to him as Chief Retainer may instead prove burdensome to the man himself.”

Leaving their lord aside, they exchanged whispers loud enough to be heard. For the young warriors in the lower seats—those who held some goodwill toward Kanbei and supported his argument—this was an unpleasant affair. And then, as if unable to endure it any longer, a young voice from those seats spoke up,

“I beg your pardon for interrupting the elders, but this is also My Lord’s command. In any case, let us wait until Lord Kanbei appears, thoroughly scrutinize his opinion once more, and then—whether we seek My Lord’s judgment or refute it—all would be well. But this is not my place to say; you all should refrain from such excessive backbiting here.” There was one who, though mindful of their own station, mustered the courage to admonish them.

Lord Kodera Masataka, (That’s right—well spoken.)

With a gaze that fell short of gratitude, he looked toward the lower seats. He was not one who could view himself with such gravity as a lord. He was by no means an incompetent ruler, and indeed possessed the education befitting a lord of a regional clan, but he sorely lacked what was needed to command his family and retainers in this generation. It was the keen insight to observe the grand currents of the present and their driving forces of dissolution and reconstruction. And it was a conviction that did not waver even amidst such turbulence. He lacked that.

Admittedly, it could be said that expecting such foresight from a provincial castle lord in Harima—one ruling over a mere few remote districts—was unreasonable. Now, the movements of this era—the third year of Tenshō—were too violent and too vast. A man adrift in boundless waters

一

It will work out somehow. In time, things will sort themselves out.

Masataka had relied on the tides of the era for precisely that alone. But the inevitable day finally came.

The people in the council chamber—who still harbored the unresolved anguish and exhaustion from last night like stagnant water in an ancient pond—certainly bore half the responsibility. No—the downfall of their lord’s house would mean their own destruction as well. It was undeniable that a crisis permitting no reliance on tomorrow had now descended upon each of them.

The problem was—

“At this juncture, how should the Kodera clan determine its allegiance?” That was the problem. When viewed as divided into two, “Should we continue steadfastly with the Mōri clan henceforth? Or should we ally with Oda Nobunaga’s new force?” Thus were they split into these two arguments.

Moreover, even at this critical juncture, there were still those old-guard conservative senior retainers clinging obstinately to outdated ways—those who insisted: “Without declaring allegiance to either side, maintain the appearance of unwavering loyalty to the Mōri clan as before. Should Oda forces invade, devise appropriate countermeasures when the time comes.” Yet even through Masataka’s eyes—so out of step with the currents of the age—it was all too clear that such petty schemes and superficial fixes would never satisfy even the Mōri clan.

For already since the day before yesterday, envoys from Mōri Terumoto had been lodging at a temple in the castle town,

“Consent?” “Refusal?” [They] were waiting for an answer. The message contained an explicit threat: should Kodera consent, they must send a hostage anew to Yoshida Castle in Aki Province; if refused, that too was acceptable—they would never again dispatch envoys to this Harima Province. Together with this verbal ultimatum, they had formally presented Terumoto’s written demand into Kodera Masataka’s hands.

Aghast and pale-faced as though the crisis had just erupted, Lord Masataka had since last night hastily convened his clan and chief retainers. "What should we do?"

he had posed [the question] to his people. The individuals who had received the inquiry also burned with confusion on their faces, like a house with its eaves ablaze, while— “If Nobunaga turns his army toward Chūgoku, the first to be crushed will be our front lines here.” “Moreover, he who has even defeated the Imagawa and Takeda clans and driven out the shogunate forces in Kyoto.” “He cannot be underestimated in the slightest.”

There were those who held such views, while others flatly denied them, “Even if Oda’s forces come in any number, the Mōri’s influence spans twelve provinces from Aki and Suō to San’in and San’yō.” “In the Seto Inland Sea, they command the naval forces of the Murakami and Kishima clans, maintain a firm alliance with Osaka’s Honganji adherents, and have no shortage of covert allies in Settsu and elsewhere.” “How could the firm foundation laid since Lord Motonari’s time ever waver?” “Moreover, this castle has governed this region as vassals of the Mōri clan since time immemorial—a house of such lineage.” “What is there to hesitate about?” “Just send any hostage or written oath, and in exchange, request their military support.”

This was clearly the words of those who ignored the surrounding circumstances and relied solely on the might of the Mōri clan. If the current crisis could be navigated through such means, even Masataka would have had no objection to doing so from the outset. But the actual circumstances were neither so naively manageable nor so simple. Moreover, some of those advocating that theory tended to underestimate Nobunaga's ascendant force.

As evidence of this, they spoke of the Oda army’s westward advance with “if” and “even if they come,” but the clash between Oda and Mōri had now become inevitable—an atmosphere pressing upon them as though it might arrive tomorrow. By no means— By no means was this a lukewarm situation where one might say, “Perhaps…”

II

In the third year of Tenshō (1575), just last month at the beginning of May, Nobunaga departed Gifu, joined forces with Tokugawa Ieyasu, crushed the elite forces of Takeda Katsuyori of Kōyama at Nagashino, and triumphantly returned to Gifu. His military forces were like a whirlwind without fixed direction. No sooner had he clashed with the Uesugi forces in Hokuriku yesterday than he crushed an uprising in Ise, then turned to annihilate the Asai in Ōmi, pivoted to destroy the Asakura, and finally set ablaze Mount Hiei—a whirlwind-like speed and thunderous force. And he thoroughly uprooted even the shogunate forces in Kyoto—that cancerous tumor dating back to Ashikaga Takauji’s founding of the shogunate—driving them out completely.

“Gifu is far.” To entertain such thoughts would be the root of a grave miscalculation. Do not fight the branches; tear out the root. This too was one of the tactics observed in Nobunaga’s battles. For years past, he had not doused the source of the flames but instead directed his forces solely toward where the shadows cast by the flames fell, until he was nearly exhausted from his relentless campaigns. The religious uprisings that rose in Ise, Ōmi, Hokuriku, and various provinces to torment him were indeed those. Nor could one deny that the remnants of the Imagawa, Saitō, Asakura, Sasaki, Rokkaku, and Asai clans—all destroyed by him—and the rebellions across the land manipulated by the exiled Shogun Yoshiaki were of the same nature.

Then where indeed lay the true source of flames opposing Nobunaga—not these mere shadows cast by fire? He, the astute one, already knew its location by now. Was it Ishiyama Honganji in Osaka—with its vast congregation, wealth, and even military might? But even that Honganji—with only its temple’s ecclesiastical power—could not have opposed Nobunaga for years on end nor undermined his unification’s very foundations. While one must acknowledge the Honganji adherents’ tenacious resistance, it was indeed they who—behind them—vigorously supplied them materially and spiritually via land and sea routes: none other than Nobunaga—

"(Someday—without fail)," he had fixed his glare upon it in his mind. That could be none other than the Mōri clan, wielding the wealth and martial strength of twelve provinces across San’in and San’yō. On the surface, Oda and Mōri had yet to enter open war, but it was no exaggeration to say their shadow conflict had raged for years. From Settsu through San’yō, they clashed on every front save bloodshed—co-opting warlords, seizing supplies, trading spies, spreading rumors through travelers. Diplomatic ties between them had long been severed, their checkpoints fortified with naval thoroughness.

In particular, it seemed every possible means had been exhausted in whittling down the many petty castle lords and local warlords—who could be considered minor states caught between the two powers—as a preliminary skirmish before the main battle. Even a single warlord caught in this turmoil could not easily ascertain his immediate neighbor’s true intentions—whether that neighboring warlord sided with Mōri or Oda, or even discern the leanings of a small castle separated by nothing more than a river—for the situation had reached such a pass that superficial movements alone offered little clue to reality.

For instance, though a major domain, even the Ukita family—immediate neighbors to Gochaku Castle in Harima Province—were currently viewed as Mōri allies, but whether this alignment would remain unchanged appeared highly doubtful based on intelligence from spies. Thus, the more one surveyed the area, the clearer it became that the lords of this region were utterly lost in their allegiances—this was, without question, the true state of affairs. It was not only Gochaku Castle and Kodera Masataka who were in disarray.

III

“That is precisely why I have been saying it since long ago—is it not?” “What say you?”

Kuroda Kanbei—the young chief retainer who had just turned thirty years old (at the time, he adopted his lord’s surname and was known as Kodera, but to avoid confusion, his original surname is used here)—alone had maintained an air of utter detachment since the previous evening, even while seated among them. When addressed by name by Masataka, “Kanbei’s opinion—” even when asked,

“I have nothing new to state beyond what I have consistently advised.”

was the only answer he gave. And then, grinning silently, he listened to their every word. Then he turned piercing eyes to stare at the face of whoever spat out their speech.

“This will get us nowhere.” Around dawn, he suggested his lord Masataka retire for the night, but elder retainer Kuramitsu Masatoshi glared sharply— “What do you mean by suggesting His Lordship sleep before this council reaches any resolution?” “Do you still presume to fulfill your duty as advisor?” Having been harshly rebuked, Kanbei obediently said “Yes” and bowed his head.

Before anyone realized, he had vanished. Since others had taken turns leaving for breakfast and returning to their seats, it was assumed he too had risen for that purpose—but as the sun climbed high and noon approached without his return, those who began to doubt his whereabouts emerged. But only Masataka, who had after all been the one to appoint the young man as chief retainer, understood him well. He did not seem to entertain in the least the suspicions that the other retainers harbored.

“Ah, everyone.” “We’ve finally located our chief retainer.”

At that moment, the two samurai squad leaders—Muroki Saihachi and Imazu Gendayu—returned to the edge of the lower seats and announced brightly to those assembled in the chamber. Yet the expressions of all present—from the elder retainers downward—who turned their eyes toward that voice were anything but lighthearted. The twitching of several white eyebrows only deepened the furrows upon those brows. “What? He was there?” “Where has he been all this time?”

He deliberately pressed the matter harshly. Saihachi and Gendayu exchanged glances and began to speak evasively, but as though resigned to inevitability,

“He was atop the Drum Tower.” They answered frankly. The elder retainer pressed on: “What? He was in the Drum Tower—with whom?” “Alone.” “So. For what purpose?” “It seemed he intended to sleep.”

“Disgraceful.” “Good grief. This defies all description.” “And Lord Kanbei—what of him?” “Is he saying he cannot even come here now?”

“No. It seems that while napping, he was stung on the eyelid by a bee. He said he would return to his seat after washing his face and applying some ointment.”

“………”

No one remained to voice either appalled shock or condemnatory outrage.

Ritual purification.

I

Beside the bathhouse entrance, water from the bamboo pipe overflowed ceaselessly. There, splashing water about as messily as a magpie while scrubbing his face vigorously, was Kanbei. “Towel. Towel.”

Dropping droplets from the tip of his chin, he turned around and called out—whereupon the young monk, who had just placed the used razor on a tray and been walking toward the corner shelf in the changing room, hurriedly ran back and presented a towel before him.

Thereupon, Muroki Saihachi once again appeared beyond the bridge corridor, “Chief Retainer. “I beg you to come quickly. “The council deliberations drag on endlessly—nothing but slanderous tongues and quarrels with no resolution in sight. “My Lord too seems to stake all on Your Lordship’s counsel alone and waits most impatiently for your presence.”

“I’ll be there shortly.” “I’ll be there.” Kanbei sat on the wooden floor, facing the young monk, and had him apply ointment to the severely swollen left eyelid. It was the mark from being stung by a bee in the Drum Tower earlier.

“There, there,” he comforted the young monk, then slowly rose and crossed the bridge corridor. And after circling along the veranda several times, he finally returned to the Council Chamber.

Being distant from the sun, even a summer day was cool, but the interior stood hollow and dimly lit. The lethargy and confusion lingering since last night had thickened into a stifling miasma. And now that arguments had run their course, the elder retainers and those beneath them—who until moments ago had done nothing but heap slander upon Kanbei—abruptly fell silent, deliberately keeping their eyes still and resolutely ignoring even the sight of Kanbei taking his seat.

二 Toward the lord’s seat, Kanbei bowed once. Then, pressing his palm against the swelling on his eyelid, he seemed preoccupied with the heat emanating from it. The people—beginning with those in the elder retainers’ seats across the room—fixed their eyes in unison and directed a spiteful silence toward Kanbei’s person for some time, but since Kanbei too remained composed and resolutely silent, even Ogawa Mikawanokami of their lord Kodera Masataka’s family finally spoke up with a countenance suggesting he could no longer contain his indignation.

“Lord Kanbei.” “Where have you been absenting yourself for so long, abandoning this crucial council?”

“Hah. Are you referring to me?” “There is no other samurai here with such poor decorum.” “I did take rest, but I do not consider it poor decorum.” “Who was it that went up to the Drum Tower and took a leisurely nap?!” “To cleanse the weariness of the mind, I maintain that sleep is paramount.” “Since I could not very well nap before you, I was merely resting both mind and body for a brief moment.” “And I believed that too was for the sake of the clan.” “Chief Retainer.”

This time Kuramitsu Masatoshi, though elderly, joined in sharply from the side with his rebuke. “Ah, esteemed elder—” Kanbei pivoted slightly toward him. “What business have you here?” he countered with an air of defiance. Masatoshi’s face flushed crimson, his white eyebrows suddenly standing out starkly.

“You are still young, so until now I have kept silent.” “At barely thirty years old, occupying the office of Chief Retainer, it’s no wonder you’ve grown arrogant.” “……That is precisely why.” “Today is no ordinary occasion.” “The rise or fall of our clan hinges on this very council—whether we align with the East or the West will be decided by this single deliberation—mark my words.” “As you say.” “And yet, what…” Kuramitsu Masatoshi pointed a trembling finger at Kanbei’s face while scooting his knees forward.

“That face… What manner of face is this?” “What of this countenance?” “Does it displease you?” “You there—when did you shave your beard?”

“Just now. At the bathhouse.” “At dawn, by My Lord’s benevolence, there was gracious command that exhausted men might sleep—thus while we might overlook your rest, what manner of judgment leads you to shave your beard, wash your face, and preen yourself so extravagantly? To call it excessive—how utterly heartless!” “No, it was not merely my face. I have gargled and purified my limbs as well.” “What?!”

“Are you not acquainted with the practice of purification?” “I fail to grasp how undertaking purification with due reverence could be deemed improper.” “Do not resort to sophistry!” This time, the secondary retainers—Murai Kawachi, Masuda Magouemon, Eda Zenbee, and others—hissed in unison, their verbal blades aligned as if to strike. “What manner of purification do you speak of?!” “What purpose necessitated such purification?!” “Preposterous!” Seizing upon this—both the front row and lower-ranking samurai—they pressed their palms to the floorboards in unison toward their lord Masataka,

“To consult such an unreliable young Chief Retainer on this critical matter would be not merely futile but gravely dangerous, Your Lordship. We beseech Your Lordship to hesitate no longer—resolve your heart! For allying with the Mōri house as in times past is indeed what shall secure our clan’s peace and stability. Without delay, dispatch a messenger to the castle town’s embassy and deign to deliver your response on this matter.—We retainers all humbly beseech Your Lordship thus.”

they declared in unison. To side with the West? To side with the East? Masataka’s complexion—that of a man caught in ceaseless vacillation—was once more ensnared by their collective words. He nearly moved to act with a “Then—” Just as he was about to…

“No—this is unacceptable!” “I absolutely oppose this course!” “To side with the Mōri Faction would be no different from courting our own ruin!” “And it defies the very foundations of the warrior’s code!”

And then Kanbei suddenly said in a voice so loud it seemed to pierce the ceiling, “What?!” In an instant, the council session—forgetting even their lord’s presence—plunged into murderous clamor and chaos. From among the samurai who, backed by some relatives of the main family and old retainers, exclusively favored the Mōri faction—five or six men abruptly sprang to their feet, “Even if he is the Chief Retainer, we cannot allow him to live any longer.” for they had come brandishing their swords as a threat.

Three “Be seated.” With only those words, Kanbei did not move to sit. His heavy brows tinged with what seemed a hint of anger as he merely rebuked the men who were about to leap at him. “Restrain yourselves! Will you not sit down?” Kodera Masataka also sternly rebuked them. Having confirmed that the five or six men in the lower seats—still seething—had bitten their lips and returned to their positions, Kanbei at last straightened his posture. The discussion returned to him, his tone and demeanor unchanged as ever.

“In truth, I had already earnestly conveyed my convictions to Your Lordship’s heart during ordinary days before this situation arose.” “Therefore, even now that it has come to council deliberations, there remains no need for me to reiterate the matter to Your Lordship.” “However, I believe this council convened since last night has been held under the imperative for unanimous accord among all—lest our household split into two factions, some supporting Mōri or rather allying with Oda, which would invite dire ruin.” “Yet to each of you—”

“Shut up!” “That’s your scheme!” “We who are concerned for the clan will not be poisoned by that plot—and thus dare not blindly follow your Oda proposal!” “Allow me to speak for a moment,” he now said courteously, placating the old retainers’ words— “My Lord has already sworn before the gods and bestowed upon me a pledge: that the Kodera family’s allegiance shall be entrusted to my beliefs.” “……?”

With eyes filled with stunned disbelief, the retainers turned toward their lord Masataka. Whether lie or truth, Masataka offered no denial. Kanbei too cast a fleeting glance at his lord’s face—eyes that seemed to pierce through him like blades. “To foresee crises before they erupt and stand unwavering when they arrive; to daily offer loyal counsel to one’s liege and dare remonstration when error arises—this is a retainer’s duty, and above all, the Chief Retainer’s charge.” “I bear no shameful intent.” “Were I scheming conspiracy, I would not proclaim it before this assembly.” “Lord Ogawa, Lord Kuramitsu, and all present—set your minds at ease on that score and grant me your attention.”

“What do you mean by ‘listen’?” “My principles.” “Isn’t it already clear that your argument clings solely to Oda? I heard it last night, and I heard it again at dawn. If you persist in repeating yourself so tediously, people will come to regard you as an Oda agent.” “Slander against my person is something Kanbei does not mind in the slightest. Moreover, even if I were to be killed here, I would never alter the convictions I have held day after day. Indeed, last night and again this morning, I have repeatedly expressed fragments of my convictions, yet each time I speak, you all oppose me.” The council chamber was in uproar, generating nothing but fruitless disputes that yielded no result whatsoever—thus he had taken a recess to catch his breath. “Moreover, the reason I performed ritual purification before returning to this council is that I resolved to solemnly present matters which should not be spoken of lightly—declaring them now as my final words. Therefore, even for you esteemed listeners, such an unprepared state would be 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, leaving no room for reproach. To his lord Kodera Masataka, something seemed to strike an immediate chord—upon hearing this, he pushed his cushion aside and likewise straightened his posture. Seeing their lord’s bearing, even the clan elders could no longer cling to their obstinacy. They hurriedly corrected their kneeling positions and adjusted their collars. Even within the household of a provincial lord who never strayed beyond a corner of Harima Province, only the exacting customs of the Muromachi shogunate’s age-old rituals had taken root. When they aligned their postures with solemnity, they all truly appeared to be samurai worthy of trust.

Four What Kanbei argued there at this time was naturally his years-long advocacy of supporting Oda that he emphatically reiterated. The realm would inevitably be swept by the banners of the Oda army. No matter how formidable the Mōri clan might be, or how fiercely the Miyoshi faction—clinging to the shogunate's remnants—might resist, before Oda Nobunaga they were ultimately mere grass before a prairie fire. This remained the conviction he reiterated.

However, that was but the premise—what he had solemnly resolved to declare this day was, ——the question of why it must be so. "In my judgment, that nature saw fit to birth Nobunaga upon this strife-darkened earth may be termed divine will—no work of mortal design or artifice." "Were this man not among us now, who could impose order upon this lawless age of rampant folly and mob violence—who might bind together, if only provisionally, these endless clashes between brethren each consumed by self-interest?" "For that very purpose—who else could channel present chaos into grand strategy? Who might wield our imperially anointed sovereigns in their decline as vessels suited to this land, steering toward an accord where common folk might dwell in harmony?" "Is there any but Nobunaga who could achieve this?"

“And furthermore,” he continued, “though Nobunaga’s forces undoubtedly serve him as their lord, he himself never forgets his position as a mere warrior retainer standing between the imperial family and the people. This ideology appears rooted in his father Nobuhide’s era—not some political expediency or superficial measure. Consider his past: defeating Imagawa Yoshimoto, conquering Saitō of Mino, rendering Asai and Asakura powerless. Having achieved such dominance, any ordinary man would have grown arrogant by now. Yet each victory finds him leading troops to Kyoto—first reporting pacification at the palace gates, then aiding commoners, urging memorial services at shrines, overseeing road repairs, restoring the imperial court’s ruined gates... Does he not resemble a dutiful child laboring at the household’s heart? Serving parents above while comforting pitiable siblings below—pouring forth such sincerity that he finds joy in the people’s shared jubilation? Through ten generations of Ashikaga shoguns and all provincial daimyos—has there ever been another like him? The Mōri may be strong, but they merely cling to Motonari’s precepts to guard their domains—their ambition never reaching beyond. The Miyoshi cannot be dismissed for their shogunal ties in Kii, Iga, Awa, and Sanuki—yet they remain relics of bygone thinking. Their crimes of plunging society into chaos and tormenting the people are far from trivial. Above all, they stand condemned by the people’s lost faith.”

he declared resolutely, “When viewed thus, is it not abundantly clear that there exists none but Nobunaga upon whom to stake your esteemed house’s fortunes, nor any other to whom we warriors may entrust our very lives?” “What we discern, what resonates with the common folk—would it be excessive to declare that only through Nobunaga’s emergence have the masses first glimpsed dawn’s light?” “The ideals of one who has so steadfastly bound the people’s trust through resolve such as I described—how could they possibly remain unrealized in this age?” “All the more so in this era when the realm holds nothing else worthy of reliance!”

Even that vast room—the indolence within it, the egos, the contentiousness—all were momentarily swept away, and only his voice could be heard there.

Path

One

It was the afternoon of that day. The heat was still at its peak.

Though it was but a rural castle in a corner of Harima Province, the young chief retainer, still only thirty years of age, with a healthy, ruddy countenance bearing a smile, steadily urged his horse forward alone toward Himeji.

He turned around and looked back at Gochaku Castle twice over his shoulder.

"I may never return there alive." It appeared Kanbei too harbored a touch of sentimentality. Sincerity finally left people with no choice but to bow. His conviction prevailed. His daily wish was indeed fulfilled.

(The group of Gochaku Castle, led by Kodera Masataka, would side with the Oda faction; however, as a strategy, they would carry this out while keeping it secret from neighboring domains to the utmost extent possible for the time being.)

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

As a result,

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

As it came to pass, naturally, none other than Kuroda Kanbei was put forward by both their lord and the household, and he came to assume that duty. Since it had been unanimously decided—not a day nor a moment too soon—he promptly requested leave from his lord, bid farewell to those who had shared the council seat, rose from that seat immediately, and set his horse toward Himeji. He had heard that Nobunaga was currently at Gifu Castle. To depart for the capital to reach that Gifu, passing through Himeji was the natural route; but taking advantage of the journey, he decided to stop by his family home at Himeji Castle—though his mother was long deceased—to bid farewell to his elderly father Sōen, and to show his face once more to his still-youthful wife and his own child, now eight years old, whom he had not seen in some time.

"...Right—I should stop by Akashi as well. If traveling by ship, boarding from that inlet there would suffice." Rather than dwell on the journey's perils, he occupied his mind with such anticipations. Be it sea or land routes—with Mōri forces and Miyoshi spies infesting every inch—the dangers were boundless to those who considered them. Yet though prudent in bearing, Kanbei remained a man who had only just turned thirty. For one entrusted with this mission, such concerns paled before the immense hopes and joys welling within his chest.

Suddenly, he recalled the hermitage at Akashi Inlet—for there lived the grandfather he had adored beyond words since childhood. His name was Akashi Masakaze—a man who shared close blood ties with him, being his maternal grandfather. Originally, his mother was the daughter of someone connected to the Konoe family. Akashi Masakaze—who had been her father—also frequented the Konoe household due to these ties, serving as a companion in the art of poetry to the Konoe father and son. But when the world grew turbulent, he built a hermitage on Akashi’s shores, adopted alternate names like Sōwa or Ingetsu-ō, taught writing to fishermen’s children, and spent his remaining years enjoying a life apart from fame and profit.

Two

Much of Kanbei’s character had been shaped by the upbringing and moral guidance of that beloved grandfather from his earliest years. Already in his mischievous boyhood, his grandfather’s teachings had begun to take root in the boy’s heart. And so, he first felt compelled to inform his grandfather of this mission—and his heart raced with the thought of also leaving a word for his father at Himeji Castle, whose resolve mirrored his own.

“Oh! “Master Mankichi.” “It is you, Master Mankichi.”

Someone called out to him.—Having been addressed by his childhood name after so long, he turned his horse and looked around the side of the road.

An old monk, his robes stained white by the dust of the blazing sky, approached with vigorous steps. Kanbei hurriedly jumped down from the saddle and, “Well now, Reverend Enmanbō. “It has been quite some time.” he lowered both hands to his knees and bowed respectfully.

He was the head priest of Jōdo-ji Temple in Himeji Castle town. Because he was such an amiable man, the townspeople all affectionately called him Enmanbō this and Enmanbō that. Kanbei had also received moral guidance from this monk. It was not long after those days of poverty when his father Sōen—not yet having become a castle lord—had made a living as a rōnin by peddling eye medicine among other things. From that time onward, this monk had been not merely an instructor in reading and writing, but a mentor who imparted various forms of moral cultivation to the seedling bed of the boy’s soul.

But Enmanbō, acting as if he were a friend, “Master Mankichi. Where are you off to?” wiping the salty sweat from his brow, he asked. “In truth, I am embarking on a journey.” With that, Kuroda Kanbei glanced around the area,

“Please rejoice for me. I have been assigned to go to Gifu.”

“To Gifu.” “Hmm….” “Is this an official mission for the lord’s house?”

“That is correct.”

“Splendid,” said Enmanbō. “That’s excellent news. Understood, understood.” “I shall not elaborate further,” Kanbei replied, “but please surmise the rest. Once I return safely, we shall meet at leisure.” “Take care on your journey,” Enmanbō urged, using Kanbei’s childhood name. “Stay vigilant along the way.” Kanbei merely listened to his teacher’s words while gazing back toward Gochaku. He showed an uncharacteristic pallor—unlike his usual composure. Enmanbō abruptly noticed this shift. Together they turned toward the direction of Kanbei’s stare. Two samurai came sprinting down the bone-dry white road as though soaring through the void. One gripped a short spear between his thighs while the other waved frantically, shouting something indistinct toward them. Kanbei stood motionless, his gaze fixed and unblinking as he waited.

Unyielding Conviction

I

That was Morita Tahei and Kuriyama Zensuke, young retainers. These two were not direct retainers of the Kodera family. They were, so to speak, sub-vassals, but had been raised from childhood by Kanbei’s father Sōen. Several years ago, when Kanbei—beloved for his exceptional talents—was earnestly entreated by Kodera Masataka to assume the position of chief retainer of Gochaku, Sōen, concerned for his son,

(In any situation, as long as these two were with him) he had selected them from among many household retainers and specifically sent them along.

Now, seeing Tahei and Zensuke approach with ghastly pallor and immediately prostrate themselves at his feet, even Kanbei—not one to be easily startled—

“What’s wrong?” “What has happened?” He could not help but raise his voice. The two men gasped for breath as they alternated in reporting: “After the council concluded—right after Your Lordship departed—those stubborn Mōri supporters showed their true colors. Call them cowards or traitors—they overturned the decision made before our lord’s very eyes! They slithered into the castle’s inner quarters and stole away Her Ladyship the youngest princess—still but a child—delivering her straight to the Mōri envoys.” “…Like common brigands, they carried her through the rear gate in broad daylight—swift as the wind!”

“Lord Ogawa of your clan could not have been unaware, and there can be no doubt that even among the ladies-in-waiting of the inner quarters, there were those in league with them.” “Furthermore, we believe that elder retainers such as Murai, Kuramitsu, and Masuda were fully aware and entrusted His Lordship’s daughter into the hands of the Mōri family as a hostage.” “…………”

Kuroda Kanbei stood dumbfounded. More than his own resentment at being outmaneuvered by the opposition faction, he found himself pitying the elder retainers' obstinate antiquated notions and reckless actions—stemming from their desperate belief that neither Gochaku Castle nor their individual fates could endure without such extreme measures. "Hmm…" "I see." Even he could not suppress a groan-like sigh. "If it concerns Lady Suehime—that six-year-old princess…" "How shocked must His Lordship Masataka have been upon learning this." "Did he rebuke the elder retainers? Or did he simply remain silent?"

“We have not yet ascertained His Lordship’s condition.” “Well—there was someone who informed us of it, so no sooner had we heard than we two rushed to the temple outside the castle where the Mōri family’s envoys were staying.” “Well noticed.—And Her Ladyship’s person—?” “Regrettably, we were unable to retrieve Her Ladyship.” “So—there was a skirmish?” “Not at all! Had that been the case, we would have staked our lives rather than meekly surrender Her Ladyship to them. But the envoy’s party had already departed the castle town at dawn—not a single horse remains behind.”

“Ah… So it seems they’d already settled on a prearranged scheme.” “Ah… There’s no avoiding it now.”

Even this unforeseen event seemed to have already been processed by his clear mind into a provisional response. His tone had already regained its usual brightness when he suddenly turned around and offered a faint smile to Enmanbō, who had been standing there all along.

“Master Enmanbō. As you have now heard, my journey demands even greater urgency. We shall meet again in more tranquil times. This is our farewell.”

He gathered the reins, gave the horse’s flat neck two or three light taps, and nimbly settled into the saddle.

II

From horseback, he looked down once more at the ground and spoke to the two retainers still kneeling there with their hands planted before them.

“Tahei, Zensuke.”

“Yes!” “I leave it to you!”

“Yes…” “As for the residence—let whatever happens to it happen.” “To be in charge of the castle during one’s absence means protecting what lies within its walls.” “While I am away, those conspiring to side with the Mōri will surely employ every scheme—flattery, coercion—to sway His Lordship. But you must unite with the young men in the castle, likely a third of them, who share this Kanbei’s views, and keep a close eye on their movements.” “That is the duty of stewardship during my absence that I entrust to you.”

“Understood. Until your return, even if we must cling to the stone walls ourselves, we will not let Gochaku Castle tilt toward the Mōri faction.” “That settles future concerns. …Yet hearing your words brought him relief.” “Now I depart—but shall return.”

As he turned the horse and began to advance, Enmanbō swiftly rushed to the side of its saddle,

“—Lord Mankichi.” “Are you prepared? Is all well?”

Enmanbō stared fixedly up at Kanbei’s face. Kanbei spoke soothingly, “I am fine. Please do not concern yourself.” “If I, Kuroda Kanbei, were acting out of self-interest or personal ambition, this might indeed be a reckless gamble.” “Should His Lordship and all within Gochaku Castle fully align with the Mōri faction, my wife, children, and elderly father in Himeji would assuredly face immediate execution.” “Yet—” “Kanbei’s intentions shine with the clarity of this azure sky.” “Not a shred of personal advancement clouds my purpose.” “I swear before heaven that my course alone can preserve our lord’s house—that this conviction shall spare Chūgoku from war’s ravages and bring peace to our master’s troubled spirit.”

“I believe.” “But given how matters stand now, to what extent does His Lordship’s crucial resolve hold?” “Hmm… It’s that aspect that leaves me uneasy.”

“By nature, His Lordship is kind-hearted,” he said. “When I remain at his side, he readily accepts my counsel. Yet should I leave the castle even briefly, he lends his ear to heresies and dissenting views—wavering between allying with Mōri or relying on Oda. That is his weakness… I suspect His Lordship may not be entirely unaware that his youngest daughter was given to the Mōri as a hostage.” “Half of him consents to this deed, while the other half—I humbly surmise—awaits this Kanbei’s favorable counsel with bated heart. Therefore, no matter how the elder retainers or any clansmen may scheme, His Lordship will never declare his banner clearly until I return from Gifu.” “Thus first—until this Kanbei returns swiftly from Gifu—I believe there will certainly be no further changes at Gochaku Castle.”

“No—” “You have spoken well.” “...If you’ve already considered matters so thoroughly, this monk’s needless worrying is entirely pointless.” “Go forth in good health.”

“Farewell.” “Tahei, Zensuke.” “Do not forget the request I just made.”

Kanbei’s figure was enveloped in the horse’s dust and vanished down the distant path in the blink of an eye.

The Hill Clan

I

To Himeji was just under one ri. For a galloping steed, it was but the span of a single whip lash. There, at the strategic throat between San’yō and Kinki, stood a fortified stronghold—yet at that time, it did not yet possess the grand spectacle that would later be known as Himeji Castle. It was nothing more than a branch castle built to defend Gochaku’s main fortress, its moats and bailey layout of extremely simple construction—merely a residence that a local clan called Kuroda had built and inhabited atop a tree-covered hill for a little over a decade.

However, it was in recent years that such formidable power and popular support had come to gather at this hill house, and the reason for this was none other than that the heir Kanbei had surpassed his parent—or so it could be said without exaggeration. People of the world, ever eager to speak ill, “The power of gold is truly remarkable.” “A ronin eye medicine seller became a landowner before anyone knew it and came to possess such a large number of servants and horses.”

Even now, there were still those who whispered behind closed doors—*“The power of gold is truly something”*—but it was by no means such wealth that had brought about these changes. The true cause lay in the demonstrable excellence of the heir who year by year had elevated Himeji’s small castle into a weighty presence among neighboring domains and further magnified his father Sōen’s prestige—all this achieved by Kuroda Kanbei, who had only just turned thirty. Indeed, within Kodera’s domain—due to its encompassing Harima’s mountains and remote coastal areas—local lords resided everywhere, bandits established their power bases, and subduing these brigands consumed so much in war expenses and administrative strain that they could perform no other governance, resulting in utter disarray.

Not only within the Kodera clan’s domain but in any province one looked, such was the actual state of affairs that it could be said to represent the general societal conditions of the time. In such an age, even a mere eye medicine seller could own fields, raise horses, support retainers, and—should he one day build stone walls upon Himeji’s hill to amass arms and strength—maintain peace and order in nearby villages. Though his influence might not extend to neighboring provinces, there he could establish a martial house of his own.

Moreover, to this Kuroda family, heaven now bestowed a prodigy, and their fortunes began to flourish ever more prominently. With Kanbei as the heir, the household included his younger brother Koichirō and two younger sisters—but above all, his talents had already shone brightly from the age of fifteen or sixteen. After his mother’s death, he for a time immersed himself in literary pursuits and frequently composed waka poetry. This inclination seemed rooted in the influence of his maternal grandfather Akashi Masakaze—until one day Enmanbō of Jōdo-ji Temple, whom he revered as his teacher of Confucian classics and Zen philosophy—

“Now is not the time to compose poetry about flowers, birds, wind, and moon,” Enmanbō had said. “Your grandfather’s tranquil realm may permit such things, but are you not a youth who must now stride ever deeper into these raging storms? Pray earnestly to heaven about the present age.” From that moment, Kanbei had abruptly abandoned the way of poetry and devoted himself wholly to Zen and military strategy.

Being such a Kanbei, by around twenty-two years of age he had subdued bandit chieftains like Sawazōbō in nearby villages and subjugated clans such as the Mashima in Sayo District. In any case, when the heir of Himeyama marched out leading his family’s retainers, he would invariably return victorious—a trust that had been earned even by the townspeople. What fortified the Kuroda family on this hill year by year was neither wealth nor any other force; in truth, it was the very local warlords and bandits in their vicinity who persistently opposed them as enemies.

(What manner of man was this Kuroda?)

And so, Lord of Gochaku Castle, Kodera Masataka, once visited this hill under the pretext of a hunting expedition. This connection led to Kuroda Sōen serving as a vassal of the Kodera family from then on, and in time his son Kanbei came to succeed his father in the crucial position of chief retainer. Compared to other hereditary vassals, their tenure was brief, but since the Kuroda father and son became retainers, banditry within the Kodera family’s domain ceased entirely, lost territories were reclaimed from enemy hands, and the people submitted willingly to their benevolent governance.

Yet just when they had finally brought internal governance to order, pressure from abroad now pressed keenly upon this small domain, compelling it to declare its allegiance clearly. For two or three years, they had managed to paper over this with a wait-and-see attitude, but now the sudden storm of events no longer permitted even a single day’s delay.

II “O-Matsu... Be good and wait.” “Father must now pass through the capital on an official mission to the land of Gifu.” “Is that clear?” “Do you understand?”

Kanbei stroked his child’s head again and again. The only child Matsuchiyo was eight years old. A child born in the very year he had married his current wife. He seemed irresistibly cute. “Yes, yes.”

Matsuchiyo looked at his father’s face and nodded clearly. To a child’s mind, even a journey to a distant province could only register as that simple reality. "Matsuchiyo wants to go with Father to that place called Gifu too."

When he returned to his mother’s side, Matsuchiyo said that and pulled at his beautiful mother’s hand. Sōen, who had been silently watching Kanbei, his wife, and their grandchild all this while, swallowed down a harshness akin to splitting green wood deep in his chest and deliberately made an unamused face.

“Kanbei! Kanbei!” “What manner of samurai are you?” “Here you linger weeping over women and children while on urgent mission—is this how warriors part?” “Enough! Make haste!” “If you hurry now, you might yet board ship from Shikama Beach ere nightfall.” “A moment’s delay now could breed ten years’ regret—mark me!”

“No— I did not intend to stay this long, but time slipped away. Then I shall take my leave. And to you as well, Father—please remain steadfast.”

“Do not concern yourself with this old man in the slightest. Hurry now, be off with you!” Then, the young wife suddenly pulled Matsuchiyo onto her lap, twisted her body to face away, and stifling a sob, began to cry. Kanbei had been just twenty-two and she barely fifteen when she had married into this household, so even with an eight-year-old child, his wife’s age had only just reached twenty-three. Moreover, this woman was the niece of Kodera Masataka—her appearance beautiful, her talents abundant—a female said to be a beauty throughout the land.

(...This might be our final parting in this life.) It was only natural. (So pitifully endearing...) Even Sōen had perceived her heartfelt anguish with painful clarity, yet when he considered his son’s mission and the gravity of its outcome, he steeled himself to keep even his own child and daughter-in-law from entering the periphery of his mind. “Wait, Kanbei—wait,” he called. “Are you going alone? Are you not taking even a single attendant?”

“Yes, traveling alone makes for easier movement.” “One must consider contingencies.” “Kinugasa Kyūzaemon.” “Would you not take at least him along?” “No—traveling alone will attract less notice.” Kanbei too exited the room with obstinate determination, offering no parting words to his wife and child—the instant he left, he was already whipping his horse down Himeyama’s slope. The farewell proved so abrupt it rendered meaningless his very visit.

Reijukou

1

Several strands of smoke from the salt fields rose straight into the air. The height of the sun passed somewhat, but in the port town of Shikama, the evening calm from now until sunset was said to be the hottest part of the day. The bindweed’s leaves and flowers were covered in white dust, and on the sandy plain, there was no shade. The houses visible beyond marked an area where, come nightfall, one could hear the rough voices of port men and the strains of string music. This crossroads formed a single-sided row of houses facing the vacant lot. Kanbei jumped down from his horse’s back, let the animal graze on the grass, and brushed off the dust covering his body from his hakama down to his back.

“Oh! If it isn’t the young lord of Himeji!” “Daughter! Daughter!” “Prepare the foot-washing water!”

Yojiemon, who had been at the front of the shop, rose in surprise upon seeing the figure outside. After leaving instructions with O-Kiku—who was diligently filling seashell containers with homemade eye ointment behind the screen—he hastily slipped on his straw sandals and rushed across the thoroughfare. "Oh ho! What brings you here—if it isn't the Young Lord!" "Why have you come so suddenly, alone—" Circling behind Kanbei, he brushed off dust and removed his hat, welcoming him with such urgency that he barely let him touch ground before leading the way.

“Old man, old man. Rather than me, take that horse to the back entrance first. Then immediately remove the saddle and hide it in the back. The saddle draws eyes too easily, you see.” “Then, could it be that Your Lordship has come incognito on some urgent matter?” “This isn’t just incognito—it’s a covert journey where every move fears detection. Especially here—a port town bustling with people from various provinces. Hurry up. I’ll explain the details later.”

“Yes.” “Yes.” “Hey, Daughter! Open the back gate.” “I’m bringing the horse in!” Though he did not yet understand what was happening, Yojiemon took the horse’s reins and in great haste dragged it into the alley. While watching this, Kanbei sat down on the shop’s threshold and, with the ease of 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 Secret: Divine Efficacy) Reijukou

When he looked up at the eye medicine boldly inscribed as such, recalling his own childhood and his father’s impoverished days, he gazed at it nostalgically for a while.

2

Yojiemon the eye medicine seller had also once been one of the servants of Kanbei’s father, Shigetaka Sōen. When Urakami Munenori, senior retainer of the Akamatsu clan, overthrew his lord and plunged the province into chaos, Sōen fled the turmoil from Bizen to Harima and had been living as a rōnin for many years since. Iguchi Yojiemon had indeed been a retainer since those days, loyally serving his lord through the era of hardship; later, after Sōen became a vassal of the Kodera family and solidified their present foundation, Yojiemon—now aged and ailing—expressed his desire to spend his remaining years in a carefree townhouse. In recognition of his service, Sōen transferred to him the preparation and sale of their family’s eye medicine, which had once sustained them through their own destitution, thus repaying his longstanding loyalty.

Such was their relationship; moreover, from early childhood, Kanbei had grown so accustomed to Yojiemon—having his nose wiped by him, being carried on his back—that he had behaved with near-complete disregard for the formalities of lord and retainer. Even now, whenever he saw Yojiemon, something of that spoiled child’s tone would inadvertently slip into his words.

“Old man, old man. Don’t bother with anything else. I won’t linger long. After taking a brief rest, I intend to depart by boat as soon as night falls.” Sitting in a room facing the north-facing garden and wiping sweat from his face, Kanbei said. Yet as if knowing nothing of restraint, he spread out to fill the room while seated, vigorously fanning himself to draw cool air into his robes.

Without forgetting the old etiquette, Yojiemon positioned himself deferentially 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.” “...Incidentally—could you employ your resourcefulness to secure a small vessel to cross to Settsu?” “A simple matter—but pray tell, where precisely does Your Lordship journey this time?” “Gifu. My destination lies—”

“To Gifu.” “Then you have.” “Doubtless grasped the matter.” “...Does this mean Lord Oda Nobunaga himself resides there?”

“First, consider that the matter at hand lies in that general area.” “In this Chūgoku region, even the mere mention of Nobunaga’s name makes eyes gleam unnaturally.” “If it were known that I, Gochaku’s chief retainer, went there, it would boil over like a cauldron.” “Therefore, I must move in absolute secrecy.” “As for the boatman—find me either one utterly trustworthy or else a man who seems a fool.”

“I understand perfectly. …That said, traveling alone through regions akin to enemy territory all the way to Kyoto—what if something were to happen?” “No—no matter how cautious one is, when it’s time to be killed, escape is difficult. And when destiny has not yet run its course, no matter what peril one faces, it won’t end so easily.” “It has been your temperament since childhood.” “Given your resolve thus far, there can be no thought of you altering your will.” “But if by any chance Your Lordship senses peril along the way—in Settsu’s Itami, this one’s brother…”

and, indicating O-Kiku—who was pouring tea beside him—with his eyes, “Though bound only by duty, this one’s brother—a man called Shiroganeya Shinpachi, a goldsmith—has built a modest household there. Should Your Lordship hide there or issue any command, even were it to grind his bones to dust, he would serve as faithfully as this old man ever has.” “Hmm—the Shiroganeya house in Itami.” “I may yet burden them.” “I shall remember.”

With that, Kanbei took a sip of the tea O-Kiku had offered,

“I’d like a bowl of rice gruel.” “Before boarding the boat.” “Daughter.” “Prepare something.” “In the meantime, I’ll go to the shore and hire a reliable man and boat,” said Yojiemon as he went outside.

*The Forerunner’s Lone Sail*

*I*

Before long, the town reached lamplighting time. As evening fell, a wind reminiscent of the coast flowed chillingly into the alleyways. Around the time Kanbei had finished eating his rice gruel, Yojiemon returned. “It may prove somewhat inconvenient,” he said, “but I gave silver to a mute boatman known for absolute honesty and had him moor beneath Gan no Matsu.” “Yet this very evening—word came that over ten Mōri seafarers disembarked from provision ships and now drink with Miki Castle retainers in yūjo alleyways. Moreover, unfamiliar warriors prowl these streets in numbers. You must guard yourself fiercely when venturing forth.”

With that, he urged him to remain vigilant. Kanbei nodded, “Even now, as I ate and considered it, I feel that traveling all the way to Gifu overland would be difficult in this guise—the sea route is another matter. Since this house happens to send out eye-medicine peddlers to various provinces, could you lend me a full set of their traveling attire? I’ll change my appearance right here and depart immediately.”

Yojiemon agreed that this was a sound plan, but when he saw Kanbei changing into the peddler’s stained undergarments and gaiters, the dangers ahead and the resolve in his heart weighed heavily on him. Having raised this man from childhood with devoted care, Yojiemon could not help but turn his face away and secretly wipe his tears.

Yet the man himself appeared utterly carefree, entirely unburdened by such sentimentality. “How’s this—does it suit me?” he jested, glancing back at O-Kiku, and— “The luggage mustn’t contain empty boxes either.” “Should they inspect it during some incident, that would spell disaster.” “Bring out all the minor items too—the credit ledgers, the eye-medicine shop’s credentials.” “...Ah, my head.” “Indeed, this topknot’s current style won’t do.” “O-Kiku—could you loosen this slightly and retie it properly?”

Even as he hastened ahead, he paid meticulous attention to every detail.

II Before the moon rose, Kanbei exited through the back door. He firmly refused, but Yojiemon insisted on accompanying him to the shore, and O-Kiku was equally determined to see him off to the boat.

“Come after me.” Kuroda Kanbei strode through the town with long steps and hurried toward Gan no Matsu pine on the shore. When he looked, what appeared to be the promised small boat was moored there with a single rope. Kuroda Kanbei approached the water’s edge, “The boatman hired by Yojiemon—is it you?” “Is this the boat promised to Settsu?” He called out twice.

The boatman crouched at the stern, lighting a fire in the earthen stove while simmering something. And he did not even turn around.

“Ahahaha!” Kanbei began to laugh by himself. Because he had remembered that this boatman was mute.

So he waited there alone for Yojiemon to arrive after deciding they would proceed together once he came. Yet unexpectedly taking his time—for reasons unclear—the man finally showed himself here quite late.

“I kept you waiting.” “Actually, when I came out after you, I happened to meet Lord Kinugasa right at the town’s crossroads, so because of that…”

He looked back and stepped aside. Kinugasa Kyūzaemon—his father’s close retainer from Himeji—had also changed into eye-medicine peddler’s attire and was silently bowing to his knees, holding his hat in both hands.

“Ah, Kyūzaemon.” “Why have you followed me here?” “It is by the command of His Lordship.” “What? Father’s command?” “When I stopped by Himeyama Manor to bid farewell, he drove me out as if scolding my reluctance—urging me to leave without a moment’s delay, saying, ‘What are you clinging to?’—all while…” “Though he urged you onward with encouragement, as a parent, who can know how deeply he must have been concerned for your safety on this journey, deep in his heart?” “…After you departed, His Lordship soon summoned me, stating that should any unforeseen incident occur en route, while your life may be forfeit, it would also impact the future of the entire Chūgoku region.” “By His Lordship’s gracious words—‘Accompany him and ensure no harm befalls him on the journey’—I was entrusted with a duty far beyond my station. Thus, I have come following after you.”

“…I see.”

Kanbei turned his gaze toward Himeji’s sky. Without another word about the matter, he ordered Yojiemon to summon the mute’s boat to shore. “Your care has been invaluable.” “Now—I go and return.”

Taking Kyūzaemon along, Kanbei immediately boarded the boat. The expressionless boatman had already gripped the oar handle and was rowing with creaking sounds. The seafront lay calm, and with a moderate night breeze blowing, once they had left the shore, the boatman promptly hoisted the sail. Beneath Gan no Matsu pine, the father and daughter stood watching until the white sail’s silhouette vanished from sight.

On this night, in the land of Chūgoku, there was yet no one who knew that this single sail—quietly heading eastward across the resonant sea, carrying the soft southern breeze—would soon transform the tides of power in Sanyo, leave a vast tidal surge across all Japan in its wake, and become the vanguard of reformist forces that reshaped history.

Blacksmith Quarter

I

The short journey from Himeji to Gifu—passing through sea routes and crossing over land routes—had in reality taken them over a month, and by late July, the two eye-medicine peddlers had finally arrived. The trials they had endured during that brief period—trials that seemed to shorten their very lifespans—were etched into their haggard forms. Grime clung to their collars, their faces burned pitch-black, even the flesh around their sunken eyes grown gaunt. Now none who saw them would have taken them for the Kodera family’s chief retainer or his vassals. They appeared as nothing more than grimy traveling peddlers hawking their family’s secret “Reishukō” eye ointment.

“What do you think, Kyūzaemon? The bustle of this castle town—no, this vitality itself—” “What tremendous energy, sir. Even the eyes of passersby and their very gaits differ from what we see in Chūgoku.” “Yet when you observe the goods gathered at market or glimpse the town’s culture—in material wealth and civic refinement—the cities and ports of the western provinces far surpass this place.” “Somehow, this burning fervor… Chūgoku lacks it entirely.”

“It is the difference between the western regions, where the conservative policies of the Mōri clan manifest themselves, and the eastern regions, burning with the vigor of innovation breaking free from convention. With this, is it not clear where the central force that moves the era forward lies?”

While walking, Kanbei often spoke. He also keenly observed things. And he would immediately fall silent whenever passersby approached. In concealing themselves from others’ eyes, the master and retainer had in time become skilled. “By the way, to have an audience with Lord Nobunaga, would it not be the wisest strategy to request an introduction through someone—even among the Oda clan’s senior retainers—who enjoys Lord Nobunaga’s deepest trust?”

Upon entering this destination, Kinugasa Kyūzaemon had assumed his master Kanbei would immediately ascend to Gifu Castle. But Kuroda Kanbei took lodgings at a dingy boarding house in the Blacksmith Quarter and spent both the day they arrived and the next walking through the town peddling eye medicine.

“Hmm… You speak truth.” “Within the Oda clan, tracing my father’s lineage or maternal connections reveals acquaintances—not entirely without those we might recognize upon meeting, though their faces remain unknown.” “Yet beginnings dictate all.” “The stakes tower particularly high.” “Better to avoid intermediaries of middling caliber.” “Among those currently influential in the Oda household—firstly, Lord Hayashi Sado-no-kami, Lord Sakuma Nobumori, 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 finger one by one and said, “Lord Hashiba—”, Kanbei alone shook his head vigorously and, “What a scorching heat.” “Gifu is hot too.” “Let’s call it a day for today’s sales.”

With that, they turned the corner and returned once more that day to the boarding house in the Blacksmith Quarter.

II

The backstreet district where only artisans—blacksmiths, dyers, leatherworkers—crowded to live was a place where day and night blurred into one under the red flames of bellows, the clang of hammers, and the shouts of laborers. Even at midnight, when all of Gifu’s castle town had fallen asleep, sparks flew there in this district.

The time was the immediate aftermath of the Battle of Nagashino. The artisan town was under the rule of a lord who had just returned in triumph after achieving a decisive victory so overwhelming that it had demoted the Takeda of Kōyama—long hailed as an undefeated iron army—to a second-rate province in one fell swoop. The prosperity was a given, but their strong-willed nature was anything but ordinary. Semi-naked figures with faces streaked with unwashed sweat seethed with a murderous intensity—in the streets, inside homes, and within workshops.

And as their catchphrase went, "Whether it was Anegawa or Nagashino, our great victories were only natural." "Our commander's one thing, but don't let it be said we don't pour our souls into every spear and arrowhead we forge! Just you wait—whether it's Uesugi of Echigo, the Honganji, or even the Mōri of Chūgoku, they'll all be melted down in the bellows of my forge!" The boarding house where Kanbei and his retainer lodged was adjacent to a tavern where such people gathered to catch their breath, and just as night fell and they were thinking of going to sleep, the neighboring side would be reaching its peak of liveliness.

The noise alone was tolerable enough, but at times the walls shook, and rat droppings from the rafters came tumbling down onto their sleeping faces. Even now, Kyūzaemon appeared startled by something and lifted his head from the wooden pillow,

“This is intolerable. No mosquito netting, that racket—you’ve chosen a dreadful inn.” As he grumbled, Kyūzaemon suddenly noticed Kanbei lying on the same straw mat with their pillows aligned—still awake and smirking. “You can’t possibly sleep like this. Let’s move to another inn tomorrow. This nightly disturbance will leave us sleep-deprived.” He spoke bluntly.

“No matter where we go, it’s the same thing—with this heat and the mosquitoes…” Kanbei slowly rose and sat on the thin straw mattress. “Since the voices next door carry right through, I can grasp the castle town’s prices, people’s sentiments, and all manner of circumstances as clearly as if holding them in my hand—even while lying here. It appeared to be next to a tavern, so I deliberately chose this lodging. Kyūzaemon, endure this sleeplessness at least.”

Midnight Knock

I

Hashiba Hideyoshi had arrived in Gifu that day, leading a small squad of subordinates and a modest baggage train from Odani Castle in northern Ōmi. No sooner had they triumphed at Nagashino than the air in Gifu grew thick with what was nearly an open secret: their next campaign would be to Echizen. Even if subtle schemes could be concealed, what all people sensed was akin to the surging tide’s force—it could not be shielded from the world’s eyes and ears. “No—we are not heading to the lodgings,” he barked. “We will proceed directly to the main castle now.” His voice carried over the clatter of hooves. “…Only the baggage handlers—split off and head to the lodgings.”

At a street corner, shouting these orders to his subordinates from horseback was Hashiba Hideyoshi. 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 body remained remarkably compact, eyes that glittered without particular dignity, and a face scorched russet-black by the blazing sun. To those unaware of his identity, he would have seemed no more than a captain commanding a hundred men in bearing.

“What? Are we turning back?” “Turn back, turn back! Leave the baggage train as it is.” The subordinates—who had apparently taken it for granted that upon arriving there they would first head to their lodgings to wipe off sweat, rest their bodies, and at least spend tonight at ease—were suddenly ordered by lower-ranking officers relaying Hideyoshi’s words once more to turn back from the path they had nearly entered. In that moment, the crossroads became a scene of unusual congestion thick with the smell of horse sweat and human perspiration.

Then, the mounted page who had been at Hideyoshi’s side suddenly moved his spear and positioned it firmly to block one side of the thoroughfare. “Hey! What do you think you’re doing approaching?!” shouted shrilly. For a man had dashed up beside Hideyoshi’s horse, having timed his approach from beneath the eaves of a merchant house a little ahead. However, the man held no weapons. He carried nothing but the load and hat of an eye-medicine peddler. And the other generals also simply turned their eyes to the ground in unison and did not act hastily.

“I am by no means a suspicious person.” “As my master’s messenger, I have been awaiting an opportune moment during your passage since this morning.” “I humbly beg you to convey this letter from my master.”

A letter appeared in his hand, so a foot soldier took it and passed it to a mounted general. (How should I handle this?) The general turned to look at Hideyoshi as if asking with his eyes, but Hideyoshi had already leaned halfway over his horse’s mane and was reaching out his hand. The contents seemed brief—Hideyoshi read them at a glance—and immediately afterward, he looked at Kinugasa Kyūzaemon and answered. “Tell him to come in the evening.”

Kyūzaemon was ecstatic and said, “Then—this very night.” “A bit late’s fine,” came the reply. “And your lodgings?” “Anyone you ask’ll know—a temple west of here called… something-or-other.” “Red gate, I think.” “Understood.”

By the time Kyūzaemon bowed and raised his head, the dust from Hideyoshi’s retinue had already begun scraping its way out of the sun-baked town, advancing toward Inabayama Castle’s main gate.

II

Before meeting Nobunaga, he would first meet a man called Hashiba Tōkichirō. Depending on the circumstances, he would meet Nobunaga through that man directly—without involving hereditary lords. Kuroda Kanbei had first taken note of this Hashiba of the Oda clan while still in his home province. Yet his profound admiration for the man had only blossomed after arriving in Gifu, where his long-held expectations were corroborated by various facts. Among hereditary senior vassals and the Oda clan’s high-ranking generals, the derisive nickname “Monkey” still circulated—indeed, his standing seemed actively disparaged rather than merely poor. But among mid-ranking up-and-coming generals, proper evaluations and genuine respect certainly existed. What truly convinced Kanbei to think “This is the man,” however, came from the voices of commoners in the castle town. Here, with no conflicting notions or vested interests regarding Hideyoshi, they all earnestly praised “Lord Hashiba this” and “Lord Hashiba that” for his virtue. When speaking of Lord Tōkichirō of Odani, they declared in unison:

“(That man is truly great…),” they said. When Kuroda Kanbei himself tried to consider why he was so supported by the commoners, unlike other brave and fierce generals, Tōkichirō Hideyoshi had no particular reputation for martial valor. Yet whether serving as magistrate, overseeing castle construction, or being entrusted with governance, there was never a post Hideyoshi assumed where significant achievements did not follow. And when those put to work by him returned to town, they would all sing his praises in unison; in every occupied land where his figure was seen, all came to regard him with the familiarity of a family patriarch.

(He must be a man of some worth.) (Even within a household as fresh and progressive as the Oda’s, rather than entrusting my grand ambitions to those who flaunt their status as hereditary senior vassals, it would be better to take the gamble—meet him, test his caliber, and if he proves a man worth relying on—to first make Hashiba Tōkichirō my own asset before meeting Nobunaga. That would not be too late.)

Considering every aspect, Kanbei had thus made his judgment. However, if there had been a grave miscalculation on his part during this time, it was that until meeting Hideyoshi, he had truly intended in his heart to skillfully secure Tōkichirō Hideyoshi for his own grand ambitions and put him to good use. But try as he might to scheme—the more he looked back in hindsight, even someone of Kanbei’s caliber could not help but acknowledge that the reverse had been true.

III

The hour was late.

Kuroda and his retainers came to a halt before a temple near the edge of the castle town.

Even arriving in the dead of night was permissible. Therefore, acting on those very words, Kuroda Kanbei had deliberately delayed his arrival until late into the night.

“Please wait.” “I shall go and inquire.” Kinugasa Kyūzaemon knocked on the small gate and informed the guards inside of their purpose. Had Hideyoshi’s instructions not reached them? Their interrogation grew piercingly severe—though of course, Kanbei still wore his eye-medicine peddler’s guise that night, making suspicion inevitable. “Wait here,” barked a voice. They lingered outside for nearly half an hour. Yet when different retainers finally came to receive them, their earlier discourtesy was met with profuse apologies and impeccable courtesy.

“The truth is, our lord Hideyoshi scarcely slept at inns during his journey here from northern Ōmi; when camping out, he would rouse himself after a brief nap and press on with his horse, arriving in a state of sleepless exhaustion. No sooner had he arrived than he proceeded directly to the main castle without stopping here at these lodgings to confer with Lord Nobunaga—only descending here around dusk. Then, no sooner had he taken his bath than he began snoring loudly in slumber… We sincerely apologize for the discourtesy.” “He has expressed his wish to meet you promptly.” “Right this way.”

Holding aloft hand-held lanterns to guide their guests deep into the temple garden, the Hashiba retainers repeatedly offered explanations and apologized as they went. They must be the pages serving at Hideyoshi’s side. Among them, he thought he recognized the face of a young man who had directed his spear at Kyūzaemon earlier that day. In any case, even the servants were all courteous toward their guests. Even as they shielded their master’s fatigue, they did so without ostentation; and even after ushering their guest into a chamber, the collective brightness cultivated by the household far outshone the lamplight there, laying bare the very essence of the Hashiba household’s character.

First Meeting

I

Kyūzaemon, his attendant, was kept in a separate room, and only Kanbei was guided across the corridor to the inner guest quarters. Within white-papered walls spanning approximately twenty tatami mats, three candles shone brightly. As he entered, a procession of resplendent pages filed past him carrying away trays and sake decanters. Despite the late hour, Hideyoshi had only just awoken moments before and seemed to have finished his meal mere instants ago. From this, one could infer how relentlessly busy his daily life was—how his private affairs, morning and evening, were pushed through haphazardly with no regard for time.

“Ah—this is—” The man who spoke was none other than he—rising from his futon the moment he saw his guest to greet them. Before Kanbei could sit down, Hideyoshi came striding over: “Well now! You’ve come to visit.” “To me, you’re an unexpected surprise.” “Not bad at all…” Hideyoshi seemed ready to clasp his hand. It was as though he welcomed a decade-old acquaintance. Provincial lords typically affected imposing airs, yet here lingered not a wisp of such pretense. His bearing proved far less majestic than anticipated—Kanbei stood no giant himself, but Hideyoshi too was slight of frame. Only his voice loomed larger than other men’s: this booming instrument ill-suited to his body appeared wholly natural. When his guest settled, he dispensed with formalities in startling brevity—

“I’ve long heard much about you.” “You may think this our first meeting on your side, but this Chikuzen feels as if we’re old acquaintances—for while accompanying Lord Nobunaga to Kyoto time and again, I often heard your name mentioned by Lord Konoe Sakihisa, who shares close ties with your lord.” “…As for your grandfather Lord Akashi Masakaze, I understand he regularly attended both the previous Konoe family head and the current Lord Sakihisa in his youth as an instructor of poetic arts.”

Starting from an unexpected topic, he spoke in a manner so well-informed—ranging from the current state of Gochaku, a mere rural backwater in Chūgoku, to the relationship between the Kuroda and Kodera families—that Kanbei found himself taken aback. “While there’s no shortage of capable men in Chūgoku, I’d heard from not just the Konoe family but even Araki Murashige of Settsu that the son of Himeji’s eye-medicine peddler was a promising fellow worth watching—one I’d been itching to meet when chance allowed.” “That you’ve come all this way to Gifu—what joy beyond words!” “Earlier at the town crossroads, when your retainer handed me that letter, I nearly thought it some namesake impostor!” “Ah! What a splendid night this turns out to be!”

And the manner in which he displayed his honest delight seemed to transcend all commonplace flattery and social artifice—discarding distinctions of status, hierarchy, or even the formalities between host and guest—appearing as nothing less than a single unadorned human laying bare his emotions without pretense.

II

Until facing this chamber, Kanbei stiffened slightly. This could indeed be called only natural. After all, he was but a mere retainer of a minor provincial daimyo, while the other party was a man who held a castle even under Oda Nobunaga. In terms of status, there was a marked difference. For him, even sharing the same room could be called an exceptional favor. But Kanbei harbored not a shred of servile intent to achieve his aims under Hideyoshi’s shadow. If he was a lord of a castle, then he too belonged to a samurai lineage; if Hideyoshi stood eminent among central warriors, then he too held the confidence to stir the storms of Chūgoku east or west with but a finger—this he did not voice, yet his bearing declared it plainly.

“Ah, is that so? That you have known this country bumpkin so well beforehand is both unexpected and rather delightful to me. Not that I mean to simply echo your words, but in truth, even I have long been drawn to the name Hashiba Tokichiro since my days in the home province. Therefore, having carefully gathered every rumor into these ears, within the Oda household, there was no one other than Your Lordship whom I held in such regard.”

“How curious.” “To think we yearned for each other without even having met.” “Public praise and censure being what they are—there’s likely more ill rumor than good—yet for someone like Lord Chikuzen to receive such regard from you… I am humbled.” “—But to be frank, until meeting you, I had imagined a rather imposing physique. That alone struck me as somewhat unexpected.” “Well, you see—growing up in an impoverished peasant household since childhood, I’ve always been this frail by nature.” “However, upon first glance, you don’t look much like an imposing figure either.” “How old might you be?”

“Exactly thirty, my lord.”

“You’re thirty years old, yes? “Then I’m well ahead of you as your elder.” “Nine years your senior.” To this man he was meeting for the first time, Hideyoshi had deliberately employed the term “elder brother.” Kanbei privately questioned this excessive address in his heart, but Hideyoshi showed no sign of finding it improper; suddenly, he turned toward the seat beside him.

“So O-Kiku and Kanbei are exactly two years apart.” “Kanbei’s the youngest, then O-Kiku, with this Chikuzen above them.” “Come to think of it, I’ve already fallen out from the ranks of youngsters.” “Yet I’m still not quite fit to join the grown-ups either.”

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

A single figure who had been present there also smiled wordlessly and silently. He was a warrior who had offered only a slight bow at first and now sat rigidly at Hideyoshi’s side, still yet to utter a single word. His complexion was pale, his muscles lean; he possessed eyes as clear as a hawk resting its wings amidst pine winds. Kanbei had secretly been wondering since earlier, “Who might this be?” “Is he a member of your household?”

And, seizing the moment, he tried asking Hideyoshi.

Hawk

I

“Oh.” “This person here?” Hideyoshi solemnly proceeded to introduce him. “—Takenaka Hanbei Shigeharu.” “You are likely aware already, but he is the son of the lord of Bodaisan Castle in Mino Iwamura.” “Though he now serves both as this Chikuzen’s instructor in military strategy and as a member of my household, his position remains peculiar—assigned by Lord Nobunaga to the Hashiba family. Thus, I remain perpetually uneasy in my heart, for he may be recalled at any moment—a most troublesome retainer.” “In that sense, he is—so to speak—Lord Chikuzen’s unrivaled right hand.” “Ah, Kanbei—with you, we will surely share a bond that bares our very souls.” “Let us swear a bond that would see our necks severed!”

When Hideyoshi’s words ended, Hanbei Shigeharu turned quietly for the first time and offered his greeting to one meeting him anew. His voice, unlike Hideyoshi’s, was as weighty as bamboo thickets whispering on a snowy night, and his words were devoid of any superfluity. And within that single bow lay a discernible modesty and a gleam of intellect. “Ah—you are Lord Hanbei.” “I was remiss.” “I—” Kanbei hurriedly returned the bow. While conversing with Hideyoshi, he had not felt such self-deprecation; yet toward Hanbei, for some reason, he could not help but harbor it distinctly. In all honesty, my being a country samurai was indeed my shortcoming. Yet I knew full well there was no condescending arrogance in his attitude toward such matters.

Even so, he felt as though he were witnessing something inconceivable—that a man of such caliber would willingly serve within the Hashiba household. When speaking of Takenaka Shigeharu—son of Bodaisan Castle in Mino—he was a prodigious talent long renowned throughout the world of military scholars, to the extent that none remained unaware of his name. In a sense, when it came to renown, Hanbei Shigeharu might have been more famed than even Hashiba Hideyoshi—a general of the Oda household. In his youth—so Kanbei had heard—he had spent much time in the capital. He would mostly practice Zen meditation at Daitoku-ji, yet upon receiving word of battle from his home province, he would gallop to the front with a crack of his whip—only to return to his meditation mat once the fighting ceased. Such tales of him had become fodder for stories in the capital.

On days when he was on the battlefield, clad in coarse black-lacquered armor with Tora Gozen’s greatsword laid at his side, "If this young lord takes the vanguard position, he imparts an indescribable gravity upon the entire army, strengthening the resolve of every soldier down to the lowest ranks—" This was not only the consensus within the household but also a widely held reputation among the general populace. His erudition in military science was counted among the foremost of his time; when he fought, he was decisive; when he defended, he was solemn; his magnanimity was like the rivers and seas, and his divine strategies in warfare were so highly esteemed that he was even hailed as a reincarnation of Kongming and Kusunoki—such was this warrior.

Hideyoshi had been foremost among those ardent admirers. It was a story too widely known even among the populace—how he, while still at Sumo Castle and having only just acquired his first fortress and narrow territory, made dozens of visits to the hermitage on Kurihara Mountain where Hanbei Shigeharu lived in seclusion, urging him to emerge and join his cause despite the strategist’s youth. This was likened to the Three Visits Ritual of ancient China, where Liu Xuande knocked upon Kongming’s hermitage door,

(Hashiba Chikuzen’s fervor had finally drawn Hanbei the Sleeping Dragon into his own camp.) There were those who said as much. In any case, in this Sengoku period, no matter had ever stirred such fervent discussion among martial circles as this. The sole regret was that heaven, for reasons unknown, had denied a man of Takenaka Hanbei’s stature a robust physique. He had borne a sickly constitution since his youth. This alone drew widespread lament—and Hideyoshi himself appeared to exercise extraordinary caution in his presence, as though tending to a fragile treasure kept perpetually at arm’s reach.

Kuroda Kanbei had long heard rumors of the hardships endured in Chūgoku's remote reaches, but he had vaguely imagined—and then forgotten without meaning to—their full extent. Now, he recalled all prior assessments at once—and it was precisely from the moment he came face-to-face with that man tonight that the solemn weight of his existence and character compelled him to straighten his collar.

II “The bath preparations are ready.” Taking the page’s announcement as their cue, “Ah! So it is… What say you, Kanbei? Let the page guide you—won’t you come bathe?” Without even hearing his visitor’s purpose, Hideyoshi assumed the manner of one entertaining a long-term guest and pressed onward. “Come now—no better summer feast exists than a hot bath. Wash off your sweat and don a yukata… The night is brief, but afterward we’ll move chambers and share a meal. What—have you already taken supper before coming? Though it may seem excessive, this Lord Chikuzen has in truth eaten but half his meal. I awoke from an evening nap and had barely begun dining when you called—so I left my tray half-cleared and had it removed. Well now—conversation flows best after sharing a drink. At any rate—go soak yourself thoroughly!”

As if oblivious to the lateness of the hour, Hideyoshi pressed urgently and retreated briefly to a private chamber with Hanbei. The page urged him onward from behind toward the bath chamber. Kanbei had no choice but to follow. His heart still lacked the composure needed to leisurely enjoy a bath.—How should he broach the matter weighing on him? When should he raise it? Even as he sought the right moment, this turn of events left him unable to shake the feeling that he had missed his opportunity.

Kinugasa Kyūzaemon, who had been waiting in another room—no doubt anxious about how the conversation had gone—turned his face from a chamber and watched with evident concern as his master Kanbei followed the page across the long corridor.

An Evening Discourse with My Lord

I

At the hour when both people and stable horses had sunk into deep sleep, in this one room there—where candlelight was renewed—they shared their cups as if to say, "Now then, let us begin," in the depths of night.

With his skin refreshingly cool after the bath and his clothes changed, Kanbei—the guest—seemed reborn, drinking freely as was his custom and speaking without reserve. Hideyoshi loved sake, and Takenaka Hanbei indulged moderately. Moreover, though it was a three-person gathering with Kanbei, in quantity he far surpassed the two hosts.

Summer nights were short. Particularly when men who seemed destined to meet opened their hearts to each other, discussed ideals, confronted reality, and shared the joy of being born in that era—their fervor did not wane even as they talked through the night. “To reiterate humbly—no matter how you proceed with your grand design, what is called ‘the matter of unifying the realm’ cannot be achieved unless Chūgoku is first pacified.” “While the formidable might of the Mōri clan tenaciously holds sway over both land and sea west of Settsu, even should Lord Nobunaga raise his banners in the central plains of Kyoto and sweep away the Ashikaga shogunate and all remnants of the old regime’s corruption from their very roots; even should he subjugate every last resistant daimyō in Kinai one by one; even should he secure stability in Tōkai; even should he annihilate every powerful warlord in Kōyama—ultimately, none of this could be deemed sufficient.” “Even the ideals you hold cannot be realized.” “Ultimately, everything hinges on how the pacification of Chūgoku is achieved.” “...And now that the Mōri clan has allied with Ishiyama Hongan-ji, and their Hongan-ji faction’s resistance takes myriad forms—igniting anti-Nobunaga rebellions wherever their faithful dwell in Kinai, Ise, or Hokuriku at the slightest opportunity—is this not all the more true?” “Attacking Nagashima, attacking Hokuriku—all are mere trifles.” “Why do you not strike radically at Hongan-ji—those puppet masters—and resolve to launch a full-scale campaign against Chūgoku?... I find it utterly vexing.”

In conversations over sake, the more engrossed they became, the more they tended to digress into trivial matters or veer off into other topics. The words Kanbei had spoken—more than mere fragments of his innermost thoughts—were by no means delivered in a single breath. He had gauged his counterpart’s reactions and timed his words between cups, managing through several exchanges to convey only the essential points.

That said, it was not at all the case that Hideyoshi failed to lend an ear to the matter. Hideyoshi was, if anything, more adept at listening than speaking himself. He listened attentively to others’ opinions. He listened to Kanbei’s words with enthusiasm evident on his face. However, his responses were largely passive compared to Kanbei’s fervor.

“Of course, the Chūgoku matter cannot be neglected.” “I myself have long considered this, and with Lord Nobunaga’s piercing vision, there is no chance he would neglect plans for the future.” “But truth be told, the Oda clan’s neighbors are too embroiled in conflicts—campaigning in Ise in prior years, fighting the great battle of Nagashino this past May, with no respite for men or horses before immediately preparing to march on Hokuriku.” “Yet these troubles at hand stem neither from Oda weakness nor flawed strategies.” “In essence, like all of us here, the Oda clan’s endeavors remain youthful.” “Just think—the clan as you know it only took shape after Okehazama.” “At that time, our lord was but twenty-five. Now at forty-two, Lord Nobunaga’s achievements span a mere seventeen years—seventeen years to rise from an Owari Kiyosu retainer to sweeping Kyoto’s corruption clean, demonstrating loyalty surpassing even the Muromachi shogunate’s heyday... Such speed leaves even us retainers awestruck at accomplishing what others couldn’t in lifetimes.” “Thus roughness in execution is inevitable.” “Such haste naturally leaves loose ends.” “Honestly speaking—Chūgoku remains beyond our grasp.” “Current affairs must take precedence.” “Even were we to push through Chūgoku swiftly as before, we now face a true power—a foe unlike any prior.”

In summary, Hideyoshi’s response to him amounted to this. He would not take a more proactive stance than that. The sake was fine, and he deemed his companion a man worth speaking to—yet on this point, Kanbei remained dissatisfied.

II “It won’t suffice. If you stick to such conventional methods, it will eventually become too late.” His tone began to take on a hint of vehemence. Of course, in Kanbei’s case, the vigor from having already emptied a flask of sake must have played its part. The sake cup never left his indignant lips.

“What do you mean—it won’t be in time?”

Hideyoshi laughed. It had been a sudden feint of ignorance that left Kanbei disarmed. “Are you unaware? The Mōri faction’s military might was not forged overnight. You must understand it exceeds all imagination.” “I know.” “Scattered allies cling to Settsu, Yamashiro, Izumi—but venture into Harima Province. Those weighing allegiance to Oda or Mōri likely number no more than this Kuroda Kanbei. They are Mōri partisans to a man.”

“Hmm.” “That would be the case.” “Setting aside land for now—from the Seto Inland Sea through all of Settsu Province to Osaka’s estuary—which domain controls the seas?” “Is it not the Mōri clan?” “They maintain hundreds of warships and over a thousand transports, ceaselessly moving between Naniwa and Senshū while coordinating with Ishiyama Hongan-ji. Yet I have heard no reports of the Oda clan possessing even one warship or naval unit.” At that moment, Hideyoshi made a thoroughly displeased face. Two creases formed between his eyebrows. He seemed precisely the sort of man who would occasionally reveal such bitterness.

Kanbei, ever perceptive, immediately set his cup down and seized the moment for silence. Had Takenaka Hanbei not chuckled softly beside them during that moment, a palpable rift might have split between host and guest, leaving the atmosphere beyond repair. “...Kanbei.” Hideyoshi also began to smile wryly. Takenaka Hanbei’s chuckle reeled him in, and he found himself laughing almost against his will. “I’ve had quite enough sake already.”

Kanbei deliberately gave an irrelevant answer and feigned ignorance, “No, drink up. ...But Kanbei,” “Yes.” “Don’t speak too much of the truth.” “What do you mean?” “As expected, you are indeed nine years younger than this Chikuzen.” “Is not the very reason the Oda clan stands where it does today—and the greater strength it will require henceforth—rooted in that youthful vigor and those dreams?”

He suddenly felt at ease. It was because he had been deemed still young. At the same time, his tone took on a somewhat petulant edge, and perhaps Hideyoshi grew slightly annoyed,

“Now drink.” “Once you’ve attended to all matters through an audience with Lord Nobunaga-sama, then we may properly discuss them.” “Chikuzen remains but one general who acts solely at Lord Nobunaga’s command.” “...Should we receive permission from the castle tomorrow itself, I would take you up to Gifu Castle—together we might stand before our lord and hold further counsel.”

Hideyoshi placated him sufficiently. From that point onward，their conversation no longer touched upon military or political matters whatsoever. For Kanbei，who had staked the fate of his lord’s house—the Kodera family—overcome many objections，and even bid farewell to his father，wife，and children with the resolve that he might never see them again，this passion and sacrifice burned within his heart. Naturally，Kanbei was filled with the desire to lay bare all these matters as well，but crucially，Hideyoshi carried himself as though the allegiance of a minor house like the Kodera was ultimately inconsequential. Feeling it ignoble to impose his brooding thoughts upon such indifference，he too refrained from pressing further and simply continued refilling their cups.

“If you were to meet him even tomorrow, you would surely perceive Lord Nobunaga’s dignity—though our lord favors revelry, and when partaking in drink, he often bids his pages perform kouta dances while himself murmuring improvised verses.” “Kanbei, what arts do you possess?” At Hideyoshi’s diversionary talk, Kanbei grew faintly impatient, “I can perform kouta dances. “I can perform monkey dances.” He answered with a derisive smirk. Then Hideyoshi, “Now there’s a deft man.” “How about giving us a dance?”

and gave his own folding fan.

“I must decline here—” Kanbei refused, waving his hand. Then he turned to the page drowsily waiting in the corner, requested an inkstone box, and finished inscribing something on the fan. “My Lord, you should be the one to perform a chant.” And he returned it to Hideyoshi’s hand.

Receiving the riposte with a wry smile, Hideyoshi leaned from his armrest toward the candlelight, angling the white fan as he read: "The deeper night drinks Sake’s amber glow— Words exchanged reveal Men’s true mettle."

Declaring the night too brief, Someone declares, An inexhaustible spring— the sake cup—

“Hanbei.” “Inscribe something on the back of this.”

Adroitly deflecting, Hideyoshi entrusted it to Takenaka Hanbei. Hanbei took up the brush and turned to the reverse side,

“One evening’s discourse with you Surpasses reading ten years of books” Having written this, “As it was my lord’s command, I could not help but defile it.”

he said, presenting it.

Having suddenly picked it up, Kuroda Kanbei—his eyes fixed intently—gradually dispelled the alcohol's haze from his gaze, gently placed the still-damp white fan back down, then pressed his hands together respectfully as he addressed Hanbei: "Thank you."

He lowered his head.

With a smile flickering like ripples from a deep abyss at the corners of his eyes, Takenaka Shigeharu slid both hands forward from his knees and said, “If anyone should be grateful, it is I.”

With that, he slid both hands from his knees.

Dawn had already broken. In the depths of the temple quarters, the bell for morning prayers was ringing, and near the temple gate at the front, the horses in the stable were neighing.

III

Since his business at Gifu Castle was concluded, Hideyoshi had apparently planned to return immediately to Kōdani Castle, but he delayed for two days on Kanbei’s account and, once permission arrived from Nobunaga, promptly accompanied him to attend court. The audience with Nobunaga was not formal. As secret envoys, they met in utmost secrecy within a single room. Nobunaga, who was forty-two years old that year, was truly regarded as youthful. He looked younger than Hideyoshi. The room held only three people, and despite the sweltering midday heat, their audience stretched beyond four hours.

Kanbei expounded. He expounded on the urgency of conquering the Chūgoku region from every conceivable angle. He expounded without a shred of ornamentation or sophistry—with nothing but pure sincerity. His passion transformed into an eloquence surpassing even his own expectations, reaching a state where he no longer concerned himself with whether his listener was nobleborn or not. "—If Your Lordship were to dispatch a single commander now and undertake the great task of subjugating Chūgoku, even those like Kajiwara of Akashi Castle and Takasago Castle in eastern Harima—though nominally under Mōri's command—would surely prostrate themselves before your overwhelming majesty." "Lord Kushihashi Sakyo of Shikata Castle is fortunately connected to my house by marriage; I shall most certainly bring him to our side." "Bessho Nagaharu of Miki Castle alone will obstinately refuse to yield." "In western Harima as well, Fukuhara of Sayo Castle and the Kōzuki clan of Kōzuki Castle are likely allied with Bessho Nagaharu in service to the Mōri... Yet among these castles both great and small, Himeji Castle—occupying the most vital position—has already sworn before Your Lordship to serve as your vanguard. Therefore, even should complications arise with those enemy factions, it would be no empty boast to say they pose no true threat." "Naturally, Himeji Castle alone stands ready to be offered for this purpose." "Should Your Lordship deign to use it as a base for the Chūgoku campaign, I shall immediately present it for your use."

Nobunaga was candidly pleased. His meticulousness left no room to doubt Kanbei’s sincerity and fervor. “Very well—I shall see to it without fail,” he said. “Himeji Castle will surely prove of great use in the near future. Until that day comes, keep it in your care.” “As a token of your service.” He personally took the famed sword Heshikiri that lay at his side and presented it to Kanbei. The origin of this sword would later be recorded in the *Kuroda Family Treasures and Traditions* as follows.

The blade was crafted by Hasebe Kunishige, measuring two shaku, one sun, and four bu (approximately 64.8 cm). When Lord Nobunaga ordered the execution of a man called Kannaishū for misconduct, Kannaishū—terrified—hid beneath a kitchen shelf. His Lordship thrust his blade beneath the shelf to crush him, yet felt no resistance as the edge pierced through, killing Kannaishū. It is said this incident bestowed the blade its name—Heshikiri.— “Return to Chūgoku for now and await my orders.” “When the time comes, I shall surely send word.” With Nobunaga’s pledge and the Heshikiri blade in hand, Kanbei withdrew from the castle for the time being. The castle grounds and town were once again teeming with various generals and their soldiers and horses on this day. Niwa, Takigawa, Shibata, Sassa, Akechi, Maeda—all these illustrious figures seemed to be among them, but Kanbei spoke to no one save Hideyoshi.

“I too am satisfied,” said Hideyoshi. “With this, you’ve emerged from the abyss and stand at the storm’s edge. Take utmost care of yourself henceforth, Crouching Dragon.” Hideyoshi shared in his joy, then declared he would depart that very day for northern Ōmi. He urged Kanbei to visit Kōdani Castle for a few days’ respite before leaving. “I shall accompany you part of the way,” Kanbei replied. Having procured horses, Kuroda Kanbei and Kinugasa Kyūzaemon joined the Hashiba retinue, traveling with them as far as Nagahama.

Upon arriving in Nagahama, Hideyoshi visited Niwa Gorōzaemon there and borrowed two boats, “Rather than taking the hot land route through day’s heat,” he said, “we should pass through the lake’s heart by night and reach Ōtsu.” “The moon favors us—as Lord Chikuzen, I’ll enjoy the cool while seeing you off partway.” With that declaration, he loaded one vessel with cooks and retainers while boarding the other with only Kanbei and himself, then cast off from shore at twilight’s edge.

Just as the moon reached its zenith, Kuroda Kanbei and Hashiba Hideyoshi’s boat arrived at the heart of Lake Biwa. They drank sake, admired the moon, spoke of the future, and stayed up late into the night. Eventually boarding separate boats as they prepared to part ways—when they looked back at each other across the waves and waved farewell—Kuroda Kanbei tasted tears on his cheeks for the first time in his life. For some reason, tears flowed.

With death as his pillow,

I Araki Murashige’s position in Settsu now held crucial significance. With Itami as his main stronghold, he connected Amagasaki Castle and Hana no Kuma Castle in Hyōgo, forming a three-castle chain line that blocked traffic between Chūgoku and Osaka and strictly monitored communications between the Hongan-ji Temple and other anti-Nobunaga elements with the Mōri clan. Moreover, should the day come when Nobunaga were to issue an order to campaign in Chūgoku, it would also become the foremost frontline base for Oda forces—a strategic salient.

From this, it became clear how highly Nobunaga valued Murashige’s martial prowess and trusted in the unyielding man’s integrity.

“Well, if it isn’t Kanbei.” “What brings you here?” “How abrupt.”

Araki Murashige promptly met with Kanbei upon receiving his visit but wore an expression of profound bewilderment. The location was none other than the main keep of Itami Castle—renamed Arioka Castle by Murashige—but the castle interior felt vaguely tumultuous, with soldiers prepared for deployment packed into the muster area and dashing about through gateways and corridors.

Kanbei offered a perfunctory greeting and then,

“I hear Your Lordship will soon march north to Hokuriku.” “That’s right.” “With Lord Nobunaga himself taking the field this time, we likely won’t return to our lands until we’ve rooted out every last Ikkō sect rebel in Hokuriku and crushed those factions dancing to Uesugi Kenshin’s tune.” He had a comely attendant pour sake, drained his cup in one gulp, then thrust it toward Kanbei. “It’s been too long—tell me, does that lord of yours, Kodera Masataka, still dither about like an old woman?” A sneer curled at the corner of his lips as he spoke.

In his demeanor, two things could be sensed: a boastful pride in his current authority, and a touch of pity for the folly and incompetence of one who still clung to a mere corner of Harima Province. “Yes.” “Lord Masataka remains in good health for now.” Kanbei wiped the rim of the cup with ceremonial paper and returned it reverently to Murashige as he answered truthfully. Yet inwardly, he saw Murashige’s attitude as pitiable—judging him a man even more narrow-minded and petty than the cup itself.

The main house of the Kodera family and the Araki family had maintained a longstanding relationship through various connections. Therefore, Kanbei was well acquainted with both his conduct and the circumstances that had led to this day. Murashige had originally been nothing more than a subordinate of Ikeda Katsumasa of Ikeda. Though he had belonged to the Miyoshi faction, when Nobunaga led his forces into Kyoto to expel Ashikaga Yoshiaki from the capital, Murashige suddenly joined the Oda army in the street battles with a mere four hundred men under his command. In the fighting between Honkoku-ji and Shichijō Dōjō (Kinkō-ji), he demonstrated astonishingly daring feats. This 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, Nobunaga—whether in his customary drunken revelry or with deliberate intent to test Murashige’s mettle—impaled a manjū bun on the tip of his drawn sword, (Settsu. Will you eat this or not?) Nobunaga said. Then Murashige opened his mouth wide and stepped forward, *(I humbly partake.)* There is a story that he bit into the manjū bun impaled on the sword’s tip and ate it—or so it goes. In any case, such behavior, as seen by Nobunaga,

*(He is useful.)* This incident appeared to have been one factor in his subsequent promotion and trust. Even so, compared to his days as a subordinate of the Ikeda family, it was truly an extraordinary rise. Even now, on the eve of his campaign, he sat flanked by handsome young attendants, listening to military reports from senior retainers over drinks while issuing approvals one by one—a man in his prime, unchanged in demeanor. When he questioned Kanbei about his purpose and heard it, he laughed so uproariously he could barely contain himself. “Are you calling me a spy?” “Do you presume to name me a schemer?” “Ahaha! This is the most amusing matter I’ve encountered in recent days.” “That a petty schemer’s spy like yourself has received Hazuchi—the renowned blade His Lordship always keeps at hand—must surely rouse profound suspicion.” “For verification, would you care to inspect it?”

“I have been granted the esteemed sword Hazuchi.” “Wh-where…?” “I’ve placed it in the adjacent chamber.” “Was I truly granted this?” “To receive such a cherished blade requires extraordinary military feats.” “That this honor would be bestowed upon a mere provincial retainer—how could you respond? You, Kanbei, must find this impossible to forget.” “Hmm...” — Murashige crossed his arms grandly. Though he had nearly discerned Kanbei’s purpose, he could not help but consider Hashiba Hideyoshi’s hand in this affair.

“—Though my lord Kodera Masataka and Gochaku’s modest castle may appear insignificant within our entire allied forces’ view, until now these three fortresses—Itami, Amagasaki, and Hanakuma—had formed the front line connecting to Chūgoku. But henceforth, under Oda’s banner, we shall establish a spearhead and strategic base deep within enemy territory at Harima’s Himeji and Gochaku.” “To speak grandly, this shall serve as the initial foothold for achieving great deeds in Chūgoku.” “In this significance, I humbly pray you too, Lord Settsu-no-kami, might find cause for rejoicing.” “...Though I considered this somewhat presumptuous, it stems from our Kodera and Araki families’ necessity to unite wholeheartedly under shared allegiance and purpose. Thus while journeying homeward, I sought this honor of an audience to bring these matters to your attention.”

——Immediately, he slid all the way along the seat and bent forward, “I apologize for intruding during your busy schedule.” “Then, I shall take my leave now.”

With that, he took up the scabbard of the Hazuchi sword he had placed in the adjacent chamber and briskly withdrew from Itami Castle with one hand. And whenever he recalled Murashige’s expression afterward, he would occasionally offer a wry smile.

II

After his departure, Gochaku Castle enveloped two kinds of sentiments—those who secretly wished he would not return alive and those who prayed for his safety—and passed the summer with an outward air of nonchalance.

Defying the expectations of seventy percent of the castle’s inhabitants, Kuroda Kanbei returned in a much healthier state than when he had departed.

“I dare say negotiations with Gifu have concluded most favorably.” He immediately relayed every particular to Lord Masataka. He then gave a thorough account to the clan elders and other key figures among their vassals.

But even at that very meeting, Masuda Magoemon, Murakai Kawachi, and others of the opposition faction spoke in unison, “We alone provided verbal commitments—what written pledge did you bring back from the Oda clan?” “What could mere words and promises amount to in this turbulent land?” “Moreover, even though the Oda army will not immediately advance into Chūgoku, you propose this premature pledge of allegiance—what do you intend to do if Oda should suffer defeat in their current Hokuriku campaign?”

The denunciations still raged on. On that point, a look of unease could still be discerned on Masataka’s face. However, Kanbei’s resolve had redoubled since meeting Nobunaga and Hideyoshi, and he showed no sign of heeding those numerous petty criticisms. “Please leave this matter to me.” “Regarding this matter, did you not solemnly swear before my departure to entrust everything to this unworthy Kanbei?” “As Kanbei, I believe without doubt that this mission has sufficiently proven its merit.” “You voice dissatisfaction over why I did not bring back a written pledge from the Oda clan—but when we have yet to demonstrate even a fragment of loyalty through tangible fruits or deeds for the Oda, how could Lord Oda possibly grant us such a pledge so cheaply? Forgive my bluntness, but should I call you frogs in a well? When comparing your own standing and capabilities to the central political climate and the Oda clan’s power, you seem to labor under an illusion far too self-centered.”

Having admonished them thus, he concluded, “Henceforth, it is clear that our esteemed house stands as one fortress under Oda’s command. While outward dealings with the Mōri may be unavoidable, internally, the two factions must refrain from further disputes.” “I trust our lord will not forget that he now occupies a crucial position under Lord Oda’s command in Chūgoku, biding his time.” he solemnly declared.

However, within a few days, dozens of retainers abruptly vanished from Gochaku Castle. All were deserters, and that all had fled to Mōri territory was evident without investigation. Therefore, no matter how they tried to keep it secret, the fact that he had carried out his mission and finally bound their liege house, the Kodera family, to the Oda clan became utterly exposed to their enemy Mōri Terumoto. The surrounding castles, suddenly spurred into action, began closely watching this single fortress.

What had become most dangerous was Kanbei’s very life. Not all who leaned toward the Mōri faction had deserted the castle. Even among Gochaku’s elders and clan members lingered anti-Nobunaga elements, with no small number secretly aiding Mōri. Even in sleep, he could not lower his guard. Each night found him resting his head upon death itself. Thereafter, through autumn into early winter, the Oda army poured its full strength into conquering Hokuriku, leaving not a moment to spare for Chūgoku. To compound matters, Mōri now deemed Gochaku and Himeji apostates—

The Mōri faction, deeming this “a critical matter that cannot be ignored,” reasoned that if they were to strike, now—while Nobunaga remained preoccupied elsewhere—was precisely the time. Swiftly loading over a dozen warships with troops from Yoshida in Aki Province, they advanced from the coastal areas near Himeji. This landing was carried out on a moonless night in the spring of Tenshō 4 (1576), following the turn of the year. Upon receiving word by swift horse, a small force from Himeji Castle rushed to defend in haste, but being no match for the elite Mōri troops, they were swiftly repelled. When morning came, thick plumes of battle smoke rose from one end of Himeji’s streets, and the figures of Mōri vanguard soldiers fighting their way through every crossroads could be seen everywhere—the entire castle town now lay shrouded in peril.

Iron Wall

I That morning’s disturbance in Himeji—Kanbei, who was at Gochaku Castle, learned of it the moment he awoke.

The lookout who had stood all night atop the watchtower hurriedly came running down,

“There appears to be unusual smoke in Himeji’s sky—” The report came before dawn’s first swift horse had knocked at the castle gate. “Good!” “Keep watching.” “Report any anomalies at once.” He opened his armor chest and donned his inherited dark-blue-laced cuirass while striding toward the samurai quarters to rally his trusted men. “Morita Tahei—present?” “Kuriyama Zensuke, Inoue Kurō—here? Gotō Emon too.” “If Miyata, Nagata, Mihara, Kitamura aren’t at their posts—summon them all to the wide veranda.”

They answered one after another and rose. They scattered and ran off. In an instant, thirteen or fourteen of his handpicked stalwarts gathered on the veranda.

“They’re here at last!” Kanbei smiled with his usual morning composure while fastening his armor cords. “The swift rider from my father Sōen in Himeji reports Mōri forces number two to three thousand. The enemy landed craftily by sea before dawn—a full surprise attack. Though Himeji’s town burns, Father writes the Himeyama compound stands undaunted despite its size, urging us not to fret. In daily affairs I thought age had weakened him, but in crisis, his boldness still outshines even mine.”

After letting out a cheerful laugh, he briskly issued swift and clear commands to each of his retainers one by one, then immediately turned on his heel and dashed to his lord Kodera Masataka’s chambers.

II

Not only were Ogawa Mikawanokami of the clan, senior retainer Kuramitsu Masatoshi, Masuda Magouemon, and other members from factions normally at odds with Kanbei already packed around Masataka, but even those below him were all armed—which caused Kanbei to look surprised, (How did these people learn of this emergency before I did?)

Though he was naturally suspected, when Kanbei looked into his eyes, Masataka’s gaze clearly revealed a confusion and self-reproach that served as an answer—a clear implication Kanbei could not overlook. (My intuition wasn’t wrong—) Kanbei, having faith in his own judgment, immediately issued commands there as well, exactly as he saw fit. “Masuda Magouemon, Murakami Kawachi, Eda Zenbei.” “Each of you—lead your forces at once and rush to Himeji’s aid.” “Kuramitsu Masatoshi—guard the inner bailey as befits your age.” “Lord Yoshichika—exit the castle and oversee communications with Himeji Road.” “All others have already received orders from my men and been stationed accordingly.” “Show no negligence.” “Make haste immediately!”

Then Sue Yoshichika indignantly refused the command. “What nonsense are you spouting, Lord Chief Retainer? How could we veteran generals abandon our lord’s side? We shall guard both the castle gates and our sovereign’s person. Let others reinforce Himeji.” “There are none.” “What did you say?” “Kanbei cannot leave my lord’s side even for an instant. Even counting all Gochaku Castle’s troops, they number less than a thousand. Excluding those under my command—where else in this castle would you find an army, save by appointing noble lords as generals and captains as lieutenants?”

“Why do you yourself not take command at the front?” “Himeji is also where your father Lord Sōen serves as castellan and defends it.” “Within this castle as well, there are many subordinates under the sway of you and your father.” This was a statement that could not have been made unless by someone like Ogawa Mikawanokami of the clan. However, with a face that showed no trace of intimidation, Kuroda Kanbei answered thus. “The matter is urgent.” “The castle gate defenses—my men have already taken their positions, and I have personally stationed guards at every key point of this main keep.” “My life is my lord’s command.” “My 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.” “Dare I ask—who among you would disrupt military discipline in today’s battle?” “State your names!” “Resolutely, I shall execute.”

They all fell silent. Yet the battle surrounding Kanbei remained as fierce—if not fiercer—than the one outside the castle, as though it were raging there itself.

Whether he sensed those around him—seemingly poised to exploit any opening—or not, Kanbei sternly delivered his words and took another step forward until he stood before Masataka. “In the open courtyard beneath the keep, we have set up camp stools and surrounded the area with battle curtains.” “The hatamoto’s security measures are fully in place.” “Please move your seat swiftly to the command post prepared there.” He urged—or rather, took his lord’s hand and guided him through sharp gazes on either side until they exited into the courtyard.

III

Loud shouts were constantly being issued from the watchtower above. They were relaying moment-by-moment updates about the Himeji front to those below.

By this time, the sun had finally broken through the morning clouds, faintly tingeing the view. In the courtyard’s command post, Muroki Saihachi—a samurai lieutenant—and Captain Imazu Gendayu had taken up positions with about fifty castle soldiers to secure it; to this post, those suspected of secretly supporting the so-called Mōri faction were almost completely barred from approaching. Moreover, under Kanbei’s command, veteran generals such as Kuramitsu Masatoshi, Masuda Magouemon, and Murakami Kawachi—allies who were colluding with the Mōri faction—had been forcibly sent outside the castle. To each of these dangerous allies, Kanbei had previously assigned bold men like his trusted retainers Morita Tahei and Kuriyama Zensuke to their units, instructing that if they took any suspicious actions, [the retainers] were to immediately cross blades with those commanders and die.

“Now then, the securing of our own ranks is complete—” Kanbei stood outside the battle curtains of the command post, holding a brown rice ball distributed by the logistics unit, and devoured it. When he thought back on it, the first hour of this dawn had indeed been a truly perilous situation, and he now let out a sigh of relief.

"No no—it’s still too soon to relax. The battle is truly about to begin," he immediately admonished himself inwardly. Finishing his meal by picking up stray rice grains with lips and fingers, he stood when Gotō Uemon—the trusted retainer he'd dispatched at dawn to reconnoiter the mountains—returned clutching a horsewhip, sweat drenching his form.

Having delivered his report, he addressed Kanbei. “As you anticipated, approximately three hundred men—undoubtedly Bessho Nagaharu’s forces from Miki Castle—have infiltrated two ri north beyond your territory and now lie concealed in the forests and mountains there, awaiting nothing but a signal of internal cooperation from within Gochaku Castle.” “As for other areas along the western border near Ukita Castle, there appears to be no abnormality. However—even so—should they witness any disturbance such as smoke rising from this castle, how they might act is impossible to predict.”

“What of the follow-up measures?” “In accordance with your command, Kitamura Rokuei has led one hundred fifty soldiers to monitor the movements of the Miki forces; Nagata Sansuke has taken seventy men to vigilantly guard the other borders; and Mihara Hayato has stationed foot soldiers along the route to maintain communication.”

“Good!” “You stand here.” “Guard the command post.”

Kanbei turned and climbed up to the watchtower himself. That morning, he moved as though even multiple bodies would not suffice for his tasks. Standing there and gazing toward Himeji, he saw black smoke billowing so thickly it dimmed the morning sun. The northern mountains lay under a clear sky deceptively free of turmoil, yet to his eyes, the truth lay plain as day—beneath those clouds, within the folded ridges and shadowed ravines, lurked enemies far more fearsome than those outside. In Harima Province, none rivaled the Bessho Nagaharu clan entrenched in Miki Castle's northern fastness as Mōri's most formidable open allies. This went without saying: the Mōri naval forces that had pressed against Himeji's shores under night's cover and finally landed now moved in concert with Miki's mountain troops—a meticulously coordinated assault from land and sea.

The enemy must have believed it would be a quick rout. They must have thought capturing Gochaku Castle would not take even half a day.

For not only did this castle possess such meager forces and defenses, but there were also influential Mōri collaborators within—rendering an external assault unnecessary. How is Father at Himeyama faring? And Matsuchiyo is still so young. Whenever he looked up at the sky thick with the black smoke of battle, even he could not help but think of his elderly father’s circumstances and the safety of his wife and children. And he worried about the desperate struggle of his household members and retainers there.

When he descended from the watchtower, he came face to face with Kinugasa Kyūzaemon the moment he stepped down. Of course, Kyūzaemon had come galloping from Himeji. Finding this unexpected, Kanbei asked reproachfully.

“Why have you abandoned Himeji? The battle there must be raging now. If they breach those defenses, this place too will face imminent peril. But your place to die should not be here.” “No—Lord Sōen deemed Gochaku to be in peril while Himeji remains secure. Under his fierce command, I spurred on to report the battle’s progress and observe this castle’s circumstances.” “Tell Father there is no need for concern here. Kanbei is Sōen’s son.”

“Understood.”

“Go! Go! This place is as you’ve seen. It is impregnable.”

“Understood!” “In that case.”

As he was about to leave, Kanbei called out to stop him again. “Are the townspeople unit members also active? Is Iguchi Yojirōemon of Reishukō also unharmed?” “They are all fighting fiercely.” “I see. Then, that should suffice for now.”

Seeing him nod, Kinugasa Kyūzaemon turned back toward Himeji.

IV

The attack on Himeji launched by Ura Hyōbu-no-jō, a commander of the Mōri naval forces, succeeded in landing but ended in a crushing defeat in battle.

The street fighting continued into the night. Moreover, they remained confined to a corner of the city, their advance utterly halted. Not only did Kuroda Sōen of Himeyama, bearing his aged bones, personally take up frontline command, but his men—all strong and well-trained—now threw themselves recklessly at the enemy to repay the daily benevolence they had received. The Mōri forces were first stunned by this ferocious hostility, but what plunged them into deeper struggle was their failure to recognize that Himeji’s castle town possessed an entirely different nature from others.

The moment they came under attack by enemy forces, all the townspeople transformed into soldiers—preventing fires, evacuating the elderly and children, and grasping whatever makeshift weapons they could find to confront the Mōri forces—and when this unforeseen fighting force clashed with them, even Ura Hyōbu-no-jō, for the first time, thought: *What is this?* [He] was thrown into utter disarray. Iguchi Yojirōemon—who hung the *Reishukō* eye medicine sign in town—had in an instant cast off his usual shopkeeper’s appearance, transforming into a veteran commander of the so-called “townspeople unit” and displaying a warrior’s bearing reminiscent of bygone days.

In addition, dozens of others like him lived throughout the town. Indeed, they were not only in the merchant quarters but also in the fishing villages along the shore. Though they lacked any formal naval organization such as ship crews or naval forces to speak of, one contingent of the “shore people” released countless fishing boats under cover of night, approached the Mōri vessels anchored offshore with ropes tied together, set them ablaze, and burned them down. With only sailors and provisions handlers left aboard the ships, the battlefield there was completely overrun by Kuroda’s “shore people.” A few of the vessels burned and sank, while the remaining ships fled in frantic disarray far out to sea.

Needless to say, the fires at sea had utterly demoralized Ura Hyōbu-no-jō’s forces on land. The rout began at this very moment. Scattered into disarray, Ura’s forces had no choice but to flee toward the highway leading to Miki Castle. But by then, Kuroda Kanbei himself—having departed Gochaku Castle—and his inner circle had already stationed elite troops in ambush at every strategic point. Whether on roads, fields, or forests, they intercepted the defeated enemy at every turn and nearly annihilated them all.

“...It’s done.” It was at dawn, after that long night had passed, that Sōen and Kanbei—father and son—heaved a deep sigh of relief and exchanged looks of reassurance filled with myriad emotions. “First, the immediate crisis has been averted.” “...but next time, the enemy will come with greater resolve.” “Please take your ease and rest.”

After offering just a few words to his elderly father, he immediately turned back toward Gochaku. Without seeing Matsuchiyo’s face, without confirming his wife’s safety, he departed.

Despite Gochaku Castle and the Himeji residence being separated by just over one ri, in this family, the wife saw her husband and the child met their father perhaps once every six months, if at all.

Two Design Plans

I From this New Year onward, Nobunaga had begun constructing Azuchi Castle. His civil engineering mirrored his warfare. The immense scale and innovative conception were not anyone else’s design but his own creation. He gathered collective wisdom only to transcend it, shattered Higashiyama-style conventions, and achieved grandeur so magnificent it captured the realm’s attention. Moreover, construction supervision proceeded with such urgency that day and night blurred together. Within less than a year since commencement, the framework had taken shape on a lakeside hill, while sprawling mulberry fields transformed into a new castle town.

The construction overseers were divided among Niwa Nagahide, Akechi Mitsuhide, and others. Today as well, he ascended from Kuwaijidera at the foothill and— “Is my residence not yet ready? At the very least, have them finish the seven stories of the castle keep with all haste.” With that, he impatiently urged them on while inspecting the site as though it were a battlefield. Niwa Gorōzaemon Nagahide, who always obediently guided him, could not remain composed either. “As you can see, we are pressing them to work night and day with all our strength.” He could only say.

Given that the seven-story keep on the castle tower base was the focal point of the entire structure, the construction there had to be carried out with utmost care, and Nobunaga’s specifications were exceedingly demanding. The first underground level was designated for storage. The second floor was supported by 280 pillars spanning twenty *ken* in frontage and seventeen *ken* in depth. 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, a three-tatami waiting area, and more. Transoms and wall partitions were fully lacquered, while sliding doors bore masterful paintings by Kano Eitoku and other renowned artists of the time—each bearing names befitting their artistry like the Goose Room, Hibiscus Room, Ink Plum Room, and Distant Temple Evening Bell Room.

As one ascended from the third-story tower to the fourth, fifth, and sixth levels, the number of rooms decreased, yet the craftsmanship grew ever more refined, evolving in aesthetic character with each successive floor. “Gorōzaemon.” “By New Year’s, we’ll drink Toso ceremonial sake here.” In the third-floor corridor—still lacking sliding doors—Nobunaga set up a camp stool and, already basking in the panoramic view of Seto, Hira, and the lake beyond, adopted a tone that pressed Nagahide for a concrete deadline. Nagahide too appeared overwhelmed, but—

“It will certainly be done by New Year’s—” he blurted out. “Though we speak of the New Year of Tenshō 5, it is already fast approaching.” “We too eagerly look forward to attending in the freshly timbered august hall and partaking in the New Year’s toast.” And so, he found himself pledging—without formally pledging—to complete it by that day. Of course, there was a reason Nobunaga pressed them so urgently. He had already transferred Gifu Castle to his eldest son, Nobutada, at the beginning of this November and moved to Kuwaijidera in Azuchi with only a few personal effects and a set of tea utensils. It was, so to speak, a meager dwelling—a rented room in a temple. He did not wish to spend the New Year at that temple, and in truth, he likely could not endure it.

Given this do-or-die pressure from above, Nagahide, as overseer, found that each time Nobunaga came to inspect—which he did frequently—the time spent attending to his lord’s entourage and guiding him around had become such a nuisance that it wasted precious time. However, today, opportunely,

“Lord Hashiba has arrived from Nagahama.” When an attendant appeared before his lord, seizing this good opportunity, he withdrew and left, exchanging a nod with Hashiba Hideyoshi who had arrived to take his place.

II

Last year, after concluding the Hokuriku campaign, Hashiba Hideyoshi had relocated from Odani Castle to Nagahama Castle. Embracing the great lake, Azuchi and Nagahama—lord and vassal—now stood upon the same shore. “Hideyoshi.” “When did you arrive?” “I’ve only just arrived.” “The construction has progressed remarkably.” “How fares Nagahama? Is it comfortable?” “It is more than I deserve.”

“I hear you’ve summoned your mother to the castle as well.” “They say you’re an unexpectedly filial son for your rough exterior.” “Being a country man myself, I’ve done nothing but marvel since moving to Nagahama.” “I imagined she’d be overjoyed, but truth be told, she goes about her days with something of a vexed look.” “I’ve brought a humble gift—produce from the fields my aged mother tends.” “Field produce?” “Yes. My peasant mother claims her health suffers if she neglects farming—so even after relocating to Nagahama, she tills plots within the castle grounds and grows all manner of crops.”

“Commendable indeed.” “I’ll gratefully accept it.” “Let me see it.” “Ah, no—since you were heading to the construction site, I left it in the care of Kuwaijidera’s kitchen.” “…Speaking of which,” And then, anew, he looked up at Nobunaga’s face. “There is a small matter I wish to discuss, My Lord…” “I see,” Nobunaga said, having grasped the intent, and immediately turned to the pages at his sides. “Go downstairs.”

and ordered the room cleared. “—Lord Chikuzen.” “What is it?” “Regarding Kuroda Kanbei of Chūgoku…” “Hm. That one?” “He appears to be in distress.” “In what way?”

“He appears to be under pressure from the Mōri clan, surrounded by the scheming of neighboring regions, and utterly isolated without support.” “That was to be expected from the start.” “Of course.” “However, he has written once more to lament that those who had schemed to decisively settle the broader situation through the westward advance of the Oda forces were instead preempted by the Mōri clan—resulting in Harima Province being fortified and granting the enemy time to prepare their defenses—a development he finds utterly regrettable.” “A demand for reinforcements?”

“In the midst of all this, I must say I am deeply impressed by how tenaciously he has held on.” “Once around February, and again in late May, the Mōri naval forces attempted to strike Himeji in a swift effort to eliminate internal opposition—but through the Kuroda father and son’s valiant efforts, they were repelled on both occasions.” “As I previously reported and as my lord has graciously bestowed a commendation upon them...” “So now they’ve finally come saying they can’t hold out any longer?” “Given that man’s strong reluctance to admit defeat, he does not state it outright—but unless troops are dispatched to Chūgoku with all haste, Harima Province will ultimately solidify into an impregnable stronghold under Mōri’s coercion and stratagems...”

“Ha ha ha ha…” Nobunaga burst out laughing, “He’s finally come wailing for aid.” “No—it’s only to be expected.” Hideyoshi tenaciously shielded their standing as father and son.

“From your esteemed house’s perspective, that lone stone remains the only ally in all Chūgoku—a realm where none exist but enemies.” “We must not let them perish.”

“However, we cannot deploy our great army to rescue Kanbei and his son.” “Chūgoku cannot be approached like building Azuchi.” “I understand your intention.” “Therefore, each time, I have diligently sent replies—the situation in Kinai remains inopportune.” “I have striven to console them by saying the opportune time will soon arrive, urging them to wait a little longer and endure—but if my lord would but bestow a single word of encouragement, I believe they, the father and son, would redouble their loyal efforts and fervently await the day of your westward advance.”

“I don’t deny that possibility, but after all, the Kuroda father and son are vassals of Kodera Masataka. I have heard that even within the Kodera family itself, there are those who still refuse to submit to him and secretly harbor sympathies for the Mōri clan. Moreover, their loyalty remains questionable. Should not the Kodera family send a hostage to our house before my written oath arrives?”

“That is correct.” “Your decree is most reasonable.” “If Your Lordship would promptly send a formal letter demanding the hostage, we will surely dispatch them.” “Come to the temple. Have them stew the vegetables your mother planted—we’ll share a drink and deliberate further.”

Nobunaga rose from his camp stool and descended the still-fragrant lacquered stairs ahead of the others.

Hostage

1 In Tenshō 5, after the New Year had passed, Nobunaga’s vermilion-sealed missive formally demanded a hostage from the Kodera family. As for Kanbei, since Hideyoshi had informed him in advance through a private letter about this matter, he had considered it inevitable; however, his lord Kodera Masataka— “What should I do?” Even when confronted with an issue of this nature, he would reveal his perplexity openly and seek counsel from his retainers. This stemmed partly from lingering resistance among his clan and senior retainers toward the alliance with the Oda house—but another reason lay in a father’s anguish over the Kodera family’s legitimate heir Ujimasa: a sickly and unworthy son unfit to be presented to society.

“There is no need for concern.” At the council meeting, Kanbei declared in his usual tone. “The matter of Lord Ujimasa’s frailty has already been brought to Lord Hashiba’s attention.” “Lord Nobunaga would surely never demand that you offer a sickly person.” “In place of your legitimate heir—I will send my own son Matsuchiyo. Though he is but ten years old this year—I shall offer him as hostage.” “By substituting Matsuchiyo for this purpose, you will assuredly have no cause for distress regarding this matter.”

His bold declarations were never empty words. The act of substituting his own son for his lord’s heir profoundly moved all those present. Even the senior retainers who always took an opposing stance—

“We deeply appreciate your resolve, Lord Kanbei—but if you would do so…” They unanimously agreed. Never before in Gochaku Castle had a council meeting reached such a swift and agreeable decision—Kanbei felt a bitter smile rise to his lips as he realized this. But Kanbei was no ordinary man. Despite his ready agreement, he did not immediately send the hostage. Since then, there had been several exchanges of letters between him and Hideyoshi. Of course, this was to secure a pledge for Lord Nobunaga’s immediate westward advance. Letters from Hideyoshi were always filled with goodwill and sincerity,

(I too was hurrying on that front. I had ceaselessly striven to counsel you through petitions, my lord—and through these efforts, Lord Nobunaga’s will appeared at last to be hardening. At this juncture—were we to send the hostage—the effect would grow all the greater. Yet what troubled me was how even now, enemy factions seemed ceaselessly engaged in spreading slanderous rumors to sow discord. (It was precisely your bedrock resolve that remained our firmest reliance.))

he stated, and in one particular letter, “We hold you as kin to our younger brother Koichirō [Hashiba Hidenaga], treating you with utmost familiarity. Whatever matters others may raise, through direct consultation with you alone shall we render fair judgment.” he had even written. (A brother.) (You consider me no different from your own younger brother Koichirō.) Hideyoshi’s attitude toward Kanbei had gradually taken this form. As for Kanbei—no matter what adversities might arise—he now harbored a resolve never to oppose Hideyoshi.

2 “I’ll be able to see the capital!” “I can see Azuchi!”

As he said this, watching ten-year-old Matsuchiyo excitedly prepare for the journey, his young mother and grandfather Sōen could no longer suppress their tears. The decision to finally offer this treasured sapling as a hostage was settled in September of that year.

“I’m off, Mother. “I’m off, Grandfather.” In the boy’s eyes, there was nothing but excitement for the journey ahead. It was truly a scene of pure delight. He put on straw sandals, fastened a sword at his waist, and gripped a sedge hat. Such travel attire gallantly stirred the boy’s dreams. He paid no heed—not even a backward glance—to the tearful figures of his childhood wet nurses, retainers, or even his own mother as he hurried forward.

Matsuchiyo mounted a horse at the castle gate. His delicate form wrung even more tears from those who saw him off. How many hostages sent far away as hostages were ever safely returned as hostages?

The retainers accompanying him to Azuchi numbered no more than four or five men. As for the hostage, there was fear he might be snatched by enemy hands along the way. Yet among those preparing ships at Shikama Beach still stood many stalwart men, and should they reach Hyōgo Bay, his father Kanbei was supposed to be waiting there. For Kanbei, rather than sending one child alone, he strained his strategic mind to bring tens of thousands of Oda troops and a single commander into Harima Province. And he believed the day to see this realized could be none other than now.

Traveling by land alone on horseback and in haste, he met with Araki Murashige to inquire about the situation in Kinki and coordinate preparations for the Chūgoku invasion; then, hiding in a fishing village at Hyōgo Bay, he waited for his son’s arrival.

It was the end of September.

The Long-Awaited Day 1

1

The autumn of Azuchi had transformed its scenery entirely from the previous year. The castle keep had already been completed, and the castle town encircled by eight towers and ten gates was nearly finished taking on the appearance of a new cultural metropolis. Matsuchiyo, who had arrived here with his father, widened his eyes. Compared to Himeji’s modest castle, even through the boy’s eyes, Azuchi Castle’s grandeur and splendor were so starkly different that he could only gape in awe. Yet this boy, too, was the makings of what would later become Kuroda Nagamasa. Even when brought before the vassals of Azuchi by his father Kanbei, or when granted an audience with Nobunaga, he never behaved in a servile or shameful manner. He answered everything clearly and promptly, his demeanor unflinching.

“He’s even more handsome than his father Kanbei.” “He takes after Her Ladyship, his mother.” “His temperament also seems steady.” “He’s a good hostage.” “He has considerable merit.” Nobunaga kept saying. Moreover, regarding the sincerity of promptly bringing the hostage he had been uncertain about, it was evident that he had reaffirmed Kanbei’s unwavering loyalty and was greatly commending it. Naturally, Hideyoshi was also present that day. Once the formal exchange of hostages was completed, a banquet was later held in the Twelve-Mat Western Plum Chamber. This meal signified a farewell between the child who was to be a hostage and the parent who would entrust their child and return home, until a day of reunion that none could foresee—for the flesh-and-blood father and son, it must have been an immeasurable emotion.

Therefore, those seated—beginning with Nobunaga—were limited to a very few. At that gathering, Nobunaga said: “The campaign to subjugate the Chūgoku region—I shall surely accomplish it in the near future.” “At that time, I shall have Chikuzen take command.” “You and Chikuzen shall work in close concert to see it through.” When he heard this, Kuroda Kanbei felt as though parting with his child was no longer a concern. Having achieved his long-cherished ambition and received this pledge directly from Nobunaga, he could no longer suppress the heat rising behind his eyelids—as though his vision had already become reality. Furthermore, Nobunaga added,

“You and Lord Chikuzen are what one might call a compatible pair,” Nobunaga said. “Bound by fate from the start—sworn brothers who’d slit their own throats for one another.” He paused, fingertips drumming the lacquered armrest. “The hostage Matsuchiyo shall remain in Lord Chikuzen’s custody. With your son raised under his wing, even a wary fox like you might find some measure of peace.” The warlord’s consideration hung thick as summer humidity. “I am deeply grateful.” Kanbei knew no other words worthy of the moment. Each audience with Nobunaga layered fresh strata of awe upon his reverence—a mountain growing taller with every ascent. The camaraderie he shared with Hideyoshi resonated with that samurai creed of dying for one’s liege, but here... Here was vindication. His early faith in this man hadn’t been misplaced—climbing Nobunaga’s heights revealed not disappointment, but ever-expanding vistas of ruthless grandeur.

That said, of course, mountains had their precipices. They had their valleys. Nobunaga’s difficult temperament, his unfathomable caprices, his irritability and selfishness—Kanbei knew full well these very human shortcomings. But in this matter, Hideyoshi had always stood between them, skillfully reconciling both sides and explaining “such a temperament,” making it truly a relief for Kanbei. And these flaws never appeared as actual defects in Nobunaga.

2

He had stayed within Azuchi Castle for two days. On the morning of the third day, Kanbei bid farewell to Nobunaga, and Hideyoshi began his return journey to Nagahama with the hostage. Takenaka Hanbei, who had come with Hideyoshi, had been looking after Matsuchiyo since the previous day. As Hanbei was about to part, “By Lord Hideyoshi’s instruction, your son will be entrusted to my care at Bodaisan Castle in my homeland of Mino.” “Though it may be a rural area, you can rest assured there is little cause for concern regarding safety.”

he stated. Although Kuroda Kanbei thanked him sincerely from the heart, “Ah, I have imposed an unforeseen burden upon you.” “In your esteemed homeland, receiving the Takenaka family’s guidance would be the finest training he could have.” “However, in such a world’s customs, regarding Matsuchiyo’s life, I ask that you show him no special protection whatsoever—simply regard him as one who exists solely to fulfill Lord Hideyoshi’s commands.” “In any situation, no matter what may occur, I shall never harbor a parent’s heart that resents you.”

he also spoke of the extent of his resolve. They parted, earnestly pledging that the day of their reunion in Chūgoku would come soon.

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

Around that same time, Kuroda Kanbei had also left the town of Azuchi and was walking west along the lakeside row of pines. A retainer in attendance called out, “Oh! Lord Chikuzen is waving his fan.” At this alert, Kanbei reined in his horse and stared intently. The crimson sun disc on the fan stirred redly. Matsuchiyo was visible nearby. Takenaka Hanbei was also visible. Kuroda Kanbei waved his hand in response. When he looked back, the towering golden splendor of Azuchi Castle’s keep stood as a magnificent embodiment of Nobunaga’s “Rule the Realm by Force.” Yet even now, what seized Kanbei’s heart most deeply remained that single Hinomaru-adorned fan waving in the distance. No matter what, Hideyoshi’s methods always carried human warmth.

Can authority through force truly subjugate people, or can humanity bind their hearts? What if Hideyoshi possessed both? Kanbei secretly wondered.

On his return journey, Kuroda Kanbei abandoned both his attendants and horse, detouring from Tanba to San’in. This was to carry out the secret plan that had been formed during the two days he had spent in Azuchi with Hideyoshi this time. In San’in, the Amago clan’s partisans lay hidden in various places, awaiting the right moment. Though their forces could be called meager, the conflict between the Amago clan and the Mōri family had indeed persisted since the Daiei era—when Mōri Motonari seized the territories of Amago Tsunehisa—and for over fifty long years thereafter, across generations, the Amago clan had never ceased their battle to overthrow the Mōri.

Without territory or a single castle to their name, and lacking even a large army or military resources to rely on, the Amago rōnin had persevered through every manner of surprise attack while plotting their revenge—remaining a persistent thorn in the Mōri clan's side to this day. And it was Yamanaka Shikanosuke Yukimori—Amago Katsuhisa's trusted right-hand man and descendant of Tsunehisa—who ceaselessly sought to stir storms of conflict across San'in while upholding his lord's cause. A clandestine line of communication had already been established between Yamanaka Shikanosuke Yukimori and Azuchi as well. This too had been forged indirectly through Akechi Mitsuhide and Hosokawa Fujitaka—operatives primarily active in Tanba Province—who brokered a secret pact for future collaboration. Now Hashiba Hideyoshi had long recognized this faction's strategic value; having met Kuroda Kanbei in Azuchi this time, he sensed Oda Nobunaga's private intentions were nearly settled—

("Would it not be prudent for you as well to meet with Yamanaka Shikanosuke Yukimori and ensure your intentions are fully aligned?")

he had hinted at this. Of course, Kuroda Kanbei was well-informed about the situation in that region. Yet since Hashiba Hideyoshi had spoken as he did, Kanbei felt certain that the day for their campaign into Chūgoku must indeed be drawing near. Thus, he abruptly abandoned his plans to return to Himeji and instead made his way alone to San’in. Moreover, he harbored numerous strategies within him. To accomplish it all, he felt that even a dozen bodies wouldn’t suffice. In a guise scarcely different from that of a wandering ronin, he dashed about for nearly a month.

He met with Amago Katsuhisa and held in-depth discussions with Yamanaka Shikanosuke Yukimori. He also visited the scattered branch families of the former Akamatsu clan in Tajima, Hōki, and Harima, (The realm will surely move thus. And the future of the realm must also be one that moves thus.) he went about expounding his own conviction. Boldly, he went to meet even Bessho Nagaharu of Miki Castle with that conviction. Miki Castle had long raised a banner of clear opposition to Nobunaga, to the extent that it could be called a standard-bearer of the pro-Mōri faction—but Kuroda Kanbei’s impassioned arguments of conviction and sincerity ultimately moved castle lord Bessho Nagaharu to...

“If the Oda family’s ambitions—as they are reputed—are free of deceit, then when Hideyoshi marches westward, we may take up our role as one wing of their forces.” He returned having secured even a verbal agreement to that effect. The Bessho family were also a branch family of the Akamatsu clan, and the Kodera family too were of Akamatsu lineage. They shared close blood ties. The so-called branch families of the Akamatsu clan extended to as many as thirty-six houses in the Chūgoku region alone. Until today, he had not spoken of it aloud, but should the day come when a great crisis arose, he could easily persuade half of those thirty-six houses to join his side and summon forth a new faction—this was one of the stratagems he had long harbored.

Three Meanwhile, when Hashiba Hideyoshi received Nobunaga’s orders in mid-October, he gathered his forces at Azuchi with lightning speed and entered Harima Province as commander-in-chief of the Chūgoku front. This sent shockwaves not only through the enemy Mōri clan but also through the hearts of Azuchi’s veteran commanders. "To entrust an inexperienced general like Lord Chikuzen with the great responsibility of conquering Chūgoku—and moreover, to dispatch him as commander-in-chief." "This bold appointment—isn’t it excessively unconventional?"

The dissatisfaction harbored by senior retainers manifested clearly through this prevailing opinion. In other words, whether it was Shibata Katsuie or Niwa Nagahide, they still regarded Hideyoshi as nothing more than a man far junior to themselves. Was that truly the case? That... was how they felt. Akechi Mitsuhide appeared unexpectedly among their ranks. Regarding the Chūgoku campaign, he had maintained a quiet confidence—never voiced aloud—that the responsibility might fall to him. Particularly concerning San'in strategies, he had repeatedly offered counsel through his intermediary role with the Amago clan, making this more than mere self-delusion on his part.

However, the one who seemed more disappointed and displeased than anyone else was likely Araki Settsu-no-kami Murashige of Itami Castle—who had long been positioned at and active along the crucial boundary between Chūgoku and Kamigata. This was only natural, for Araki had always been a man who brimmed with self-assurance, thinking, "It should be me." It was undeniable that he felt a profound unease as he watched the massive army led by Hideyoshi pass through Settsu.

Four

For the Kodera family, this was not entirely favorable, but for Kuroda Kanbei, Hideyoshi’s army was precisely the long-awaited force. As previously agreed with Nobunaga, he offered up Himeji Castle—which had served as his family’s residence—in its entirety to serve as "the Oda army’s headquarters," welcoming Hideyoshi and his forces while relocating his family to a corner turret. Hideyoshi entered Himeji Castle and, from there, observed and assessed the overall situation through on-site inspection,

"The pacification of all Harima will likely be concluded by mid-next month at the latest," he had written in his report to Nobunaga with remarkable promptness. When the Oda banners were planted there, Kanbei's groundwork at last bore fruit as a substantial reality. The evidence of their commitment manifested in the hostages they sent. In Himeji, Hashiba Hideyoshi inspected over a dozen such hostages. Yet needless to say, these were merely offspring of minor local lords holding negligible power.

Those who possessed true power still did not easily submit to military authority. The rest depended on actual strength. With the swiftness of a gale, his troops had already entered Tajima and captured Yamaguchi, Iwabuchi, and Takeda Castle. In response to this, the force that arose from the San’in region was none other than the Amago faction’s troops. Yamanaka Shikanosuke Yukimori and Kuroda Kanbei shook hands at the Kumomigawa camp. “The long-awaited day has finally come.” “It has come… The dawn of Chūgoku.”

While the two heroes were deep in conversation, a report arrived: behind one of the enemy’s castles, Kōzuki, a considerable force under Ukida Izumi-no-kami—backed by the Mōri clan—appeared to be positioned. “Even if Ukida’s forces join in, what’s one skirmish to us?”

Shikanosuke requested to lead the vanguard. Of course, it was permitted. Kanbei consulted Takenaka Hanbei Shigeharu, who was always present at the camp. For when it came to matters of warfare, he firmly believed Hanbei possessed far greater knowledge than he himself did. Kōzuki Castle fell within ten days. The castle lord’s head was sent from Himeji to Azuchi. Hashiba Hideyoshi granted an audience to Amago’s lord and retainers, “I deeply recognize the hardships you have endured over many years.” “But your hardships will surely be rewarded.” “Today cannot yet be called the day of our true ambition—we have merely taken the first step in that matter.”

With heartfelt sympathy and recognition of their achievements，he shared cups of sake with them one evening. He stationed Amago Katsuhisa and Yamanaka Shikanosuke in Kozuki Castle，which had been captured from the enemy，and had them guard the border with enemy territory. Lord Katsuhisa was still young at twenty-six years old. Beneath him was Yamanaka Shikanosuke Yukimori—a retainer of solitary loyalty and a lifetime of chivalrous spirit—who，at thirty-nine years old，possessed a rugged bone structure.

The Celebrated Steed Shoshazan

One

Hideyoshi once returned in triumph to Azuchi. It was to personally seek Nobunaga’s instructions regarding the next phase of operations while also reporting on their military victories. “For an initial campaign’s achievement, this is beyond reproach.” “You have served admirably.” “Spend the New Year at leisure in Azuchi.” Nobunaga said this because it was the end of the year. And he bestowed his cherished Otogorae no Kama tea kettle. Receiving tea caddies, tea bowls, tea ceremony kettles, and such items bestowed by one’s lord was, in that era, equivalent to being awarded the highest military decoration. Not only was it an honor and a treasure of great value, but receiving them from Nobunaga—

“You too should possess such things—amidst your busyness, take a moment for tea and nourish your spirit.” This signified being granted the qualification to do so. Tea had reached the height of popularity, but few had received such official recognition from their lords.

The second month of Tenshō 6 began. Hashiba Hideyoshi once again descended upon Harima. The military structure had been further reinforced with grandeur.

The local allies of the Oda faction had gone out to welcome them as far as Kakogawa. This too stemmed entirely from Kuroda Kanbei’s resourcefulness—his sincere efforts to render Hideyoshi’s entry into Chūgoku resplendent.

Among these welcoming figures, especially notable was Bessho Kagai—uncle to Bessho Nagaharu, lord of Miki Castle—who had joined alongside Miyake Haritada of their house.

Speaking of the Bessho clan, they governed the eight districts of Eastern Harima—a domain yielding 430,000 koku—and were a major power there. Though they had once established ties with the Mōri clan, the fact that Kanbei—with his silver tongue—persuaded them and ultimately brought them into the Oda camp without deploying a single soldier was immeasurable in how it turned the strategic landscape of Harima Province to their advantage and made Hideyoshi’s forces resplendent.

“Well, well.” “Well now.” Hideyoshi always began this way with everyone. To relatives of major clans or retainers of minor castles alike, he showed no particular distinction in his demeanor.

However, having arrived at their post with remarkable vigor unlike their first campaign, their genuine joy overflowed from their faces.

That night, a grand banquet for their Banshū allies was held at the Kakogawa encampment. When the banquet ended, they changed seats and moved to a war council. Hashiba Hideyoshi had approached the meeting with a light consideration—since it followed a banquet—thinking that outlining only the main points of their established policy and the Oda clan’s invincible stance would suffice for tonight’s purposes.

However, there were two men at that meeting who spoke at great length. They were Bessho Kagai—uncle to Bessho Nagaharu—and Miyake Haritada. Hashiba Hideyoshi occasionally shot sharp glances their way. He too, on rare occasions, had his fits of temper.

Two

“Now that Lord Hashiba has given us his instructions and shared his aspirations—what do you think, gentlemen? You often speak of ‘the center, the center,’ but from the Mōri’s perspective, one might say Chūgoku itself is the center. Might the Oda forces’ vision be too fixated on themselves, leading them to underestimate the Mōri’s strength?… I can’t help but feel that way.”

And this was Bessho Kagai.

Though he appeared intoxicated, he licked his lips and repeatedly called out—not only to those seated around him but also to people across the room—as he spoke. “The Mōri clan’s wealth and military might are scarcely within the realm of imagination.” “Their naval forces in particular are overwhelming.” “The accumulated efforts since Motonari’s time have borne fruit, and regardless of the current lord Terumoto, figures like Kikkawa Motoharu and Kobayakawa Takakage cannot be taken lightly.” “Each is a formidable talent.”

“Now, now. “Uncle Nagaharu.” As if unable to endure any longer, Hashiba Hideyoshi called out from the upper seat as though tugging at his own ear. “What’s this muttering?” “Just what is the main point—the meaning—you’re trying to make?” “Ah, so it did reach your ears,” said Bessho Kagai with audacious composure. In terms of age, he had a hide as thick as Hideyoshi’s elders might possess, and showed no sign of flinching. “That is to say—” “If I may speak for your sake—should you rashly advance into this Chūgoku region, I fear it would lead to a most grave matter.” “We too should steadily fortify our military preparations and, after gradually capturing the Mōri’s small branch castles, carefully assess their strengths and weaknesses before mobilizing a large force—or so I propose.”

“I will not speak of needless things.” Hashiba Hideyoshi truly grew angry. And then, after fixing his gaze squarely upon the faces of Kagai and Miyake Haritada, he delivered a vehement declaration. “You lot need only serve as Lord Chikuzen’s vanguard, obey my commands, and fight valiantly.” “Such fundamental strategies and policies have been commanded by Lord Nobunaga and reside entirely within this Hideyoshi’s discretion.” “I will not permit your meddling.”

“Ah, so that’s how it is.” Kagai remained composed and turned to his neighbor Haritada. “...So that’s how it is.” “Well—there’s no longer any purpose in us being here, is there?” “Shall we take our leave?”

Prompted with a chin gesture, they left the room together. After leaving Kakogawa, Kagai turned from atop his horse toward Miyake Haritada and spoke.

“Tonight’s performance was a bit of a gamble with our necks. But with this, we’ve at least established a reason to move our lord. …What nonsense—the Bessho clan cannot endure being used as mere foot soldiers by Hashiba’s lackeys and Kuroda’s ilk! First and foremost, we cannot save face before the Mōri clan.” This was true allegiance to the Mōri faction. Although Lord Nagaharu had been persuaded by Kanbei to pledge his allegiance to Oda, these very words proved all too well that even now, the castle housed many such staunch anti-Nobunaga elements.

Three

The lord of Miki Castle, Bessho Nagaharu, was still a youth of twenty-five. Having observed from afar the dazzling rise of the new Oda forces and come to feel dissatisfaction even with the Mōri of Chūgoku, it was when he encountered Kuroda Kanbei’s persuasive arguments last year that he resolutely pledged allegiance to Oda.

“That’s nothing but deception—all of it!” His uncle Kagai, now present before him, denounced the faults in the strongest terms. “I met Hashiba Hideyoshi at Kakogawa, but his insolent rudeness made my very being tremble.” With theatrical exaggeration, he recounted what had happened then: “Bessho Nagaharu and all of you are merely Lord Chikuzen’s vanguard. He declared he would not permit meddling in matters of command or strategy.” “And that too before the entire assembly.” “—As if viewing the samurai of Harima as nothing better than servants.”

After sufficiently stirring Nagaharu’s emotions, he struck at what the lord was most wary of. “Ultimately, I believe Nobunaga’s true intent is to first exploit our clan’s forces at the outset, and once the Chūgoku conquest is achieved, to let each of us fall to ruin—even granting Miki Castle and such as rewards to Hideyoshi.” “The schemes of cunning leaders throughout history all follow the same principle.” Being persuaded to this extent by his uncle, even Nagaharu could no longer hold firm to his convictions. Suddenly, Miki Castle betrayed Kanbei. No—rather, in full, they proclaimed their break with Oda as a “breakdown of negotiations,” raised the banner of revolt, entrusted matters to the sudden surge of pro-Mōri forces inside the castle, and once again sent word pledging cooperation to Mōri Terumoto in Yoshida, Aki Province.

Once news of Miki Castle’s defection spread, the lords based in various small castles—Kamikichi, Kajiwara, Ago, Kinugasa, Nagai, and others—followed in succession, rallying to the cause, “Eradicate Hashiba’s forces from Chūgoku!”

had rallied under the great banner. There, both Kanbei’s bloodless conquest through diplomacy and his painstaking groundwork crumbled in a single day—all reduced to mere drawings of rice cakes. Kanbei honestly felt like crying. He seized Hideyoshi and vented from the depths of his heart.

“I believed you were a master not only of military strategy but also of diplomacy—one who never turned others away. Yet allowing Bessho Kagai to depart in anger is an inexcusable failure.” “Unlike the others, Miki Castle has many brave soldiers and is a natural fortress.” “Dealing with this will take considerable effort.” “It can’t be helped,” Hideyoshi admitted that he regretted his momentary surge of emotion, yet he refused to call this outcome a bad one.

“In fact, one could even say it’s for the best.” “For Miki Castle already harbors the danger of someday erupting in rebellion.” “I do not mean to belittle your achievement in skillfully subduing them with words, but our grand endeavor in the Chūgoku region must not become a castle built on sand.” “For that purpose, this outcome was rather beneficial.” There was no shortage of sour grapes. Yet to think thus might indeed be called an indomitable spirit. Kanbei took care never to broach the subject again. And gradually, as both Hideyoshi’s merits and flaws became clearer to him, he felt the truth of those words from Hideyoshi’s letter—“I regard you as I do my own brother Koichirō”—seep into his very bones.

Four

On the surface of words, no matter how much Hideyoshi made excuses of sour grapes, he could not conceal that the army’s established strategy had undergone an abrupt shift due to Miki Castle’s betrayal. This time, for the second expedition, it had been planned from the outset to target Bizen. For Ukita Naoie of Bizen was now the largest defensive stronghold forming the Mōri’s vanguard.

But now—in a sudden shift—they first had to subdue the rebellion at their feet, lest they fall into peril. Hashiba Hideyoshi followed Kuroda Kanbei’s advice and abruptly relocated his headquarters to Mount Shosha, directing operations from the temple there.

Intelligence reached the enemy with alarming speed. The Mōri naval forces that had been lying in wait off the coasts of Kii and Awaji had already launched assaults along the shoreline with over a hundred warships carrying several thousand soldiers. "I will take charge of this. My Lord, please take on the frontal enemy." Kanbei, leading four to five hundred soldiers under his trusted retainers Morita Tahei, Takemori Shinjirō, Kuriyama Zensuke, and others, confronted the landing Mōri forces. After inflicting heavy losses upon them and subduing the enemy commanders Kajiwara Kagetatsu and Akashi Kazuie, he returned.

“Kanbei, forgive me.” At that moment, Hideyoshi said. Suspicious, Kanbei asked, “Why do you apologize like this?” Hideyoshi replied in his characteristic forthright manner: “No—I’ve often carelessly praised you as a ‘master of rhetoric’ or ‘a strategist wielding an unbreakable three-inch tongue.’ But after witnessing your valor both in the recent attack on Kozuki Castle and now in this battle, I’ve come to understand you’re no mere schemer who relies on words alone.” “That’s why I apologized.” “Forgive me.”

Having said that, he slipped into his straw sandals and abruptly stepped out into the garden. What for? As Kanbei watched, he approached a black horse tied to a large Chinese flowering crabapple tree in the temple garden, grabbed its bridle, and led it to the front of the hall.

“A fine horse, Kanbei.”

Kanbei moved to the edge of the veranda, lowered his head, and placed both hands on the ground. “A chestnut coat,” he observed. “The sheen of its coat—the legs, hindquarters, balance with the shoulders, sharpness of its hooves.” “Most notably, its eyes remain calm.” “An esteemed steed unlike any I’ve encountered in recent years.” “It must be ten years old, I should think.” “Nay—still a young colt,” Hideyoshi countered. “Seven years old.” “It’ll serve you long into the future.” “Once you master riding it through battlefields, it’ll grow finer still… Well? Do you want it?” “I do.”

“Then I shall give it to you… Truth be told, I received this horse from Lord Nobunaga during this western campaign, rode it into battle for the first time, and tied it here at this encampment—so I named it Shoshazan and cherished it. But one could say that most of my achievements owe themselves to your efforts.—Kanbei, come down here and take the reins. What a splendid gait this horse has!”

“Thank you kindly.”

Descending into the garden, Kanbei knelt on the ground and accepted the reins. And without mounting it, he led it in a full circuit, observing it closely, then sighed three times and— “It may even surpass Red Hare, the steed beloved by Lü Bu of the Later Han.” “Shoshazan—the name for the horse is fitting, and as one hailing from Azuchi’s stables, the saddle’s auspices are most favorable.” “It will surely achieve great renown.” he said, looking genuinely pleased. Seeing this, Hideyoshi also stepped up onto the veranda, returned to his original seat, and continued to gaze.

“Keep striving.”

He encouraged.

Kuroda Kanbei bowed once more. And then, facing beyond the garden fence, he called out the name of his retainer Morita Tahei. Wondering what this was about, Tahei came running. “Your efforts at Kozuki Castle and your recent achievement in repelling the Mōri naval forces truly demonstrate remarkable loyalty and service.” “This is a famed steed I have now received from Lord Chikuzen, but as it was granted in recognition of military service, I bestow it upon you.” “You must convey my deepest gratitude to Lord Chikuzen.”

And with that, he nonchalantly bestowed it upon him.

Morita Tahei, overwhelmed by the excessive honor, stood dazed beyond joy; but when he took hold of the reins, he began weeping uncontrollably.

In his heart, Hideyoshi had already reassessed Kanbei’s capabilities once and then again. "This man knows how to handle retainers well," he thought. "But that’s exactly what makes him a bit difficult to wield."

Comradeship

1

The precipitous terrain of Miki Castle and its tenacious resistance resembled a decayed tooth with roots stubbornly entrenched in the gums.

Moreover, to extract this single troublesome tooth, they had to first capture—one by one—the satellite fortresses linked to it: Shikata, Konki, Takasago, Noguchi, Awaga, and Hashidani. Only then could they destabilize the enemy’s stronghold—the root of the tooth. Hashiba Hideyoshi’s tactics, with Shoshazan as his headquarters, followed standard strategy by attacking the enemy’s outer fortresses one castle at a time. They stormed Noguchi Castle, seized Hashidani Castle, and successively captured the fortresses of Konki Naganori of Konki and Kushihashi Haruie of Shikata, intensifying their arson, mopping-up operations, and pursuit across the vast territories under the Bessho clan’s domain.

However, even with the military strategist Takenaka Hanbei and the wise tactician Kuroda Kanbei supporting Hideyoshi at his side, a force numbering fewer than ten thousand could not hope to hastily secure results against their adversaries’ geographical advantage.

(The situation was critical; I had to urgently request reinforcements to head west.)

Hashiba Hideyoshi had swiftly dispatched an express courier to Nobunaga in Azuchi with this urgent request. Moreover, to prevent the troops’ morale from flagging, he periodically rested the warhorses and allowed them to cultivate their vital energy, preparing for a prolonged campaign.

It was during one such day of truce. Hanbei came to visit Kuroda Kanbei’s encampment. Wearing a campaign coat and holding a bamboo cane, he cut a dapper figure, “You’re here?” and peered inside the encampment. Shoshazan had many monks’ quarters. Kanbei’s encampment was also located in one of those quarters. At that moment, he was reading the *Analects* while fully armed, but upon the unexpected visit of a friend, he joyfully welcomed him and, as soon as the greetings concluded— “How fares your health? In camp life, one inevitably strains oneself, and provisions are scarce—Lord Chikuzen constantly worries your condition may worsen.”

he inquired after his friend’s health. Whenever they met Takenaka Hanbei, it had become customary for Kanbei and the staff officers to first and foremost ask about that. In truth, Hanbei’s condition had shown no signs of improvement since arriving on the battlefield. Amidst warriors with skin scorched like steel and beards neatly trimmed, his face alone stood out starkly white. During military councils, like a single white camellia blooming in a thicket, he was always at Hideyoshi’s side, speaking little.

Yet whenever people heard his words, it was always the listener who would feel refreshed. He himself was undeniably ill, yet he never shared that pain or melancholy with others. Today as well, he quietly wore his unchanging smile. “Not at all, thank you. A chronic illness is not as painful to the afflicted as your kind concern might lead you to believe—for me, this has simply become the norm.” “By the way, will the reinforcements from Azuchi arrive swiftly?”

“A letter has now arrived for you, my lord.” “According to its contents, forces under Generals Takikawa, Akechi, and Niwa—with Araki Murashige’s army added—have already departed for this location.” “—and Lord Nobutada, Lord Nobunaga’s heir, has joined them as well.” “That brings me some relief.” “I had been anxious about how Azuchi’s council might proceed…” “No—relief would be premature.” “The true difficulties lie ahead.” “……And why do you say that?”

“Whether we speak of Lord Niwa, Lord Akechi, Lord Takikawa, or Lord Sakuma—all pride themselves on being independent commanders. They are precisely the sort who would find no pleasure in receiving our lord’s orders and moving under his command.” “I fear formidable difficulties in command may arise from this.”

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

2

The communion of hearts required no jug of wine between them to remain inexhaustible in discourse. As mountain cherry petals occasionally drifted onto the veranda, their conversation had seemed wholly confined to military affairs—until Takenaka Shigeharu abruptly inquired: "I heard Lord Chikuzen recently granted you the famed steed Shoshazan in recognition of your repeated battlefield merits." "That was an excessively generous reward," Kuroda Kanbei replied. "Yet my achievements stem entirely from my subordinates' efforts, so I have already re-bestowed the horse upon Morita Tahei among my retainers. I can only wonder what our lord thinks of this—in truth, I am deeply apologetic."

“Not at all—regarding that matter, he harbors no particular thoughts.” “However, what concerns me is the letter from Lord Chikuzen addressed to you, in which he wrote of his intent to regard you as a brother—the one that has arrived.”

“Indeed.” “I have indeed had the honor of reading such undeserved gracious sentiments in the letter.” “And why does that concern you?” “Do you still have that letter in your possession?” “I have kept it close, considering it a family treasure, and always carry it with me.” “If you have it, would you permit me to see it?” “Of course.” With that, Kanbei immediately took it out from his armor chest and showed it. Then Takenaka Shigeharu carefully read it in silence, but when he finished, he wordlessly burned it in the hearth.

“Wh... what?” By the time Kuroda Kanbei voiced his shock, it had already turned to white ash. Even he could not help but alter his expression and reproach him. “Why would you cast into the flames what I hold as an irreplaceable token of my lord’s favor—the sole family treasure I possess? This discourtesy ill becomes even you. Was there some intent behind this?” Then Takenaka Shigeharu slightly withdrew his knees and, with an apologetic air, calmly admonished him. “Knowing your wisdom, I believed you would soon comprehend—hence my rash act. Please forgive this as a friend’s compassion.”

“How can this be called a friend’s compassion?”

“For if you were to cherish such an oath, in time, discontent would surely arise toward the lord you serve, leading to neglect of duty—and that undying discontent would ultimately become the cause of your own undoing.” “Thinking of my lord’s sake and your noble house’s sake, I judged it unnecessary for both parties and thus burned it.”

“Ah… Exactly.” Kanbei slapped his knee and involuntarily shed tears at his friend’s words. Never had he felt the duty of a vassal impressed upon him so acutely as in that moment.

Shigeharu searched the folds of his armor and retrieved another letter. He gently placed it into the hands of Kanbei—who sat motionless, stricken with remorse—and declared: “Having lost what you cherished so deeply, your heart must feel desolate.” “This document surpasses even that one.” “Examine it at your leisure later.” Gazing at the twilight sky, Takenaka Shigeharu then took his leave.

He was a man whose very presence and departure were entirely encapsulated in the single word “serenity.” Kanbei saw the figure off to the camp gate and, upon returning to the veranda, noticed what he held in his hand. Whose letter is this?

Having sat down there, he proceeded to break the seal. It was a letter from his child, Matsuchiyo. Since they had taken him to Azuchi as a hostage, was this not the childish handwriting of his eleven-year-old son—the boy he tried day and night to forget yet unwittingly saw even in dreams of the battlefield? Inside were clumsy characters and artless phrases detailing his current circumstances. Lord Takenaka Hanbei’s Bodaisan Castle in Mino is on a higher mountain than Himeji Castle. In winter, the snow is deep, and spring comes late. At first I was lonely, but the people of the household all treat me well, and the children of the household members gather in great numbers at the castle every day to keep me company during my studies, so lately I don’t feel lonely at all.

—he continued with such meaning, and toward the end, (I also want to go to the battlefield with Father soon.) he had also written.

The Burden of Command

1

The siege of the fortress, Miki Castle, remained incomplete. Just then,

“An urgent report arrived at Mount Shosha: ‘The Mōri’s large army has surrounded Kozuki Castle.’”

Kozuki Castle was an allied salient positioned closest to enemy territory. After its capture, it had been made into a strategic stronghold guarded by Amago Katsuhisa, Yamanaka Shikanosuke, and others of the so-called Amago clan. Naturally, they could not afford to abandon it. Since reinforcements from Azuchi had arrived, Hashiba Hideyoshi immediately led approximately twenty thousand troops—combining Araki Murashige’s unit—and raced to provide urgent relief there, encamping at Takakura Mountain east of Kozuki Castle. “Here, I shall lead the relief! Hold out until we can establish contact with the castle!”

Hashiba Hideyoshi sent out spies and encouraged the Amago clan in the castle in this manner. However, between Takakura Mountain and Kozuki Castle, fences had been erected, abatis lined up, and trenches and moats dug—every manner of defensive line constructed to such an extent that not a single step could be taken toward the opposing peak. Moreover, the enemy’s numbers were double those of Hashiba Hideyoshi’s forces. It was an immense force, as if they had mobilized the entirety of Mōri’s national strength—just counting the commanders alone, there was Kobayakawa Takakage’s army of approximately twenty thousand, Kikkawa Motoharu’s army of about fifteen thousand, and Ukita Naoie’s unit of some fourteen to fifteen thousand. Even Hashiba Hideyoshi, having surveyed this, could not possibly engage in a reckless battle.

Reluctantly, every night, they lit massive bonfires across the entire mountain, managing only to bolster the morale of their distant, isolated fortress from afar. Meanwhile, the Mōri forces began to boldly display their might at sea. Throughout the coastal waters of Harima and Settsu, over seven hundred warships cruised with banners aloft—every single one of them belonged to the Mōri naval forces.

2 Upon learning of the urgent situation, Nobunaga of Azuchi had first dispatched his son Nobutada and other commanders. But now, realizing that the Mōri clan’s second front had split their allies by besieging Kozuki Castle, he resolved to take personal command. However, violent storms in the Kansai region had flooded rivers for days, and reports of treacherous travel conditions forced him to wait idly, letting several days pass. “This appears an unavoidable circumstance,” “Your Lordship should abandon Kozuki Castle alone, recall Lord Hideyoshi’s forces to the rear, combine them with Lord Nobutada’s army, and concentrate your assault solely on our immediate formidable foe—Bessho Nagaharu of Miki Castle. This would constitute the most certain military strategy.”

Takigawa Kazumasu and Sakuma Nobumori repeatedly submitted proposals from the front lines to Nobunaga in Azuchi. Already among Oda’s hereditary vassals, considerable envy toward Hideyoshi’s achievements had been brewing since the Chūgoku front campaign’s commencement. There were not merely two or three veteran generals who secretly harbored hopes for some crisis that might bring Hideyoshi to ruin. Nobunaga’s order had been conveyed directly from Azuchi to Hideyoshi’s encampment at Takakura Mountain by urgent messenger.

“Mustering reinforcements for Kozuki Castle will directly fall into the enemy’s second front strategy. Retreat at once, join forces with Lord Nobutada’s army, and turn your full strength against Miki Castle.”

Such were the terms of the command. Hashiba Hideyoshi, upon receiving the order, remained dismayed for some time.

“Does Your Lordship’s intention in ordering us to abandon Kozuki Castle mean that we are to let those within its walls—Amago Katsuhisa, Yamanaka Shikanosuke, and the rest—perish? No matter how one looks at it, it is too unbearable to endure.” So he thought. Just then, Kanbei was not in this encampment. Bearing a secret order, he had gone undercover to Bizen-Okayama. So Hideyoshi summoned his strategist Takenaka Hanbei and consulted him about the orders they had received from Azuchi—what should they do?

Hanbei said fluidly. “You must withdraw.” “You must not defy Azuchi’s command.” “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 final contact urging them to desperately break out and join our forces.” “Though I recognize even this would be an extraordinary challenge.”

“Let’s send Kamei Korenori.”

And so, he waited all night for those within the castle to break out and come to him, but ultimately, it proved impossible. No matter what they did, they could not break through Mōri’s dense siege ring and reach here. Until he had struck camp and left that place, Hideyoshi gazed at his allies in the isolated castle and lamented over and over. “They have truly fought the hated Mōri clan ceaselessly for fifty-seven long years since Daiei 4—fathers and sons across generations aspiring to restore the Amago name. When Lord Nobunaga’s western campaign began, they clung to his banner, became our allies, and achieved merit… Yet now, to abandon them—to let Amago Katsuhisa and Yamanaka Shikanosuke perish—regardless of my own standing as a mere general, it would disgrace Lord Nobunaga’s very name. Long after his conquests reach the farthest ends of Chūgoku and Chikushi, this act will fester as fodder for the world’s scorn…” “It is truly a bitterly frustrating matter.”

Araki Murashige, their ally, had already departed for Mount Shosha without a trace of hesitation. Hashiba Hideyoshi left a rear guard behind and began a gradual retreat. To his mind, he had never experienced a battle as bitter as this—one so contrary to his own heart, forcing him into a futile withdrawal. Plans are always easily overturned. Yet while enemy reversals are war’s inevitability, there exists no bitterness more acute for a commander of three armies than when his own allies subvert them—a torment beyond tears.

Castle of the Forsaken

1

Neither a single life nor an ongoing war proceeds smoothly. Adversity is ever-present. No—adversity is ever-present within prosperity itself. Hideyoshi’s adversity began around this time. Looking back, he had indeed been proceeding smoothly up to this point. He had been appointed Commissioner of Chūgoku and, as Commander-in-Chief of the Western Expedition, could employ strategies at will. However, when Oda Nobutada advanced westward with accompanying generals such as Niwa, Akechi, Sakuma, and Takigawa supporting him, and when even the fundamental strategy underwent a complete transformation under direct orders from Azuchi, his commands and intentions could no longer be carried out as before. In all matters, they first had to defer to Nobutada, and all the senior generals in Nobutada’s camp still regarded Hideyoshi as nothing more than an “upstart,” habitually calling him “that monkey.”

Consequently, Nobutada did not value him as highly as his father Nobunaga had. The headquarters of the Miki Castle siege army was no longer at Hideyoshi’s encampment; it had shifted to where Nobutada was stationed. When he had fruitlessly abandoned the relief of Kozuki Castle and withdrawn, Nobutada immediately ordered him: “Take your forces into Tajima, subjugate the Bessho allies scattered there, and return.” he ordered. Nobutada was still a young general in his twenties. It was only natural he would be so simplistic. Hashiba Hideyoshi smiled cheerfully while obeying the command,

“Yes, yes. Understood.”

And so he immediately departed once more for Tajima. Of course, it was all too evident that the order dispatching him to such a task befitting a single unit had come not from Nobutada’s own will but rather from veteran generals within his inner circle—the likes of Sakuma, Niwa, and Takigawa. “Even if it is Lord Nobutada’s command, why did you obediently accept such an unwelcome order?” And though there were also disquieting voices among Hideyoshi’s ranks, Takenaka Hanbei firmly issued military orders,

“Do not dwell on faults,” “For in military affairs, those who clamor over right and wrong are foremost among the incompetent.” When he admonished them thus, the officers and soldiers at last turned their discontent elsewhere and embarked on their campaign. The mopping-up of minor enemy forces scattered across Tajima was completed in roughly one month.

It was already July. During these forty-odd days of continuing fierce battles in remote mountainous regions, even the faces of Hideyoshi and his commanders had become deeply sunburned. No matter how much they lay in mountain wilds or were scorched by marching under blazing heat, what remained white as a morning glory flower was Takenaka Hanbei’s countenance. Hanbei’s condition appeared to have rapidly worsened, and according to his subordinates, “On nights when we camped in the fields lying on grass, he would cough incessantly in the middle of the night, and during battles, we would often witness him quietly concealing what appeared to be blood-tinged sputum in his pocket paper.”

Such were their reports; yet while among Hideyoshi’s retainers, not once did he show a pained expression, and when questioned, he would laugh— “The battlefield is indeed an enjoyable place.” “When heading into battle, I forget everything else.” “If one considers that the lives of thousands of soldiers hang on a single decision from the command tent, then there is no time to even recall an individual ailment such as mine.” He said this in his usual quiet words.

2 During this period, Kozuki Castle—the forsaken stronghold at the border of Harima and Bizen where the Amago clan had been based—succumbed to its inevitable fate and fell. Amago Katsuhisa committed seppuku and entreated the enemy to spare his soldiers’ lives; Yamanaka Shikanosuke Yukimori became a surrendered man and prostrated himself before the Mōri forces. “We shall grant you a 5,000-koku stipend in the land of Suō,” declared Kikkawa Motoharu and Kobayakawa Takakage with magnanimity. “Would you not forget old grudges and pledge long service to the Mōri clan?” Both treated him with such favor when issuing this decree. Shikanosuke,

“I never desired this.” Thus having submitted to their grace, he was escorted to Suō Province along with approximately thirty people—his wife, children, and retainers. He who had been indomitable—who for decades had overcome countless hardships and refused to yield while opposing the great Mōri clan for the sake of restoring his lord’s house—now bore a demeanor so wretched and pitiable.

—Yet, in Shikanosuke's heart, until the very end, there still... (I won't die for nothing.) There was something he had secretly kept hidden. It was his intent—after being taken into enemy territory—to cross blades with either Kikkawa Motoharu or, if fortune favored him, Mōri Terumoto, and die in the attempt. However, the Mōri side had been deeply suspicious of his surrender from the very beginning.

(A man like him?) Lord Katsuhisa had already committed seppuku. The Amago main house’s bloodline had been severed. It was unthinkable that Yamanaka Shikanosuke Yukimori—having received such a generous stipend—would shamelessly steal glory solely for himself in his waning years. —The Kikkawa retainers, who had already seen through this deception, seized their moment when Shikanosuke wiped his sweat while awaiting the ferry at Kawabe Crossing beneath Bitchū Matsuyama during the escort. They suddenly struck with a tachi from behind.

Shikanosuke leaped into the river, but since they had long plotted this, they hurled spears from both banks and boats before plunging one after another into the water to grapple with him, ultimately claiming his severed head. Shikanosuke’s blood temporarily turned the Kōbe River crimson.

He was thirty-nine years old. When Hideyoshi heard this report, “What a waste of a man!” he clicked his tongue sorrowfully, glancing at Kuroda Kanbei and Hanbei.

Then, glancing at Kanbei and Hanbei, he clicked his tongue mournfully. But Kuroda Kanbei immediately responded, soothing his lord’s anguish. “Though we have lost Kozuki Castle to the enemy, we shall soon reclaim tenfold.” “At this critical juncture, our forces will never taste defeat.” “...Hmm. That must be it.”

Hideyoshi, too, had something he was eagerly awaiting. That was the allegiance of Ukita Naoie of Bizen, with whom Kanbei had previously slipped out of the military camp and secretly communicated through envoys.

Autumn at Hirai Mountain

1

When Hashiba Hideyoshi returned from Tajima Province, Nobunaga’s main forces—now augmented by an additional division—commenced a full-scale siege of Miki Castle. First, they swiftly captured Kamiyoshi Castle and Shikata Castle, satellite fortresses supporting Miki’s defenses. Yet Miki Castle itself—garrisoned by over seven thousand Bessho clansmen—proved impregnable: its natural fortress terrain housed elite troops bound by blood ties, while Mōri supply ships had thoroughly stocked it with fresh weapons and provisions through maritime routes. Given these advantages, breaching its walls within any short timeframe remained impossible.

Azuchi’s policy had settled on preparing for a prolonged siege through patient starvation tactics, and when August arrived, Nobutada withdrew to Azuchi with most of his generals and their units.

“The remainder shall be a prolonged siege.” “I entrust it to you.”

These were the words spoken to Hideyoshi upon his return. Hideyoshi obediently complied even with this, “There’s no need for concern.” he answered. And with a force incomparable to before, he established his headquarters for the prolonged siege at Hirai Mountain, directly facing Miki Castle. Nobutada’s withdrawal, however, had another reason. It was because Kikkawa Motoharu of Izumo and Kobayakawa Takakage of Aki—commanders of the Mōri-aligned Kikkawa and Kobayakawa forces—had withdrawn to their respective domains shortly after capturing Kozuki Castle, sensing the war situation would become protracted.

Truly, the state of war was unpredictably complex. The fickle hearts of men in wartime—where betrayal was commonplace—now revealed their volatility without reserve, (Is it beneficial to rely on Mōri? Does victory lie with joining Oda?) Weighing their options, they would pledge allegiance to a faction at dawn only to abandon it by dusk—their shifts nearly impossible to foresee. As Mōri forces withdrew from the borders of Bizen and Harima provinces, Ukita Naoie’s betrayal came to light. That he had abandoned the Mōri clan and pledged Bizen Province’s full allegiance to Oda marked a grave shift in the war’s course—a turning point that decisively favored the Oda faction. Nobutada and his generals made their triumphant return bearing this advantageous development as their trophy, yet—unbeknownst to all—it was Kuroda Kanbei’s tireless efforts and silver tongue that had made it possible.

Of course, this was achieved with Lord Hideyoshi’s consent and through the combined efforts of master and vassal, greatly aided by Takenaka Hanbei’s strategic mind. Yet it was Kanbei who had undertaken the actual labor—venturing repeatedly into enemy territory at mortal risk, employing both legwork and eloquence to mobilize these forces through countless perilous secret missions. Within Ukita’s household, there had also been a valuable contact—a man called Hanabusa Sukehye, a retainer of Ukita Naoie. This was the so-called “man who could be reasoned with.” He quickly established a rapport with Kanbei, quelled the myriad dissenting opinions within the domain, and compelled his lord Naoie to pledge allegiance to Oda.

2

The allied main forces had departed, and with Lord Hashiba Chikuzen’s single army now poised for a prolonged siege against the impregnable Miki Castle, early autumn had arrived even at the resolute encampment of Hirai Mountain. On the mountain, balloon flowers bloomed, and pampas grass put forth its plumes.

“Today marks the hundredth-day memorial of Yamanaka Shikanosuke Yukimori.” “It is said that when he died at Kawabe Crossing, he had worn the Taikai Tea Caddy upon his chest.” “Even that stalwart appears to have possessed a tenderly refined aspect.” “Tonight I myself shall offer a bowl to console his loyal spirit—so full of unfulfilled resolve.” “You all shall join me in this observance.” The white moon streamed through the plank eaves of the military encampment. Hideyoshi remained solemn before the hissing kettle as he spoke. Though they had occasionally gathered for tea in camp, never before had Hideyoshi revealed such unadorned solitude.

Only two people were present. Of course, they were Hanbei and Kanbei. That Hideyoshi had not forgotten the anniversary of Shikanosuke’s death filled them both with profound gratitude. It deepened their resolve—they would consider it no waste to die for this man.

That very night.

Takenaka Hanbei crouched by the moonlit white roadside on his way back to his encampment and remained there for some time without rising. "What happened, my lord?"

The retainer peered at his face—paler than the moon—and furrowed his brows, but Hanbei began to walk as he said, “It’s nothing.”

With that, he said no more. However, afterward, a blood-stained kaishi paper lay discarded there. He had coughed up blood. That night he developed a fever and remained bedridden in the encampment for over ten days. Hashiba Hideyoshi, who had come to visit, sat by his bedside.

“This stubborn endurance brings me no joy.” “I beg you—get proper rest.” “You can’t recover properly on a battlefield.” “Go to Kyoto. See a proper physician.” “Have Lord Manase Dōsan examine you.” “He’s the greatest doctor of our age... If I lost you now, my path would grow dark.” “You must stay in Kyoto—six months, a full year if needed—until you’ve fully recuperated.”

He alternated between scolding and encouraging, urging him as if pleading. “Your words are too generous.” Hanbei wiped his tears. Kanbei, perceiving his inner turmoil, lowered his head.

It was an autumn day pierced by the shrike's call. The ailing tactician Takenaka Hanbei finally departed for Kyoto, leaving behind the Hirai Mountain encampment he had sworn never to abandon, even in death. Seen off by Hideyoshi, Kanbei, and the others—

A single mountain palanquin had been newly crafted for him. This too stood as testament to Hideyoshi’s thoughtfulness. Both Hideyoshi and Kanbei watched with burning eyes as that shadow passed through the gate and descended the mountain path. “Ah, Kanbei—such brilliance, such learning in one so young. If heaven deigns to send such a man into this world, why must it shackle him with illness from birth? When I ponder Lord Hanbei’s true heart as he departs now...it rends me beyond bearing.”

Hideyoshi strode back into his encampment as he spoke. When he felt a spasm contorting his face into something like a child’s pout, he would try to hide himself like a boy. The insect-filled autumn deepened. Hideyoshi’s seat area held a gap-toothed loneliness. Kuroda Kanbei made a conscious effort to avoid speaking of Hanbei.

As expected, this desolation was shattered. Moreover, it was a tension poised to bring even greater desolation—for an express messenger had arrived bearing news that Araki Murashige, a general who had previously withdrawn with Nobutada, had suddenly raised the banner of revolt against the Oda clan after seizing control of Settsu’s strategic stronghold where he was stationed.

“Murashige…?”

“That Lord Araki…?” Truly inscrutable were the hearts of men and the times—so lord and retainer thought as they exchanged looks of utter shock. Yet scarcely ten days had passed before another urgent report arrived to stun Hideyoshi and Kanbei once more. “There is evidence that Kodera Masataka of Gochaku, having been persuaded by Araki Murashige of Settsu, has conspired to defect together and request reinforcements from the Mōri faction.” “There is an eighty to ninety percent certainty this matter holds true.”

On the day the spy’s report arrived, an identical express messenger came from Kuroda Sōen of Himeji as well. It was an event that left no room for doubt.

There is but one path.

1 "I have an urgent request," "I humbly beg you to grant me a few days' leave." Kanbei spoke these words and pressed his hands to the floor before Hideyoshi. This came after a night of tormented deliberation. A profound resolve born of self-condemnation filled every line of his brow. "Where would you go?"

How to handle this crisis? Hideyoshi too still appeared to be deep in deliberation. It was evident from his failure to immediately say "Very well."

Since yesterday, Hideyoshi had worn an uncharacteristically grave expression—one he seemed powerless to suppress. Kanbei found even the act of raising his eyes to that visage unbearable, pressing his forehead deeper into the ground. “I shall drive myself to Gochaku.” “Once I stand before them, I will root out dissent within the clan, counsel Lord Masataka, and never relent until this reckless betrayal is undone.” “Do you truly think…” “…that going now would serve any purpose?”

“No—if you would but send me, even should it cost Kanbei his very life…” It was not merely a matter of words. Kanbei concentrated that life-risking resolve in his eyes and gazed at Hideyoshi’s lips. That Gochaku Castle in Harima Province—which should have been more unshakable than any other—and its lord Kodera Masataka had so easily crumbled in their convictions, suddenly declaring defection alongside Araki Murashige’s rebellion to side with the Mōri clan in a betrayal that deceived the world—this must have been an unbearable blow for Kuroda Kanbei, one beyond tears. Outrageous—utterly outrageous! Even seeing how his eyes had reddened through the night from the sheer ignorance and lack of principle, one could grasp the extraordinary nature of his fury.

In truth, considering how matters had unfolded from the beginning, it could be said his position had been overturned from its very foundation. To Nobunaga of Azuchi, to Hideyoshi, and even to the local compatriots in Harima whom he himself had persuaded and brought over to the Oda faction—where could he show his face? There was samurai honor to uphold. There was a righteous cause to live and stand firm. If his resolve wavered, only one path remained—to cut open his belly and demonstrate his integrity.

“Please grant this Kanbei a few days’ leave.” “I shall return without delay.” In his desperation, he kept repeating his plea, but when Hideyoshi’s eyes suddenly shifted to gaze directly at his face, Kanbei was struck by a pang of reflection akin to regret. Hideyoshi—who neither refused outright nor granted permission, withholding any easy answer—might he not secretly fear in his heart that Kanbei would depart for Gochaku and never return to camp?

From Hideyoshi’s perspective, it was not impossible to harbor such doubts. Such was this era, and such were the hearts of men. Moreover, the Oda faction’s position here was decidedly unfavorable.

He had gone too far. Saying things like "I'll return right away" only deepened that very apprehension.

Having noticed this, Kuroda Kanbei began to lift his face to further emphasize his sincerity—when suddenly, “Go and come back.” Hideyoshi slipped out from his bedding, abruptly grabbed Kanbei’s hand, and said with force. “It will be painful, but go and return. For you, Kodera Masataka remains your lord through and through.” "He shares a bond with you deeper than even mine." “Then… Have I your permission?” “Who else but you could shoulder this duty?” "What Lord Chikuzen feared losing was your life." “The danger is real enough.”

“My resolve stands prepared.” “—That won’t do.” Hideyoshi released his sweat-dampened hand and drew his knees forward until they nearly touched Kanbei’s. “Not only do I greatly fear that Kodera’s retainers may seek to harm you, but I also harbor deep dread that you yourself might choose death. Once men declare rebellion, no persuasion can sway them—they tremble at future retribution. Even with your sincerity… Should Gochaku’s defenders stubbornly refuse to yield… Kanbei, what then will you do?”

“…………”

“Don’t die.” “As long as you don’t resort to some narrow-minded notion of cutting your belly to atone before Lord Nobunaga or this Lord Chikuzen when that time comes—then go and return.” “Come back in triumph!” “I shall not die.” Once again, he found himself brought to tears by this man’s words. Kanbei declared resolutely, tears and muscles contending across his entire face. “I will go and return.”

“Right.”

With a powerful voice, Hideyoshi gave a firm nod. Kuroda Kanbei immediately withdrew. “Later—I shall return once more to formally take my leave.”

II

When he returned to his own encampment, he immediately, “Tahei, lend me your horse. Your Mount Shosha.” “Here you are. Where might you be headed?” “I wish to make a round of our allied positions.” “Then I shall accompany you.” Morita Tahei followed his master’s mount. After descending from the main camp at Hirai Mountain, he inspected the allied front-line fortifications facing the enemy stronghold of Miki Castle before returning. Whether imagined or not, within the enemy’s castle town—garrisoned by over seven thousand elite soldiers—a vigorous morale could be felt. Araki Murashige’s sudden betrayal of Azuchi was clearly reflected in their spirits. The enemy could be seen rejoicing as though celebrating a victory song.

Moreover, following Araki Murashige’s uprising, reports stated that Takayama Ukon of Takatsuki in Settsu Province and Nakagawa Kiyohide of Ibaraki—among others—had successively raised banners of revolt. Even here in the Chūgoku region, the Kodera clan of Gochaku was now responding in kind. Given this chain of events, it was only natural that this coordinated strategy was being celebrated across their camps as an extraordinary diplomatic success for the Mōri faction. When he considered it, this was a grave crisis. Truly, Hirai Mountain was the watershed where either Oda would triumph or Mōri would prevail.

His heart grew restless. He felt a share of that responsibility himself— He returned the horse, met with Hideyoshi again, and proposed adjustments to troop deployments he had noticed during his inspection of the front-line positions, along with an important strategy. “From some time ago, our allies have blocked both eastern and western roads to Miki Castle—even sealing off the coastal highway from Harima Nada—to sever enemy supply routes. Yet today, after observing their morale and assessing the terrain, I see these measures have made no dent in enemy spirits.” “We must reconsider our approach.”

The focal point of Hideyoshi’s prolonged siege strategy lay precisely there, so when he heard this, he was greatly astonished. His eyes widened,

“Why?” “Why do you say cutting off their supply routes is useless?” he pressed further— “Just last month, when over two hundred of the Mōri clan’s supply ships approached the shore at Uozumi attempting to transport provisions to Miki, we resolutely drove them back. Moreover, on other routes as well, we have been constantly intercepting smuggled grain.” “We’ve sealed it off so tightly not a drop of water could leak through—yet if this isn’t dealing any blow to the enemy soldiers, we’re in grave trouble.” Rather than accepting Kanbei’s words, he emphasized the perfection of his own strategy in a tone tinged with dissatisfaction.

“No—until yesterday, that approach sufficed. But now that all of Settsu has aligned itself with the Mōri faction, a critical breach has formed.” “Hmm? … Is that so?” “It is no wonder you did not notice.” “Being born in Harima is precisely why this Kanbei noticed this mountain path—a narrow pass at Niu Mountain, visible roughly one *ri* south of Ogou.” “That place borders Harima and Settsu provinces. Though there’s no proper road to speak of, crossing it would allow easy transport of supplies from Settsu to Miki—or let Miki’s garrisoned troops reach Settsu without great difficulty.”

“Now that Araki of Settsu has betrayed us today, they have undoubtedly already constructed a new fortification there garrisoned with troops from either Miki or Settsu and opened up a supply route.” “Unless our allies somehow devise a means to address this, no matter how thoroughly we block Miki’s three roads, the Mōri supply ships will effortlessly transport provisions from Hanakuma in Settsu, cross Tanba, pass through Ogou, and deliver supplies into the castle from that direction.”

This counsel made Hideyoshi sincerely grateful. Moreover，Kanbei was now tormented by the direst of dire straits and was on the verge of taking a step into a place of suffering beyond even resigning himself to death. Even as he stood on that precipice，Hideyoshi’s profound gratitude—overflowing with emotion at how Kanbei had still managed to devote such care—was overwhelming.

“Well spoken.” “No—thank you, truly.” “You’ve managed it admirably.” “Then—” “I must take my leave for a time.” “Leaving already?”

“I believe acting sooner would be preferable.” “There should be no oversights—but do not grow complacent.” “Take utmost care of yourself.” “Yes—the camp’s interior as well.” “Leave it to me.”

“The enemy forces entrenched in steep terrain and our allies in exposed positions appear to have nearly equal numbers. Moreover, our soldiers are unfamiliar with the lay of the land, while the enemy are local samurai who would not lose their way even on these paths in pitch darkness.” “Moreover, as their morale appears to be exceedingly high, I urge you to anticipate that there is ample risk of them sallying forth from the castle to launch a surprise attack.” “In prolonged sieges, it is often the besieging forces who grow weary first and let their guard down—therefore—”

―Once more mounting his famed steed Shosha-zan, he began a slow descent from Hirai Mountain's main camp, gazing from horseback at the pale sun sinking behind the western ridge of the Chūgoku Mountains, his heart heavy with countless emotions.

III

When he reached the foothills, Kuroda Kanbei turned to look back.

“Tahei.” “You need not see me off beyond this point.” “Return now.”

Because he had spent half the day walking alongside the horse, Morita Tahei had vaguely sensed something unusual about his master’s destination and the resolve in his heart. “No—I shall accompany you all the way.” “Even to Himeji, even to Gochaku.” “I said that’s enough!”

Kanbei glared fiercely and rebuked him. “Not a single soldier here can be spared. If our camp at Hirai Mountain were to fall even once, it could spell the collapse of the entire Oda faction. Given that we are already outnumbered compared to the castle garrison—in my absence, you must fight with the strength of a hundred men. Do not follow!” “Yes!”

“Go back!”

“Yes…” Dejectedly, the retainer devoted to his master returned to the mountain encampment. While watching that retreating figure and gazing up at Hideyoshi’s encampment, even Kanbei—a warrior of iron resolve—felt his heart being torn asunder. Putting aside the retainer he had scolded away, the thought of Hideyoshi’s solitude pained him. Barely ten days had passed since Takenaka Hanbei—the ailing tactician he had relied upon as his right arm—left for Kyoto to convalesce. Now he too was departing from Hideyoshi’s side. Though not one to boast, Hideyoshi himself had often declared in his cups: “Hanbei is my left arm! Kanbei is my right arm!” Yet here they were in this bitter autumn at Hirai Mountain—where early frosts would soon descend, followed by snow. ―And so Kanbei halted his horse, lingering as though reluctant to leave.

Don't die. I will not die. Though he had been allowed time to make this vow, when he imagined the circumstances ahead and his objective's difficulty, no fortunate return could be hoped for. Not one chance in a hundred existed—this might be said. —Conviction firm, he unwittingly treated this moment as life's final parting: turning to see his loyal retainer's form, lifting eyes to Hideyoshi's figure, beholding Hirai Mountain's dusk-faded contours.

"Complaining. Do not indulge in delusions," he chided himself. Hōjō Tokimune had once said, "A warrior does not look back." Strike and shatter! The path was singular.

As soon as he struck with the whip, from there until nightfall, he rode on until the horse was panting.

Secret Dispatches

I The intelligence network of scouts who had spread their net wide was truly swift. Whispers raced from station to station along the highway. (Kuroda Kanbei departs Hirai Mountain) (Kanbei hurries west.) (Kanbei returns to Himeji.) Incessantly, like the wind, it had been conveyed there. From the day this news reached Gochaku Castle, Kodera Masataka and his retainers had been in a state of agitation, as if bracing for imminent action. “Why panic? If we fortify our preparations for battle toward Himeji, there will be nothing to fuss about.” “Should it come to blows,” “the Mōri clan’s vast army will arrive as reinforcements at any time.”

Ogawa Mikawanokami of the clan, senior retainer Masuda Magoemon, Kurakatsu Masatoshi, and others encouraged the clan’s retainers. Furthermore, they used those very words to rebuke and restrain even their lord Masataka—who would pale and begin to waver merely at hearing Kuroda Kanbei’s name.

Both Masataka and the elder retainers, (Now that Kanbei has returned, he will surely base himself at Himeji Castle, rally his father Sōen’s forces and nearby allies, seek aid from the Ukita family as well, and attack this Gochaku.) had indeed discerned that course of action as inevitable.

However, that morning, the words of a scout—who had whipped his swift horse and rushed into the castle gate as if diving—completely overturned their predictions, “Kanbei arrived in Himeji last night but, for some reason, did not enter Himeyama Castle. He stayed at an eye-drops shop in the town—Yojirōemon’s house—and it appears he is now heading toward this Gochaku this morning.” so it was reported. “What?! — Coming directly here?” “And how many men does he have?”

Although their battle preparations were thorough, the elder retainers all paled and inquired rapidly. The scout answered. “Alone.” “Just a single rider.”

“What?!” “Kanbei alone?!”

“Therefore, he isn’t bringing any attendants either.”

“Hmm?” Their faces looked as though they’d been cleanly thrown in a shoulder throw. For a time, as the retainers strained their eyes amidst their paranoia, Murai Kawachi-no-kami, one of the veteran commanders, suddenly declared in a stern, admonishing tone: “No—we must be even more vigilant. That man—who knows what sinister stratagems he might be concealing. Never slacken, any of you!”

II

Last night, he hurried to Himeji, but this morning found Kanbei composed. Swaying gently, he guided his famed steed Shosha-zan along the road to Gochaku—a little over a *ri*—gazing at the late autumn mountains and fields as he went. "How grateful... The rice harvest seems to have been good this year as well." "The maples are at their peak." "The farmers’ faces look bright too!"

He conversed loudly about such things with the man accompanying him. The man accompanying him was a traveling pilgrim who had been sometimes falling behind and sometimes moving ahead since Himeji. Though he was but a roadside figure, Kuroda Kanbei readily engaged him in casual conversation along the way. "My deepest apologies for the intrusion," said the pilgrim. "I must now pay my respects to Lord Ishison at yonder mountain, so I shall take my leave here…" As Gochaku Castle came into view just ahead, the pilgrim suddenly bid farewell and departed down a side path.

Kuroda Kanbei saw him off and gave a wry smile. That man was undoubtedly another spy from Gochaku. He had likely encountered countless men like autumn flies along his journey.

Before long, he tethered his horse at the castle gate. Then, Kuroda Kanbei informed the retainers at the gate that he had just returned, cheerfully exchanging greetings with everyone in his usual lively tone as he tried to proceed directly to Masataka’s quarters in the main keep—only for the retainers to hastily block his path, “My Lord has been feeling unwell since earlier and remains secluded. Please wait here awhile.” they said. Kanbei pressed forward insistently,

“Ah, if My Lord is unwell, then all the more reason I should pay my respects immediately.”

he said, but the retainers insisted, “Ah, His Lordship’s order was by no means to bar your passage.” “It is His Lordship’s will that you wait awhile.” With that, they laid out a cushion in a nearby room, served tea and sweets, and under the pretense of their lord’s command, forcibly detained him there. Meanwhile, in Masataka’s quarters, the clan elders remained huddled in urgent council. “Killing him is imperative.” “He might as well have come here to die.” “That man surely conspired with Hideyoshi—yet arriving alone makes this our perfect chance.” “If we fail to slay this root of our house’s ruin now, we’ll regret it for a hundred years!”

This was something that not only Ogawa Mikawanokami of the clan but also Masuda Magoemon and Kurakatsu Masatoshi had been vehemently arguing—but one or two of Kodera Masataka’s elder retainers countered: “If we end his life here, we would first remove a major obstacle and make our stance clear to the Mōri clan… However, should word spread that we assassinated him within Gochaku Castle… Himeji’s Sōen and the nearby Kuroda faction would immediately swarm here to attack.” “Of course, we have the Mōri clan’s support as well, and we can 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. ……Kanbei’s arrival was too swift—at this point, coordinating communications or signals with anyone is utterly impossible.”

Thus, with those who insisted first and foremost on their policy of knocking on stone bridges before crossing them raising objections, the discussion could not easily reach agreement. “Then, what should we do?” “Even if we discuss what should be done… But acting this hastily?” As they sat there without a plan, leisurely comparing their pensive expressions, Kanbei—whether driven by impatience or deliberately seizing the moment—lumbered into the room without waiting for an escort and suddenly called out from behind the people,

“Ah.” he called out in a loud voice.

The elder retainers, the clan members—and more than anyone else—Kodera Masataka was thrown into a panic. The pallor of dismay clung thickly to every brow.

But Kanbei, as chief retainer, carried himself no differently than he had on any other day of service at this castle, “I have just returned. —May you always remain in good health, My Lord.” “And to all present here as well—during Kanbei’s absence—you have rendered every manner of loyal service.” “I offer my gratitude.” “Ah, it has truly been so long since I’ve seen everyone—it somehow feels as though we haven’t met in ten years.”

As if to soothe the people’s bewilderment, he displayed an attitude free of obstinacy and endeavored to revive the former familiarity.

Three That day, having held direct discussions with his lord Masataka and exchanged circumstances knee-to-knee with the clan elders, Kuroda Kanbei thought privately: If I act now, I can still steer him away from Araki and the Mōri's lure. Returning was wise. With this, he eased the furrow in his brow and retired to his residence outside the castle walls to sleep that night.

He had returned here with an unclouded heart as his sole principle. He would hold no schemes. He would show no anger either. He would remain consistent solely for the sake of his liege house, the Kodera family, and with bushido’s trust and honor. There was only the single character of sincerity; with that, he would persuade his lord and convince the clan elders. If it did not succeed, then so be it—it was with this humble mindset that he confronted them. Whether his sincerity had reached them or not, the next morning, Eda Zenbee and Murai Kawachi-no-kami, among others, came to visit, engaging in frank conversation on various matters before departing. As noon approached, Masuda Magoemon arrived once more as Masataka’s envoy to summon him.

“Regarding your words yesterday and your unwavering loyalty, His Lordship appears deeply ashamed this morning. To begin with, this recent defection is not His Lordship’s crime alone—it is also because we advisors’ resolve was weakened during your absence… In any case, His Lordship has commanded that he particularly wishes to confide something in you. Would you deign to accompany this humble one?”

“Let us go.” “If His Lordship has come to realize this, then for Kanbei, there could be no greater delight.”

After quickly preparing himself, Kanbei went up to the castle. And then he met with Lord Masataka alone, just the two of them. At that moment, Masataka made this confession. “As you know, Araki Murashige of Settsu and my house have had a longstanding acquaintance since the time of my predecessor.” “Even in my generation, it remains a bond that cannot be severed.” “Now, this Murashige—though the full circumstances remain unclear—has abandoned Lord Nobunaga, raised a rebellion, and through the Bessho clan of Miki Castle and the Mōri clan, urged Gochaku Castle to join in striking against Hideyoshi in Chūgoku—to put it bluntly, that was the proposal he made. But yesterday, hearing your earnest counsel, I—Masataka—find it truly disgraceful that I so readily agreed to it.” “I am deeply ashamed.” “I apologize to you in this manner.”

“Such gracious words, Your Lordship.” “My Lord need not offer such repentance to this vassal Kanbei.” “If Your Lordship’s eyes are opened to that truth, then as Kanbei, I would bear no resentment even were I to die here.” “Now regarding this matter—I have an earnest request to entrust to you. How will you fulfill it?” “And what you mean by that is—”

“I want you to meet with Araki Murashige.” “First, meet with Murashige and explain my difficulties. Then, using your convictions, thoroughly convey how turning against Lord Nobunaga now amounts to nothing but reckless folly, and how relying solely on the Mōri clan’s imposing facade leaves us in ultimately precarious circumstances. Make him comprehend all this through your own words until understanding dawns.” Suddenly, Kanbei felt his passion and resolve surge powerfully within him at his lord’s utterance.

He immediately recognized this as a mission of great significance. If he could now persuade even Araki Murashige and make him abandon his recklessness, this would greatly contribute to the broader strategy of the Chūgoku campaign.—Having thought this, he immediately,

“I will gladly undertake your mission.” “And when Lord Murashige abandons his rebellion—”

“Of course, I, Masataka, shall never abandon the Oda house.” “Should my own inadequacy render even Kanbei’s efforts insufficient to sway Lord Murashige—what course will Your Lordship take?” “Though Araki Murashige shares deep historical ties with us, having exhausted our goodwill, we may nullify our prior consent as though it were scrap paper.” “Your words humble me.” “Hearing them, Kanbei feels fortified as though leading a million troops.” “Given Settsu’s sudden deterioration reported this day—I shall depart at once.”

“I have also prepared a written document here.” “Within it, I have thoroughly expressed the same intent.” “When you meet Murashige, personally hand this to him.” Masataka bestowed a written document.

IV

As the crimson leaves of mountains and fields darkened into twilight, Kuroda Kanbei was already urging his horse along the road at Himeji's outskirts.

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, through yesterday’s notice from Yojirōemon in the castle town, knew her husband’s actions and purpose in detail. Today, she had again heard from a messenger that her husband had briefly stopped his horse at Yojirōemon’s shop and was setting out once more for Settsu. So she stood in the shade of roadside trees to wait for his passing, if only from afar.

Knowing this, Yojirōemon deliberately detained him and took the reins of his horse to escort him to the edge of town. “Old man, go home now.” “This mission too is a difficult task; though I may not return alive, if I do survive, I will someday go to the house at Himeyama.” “Tell my father that I said so and left… That’s all. Now go home. We part here.”

Kanbei stopped his horse and sent Yojirōemon away. Yojirōemon stepped away from the horse’s side yet still lingered, repeatedly wiping his tears. Kanbei noticed this behavior. In the twilight shade of roadside trees, he saw his wife’s pale face beneath a woven sedge hat. From horseback, he scolded toward her. “Stay at home.” “With such idle time, why not attend to Father’s side?” “Your husband is a man of the battlefield.” “When have I ever removed my armor to return triumphant?” “You fool!”

Yet even as he scolded her, he was fumbling for something beneath his armor cloak. And crumpling it in his hand into a paper pellet, he threw it toward his wife’s figure. It was a letter from his child Matsuchiyo that had been handed to him by Takenaka Hanbei at Shosha Mountain’s encampment some time ago. The paper pellet did not reach as far as where it was intended. The young wife, who had been crying, leaped to chase the paper pellet tumbling away in the evening wind and retrieve it—but by the time she turned her gaze back to the road, the famed steed Shosha Mountain bearing Kuroda Kanbei had already vanished into the distant autumn haze, its swift hooves carrying it far beyond reach.

Darkness.

I

On the way, after staying one night at Kakogawa, Kuroda Kanbei trimmed the lamplight at the inn, composed a letter, and tucked it into his sleeve.

The next morning, when he came to the gate along the highway, he encountered Hashiba's troops guarding the strategic route. Kanbei took out something from his sleeve, “Deliver this to Lord Chikuzen.” With that, he entrusted the letter and hurried onward. Needless to say, the letter must have conveyed in detail both the subsequent developments and the circumstances that had urgently led him to proceed to Araki Murashige’s Itami Castle.

He wanted to catch even a glimpse of Lord Chikuzen’s face but… Turning toward Hirai Mountain’s direction—he could not help thinking of spending a day or two there—the situation in Settsu brooked not even half a day’s delay, and Gochaku’s post-betrayal state remained as changeable as a cat’s eyes. There was no telling when or how things might shift. Thinking this,

“There is no alternative but to hurry.” He could not even bring himself to sip a bowl of hot water at a roadside tea stall. Indeed, when he took a step into Settsu, a palpable tension could be felt even by those passing through. From around Hyōgo, soldiers of Hanakuma Castle seized the roads, built barricades everywhere, and established checkpoints, “Where are you going? What’s your business here?” Thus began the heavy-handed checkpoint inspection. “I, Kuroda Kanbei, retainer of Gochaku, come to Itami Castle by my lord’s command.” There, he did not so much as hint that he was one of Hideyoshi’s attendants. However, there was no one who did not know of Kuroda Kanbei. They could not stop him, but they let him pass with looks that warned against letting his guard down. And without fail, a courier horse would pass by from behind and gallop ahead.

It was close now—Itami was right there. Kuroda Kanbei calmly urged his horse onward and came to the pine grove near Itami. Then, from the roadside, someone— “My Lord, it has been a long time.” A man called out, approached his side as he turned in the saddle, and bowed deeply in greeting.

II “Oh! If it isn’t Shinpachi!” Kanbei dismounted from his horse and tied it to the tree’s shade. Wiping the sweat from his face, he settled onto a roadside tree root,

“How did you know I was coming?”

he asked. He was Shiroganeya Shinpachi, a metalworker specializing in gold and silver ornaments who resided in Itami’s castle town. This man was a relative of Yojirō, an eye medicine seller from Himeji, and in the past, when Kuroda Kanbei had roused his resolve, fled his homeland, and first set out to visit Nobunaga in Gifu, he had—on Yojirō’s recommendation—stayed for a night at Shiroganeya’s house, changed his travel attire there, and proceeded covertly from Kyoto to Gifu. “In Itami, since this morning, your arrival has already become the talk of everyone.” “This craftsman also heard it from Lord Araki’s household retainers.”

“Impressive how swiftly news spreads. …Ah, I see.” “They must have dispatched couriers in rapid succession to announce my approach.” “The thoroughfares remain tightly restricted.” “Even we artisans dwelling within the castle walls are forbidden from stepping beyond the domain’s borders.”

“That makes sense. It would be problematic if the situation within the domain were laid entirely bare to the Oda clan.” “Will it finally come to open battle with the Oda forces?” “That depends entirely on Lord Murashige’s resolve, but… Since he has already raised a rebellion against Lord Nobunaga, he must naturally be prepared to fight.” “Forces from Miki Castle and envoys from the Mōri clan appear to be streaming through the castle gates without pause.”

“The Miki Castle forces likely enter via mountain passes—but where do the Mōri forces come from?” “They come up from the sea.” “The Honganji forces as well.” “Thriving indeed.” “Lord Murashige must be breathing fiercely. …But Shinpachi—you have long resided in Itami and served within the castle, so you must have heard rumors. What could have caused a man of Araki Murashige’s stature to suddenly align himself with the Mōri clan and turn his bow against Lord Nobunaga? …Have you heard anything?”

“Well, regarding that matter, the rumors vary widely and are being noised about in all sorts of ways.” “Such as what?” “Some say Lord Akechi Hyūga-no-kami—envious of Lord Murashige’s military exploits and rise—secretly slandered him to Lord Nobunaga. Others claim the Mōri clan maneuvered behind the scenes, luring him with extraordinary rewards.” “So—the usual speculations?” “Is that the truth?” “No—the real cause seems different. From what this craftsman has gathered, several senior retainers of Itami Castle conspired to evade the Oda clan’s strict surveillance and illicitly sold vast stores of provisions and grain—a scheme exposed in Azuchi.”

“That seems plausible enough.” “Osaka Honganji has had all supply routes through Kinai severed by Oda forces—they’ve been starving for months.” “And that’s precisely where the Oda strategy focuses.” “They’re probably desperate for funds without hesitation.” “If they sold provisions there, they’d gain enormous profits—that could well be the case.” “They say Lord Murashige was summoned to Azuchi right after returning from the Chūgoku campaign with Lord Nobutada—either harshly rebuked or publicly berated by Lord Nobunaga himself.” “Though commanded to surrender the culprits, Lord Murashige adamantly refused.” “Apparently the offender’s either the father or close kin of that beauty he’s so fond of.”

“Seeing that vulnerability, the Honganji and Mōri factions must have lured him with profit.” “So you mean he was easily ensnared by their scheme?” “That appears to be the truth of it.” “I see the outline now.” “Tell me—have messengers from Azuchi been making frequent appearances at Itami Castle of late?” “They ceased coming these past few days, but once news of the rebellion spread, envoys delivering admonitions arrived in quick succession.” “I have heard that Lord Matsui Yūkan, Lord Akechi Mitsuhide, and Lord Manmi Senchiyo came multiple times bearing His Lordship’s decrees from Azuchi to reason with him—only to return fruitless each time they pleaded.”

“Well, you’ve told me much.” “Meeting you before entering the castle was indeed most opportune.” This had served as no small preparation for Kanbei. “Shinpachi—you have my thanks.” “In any case, this is but a humble abode, but since you have graced us with your presence, please deign to rest and prepare yourself here for a while.” “This time I have come to Itami not as part of a journey, unlike before.” “I must go to the castle immediately.” “If my business concludes as intended, I will surely stop by on my return.”

“……Well, I must settle this matter before today ends.” “Shinpachi, I’ll go ahead.”

Rising to his feet, he untied his horse himself, mounted it, left behind Shinpachi—who had come out to meet him—entered Itami Town, and immediately headed straight for the castle gate.

Inside the Seal

I

“Ah, you’ve come, Kanbei.” Araki Murashige displayed remarkably high spirits—verging on ostentation. He sat with knees splayed in a warrior’s posture, long elbows bent against an armrest that tilted his torso at an angle. The rugged contours of his muscles and blue-shadowed beard stubble stood in stark contrast to the excessively graceful woman beside him, who wafted air his way with a folding fan. “You remain unchanged as ever.” “No—if anything, you appear even more vigorous now.”

“What nonsense are you spouting, Kanbei? Would I have changed so quickly?” “You and I met not long ago at the Chūgoku front.”

“Ah—during our withdrawal from Kozuki Castle. Briefly, at Lord Nobutada’s camp.” “That’s right—and yet you speak as though we hadn’t met for years.” “It was merely that something—a certain feeling—suddenly occurred to me.” “To the point of mistaking you for someone else.” “Why? Why would you feel that way?” “In my thoughts, even if a person remains unchanged and little time has passed, perhaps the shifting nature of their heart has led this one to perceive them thus.”

“…………”

Murashige made a sour face. The young girl had been timidly offering a ceramic tobacco pipe packed with nanban tobacco for some time, but even though he looked at it, he did not reach out. He moved the armrest that had been placed on the left to the right and repositioned it, then reversed the angle of his posture, “Heh, heh, heh…,” he laughed for the first time. And then, abruptly this time, he changed the topic, “How fares Lord Chikuzen?” he asked. Kanbei also discarded that answer and, ignoring the earlier topic he had raised,

“My master, Kodera Masataka, has conveyed his utmost regards.” he said. Murashige fluttered his eyelids, which bore faint pockmark scars, “Are you in Gochaku now?” “Are you at Hirai Mountain?” “I have returned to Gochaku.”

“I see. “How many days?” “It has been recent, though…” “In that case, when you say you’ve come today as a messenger—you have not come as Lord Chikuzen’s envoy, but rather as Lord Kodera’s?” “That is correct.—This was also my oversight.” “First, I humbly request that you deign to peruse this letter from my lord Masataka.”

“Well...” He motioned to the maid with his chin to relay the message, and in that moment—for the first time—took the nanban tobacco from the young girl’s hand with one hand, drew a long puff, and returned it. He unsealed the letter before Kanbei’s eyes. As he read on, complex emotions rippled across Araki Murashige’s face. The man was honest by nature. His features could never mask the turmoil within. Kanbei observed it all. Though he could not read the letter itself, the shifting expressions told him enough.—A wise man drowns in his own wisdom.— In hindsight, this misjudgment would prove the gravest failure of Kanbei’s life.

II From Kanbei’s perspective—if Kodera Masataka was urging him through that document to submit to Nobunaga—it was only natural for Murashige’s expression to change; indeed, it revealed just how emphatically his lord Masataka had stressed this in the letter’s contents—so he had nodded to himself in agreement.

Yet there it was—the truth. How could he have anticipated it? The contents of Masataka’s letter defied all expectation. In other words, Masataka had deemed it profoundly unwise to assassinate Kanbei himself, and anticipating unrest in the surrounding regions, had written within the letter: Our house elder Kanbei has been dispatched to you as an envoy; however, as this man has long been an obstinate adherent of the Oda faction, his continued presence renders full implementation of our alliance with the Mōri clan and your esteemed self exceedingly difficult. I earnestly entreat you to seize this opportunity to run him through within your castle walls and ensure he never returns to Chūgoku again—

Such was the intent that had been written in the letter.

With the very man in question standing before him—the honest Murashige could not help but blanch involuntarily. Murashige was utterly flustered. Yet Kanbei—whose strategic acumen was acknowledged by all, himself included—had misread that very reaction. Later, people would lament why he had not verified the letter’s intent even once when facing such peril—but after all, he had come bearing his lord’s missive as a retainer. Even if he knew a death warrant lay sealed within it, breaking the seal to steal a glance would never be permitted for a warrior—and for Kanbei himself, it would mean dishonor.

In any case, this was Itami Castle—a place where rebellion had been raised, where men saw the world through bloodshot eyes, and where battle might erupt at any moment amid seething bloodlust. Kanbei’s life no longer belonged to him. Alongside Masataka’s letter, it now lay clutched in Araki Murashige’s hands. “Hmm… So Lord Kodera sends counsel here?” “I am obliged, but regarding the Lord of Settsu’s present resolve—there are depths no tongue can plumb.” “...Kanbei. First, ease your posture. Let us converse leisurely.” “What say you—shall we adjourn yonder?”

After muttering this to himself, Murashige ordered his retainers to prepare food and drink, then abruptly stood up and once again faced Kanbei. “We shall discuss this thoroughly later.” “I will explain my intentions.” “I shall have you guided now—wait over there.”

With those words, he retreated into the inner chambers. A young attendant came to suggest a bath, but Kanbei refused. And he requested hot water. The one who brought that hot water was a tea ceremony attendant. Urging politely, the attendant said: “The preparations for the separate room are complete.” “Since it is cooler over there than here, would you be so kind as to move?” “Then I shall entrust myself to your guidance.” Following that person, Kanbei began to walk. Though it was late autumn, the day’s lingering heat clung unbearably. He suddenly recalled the chill autumn air of 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 conspicuous furnishings. When they saw him settle onto the seat, the tea ceremony attendants immediately lifted their unsettled hips,

“His Lordship will arrive shortly.” With this, they began withdrawing as though fleeing.

III Due to this room’s layout and structure and the tea master’s behavior, Kanbei immediately sensed something amiss— “Wait!” “Wait! Tea Master—” he called out to stop him. The moment he was called from behind, the tea master fled as if tumbling away. Kanbei then tried to rush out into the corridor, but it was already too late. Araki Murashige’s retainers came with plain spears at the ready. Like hawks, they leapt into another room. There too were men crouching with weapons at the ready, lying in wait. As soon as they sprang up, they vigorously grappled with Kanbei.

He wrenched free with all his might. The house groaned as if its beams were shaking. They threw him, but Kanbei fell with equal force. Instantly, four or five warriors charged in with body tackles. Kanbei's legs kicked those enemies four or five times. Yet he immediately recognized the futility. For already the room brimmed with Araki retainers and blades until neither walls nor screens could be seen.

“What will you do with me?”

Kanbei sat up straight. Of course, both his arms were already bound behind his back with coarse rope. Blood was flowing from the abrasion on his cheekbone where it had been rubbed against the tatami.

“Rise.” “We know nothing beyond our lord’s command to escort you.” “I see.” “Lord Settsu’s orders, then?” After saying just this, he said nothing more and obediently allowed himself to be led where they took him.

This place was not atop the castle tower, but the path they were being led along required descending dark stairs twice. Kanbei could no longer withstand the premonition akin to smelling his own blood or the cold creeping up the roots of his bristling hair. Step by step, as he descended the stairs, he harbored self-mockery—Humans, no matter how resolutely they may prepare themselves for death in their daily lives, when actually confronted with the moment, find themselves utterly powerless against this physiological terror.

“Hey! Someone!” “Won’t you take alight and lead?” The warriors huddled together and stood still.

It was a darkness and coldness as though they had descended to the bottom of a swamp. Surveying the cavernous basement where only thick pillars could be seen, Kanbei— "So, this is where I will meet my end." And at last, he found within his heart—and simultaneously felt—a sense of tranquility.

Suspicion

I

The more adversity he faced, the stronger he became. He—who turned every adversity into a stepping stone, carving open unforeseen destinies with unrelenting vigor—even Nobunaga had indeed tasted bitter worries these past several dozen days in this current crisis. There was no need to say that he harbored fury in the depths of his heart toward Araki Murashige’s rebellion—which had forced this bitter cup upon his lord—but even so, he suppressed it and waited steadfastly,

(Patience too is strategy. (If framed as military tactics, even patience becomes bearable.) Having crushed his natural disposition, when reflecting on these two months of utmost effort—dispatching appeasement envoys repeatedly to Itami, attempting to mollify Murashige, striving to contain this incident as an internal affair—one could well imagine how deeply Itami’s betrayal and its consequences had wounded him. Yet that appeasement, those conciliatory measures—in the end, none bore fruit.

First dispatching Kunaikyō Hōin—a cleric close to Murashige—to persuade him, then sending Akechi Hyūga-no-kami to further press the appeal, and even appointing Manmi Senchiyo as an envoy—the fact that he earnestly urged Murashige’s prudence three times as his lord—this demonstrated how Nobunaga had indeed endured what should have been unendurable, making clear just how gravely his position had been plunged into direst adversity. The campaign in Chūgoku had only just begun and was already encountering setbacks that made favorable progress difficult to foresee, while the Honganji forces in Osaka grew ever more rampant, gauging the moment to launch their offensive now that the time had come. Moreover, when surveying the eastern provinces, was it not that a new alliance between Kai and Sagami was being formed, triggered by the marriage between Hōjō Ujimasa’s daughter and Takeda Katsuyori? This too was a dark northern wind adding another worry to the Oda house.

“……I was mistaken.” Nobunaga realized. “In being momentarily swayed by appeasement measures and letting days pass, I may inevitably reach the worst possible outcome where all strategies prove futile.—Yes! Nobunaga must act as only Nobunaga’s innate nature allows.” He discarded the lenient “treatment.” Then departing from Azuchi, he assembled a large army at Nijō New Palace and deployed forces across all of Settsu Province.

II

The timing was fateful.

The whereabouts of Kuroda Kanbei reached the ears of Nobunaga, who was in such a position. “What? Kanbei has been imprisoned within Itami Castle?…”

He had also heard the circumstances surrounding this, but the moment Nobunaga learned of it, his eyes suddenly flared with suspicion. As is often the case with those of keen intuition, when it backfires, it readily turns into suspicion. Nobunaga did not accept the superficial reasons and circumstances as fact. “Who ordered Kanbei to counsel Araki Murashige?” “Even Hideyoshi would not do such a thing without my permission.” “You claim he came bearing a letter from Kodera Masataka, but that very fact defies comprehension.” “For what reason would Kodera of Gochaku—who now clearly colludes with Murashige in rebellion—send Kanbei to counsel Murashige at this late hour?”

The emotions he had suppressed until now—as he spoke thus to the generals flanking him—found this small volcanic vent and burst forth in fury. "That bastard deceived Lord Chikuzen and has surely entered Itami Castle." "He was told by Kodera to join Murashige’s war council and contribute his stratagems, and was also invited by Murashige himself—thus he must have cunningly infiltrated their ranks. For why else would Murashige keep him breathing within those walls?" "Being thoroughly versed in Hideyoshi’s field deployments and privy to our Oda clan’s inner workings, Murashige would covet such a man." "For a schemer of his ilk, this reeks of plausibility…"

Nobunaga concluded his muttering with self-mockery. However, once he opened his tightly pressed lips, he coldly issued this cruel command to Sakuma Uemon, who stood nearby. “Send a letter to Lord Chikuzen immediately.—Order him to behead Matsuchiyo, Kanbei’s hostage long entrusted to him, and present the head.”

“Understood.” Sakuma Nobumori, too, bowed his head calmly 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 write it. “Attack Kodera of Gochaku and, in one stroke, crush Kuroda Sōen of Himeji Castle as well.” Such was the command.

III Takayama Ukon of Takatsuki Castle and Nakagawa Kiyohide, castellan of Ibaraki Castle, were the two wings flanking Araki Murashige's stronghold at Itami. After deploying a massive army and advancing his headquarters from Yamazaki to Tennōzan, Nobunaga succeeded in persuading both commanders to defect. As Takayama Ukon was a fervent Christian, Nobunaga strategically employed his missionary mentor Organtino to negotiate Takatsuki Castle's surrender. Meanwhile, Nakagawa Kiyohide—who had never genuinely supported Murashige's rebellion—swiftly presented himself at Nobunaga's camp gate to atone for his involvement.

“Well done, well done—you have come to your senses.” “To swiftly recognize one’s errors and correct course—that is the essence of a warrior.” “Even Nobunaga shall harbor no lingering resentment.”

To pledge both his own satisfaction and their peace of mind, Nobunaga rewarded the two surrendered generals with vast amounts of gold and silver along with official commendations. This, too, revealed what lay in the depths of his heart—how Nobunaga had been troubled by this incident and even found joy in this single resolution.

——And so. The full-scale attack on Itami Castle finally began in December. Yet it would not fall. Araki’s forces lived up to their reputation for tenacity. During that brutal assault, Manmi Senchiyo—one of the attacking generals—perished in battle. Though they pressed forward fiercely enough to reach the walls multiple times, Itami Castle stood unshaken. “To press further now would be folly.” “Leave it be—it will crumble in time.”

Nobunaga had fortifications built 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 military forces to urgently dispatch as reinforcements to Harima Province while completely severing communications with the Honganji faction on another front. All such military preparations were thoroughly reorganized under the expectation that Mōri's grand army would advance eastward by land and sea during this opportunity.

Nobunaga perceived that Murashige’s bravado stemmed not from his own strength but from reliance on the imminent arrival of Mōri Terumoto’s naval forces—which would soon land en masse on Settsu’s shores—a pact sworn before the rebellion. Thus, he had already discerned both the subtle intricacies and the broader situation with startling clarity.

Lice and Wisteria Flowers

I

“Wall-gazing, wall-gazing—another day of wall-gazing.” "How many days must I stare into this darkness before I can gaze upon sunlight again?" Kanbei thought to himself alone.

Today too, morning broke somewhere.

No—the year too had already passed; Tenshō 6 was long gone. I think this year should be Tenshō 7, but I doubt whether spring has even come. "Those who dwell in darkness are weak creatures." When you bask in the sun, you scarcely give it a thought... Ah, but Zen and resolve—they exist precisely because one gazes upon its light. "Having come to this..." He gave a wry smile alone.

Counting on his fingers—since last October—these six months had passed like a living corpse amidst such solitary thoughts and darkness. During that time, what of his daily habits had been useful? First was his healthy body—but even this he could no longer be sure of lately. He had not bathed once nor wiped himself with water; his skin had become like pinecone scales from grime and the winter’s chill. Just when it grew slightly warmer, mysterious sores began to break out all over his body. Sores had erupted even down to the roots of his hair.

As for food, only what could truly be called prisoner’s rations were provided twice daily—morning and evening—by jailers through the sturdy lattice bars of the window. Yet, by patiently chewing this brown rice and vegetables ten times more thoroughly than usual—turning them into a paste in his mouth before swallowing—he managed to absorb a considerable amount of nourishment. What was truly difficult was the inability to move. There were times when he would shuffle around this prison cell like a tiger in a cage, but lately, perhaps due to his weakened state, even that became exhausting. The rations alone were no longer sufficient. When starvation grew too severe, his empty stomach would thrash wildly within his belly—an unbearable agony.

“Staying still is best.” He himself assumed the zazen posture. Since his youth, he had been mindful of Zen practice, but this was far from true immersion—nothing more than imitation—and focusing on it consciously only made him more prone to mental states that stirred up delusions. ——And so, in the end, he decided to do nothing—to simply exist in a daze, as he was. If he grew slightly drowsy, he slept. If he wanted to open his eyes, he opened them. If his eyes became half-closed, then let them remain so—

“How truly precious life is.” I must admit, I’m impressed by my own tenacity. I knew full well that others must surely think—Why live at all? Better to die—and yet, I still did not want to die. But he had come to believe that this lingering attachment was not something to feel ashamed of upon self-reflection. Even if I were to gaze upon the sun again, it is not that I cling to a life with nothing to accomplish. “I have many things to accomplish.”

I cling to that conviction. It is life itself that begrudges being consumed for worldly tasks I pride myself on accomplishing—tasks no one else could achieve but me.

If I were to die here like this— And he felt regret. Don’t struggle. Don’t grind your teeth. Thinking about it won’t change anything.

Rather, he himself appeared to be placating his own life.—And on days when a faint beam of outside light streamed through the high window here, he would pass the time in empty-minded contemplation, watching lice crawl across his knees and sleeves. The wind was his sole companion, offering solace.

II

“……Ah! To think a wisteria vine has entwined itself there…”

One day.

He opened his eyes wide in wonder. It was because he had discovered the tip of a vine bearing exceedingly tender wisteria buds on the thick zelkova frame of the high window cut into the eastern wall.

“Ah.” “It seems there’s a wisteria trellis outside there.” He learned of it for the first time.

“So that’s why... I could make sense of it. Wisteria trellises are often found by pond edges. Night after night—and sometimes during the day—I had thought those strange sounds outside were perhaps pond fish thrashing and leaping in the water. That explains why it’s so damp here...”

This day was a joy. He was comforted by this faint green of a tender vine. From the next morning onward, he would immediately look up at it upon waking. Though only a brief moment in the dawn, when pale sunlight streamed through, it grew all the more beautiful. And each day, the vine unfailingly stretched longer by one or two sun. “Yet even seeing this—spring was already past, and summer drew near. Since then, within this castle, there has been nothing but the sound of fish leaping... How has the world’s course unfolded?” He felt a faint anguish. Or rather—he might no longer possess even the vital energy to wail.

When he thought of the world—more than his child, more than his wife—his tears would not cease. As he considered Hideyoshi’s subsequent actions at the Hirai Mountain encampment, thoughts of Nobunaga’s position, the movements in Kinai, the state of affairs in the western provinces, and the developments in the eastern provinces rose endlessly in his mind.

Around early December last year, for several days, he had heard unsettling noises centered around this castle. That was when—

(So it was a battle. So Lord Oda’s forces have advanced here.) With that, his heart raced alone, and he had steeled himself for what might come—but the day that would force death upon him never arrived thereafter, nor had he heard since the thrilling battle cries of besieging forces.

"The Oda forces' position is dire. If Mōri's naval forces were to land on Settsu's shores with their full fleet arrayed, it wouldn't stop at just Araki, Takayama, or Nakagawa Kiyohide—defectors raising rebel banners would emerge everywhere, and Azuchi would find itself trapped in an inescapable siege... No, perhaps that worst-case scenario has already come to pass." As he fixated on this thought, even Kanbei's grip on life grew fainter with each passing day. No matter where he searched within himself, he found nothing but impending ruin.

“Death be damned!” One day, when he suddenly recalled that thought, he found himself wanting to die, helplessly. The flesh-and-bone body sustaining life was battling such daily torment. Like a lamp wick that had burned out, when his mental strength declared its depletion, even if his body remained as it was—without any blade or other force applied—it seemed it would collapse with a thud like rotten wood and end.

“Wait.” He told himself.

With a desperation as thick as dripping oil, he commanded his own body.

"I can die at any time. Wait a little longer...Ah, that wisteria vine on the high window has grown thick enough to bear short clusters ready to bloom. ...Yes—whether white or pale purple—I'll stay until those flowers open." Perhaps due to poor sunlight exposure, though the clusters hung heavy, their blooming remained delayed. "Ah—they've bloomed this morning. ...Was it purple?" Several days had passed. Within morning light filtering through cracks, he saw vivid wisteria blossoms. He crawled beneath the window and stretched his hand upward—still too short to reach the dangling clusters.

Yet, the scent spilling from purple clusters bathed in pale morning sunlight assailed Kanbei's face with intoxicating force. He lay supine, mouth gaping like an imbecile, entranced. "...An auspicious sign."

Suddenly he shouted. He lacked the physical strength to leap up but felt an impulse throughout his body greater than if he had. Unusually, a flush of blood colored his forehead. "For wisteria to bloom in a prison cell—such a thing is impossible. In tales from China or in this Japan, no precedent exists of such a thing being heard. ……Don’t die. A divine revelation that said, 'Wait and it will bloom.' That’s right—a divine revelation!" He pressed his palms together and bowed in prayer to the wisteria flowers. From his sleeve cuffs, lice crawled out and frolicked amidst the faint shadows of morning sun and wisteria’s scent.

The Ageless Retiree

One In many ways, his sudden calamity cast great ripples through society. Precisely because he had until mere moments prior been a leading figure vaulting across the realm’s grand stage, the abrupt vanishing of his presence naturally stirred society’s suspicions. Yet above all, it was Kuroda Kanbei’s provincial allies and those of his ancestral home at Himeji Castle who suffered the greatest shock. Chief among them were his aged father Sōen and Kanbei’s still-youthful wife.

“Was it an insect’s foreboding… On that day of parting alone, despite bracing myself for the usual scolding over my lack of decorum, I went to see you off as far as the avenue at the castle’s edge… But now that I think on it… your complexion then… your condition… I should have realized something was amiss…” And so his wife lamented over and over, clutching the letter from Matsuchiyo that her husband had thrown to her during that time, until finally, overwhelmed by tears, she took to her sickbed, unable to even lift her pillow.

“What are you sniveling about? A warrior’s wife—”

Even as Father-in-law Sōen scolded her so, he never once relented. The more he tried to console her, the more it stirred up her feminine heart without end—this must have been why. This man, who was normally gentle with his daughter-in-law, had for the past ten days given nothing but demon-like rebukes. No, not just his daughter-in-law. Although he was already advanced in years and held a semi-retired status, once word came that his son Kanbei had been imprisoned in Itami’s dungeons with his subsequent survival unknown, this white-haired old crane—

“The rise and fall of our clan and retainers now stands imminent.” “Though aged, how could I, Kuroda Sōen, sit idly watching this house’s destruction?” Summoning the vigor of twenty years past, he glared at his despondent household like a crag, exhorting them dawn till dusk: “Do not clamor! Do not waver! Do not despair! For in Himeji—I yet remain!” Once the dire tidings spread, solemn processions converged around Himeyama—eyes bloodshot, gates thrumming with cauldron-like urgency. Already, unwavering retainers sworn to shared death pressed through the threshold, heels trampling heels in their gathering.

And through those people, a desperate rescue squad for Kanbei’s deliverance was sworn into alliance.

The Kumano Goō oath paper clearly stated that any violation would incur divine punishment from all major and minor deities throughout Japan—Hachiman Daibosatsu, Atagoyama Gongen, and local tutelary gods alike. —and if one were to later see the names of those loyal retainers who affixed their blood-sealed signatures beneath that oath— Mori Yosaburō—Kitamura Rokubē Katsuyoshi—Kinugasa Kyūzaemon—Nagata Sansuke—Fujita Jinbē—Mihara Uosuke, Mihara Hayato—Ogawa Yosazaemon—Kuriyama Zensuke—Gotō Uemon—Miyata Jihee—Morita Tahei Among these members and others, on the date inscribed as "To the Lord of the Main Keep," one could see the notation "the fifth day of the eleventh month of Tenshō 6."

Two The sworn alliance of the Desperate Rescue Squad for Their Lord and its signed pledge were formed immediately—yet until this policy was decisively settled, there had been no shortage of anguish and indecision within the household, heated debates had arisen, and radical plans for suicidal actions had been earnestly contemplated.

“If we press Murashige to demand Lord Kanbei’s rescue, we must inevitably side with Murashige.” “In that case, we must steel ourselves for Lord Matsuchiyo’s life—given as a hostage to Lord Nobunaga—to be forfeited without question. Yet if, to protect Lord Matsuchiyo’s life, our faction demonstrates unwavering loyalty to the Oda side, then Lord Kanbei’s life—trapped in prison under Murashige’s venomous grasp—will ultimately prove impossible to preserve.”

This was the dilemma that plagued the members of the household faction before they could settle on a course of action, and it was also the point where their debates diverged. In truth, if they actively sought to save their lord, they would have no choice but to abandon their lord's hostage to his fate; if they tried to protect the young lord held hostage, it would result in ending their imprisoned lord's life. ……How to break through this great predicament was the problem. And no matter how much they shed tears of blood or gnashed their teeth in anguish, no brilliant plan to ensure the safety of both parties emerged.

“Yet to let Retired Lord Sōen or Her Ladyship on her sickbed hear of this and humbly inquire which path to take…the anguish makes it impossible for anyone to speak.” For days, the retainers had secretly debated this among themselves. When word inevitably reached Sōen’s ears, he suddenly appeared one night at their assembled gathering.

“To hesitate is folly! I had already resolved this in my heart long ago.” And as the Retired Lord, he pronounced his verdict.

His pronouncement went thus: “Abandon Kanbei.” “For this reason—Kanbei, bearing his lord’s command, went to Itami Castle, only to be imprisoned through Murashige’s vile scheme.” “The righteous and wicked lords alike—the eyes of the realm—would any among them condemn him as a traitor?” “Even were my son Kanbei slain in that prison, to perish fulfilling his lord’s charge is a warrior’s fundamental duty.” “Not even Sōen would harbor regrets.” “……Should our Himeji faction now succumb to clinging sentimental delusions—should we break our sworn pact with Lord Nobunaga, betray righteousness, and discard honor—even were Kanbei to return alive, we warriors would be left bereft of name and pride.” “We would merely scrape by in disgrace, picking crumbs among men-at-arms—what worth could such a life hold for those born to walk the samurai’s path? ……Hesitation serves no purpose.” “Abandon Kanbei! Cast him resolutely aside and devise your strategies!”

Having said that, Retired Sōen immediately returned to the inner quarters. He pretended not to hear the solemn crowd behind him sobbing together—

The Kumano Goō oath paper was indeed produced immediately afterward. Then thirteen men pressed their blood seals to it.

“Since we have clearly witnessed the Retired Lord’s resolve, it is as though we possess the strength of a hundred men. We harbor no disloyalty toward the Oda. We cannot leave Araki Murashige’s treachery unpunished to the very end—yet as retainers, abandoning our lord in prison to die is unthinkable. We thirteen shall each alter our appearances, infiltrate enemy territory within Itami Castle, and lie in wait. Even should we endure any hardship of perseverance and vengeance—may Hachiman Daibosatsu and our tutelary gods bear witness—we swear by our very lives that we will surely rescue Lord Kanbei!”

Thus did they swear their unwavering resolve to all the gods of heaven and earth. Thus resolved, these thirteen alone would slip out of Himeji and infiltrate Itami; yet before their departure, they found themselves compelled to rigorously fortify Himeji Castle’s defenses. The Lord of the Main Keep—that is, Retired Sōen—became the central figure, and those remaining in the stay-behind group too came to be selected exclusively from desperately determined individuals. For due to longstanding ties, within Himeji there were also many non-native retainers intermingled—those who had come as attached retainers from the Kodera family of Gochaku.

Sōen declared.

“Though never sought by our hand, the Kodera and Kuroda families now stand divided—enemies clear as day.” “Therefore, let all guest retainers from Kodera make ready without delay and return to former masters.” “You who served long years—this parting pains me, yet ’tis but chaos born of these troubled times.” “Through shared trials we forge peace’s path… Let us drink farewell and meet smiling on tomorrow’s field!”

After that, a grand feast was held, and cups were presented to all present.

However, even after this farewell banquet concluded, not a single person made preparations to depart or declared their intent to return to Kodera. The next morning, nearly all the former Kodera family retainers appeared before Sōen carrying a bundled pledge, requesting to remain as members of the Kuroda household. This was naturally a great joy for Sōen and the entire household; their request was granted, and from that day onward, they were formally incorporated into the ranks of the family’s pure and simple hereditary retainers.

“The rest is in your hands.” Having confirmed that their home front’s ironclad defenses were thus secured, the thirteen members of the desperate squad set out individually for enemy territory in Itami from the year’s end through spring.

A Tormented Heart Astride a Donkey

I

“A lapse unbefitting Kanbei…”

And when Hideyoshi learned of his whereabouts, he let out a solitary cry of lamentation. "For a wise man to fall into Murashige’s hackneyed schemes is most unwisdom-like," he muttered. But sinking into deep thought amid his sorrow—or rather reconsidering—he concluded otherwise. Many of those lauded as wise strategists in this world were frivolous petty tacticians. Kanbei lacked such traits. He had flaws. He had honesty. He was a man who even possessed what one might call foolish integrity.

“As a warrior, this blunder is by no means his disgrace.—Judging by Araki Murashige’s inability to kill him, it must be that he still clings to some lingering attachment, seeking to make him an instrument for his allies.” “Heaven still deigns to grant him life.” At his encampment on Mount Hirai—even as he faced the still-unbreachable Miki Castle, even as he bore a heart heavy with sorrow—Hideyoshi prayed daily for heaven’s will to preserve Kanbei from afar. And with a thousand-year resolve, he awaited how swiftly his lord Nobunaga’s forces might storm down upon Itami’s traitorous vassals.

However, Nobunaga’s order was, unexpectedly, (Kanbei’s actions arouse suspicion of disloyalty. Immediately divide your forces and attack Himeji. and capture Father Sōen and the clan) Thus came the command.

Hideyoshi felt a lonely pang, yet from its depths, a smile that did not reach his face welled up. For he had already steeled himself to accept that Nobunaga’s suspicions had resurfaced—if only to the extent of thinking, Here we go again. Does that man not understand? That alone struck him as strange. Yet when he considered the current hardships in Azuchi, he could understand why his lord might feel that way—indeed, from afar, he could almost feel the ache in his lord’s heart with sympathy. "All I need do is wait for the right day." "The crime of not swiftly obeying your command is solely due to Hideyoshi’s lack of merit—if I but prepare myself for your later rebuke…"

He had kept it hidden in his own heart. Yet another matter had now arisen that could not remain concealed—the disposal of the hostage Matsuchiyo. It had been reported in detail by Hanbei himself that Sakuma Nobumori, acting as Nobunaga’s envoy, had visited him at his modest retreat in Nanzen-ji’s precincts within the capital, where he devoted himself solely to recuperating from illness. (—According to Lord Nobumori’s account, Lord Nobunaga had expressed extraordinary fury over Kuroda-dono’s personal actions. Should Lord Kuroda’s hostage currently be in Lord Chikuzen’s custody, you are hereby strictly commanded to execute him without delay. As Lord Sakuma saw fit to involve even myself in this decision, there was naturally no grounds for refusal—thus I respectfully conveyed my consent. By the time this missive reaches your hands, Lord Sakuma will likely have issued you a similar directive. I report this for your immediate awareness.)

It was something of that nature. This left Hideyoshi completely perplexed. At Nobunaga's affection—that heart-fire both fiercely blazing and chillingly cold—tears nearly spilled forth. He couldn't help feeling bitter resentment on Kanbei's behalf—must you go to such extremes? Yet here too he abruptly shifted course, his mood brightening suddenly as— "He has a fiery nature." "Normally warm as sunlight, but once roused to crimson flames, he'll scorch both others and himself... When burning thus, nothing reaches his ears."

With this, he calmed his heart alone, and in his reply to Takenaka Hanbei, (Do not neglect Lord Nobunaga’s commands from Azuchi. I leave all matters to your discretion. Serve diligently with Hideyoshi’s intentions in mind) he sent his reply with these words.

II

It was a cold where snow could still be seen on plum branches. Spring had come, and it was early February. In this area known for its piercing cold—the Keage basin where Nanzen-ji Temple stood—a gaunt young man who resembled a scholar-recluse emerged from one of its lodgings and mounted his horse at the temple gate. Since last autumn, he had secluded himself in the temple lodgings there, devoting himself solely to medicine and recuperation—this was Takenaka Hanbei, the ailing tactician. Only one samurai attended him. The attendant carried his master’s medicine in a bundle on his back.

“Are you not cold? You seem to be coughing frequently.” “The outside is indeed cold. It will take time to grow accustomed to this east wind’s chill. The cough will subside soon—the sun too shall grow warmer.” “Would it not be better to wear your hood?” “No—even now, eyes watch with suspicion. Were I to walk veiled in daylight, they would whisper that Hanbei Shigeharu plots anew—those meddlesome gazes would surely stir rumors.”

As for this incident—the matter of Kuroda Kanbei—he too had been deeply pained in heart. Simultaneously, he felt as though a cold breath—poignant as February’s east wind—had been blown upon his very philosophy of life. In his youth, he had secluded himself in the mountains, but persuaded by Hideyoshi, he finally emerged. For these long ten-odd years, he had walked all manner of paths—through streets of blood and perilous ways of the world—yet still, his heart remained in the mountains, never fully becoming one of the lowlands. All I wish is,

If only the day would come when Lord Chikuzen might obtain the position he ought to hold even a day sooner, and bestow upon all the joy of harmonious peace. He had prayed for that alone and made supporting it his sole duty, but his illness grew more severe with each passing year. (Until then, staying alive would be difficult given my failing health.)

Recently, he came to accept this fact alone. Therefore, he thought his long-cherished hope would have to be satisfied with merely seeing the Chūgoku campaign reach some semblance of a conclusion. Without speaking of it to friends or to Hideyoshi, he always kept a kesa robe and juzu beads among his personal effects. For when that day arrived, he wished to request leave from Hideyoshi and ascend to Mount Kōya—if only for a year before his life ended—to listen to the songs of bush warblers.

"Whether it can be achieved or not, harboring a wish brings joy... Though it will likely never come to pass. The Chūgoku campaign too cannot be wrapped up in such a short time. But be that as it may—I would prefer to die on the battlefield like a warrior." He still thought.

The horse bearing his sickly frame entered the Mino Road after two nights’ lodging. And with donkey-like sluggish legs, it proceeded immediately into the western mountains.

He arrived at Bodaizan 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 household members stood at the castle gate to greet him. Upon entering the castle, Hanbei immediately inquired of an old retainer. “Has there been any change in Lord Kuroda’s hostage?” “Did he pass through this winter without catching a cold?”

The old retainer looked out from the veranda at the castle’s flat garden, then pointed toward the area where patches of mountain grass appeared yellow in the far distance. “Ah, do look, my lord—today as well, he has gathered the children of your household and is energetically romping about with them as you see.” “Let me see…”

Hanbei too rose from his sickbed and stepped out there. He was a man who carried Azuchi’s command within his heart. In his eyes lay a deep sorrow he could not conceal.

The Child of Bodaizan

I

There were many mischievous children in the household. Yet among those playmates, Matsuchiyo alone—though he had both father and mother—had been taken far from his parents' care to become a hostage in another land.

“Ah… Uncle.” “Uncle.” Matsuchiyo had been engrossed in play with a crowd of children when he suddenly noticed Hanbei Shigeharu standing at the edge of the main keep’s veranda—the moment he saw him he abandoned his friends and came dashing over.

“—Uncle.” “Welcome back.”

“Oh, O-Matsu. You look well.” “Because Uncle hadn’t come to see me at all for so long, I was terribly lonely. Uncle. When did you return?” “Just now.”

“Just now?” “Right.” “I had no idea at all.”

In the garden, Matsuchiyo stood on tiptoes and clung to the hem of the hakama belonging to the person on the veranda. He played around by wrapping his face in the hakama’s hem. (How desperately affectionate he is...) (Was it because he had been separated from his parents and raised by distant strangers?) As he watched this, Hanbei’s heart swelled with compassion. “Come on up. I’ll give you a souvenir from the capital.”

He gave the boy sweets he had received from Nanzenji Temple and played with him for a while.

It had already been two years since they took him into their care from Nagahama and raised him in this mountain castle, and Matsuchiyo was now twelve. The Kuroda family had sent attendants such as Iguchi Hyōsuke and Ōno Kurōzaemon to serve as his caretakers, but the Takenaka family treated him almost as if he were Hanbei’s own eldest son. They had provided him with tutors in classical studies, archery, and horsemanship, protecting and nurturing him as though he were a precious jewel.

The day after returning to his home province.

Hanbei walked alone at the foot of Bodaizan Mountain. He had come to visit his ancestors’ graves.

Then, as though they had been waiting for his return journey, two samurai were crouching by the roadside. Looking closer, they were Iguchi Hyōsuke and Ōno Kurōzaemon, Matsuchiyo’s caretakers from the Kuroda family.

“We must apologize for this unspeakable discourtesy in accosting you by the roadside.” “There is a matter we must most humbly entreat of you on this occasion.” The two pressed their faces into the withered grass as though seeking to bury themselves. Before they could utter a word regarding their petition, Hanbei had already discerned the emotion conveyed through their trembling voices and tears as one.

II

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

Hanbei led the two men to a sunny spot in the shade of a sparse grove. He used the warm withered miscanthus grass as a cushion and sat down. The two retainers lay prostrate before him, still weeping.

“There’s no need to say more. I well understand your feelings.” After hearing the essence of their desperate appeal, Hanbei consoled them thus. As he had anticipated, these men had already learned through widespread rumors of both Kanbei’s unforeseen calamity within Itami Castle and Nobunaga’s severe decree regarding Matsuchiyo’s disposition. They had even intuitively grasped that Lord Hanbei—their castle’s master—had returned despite his illness because he could scarcely refuse Azuchi’s command, and that this must have appeared to signal the execution of Matsuchiyo, whom they had raised and nurtured.

(We humbly beseech you—take our two lives in exchange for our master’s Lady Wakako.)

Thus having waited by the roadside, they had come to plead. They had made this direct appeal after considering that if word were to spread within the household, objections would naturally arise and there would be no chance of their plea being granted. "From the beginning," he said, "your master and I have shared a bond of no shallow acquaintance." "However binding Azuchi's command may be, why would we callously offer up Lord Kanbei's precious heir as a severed head?... There's no need to worry." "Leave this matter to me."

His consolation was sincere. Encountering such compassion only made the two guest retainers weep all the more. Hanbei could not bear to look at their condition. I had thought there was nothing more pitiful than the fate of a hostage—but that was born of my own ignorance of the world and lingering naivety. Yet when I pondered the hardship and difficulty borne by these caretakers—kneeling in submission, protecting an innocent child raised in another household, maintaining unwavering loyalty even in exile, and standing ready to exchange their lives for his should crisis arise—I came to think that the truly pitiable ones were not the hostage, but rather these individuals.

III He often walked through the castle town. The castle was small, the town a mountain village. If they recognized him as their lord, those by the roadside or figures in the fields would hurriedly press their foreheads to the ground, but Hanbei’s outings always took on a guise that could be called incognito, without any pomp. Hanbei disliked walking about flamboyantly in the manner befitting a castle lord.

Moreover, his recent walks had a hidden purpose in mind. As long as this remained unresolved, his illness seemed to worsen with each passing day. “Ah… I still cannot bring myself to cut down a child.” “If it were a child of poor peasants, my pity would only grow stronger, making me unable to strike; and if I saw a cherished child from a town household, merely witnessing their parents and innocence would render my own intentions terrifying.” Hanbei Shigeharu—who once wore lacquered armor and laid Tora Gozen’s great sword at his side, who as strategist among three armies could capture a thousand soldiers with one stratagem and seize a hundred armies with a single scheme, who would not so much as twitch an eyebrow even when annihilating them—now found himself unable to strike down and return with even one child’s head, though he sought it desperately; even when he spotted a child among his domain’s people who might suffice, he simply could not bring himself to do it.

Whenever he saw a child on the road who resembled Matsuchiyo，his heart would leap unbidden．When he saw a child in the fields who appeared to be of similar age，his mind would turn to the one beneath the nearby thatched roof，and he found himself unable to kill．

“Fundamentally, such a scheme is the lowest of low strategies.” “Is there no other good plan?” I had pondered this for several nights, but ultimately, Nobunaga—in his characteristic impatience—was demanding that we cut down and present one. The only thing that could substitute for a child’s head was another child’s head. The sole glimmer of hope lay in judging Nobunaga’s temperament—even if they presented a head that was not Matsuchiyo’s, Azuchi’s command would likely be temporarily appeased. Nobunaga had seen Matsuchiyo only once two years prior, and among Azuchi’s retainers, scarcely any knew his appearance well.

Even Sakuma Nobumori had sent formal reminders per his duties but conducted no rigorous oversight. Moreover Nobunaga and his Azuchi retainers were consumed by military campaigns and battlefield affairs. "If I can just placate them for this moment," he thought,"time itself will settle all." "If only we might endure this immediate trial..."

Hanbei firmly believed this, yet even so, a child’s head was needed—something to present before Nobunaga for now. A child’s head. Ah—he couldn’t help but let out a sigh. “We have found a solution.”

One evening. The two caretakers, Ōno and Iguchi, hurriedly approached the veranda of his quarters without waiting for an attendant. Though such an act would normally be unforgivable, Hanbei immediately discerned from the appearance of what Ōno Kurōzaemon carried bundled in his sleeve that this was precisely it. “Come in. … Close the door behind you immediately,” he said, ushering them inside while revealing a pained expression. “A head?” he asked. “Yes…” The two men wiped sweat from their brows yet still hesitated to present it, keeping the object concealed on Kurōzaemon’s lap.

“The truth is, a child who was fishing in the river shallows drowned.” “We saw the parents come and cling to him, weeping. We hurried to visit the priest at the family temple, explained our sincere plea, and requested the remains.” “…We did not lay hands on him ourselves.” Iguchi Hyōsuke’s face too showed desperate resolve. “Through our secret observations, we discerned your intention.” “Yet knowing your deeply compassionate heart would find it unbearable to demand such a thing—perceiving your anguish even through our meager judgment—we resolved to contrive this plan.” “We beseech you—use this to spare Lord Matsuchiyo’s life.” “Though we are but retainers of the Kuroda house, we shall engrave this debt in our hearts and never forget it while we draw breath.” “Should the day come when our humble lives might prove useful, we shall offer them up at any hour… We implore you.”

A page entered there carrying a candle.

Hanbei abruptly stood. “Both of you, won’t you come out to the garden?” he invited. Around this time, spring had deepened somewhat, and each night, a glistening moon rose over the mountain cherry blossoms in the garden.

That night, a small plain wooden box wrapped in white cloth and Hanbei's letter were sent via express horse to Sakuma Nobumori at Azuchi, borne by a retainer of the Takenaka house.

A few days later, the retainer returned with Nobumori’s receipt. According to the retainer’s report, Azuchi was now engulfed in such tension that there was no room for such matters; while the small box had been delivered from Nobumori to the castle, the reply stated that Nobunaga had apparently not even properly looked at it.

Hideout

I

Fresh greenery sprouted，the sun took on a summer hue，and people changed into lighter garments—yet in Itami Town，there was somehow no refreshing breeze． It lies stagnant． There is unease．

The nerves of Araki Murashige, lord of the castle, and all those barricaded within were mirrored directly in the townspeople as well.

“When will this become a battlefield?”

This unease stemmed both from the anxiety [of that question] and from the oppressive weight of finding themselves trapped in immobility, for Araki had completely sealed off his domain’s borders.

Moreover, the fact that not all of Itami’s townspeople necessarily supported the lord’s rebellion could also be considered one cause of the stagnant mood that hung over this town.

But within that very town, the households of artisans and merchants engaged in military supplies—armorers, lacquerers, dyers, blacksmiths, harness makers—were flourishing as if reveling in the present moment. Shiroganeya Shinpachi’s workshop could also be considered one of those establishments. It had a modest structure, about the size of a small residence; upon passing through its earthen walls, one would suddenly find themselves in a workshop. Small metal fittings for armor, decorative sword ornaments, horse gear components—all manner of gold and silver crafts requiring a decorative metalworker’s touch were crafted there. Small bellows, rapid hammering sounds, filing sounds—in the workshop, sixteen or seventeen men bent their backs and worked diligently.

Shinpachi also showed his face occasionally, but he mostly stayed holed up in the inner residence. He often gathered friends to play Go and drink sake. The inner residence and the workshop were separated by garden trees to such an extent that it became inconvenient when it rained.

“Okiku.” “Someone’s here.” “From the back gate.” He was now huddled with two guests, engaged in secret talks. Both were acquaintances who had stopped by yesterday on their way back from Arima Hot Springs and stayed overnight as travelers. “…A guest?” The travelers cast their eyes about. They had heard the alarm at the back gate. For guests wary of other guests, their eyes were too sharp. “No one of consequence would come through the back gate.… Stay as you are.”

Shinpachi's voice remained low. Stretching slightly forward, he peered at the retreating figure of his foster sister stepping through the kitchen entrance in work clogs.

II

Since around this spring, life in Shinpachi’s main house had completely changed. So too had its residents and their daily lives.

His wife, along with their many children, had at some point been sent back to her rural family home. On the surface, the reason given was not knowing when war would break out. In exchange, a beautiful foster sister named Kikujo, who was a few years past twenty, had come to help with the housework. If there were those who had bought the famous eye ointment at the main branch of Reishukō in Harima Shikama, they should have recognized this girl—but Kikujo rarely ventured out into the streets. She was the daughter of Shikama Yojirōemon, who had strictly concealed her true origins.

When Yojirōemon—though aged—learned of his Himeji lord Kanbei's calamity and the subsequent oath sworn by the life-risking rescue group, he, as a retainer indebted to successive generations of lords, fervently sought to join the Thirteen-Man Group. Yet his comrades deemed the old man a liability. However, to secure Shiroganeya of Itami—a relative of his—as their faction's covert gathering place, (If Okiku...) That became their unanimous view.

In all situations requiring secret strategies, women were not only convenient to employ but also highly effective when utilized. Following such discussions, after the life-risking rescue group had all successfully infiltrated this region, Okiku came here alone. And since that time, (Since a suitable person had come from relatives…)

She had been staying at Shinpachi’s residence; however, due to her striking beauty—rare even in Itami—rumors first spread from the mouths of the many workers in the workshop and then even among the neighboring houses. (That’s no foster sister.) Such baseless rumors ran rampant. Yet Shinpachi secretly welcomed being perceived this way.

For that too would become another layer of disguise for this hideout. “Oh….” “Welcome.”

Okiku opened the back gate from within and, upon seeing the traveling monk standing there, mumbled something before falling silent—simply ushering him inside and quietly closing the door behind them. Then she hurried at a trot to the small room where her foster brother was. “Lord Kinugasa Kyūzaemon has arrived.”

she reported. The two guests who were present, appearing to be townsfolk, “What? Lord Kinugasa…?” exchanged nostalgic glances. 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 horse handlers, traveling merchants, companions, street performers, and more—changing even their clothing and appearances through all manner of hardships.

“Oh. Lord Zensuke. And Lord Tahei is here too?” The monk Kinugasa Kyūzaemon entered after Okiku and placed his dirty travel bundle and hat at the edge of the veranda. Then, weakly, he came among his friends and sat down. “We hadn’t seen you for some time—had you gone somewhere far away? We had been worrying about your whereabouts here today as well.” When Morita Tahei peered in through the mask, Kyūzaemon shook his face even more listlessly and answered.

“—To Azuchi.” “What’s Azuchi doing?” “I went to see if they’d muster a full army to storm this paltry castle soon—but no sign of it.” “…And I brought back bitter tidings.” “What bitter tidings?” “Lord Matsuchiyo’s fate.” “That says enough.” “Men’s hearts prove faithless.” “…We’d prayed it false—but that Bodaisan schemer Hanbei bowed to Azuchi’s order and gave up the boy’s head… That starveling monk’s used up my last shred of courtesy.” “A counterfeit sage.” “A shit-for-brains strategist who’d strip a warrior’s honor bare… The shame—the pity—words fail.”

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

Kōyaji Temple Night Talks

I The fact that Matsuchiyo had been executed was widely believed throughout society. All the more so for the Kuroda samurai of a single alliance—men who had cared for their lord and his son day and night with devotion surpassing concern for their own lives—it was by no means unreasonable that they accepted this without time for deep reflection. “This grudge will surely be avenged! For now—until we rescue Lord Kanbei—our own lives are not our own! But someday without fail, we will make Hanbei Shigeharu understand this anguish!”

Not only Kinugasa Kyūzaemon but also Morita Tahei and Kuriyama Zensuke swore this oath through tears of grief. Kinugasa Kyūzaemon—still in monk's garb—borrowed the Buddhist altar room at Shinpachi's house. "A temporary memorial service," they declared, inscribing Matsuchiyo's secular name on the mortuary tablet before offering incense and flowers. Together with Tahei, Zensuke, and others, they prayed in reverent silence.

Unnoticed, the twilight was deepening. The cicadas were shrill.

“Okiku.” “A monk from Kōyaji Temple is here.” “Shall I show him in?” A craftsman from the workshop was shouting through the evening glory hedge toward the main house. Shinpachi saw Okiku and hurriedly waved his hand.

This was bad—a look signaling not to let him in. “Yes.” “I’ll be right there.” “Please wait a moment.”

Okiku understood her foster brother’s intent and rose with resolve. After a brief interval, she returned carrying a letter. Shinpachi saw this and methodically passed it to each person in turn. The missive came from Kōyaji Temple’s priest. Superficially an invitation to a tea gathering, it held concealed significance.

“Perfect timing.” “We too shall go all out.” Having made their pledge, the three eventually returned through the back gate. The town was already deep in evening. Shinpachi briefly showed his face at the workshop, took a bath, and then wandered out.

And from the edge of town, heading west about ten-odd chō, there stood Kōyaji Temple—an ancient sanctuary nestled within a cluster of trees in Koyagō. The Shingon sect abbot there and he had been friends for years. However, the abbot did not show himself; instead, one of the attendant monks quietly emerged to guide them, “Everyone has already gathered, sir.” and pointed to a room in the priest’s quarters. Gathered around a dim candle were over a dozen people—loyal retainers who had left Himeji and secretly infiltrated this enemy territory—assembled in hushed silence. Morita Tahei, Kuriyama Zensuke, Kinugasa Kyūzaemon, and others had already arrived there a step ahead.

II

The fourteen comrades gathered here needed to maintain constant readiness to assemble and disperse at will. However, being in an enemy castle town meant they could not act freely, but the priest of Kōyaji Temple had consistently provided them with both location and means. "This is something I happened to hear from a stablehand of the Araki family—the place where our lord Kanbei-sama is imprisoned is an armory near what people call Tengen Pond, by the wisteria trellis in the northern corner of the castle grounds. The only regret is that we’ve found no way to obtain a map."

These were the words of one of their comrades, Kitamura Rokuemon. Fujita Jinbei was also among them. “Well now, I too have caught wind of such rumors,” he said. “They say there’s long been a Tenmangu Shrine enshrined in Itami Castle’s northern corner. Seems the prison lies somewhere near there.” “Then first we must take comfort,” said Gondō Ujūrō, “in confirming His Lordship’s life remains secure… A blessing worth celebrating indeed.”

Gotō Uemon said sullenly—but soon afterward, when Kinugasa Kyūzaemon disclosed that their lord’s child, who had been kept as a hostage at Hōdaiyama Castle, had been executed and finally handed over from Takenaka Hanbei to Azuchi, the group... “Heartless!” they muttered through pursed lips. “Ah...” Swallowing tears of bitter frustration, they sat steeped in wordless rage and grief.

and pursed their lips, “Ah…”

And so, swallowing tears of bitter regret, they sat steeped in wordless wrathful grief. "It cannot be helped"—Morita Yosaburō, who stood as the elder among their band, shifted his tone and rallied them thus.

“That is that—let’s set it aside as a problem for later. Though we have treated Lord Kanbei as lost from the start, and though Lord Hommaru—his father—must now endure the bitter disappointment of learning that even Lord Matsuchiyo’s safety could not be secured… now is not the time for lamentation. Let us accept this bitter frustration as heaven’s lash. Even if we have to cling to rocks with our teeth, rescuing our lord from Itami Castle’s prison remains our most urgent task. Other than that, we won’t even glance elsewhere!”

“That’s right. Let us focus every shred of resolve on this alone and rally our efforts!” Miwara Uzō joined in. Yet when it came to concrete strategies, regrettably—though over half a year had passed since their arrival—they still found no means whatsoever to infiltrate Itami Castle and reach their lord in his prison cell.

Their sole reliance was that Shiroganeya Shinpachi, being what one might call an arms craftsman who also served as a supplier to the castle, might someday gain an opportunity to enter the castle grounds. At such a time, they secretly waited for even one among them to enter the castle by posing as disciples or craftsmen—but such an opportunity did not seem likely to come easily.

This night too, the group ultimately had no choice but to part ways in vain. And so, parting ways with the resolve that on the day of their reunion they would each seek out every possible means and lead, Shinpachi was hurrying home alone on his way back when, at the town’s entrance, someone called out to stop him. “Shiroganeya.” “Returning now?” Startled, Shinpachi peered at the figure through the starlight—clad in armor and carrying a spear. He felt as though he had seen him somewhere before.

III

“It’s me.” “Kato Hachiyata, retainer of Itami Hyōgo-no-kami!” “Ah! You’re the one, sir. My apologies.” “Aren’t you returning rather late?” “Where have you been returning from?”

Shinpachi was momentarily cornered, but being a man well-versed in worldly affairs, he skillfully deflected. “Speaking of lateness—well, you see, the repair of the armor fittings you ordered has been getting increasingly delayed.” “Well, you see—lately the craftsmen have been short-handed, I must say.” “Now, now, Shinpachi—what are you saying?” “No one’s demanding repairs for damaged armor in a place like this.” Kato Hachiyata brought his bear-like face, buried in a beard, closer and opened his large mouth to laugh. No sooner had he done this than he switched the spear from his right hand to his left,

“Hey!”

and called out once more, then thudded his hand down on Shinpachi’s shoulder. “How about returning once more to Kōyaji Temple? …Don’t hide it; I know.” “Moreover, tonight’s security patrol in this area is under my charge, so you need not worry.” “After all, the squad leader on patrol is someone like me. Hahaha!” “...Sir.” “What?” “What is your reason for ordering me to return to Kōyaji Temple, sir?” “Don’t you get it?” “You’re such a dull one.” “I’m saying I’ll take my time and listen to the discussion you desire.”

“Huh? Then…” Shinpachi shuddered violently. And Hachiyata’s armored hand still resting on his shoulder felt as heavy as stone.

Lady Muro

I

They did not return all the way to Kōyaji Temple. However, pulled by Kato Hachiyata, Shinpachi went to the shade of a nearby forest. There, Hachiyata, “Sit on a tree root or whatever.” he said, and he himself plopped down into the grass. Though he was a samurai with an amusing temperament who often joked under normal circumstances, tonight his appearance was terrifying, and Shinpachi’s face showed his skin bristling. He had even steeled himself with a certain resolve. “To tell you the truth, Shinpachi—this may sound strange—that girl you call your foster sister from Shikama... What do you intend to do with her? Are you planning to marry her off if a good match comes along?”

Just when Shinpachi thought it must be something serious, Hachiyata’s proposition turned out to be this abrupt. Because it was far too abrupt, Shinpachi was flustered and grew even more suspicious of the other’s intentions. “My master, Lord Itami Hyōgo-no-kami. He’s advanced in years now with signs of palsy—no longer performs any military duties. But his second son Lord Wataru guards the castle’s rear northern gate. Seems Lord Wataru took notice of Okiku somehow—apparently saw her walking through town with a maid carrying parcels and a white parasol in hand. Ever since then,” Hachiyata leaned closer, “he’s sworn ‘That one will be my bride—none other.’ Insists he won’t take anyone but her.”

“Heh... Is that so?”

Finally, Shinpachi managed to produce something resembling a reply. Hachiyata was dead serious. It didn’t seem like a lie. “But you see—right now, we’re surrounded by Oda forces in this siege.” “I said there’s no way you could hold a wedding ceremony under these circumstances.” “So Lord Wataru isn’t fixated on the immediate present.” “His Lordship says you should at least get a promise from Shinpachi here.” “And what His Lordship says next is quite something.” “If I end up dying when the Oda forces finally attack Itami Castle, consider the promise void from the start—let Okiku marry into whatever household she likes. …He says a promise until that day is enough.”

“Ah… Is that so?” Shinpachi nodded. Given his trade, he understood well the disposition of young samurai in these times. Whether pursuing romance or commissioning a single splendid suit of armor, they carried always—even in their slumber—the worldview that “tomorrow may never come.” Yet their resolve to live today fully despite this impermanence burned just as fiercely. Within them, future dreams born of such yearnings and death’s imminent shadow were held together with cultivated grace, seamless as folded steel.

“—Shinpachi.” “You must think this a foolish proposal.” “You must also be considering matters like differences in social standing.” “No—the greater difficulty lies in this: between Itami Hyōgo-no-kami’s son, who belongs to Araki Murashige’s clan, and your sister, who has deep ties to the Kuroda family—this is a matter between enemies and allies. You must have concluded in your heart that such a discussion is utterly impossible to entertain.”

Shinpachi’s face turned pale again. It was because he was far too knowledgeable about their internal affairs.—But as Hachiyata began explaining the details, Shinpachi’s fear and suspicion were utterly transformed into something different. Kato Hachiyata was indeed an unforeseen covert sympathizer of the Kuroda samurai alliance.

II Itami Hyōgo-no-kami was once the most venerable indigenous landed clan in this vicinity.

But by then, such power had completely vanished. Since Araki Settsu-no-kami Murashige had risen to prominence, he had displaced their position. And the Itami family had been relegated to the margins as a clan in name only; even among Araki’s vassals, they had been all but forgotten in the rear ranks. Therefore, though they remained in Itami, their hearts still leaned toward the Oda family. In particular, Hyōgo-no-kami’s sons were attempting to seize this opportunity to restore their family’s fortunes. —and while secretly coordinating their observations of Kuroda Kanbei’s imprisonment within the castle and monitoring the movements of the samurai from the Kuroda family’s desperate rescue party who had infiltrated the castle town,

(When the opportunity arose, they would guide them [the Kuroda rescue party], through that achievement return to Lord Oda’s side, and thereby restore their own family’s fortunes in the process.) They had resolved to do so.

In particular, Itami Wataru, the second son of the Itami family, had confided even other matters to his retainer Kato Hachiyata. It concerned Okiku. Through Hachiyata’s mediation, this young samurai’s feelings proved pure-hearted. Though deeply committed, the premise of a life that might end tomorrow rendered his emotions both pristine and uncomplicated. "If I should fall in battle," he declared, "a promise until that day alone will suffice." "Agree to this." "Shinpachi." "In return, we shall add our strength to yours." "I speak plainly now for the first time—the Hyōgo-no-kami clan does not submit to Araki Murashige in truth." "They await with whole hearts the day Lord Oda’s forces press upon these castle walls."

In response to Hachiyata’s words, Shinpachi felt no reason to refuse, even as great joy welled up within him. The sincerity of his comrades had reached heaven—it even seemed as though divine will had sent this man down to earth now, so much so that he felt like clasping his hands in prayer to the gods for their aid. (But... The only problem is… Okiku’s feelings?)

Shinpachi was torn only by that. However, if Kanbei could be saved from death and the thirteen loyal comrades could thereby achieve their goal, he reasoned that whether his foster sister alone consented or not was no matter. Moreover, given that the young warrior in question also inclined his heart toward the Oda forces and counted among their sympathizers—he hardened his resolve.

“Lord Hachiyata. “It is exactly as you say.” “I entrust everything to your command.” He sat back down on the ground and placed both hands before Kato Hachiyata. Hachiyata patted his back again.

“Good. That way, I too can save face. I will lend full strength to your cause as well. …But let us part here tonight. We shall deliberate again another time.”

After parting with him and returning home, Shinpachi still felt an air of unreality about it all. Yet several days later, Hachiyata's messenger came to fetch him once more. This time they guided him to an aged estate in Itami's samurai district. There stood Hachiyata's residence, where his master Itami Wataru had arrived and waited.

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

III

Having unexpectedly found a sympathizer among a certain commander of the castle forces, the thirteen samurai of the Kuroda family— “Heaven too deigns to pity us. Our sincere hearts will surely reach their mark.” They were finally able to solidify that belief there. It felt as though, for the first time, they had glimpsed a single point of hope there amidst their wandering in a darkness akin to despair.

Fortunately, Itami Wataru had been temporarily assigned to guard the northern sally port gate for one night. Through his arrangements, on a dark night at the end of June, one of their comrades—Miwara Hayato, skilled in stealth—was to scale the castle walls, slip inside, and make his way to their lord’s prison near Tenjin Pond in the northern bailey to establish communication between those within and without.

However, this plan ended in splendid failure.

For even if Itami Wataru provided that convenience, the defense of the castle gates was not his responsibility alone. Moreover, Itami Castle was now a fortress in a state of emergency, its security being strictly reinforced around the clock. In an instant, they were discovered by other units, and Miwara Hayato found himself targeted by two or three sniper shots; though uninjured, he had no choice but to flee back like a swift bird. Without anyone in particular saying so, even within the castle,

“Lately, enemy infiltrators have been frequently probing the vulnerabilities in the northern bailey.” “Do not let your guard down.” A voice rang out, and the security there became even stricter. They simply could not get close. There was no strategy to make contact with Kanbei in prison. Approaching Kanbei, who was there, was something even Itami Wataru could not do due to the watchful eyes of the castle soldiers.

At last, a last-resort plan emerged. The plan was to bring Okiku into the castle. This matter progressed relatively quickly after the idea was first conceived. “The maidservants serving in the inner chambers—fearing the day when battle would come—have been feigning illness or using their parents’ sickness as excuses to leave the castle, only to never return to their family homes. This has caused great trouble.” “Particularly Lady Muro-no-Tsubone’s attendants—they’re in dire straits from the shortage of hands.” It was the result of Wataru having heard this from the senior retainers and recommending Okiku as a timely solution.

Okiku entered the castle as someone connected to the Itami family. Not a single person on the castle side—starting with Araki Murashige—doubted her. Moreover, she fully embodied that role. On the day she first entered the castle, she presented herself in a room of the western bailey to the person she would serve from that day onward. She was called Lady Muro-no-Tsubone and also referred to as the Lady of the Chamber—a beauty surpassing all others in the world, so much so that Okiku thought her the most beautiful woman she had ever seen.

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

Whispers of Fireflies

I

Okiku found favor with Lady Muro-no-Tsubone. As days passed, [Lady Muro-no-Tsubone] began addressing her kindly, kept her close at hand, and casually assigned her various personal tasks.

“Where were you born?” “Um… Near here.” “So, the capital then?”

“No.” “Um… Osaka.” “Osaka.”

“Yes… That’s right.” She had always mentally prepared herself for the questions Lady Muro-no-Tsubone might ask. Yet when answering time came, she invariably grew flustered. Lady Muro-no-Tsubone seemed to regard this artlessness—this lack of worldly experience in service—as part of her charm, sometimes deliberately teasing her. “You claim kinship with the Itami family—is this true?” “Yes…” “Then I suppose you’ll soon become Lord Itami Wataru’s bride within this household.”

“Oh…” “Oh… Such a thing—” She blushed for no reason—this person asked such unexpected questions that one could not afford to let their guard down. Okiku could not relax in the slightest. However, as days passed and she grew more familiar, she learned to ask before being asked. When something seemed likely to turn into idle talk, before being questioned herself, she would inquire about various things to Lady Muro-no-Tsubone first. Then Lady Muro-no-Tsubone answered everything frankly. She told her things she would not even share with the other maidservants.

From this, it became clear that while Lady Muro-no-Tsubone was now surrounded by splendor and samurai in the western bailey as Araki Murashige’s concubine, she was neither the daughter of a prestigious family nor of a renowned figure. It seemed her origins lay with a port courtesan he had brought back from the vicinity of Murotsu on his return from participating in the Chūgoku campaign. Perhaps because of this, she would sometimes slip into a Chūgoku accent and, in jest, often employ unexpected phrases from the lower classes.

“It’s so stuffy here in the castle.” “Don’t you think so too, eh?”

This was a phrase Lady Muro-no-Tsubone would occasionally let slip with a sigh—one Okiku had grown accustomed to hearing—but at times she would furrow her beautiful brows and say: "If only the enemy would come quickly and this castle would fall... If that happens... I might be able to return... To that Murotsu." She uttered such bold words with utter nonchalance—not even bothering to lower her voice—carrying herself as though it mattered not at all if Murashige himself heard them.

II Speaking of Murotsu, it was close to Shikama where Okiku's home stood. They were both in Harima Province. She feared Lady Muro-no-Tsubone - herself raised in Chūgoku - must have discerned the Chūgoku accent she could never fully shed.

Sure enough, afterward, when their conversation touched upon something, Lady Muro-no-Tsubone said this. “Okiku, you have spent time in Harima as well, have you not?” “……Er… Well…” “Which area?”

“In Shikama… I had… a relative there.” “I see.”

From the corners of cool eyes, she smiled with her eyes, nodding to herself with a self-approving look, “...I thought as much.”

Lady Muro-no-Tsubone muttered, as if talking to herself. Though Okiku’s complexion had not betrayed her in that moment, even so, Lady Muro-no-Tsubone showed no suspicion of it afterward.

Summer had reached its height. Because Lady Muro-no-Tsubone was somewhat lacking in decorum, she did not seem to particularly care for summers in the palace residence, where one's hair and attire had to remain immaculate at all times. Impatiently awaiting twilight, she would have the blinds on the veranda rolled up and sit informally, waiting for the evening breeze—this appeared to be her only pleasure.

“If fireflies flew over this freshly watered ground, how cool it would be,” Lady Muro-no-Tsubone mused. “Okiku, go catch some fireflies.” “Fireflies...?” “In Chūgoku, there were swarms of them,” she continued, her voice tinged with nostalgia. “You know this too, don’t you? Fireflies gather by water. Go where there’s water—they’ll surely be there.” Her fingers tapped the lacquered edge of the firefly cage. “Fill this cage with them.” “Water...” Okiku’s voice wavered. “A place with water... Where might that be?” “Follow the garden northward,” Lady Muro-no-Tsubone instructed, her sleeve fluttering toward the shadows beyond the veranda. “Past the turret’s rear—head for Tengen Pond.”

“Huh? —Tengen Pond?” “Afraid?”

Lady Muro-no-Tsubone laughed in amusement.

“No, it’s not that I’m afraid.”

She held the firefly cage and followed the starlit path in the instructed direction. Within the castle grounds—particularly near the rear gate area—the terrain of hills, groves, and shallow valleys made nighttime walks scarcely different from traversing mountain wilderness.

III They’re here, they’re here, really here! Countless fireflies were swarming. The darker the place became, the more beautifully they traced phosphorescent light through their flitting; the more treacherous the water’s edge grew, the thicker they clustered like glowing orbs.

But this area was a humid place so dark that one wouldn't notice if their nose were pinched. The pond's edge was faintly visible, but wisteria vines from the trellis had spread unchecked, and here and there, towering trees formed double layers that blotted out the sky. However, she felt neither fear nor eeriness—nor anything at all. She was simply recalling the words her foster brother Shinpachi had spoken to her before entering this castle. (This must be the pond. This must be the area—)

Even without being pursued, fireflies swarmed onto her sleeves and chest. She remained still, crouching down as she gathered them into the cage, (…Oh. That window.) Finally, her eyes—now accustomed to the dark—discerned what seemed to be the location. Immediately on the far side of the pond, along the water, stood a thick-pillared building forming a wall over ten *ken* in length—this was unmistakably the armory. A single window was visible. But that window stood utterly beyond reach.

No—rather, due to its sheer proximity to the pond, even reaching beneath that window seemed utterly impossible. (He must be there…)

Okiku believed this, and her eyes filled with tears. Though the difference in status between him and her family—bound by master-servant relations—was utterly insurmountable, the young lord of Himeyama would unfailingly stop by her home whenever he rode to Shikama, affectionately calling her father “Grandpa” and treating her, then a young girl, as a friend. (Coming here puts me at ease.) He had always said so.

As evening fell—*Hmm, should I return to the Himeyama estate?*—when he brought his horse to the back door of her house, young Okiku’s tears would always well up unbidden. Without even being aware of what in her girlish heart had given rise to such feelings— Before she knew it, as time passed and years shifted, he was no longer in Himeyama either; she heard from her father only that he was mostly amidst the storms of war, and when she secretly listened to people’s whispers, they said he already had a young, beautiful wife and a child at his estate.

Since then, she had striven not to summon back the fluttering of her girlish heart—like the flickering of fireflies from her childhood. And without realizing it, she lived on without heeding her aging father or her own passing marriageable years, but when she unexpectedly learned of that person's calamity last year, she could no longer remain still. Unable to voice her wishes directly to her father Yojirōemon, she had instead secretly implored—before their departure—those comrades gathered at her father’s house: Kinugasa Kyūzaemon, Morita Tahei, and others. Though she held no confidence these allies could exert any influence, she had earnestly pleaded for her father’s permission to join them in Itami Castle town—and it was this fervent wish that had ultimately been granted.

That was it. Though she had no such power, whether by some twist of fate or divine mercy, she had now come right beside the prison where he was believed to be held. Though she looked at the dark ancient pond separating her path and saw the fortified building beyond, not a shred of defeatism arose within her regarding this opportunity and divine aid. She did not consider the impossible, focusing only on what might be done—forgetting how her obi and kosode, crouched motionless in the grass, were becoming soaked with night dew until they blended with the leaves.

Eventually, she quietly rose.

IV At the boundary between the building’s foundation and the pond water lay a narrow strip of naturally accumulated mud, no more than one or two feet wide. There too, reeds and weeds grew thickly, forming a narrow strip of shore along the base of the wall. Pressing herself flat against the building, she sidled along the shore sideways—ever sideways—inching forward bit by bit.

When she drew near the middle of the pond, here and there, there were slightly wider patches of accumulated earth. When she stood in such a spot, she let out a sigh of relief and looked around.

The window was near. But from the outside here, it was so high one had to crane their neck. And up to that point, the wisteria vines from the trellis had crawled in. (If only these were wisteria vines—I could sneak in...) And she earnestly pondered a young girl’s dream-like notion. And still, approaching as close as possible beneath the window, cupping both hands around her mouth, she called out stealthily yet with desperate earnestness—

“Lord Kanbei.” “Lord Kanbei.” she called out.

Over the wisteria trellis, a rustling wind passed through. If only that wind would carry this voice—she thought ceaselessly, pausing at intervals as she called out.

“Lord Kanbei… Hello? Hello?”

V Kuroda Kanbei turned and raised his head.

And with blazing eyes, he glared around the prison. The ceiling was high. The frontage and depth were vast. And that it was a perfectly square darkness with a 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 grown even worse, and swelling had developed at the roots of his hair—yet it was certain that only that much time had passed within this prison. There was nothing to await but the passage of time.

_A dream?... ...My imagination?_ He laid his head back down heavily on the thin bedding and pillow.

And then, for a moment. He had been half-hearing the faint sound of wind through wisteria leaves from the solitary window without consciously listening, when suddenly he jolted upright.

“This cannot be mere imagination… But.” *What a strange voice I’m hearing.* He unsteadily attempted to rise—but did not. The muscles, eroded by boils covering his entire body, had already stolen even the strength to rise and walk from his once-healthy frame. “—It is not a dream.” He crawled out across the large floor there like an eczema-ridden infant. However, he himself started and turned to peer warily toward the side—toward the extremely sturdy lattice structure. Because there were always samurai guards stationed there in shifts at that boundary.

In the distance, he saw the red light of an iron-legged lantern. There seemed to be no one there. Kanbei confirmed this absence and crawled once more beneath the window. When he pressed both ear and body against the wooden wall and stilled his mind, an unmistakable human voice reached him. Moreover—could they truly be calling his own name? The long-dormant blood throughout his body suddenly felt as though seething to a boil. They were calling him—there couldn’t possibly be another Kanbei in this vicinity.

“Wh—what’s… “Who’s there?” He wanted to shout back with all his voice. However, it went without saying that acting on that impulse was perilous in the extreme. He paced restlessly. His body wouldn’t respond. 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 crawled in through the window and grown unchecked. He pulled it from below. The wisteria branch visible at the high window swayed in response. In response to that sway—to demonstrate it was not mere wind but will—he pulled it long and in short tugs.

Then, even in the voice of the caller from outside, an unusual intensity had taken hold. And now it could be heard far more clearly than before. “—Lord Kanbei? Is that you? Might the one residing within here be Lord Kanbei of Himeji? ...Please... show me even a glimpse of your face... or the edge of your form. Lord Kanbei.” The voice—unceasing, akin to a cry—continued intermittently amid the night wind. Kanbei leaned back as if recoiling in suspicion.

"Huh?... It’s 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 whether it might indeed be one.

Wisteria Branch

1

The wisteria branch at the window he gazed up at swayed. No—it was responding. Okiku, believing her approach had been correctly received by the prisoner within, felt the blood throughout her body grow hotter still. “Lord Kanbei, Lord Kanbei.” “Himeji’s retainers will surely devise a rescue soon.” “Until then, no matter what befalls you, do not surrender to despair or forsake yourself.”

She kept muttering words to that effect in broken gasps while looking up at the swaying wisteria vine. Even while doubting whether her voice was truly reaching Kanbei’s ears within the prison, she still could not stop herself from crying out.

Then, right behind her—or rather, almost at her feet—the pond water made a small splashing sound, as if a frog had jumped in.

“……?” She kept her entire body pressed there with both hands and turned only her face over her shoulder. The surface of the pond showed no sign of disturbance. It had left nothing but a small ripple amidst the ripples borne by the night breeze.

“Lord Kanbei… If I could meet you, there are so many more things—so many more things—I would want to tell you.” “There are so many things I wish to tell you, but…” With a loud splash—this time much louder than before—the water resounded. The direction was slightly off, but water splashed onto the side of her face. Okiku casually turned her gaze toward the far shore of the pond. The instant she did, her pure white face—devoid of any blood color—and her shoulders trembled violently, and her eyes suddenly darted around her feet as if trying to flee from there.

2 No matter what she did, there was nowhere to flee abruptly. On the far shore of the pond, guards had arrived unnoticed. They appeared to have been standing in the tree shadows, intently observing her movements since earlier. “Why did she cross over there?” “She must be a woman harboring some purpose regarding Kanbei. —Hey, you!” “That reed-cutting boat will suffice.” “Pole it once and bring that woman aboard!”

It was the command of a warrior who appeared to be a commander. Before long, two soldiers poled a small rotted wooden boat across to this side. She remained frozen in place, watching it all unfold. And she was easily pushed down onto the boat and hauled up before the commander-like warrior. "Do you serve in the Nishinomaru or the Kitanomaru?"

He questioned her with a severe gaze. She steeled herself for what was to come. "I serve at Lady Muro's side." Then the commander's hand grabbed her wrist as though in hatred. "Move."

he commanded.

The other soldiers grabbed one of her arms. She was sandwiched between suits of armor and dragged away, her feet barely touching the ground. The commander was a captain named Gondō Ujūrō. Those guarding the prison cell in the armory, both inside and outside, were all under this man’s command. Due to his duties, even though it was the action of a single woman, he naturally regarded it with grave importance.

He brought Okiku to the main keep. However, according to the samurai’s words, Lord Araki Murashige was apparently holding a banquet in the Nishinomaru again tonight. Ujūrō clicked his tongue and immediately turned his steps in that direction. “Honestly, this Lady Muro business isn’t good.” “To show favor to such a woman is beyond the pale.”

He circled around to the front garden of the Nishinomaru and requested an audience with Murashige through a retainer. The retainer asked about the nature of his business, but Ujūrō—

“My Lord, I cannot disclose this unless it is directly to you,” he refused. Reluctantly, the retainer relayed the request as instructed. Murashige was sharing the space with Muro-no-Tsubone while enjoying the evening coolness. There was no trace of the banquet that Honmaru retainers had been slanderously imagining. Only a single small drum lay visible in the room, cast aside as if in weariness. Though Muro-no-Tsubone and Murashige occupied the same chamber, they faced opposite directions—their separate gazes fixed on the garden through entirely different windows of the heart.

“What? Ujūrō wants to meet me?” “He needn’t have come all this way.” Murashige snapped bitterly. Yet when he heard the retainer whisper something under his breath, the hue of his eyes abruptly sharpened— “Bring her here.”

and pointed at the large stepping stone before him. Gondō Ujūrō immediately appeared. Pulling Okiku to the front of the garden, he too prostrated himself deeply. Murashige glared at Okiku’s shadow from the veranda. Those fearsome eyes were indeed a reminder of the martial valor that had made Lord Settsu-no-kami Murashige renowned throughout the land. He remained like that for some time before finally— “Hmm… This woman.”

When he grunted, he looked at the profile of Muro-no-Tsubone beside him, then cast a gaze that seemed to compare her and Okiku equally. But Muro-no-Tsubone remained utterly composed. She cast a sidelong glance toward Okiku and surely grasped Murashige’s emotions immediately, yet remained perfectly composed, gazing through the eaves at the twinkling stars beyond.

III

Gondō Ujūrō stated the facts in a tone thick with agitation. Naturally, this matter held profound implications for Lady Muro who stood before them, and as a vassal jointly defending the castle in this time of war, he felt compelled to express from the heart the unavoidable need for resolute remonstration. It embodied the spirit of risking one's standing to admonish one's lord. Even Lord Settsu-no-kami Murashige was no fool of a ruler who would rage at his loyal vassal's words. He fully discerned the intent within Ujūrō's gaze and listened intently to every detail.

Then he turned quietly to face Muro-no-Tsubone. “O-Muro. Did you hear?” “Yes. I heard.” “This Okiku—has she not been serving at your side only recently?” “My Lord, are you not equally aware of this?” “...I asked merely to confirm.” “You too share half the blame.”

“Why would that be?” “Why have you kept such a suspicious woman near you all this time without realizing it?” “Is there anything suspicious about her?” “You heard Ujūrō’s testimony moments ago.” “Could it be that Ujūrō has gravely misapprehended the situation?” “What nonsense!” Lord Settsu-no-kami flushed slightly—his usual gentleness toward women now strained— “What ‘misapprehension’? Ujūrō saw it with his own eyes.”

“No, no.” She too had shown an unyielding demeanor. And with a manner of speaking both sharp and persistent—unique to women—she cut into the conversation. “Okiku is my servant.” “I know Okiku’s character better than anyone else.” “Moreover, is she not a relative of your esteemed family, the Itami clan?” “Even if she is merely a maidservant, for someone like Ujūrō to brazenly speak of her as a suspicious woman or a hateful wretch—those are utterly contemptuous words.” “Even if only in name, toward someone of your esteemed lineage—”

And having delivered this decisive blow with fiery swiftness— “Tonight, Okiku went to Tengen Pond because I ordered her to. “It was not Okiku’s will. “For Okiku, it was truly a misfortune—you see, it was because I ordered her to catch many fireflies and release them in this garden—” “Nay.” “With all due respect to your words—”

With an expression that screamed *How dare you*, Ujūrō suddenly cut in—but Lady Muro-no-Tsubone coolly: “What is this? You would silence me?” “Hold your tongue.” After shutting him down with a single rebuke, she turned to Murashige and fiercely denied the accusations. “You claim I bear half the blame—but does that not mean you too must shoulder half the fault?” “If someone like me, who brought this suspicious creature into the castle, deserves censure—then why do you keep me here at all?” “Have I not begged time and again to return to Muro-no-Tsu?” “Yet you refuse to grant even that.”

“Ujūrō.” “Ujūrō.” Murashige seemed on the verge of losing the gravitas befitting a general— “You—withdraw for now.” “We’ll discuss this properly later.” “No—after thoroughly investigating Okiku’s circumstances, we’ll settle the matter, so do not worry.” “You may withdraw.”

Ujūrō looked up dejectedly at his lord’s face. An even stronger urge to speak frankly seemed lodged in his chest. But until the very moment he rose to leave, Lady Muro-no-Tsubone never ceased denying his accusations. “If you mean to leave here, you should return to Tengen Pond’s edge and investigate thoroughly,” she said. “I gave Okiku a beautiful maki-e firefly cage from my own possession. It must have fallen somewhere... How pitiful—for my sake, I’ve made her bear this undeserved stain of false accusation.”

Ujūrō suppressed his sullen demeanor, performed a bow befitting a warrior, and promptly left.

After that, the conversation naturally became a matter solely between Lady Muro-no-Tsubone and Murashige.

When they were alone, Lady Muro-no-Tsubone now shifted her demeanor slightly,

“I will take responsibility and leave the castle with Okiku.” “Please order the exile of Okiku and myself.” “Otherwise, you may execute us both side by side—I would not mind.”

...she stated bluntly.

Lord Settsu-no-kami Murashige too found himself at a loss with this woman. There had even been public criticism that this fierce general's inability to manage his concubines constituted his fatal flaw - so apparent was his leniency that it could not be concealed.

“Oh, enough now.” “Do not make such a commotion.” “Ujūrō did not come forward with any deliberate malice.” “If it was an error, let it remain an error.” “This is no hour to neglect matters within and without—particularly with Itami Castle at stake.” “Is it not precisely because my retainers bear this in mind that they show concern even for trifles?” “I shall leave Okiku in your keeping.” “Only see that she stays within the inner quarters of the western bailey hereafter.” Having at last succeeded in placating her, Murashige’s countenance eased. Indeed, he now took it upon himself to steer their talk toward lighter matters, attending with care to each subtle shift in Lady Muro-no-Tsubone’s expression.

This matter had leaked out through the mouths of the samurai retainers before anyone realized it. Gondō Ujūrō’s indignant desertion from the castle followed shortly thereafter. Murashige raged bitterly, cursing this disloyalty, but most of his household kept silent.

Around this time, signs began to appear within Itami Castle that lethargy had gradually taken hold and morale had started to crumble—or so it could be perceived. The Azuchi spies had keenly detected both the atmosphere within the castle and the situation in the castle town that immediately reflected it, frequently sending secret reports to Nobunaga.

Dissonance

I

The women in the inner bailey remained wholly unaware of external battle developments, yet Itami Castle's fate had already begun its downward turn several months prior. Particularly since summer's arrival, the fortress's collapse had reached such a critical state that its fall seemed imminent day by day. This reality became starkly apparent to any who ascended the castle's high turret to survey the town below. In early spring, enemy encampments had lain beyond naked-eye visibility even to shielded gazes, but by late spring their banners became discernible across multiple locations. As the encircling forces progressively tightened their grip, Oda units that had initially operated as scattered entities across various fronts gradually coalesced into a unified front, ultimately establishing direct contact with Itami Town itself.

From early August, when Araki’s forces—who had been fighting the enemy vanguard at their defensive positions outside the castle—abandoned those trenches and began a full retreat into the castle, Oda’s armed forces also entered Itami Town, and the town’s functions came to a complete halt for a time. “You people are not the enemy. You people haven’t joined Murashige in rebellion. Work! Work! Resume your normal occupations as usual!” The Oda forces issued proclamations, but out of terror, the townspeople could not bring themselves to work.

Before long, the conscription of labor began. The work was digging long, winding trenches around Itami Castle. It was also a construction project to erect walls and fences in double and triple layers along the trenches. A vast number of personnel toiled under the blazing sun like ants. Once these were completed, the soldiers within Itami Castle would inevitably become caged birds. At first, they had actively tried to interfere by firing arrows and unleashing volleys of matchlocks, but their ammunition had been depleted in the field battles outside the castle walls, and the Oda forces had already discerned that little remained. However, the Oda forces’ strategy appeared to be one of calmly waiting for his destruction while taking every precaution to avoid losses among their own ranks.

The commander-in-chief of the besieging forces was Nobunaga’s legitimate son Nobutada, with various generals such as Hori Hidemasa and Takigawa Kazumasu, Sakon Shōgen supporting him.

II

“They’ll be here soon.” “They will surely come soon.” “There is absolutely no reason they won’t come—they will surely come.”

When the castle commanders gathered to hold a military council regarding this crisis, the words spoken by their commander, Araki Murashige, always came down to this. He would say it not out of conviction but with intense fervor. “Already this spring, the Mori family’s naval forces have formally pledged to us in a sworn oath that they would come in full force with ships lined bow to stern to provide aid.” “Their delay stems from military preparations—but there’s no reason they’d tear up the treaty and abandon us who rose with such effort.” “I’ll trust Mori to the last and await their great army’s landing on Nishinomiya’s shores at the earliest! Until then, we hold this castle! Persevere, all of you!”

These words of Murashige’s were for his subordinates—those who had been encouraged since the battle’s outset. Truly—at the end of last year, this spring, and even until summer arrived—he had persisted. However, though more than half a year had already passed, the second front—where the great armies under Mōri Terumoto, Kikkawa, and Kobayakawa were to come with their warships—had not materialized anywhere. Many of the castle commanders had finally begun to doubt the sincerity of the Mori clan. And toward their lord Murashige, though they did not voice it to his face,

"How absurd! You rely on what cannot be relied upon... Did you not once depend on Takayama Ukon and Nakagawa Kiyohide as if they were your own arms?" "Yet even as he watched Takayama and Nakagawa defect and swiftly submit to Oda's forces, this lord still refused to open his eyes." Thinking this, they exchanged somber looks; but by August, even Murashige had stopped voicing his hollow reliance on Mōri—those endless assurances of 'they'll come any day now.'

On the contrary, this time he began to vehemently denounce Mōri Terumoto’s treachery and faithlessness. At the military council on September 1st as well, “We must take some measure to urgently hasten the Mori family’s reinforcements—letters have already been sent repeatedly and secret envoys dispatched time and again. At this point, I myself must go and sternly confront Kikkawa, Kobayakawa, and the others.” he said such things. Even when they heard his words, the generals showed no enthusiasm. First, they could consider whether there was even leisure for such measures, and even if Murashige himself wished to meet with representatives from the Mori side, by now it was fully known that securing such a location had become exceedingly difficult.

However, brave as he was, Murashige—simple in strategic thinking—apparently still clung to some belief in its feasibility. Rather than viewing it as such, perhaps it would be more accurate to say that by this point, his mind had reached its absolute limit.

He had earnestly begun to consider secretly leaving this castle from that moment onward—forgetting his position as both lord who should remain with the castle and mastermind of the rebellion—and resolved alone to slip away from here and make his way to Hanakuma Castle in Settsu Province (Hyōgo), one remaining allied stronghold. And so, without informing the main castle commanders—aside from his family elders and senior retainers—he began preparations at dusk on the following day, September 2nd.

III “Muro-no-Tsubone, make ready at once.” Murashige had suddenly come to the west bailey and said this to her.

Muro-no-Tsubone looked up at his figure from head to toe with a look of disbelief. Murashige was dressed like a common soldier prepared for a hunting expedition. “Where… are you going?” “In that getup…” Muro-no-Tsubone cast a cold gaze. This woman, who appeared ignorant yet possessed a sharp wisdom beyond that of an ordinary woman, seemed to have already intuited the situation in an instant. “Anywhere will do.” “You too—travel light, hitch up your skirts, and come with me.”

“I refuse.” “Why?” “I refuse to go somewhere with no clear destination.” “Haven’t you always said—repeatedly—that you wanted to leave the castle?”

“If it’s beyond the castle walls, then yes.” “Beyond the walls. I’m abandoning this castle.” “...But does this not strike you as peculiar?” “Why?” “You are the lord of this castle, are you not? What becomes of your numerous retainers?” “This surpasses a woman’s understanding. Yet for your reassurance, I shall divulge one truth—this departure serves military strategy.” “And to what destination does Your Lordship intend to withdraw?”

“To Hanakuma Castle.” “Then you intend to confine me in that Hanakuma as well.” “In that case, it makes no difference—Muro will remain here.” “No—once we reach Hyōgo, I’ll let you return.” “After that, I’ll put you on a ship.” “Are you certain? “A lie is a samurai’s disgrace.” “There, there.” “I will send you back without fail.” “Hurry up and prepare.”

“Okiku.” “Okiku!”

She called toward the maidservants’ room. But Okiku did not answer. Another maidservant came and reported that Lady Kiku had been missing since this evening. “Could it be My Lord has hidden her?” “If you do not take that one with you, I shall not go!”

Muro-no-Tsubone glared at Murashige’s face with her keenly perceptive eyes. Murashige hurriedly shook his head to conceal his expression.

“Okiku has already gone ahead.” “She has joined the group of senior retainers.” “That’s a lie.” She refused to believe him. With Murashige’s clumsy words, it took more than an hour to make her believe it. Before long, the night had passed the first watch. In the garden’s darkness, a shadowy figure stood silently, urging Murashige to leave. That night’s attendants numbered only six or seven men. When these people drew near, they permitted Muro-no-Tsubone no complaints or grievances. For they all bore expressions of utmost desperation, their eyes filled with hostility. Though Muro-no-Tsubone had thrown fierce tantrums toward Murashige, when surrounded by these warrior retainers, her very steps trembled uncontrollably, and the profile of her face beneath the deep hood turned as white as an evening glory flower.

IV

“The lord is gone!”

“What? He’s gone? Where?” “In this castle.” “Don’t be ridiculous!” “No—it’s true. They say last night he secretly left through the rear gate and moved to Hanakuma Castle.”

“So it’s true… Is that so?” “I heard it just now for certain from Lord Ikeda Izumi, one of the senior retainers.”

“What is the meaning of this!”

The warriors spat on the ground and stormed into where the senior retainers were. Araki Hisaemon and Ikeda Izumi—senior retainers who had been persuaded by Murashige to reluctantly remain behind—calmed the furious warriors with their utmost eloquence. All of this was a desperate strategy devised for your allies' sake: should our lord reach Hanakuma Castle, escape by sea, and safely arrive in Mōri territory, the Kikkawa and Kobayakawa naval forces would turn back without fail and come in full force to our rescue. Perhaps they were already en route across the sea toward Settsu in continuous numbers. If they arrived, the Oda forces outside the castle would lift their siege and retreat within half a day. "Fight!" they urged. "Just one more push." "Endure but a few more days." To abandon this castle now would render the year-long siege and all your efforts utterly futile—as if pleading "We implore you" without words, the three senior retainers labored to placate them. They strained their voices and wiped away sweat as they persuaded.

“No matter what transpires, to voice the lord’s faults is not the path of a retainer. Nor does avoiding battle in this dire straits resemble anything but cowardice.” “There is nothing left but death.” At long last, the retainers settled on that conclusion. Even so, their inner turmoil could not be quelled. Since then, the castle’s morale came to resemble a tall tree in late autumn, its leaves falling away one by one. Deserters showed no sign of ceasing to flee one after another, and various rumors from outside the castle came in like a cold wind.

For example:

“A certain someone and another someone have already conspired with the Oda faction.” or else, “Even Ukita Naoie of Bizen, who had been aligned with the Mōri, has finally established ties with the Oda clan. Because of this, the Mōri find their borders threatened and are in no position to send reinforcements to the capital region.” These were the sorts of claims circulating. The castle’s defenders had initially dismissed these rumors as falsehoods spread by the enemy, cautioning one another against them. However, they gradually began to recognize glimmers of truth in these reports.

First, it became clear that Araki Murashige, who was said to have fled to Hanakuma Castle, had not even reached that far but instead entered Amagasaki Castle and had not moved from there since. Moreover, among the generals who remained in Itami, there were indeed several whose attitudes had completely changed thereafter. The one whose betrayal was most evident was a general named Nakanishi Shinpachirō. Centered around Nakanishi, Itami Hyōgo-no-kami—who had long been dissatisfied with Murashige—alongside his second son Itami Wataru and others, seemed to be scheming something in contact with Gondō Ujūrō, who had previously deserted the castle.

“Seize the initiative and strike first at the defectors within the castle!”

On one hand, this kind of atmosphere also arose. Naturally, the entirety of Itami gave rise to discord and began a rapid process of self-destruction.

V

Itami Castle, abandoned by the Mōri after relying on undependable allies, had its remaining officers and men—left behind by their lord Murashige—utterly fragmented in spirit, now transformed into a weakened state beyond recovery. The senior retainer Araki Hisaemon dispatched a military envoy to the Oda forces, “We shall present our wives, children, and kin as hostages.” “In exchange, we senior retainers humbly entreat you to permit our journey to Amagasaki.” “Our purpose is to meet with our lord, Lord Settsu-no-kami Murashige, and exhaustively counsel him to surrender this castle without bloodshed—Amagasaki and Hanakuma Castle too.” “Should Lord Settsu-no-kami still refuse compliance, we shall serve as your vanguard and assuredly seize both Amagasaki and Hanakuma to submit before the House of Oda.” “Therefore, should our lord Settsu-no-kami attain clarity of mind and offer unconditional surrender, I humbly beseech you in secret to grant him mercy.”

He submitted a proposal to that effect.

The Oda forces permitted this. Araki Hisaemon and two or three others thus fled to Amagasaki, but as days passed, there was no answer from the Oda forces regarding what had become of it. Indeed, not even a single report had been made to the entire garrison left behind in the castle.

“What need remains for strategies?” “Cease those extravagant earthworks encircling the castle.” “Kazumasu—execute the prepared plan at once.”

Oda Nobutada gave this command to Takigawa Kazumasu. Kazumasu was a patient strategist, while Nobutada was an impetuous young commander burning to crush the enemy. It was only natural that Nobutada grew impatient with Kazumasu’s stone-bridge-tapping caution. “Very well.” “The moment has fully ripened.” Kazumasu had long since turned Nakanishi Shinpachirō within the castle walls to their cause—the groundwork was already laid. He secretly coordinated communications and fixed the appointed hour,

“Raise the signal fire of rebellion,” he urged. Shinpachirō’s faction had been all too eager to carry out their plan. For their betrayal had at last been noticed by their allies within the castle, and the danger of those very allies flying into a rage and launching a surprise attack at any moment now pressed upon them. The secret instruction from Takigawa Kazumasu had been set for the night of October 18th, but the situation had grown too perilous to endure until then. Finally, two days prior—on the night of October 16th—they raised flames from a corner of the castle without even sparing time to inform the Oda forces.

“There are still two days left.” The Oda forces outside the castle, who had been stationed and settled in, were thrown into disarray, but even greater chaos was, of course, unfolding within Itami Castle.

“So this is it—the defectors have cast off their masks.” “Damn. They’ve made the first move?” And so, with the castle as a crucible, the tragedy of comrades-turned-enemies slaying and felling one another was laid bare beneath the flames. Even though this fate had been predicted to come eventually, it was too wretched a clash of blades. Under cover of night and aided by the strong wind, the flames swiftly engulfed the entire castle. —And now, even around Kuroda Kanbei, who had been imprisoned since the previous year, those flames and dreadful noises drew closer with each passing moment.

A Man's Wailing

I

At Kōyaji Temple in Koyagō, for several days now, approximately ten people—monks, warriors, townspeople, doctors, puppeteers, and others in diverse attire—had secretly gathered and lodged together in a single room.

Needless to say, they were the Himeji retainers who had been operating around Itami since spring with the purpose of rescuing their lord. Initially, there had been thirteen members, but Morita Yosabē—advanced in years—had fallen ill and been compelled to return home partway through, while Miyata Jihee and Ogawa Yosazaemon had very recently split from the group. *Lord Kanbei’s rescue will surely be achieved in the near future.* To deliver this good news, they had hurried toward the Chūgoku region—one heading to Hideyoshi’s encampment and another entering Himeji Castle—to coordinate their plans.

The group had gathered at Kōyaji Temple and waited because they had learned in advance the secret that on the eighteenth of this month, the defectors within Itami Castle would finally raise flames from within to usher in the Oda forces. All intelligence—both major and minor—had been conveyed through Shiroganeya Shinpachi and Katō Hachiyata. “On what day and at what hour? Who guards the west gate? Who guards the north gate?”—they could learn nearly everything as clearly as water through bamboo. Of course, they also knew their imprisoned lord remained alive and well.

But there was one thing that remained utterly unknown—the whereabouts of Shinpachi’s foster sister Okiku. There was no trace of her having moved to Amagasaki Castle with Murashige or Muro-no-Tsubone, nor was she seen within the castle walls. “Perhaps she was discovered and met a tragic fate,” the comrades whispered among themselves in secret. Out of unbearable pity for Shinpachi, they refrained from mentioning this in his presence—but Shinpachi himself appeared to have already resigned himself to the possibility.

And then, on the evening of October 16th as well, that Shinpachi came to join them. “On the late night of the 18th, Nakanishi Shinpachirō and his men within the castle plan to open the gates and invite the Oda forces in all at once—it seems all necessary secret plans between both sides have been forged. The day to achieve your wish is but two days away. Until then, though it pains you, please endure quietly in this temple so the enemy does not detect us.” He lifted the spirits of the group and, after reiterating his warning, returned to town. That was around the Hour of the Dog in the early evening.

II

It was around the time when about a quarter of an hour had passed since then.

Shinpachi, who should have already returned home and gone to bed by now, was once again banging on the temple gate with a frantic voice, shouting something at the top of his lungs.

Morita Tahei and Gondō Ujūrō, who were about to go to sleep, “Is that Shinpachi?”

While suspecting something amiss, they exited the temple kitchen and went to check the main gate, only to find that Kuriyama Zensuke had already rushed there ahead of them. He had opened the gate and appeared to be listening intently to something Shinpachi was saying. When he noticed the two who had arrived behind him, Zensuke spoke in a calm yet fierce tone: “Go and tell everyone to prepare themselves and gather here immediately.”

he conveyed. It appeared that weapons had been brought into the temple beforehand, for the people who came rushing in were all clad in light armor and carried spears, polearms, and other bladed weapons of their choosing. Zensuke, Tahei, and Uemon also whirled around, hid inside the temple once, and immediately reappeared fully armed.

—But the coalition members still hadn't grasped what exactly had erupted. "Is everyone assembled?"

Kuriyama Zensuke surveyed the assembled group, then announced rapidly and clearly: “The circumstances are unclear, but the defectors within the castle—who were scheduled to rise at midnight two days from now—have suddenly erupted into flames just this moment. The Oda forces had not anticipated this either; according to Shinpachi, who came flying here moments ago, they remain so startled by the suddenness that not a single soldier had yet engaged the castle. —But of course, we do not rely on the Oda’s strength. Our sole aim is to rescue our lord’s life from that prison. As time passes, there is no guarantee that Araki Murashige’s retainers will not take advantage of the chaos to harm Lord Kanbei’s life in his prison cell.—Then let us hurry immediately. Our actions must follow our daily pact: even if our comrades are surrounded by many enemies before our eyes, we must not look to one another until we confirm our lord’s safety. Do not falter.”

The ten shadows all trembled with warrior's fervor. And like night crows, their shadowy forms leapt as they raced down Koyagō’s long rice field path. When they rounded the forest shade along the way, the hill came straight into view—the castle came into view. And staining the autumn night sky of October, a single red flame pierced through the Milky Way. The droning of conch shells and clamor of gongs could be heard from all directions outside the castle. It was the rallying cry for the commencement of the general assault. But there was still no sign of Oda soldiers beneath the castle walls.

Unlike the many soldiers and horses surging about, the ten desperate Kuroda samurai moved swiftly. They smashed through the western palisade of the hill and charged toward the rear gate. No enemies barred their path anywhere. Only embers and smoke came billowing down across everything. First they dropped into the dry moat's depths, then began scaling the castle wall from there. This naturally demanded extraordinary acrobatic skill - had defenders atop those walls resisted them, they could never have gained purchase so easily - yet not only was there no such opposition,

"Climb up from here!"

As though urging them on, thick ropes hung down from two places. Of course, there was no doubt it was the doing of sympathizers within the castle—whether Itami Wataru or Kato Hachiyata. The ten split into two groups and scrambled up in a flurry. Shinpachi also climbed up afterward. And once they leaped over into the interior of the castle walls, the ten could no longer remain together as one. Scorching winds and embers raged sideways, and everywhere bloody battles indistinguishable between friend and foe unfolded. What showed the most ferocity was the great flames that had now climbed to around the third story of the turret. Flames could be seen not only around Nishinomaru but also in the Kitakuruwa area, and even nearby trees crackled with fire as they turned into crimson poles.

“Where is the arsenal prison?” “Where is Lord Kanbei?” And so, the people were already plunging headlong beneath the flames, each searching for their own destination as they went.

III Perhaps because it was lower than anywhere else, this area—resembling a basement—did not have much black smoke billowing in. Instead, flames raged downward from the turret's midsection with ferocious intensity. Kanbei sat inside the prison. The fire had reached just beyond the crude lattice bars, and blackened embers—scorching through the floorboards—had accumulated near his knees. Yet there was nothing to be done. He sat with his back pressed against the northernmost corner wall, motionless.

Contrary to the distant flames, the wall here was cold like a stone rampart. Drop by drop, clear water seeped out. And it was a wall that had never known sunlight throughout the year. The space had likely been repurposed as Kanbei's prison after being deemed too humid for an armory and left vacant for years. Because of this, Kanbei's entire body was afflicted with severe eczema—he had grown so weak he could not even rise to his feet.

"The day has finally come," he thought. If this body were to burn to death here now—that too must be an unalterable fate. That Araki Murashige could witness his own downfall at this moment was rather beyond expectation. The stifling gloom in his chest felt as though it were being seared away. "...How that fool must be panicking—"

He could not suppress a wry smile. Since he had long since resigned himself to his own death, not even a physiological struggle at the boundary between life and death arose anew. The embers burned his knees, so he occasionally brushed them off when they grew too hot. And with no time left to brush them away with his hand, he simply waited for all four walls and ceiling of this prison to turn into flames. As far as he was concerned, he had believed that Araki Murashige still remained in this castle as its commander, and even if Oda forces were to attack, he had thought there was no reason they would come to rescue him. Yet even now, if there was somewhere within him a faint glimmer of hope that he clung to in life, it was the voice of that woman who, just a hundred days prior, had shaken the wisteria vines outside this high window and called out to him incessantly.

“……That voice had ceased entirely since that time…” Kanbei found himself recalling it again. When he looked up at the window, the wisteria leaves were already beginning to fall, seared by the crimson autumn wind.

IV

—This night. When fires suddenly broke out in two or three places and a ferocious battle erupted between allies within the castle walls at the same moment, Araki Murashige’s family members and women—the sole inhabitants of the residential quarter—all barefoot and clad only in what they wore, surged like an avalanche toward the castle gate as one mass. Neither the besieged group nor the conspirators paid any heed to the girls; rather, wishing for their evacuation, they had encountered no danger within the castle. But the moment they tried to spill out toward the castle gate—

“Back! Get back!” Then a unit of heavily armored warriors forced back the wailing women, and a commander-like figure among them— “There may be cowards attempting to escape by blending in with these girls while disguised as women.” “Inspect each one thoroughly before letting them exit the castle grounds.” —barked orders from behind to the soldiers at the front. The besiegers were closing in. Though uncertain which Oda commander’s forces these were, as far as the eye could see stretched waves of black armor, spears, and battle standards.

“Alright, move out.—Next one’s clear.” The women had their necks and black hair inspected before being pushed through the castle gate one by one. Meanwhile, the main gate swung open, and warriors competing for glory—their eyes nearly popping from their sockets—came charging in like a raging tide. The women were knocked aside and trampled underfoot. Like blossoms swept into clusters by a tempest, they huddled at the edge of the Sode Gate. Trembling as though life itself held no meaning, they submitted to body inspections one after another before being released outside the castle walls.

Okiku was among that group. She had been confined to one of the rooms in the administrative quarters where these people resided slightly before Murashige fled the castle with Muro-no-Tsubone. Murashige’s family had protected the life he left behind and, keeping her under constant surveillance until the very end, had fled together with her thus far; but now, they could no longer afford such attentiveness. They were vying to be the first to get out of the castle. Had she simply followed that current, she would have been let out through the castle gate without difficulty. But when Okiku saw an opening among those around her, she suddenly broke away from the group and dashed back the way she had come. To beneath the fire that now engulfed the entire castle. Again, ferocious warrior clashed with ferocious warrior—taking heads and having their own heads taken—as they exchanged fierce war cries amidst a bloody battle that rained fire upon fire. In a frenzy, as if driven mad, they dashed about here and there.

“Oh… Under this slope—that pond in the low depression.

She finally found the path. It was a place she had passed through only once. It was the narrow path to Tenjin Pond that she had taken when ordered by Muro-no-Tsubone to catch fireflies.

V The preliminary knowledge known from maps and the sensation of actually setting foot on the land differed vastly in their nature. Even had this been manageable in peacetime, within the castle interior now transformed into a battlefield, every landmark building and tree lay shrouded in fire and smoke—and beyond all expectation, the grounds stretched vaster than imagined.

“Where? —The prison.”

“Where is Lord Kanbei?”

The Kuroda samurai who had scattered in their search all let out deep sighs at the near impossibility of accurately pinpointing its location. Exhausted from their desperate search, their impatience only grew more intense. The more they rushed, the easier it became to lose sight of their objective; yet even as they strove to remain composed, each glimpse of the flames engulfing the castle left them unable to rest easy. The flames spared no time. They knew that a single misstep would render their hard-won discovery meaningless—it would already be too late. Frantic running became their only recourse.

“Kyūzaemon, did you find it?” Kuriyama Zensuke and Morita Tahei asked in unison as they encountered Kinugasa Kyūzaemon near the turret’s base. Kyūzaemon replied hoarsely, “Not yet... And you?” He returned the question. “No luck here either.”

“Haven’t you seen a pond somewhere?” “The pond with the wisteria trellis.”

“Because we focused too much on that pond, we wasted time checking others in different baileys.” “The North Bailey seems to be around here.” “The turret’s there.” “Let’s search for the pond.” “You can’t tell by the buildings.”

They raced down through the pine forest. The larch trees and all the shrubs around them were emitting smoke. “Whoa!” “Looks like a woman, but…”

After stumbling, Kuriyama Zensuke turned to look at what he had tripped over. Beneath the smoke, a woman lay collapsed, unconscious.

“It’s Lady Okiku!” It was Tahei and Kyūzaemon—who had stopped short before tripping—who shouted this. “What? Lady Okiku?!” They lifted her up and bellowed into her ear with all their might. When Okiku came to, she dashed out like an arrow without even glancing at those around her.

She reached the pond’s edge. The pond water and sprawling wisteria trellis. When Kuriyama Zensuke, Morita Tahei, and the others who had followed her saw this— “Ah! Here it is!” they shouted involuntarily. In that instant, she was already waist-deep in the pond, moving like a dragon princess through the spray as she splashed beneath the prison building. “Lord Kanbei!” She seized the wisteria trunk. Desperately, she tried to climb higher. From below, Kinugasa Kyūzaemon ascended after her. At last gripping the prison window’s edge, he peered inside—but within lay only crimson darkness, nothing visible.

Meanwhile, Kuriyama Zensuke and Morita Tahei had entered through a different entrance and arrived before the thick latticework that partitioned the prison's main floor. They noticed four or five retainers who appeared to belong to Araki's household but made no move to stop them as they scattered and fled. The two scanned the prison exterior, found an old corner timber roughly two and a half ken in length piled in one corner, lifted it together like monks striking a temple bell, and slammed its end against the prison bars again and again.

A section snapped and broke away. All it took was one or two more strikes. As soon as they leaped in, the two shouted at the top of their voices. “My Lord— We’ve come for you.” “We are retainers from Himeji! My Lord! My Lord!...” They looked around. They frantically scanned every corner of the prison. Because Kanbei’s figure was nowhere to be found. But Kanbei was still alive. Amid the heat and smoke, even that cold northern wall was steaming, yet with his back still against it, he remained seated with his knees drawn up like gnarled branches.

“……?”

Now, suddenly, before his eyes, he saw the unexpected figures of his retainers and clearly heard voices that seemed wrung from their loyal hearts—but he remained dazed. He could not easily believe it.

“Ah!” “There!” “Oh!” “…Oh!”

An eerie sound resembling wailing embraces eventually echoed through the space. The two who had rushed over promptly lifted their lord upright. Just as they recoiled at his emaciated lightness, Kinugasa Kyūzaemon shattered through an upper window and came crashing down. Wooden door plank.

One “I’ll walk,” Kanbei said. “I’ll walk on my own.” “…Let go.” He stood up through some mysterious strength—not true physical capability, but something beyond. Yet after just a few steps, he staggered and nearly collapsed. His limbs were like a bamboo pole with only the joints protruding. “Careful!” Kuriyama Zensuke moved ahead and crouched with his back turned. “My Lord,” he urged, “allow this humble Zensuke to carry you swiftly beyond the castle walls. Please hold fast.”

Kanbei’s thin hand reached around Zensuke’s chest and grabbed hold. It was as light as carrying a bundle of dried husks. Zensuke glanced back at his comrades Tahei and Kyūzaemon.

“Then let’s go! I ask you to guard our lord’s front and rear so we don’t lose sight of him.”

Inside the prison, black smoke had already blurred all distinction between black and white. The area around the shattered prison bars was already choked by flames. Morita Tahei wielded the same square-cut timber he had used before to smash through the obstruction with renewed force.

Through the deafening roar and swirling embers, Kuriyama Zensuke charged forward with fierce momentum. Behind him—as he thought this—Kinugasa Kyūzaemon was...

“Lady Okiku!” “Lady Okiku isn’t here!” “Lady Okiku!” As he stood in the scorching wind, his voice called out in search. Involuntarily, Zensuke too halted his steps,

“Isn’t she outside? Isn’t she under that window?” As he shouted in shared concern to the wild-eyed Kyūzaemon, Kyūzaemon— “Our lord’s safety comes first. Zensuke, Tahei—don’t worry about here, go on ahead! I’ll search for Lady Okiku and come out after.”

he shouted from afar. “Right! Let’s go!” “Let’s move forward!” Zensuke and Tahei broke into a run. The turret was now about to collapse in flames. All other halls, towers, and pavilions were engulfed in waves of fire. Throughout the castle, enemy and ally spears clashed against spears, long swords against long swords. Amidst the chaotic grappling of combatants and formation-like clashes between warrior groups, the final moments there painted a scene of utmost tragedy—mountains of corpses and rivers of blood.

Two From the main keep to the main gate stretched a considerable distance. Unfamiliar with the castle's layout, Zensuke and Tahei appeared to have mistaken their direction. They had passed through the inner gate but failed to locate the final castle exit. Flames pursued them while troops blocked their path—circumstances preventing them from running freely. Before long,

“Wait!” “You’re Oda men, aren’t you?” A cluster of warriors aligned their gleaming blades to block the path. All were Araki forces—their masks and bodies dyed crimson in desperate frenzy. Some who had circled behind fixed their gaze on Kuriyama Zensuke’s back. “The one you carry must be Kuroda Kanbei from the prison.” “Did you come to steal him?” They seized Kanbei’s ankle and yanked him backward with brute force.

Zensuke brandished his longsword and cut down the enemy behind him with a one-handed strike. The warrior’s scream struck Zensuke’s face along with the spray of blood, but as the foe fell violently backward, Kanbei’s body tore free from Zensuke’s shoulders and crashed to the earth in a heap. “My lord! My lord!—Zensuke, focus on him alone!” The voice shouting from within the enemy throng belonged to their ally Morita Tahei. Engulfed by such numbers that his form had vanished entirely, he fought desperately—yet his sole concern appeared fixed on his master Kanbei’s peril behind him.

Yet at this moment, voices of forgotten allies echoed from nowhere. They must have been Fujita Jinbei, Gotō Uemon, Nagata Sansuke, and their men. “Zensuke! Here?” “We’ve come, Tahei!” Having rallied their comrades with shouts, they plunged into the Araki forces without so much as a glance sideways. Spears arced through the air. Camp blades snapped in half. Men sank teeth into flesh. Warriors clashed blade against blade.

Though they were Araki’s forces, though they were retainers of Murashige, precisely because they were those who had persisted in the siege this long without abandoning their duty to “perish with the castle,” they were, so to speak, a handpicked elite of stalwart warriors. Even with reinforcements from their allies joining in, they still did not yield. They unleashed a ferocious fighting power, as if to at least take Kuroda Kanbei’s head as a trophy and crown their final moments with glory. However, even that was but a momentary life-and-death struggle. At once, the numbers of Araki’s forces began to diminish. 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 their superior numbers.

Amidst this fierce battle, Kanbei—who had been cast down upon the earth—picked up a spear lying nearby and leveraged it as a staff to rise. He had no thought of flight. He meant to fight. Staggering unsteadily, he leveled the spearhead at shadowy figures he took for enemies and advanced. Yet this lasted but ten or twenty paces. With a heavy thud, he fell once more. This time he did not rise. Blood seeped from the joint of his left leg. Lying like an overturned tortoise, Kanbei yet thrashed about with his remaining leg and brandished the spear clutched in both hands.

Three The cool night air had roused him from momentary unconsciousness. Kanbei regained consciousness yet lay blankly staring vacantly at the sky.

The long imprisonment that could not be overcome by will alone might have ingrained in him a particular way of living. Amid raging waves, he had learned to surrender to their flow and follow heaven’s mandate. Moreover, he resolutely refused to be drawn into the abyss of nihilism—no matter what despair confronted him, his heart never relinquished the flame of life, clinging always to hope. No—through this, transcending even life and hope itself, reaching the final moment yet remaining unshaken by it, attaining a clarity where heaven, earth, body, and mind were perceived as one—this too was a form of spiritual discipline.

“...It seems I’ve been reborn into this world anew.” In the depths of his vacant eyes, Kanbei now thought something like that. Beautiful stars filled his view. It was autumn, and the Milky Way spanned the night sky. “What an immense sky.” Like a newborn infant, his pupils were astonished, struck by the beauty of this world. Unaware, tears streamed ceaselessly from the corners of his eyes. The tears even tickled his ear canals. Wasn’t even this perception itself proof that I was alive? Out of gratitude, a new spring gushed forth, heating his tear ducts once more.

"...Am I lying on a plank?" At last, that thought had come to him. His body kept shaking. Creak, creak—something groaned. "That's right—I'm being carried on a stretcher somewhere." "But where are they taking me?" No agony or doubt could take root, even had he tried. When he questioned his heart, it answered only with gratitude. As though an ancient sage, his mind mirrored the boundless void—his very being feeling like heaven and earth's cherished child.

Rippling rice fields

One “Oh...” “Have you come to, My Lord?” “My Lord, My Lord.”

Someone approached the stretcher and leaned their face close. Kanbei moved his pupils. They were his cherished retainers - Kuriyama Zensuke and Morita Tahei.

“...Hmm.” “Hmm.” Kanbei sniffled mucus. He was aware of wanting to wipe his runny nose, but his hands wouldn’t move. “Bearers.” “Wait a moment.”

Zensuke had the soldiers carrying the plank stretcher halt their progress and addressed the warriors in front and behind, “Does anyone have a handkerchief?” he inquired. A warrior offered folded paper. Zensuke crumpled it up and wiped his lord’s mucus. Kanbei, like a child, snorted out the congestion from deep in his nose with renewed force. “My Lord, this must be painful for you, but please bear with it a little longer—to the main camp.”

A general whose face he did not recognize spoke from behind. Morita Tahei mediated,

“The security during our passage through camp positions is being provided by Lord Takigawa Kazumasu’s retainer, Lord Iida Chitayu.” Morita Tahei specifically stated this to ease his lord’s mind. Though Kanbei’s voice remained hoarse and threadlike, he kept lying supine on the door plank. “Chitayu... You have my gratitude.” He spoke these words alone. The retainer of Lord Takigawa—who had been standing stiffly behind while addressing what he assumed was a critically ill patient on the stretcher—perhaps feeling intimidated, hastily knelt down.

“By Lord Kazumasu’s instructions, we shall first escort you to the main camp to meet Lord Nobunaga, after which all matters shall await His Lordship’s orders. As we now pass solely through allied territories, there is no danger whatsoever, but to ensure guidance, we humbly accompany you from beyond Itami Castle’s walls.” “We should arrive at Furuikeida by dawn.” “We have also brought a physician with us, so please do not hesitate to give any orders you may have.”

he said again, rephrasing his words formally.

Two Shaken and jostled, Kanbei drifted between sleep and wakefulness. During that time, the accompanying doctor made him drink hot herbal medicine twice.

Even the medicine tasted good. Yet as his tongue began distinguishing bitter from sweet, physical pain surfaced simultaneously. The joint in his left leg proved especially severe - inflamed enough to suggest fever. When he lowered his gaze past his chest, a bandaged mass too thick to recognize as his own limb lay propped on a bent knee. Moving it would demand strength equal to uprooting an ancient tree's gnarled roots. "We're about ten *chō* (two kilometers) from Lord Nobunaga's headquarters at Furuikeida."

After being told this, Kanbei visualized Nobunaga’s form in his mind for the first time. He knew well how Nobunaga had regarded him up to this day, and how Nobunaga had perceived the strange misfortune that had befallen him. No one from outside should have informed him of this, but even if he couldn’t know other circumstances, he had clearly heard that much.

(You may uphold loyalty to Nobunaga, but Nobunaga does not value your fidelity so highly.) Rather than that—he must have regarded you as an insufferable schemer full of stratagems. As proof—when Nobunaga heard you entered Itami and never returned—how do you think his fury erupted? Did he not denounce you to extremes—traitor! tactician! ingrate! (Can you not see? Like raging fire he commanded Hideyoshi in Chūgoku—"Crush Sōen at Himeji! Wipe out his clan!")

These were the words that Araki Murashige had repeatedly come to the prison to drill into him shortly after his imprisonment. Needless to say, Murashige had used this to plant seeds of resentment toward Nobunaga in Kanbei’s heart and endeavored to employ this man as a valuable asset within his own camp. Of course, Kuroda Kanbei was not one to fail to discern the intentions of such a man—he had merely smiled without answering—but even he, when told how Nobunaga, misunderstanding him, had sent orders to Hideyoshi and Takenaka Hanbei in unreflective fury to execute his own son Matsuchiyo—offered up as a hostage—and how Nobunaga had reportedly seen the boy’s head in Azuchi, was struck as both a parent and a man by a sorrow so profound that every hair on his body stood on end—a sorrow born of facing a shallow mind that refused to understand him.

(——Since Gifu, how many times had I knelt before you, bared my heart, and laid bare my innermost thoughts? I overcame every hardship faced by my liege house, the Kodera family—staked not just my father Sōen’s fate but that of our entire household—even offered up my own heir Matsuchiyo as a hostage at your command—) …Does he still see this Kanbei as a man devoid of honor, ignorant of a warrior’s code? (To be judged so false a samurai—nothing cuts deeper. Nothing could be more outrageous.)

In prison, he had even bitten through the sleeve of his kimono. His blood boiled and his flesh throbbed; for countless nights, he had glared resentfully at Nobunaga’s blind heartlessness, cursing the commander who knew no mercy for his warriors. But it was fortunate that he was not one to lose himself in such resentment. For him to grasp a singular view of life and death, he first had to uproot and discard these resentments and angers—mere weeds in the heart—with a mindset so self-mocking that he could deride them as trivial; otherwise, he could never have reached such a state.

To overcome such inner adversaries, that pitch-black, icy prison cell had been truly a divinely granted training ground. (It was precisely there that I could achieve it—) Much later, even Kuroda Kanbei himself would occasionally recall those times and use them as a cautionary reminder against being ensnared by selfish, ordinary thoughts during the complacency of peacetime.

Now, be that as it may.

Kanbei was now being carried toward Nobunaga in his present condition. With each step taken by the stretcher bearers and samurai flanking them front and rear, Nobunaga’s countenance drew closer to the head of the door plank where he lay.

If this were—if this moment had come— Back when Araki Murashige had fed him those twisted truths, he surely would have found this humiliation before Nobunaga unbearable. He would have thrust a finger westward— (To Chūgoku!) —and roared the words. He might have spat and vowed never to look upon Nobunaga’s face again in this life. But now—on this dawning morning—no such bitterness stirred. Gazing faintly at autumn’s earth from his makeshift stretcher,

"Ah, this year's autumn harvest is bountiful indeed," he thought. As he felt joy at the sight of ripe, drooping ears in the roadside rice fields and gazed at dewdrops glittering on the five grains in the morning sun, his heart swelled, overwhelmed by heaven and earth's vast benevolence. Now, in his mind, Nobunaga's figure and a single drooping ear of rice no longer seemed distinct. He had come to clearly understand that far greater things existed within this world. And regarding the errors Nobunaga had committed - it was all too evident that he himself amounted to nothing more than a solitary ear of grain, a mere retainer in spirit.

Clear Skies at the Camp Gate

1

Nobunaga, who was here at the main camp, had hardly slept a wink since the previous night. Though the fall of Itami Castle was inevitable and he knew full well the war situation was progressing decisively in his forces' favor, Nobunaga still listened to each hour's reports, issued commands and judgments, and received surrendering enemy generals—thus the watchfires in his camp blazed without ceasing through the night.

And finally at dawn, “Itami Castle has completely fallen.” “The suppression of the remnants, and the entry into the castle by our forces under Lord Nobutada and Lord Nobusumi have also been completed.” Upon hearing this report, he dozed off briefly for the first time, using his arm as a pillow—though only fitfully. Despite this, he had already risen with the morning sun and was strolling through the encampment grounds teeming with soldiers and horses. Rising early had been his lifelong habit. No matter how late he retired, his waking hour scarcely varied. The camp centered around the sprawling estate of Koikeida’s local magnate and the surrounding fields. Nobunaga stood beneath a solitary persimmon tree, his gaze arrested by branches sagging with crimson fruit that glistened wetly in the rising sun. Just then, Yuasa Jinsuke—a mounted guard—came hurrying from the direction of the main earthen gate that served as the army’s headquarters, his demeanor urgent. From a distance, he knelt before Nobunaga’s figure,

“At this very moment, Kuroda Kanbei, who had been imprisoned in Itami Castle under the protection of Lord Takigawa’s retainers, has been rescued by our allies and is being brought here.” “Where shall we escort him, my lord?” he inquired of his lord. “What? Kanbei? …That Kuroda Kanbei has been rescued from prison, you say?” “That is correct, my lord.” “He is in a near-death state, laid upon a door plank, accompanied by a physician arranged through Lord Takigawa’s consideration, his retainers, and several of the Kuroda family’s samurai who have come along.”

“Hmm… So he remained imprisoned within Itami Castle until this very day?” “……” “Undoubtedly, my lord. It is believed he had been confined by Araki Murashige within those walls since last October—a full year—and suffered cruel treatment.” “So it was true after all… Since we had no knowledge of the situation within the castle walls, I had thought it unthinkable, but…” Each of Nobunaga’s words carried shame and a long sigh. It was also a profound regret steeped in astonishment. For a moment, he stood dumbstruck, his expression such that he even forgot to respond to the man before him.

One of the attendants, Maeda Matajirō, whispered quietly from beside him as if to relieve his lord’s bewilderment. “In any case, this warrior shall go and check Lord Kanbei’s condition, verify the details, and then make appropriate arrangements.”

“Yes. Do it. See it done.” “But if Kanbei and the entire group were to request an audience?” “Of course I will meet them. If he truly harbored no disloyalty toward the Oda clan and was entirely ensnared in Murashige’s treachery, enduring such circumstances until this day—then this is indeed a most pitiable state of affairs. This is no time to debate meeting him or not.” Nobunaga found himself so perplexed about how to comfort him that it bordered on bewilderment. “Go quickly and see to it.”

“Understood.” Maeda Matajirō ran off toward that direction together with Yuasa Jinsuke.

2 This morning, amid the clamor of the victorious army, someone who appeared neither a frontline casualty nor an enemy invalid—lying motionless on a door plank under guard by Takigawa’s retainers and physicians—entered this main camp, prompting many officers and soldiers who glimpsed this along the way...

“What is this?” “Who is that?” All strained their eyes and whispered among themselves. Before long, word spread from someone among them that this was Kuroda Kanbei of Himeji, who had entered Itami Castle the previous October and had been missing in action ever since. “What?!” “Is that him?” At this, they all expressed mutual astonishment at his ravaged form, and at the same time, “So it seems he was still alive after all.” And now, as if suddenly recalling the various rumors that had been noisily circulating in society at the time of the disaster, and having been misled by those baseless tales, each of them hurriedly corrected within their hearts the mistaken perceptions they had held about Kanbei until this day.

What immediately came to people's minds was the matter of Kanbei's legitimate heir, Matsuchiyo. The child who had been entrusted to the Oda family as a hostage had been ordered executed the previous year due to Nobunaga's suspicions and fleeting anger toward Kanbei—it remained fresh in everyone's memory how Takenaka Shigeharu had publicly displayed the severed head in Azuchi, a fact openly discussed in society until early that spring.

“Even if his innocence is now proven, what anguish will grip that father’s heart when he learns his child has already been beheaded? …And those samurai who have upheld their loyalty until this day—might they not instead come to resent the Oda clan henceforth?” Those struck by Kanbei’s loyalty and the shock of his survival now anxiously speculated about such potential dangers. And imagining this morning’s meeting between Nobunaga and the man carried through the camp gate on a door plank, they were seized by an uncanny tension.

The stretcher bearers and guards who entered there temporarily set down the patient’s door plank in the shade of the wide-sleeved gate’s recess and waited for Nobunaga’s command. “Oh… So this is Lord Kanbei?” When Maeda Matajirō saw the person on the door plank, he halted his steps and, without another word, began to shed tears profusely.

Before long, he quietly kneeled by the head of the door plank and peered in. “Do you understand? It is Maeda Matajirō. It is Toshiie. Lord Kanbei—do you understand?” he said, as if making an effort to keep any trace of grief from his voice. Kanbei, who seemed apt to dimly close his eyes at any moment, raised his gaze upon recognizing Matajirō’s voice and nodded once. When he saw that face, Matajirō’s eyelids burned even hotter. He did not grieve over Kanbei’s wild beard or sunken cheeks, but was made to weep by the state of his heart. He came to understand to the marrow of his bones, as a fellow general of the warrior class, the extraordinary nature of upholding martial honor.

“How auspicious… Lord Kanbei, you shall soon have your audience.” Matajirō asked only this. Kanbei nodded again, “I entrust it to you…” he answered faintly, then added as if half to himself, “In this defiled state, it is most improper for me to appear before my lord—yet I have no recourse.”

he said as if half to himself. “Not at all,” Matajirō comforted him as he stood up. Then he listened to a message from Takigawa Kazumasu’s retainer and heard in detail from Himeji’s direct retainers such as Morita Tahei and Kuriyama Zensuke about the circumstances leading to their lord’s rescue, all with profound emotion— “Ah… I can well imagine the hardships you have endured.” “Yet precisely because of that, I can only imagine how profound today’s joys must be for all involved.” “In any case, please bring Lord Kanbei here quietly.” “I will guide you.”

Maeda took the lead and guided them into one of the field tents on the garden level. They would have preferred to carry him into the residence, but Kuroda Kanbei was still regarded as a rebel retainer not yet pardoned by Nobunaga. He remained a retainer subjected to such hatred that even his hostage son had been killed. Even though it was now clear this had been a misunderstanding, until Nobunaga himself granted pardon with his own words, they had no choice but to leave him lying on the ground upon the door plank, harsh as it was.

III Nobunaga had returned to his private chamber. He sat with lips pressed tight in uncharacteristic solemnity. As breakfast preparations concluded, attendants began bringing the meal when— “Leave it.” “Withdraw.”

And still, he remained deep in thought. He was a man unacquainted with regret. No matter how bitterly one might gnaw their navel in remorse, he was not the sort to look backward and let stagnation blunt his forward march. Yet this morning, a truly severe shame seeped into the furrows of his brow. His face bore the look of a man who had crammed his mouth full of gallstones. The first failure lay in misjudging human character. For a general, this meant forfeiting the absolute trust of his entire army. Though he had condemned many men in the past, never had he sentenced anyone without thorough observation.

The second was having ordered Matsuchiyo's execution as a hostage. When he considered how all this originated from having suspected Kanbei of being a traitorous rebel and acting on momentary impulse, he felt profound shame before himself and, as lord, found himself unable to face the man. Yet even as he engaged in such self-reflection, this was not a Nobunaga who would be shackled by introspection, hesitate to meet him, or contrive abject excuses. For Nobunaga, what always stirred his spirit was overcoming present adversities and envisioning future stratagems; what held scantest interest was their antithesis—events already past.

(This is troublesome... ...What face is that bastard making as he curses me?) When he muttered this inwardly, he had already completely erased the bewilderment from his brow. He was human. Mistakes and errors—even Nobunaga had them. He was not a god. A being who was not a god attempted to achieve the great task of unifying the realm. If there had been major faults in his undertaking, he would have had to cease as one unfit for the task; but for minor faults, Heaven would likely forgive him, and Kanbei too would pardon him—he had firmly settled on this thought.

In any case, compared to the grand work and ambition he now pursued, such bitter feelings resolved themselves into trifles—not even worth lingering at the roots of his teeth. Soon rousing both will and body to stand, "Well... Will he meet me?" he muttered alone, then strode across the wide sunlit engawa veranda drenched in autumn's bright glow. Why had that man spent a year in Itami's prison? Had they truly dragged him from the battlefield's midst? What state did his injuries take? Nobunaga seemed to have momentarily forgotten even to hear Maeda Matajirō's answers—Matajirō who'd been dispatched precisely to ascertain these details.

Seeing Matajirō approaching from afar, he halted his steps as if suddenly remembering. And as he listened to Matajirō’s report mid-stride, he nodded several times. “Is he in such critical condition? …And where have you put him?” “I have guided him to the eastern curtain enclosure.”

Nobunaga walked there himself. Last night, he had used it as his command post where he listened to battle reports and met with messengers. Around the field curtains, remnants of bonfires lay scattered.

Abruptly, Nobunaga entered that curtain enclosure. About ten paces away on the earth, many figures lay uniformly prostrated, but what first leapt into his vision was a single door plank upon the ground and the flat human form lying atop it.

“............” Nobunaga did not sit on the camp stool and instead remained standing there for some time, staring fixedly at it.

IV

“Tahei. “…Has he arrived?” From atop the door plank, Kanbei asked in a low voice. He seemed to have perceived this from how those around him prostrated themselves in unison.

Morita Tahei, who was right beside him, slightly raised his forehead from where it was pressed to the ground. “We are in Lord Nobunaga’s presence,” he whispered. “He stands beside the camp stool.” Kanbei suddenly began to stir his body with effort. But that left leg of his refused to budge. Tahei could not grasp his master’s intent. Had the wound flared with fresh agony? Or had news of Nobunaga’s arrival overwhelmed him? Losing all composure, Tahei pressed his face close to his lord’s.

“How does His Lordship appear?”

He asked in a voice too low to reach Nobunaga. Then Kanbei entwined his slender arms like wisteria vines around Tahei’s shoulders, “Raise me up. Let me sit up. …And hold my body from behind so I don’t collapse,” he commanded. Nobunaga went and sat on the camp stool. “Kanbei, there’s no need to rise. Stay as you are.—I permit it, I permit it. Remain as you are.” However, no matter how those around him tried to persuade him, Kanbei would not consent. Finally, Tahei and Zensuke lifted him up very gradually from both sides. When they moved him, even this morning, a copious amount of blood burst through the thick bandage from his left leg joint. It was enough to make one doubt where in this withered-tree-like body such a quantity of blood could reside.

Finally managing to sit facing Nobunaga, Kanbei looked up at his figure through eyes like two hollows, and at the same time jerked as if breaking beneath his ribs and braced himself with both hands. "I never thought I would live to stand before you again, yet here I behold your unchanged visage... No joy surpasses this for Kanbei." "...Last year, through my shallow wisdom, I brought calamity upon myself and caused you prolonged concern." "Please grant me your forgiveness."

Before Kanbei could finish speaking, Nobunaga rose from the camp stool and walked over. And then he knelt on one knee right in front of him. Then, extending that hand, he stroked Kanbei’s jutting shoulder bone. “Kanbei.” “At this point, I have no words.” “I was angry at you.” “It was because I valued your talent too highly.” “I suspected you had fabricated an excuse to enter Itami Castle and join forces with Araki.” “After that, it was unclear whether you were even in Itami Castle or not, but my suspicions remained unallayed.” “...until just last night.”

“All of it culminates in the calamity I invited through my own lack of foresight.” “I have no excuse.” “No—it is I, Nobunaga, who should offer that apology.” “Forgive me.” “I am not worthy.”

“You must forgive me, Kanbei.” “Please say no more. I have nowhere to place myself.” “Just as even a sage like you can overreach in wisdom, Nobunaga erred this time. The hostage Matsuchiyo sent by you—this past month, Nobunaga ordered his beheading. …Do you resent me?”

“I bear no resentment whatsoever.” “He was your beloved.” “All the more so as your legitimate heir.” “As a parent, I felt such pity for my child that I would have gladly taken his place… Yet in this turbulent world—” “Do you blame the world?” “I do not hold such a view.”

“You don’t blame Nobunaga, you don’t blame the world—then who do you blame?” “I find no grounds to assign blame to anyone. But if you would occasionally regard this as but one small stone added to the great undertaking of unifying the realm, no greater solace could exist for me.”

At that moment, Maeda Matajirō, who had been waiting beside the camp stool, was called by Yuasa Jinsuke and briskly stepped outside the tent. What an eventful day this was! For this morning, here at the camp gate, there had arrived a visitor who would prove even more astonishing to both Nobunaga and Kanbei—a man dismounting his horse and requesting an audience. He prostrated himself with his hair touching the ground.

1 A frail-looking, slender and pale-skinned general with a demeanor unlike a warrior, and—

Around thirteen or fourteen years old. A young, lovely warrior wearing armor suited to his stature and bearing round eyes and a dimpled smile.

—Now.

It was these two who had dismounted their horses at the camp gate there. As they had three or four retainers on foot with them, they immediately handed over their dismounted horses to their attendants, and the gaunt warrior, accompanied by the young warrior, “I wish to have an audience with Lord Nobunaga.” he conveyed via the gate guard commander, “I am Takenaka Shigeharu, who, due to illness and convalescence, was granted leave from the Chūgoku front and has long secluded myself in my hometown’s Hōdaiyama Castle and Nanzenji Temple, devoting myself to medicinal remedies. As my health has recently shown some signs of recovery, I am now returning to the Chūgoku battlefield—and on my way, I wished to offer greetings and also convey my congratulations on the fall of Itami Castle.”

he added. When the commander relayed the message to headquarters, Ujike Sakyonosuke and Yuasa Jinsuke emerged. Since both were acquainted with Takenaka Shigeharu—known as Hanbei—

“Ah. Why have you come here today?” At this critical juncture, they welcomed him with wide-eyed astonishment at his unexpected visit. Then Jinsuke asked, “Who is the child accompanying you? I was under the impression your household had no son.” As Yuasa looked bewildered, Shigeharu said: “Take note. This is none other than Matsuchiyo, Lord Kuroda’s legitimate heir, whom I have been entrusted with by Lord Nobunaga. Wishing to show his father Kanbei this sight of him grown so robust—and to present him before our lord—I spurred my horse and hastened here last night from Nanzenji Temple upon hearing Itami Castle was engulfed in flames.”

he said nonchalantly. But the listeners’ astonishment was beyond all measure. For it had become everyone’s common belief that Matsuchiyo was already dead. Therefore, they could not help but feel immense unease and hesitation in directly conveying this unexpected development to Nobunaga. Therefore, they had thought to inquire once or twice about the circumstances first, but it seemed that news of Takenaka’s arrival had already reached Nobunaga’s ears, for the page Mori Oran—

“Lord Yuasa, Lord Ujike.” “In any case, His Lordship commands that Lord Takenaka be summoned here.” “His Lordship appears to be in urgent haste, so bring him to this place at once.”

he came running from the distant tent and urged. "Then—" Yuasa and Ujike followed Oran and, guiding Hanbei Shigeharu and Matsuchiyo, timidly entered the tent. Indeed, as if timed precisely, there sat Kuroda Kanbei Takakage, still propping himself up on the wooden plank. What lay in Kanbei’s eyes the moment he glimpsed Shigeharu and Matsuchiyo—to depict this with my clumsy brush would pale before leaving it to the imagination of parents in this world, who might far better perceive its truth.

Two

Kanbei was not a direct retainer of Nobunaga, but Takenaka Shigeharu (Hanbei) held the status of a direct retainer of the Oda clan. In accordance with his station, he quietly sat facing Nobunaga, apologized for having long neglected his battlefield duties due to illness, and offered congratulations on the victory at Itami and Nobunaga's continued health—his tone throughout bearing no trace of urgency befitting such critical times. As for the boy Matsuchiyo whom he had kept waiting beside him, he did not touch upon the matter himself until questioned by his lord.

Nobunaga could no longer endure it and finally asked thus. “Shigeharu.” “And who is this child thou hast brought with thee?” Then Hanbei’s serene countenance, for the first time, held a smile like a pond’s surface rippling from a dropped pebble, “Have you already forgotten?” “This is Matsuchiyo, the Kuroda family’s hostage whom my lord commanded me to take into custody at Azuchi Castle last year and raise properly—”

“From the start, I knew this must be Matsuchiyo,” Nobunaga began, his voice trailing off as his gaze lingered on the boy. “Yet…” How could Matsuchiyo still be alive? He had unequivocally ordered the child’s execution. “That was last winter, was it not?” “It is exactly as you say, my lord.”

“And you—in obedience to my command—soon had a severed head sent to Azuchi. What was the meaning of that?” “It was a decoy from the outset.”

“What? A decoy head?” “Yes. Having steeled myself for your censure, I dared deceive you thus—my lord.”

“Hm... So that’s how it was.” Letting out a groan, Nobunaga looked once more at Matsuchiyo’s figure.

The contrast between Takenaka Shigeharu and Nobunaga was like fire and water. The eyes of the side retainers, who had been watching the outcome with bated breath wondering how things would turn out, were now unwittingly drawn to Nobunaga’s complexion and the corners of his lips. No trace of the anger people had feared showed on Nobunaga’s face. On the contrary, within a composure that seemed greatly relieved, even an irrepressible joy overflowed. And in this man’s eyes, a candid self-reflection—unprecedented in all that had ever been witnessed—swirled unmistakably within their depths.

“...I see.” “So that’s how it was.”

He still knew no other way to speak but this. To observe Kanbei, the father—his despondent, speechless countenance seemed all the more natural. Even one as steeled as Kanbei could not transcend the worldly anguish of parenthood when confronted with his child—this son who should have perished—now unexpectedly alive and thriving before his eyes. Swallowing tears and sniffles, the more he tried to restrain himself, the more his body writhed in torment upon the plank where he lay prostrate.

“…Now, I humbly ask that you punish me.” Takenaka Shigeharu soon made his appeal to Nobunaga without hesitation. “The act of distorting your command and acting solely upon my own judgment is a crime deserving ten thousand deaths.” “The law must not be disrupted.” “The sole reason I have come before you today is to receive your judgment and nothing else.” “Please, I humbly beseech you to order my death.” Then suddenly, Kuroda Kanbei thrashed his immobilized body involuntarily and cried out from atop the wooden plank as though weeping and shouting at once.

“I am indebted.” “Lord Hanbei.” “For your friendship, Kanbei lacks words to express gratitude.” “Even should I die, your compassion shall never fade from memory.” “But I cannot trade your precious life for one such as my son’s.” Surely upon seeing Matsuchiyo, the parent’s hand beckoned. “Matsuchiyo.” “Come here.” “Yes.”

Matsuchiyo moved closer to his father's side. When faced with his father's utterly changed appearance, even this boy could not hold back his tears. He covered his face with both hands and burst into loud sobs. "It's shameful for a samurai's child to look so pitiful." Kanbei admonished yet soothed him as if scolding, "For you, who would be the great benefactor second only to your parents?" "It is Lord Takenaka Hanbei." "That may be so." "Then you should understand what must be done." "Can we let the great benefactor who saved you perish?" "Before Lord Hanbei receives death through our lord's censure, you must take that short sword at your waist and cut open your belly." "I will bear witness." "You are my child." "Die in a way that invites no mockery from others!"

“Yes.” The boy answered, widening his round eyes as far as they would go. His face swelled with the effort of holding back tears. And he took the dagger and began to undo his sash. —

At that moment, Nobunaga suddenly walked over and tapped the boy’s shoulder two or three times. And as if distributing his words equally to both Kanbei and Takenaka Hanbei,

“Kazuko.” “That’s enough now. That’s enough.” “There’s no need to die.” “Everything arose from Nobunaga’s mistake.” “First, forgive Nobunaga’s error.” “—Long ago, in Han China, there was a story like this.”

As he returned to the camp stool once more, he cast his gaze toward the attendants on either side and spoke.

“This concerns Cao Cao of Wei.—Long ago, while marching through wheat fields, Cao Cao took pity on the peasants and issued a decree: ‘Anyone who damages the wheat shall be executed.’” “But then Cao Cao’s own horse bolted and trampled the wheat fields.” “Then, it is said that Cao Cao—having issued the law himself and then violated it himself—cut off his own hair and placed it on the ground, declaring, ‘How can I lead my soldiers now?’... Shigeharu, was this not a story I once heard from you?” “Is that so?” “Nobunaga must also cut his hair and place it upon the ground.—Though I do not follow the customs of Han China, in spirit, I reproach myself just as deeply.” “Shigeharu, go immediately to the Chūgoku region and assist Hideyoshi.” “Kanbei, you should go to the nearby Arima Hot Springs and recuperate for the time being.”

Nobunaga then,

“Matsuchiyo.” “Matsuchiyo. Come here.” He summoned him beneath the camp stool, “What a good boy,” he said while patting his head. “To have such a father and such a teacher—you are truly fortunate.” “You shall surely achieve glorious military deeds.” “Follow Shigeharu and march to Chūgoku.” “Nobunaga himself will host the celebration for your first campaign.”

And, taking his own short sword, he bestowed it into Matsuchiyo’s hands.

III

The military palanquin arrived at Ikenobo Pavilion in Arima.

The proprietor of Ikenobo Pavilion, Hidari Tachibana Uemon, directed his employees to guide the critically ill patient to a secluded inner room away from prying eyes. And the household members, united in purpose, respectfully and kindly tended to him.

It had been a year. Kanbei soaked in the hot water. His body, reduced to little more than skin and bones, was supported by the hands of maids and male inn workers as if handling a fragile object and carefully lowered into the bath. Kanbei rested his head on the edge of the bath. But he couldn’t keep his body from floating.

“Ah…” For the first time, he felt something like human awareness return to his body. He thought: I’m alive. “How strange... How strange it all is.” How strange it all was. Looking back now, everything seemed like a miracle. That Matsuchiyo was alive—this struck him more profoundly than his own survival. It was a miracle beyond miracles.

He felt that "all of this stems from Shigeharu Hanbei's friendship," while simultaneously being unable to resist sensing Hideyoshi's benevolence behind it. Moreover, he could not help but perceive the will of heaven and earth. "When viewed broadly," he thought, "both those who still risked their lives for me and those who had saved my child can only be ascribed to the decree of some unseen, immense force. Having preserved Kanbei's life, what does heaven now command this body to achieve in the world?"

Ultimately, his thoughts arrived there. In this state, there were neither petty affections nor present grievances. Nothing ached but what longed to regain health swiftly and answer heaven's will. "Since staying too long in the bath from the start might prove harmful, we'll stop here for today." With that, Hidari Tachibana Uemon, the proprietor, directed the servants and moved Kanbei's body as if scooping something up with a bamboo basket.

That day, they did not even scrub off the grime. However, as his hair had grown long like a woman’s over the past year, they merely combed it slightly and tied it with a cord. After putting on lice-free clothes and lying on his back atop the soft bedding, he felt as though he were floating in mid-air for a long time. When night fell, Kuriyama Zensuke, Morita Tahei, and others arrived afterward and conveyed the subsequent battle conditions at Itami. They told him that this time, the Oda army would not let the enemy catch their breath, and that a second general assault would immediately be launched against Araki Murashige’s two castles at Amagasaki and Hanakuma, which still retained their momentum.

“Also, Lord Takenaka, accompanying Lord Matsuchiyo, soon after bid farewell to Lord Nobunaga and departed for Harima Province.” “Though Lord Matsuchiyo seemed eager to come to your side, with the exceptional zeal of his first campaign, he departed in good spirits alongside Lord Takenaka.” Kanbei had been listening cheerfully to all these reports at his bedside, but eventually, perhaps due to fatigue from the bath, “I’m a bit sleepy.”

With that, he closed his eyes. He fell into a deep sleep. Then—after how much time had passed?—when he suddenly opened his eyes, there was only a quiet lamp burning by his pillow. No footsteps of the inn staff could be heard, no sign of the night watchmen Tahei or Zensuke—only the sound of pine winds outside the window played alone through the late night.

――I want water.

He thought he wanted water, but finding no one there, he merely glanced around his bedside from beneath his eyelids—when suddenly Kanbei stiffened in surprise. It was akin to the shock one might felt upon glimpsing something unearthly. “Wh-who’s there?” He had called out involuntarily. For in the dim lamplight’s reach, against the wall in a room’s corner, he had spotted the figure of a young woman—back pressed to plaster, head bowed as if willing herself to vanish.

When he barked, “Who’s there?” she too seemed to stiffen in surprise. She glanced up at Kanbei but immediately pressed her hands together,

“I am Okiku…”

she answered in a voice so low it was barely audible.

Heart’s Bond

One

“What? Okiku?...” Kanbei said with a puzzled look, but he still widened his eyes— “Oh! Aren’t you the daughter of Yojirōemon from Shikama? Aren’t you that Okiku?” He repeated it like someone in a dream.

He repeated over and over, like a person in a dream.

And even as she answered, he pressed impatiently, asking once more. “During my imprisonment in Itami Castle, was it not you who called my name from outside that high window where the wisteria vines crept—back in early summer, when the vines were still tender?” Okiku nodded. And perhaps stirred anew by the painful memories from that time, tears spilled onto her knees. “Why were you in Itami Castle?” Kanbei, as though now beginning to unravel a long-standing mystery, gradually forgot even the pain in his body lying within the sickbed. Then, at that moment, the sliding door opened, and Kuriyama Zensuke—

“Have you awoken?” he said, bringing in medicinal tea on a tray.

“Zensuke?” “I want water.” “Bring me water first.” When Kanbei said this, “I shall bring it.” With that, Okiku immediately stood up and left. After that, Zensuke whispered. “My Lord. You must have been quite startled.” “It was truly unexpected. Why on earth has Yojirōemon’s daughter come here?” “On the night we fled Itami Castle—even after Your Lordship had escaped—Kinugasa Kyūzaemon alone remained behind. He finally found Lady Okiku after she had fallen into the old pond behind the prison house and barely managed to pull her out.”

“Ah… So I was there that night as well?” “It was Lady Okiku who braved the flames and smoke to guide us to where you were, my lord. “If Lady Okiku had not been there at that time, I cannot say whether we lord and retainer would have been able to meet again like this.” “What I don’t understand is why Okiku was in Itami Castle.” "I was just asking her about that…" “From the moment we thirteen swore to die and departed Himeji for your rescue, My Lord, Lady Okiku had already been among the group sworn to die.”

“With her frail body…” “Her father Yojirōemon was advanced in years—so she implored us comrades to take her in his stead. And as she and Shiroganeya Shinpachi of Itami share a foster-sibling bond, we leveraged Shinpachi’s connections to sway defectors within the castle, secured her position in the inner chambers’ service, and had her secretly monitor Your Lordship’s condition at all times.” This marked the first time Kuroda Kanbei learned of these circumstances. As if numbed by an extraordinary surge of emotion, he fell silent. At that very moment, the soft tread of footsteps in the corridor reached the ears of lord and retainer alike. It was Okiku. She returned bearing water drawn into a vessel as commanded.

After drinking a bowl of water from her hand, Kanbei readjusted his reclined posture and covered his eyes against the pillow. “All of you should rest.” He gave this instruction both to the two present and to Morita Tahei and Kinugasa Kyūzaemon in the adjoining room, then had them extinguish the lamp at his bedside.

II

After about ten days had passed, Kuroda Kanbei became able to go from his room to the bath by himself. "I want to go to Chūgoku. I want to join the assault on Miki Castle as soon as possible." When his body regained some strength, Kuroda Kanbei kept insisting, causing his retainers no small trouble as they tried to pacify him. From Nobunaga came repeated inquiries. Each time the envoy came here, "Recuperate sufficiently and fully restore your health. Once you have done so, return to Himeji and rest at your leisure." and brought this gracious command along with various gifts.

From Kanbei came a formal petition: “It has reached my ears that Lord Hashiba still maintains his prolonged siege of Miki Castle even now today—the hardships of this extended encirclement being truly extraordinary. Once I have recovered from this illness, I most humbly entreat Your Lordship to grant me leave to rejoin the campaign in Chūgoku as before.”

he requested that his message be relayed to Nobunaga.

Of course, there was no objection to that matter, but Nobunaga sent yet another inquiry, earnestly urging him not to overexert himself. "I'm alright now. I can even ride a horse now. We depart from this inn tomorrow!"

It was the twentieth day.

Kuroda Kanbei finally stated his decision, showing no sign of yielding. Having no alternative, the retainers informed the innkeeper and, “Please secure horses for us.” they entreated.

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 was stationed—remained under siege by the Oda forces, and Hana no Kuma Castle in Hyōgo had yet to fall. It was only natural that danger on the journey was to be expected. However, they knew full well that if they tried to stop him by citing danger as a reason, given Kanbei’s temperament, he would not be deterred. Therefore, they had not mentioned a word of it until today and instead had exclusively used other comrades to investigate conditions along the route and determine where they should pass through.

“Safe passage through Hyōgoguchi could not possibly be managed without incident,” came the report,

Furthermore, "Though crossing by sea would be safest," came word from those familiar with maritime routes, "departing from Osaka remains perilous due to Hongan-ji's collusion. Your only option would be hiring fishing boats near Mikage for a covert departure." Yet even these rumors reaching them suggested maritime routes were fraught with graver dangers still. For while Hashiba's forces remained pinned at Miki Castle and Oda's main army besieged Araki Murashige, the Mōri clan was no passive observer. Wielding naval dominance over their Seto Inland Sea stronghold, Mōri warships large and small patrolled vigilantly from Chūgoku's coasts through Osaka to Aki Province - no vessel's passage went undetected these days.

“If we encounter an emergency, it would be all too easy for us to die fighting, but your body is still far from fully recovered, and with your leg not working properly, it would be extremely difficult for you to charge through enemy territory... Just where should we pass through to ensure your safety?” This problem had vexed Tahei and Zensuke until the night before their departure from the hot spring inn. Yet Shiroganeya Shinpachi—who had kept away for some time—suddenly appeared at this inn on their departure morning, bearing an unexpected solution as his offering.

That was a Konoe family travel permit. Though their association had been severed in recent years, the bond between Kuroda Kanbei’s grandfather Akashi Masakaze and the Konoe family’s head was no shallow one—even when considered through their shared path of poetry. Shiroganeya Shinpachi had occasionally undertaken work for the Konoe family in the past, so after the siege of Itami was lifted, he went to Kyoto with a comrade named Gotō Uemon, appealed Kanbei’s circumstances, and successfully petitioned for a noble letter certifying that officials of various ranks would be traveling west on Konoe family business.

III He could barely walk without a cane. The injured leg—though the flesh of the wound had indeed healed—had become such that he could not walk without a severe limp.

"This will likely never heal in my lifetime." That morning, seen off by the innkeeper Hidari Tachibana Uemon and a crowd of others, Kuroda Kanbei walked out to the eaves of the hot spring inn and muttered those words while gazing at his own leg.

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 onto the saddle. “It’s inconvenient for a samurai to be unable to mount a horse alone.” “From now on, I must practice riding frequently.” He laughed on horseback. Upon seeing this, the many people of the inn bowed their heads beneath the eaves. “You’ve taken such good care of me all this time.” Kuroda Kanbei urged his horse forward. Though mounting was difficult, once he was in the saddle, even with only one stirrup, he appeared to manage without issue.

Then, Kuriyama Zensuke approached the side of the horse, “My lord, my lord.” “Please say a word to her.” he urged in a low voice. Kanbei turned his gaze toward where he was urging. At the crossroads of Yunomachi, just outside Kōyaji Temple, Okiku stood watching them depart. By her side was her foster brother, Shiroganeya Shinpachi. Both of them, upon catching sight of Kuroda Kanbei’s gaze turning toward them, lowered their hands to their knees and silently bid farewell.

Kanbei urged his horse forward and went right up to the two of them. Okiku kept her face down and still did not raise it. Kanbei gazed at her as if waiting for her to raise her face.

“Okiku.” “...Yes.” “When will you return to your home in Shikama?”

“……” Okiku turned bright red. Though she kept her eyelids lowered, it was clear she wept. Tears fell onto the tips of her toes.

Kuroda Kanbei did not grasp the meaning behind her tears. He had assumed it was mere sorrow at their parting. With his old breeziness, he tried to console that melancholy. "It may remain difficult awhile yet, but once Miki Castle falls and this campaign ends, I shall visit Yojirō's house again." "...By then, you'll likely have returned to Shikama..." Then her tears flowed faster down her cheeks. As if unable to bear the sight any longer, her foster brother Shinpachi hastily stepped forward in her stead.

“My lord. Okiku will not be returning to Shikama.” “Hoh—so she’s staying here?” “I don’t know where she’ll end up living, but a marriage arrangement has been settled with a certain gentleman, and she will soon be wed.” “What, marrying into another family? …Now that you mention it, she is of marrying age.” Suddenly, Kuroda Kanbei too seemed filled with loneliness. He gazed intently at her figure. Until yesterday, in his own room where he had been recuperating, a branch of chrysanthemums she had placed in a Tanba ware vase had often been fragrant. Even leaving those behind in the room this morning had somehow felt ephemeral—and now, he was suddenly overwhelmed by a surge of emotion coursing through his entire being.

But he remained utterly nonchalant, “I see. That’s... quite auspicious.” “And which family is she marrying into?” “Though originally of Araki’s household, with this recent battle as the opportunity, he has joined the Oda forces—Itami Hyōgo-no-kami’s son, Itami Wataru—and through a connection, she has come to marry him.” As her foster brother, Shinpachi’s demeanor suggested how painfully difficult it was for him to speak. If it hadn’t been a place with many eyes like the Yunomachi crossroads, Okiku might have collapsed in tears. She hid behind her foster brother and covered her face with her sleeve.

“Hmm.” “To wed the son of Itami Hyōgo-no-kami—a surrendered general—what strange fate. Yet even a surrendered general under Lord Oda’s banner makes us fellow vassals now.” “Live well.” “Thank you, my lord.” “Okiku.” “All that transpired within those castle walls—I shall not forget it while breath remains in this body.” “Be a worthy wife.”

Okiku could not respond. She remained hidden behind Shinpachi’s back. But the moment Kuroda Kanbei’s horse began to move, she pushed aside her sleeve and desperately caught a glimpse of the man on horseback. Kuroda Kanbei also turned around. And catching sight of her terribly anguished eyelids, he—against his heart’s pull—lightly whipped the horse’s flank.

Tahei, Kyūzaemon, Zensuke and the others, hurried by that, left their farewells half-spoken and raced off following the horse’s lead.

Four Whether they took the Hyōgoguchi route or headed into Harima Province, the road passed without incident. Easier done than feared—the Konoe family’s travel pass, which they had kept as a protective talisman, only needed to be presented once at the checkpoint near Hanakuma Castle’s Minatogawa crossing. “You likely cannot fathom how greatly your return is being rejoiced over and awaited day after day by all in Himeji—from the retired lord to Her Ladyship and even the ladies-in-waiting like Lady Wako.” Even Zensuke, Tahei, and the others were vividly imagining and gossiping about such things along the way, and Kuroda Kanbei too wore an expression as though he wished to meet them as soon as possible.

“That’s right. After all, it’s not every day a man who was never supposed to return alive comes back like this.”

They had been chatting cheerfully like this, but when they reached the vicinity of Kakogawa, they suddenly changed their course. “I only need Zensuke to accompany me.” “Kyūzaemon and Tahei—return ahead and properly inform those in Himeji of my safety.” “Once Miki Castle falls as well, I will return at least once.” Leaving only a message for his home province en route, he himself immediately headed for the remote northern Harima region where Hashiba Hideyoshi had been maintaining a prolonged encampment.

As they headed deeper into the mountainous regions, autumn's colors intensified, making them acutely aware of the season's progression. The wretched roads bore deeply carved ruts from supply wagons that had churned through them. Everywhere lay remnants of shattered palisades and abandoned trenches; even broken swords amid the grass and rusted helmet bowls testified to the years of relentless warfare that had ravaged this land. Having reduced each fortress through brute force, Hideyoshi's army now pressed their main camp far beyond Hirai Mountain—where Kanbei had once commanded—confronting Miki Castle, which still defiantly held against them. They had positioned their new encampment on elevated ground so near the enemy that a shouted challenge might reach opposing ears.

“Takayasu. He has returned.” “Oh! Kanbei?” “Kanbei?” “I must apologize for the concern I caused.” “I was truly worried for a time.” “But… you made it. You made it!” The profound emotion Hashiba Hideyoshi and Kuroda Kanbei felt upon reuniting there after over a year defied all description through words or writing. Moreover, they were two men who required no abundance of words to share it. The original text of the *Mashakuki*, which recorded the actual conditions of that time, conveyed those circumstances most vividly and skillfully portrayed even the nuanced essence of these two heroes’ remarkable qualities, leaving nothing unsaid.

Lord Chikuzen met Takayasu, took his hand, pressed it to his face, and indeed rejoiced at this meeting in their present life. Now, the loyalty of those retainers who risked their lives to venture into the enemy castle was indeed rare in this world. "How shall I repay this debt?" I [Hideyoshi] wept without regard for propriety, and Takayasu [Kanbei], too, for a time could not stem his tears. Kanbei was comforted. More than Nobunaga's merciful decree, more than the single branch of flowers Lady Kiku had arranged—it was this. In the single spiritual pact between men—Hideyoshi having poured his tears onto Kanbei's hands—he could forget everything. The over-a-year-long misery and suffering, and his body now permanently disabled—he had completely forgotten even these, and beyond that—

――If it was for this person― He couldn't help but strengthen his resolve.

美人臨死可儀容

One

Kuroda Kanbei was alive and well. The news that Kuroda Kanbei had returned safely to camp instantly spread through the allies' defensive positions. Against the impregnable enemy castle, their forces—which had shown considerable fatigue from prolonged siege—now gained a thread of renewed morale. His return alone held immense significance. Takenaka Hanbei, who had earlier accompanied Matsuchiyo to this Chūgoku region, came to Hideyoshi’s encampment immediately upon receiving word. “My—it has been too long,” he said. “To behold you unharmed today... Truly fortune and misfortune twist like strands of rope. Life’s unpredictability defies understanding.”

As was his wont, he remained sparing with words and expressionless as ever, yet in the spiritual sincerity of rejoicing at his friend’s revival, he even surpassed Hideyoshi. That night, Hashiba Hideyoshi hosted a modest banquet. “Though provisions grow scarce even in this encampment, let us savor what little remains in this sake jar for its poetic charm. How long has it been since we three met undisturbed—”

And so, the lord and his two retainers sat in a triangular formation and talked until late into the night.

Autumn in the mountains was cold. Kanbei continued to show restraint and did not drink much, and Hanbei scarcely ever held his cup. It might have been due to the moonlight reflecting from the eaves of the encampment, but Kanbei grew concerned at Hanbei Shigeharu’s excessively pale face and suddenly asked: “By the way—has your illness improved somewhat?” “All day today, it seems I’ve been celebrated solely for my survival.” “Ah... This humble one’s condition remains unchanged...”

Hanbei looked back at his own emaciated form and offered a self-deprecating smile. "In the end, this ailing body seems incurable—even the physicians have thrown in the towel. Yet I met a lord one might not encounter in a hundred years, gained friends rare even for those blessed with long life, and was born into an unparalleled era. Having lived thirty-six years, I’ve no cause to resent heaven."

In fact, Hanbei’s condition that evening was such that he had a fever and periodically suffered from chills. The reason he, still in convalescence, pushed himself to return to this battlefield was not because his illness had healed, but because he had realized that his disease was incurable and his death was not far off. Having resolved that it would be utterly regrettable for one born a warrior to die upon tatami mats, he had accompanied Matsuchiyo and descended to Chūgoku, using that opportunity to return to Hideyoshi’s side.

Hideyoshi had perceived that Hanbei’s condition showed no improvement from before and was deeply concerned, but there was a nobility in Hanbei’s bearing—as though he had serenely accepted life and death with crystalline clarity. Even Hideyoshi’s words could not stir the physical manifestation of that resolve.

2

It was late autumn. Hanbei Shigeharu’s illness was suddenly reported to have taken a critical turn. The curtains of his encampment swayed chillingly in the evening wind, and that night, within the log-built sickroom, Hideyoshi remained steadfast at the bedside, while Kanbei had been stationed there since the previous night, devoted to every means of nursing care. “It seems the time for our parting has come.” “May you remain in good health, my lord.” “...and to Lord Kanbei as well.” Shigeharu, aware his end was near, addressed those gathered at his bedside. Hideyoshi drew near as if to desperately embrace him,

“Now, when matters in Chūgoku are still unresolved, to part with you feels like losing a lamp in the dark of night.” "I looked up to you as my teacher and relied on you as my right-hand man, yet now you depart before me?" “You’re being cruel, Shigeharu!” “...Shigeharu.”

With that, he wailed—even though many close retainers were in the next room—lamenting without regard for appearances and unable to stop. Hanbei called his brother Takenaka Shigekado and a page, had them quietly help him sit up, faced Hideyoshi, reverently expressed gratitude for a lifetime of benevolence, and then—in his usual tone— “The death of a person is like leaves returning to the earth. Though it may be said that those who depart are without sentiment and those who remain are with it, viewed from the grand perspective of the seasons’ cycle, it is nothing but an utterly ordinary aspect of nature.” “For one who is my lord to now shed such tears of reluctance is unlike your usual self.” “Especially now, when Lord Nobunaga’s grand endeavor is still at its midpoint, your future holds unparalleled prospects.” “This is no time to wallow in complaints.” “…And even after this Shigeharu dies, Lord Yoshitaka Kanbei Kuroda will remain here.” “Lord Yoshitaka, for me, was truly a warrior who recognizes a warrior—a kindred spirit.” “Moreover, your future plans—entrusting them all to one another—will surely proceed without error. …As for what little knowledge this unworthy one has acquired that might prove useful, I have already conveyed nearly all of it to you by now, and I trust it has been thoroughly understood.…”

When he finished speaking, he gazed intently at the night scene outside, “Ah—the moon pale, the wind pure... Truly this world is a beautiful place.” “Now... what manner of moonlit night awaits on the journey ahead?” After murmuring these words, he had them lay him supine once more. Requesting the prayer beads and priestly robe he had prepared in his armor chest during his lifetime, he arranged them beside himself and closed his eyes. For a brief while he remained thus—then slightly opened his eyes to gaze about as though to whisper a final farewell. But by then his pulse had already ceased. Though Kanbei called his name and Hideyoshi called his name, no answer came again.

“It’s regrettable that Matsuchiyo couldn’t make it in time.”

And so, Kanbei repeated only that. As soon as Shigeharu fell critically ill, he immediately dispatched a messenger to Himeji, "Your great benefactor is in critical condition—come immediately to attend to him." and had sent out a party to fetch him.

Matsuchiyo arrived there late that night. He had come galloping on horseback with Morita Tahei and Gotō Uemon among others, but ultimately did not arrive in time before his death. This boy, too, grieved Shigeharu’s death as though he had lost a mentor who had been by his side for ten years.

Indeed, the death of this young yet great strategist could not help but cast a pall of grief over the entire besieging army. "When this man was present," it was said, "he brought gravity to the camp, and all officers and soldiers found peace of mind." Such was Shigeharu, who had been revered by the entire army. His ailing body was so frail it could not bear the weight of heavy armor, yet he had been one of Hideyoshi’s twin pillars alongside Yoshitaka Kanbei Kuroda—a repository of wisdom and stratagems. "Is that so… So he was only thirty-six years old?"

The three armies - down to the lowest-ranking foot soldiers - were said to have mourned his premature death without exception.

3

With the arrival of December, the war situation in the Settsu region took a sudden turn. Needless to say, the overwhelming superiority of the Oda forces had completely eradicated the Araki faction. Back when they were still holding Itami, (We will persuade Murashige to surrender Amagasaki and Hanakuma.) The old retainers of Araki, who had made a pact with the Oda forces and left the castle, could neither remain among their allies nor join the Oda army due to Murashige’s refusal, and ultimately fled to parts unknown. After that, when Itami fell,

(This place too is in peril) Seeing this, Murashige relocated to Amagasaki. And then, as the enemy's pursuit finally closed in, he once again secretly fled the castle, escaped by boat from Hyōgo Beach out to sea, joined the Mōri clan's naval forces, and pleaded for their aid. The people scoffed.

Was this not Murashige, who had trusted in the Mōri's aid and sworn pact to rebel against Nobunaga? Even after Itami, Amagasaki, and Hanakuma—three castles—had been crushed, he still clung to that faithless country that would not even send reinforcements, refusing to awaken to reality as he fled there seeking its protection—Truly, this was the height of wretchedness. But eventually, around December 19th of that year, the people witnessed an even more wretched downfall of a warrior house. That was the disposal of the wives, children, elderly, young, and female servants whom Murashige and his clan had surrendered into the Oda forces' hands.

At Nanatsu Matsu in Amagasaki, Nobunaga had these pitiful souls slaughtered en masse without mercy. Even if they were rebel kin, even if meant as a warning to treacherous warriors, this punishment seemed excessively cruel. Using fire, spears, and guns, they executed over five hundred men and women at crossroads until the people shuddered at Nobunaga's severity. Yet all turned a blind eye to this facet of cruelty within Nobunaga's nature.

However, no one could direct criticism toward Nobunaga. Naturally, they reviled the cowardice of Araki Murashige and his ilk—those men. They spread malicious rumors, saying they weren’t even fit to stand upwind of proper warriors. In stark contrast to those cowardly men and women, a single woman who met her end with remarkable dignity also became the talk of the town. This woman, too, was one of those executed that day at the Nanatsu Matsu crossroads. Even when dragged down from the carriage, she showed no fear, wearing a vibrant kosode over her white burial robe—and when the execution commenced,

“Please wait a moment.” With a voice coolly commanding the surroundings, she adjusted her obi, lifted her hair high at the roots, and with utmost solemnity— “I am ready now, sirs.” With that signal, she met her end with a propriety even men could not surpass—so it was said.

“That’s the woman they call Muro-no-Tsubone—the one who used to serve at Itami Castle.” Though no one could say who started the rumor, shortly after her death a woman appeared with two nuns in tow and took away both the severed head and kosode. “Could she be Muro-no-Tsubone’s sister?” “Perhaps the wife of some samurai household?” People speculated endlessly about this, yet none ever learned the woman’s true identity.

It was much later that it became clear she was the wife of a new recruit under Oda Nobusumi's command named Itami Wataru. And the name of that wife was also heard as Kiku.

4

"My lord. Are you pondering something?" "Kanbei... They say poor plans resemble rest. I was simply staring blankly at that impregnable enemy castle." "Lately, when you sit in silent displeasure at times, your bearing truly seems devoid of vitality." "Do I appear so lacking in vigor?... Something feels amiss." Hideyoshi muttered this, then suddenly shook his head and laughed as if trying to summon back cheerfulness. "What exactly feels amiss, my lord? Which part feels amiss?"

“Well then.” Even now, when my mind grows vacant, the image of Takenaka Hanbei Shigeharu refuses to fade—it troubles me so. “Though it sounds like complaint—‘If only Shigeharu were here’—I mourn this lack of wisdom within me.” “Ah.” “Worldly attachments...” “Truly, I am bound by earthly desires.” “Nay—while you speak thus, my lord—is this not also your rebuke? Chiding this Kanbei for lacking stratagems while expecting swift brilliance?” “Ha ha ha ha.” “No harm in taking it so.”

The two men roared with laughter. In truth, ever since losing Takenaka Hanbei Shigeharu, Hideyoshi had been in a daze for a time. He would often speak of Hanbei’s memory on every occasion, in what some might call an effeminate manner. Moreover, on one occasion, he went so far as to say this: (To have witnessed his death must be a greater sorrow for this Chikuzen than even Shu losing Kongming.) Every time he heard that, Kanbei even felt envious of his dead friend. While moved by Hideyoshi’s deep affection for a loyal vassal, Kanbei also found himself pondering just how profoundly Shigeharu had been trusted.

(For my lord, who had lost one arm and grown despondent, I must now become both arms.) He secretly swore this oath to himself, though it seemed too overzealous a resolve to voice aloud. Even now. What Hideyoshi silently conveyed to him could only be the enemy's ironclad defenses before their eyes. Kanbei—can't you devise some way to breach them already?—this unspoken demand. That impatience—

Kanbei had already discerned the reason for this impatience several days prior.

For, from Nobunaga’s side several days prior— “The entire Settsu region has already been pacified. The Araki faction’s extermination has also been completed. What of Miki Castle in Chūgoku, enduring such a prolonged siege?” This was because he had sent this notice while also inquiring about their local battle conditions. Nobunaga’s impatience naturally became Hideyoshi’s own anxiety. Thus Kuroda Kanbei had long agonized over this matter—racking his brains even in sleep—until finally conceiving a strategy. Since two days prior he had devoted himself to it, and now having grasped its opening thread, he had come here to present it.

"My lord, you must have heard there exists a man called Gotō Shōgen Motokuni within Miki Castle of the enemy."

“Gotō Motokuni is a senior retainer of Commander Bessho Kosaburō—but what of it?” “He came last night.” “Where?” “To my encampment.” “Having slipped out from within the castle—” “What? Are you saying Gotō has come to surrender?” “By no means.” “He is no coward like Araki’s ilk.” “Then why did he come?” “In truth, Komori Yozoemon—an acquaintance of mine—serves as second-in-command under Gotō Shōgen. I sent a message arrow to request a meeting and, guided by him, secretly met with Gotō as well. Through these efforts, late last night he had his eight-year-old child brought by a retainer to visit me.”

“Carrying a child?”

“Yes.” “He is Motokuni’s only child.” “Having entrusted him to me—his enemy—he returned inside the castle once more.” “My lord…” “Miki Castle will fall within two or three days at most!” “Is that true?” “Why would I deceive you?”

“How can you be so sure?” “Within the castle walls, there remains no edible grass nor tree bark—they have devoured even the horse carcasses and every last rat.” “The provisions dried up months ago, yet their fighting spirit burns undiminished.” “Should they charge forth with that death-bound fervor, even if we take the castle, our casualties would be no trifling matter.” “…Have you accounted for this in your scheme?” “We cannot endure such desperate spearheads.” “Thus we must evade them—this has been the crux of my deliberations.”

“Then your considerations are none other than my own. What will you do?” “Tonight, I will enter the castle myself and meet with Commander Bessho Kosaburō and his clan members to thoroughly persuade them. First, I will clearly explain the logic of gain and loss—how even Araki has fallen, and how even he was abandoned and left to die by the Mōri—and convince them to submit.” “Well... An enemy that’s held out for two full years—do you think mere words will suffice?”

“Is there some point that makes you uneasy?” “There certainly is.” “What point?”

“I only hope that a wise man does not become so ensnared by his own cleverness that we end up repeating the debacle at Itami Castle.”

“Ha ha ha. That is something I have learned more bitterly than anyone else. This time, there is no need for concern—for Senior Retainers Gotō Shōgen and Komori Yozoemon have already reached an agreement with me, and they hope to save all the castle’s soldiers by sacrificing only a small number.”

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 injury to his leg had still not healed, so when walking, he walked with a severe limp. (This would become a chronic disability that plagued him for life)—and so he had Kuriyama Zensuke construct a lightweight battle palanquin that could be nimbly ridden. On that day, he rode it to serve as an envoy into enemy territory. His battle palanquin was something that incorporated many of his own innovations. Conventional koshi palanquins were too heavy, lacking the swiftness needed for quick advances and retreats. Moreover, the recently employed kago could not function when encountering the enemy. Therefore, he devised a new-style battle palanquin that combined elements of both.

Its materials consisted almost entirely of bamboo. This was to reduce its weight. The upper roof covering was removed, with only the boat-shaped seat made deeper, allowing one to sit fully within it. And have it carried aloft like a sacred palanquin. Two carrying poles were inserted, with two men at the front pole and four at the rear pole, making a total of six men to carry it. With this arrangement, even the bearers could advance and retreat with ease, and Kanbei—while remaining seated inside—could wield both long-handled weapons and swords. The primary focus was that even if one charged into the midst of a chaotic battle, they could freely engage with the enemy.

“How about it, Tahei?” “Tahei.” En route, swaying atop it, Kanbei looked back at Morita and Kuriyama following behind. “Throughout history, has there ever been a military commander who used such a vehicle on the battlefield?” “They will likely consider me the first.” “Indeed. I doubt there has ever been such a case.” “During the Tenkei Rebellion of old, when troops found themselves unable to withstand Masakado’s ferocity, they carried a wooden statue of his uncle on a palanquin to the front lines and threatened to shoot the uncle to intimidate Masakado, thereby routing his forces—or so I’ve heard.”

“Since Kanbei is alive, a wooden statue can’t serve as precedent.” “I’ve heard that Zhuge Liang—who wore a silk headscarf and wielded a feather fan while commanding three armies—rode a four-wheeled chariot across battlefields...” “Kongming, I see. However, compared to Kongming’s four-wheeled chariot, this suits our country’s warriors better. I’d like to charge through chaotic battle ranks once.” “Could that happen even today?” “No—no. Not today. This is Kanbei—the one who learned his lesson at Itami. I’ll never employ such clumsy stratagems again.”

Even before confronting Miki Castle, he spoke with a tone that suggested full confidence in fulfilling his mission. The purpose of this mission was unequivocally to have those responsible for maintaining the siege commit seppuku and thereby save thousands of lives throughout the entire castle that now teetered on starvation's brink.

That night, Kuroda Kanbei met with Bessho Kosaburō, lord of Miki Castle. The room in the castle keep was illuminated only by moonlight, with no lamps whatsoever. Kosaburō, lord of the castle and still a young commander of twenty-six years old at this time, spoke frankly to Kanbei. “As you can see, we have no lamps here because we’ve consumed all the lamp oil.” “Not even the sound of rats can be heard within the castle.” “Because the rats have all been eaten.”

After reminiscing about various matters, Kosaburō resolutely made his pledge. “Originally, under Lord Chikuzen’s governance, we swore allegiance to the Oda clan only to defect again to the Mori faction and hole up here for two full years. Given this, it is only natural that I and those bearing responsibility should commit seppuku.” “However, if soldiers and officers outside our clan are subjected to the humiliation of being treated as captives, they too would find no reason to live, and our seppuku would lose all meaning.” “If you not only spare the lives of those in the castle but also handle these matters with the compassion and courtesy befitting warriors, then I shall submit to your terms.”

“Lord Chikuzen is indeed magnanimous in such considerations, but I, Kanbei, shall personally ensure proper arrangements are made.”

After that, Kanbei met with other clan members and senior retainers. Since Gotō Motokuni and Komori Yozoemon—who had already reached a mutual understanding through prior discussions—were among them, the talks proceeded with exceptional smoothness. Yet that subsequent meetings were held three or four more times after that day was—given how both enemies and allies had endured two long years of repeated clashes and unspeakable hardships throughout their conflict—a negotiation process that could almost be deemed natural in its conclusion.

Two

The resolution spilled over into the new year. And thus was finally decided that Lord Bessho Kosaburō and those under him would commit seppuku and open the castle gates on January seventeenth. The day before this settlement, Hideyoshi donated three barrel-loads of sake along with abundant provisions into the fortress. Kosaburō expressed gratitude through a messenger at dawn: "Last night through your gracious beneficence we assembled wives and children along with brothers and senior retainers—nay even their womenfolk—within one hall to share fond recollections of mortal existence while announcing impending farewells until our hearts were sated with valedictory communion." "Today at the Hour of the Monkey I shall fulfill our sworn pact through ritual disembowelment alongside my subordinates—we earnestly entreat your august witness."

An inspection party from Hideyoshi’s side arrived. The castle interior had been cleaned by many hands until not a speck of dust remained. As the hour approached, Lord Kosaburō dressed his young wife and even their nursing infant in death robes, then gathered with his brother Hikono-suke and the rest of the clan in the great hall, which they had designated as their place of death. However, Bessho Yoshiai—one among them and the instigator who had brought about Miki Castle’s fate—had vanished without a trace.

“I do not see Uncle here.” Kosaburō and those destined to die waited anxiously, but Yoshiai never returned, having left for reasons unknown. He was both the one who had persuaded them, compelled their rebellion against the Oda forces, forged ties with the Mori, and led them to today’s ruin—as well as the uncle who held the greatest authority within the clan. No matter how much he tried to doubt it, Kosaburō could not fathom such a cowardly act occurring at this critical juncture.

But, unfortunately, the very thing they had thought unthinkable had come to pass. Before long, a frenzied group of retainers came clattering into the hall. They knelt in the grand corridor, tears streaming down their faces, placed the freshly severed head of Yoshiai before them, and offered their apologies to Kosaburō on behalf of all present. “Since this morning, we observed Lord Yoshiai’s inexplicable behavior and suspected he sought some means to save himself—indeed, he had set fire beneath the tower.” “Overcome by his unspeakable cowardice, we have thus taken his head with our own hands. To atone for this, all of us shall here commit seppuku and accompany you in death. We humbly beg your forgiveness.”

Some were sobbing and choking back tears, while others loosened their collars and prepared to commit seppuku. “Wait!” “I will not permit a single one of you to die as you please.”

Kosaburō rebuked and restrained them. “Consider why today the Kosaburō clan gladly commits seppuku—think on it.” “Amplify that joy, even if only slightly, for my sake.” “Uncle’s conduct has regrettably splashed mud upon the Bessho name. Should Heaven witness this, Heaven would punish; should Earth know it, Earth would rage.” “Though done by your hands, this act stands in my stead.” “Call it transgression or sin—it matters not.”

Kosaburō stood up as he spoke, walked out to the wide veranda, and bowed quietly toward the retainers prostrating across the garden grounds, their faces pressed to the earth in grief over their parting. “For two years, all of you who endured this siege have performed deeds unprecedented in history.” “Even fighting by eating plant roots and wild rats, licking the bones of dead horses—this now feels nostalgic and can rightly be called the pride of warriors.” “As this castle’s commander, forgive this Kosaburō’s incompetence in departing without ever repaying your noble resolve.” “After we perish, let all samurai support one another. Each must seek your futures, and never leave behind disgrace like Uncle Yoshiai’s... Take our fate today as a lesson—never abandon the loyalty you once swore.” “Do not misjudge the course of the times.” “My downfall stems from my youth and lack of foresight.” “Let Kosaburō serve as your example!”

No sooner had he finished speaking and returned to his seat than he immediately took up his short sword and cleanly cut his belly.

His wife, her child, and his younger brother Hikono-suke also fell one after another into the crimson. Miyake Hizen of the clan, senior retainers Gotō Shōgen Motokuni and Komori Yozoemon, and others all perished as well. Now I bear no resentment—for when I consider my life given in exchange for all others’... This was Kosaburō Nagaharu’s death poem. Moreover, in a poem composed and left behind by his still-young wife, To vanish together—this is my joy—in a world where some must lead and others follow. In such times, examples where women’s resolve surpasses that of men are not uncommon. Bessho Yoshiai’s wife was one who demonstrated such resolve at this time. She learned of her husband’s ignoble death yet remained composed. After witnessing the deaths of Kosaburō and his wife, she gathered her three young children—a boy and two girls—to her lap, covered their eyes, and with a mother’s hand drew the blade across their throats. Then she turned the dagger upon herself. And beside that, on the tanzaku she had left written,

I shall not lose my way on the path of the afterlife—with my beloved children joined to me, we journey toward the sky’s end.

III

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 first crushed Araki and now reaped this victory’s fruits, Azuchi roared with triumph. The Nobunaga Chronicles records the situation thus: "The three Bessho heads were presented at Azuchi; all former enemies fell to his will, his prestige beyond reckoning. Moreover, that Lord Chikuzen—through personal resolve—thus vanquished a great foe surpasses all measure, whether through martial valor, stratagems, or bow-and-arrow’s honor."

However, the public eye did not necessarily view Nobunaga’s handling of Araki Murashige and Hideyoshi’s conclusion at Miki Castle in the same light. “After Lord Nobunaga himself crushed and conquered a place,” they observed with hushed awe.

That said, Hideyoshi’s status was still far lower compared to generals such as Shibata, Niwa, and Takigawa. However, since achieving this military success, “Lord Chikuzen is indeed a remarkable man.” It was certain that even those senior retainers had somewhat revised their conventional views of him. At the very least, it was clear that those who had derisively called him “Monkey” were gradually diminishing in number, shamed by their own actions.

“I wanted to show this to Hanbei Shigeharu.”

On the day he entered Miki Castle and inspected its various corners, Hideyoshi was profoundly moved.

Kanbei was recalling it too. In his heart, he remembered the deceased and reported the day’s events to his spirit. “Indeed, this stronghold was not easily taken.” “It might be good to establish this place as my stronghold and undertake the conquest of Chūgoku from here.”

“No, that will not do.”

“Is that not acceptable?” “That is precisely why, my lord.” “As a defensive position, it could be called an unparalleled stronghold.” “However—its inconvenient transportation routes, the confined nature of these four mountains—this would not serve as land for governance.”

“That’s reasonable,” Hideyoshi conceded. “In that case, this place isn’t fit for my residence.” “Himeji alone possesses all the qualities required to serve as your castle, my lord.” “But your family resides there, do they not?” “Have you forgotten, my lord? When I first presented myself at Gifu, I vowed before Lord Nobunaga that Himeji would be pledged for the Chūgoku campaign whenever needed.” “You’d truly give it?” Hideyoshi’s eyes narrowed. “Himeji...”

“The convenience of sea routes is excellent—backed by Mount Shosha and Mount Zui to the rear—and with the rivers in the castle town and thoroughfare of the highways, there is nothing lacking, my lord.”

“Kanbei.” “Boasting about your province now, are we?” “Ah, what this one takes pride in is something else entirely.”

“What? That is—” “A strict father. A good wife. Loyal retainers. These are unified as one in our household’s ethos. Even if we move our residence, the household’s ethos will not disappear. As for housing my father Sōen, wife, and children, if we could simply be granted a small compound elsewhere, that would suffice.” “I’ll take it—then immediately, you return to Himeji and start constructing new baileys.” “Until then, will you be staying here?” “Once the rough walls are plastered, we’ll move from here to Himeji immediately. It should be done by the third month of spring.” Chikuzen was short-tempered. “Hurry it up, will you?”

“Then I shall depart at once.”

A few days later, Kanbei departed for Himeji. Accompanied by over ten retainers, he carried both relay horses for the journey and that battle palanquin he was known for.

It was his first time returning home in a long while. Matsuchiyo had been sent home earlier, but for him, this was his first return to his own household since the Itami ordeal.

Whether on horseback or atop the battle palanquin, he held a single orphan before his knees. The boy turned nine this year.

Last year, before Miki Castle fell, Gotō Shōgen Motokuni—an elder retainer of the Bessho clan—had secretly approached him one night: (There is no one but you to whom I can entrust this child’s future. When Miki Castle falls, I who must perish with the fortress cannot bear to take this innocent boy to the afterlife—though my worldly attachments may invite derision, I beg you place him among your retainers and raise him to manhood.) This was the child entrusted by the enemy commander.

“Matabō, what are you staring blankly at? Are you lonely?” “Nuh-uh.” The boy shook his head. “It’s nothing.” His reply came curt. Yet to Kanbei’s adult eyes, this child—so unusually quiet for his age—could not help but appear lonely through those unblinking eyes. “Consider me your father. Motokuni—before he died—entrusted me to take his place as your sire. Do you think of me as your father now?” “Nuh-uh.” Matabō shook his head.

“You don’t think of me that way?”

“Yes,” he nodded, squirming uncomfortably. Being on Kanbei’s lap must have been cramped. “Once you get to Himeji, there will be people who can be your friends.”

He would say things like that, but Matabō did not enjoy it. Finally realizing his feelings, Kanbei now entrusted him to Morita Tahei and Kuriyama Zensuke’s group, adding him to the procession and letting him walk freely—whereupon he suddenly grew spirited, beginning to frolic with such vigor it was hard to recognize him and play pranks on horses’ tails.

“Hahaha.” “Children really can’t be raised in a battle palanquin, can they?”

Kanbei also found himself in a brighter mood. That this lone orphan, raised within the Kuroda household’s ethos, would grow into a man later known to the world as Gotō Matabē Mototsugu—at this time, not even a hint of that future could be seen in anyone’s eyes.

One zori sandal・One geta clog

I They had known in advance of his return—his wife, his children, and his retainers all lined up at the Himeyama gate, waiting for him.

Kanbei’s procession approached. From the moment his face came into view, the children beamed, his wife greeted him with tears, and the faces of his retainers were alight with deep emotion. “I’m home! Did you all come to welcome me—” Stopping his horse, Kanbei called out in his usual cheerful voice to the assembled group from horseback, then—awkwardly planting one foot in the stirrup—landed lightly on the ground. “Oh! And your other leg?” The retainers’ eyes widened in shock. The majority of those who had stayed behind still did not know he had become so disabled.

To his wife—who had once resigned herself so deeply to the idea that all she would ever receive were locks of his hair and fingernails—even the sight of her husband limping along with a halting gait, his left shoulder heavily drooping, could only appear as a miracle of survival. “Matsuchiyo.” “Matsuchiyo. Go to his side and take your father’s hand instead of his cane, please.” His wife, entrusting her own desire to approach to her child, urged him.

Matsuchiyo ran up. "Father." "Take my hand."

Then Kanbei laughed heartily and looked around at the child, his wife, and those nearby. “It’s fine, it’s fine. It’s not that bad. Even as I am now, I intend to charge through armies for decades to come—having my child lead me by the hand from now on would hardly do. If I walk unsteadily like this, it might look awkward, but it’s nothing worth those nearby paying attention to. It’s easier to walk if I lower one shoulder like this—I’ve abandoned appearances, so there’s no need for concern.”

Then he turned to the group of attendants behind him,

“Where’s Matabō? Matabō, aren’t you here?” he beckoned with a wave of his hand. “Yes!”—Urged by those around him, Matabō answered and nimbly came over.

Kanbei placed one hand on Matabō’s head and another on Matsuchiyo’s head before addressing his wife: “This boy belongs to an enemy commander I recovered during our campaign at Miki.” “Though his sire opposed us，he bears no taint of cowardice.” “Noble blood flows through him.” “With time，he shall grow into worthy service.” “Let him stand as Matsuchiyo’s companion—perhaps overly indulgent for friendship’s sake，but see him properly raised.”

And then, as soon as he entered the mansion, “And Father?” he inquired about his elderly father’s condition, and upon hearing that although he had been bedridden with a slight ailment until yesterday, today he had risen from bed and been waiting since morning,

“I see, I see.” Without even removing his travel attire, Kuroda Kanbei abruptly hurried off toward the main keep where his elderly father Sōen was.

II

The major renovation of Himeji Castle commenced in early February, mere days after Kanbei’s return. From Hideyoshi’s side came Asano Yahyōe as magistrate. He also dispatched numerous laborers to assist. Originally built by Kuroda Sōen as a residence, Himeyama Castle had later served merely as a clan fortress where local allies gathered as their fortunes rose. By contemporary standards of military architecture, it held so little value that full reconstruction—not mere renovation—was deemed necessary.

And so, the old mansion was completely demolished. The lines of new stone walls rose high and beautiful, while the chisel strikes and hatchet blows at the castle keep's construction site proclaimed—from skyscraping log scaffolds—the dawn of a new era to this province. Yet construction remained construction, and warfare remained warfare—even amidst this, the Chūgoku campaign centered on Hideyoshi never ceased for an instant. In February, Kuroda Kanbei coordinated with Hashiba Hideyoshi and was dispatched to Kojima district. There he met Ukita Naoie of Okayama; together they plotted strategy, had multiple fortresses built along the Mōri border to secure the frontier, then returned after persuading the Takabatake clan—a regional power in Kojima—to ally with them.

Upon returning, he inspected the construction; then went out again to join Hideyoshi’s forces—attacking Miki Michiaki of Hime Castle, defeating Uno Masayori at Nagamizu Mountain, and subjugating Uno Sukekiyo of Yamazaki Castle.

In June, these mopping-up operations came to a temporary halt for the first time. The two provinces of Harima and Tajima were brought under complete control.

Himeji Castle was also nearly completed. Hideyoshi left his younger brother Hashiba Hidenaga at Miki Castle, relocated the entire remaining army, and thereafter established Himeji’s new castle as their base. Kanbei’s father Sōen, the pioneer of this mountain, seemed to feel an intense nostalgia as he looked back. He had remained in one building of the old mansion until the very end, but as Hideyoshi was finally set to relocate, he moved to Gochaku Castle together with Kanbei’s wife, children, and relatives.

Since that spring, Gochaku Castle had stood vacant. This was because Kodera Masataka—who along with other elders had resided there since the Akamatsu clan era as part of the Kuroda family's main lineage—despite Kanbei's... *(Such is how the era transforms!)* ...despite all Kanbei's loyal admonitions and personal sacrifices striving to prevent his lord's house from straying into error, had sold him out to Araki Murashige. Colluding with Murashige, they shifted allegiances once more, rebelled against Nobunaga, and thereby exposed their faction's every reckless act and disgraceful spectacle to the world.

However, in the blink of an eye, Murashige was destroyed, the relied-upon Miki Castle fell, and just as they were suddenly becoming aware of the crisis at their feet—

(Kanbei had returned to Himeyama) When this news spread, Kodera Masataka—who had never possessed any real power or conviction—along with his elderly retainers who had barely survived through deceit and opportunistic posturing until then, were seized with terror. Abandoning both their lord and principles, they fled Gochaku Castle overnight, scattering to whatever refuges they could find. “Though it pains me to occupy the castle of our former lord’s scattered house…” Sōen had shown reluctance, but after being persuaded by Kanbei’s assurance—“Endure this a while longer”—he moved there with no other choice.

Early July. Hideyoshi, without even a moment to relax in the new castle, immediately advanced his army and shifted the battlefront to the borders of Inaba and Hōki provinces. Hideyoshi's days and nights remained thoroughly proactive. Hideyoshi's unceasing activity and intellect kept advancing ahead of their time.

By the time Hideyoshi returned to Himeji after concluding matters in this region, it was already September. Sitting in the entirely new castle with its scent of timber and fresh paint, Hideyoshi said for the first time: “Where have you settled your father, wife, and children now?” “As we were granted Gochaku, I had them move to Gochaku.”

“Ah, that’s right.” “I hear Gochaku is an old castle—a rather cramped small one.” “A pity they had to leave such fine land.”

Hideyoshi awarded Kanbei a letter of commendation accompanied by an inventory. This was something Hideyoshi had requested and sought approval for from Nobunaga. A territory of ten thousand koku in Harima Province is granted.

...was Nobunaga’s written decree. The inventory specified the land allotment within Fukui, Iwami, and Ise Village in Ibo District—

“I am deeply honored.” It was not modesty. It was true joy. He had joined the ranks of daimyō for the first time. He had served the Kodera family since age sixteen, beginning with a stipend of forty koku. Even after passing twenty and serving as a rare young chief retainer, his income never surpassed several hundred koku. Looking back over twenty-one years since then—the hardships endured through bitter trials, struggles beyond life and death—defied all description. That all four limbs remained intact seemed nothing short of miraculous. Warriors of this age may all meet storms and be seen by posterity as fortunate children who rose to prominence, yet even then, the path from life’s struggles to becoming a daimyō remained arduous. Still, Kanbei felt genuine joy. Doubtless he took that letter of commendation and inventory and rushed to Gochaku where his elderly father resided. Though already past thirty—a brilliant strategist feared as a demon general on battlefields—at home he remained a child blessed with 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 traveling on an unusually private trip.

Was it an inspection of internal governance, or a reconnaissance of enemy conditions? That did not seem to be all. He repeatedly inquired—

“Where is my former lord, Lord Kodera Masataka, now residing?” He traced every connection through his network and searched across provinces. After their dispersal from Gochaku, he had only been able to confirm that Kodera Masataka had fled to Bingo Province as an exile. Yet the human kindness encountered in each place he drifted through differed from what Masataka had expected from those he once relied on. Eventually, even the few remaining attendants abandoned him, and it became known that he had fallen ill at Tomo-no-tsu and soon died there.

“Even so, Lord Ujishiki and his wife must still be alive somewhere.” Kanbei returned once to obtain Hideyoshi’s approval and personally journeyed to Tomo-no-tsu. Yet even when he reached Tomo-no-tsu, their whereabouts proved difficult to ascertain. For though they might have fallen into ruin, he had assumed that as former lords of a castle, they would still keep three or four young retainers and servants. But when he finally visited the dwelling he had managed to locate, he found Ujishiki—now utterly transformed—engaged in piecework within a wretched back-alley tenement, while Masataka’s wife carried Ujishiki’s child on her back and washed the infant’s swaddling clothes herself.

“Kanbei… We have no face to show before your mercy.” “We have no face to show before your mercy.” Both Ujishiki and Masataka’s wife, upon encountering his sudden visit, apologized as though they wanted to crawl into a hole and wept. Kanbei, too, was truly overcome with gloom. And he was astonished at society’s unforgiving nature—how once someone took a single misstep, both their personal standing and family’s form could plummet so abruptly. “In any case, please return to your domain with me.” “Never ever will you need to worry about any harm befalling you.”

Kuroda Kanbei ordered his retainers to prepare everything and, taking with him the former lord’s wife, surviving child, and even the grandchild, returned to Gochaku. And through Hideyoshi, he appealed to Nobunaga: “I humbly beseech you to set aside your wrath and grant your gracious permission for the Kodera family’s succession to be inherited by their surviving heir.” He repeatedly petitioned, but Nobunaga would not grant it. Hideyoshi, too, showed little enthusiasm for this particular matter. For they were then crushing local warlords—both great and small—throughout the land. Above all, Kodera Masataka’s act of betrayal had been deemed too malicious, and permitting the restoration of his house name was considered politically inadvisable.

However, Kanbei, who still remembered past favors, did not abandon Ujishiki and the others. He allocated a portion of his own fief to provide them stipends, and henceforth treated them as honored guests of the Kuroda family without diminishing their status, supporting their descendants through generations—a practice that continued not only through Kanbei’s lifetime but until the Meiji Restoration. In that year, he was granted an additional ten thousand koku and also given Yamazaki Castle. Kanbei promptly had his elderly father Sōen reside there. Sōen also rejoiced, saying that for the first time, he felt he had obtained a home for his remaining years.

At the same time, to commemorate this occasion, he newly established military standards and decorative streamers symbolizing the Kuroda family. On the emblems of their military standards, Eiraku Tsuho coins were outlined in white against a black background. Moreover, the traditional family crest had been Tachibana, but this too was changed to Fuji-domoe. On the day when the military standard consecration ceremony was conducted before the shrine in Yamazaki Castle, Hideyoshi made a special effort to attend, “Splendid, splendid! Kanbei is still in his prime, and Hideyoshi is also in his prime. Before long, it will be a sight to behold throughout Kanbei’s lifetime—how these military standards will advance through enemy after enemy, parting them one after another.”

After delivering this congratulatory address, during the subsequent banquet, "They say family crests are rarely changed—why did you alter yours to the Fuji-domoe?"

he asked quizzically.

Then, Kuroda Kanbei set down his cup and, for the first time that night, recounted to Hideyoshi his year-long hardships in Itami Castle—or so the accounts say. And reflecting on retainers present like Morita Tahei and Kuriyama Zensuke, he continued: “To never forget the loyalty of these individuals, and because there’s a saying that ‘once danger passes the throat, its heat is forgotten,’ I resolved that whenever arrogance stirs in my heart, I would recall Itami’s prison window. For those wisteria blossoms I daily gazed upon and etched into my spirit—they were, if I may say so, both my lifelong teacher and our family’s auspicious symbol.”

he is said to have replied.

Let us once again count his age here on our fingers. At that time, in Tenshō 9, he was thirty-six years old.