Pathway to Japanese Literature

The Red Transverse Flute

On the peaks of Koma, Ashidaka, and Otome in the Hakone Mountains, the ridges of snow still streaked white.
The wind, sharpened by mountain gusts blowing down from there, carried a needle-like coldness that felt nothing like spring.
Yet in the sheltered slopes embracing the warm currents of the Izu Sea and atop the earthen walls of Samurai Alley, citrus fruits ripened to deep gold—proof that this land, compared to the Kōzuke plain battered by Akagi and Haruna’s fierce winds, enjoyed far kinder climes. Ishida Daishichi found himself unable to resist measuring everything against his homeland’s harshness.

Looking at the fields, while in Kōzuke the winter weeds had yet to be cleared, here in Sōshū the wheat already stood three inches tall. Even the rustic dwellings appeared prosperous when glimpsed, and the very bearing of passersby spoke clearly of cultural refinement—here, the urban character was far more pronounced than in Kōzuke.

"As expected of Kantō's hegemonic capital, tempered through three generations since Hōjō Sōun—"

Ishida Daishichi was impressed—but no sooner had this thought come than—
“However, when it comes to military strength, it is not that the Hojo are formidable—it is merely that their natural bounty and geographical advantages are.”
And deep down, he ended up underestimating them.

When crossing the Sakawa River, even the wind through the rows of trees assailed travelers with the stern order of three generations of the Hojo clan—swift and dignified.

This Odawara castle town was now the foremost metropolis along the highway—surpassing even the eight provinces.
At sea, Chinese ships stood with their masts aligned; in the streets, shops selling imported goods and merchants hawking weapons lined the eaves; in the back alleys, craftsmen who had migrated from Kyoto and Sakai dyed thread, forged arrowheads, fired pottery—prosperous smoke wafted through the air.

“Their culture may be advanced—but in exchange, the people have grown soft!”

With this thought, Ishida Daishichi briskly quickened his pace toward the castle town while growing ever more dismissive of the Hojo.

The Sakawa Gate subjected travelers to rigorous inspections, yet none discerned him as an enemy spy—a ninja from rival lands.

But when they saw his figure, the snot-nosed urchins, scabby-headed brats, and mischief-makers of the town—

“Hey, daydreaming candy seller!”

“Mute?”

“Forgotten your song?”

“The doll on your chest’s yawning!”

They trailed after him in a rowdy bunch and jeered.

Daishichi jolted.

"Is this the stronghold of Hojo Ujiyasu and Ujimasa?" he wondered, his eyes unwittingly drawn to every detail as he walked absentmindedly. But when he came to his senses, there he stood—a candy seller with an Awaji puppet perched atop his confection box and hung around his neck.
If that candy seller walked about silent with only his eyes gleaming, then indeed, he would be thought mute.

“Kids are terrifying.”

Muttering to himself, Daishichi took up the red transverse flute and began playing a lively tune at the crossroads of the castle town.

“Come on, gather round.”
“To kids who buy candy, I’ll show you an Awaji puppet’s Kamigata dance!”
“To those who don’t buy candy, I won’t say I won’t show it—but be polite and stand at the back.”
“First up is the spear dance! The spear dance!”

Two faces.

“Hagino... Come here.”

“What is it, My Lady?”

Hagino, having been called by Yakumo, set aside her sewing in the maids’ quarters and rose. Crimson thread scraps trailed after her hem.

It was the residence on Nishikikōji Avenue. It was the window of an old samurai-style residence where a retainer receiving over a thousand koku in stipend resided. Both front and rear gates of this perpetually sealed house—devoid of any signs of habitation—remained tightly shut; yet now, uncharacteristically stirred by such voices, two beautiful faces appeared side by side at the sturdy adze-carved lattice window.

The noble-eyed beauty of about twenty or twenty-one—perhaps twenty-two—was the unforgettable legacy of Tōgō Gorōzaemon Naohiro, who had charged into the Kōshū forces and perished in the Battle of Nobidome in Bushū two autumns prior. Now motherless and utterly alone, Yakumo remained sequestered within this vast mansion.

Hagino was her chambermaid, her loyal servant, and also her sole guardian who never left her side for even a moment.
Needless to say, even so, Hagino was a woman.
And her age wasn’t so different—perhaps a year or two older at most.
She was fair-skinned with deep dimples; when she smiled, a slightly decayed incisor would peek out from between her lips.

“My Lady. How unusual for you to deign to look outside—what has caught your heart’s attention?”

“Can’t you hear it?”

“What do you mean?”

“That flute’s sound—”

“It must be a candy seller.”

“No.”

Yakumo shook her head.

Hagino fleetingly revealed her black incisor from the edge of her lips as she smiled,

“Then what kind of flute do you say it is?”

“To hear that as just any flute—there must be something wrong with your ears. That is the Hototogisu flute.”

“What?”

Hagino inclined her ear,

“How do you know that?”

“How could I ever forget the sound of a flute that these lips have once pressed against its mouthpiece? Moreover, it’s a famous flute of which there are few in the world...”

“Now that you mention it, even though it seems like he’s just playing to gather children, there’s something different about the lingering notes.”

“There is no mistake in my hearing.”

With confidence, Yakumo said.

The Hototogisu flute was an item her father had acquired just once—a rare occurrence—two years prior, when he was still in robust health and the regional conflicts had temporarily subsided, during their pilgrimage to Kiyomizu after journeying to the capital.

It had been lying covered in dust at an old antique shop beneath Yasaka. Her father, being a man versed in courtly dance and music, immediately—

(This is—)

—recognized its value and acquired it. The flute was lacquered crimson with Ryukyu vermilion, its surface bearing the inscription "Hototogisu" in delicate characters that resembled golden wire inlay.

(This must have been treasured by a young warrior of noble lineage or a courtier from an illustrious family.)

Her father had remarked.

At an inn near the Kamo River's banks, he instructed her to play it. Yakumo obliged with fervor—her maid Hagino would have heard the performance from where she stood nearby.

The Crimson Bond in an Age of Chaos

And then—

That renowned flute became the bond through which they became acquainted with a warrior from Echigo lodging at the same inn. In status, that warrior stood equal—if not superior—in standing. They were indeed father and son of no mean station.

“I am Nagafusa Annaka, Echizen-no-kami, retainer to Uesugi Danjōshōhitsu Kenshin of Kasugayama. This here is my son Saburōshin.”

And thus did the father and son introduce themselves.

The Annaka father and son also spoke of having completed their official business for the Kikutei Udaijin family—a task to which they had been dispatched by Lord Kenshin—and explained they were now spending several days sightseeing in the capital. Such is fate. Over the next seven days, as these fathers and their children toured famous sites within and beyond the city walls, Tōgō Gorōzaemon of the Hojo clan and Annaka Echizen of the Uesugi clan found their spirits growing perfectly aligned—so much so that one thought emerged unbidden: (Would you grant your daughter to my son?)

(If the principals themselves consent—)

The discussion reached such terms that they would return to their respective domains, obtain permission from both their lords, then set a new date and exchange betrothal gifts.

And when they asked Saburō,

(By all means)

And when they ascertained Yakumo’s feelings, she too—

(As Father wishes.)

Such was her answer.
Of course, it was not a bad thing.
Both fathers had fully grasped what manner of feelings had flowed between their young son and daughter over these past few days, so

(Of course…)

And so, they exchanged a gentle smile that seemed to anticipate the joys of their old age.

But that was not all.

As their parting drew near, finding mere verbal promises insufficient, Saburōshin—

(I would like to receive some token from your esteemed daughter.)

Showing the firmness of his will, he expressed this wish,

“Your words are most reasonable. However, given our current circumstances as travelers with little to offer—and considering it was my daughter’s flute-playing that forged this bond—I would ask you to take this single pipe inscribed ‘Hototogisu,’ acquired during our travels, as a token of our vow.”

To Tōgō Gorōzaemon’s words,

(That is the finest token I could ask for.)

Saburō rejoiced and carried it home.
In the letters that later reached her,

"Each time my lips touch this flute that once knew yours, its sound quivers—and my very being quivers with longing."

such words were sometimes written.

Needless to say, Yakumo’s yearning mirrored his.
No—perhaps precisely because a woman’s heart hides its depths, her passion burned fiercer still, like banked embers.

However, that vow was never fulfilled.

The reason was—

First and foremost, Hojo Ujimasa did not permit it. Not long thereafter, skirmishes arose between Echigo’s Uesugi clan and others at Kōzuke Province’s border, while Takeda Shingen of Kai—having long kept his war drums silent—now sounded them once more,

(For my nephew Ujimasa’s sake)

and under this pretext for mobilization, severed Uesugi’s retreat routes through Numata, Azuma, and Usui Passes, where fierce battles raged repeatedly.

Takeda Shingen of Kai stood as maternal uncle to Odawara’s Hojo Ujimasa. Since first clashing with Uesugi Kenshin of Echigo in Tenbun 16’s winter (1547), this uncle had alternated between invading and being invaded across their territories—multiple times deploying forces from both sides to Kawanakajima seeking decisive victory, just as often parting ways after failed peace talks—thus remaining fated adversaries perpetually locked in stalemate with Echigo.

For the Hojo clan, as the proverb “A rich man does not pick fights” goes, they wished to avoid confrontation with the peerless Echigo forces so long as their territory remained unviolated—and all the more so, they had no desire to clash with their uncle Shingen’s formidable Kai army.

However, for the Uesugi forces, it was only natural that they would extend their dominion across the perilous Mikuni Pass from Kōzuke Province toward the seas of Sagami and Musashi. Yet whenever they sought to realize this ambition, it was Takeda Shingen who would thrust his spear sideways, deeming their success an obstacle to his own grand aspirations.

The Hojo clan’s territory had thus been encroached upon multiple times by Echigo forces, only for the Takeda forces to reclaim it each instance. Yet year after year, the Uesugi forces of Echigo expanded their reach from Kōzuke Province to Musashi, castle by castle, until in recent years both the Hojo and Takeda forces could only stand by with folded arms, watching this wildfire-like invasion sweep across the Mikuni Mountain Range from Echigo.

However, Shingen was not one to watch in silence indefinitely.
He was biding his time.

Again, battles broke out in scattered regions.

When battles broke out,

(Attack from the west somewhere.
Strike from the east somewhere.)

From his uncle in Kai Province came incessant demands for troop reinforcements to his nephew Ujimasa.

Uesugi Kenshin, who stood as an enemy to Kai, thereby became an enemy to the Hojo clan as well.
As signs emerged that the temporary peace of this tripartite stalemate would soon shatter, their lord Hojo Ujimasa had disregarded the marital alliance between Tōgō Gorōzaemon’s daughter and a Uesugi retainer,

“It shall not be.”

It was only natural that he had dismissed it.

Within less than a year after submitting the petition to his lord, Tōgō Gorōzaemon met his end in battle on Musashi’s plains while serving in the Kōsō Allied Forces’ camp.

Since then, the wars among the three provinces of Kai, Echigo, and Sagami had not ceased.

Year before last—last year—this year...

For the Tōgō family after Gorōzaemon’s death, there had been no word whatsoever; naturally Yakumo’s marriage registration had met the fate of being consigned from darkness to eternal darkness.

Relatives, toward her,

(Since His Lordship has likely forgotten that application by now, perhaps you should adopt a son from a fellow clansman as your husband to inherit the Tōgō family name and submit a petition to restore the household...)

There were those who devised plans, but Yakumo—

"But I have a husband to whom I once pledged myself,"

she refused flatly for days.

(But I already have a husband to whom I pledged myself.)

For many days, she shook her head firmly and declared.

Consequently, her position gradually became more unfavorable: her stipend was cut off, her outings were restricted, every letter she received was scrutinized, and though she lived in the Hojo clan's castle town, its retainers treated her as nothing but a foreigner.

Thus her own steadfast heart and the circumstances encircling her had left only two women—master and servant—in this old samurai residence, vainly confining youth and beauty too precious for others' eyes behind its nailed-shut gates.

A Heart Like the Tide’s Roar

“But My Lady, isn’t this strange?”

Hagino reconsidered once more and cast doubt on Yakumo’s words.

“Why?”

“Why do you say that? How could a mere candy seller possess that Hototogisu flute?”
“Lord Annaka Saburō would never entrust it to others under any circumstances.”

“That’s not necessarily true.”
“Surely，that candy seller is Lord Saburō’s secret messenger.”

Yakumo declared with words of conviction，like a spiritual revelation.

“Is that so?”

“That is correct.”

“Then shall we slip out quietly to see what manner of candy seller this is?”

“Ah...” she replied with quiet delight.

“But take care that none in the household notice.”

“There shall be no oversight.”

Hagino slipped out through the back gate’s crevice, evading prying eyes on the street.

Among what had once been numerous servants, Hagino alone remained to this day—attending to her master with meticulous care even while sleeping.—Watching that receding figure, Yakumo suddenly...

(Even though she’s young too—for my sake—)

A pang of guilt abruptly heated her eyelids.

Yet Hagino remained indomitable.
She always revealed those charming blackened incisors and never once wore a sorrowful expression.

Even now, before long, she came bustling back,

“My Lady!”

Panting, she drew close.

“How was it?”

“As expected, I am truly in awe of how admirable you are, My Lady.”

“Rather than that—the owner of the flute—”

“He is Ishida Daishichi, a covert agent of the Uesugi clan who serves in Lord Saburōshin’s forces.”
“And the flute was indeed, just as you surmised, My Lady, that very Hototogisu flute.”

“Then Lord Saburō wishes to send me correspondence—”

“That is correct,” she continued. “Lord Saburōshin entrusted it to Lord Daishichi so that carrying this flute would leave no room for doubt and serve as a means to locate you, My Lady.”

“I see…” Yakumo murmured, even now vividly etching in her mind the image of Saburōshin—who had been consumed by resolve every day since that moment.

“—And the letter…”

“Here.”

Hagino closed the window and carefully surveyed the residence’s garden and adjacent rooms before quietly pressing the secret letter she had concealed in her obi into her lady’s hand.

Yakumo opened the seal,
"How cherished..."
she murmured under her breath,
her eyes already brimming with maidenly tears.

“Lord Daishichi said to burn it in fire immediately after you finish reading.”

“I see…”

Burning it felt like a regrettable loss.
She read it over and over, then let out a sigh.

“My Lady.”
“What manner of things does the letter contain?”

“Here—look.”

After handing it to Hagino, she collapsed before her small desk.

That figure from behind—gasping without outlet for this torment, this passion—

Hagino was reading the permitted secret letter, her back pressed against hers.

Lady Yakumo,

I have not forgotten our vow made in the capital last year.
By heaven’s grace, that pledge remains engraved upon my heart.

Yet such is youth’s fragility in these turbulent times!
War and love stand incompatible.
Moreover, you must pardon this warrior who cannot cast aside his bow.
Here alone lies the solitary path binding our shared hopes.

That is for you to breach the castle’s surveillance and flee to my castle.
Fortunately, we are now holed up in Annaka Castle and repelling Takeda’s expeditionary force.

Do you have that courage?
Fortunately, should you deign to come, have the messenger convey that intent.
I shall risk death to lead my forces and come to meet you in the vicinity of Koga along the Tone River.

I await in faith that there shall surely be a reply bearing glad tidings.

Eiroku 6th Year, February

Saburōshin

As she read it over a few times, twilight began to drift across the paper.
After lighting a candle, Hagino held the letter up to its flame.
With a whoosh and a crackle, the paper became a single flame.

“My Lady!”
“……”

Hagino slid closer from behind and whispered into Yakumo’s ear in a strong—low—voice.

“Please write your reply—”
“Lord Daishichi should be waiting for your reply tonight at Miyuki Beach.”

“What should I write in response to those sincere words?”

“To sincere words, there is no other way to respond but with sincerity.”
“My Lady’s truth—as you have always declared—is to tread the path of womanhood.”

“Then… this Odawara—”

“You must flee, my Lady. Hagino will accompany you with her very life.”

“But… this land of ancestral lords—”

“Then—how do you mean to tread the path of womanhood?”

“Ah…”
Though she collapsed in tears, at once—

“Hagino. — Water for the inkstone.”

she said.

On Yakumo’s face as she held the brush and paper, a fierce resolve was etched.
The candlelight blazed vividly upon the passion etched in her profile.

“—I shall go.”

The night made departure easy.

It was a castle town abundant with plum blossoms.
In the deep darkness of Nishikikōji, a faint fragrance drifted.
When one passed straight through the town, the spaces between the pine trees glowed bluish-white.
And with a roar, the sound of waves came sweeping against the shore.

Hagino looked around the beach.

“Lord Daishichi… Ah…”

The promised figure was nowhere to be seen.
Nor under the large pine tree that had been indicated as the meeting spot.
Nor in the vicinity.
"What’s happened?"

She paced back and forth.
—Then, from inside a single fishing boat pulled up on the beach,

“Hey, servant of the Tōgō household?”

A voice called out.

Without thinking, she answered “Yes” and ran toward it,

“Lord Daishichi?”

As she drew near, the moment she did,

“Seize her!”

A man sliced through the reed screen and barked.

Hagino saw that face,

“Ah—”

She shuddered and staggered.

Where had they been hiding? Kicking up sand, a figure shrouded in blackness enveloped her, pinned down her desperate resistance, and bound her hands behind her back.

× ×

× ×

There was no reason she would return.—Yakumo waited with anxiety clutched to her breast for Hagino, who did not come back.

"What could have happened?…"
"The night has grown so late…"

She found herself opening the window.

Then—a figure wearing a sedge hat passed through the midnight beyond her window, pressing a fan to their mouth:

Swift tide—

Swept by surging waves—

Lost—

My companion plovers—

Swift tide—
The approaching rocky shore—
Arise
The remaining plovers—
The figure disappeared into Yogasa Lane’s crossroads while singing.

"Ah?…"
"That song just now—"

The roar of the sea had ceaselessly churned within her chest since earlier.
Startled, Yakumo closed it.

Soon, she extinguished the candle as well.
In the rear, only faint noises persisted quietly for a time; then, slipping through a tear in the garden wall, she fled uphill through the woods of neighboring Daishōji Temple.

After letting out a sigh of relief and casually glancing back toward her home—what a perilously narrow margin it had been!
The voices of the magistrate’s forces—who had come surging in through the front and rear gates brandishing lanterns and torches—were carried by the wind all the way to where she stood.

The houses she approached

“Ushizō….”
“Open up, please.”
“…Ushizō.”

Amidst the drizzling rain, voices arose, and someone knocked on the door as if hesitant.

It was a small village straddling Isoda Village and Ashigara Village upstream along the Sakawa River.
Of the five or six houses belonging to local peasants who made their living rafting, all were asleep—save for one that faintly showed lamplight through a broken window.

“Who’s there?”

The response seemed to come from Ushizō’s wife, Osuge.
Before long, with a creak, the door opened from within.

“Ah, the young lady from the castle town?”

Probably startled, she exclaimed in surprise.

“Hush—”

A wind whirling mist-like rain made the indoor lamp sway dimly.
Yakumo took off her straw raincoat and handed it to Osuge.

“Please keep quiet. I’ve finally managed to come here without being seen—”

“You’ve come at last. Through such a dark, rainy path…”

“Because magistrate’s notices seeking to capture me have been posted everywhere along the rainy roads—you must have heard the rumors as well.”

“Yes, today too my husband and I were just speaking of the rumors.”
“Come now, please come to the hearthside.”

Osuge added more firewood to the hearth,

“Unfortunately, my husband was told by the baggage train samurai to present himself—he went to the Sakawa office this evening, but should return any moment now.”

As she sat there drying her wet sleeves and robes, there came no sound of the light rain—only the distant, fearsome roar of the Sakawa River.

The master of this house, a man called Ushizō, had been a longtime associate of the Tōgō family until around the time of her father’s death. It was because she had judged this couple trustworthy that Yakumo came to seek them out.

The days that followed were truly a path of thorns. Because the magistrate’s officers appeared to be actively searching for her, moving about by daylight had naturally become too dangerous.

“Since you must be cold, perhaps something like this...”

With that, Osuge prepared some zōsui and offered it.

“Thank you.”

Yakumo took the chopsticks. And in her heart, she reverently acknowledged humanity’s enduring kindness.

Soon Ushizō returned—a burly man in his prime who had often boasted of his strength since their days as comrades. He reeked of alcohol, having apparently been drinking somewhere.

When Ushizō saw Yakumo, he sobered his drink-clouded eyes.

“This is—” he began gruffly, stiffening formally.

“I’ve come because I need your help.”

“Did you… remember even someone like me?”
“If there’s anything this Ushizō can do…”

“I’ll come straight to it—could you launch the raft and take me across the river tonight?”

“I’d like to say it’s simple—but as you know, young lady, with the Takeda forces from Kai pressing demands, our own clan’s troops are also deploying in great numbers.”
“All the rafts in this area have been requisitioned, and not a single one remains.”
“Travel is restricted to two crossings—the bridge at the castle town and the boat bridge here in Isoda—and even those cannot be crossed without a permit.”

“Then it might be impossible, but your household must have that permit.”
“Please transfer that permit to me.”

Yakumo’s eyes were filled with a desperate light.

Ushizō was deep in thought, but—

“Very well—it will repay years of obligation—”

With a solemn nod,

“To tell the truth—since I’ve been recruited as a baggage train laborer for this honorable campaign, losing that permit would leave me no way to answer to the group leader. But hell—if things go sideways, I’ll just offer this head of mine. Once you think that way, it’s no great matter.”
“Please wait a moment.”

With that, he took out from his pocket a small wooden permit stamped with the baggage train magistrate’s seal and placed it there.

“Thank you. I shall not forget this kindness.”

Having received it with reverence, Yakumo was already preparing to depart.

“But since we must avoid anything that would endanger your life—once I cross the boat bridge, I will leave this permit behind the votive tablet at the Jizō hall on the opposite bank. Then you can have a friend who won’t betray you retrieve it discreetly, and all will be well.”

“I see, that’s a sound plan.”
“But make sure you aren’t discovered at the boat bridge checkpoint.”

Ushizō said as he draped the straw raincoat over her.
"It’s alright"—she answered, but Yakumo was prepared for that place to be the boundary between life and death.
She had tucked her robes high up, put on straw sandals, donned a bamboo hat, and carried a short sword at her side.

“After the battle is over, I will surely send word.”
“And you too, Osuge—please live in safety.”

The white gleam of rain shimmered along the eaves.

After seeing off the receding footsteps disappearing into the muddy darkness, Ushizō closed it but did not go upstairs. When Osuge looked, her husband was tying the cords of his straw sandals and about to don a raincoat.

“Where do you think you’re going now?”

Osuge reproached him.

Ushizō laughed,

“It’s for money. — Don’t you know there’s an official notice offering fifty kan of silver to those who report secretly?”

The Battlefield Ledger of a Broken Heart

Hundreds of horses’ backs stood lined along the dark riverbank, beaten by the rain.
All that remained was to cross the river come dawn—soldiers and commanders slept still clad in armor beneath huts and tents.

At the entrance to the boat bridge, two large bonfires were lit, and through their crimson light passed laborers, merchants, farmers, oxen, and horses in ceaseless movement throughout the night.
In everyone’s eyes burned the strained light of wartime.

“Group Leader! — Boss!”

Ushizō stuck his head into the wet camp curtain and shouted.

Uozumi Jūsuke, the laborer group leader, was discussing the battle with the guards in the nearby guardhouse.

“What?” He turned around— “You’re Ushizō the raftsman, aren’t you?”

“Yes, sir!”

“Do you have business?”

“I need a moment of your time.”

“Me?”

And with that, Uozumi Jūsuke emerged from there. Ushizō, panting heavily, informed them that Tōgō Gorōzaemon’s daughter was supposed to pass through there using his permit and requested they capture her.

“When was that?”

“About two hours ago.”

“Then it was already nightfall?!”

“Yes, sir!”

“What good does it do for a fool to come report this late?!”

Jūsuke glared with a severe expression, furious.

On this opposite shore as well, over a thousand soldiers scheduled to depart tomorrow were encamped. For their business there, several women of the household had been crossing the boat bridge since evening already; thus, among them, Yakumo under investigation might have been present. Ushizō’s report had come too late.

“Why didn’t you come report immediately?”
“You’re making such claims now, but in truth, you conspired to let her escape, didn’t you?”

“N-no, not at all! The delay was because my wife—that wench—started raving at me, calling me an ingrate and a loofah, putting up such a fight that I got held up locking her in the storage shed.”
“Damn that wretched woman!”

“However, we cannot simply let this go.”

Uozumi Jūsuke was hurriedly explaining the details to the guards in the guardhouse.

Then.

Amidst provisions and military gear piled beside the hut—items that must not get wet—a samurai clad in dark blue-threaded armor and black leather fittings was sleeping under a draped curtain when he suddenly sat upright.

“Hey Jūsuke, don’t panic,” he called out.

Jūsuke turned around.

“Oh, Lord Kumagusu?”

“Ah, I slept well. Sleeping before battle is like eating before labor—if you keep your eyes sharp from the moment you leave the castle town like that, you’ll do no proper work when you reach the battlefield.”

“But I couldn’t remain calm when such a critical matter had arisen.”

“I was listening drowsily while half-asleep just now.”
“So you’re saying that Tōgō Gorōzaemon’s daughter Yakumo has crossed the river.”
“Indeed it is.”

“Ha ha ha ha”

Shrugging his shoulders, Aiki Kumagusu laughed.

He was a samurai not yet thirty years old, but with each battle, his name gained prominence and shone within the Hojo clan. He would always return triumphant, bearing military exploits that others could never achieve as his trophies. Until just a few years ago, he had been a low-ranking member of the spear unit, yet in this upcoming battle, he was already appointed as samurai commander of the vanguard unit and ordered to lead five hundred soldiers into battle.

When someone would ask him about the essence of battle,

(It's about dying—there's nothing else.)

he would always say with a laugh.

One might call it battle scorch—the skin of his face was as black and lustrous as Nanban iron. The mark left by his helmet cords remained as a faint white scorch. He had a bold nature and always occupied the top position in military merits ledgers, yet never resorted to petty schemes; rather, in daily life he kept his mouth closed sleepily and blocked his eyes—which held a deep gleam beneath thick eyebrows—with a gloomily half-lidded gaze.

“There’s no need to make such commotion over a mere woman. I, who know Yakumo’s face better than anyone, will strike her with a whip and bring her back.”

Having said that, Aiki Kumagusu himself led out a horse, skillfully made it prance across the boat bridge’s planks with rhythmic hoofbeats, and in an instant galloped off toward the river’s opposite bank.

“What’s this? He tells everyone to stay calm, then gallops off himself in such a frantic hurry.”
“Taking the vanguard—that’s always his way.”

As Uozumi Jūsuke muttered and watched,
“That’s exactly how it should be.”
One of the guards chimed in from inside the hut.

“Why? … Does it mean something?”

“Of course there is—don’t you know?”

“Dunno.”

“How roundabout.”
“Why, it’s practically common knowledge throughout the Hojo clan!”
“That man Aiki Kumagusu once studied the Hojo school of military strategy under Tōgō Gorōzaemon.”

“I know that too.”

“Knowing that much doesn’t help anything—the real story comes after. Aiki Kumagusu may have a face like a Myochin-forged menpo, but he’s got his charms.”

“Well, that makes sense.”

“While he was attending military strategy lessons, he apparently fell secretly in love with Gorōzaemon’s daughter, Lady Yakumo.”

“Hmm.”

“Isn’t that strange?”

“A bit strange.”

“And—they say he personally proposed to his master Gorōzaemon.”

“What’d he propose?”

“Please give me Lady Yakumo as my wife.”

“Ha ha ha ha. Hmm… That makes sense.”

“At that time, he was still just a foot soldier in the spear unit—his master was a samurai with a thousand-koku stipend. Their statuses differed; naturally, his proposal was rejected.”
However, Tōgō Gorōzaemon did not simply refuse.
Whether it was to encourage Kumagusu or merely an excuse remains unclear, but at any rate, he said this: “If you wish to become a samurai of repute and take a good wife, you must prioritize work over love.”
“If you achieve great military exploits, can’t you choose any woman across all three provinces as your wife or such?”
“It was after this that Kumagusu, at Iwabitsuyama Castle, became renowned as the first to claim both the initial spear strike and first head taken in battle; then at the Battle of Nobidome, he seized the enemy general’s head—with each campaign, he rapidly climbed from the foot soldier ranks to prominence.”

“Then Tōgō Gorōzaemon—the one who gave him harsh words—was for Kumagusu a benefactor who spurred him on.”

“But people—there’s none who’d take it that way.”

“Does he resent him?”

“That’s the rumor.”
“Still, what came after wasn’t good either.”
“Even though he’d said something about giving his daughter to him if he rose in status, Gorōzaemon and his daughter later entered into a betrothal with a vassal of the Uesugi clan while traveling—the very clan that’s now warring against our Hojo.”
“Aiki Kumagusu must not have felt good about it either.”

“Ah—now it all makes sense.”

“You understand now—Kumagusu’s true motives.”

“No wonder he’s personally taken charge whenever Lady Yakumo’s involved these past days—exactly like tonight’s affair.”
“It was Kumagusu too who seized and tortured Hagino, the Tōgō household maid.”

“All to vent his grudge.”

“There’s more. When Annaka Saburōshin sent a secret messenger from the enemy side to Yakumo—he was first to learn of it, captured that spy, and directed the magistrate’s forces to Yakumo’s residence. Later they say it was all Kumagusu’s doing.”

“The grudge born of love has been mankind’s most fearsome scourge since ancient times.”

“Especially where that man is concerned.”
“Yakumo’s found herself loved by a dreadful sort of person.”

“Being loved would be one thing…”
“What comes after is terrifying.”

“Ha ha ha ha.”
“No matter how mighty Kumagusu may be in battle, love can’t be won through martial prowess alone.”

“So for Annaka Saburōshin’s sake, he had his glorious military record stripped clean away?”

“But mark my words—in this coming assault on Annaka’s forces, you’ll see Kumagusu fight fiercer than ever before—”

Their mirthful chatter broke off as horseshoes struck stone with a metallic clang—from the riverbank directly below their post.

“Ah—he must’ve returned.”

“Kumagusu?”

Starting with Uozumi Jūsuke, they all stiffened and fell silent.

Entrusting his horse to the soldiers outside the camp enclosure, Aiki Kumagusu strode boldly in.
Raindrops glistened and pooled on the armor’s metal fittings and the sword’s hilt.

“What a regrettable thing I’ve done.”

He sank heavily onto the camp stool,

“My throat is dry. Jūsuke, give me water.”

He seemed deeply resentful.

Uozumi Jūsuke scooped a ladleful of water and passed it over while...

“Was Yakumo captured?”

“Don’t be stupid,” he snapped with terrible displeasure— “Yakumo crossed this pontoon bridge long ago.”
“Too much time has passed—even if you spurred your horse, you wouldn’t find them.”
“Beyond Kōzu village lies Okamoto Katsumasa’s encampment.”
“Who was it that leaked this information?”

“I am Ushizō of the raft handlers.”

“The insolent cur—you let Yakumo slip away, then dared parade your false loyalty after time passed! Such a knave isn’t worth the air you breathe.”
“Bring him here!”

“Hah!”

While dreaming of rewards, Ushizō had been standing with arms folded in the shadow of the encampment; upon seeing Jūsuke’s figure,

*He’s come to summon me.*

He grinned slyly, baring his white teeth.

Suddenly grabbing him by the collar, Jūsuke—

“Hey, Ushifuji! Come here!”

Dragging him roughly along,

“Ah, s-sir!”
“What are you doing?!”

Ushizō, whose hips had been kicked out from under him, scrambled into the camp enclosure as if swimming; upon catching sight of Aiki Kumagusu’s stern brow, he hurriedly tried to flee.

Kumagusu turned toward his retreating figure,

“Though you were fully aware of the circumstances yet neglected to report them—insolent wretch! I shall judge you according to military law!”

Ushizō let out a cry and leapt up. In that instant, Kumagusu’s battle sword clanged; beneath the white light that burst from its scabbard, Ushizō’s large body rolled like an overturned red-lacquer barrel. The head severed from its torso, battered by the rain, spread crimson oil across the mud as they watched, turning paler than wax.

“Jūsuke, make this an example for the three armies; take the head and expose it on the riverbank.”

Entering back into the plank enclosure, Kumagusu fell asleep once more amidst the dried rice bales and military bundles. Uozumi Jūsuke and the others were assailed by a chill of horror as they,

(Watch out; he’s in a foul mood)

They whispered to each other.

Pulling out a single bamboo pole from the fence, Jūsuke sharpened its tip with a blade, carelessly impaled Ushizō’s head upon it, and wordlessly descended toward the riverbank.

The hills and horses were briefly asleep; where would they make camp tomorrow? The rain beat desolately against the swollen great river, growing ever darker.

Girl with the Blackened Tooth

The Oshu ships that came to Odawara to sell southern horses, iron, leather, and gold dust would purchase textiles and grains for their return journey before pulling anchor from Miihama.

Moreover, a great number of passengers had crowded aboard in disarray.

Because the rain had cleared up,

“It’s cleared up nicely—perfect timing, and the waves are calm too.”

The passengers crawled out from the ship’s hold.

“It really poured down, didn’t it?”
“Where are you headed?”

“Ishinomaki.”

“And you?”

“I’m bound for Shiogama.”

“That’s quite a distance.”
“So, did you turn a profit?”

“Thanks to the war, this makes my second trade trip this year.”
“It’s unfortunate for the farmers, but...”

“This campaign looks to grow into a major one.”
“Even the mighty Takeda forces swept through Shinshū and Bushū, but Minowa Castle in Kōzuke Province refuses to fall.”
“Matsuida Castle and Annaka Castle are both defended by Annaka Echizen-no-kami and his son Saburōshin—the father-son commanders—and they too stand firm.”
“Even Lord Hojo dispatched five or six thousand men, but I daresay it’ll drag on.”

Turning her back to those voices, there was a peasant girl who had been dozing against the cargo bundles since earlier. She wore straw sandals and work trousers, her hair carelessly tied up with straw debris clinging to it.

Whenever the sound of sails roused her from sleep, her eyes would wander listlessly in search of the land’s shadow.
“Miss, where are you headed?”

The man in his thirties nearby—the most urban-looking among the ship’s passengers—wearing hand guards and gaiters for ease of movement, addressed her.

“Who, me?”

The girl replied curtly,

“I’m heading back to Koga.”

“So you’ll disembark at Edo no Sho and walk the rest of the way, I suppose.”

“Ah…”

the girl gave a crow-like reply.

She then took roasted beans from her sleeve and began munching on them, but occasionally, between her lovely lips, a blackened incisor—ravaged by decay—would show, and as her teeth didn’t seem particularly strong, she struggled to chew the hard beans properly.

“I’m thinking of heading out from Koga toward Kōzuke way myself.”
“Exactly—we’ll be taking the same road.”

“So what’s your trade?”

“A young hand from the castle town’s Uiro-ya.”

“Ah—a medicine seller, then?”

“We carry all sorts of medicinal supplies—hemostatic agents, battlefield ointments, you name it—and make the rounds to various military camps to fulfill their needs. It’s a life-risking trade.”

“…………”

When he thought there was no reply, the country girl put her hat over her face and was dozing off again—a girl who slept soundly.
A fierce sun suddenly shot through the clouds.
Someone let out a big yawn.

As the spring sun sank crimson, the Ōshū ship entered an inlet where reeds stretched as far as the eye could see to both left and right.
The terrifyingly wide river expanse—with sails lowered, it gradually proceeded upstream—

One of the passengers pointed to the forest on the left bank, as lush as a primeval forest, and...

“Deep in that forest, a Kannon shrine has been built, and they say people sometimes come to pray these days.”

“What do you call this area around here?”

“Within Edo no Sho, there’s a place called Asakusa.
That hill is called Shiomiyama, or Matsuchiyama.”

“So this is the Sumida River where Umewaka was killed by traffickers?”
“…What a lonely place.”

A white river mist was settling.

The lights of the fishing village glimmered here and there, two or three visible.
That was Hashiba no Shuku.

The medicine seller stood up,

“Well, we’ve arrived.
“…Everyone, go on ahead.”

The people remaining on the boat also,

“Take care on your way.”

A pale travel mood lingered.

Even calling it a post town would be generous—just thirty or forty ramshackle thatched houses leaking feeble rushlight into the gloom.

“Hm?”

The medicine seller had been searching—as if evading his gaze—the country girl who had disembarked from the boat slipped into one of the wooden inns.

“Hmm… There she is.”

Having confirmed this, the medicine seller went off somewhere.

That night.
The hour was now approaching midnight.

Through this post town, armor-clad soldiers ran on weary legs in groups of ten or twenty.

The sound of galloping horses also rang out.

“What’s going on?”

The travelers awoke, but the family at the wooden inn—now accustomed to the clamor of soldiers and horses—slept like pigs.
——Then, soon,
“Search this vicinity thoroughly.”
The clamoring Hojo soldiers who had turned back went from house to house banging them awake, and three or four of them also entered this wooden inn.

Celestial Maiden of the Fields

“Any suspicious characters staying here?”

When the soldiers outside barked from beneath the eaves,

“No one here! No one!”

Shaking their heads, the group who had searched the wooden inn emerged.

“Did we let her slip away after all?”

“Since when do women handle horses that deftly?”

“She’s Tōgō Gorōzaemon’s daughter—the military strategist’s blood runs through her.”
“Horsemanship’s the least you’d expect.”

“That nag she snatched right from our encampment too.”
“The woman’s got bottomless nerve!”

“Her single-mindedness is beyond reckoning.
“—A woman’s heart set on reaching the castle where her parents-approved—nay, her own beloved betrothed—stands besieged… Against such resolve, even a warrior’s courage would falter.”

“Were I born a man, I’d crave such devotion from a woman once in this life.”

“As foot soldiers, our prospects are nil.”

“Ha! Yet seeing how she spurns even Aiki Kumagusu with his battle honors, status and looks must count for naught.”

Seeming to have given up, they gathered their men and began to withdraw.

The innkeeper of the wooden inn grumbled to himself,
"I was finally asleep when they had to go and wake me."

Muttering under his breath, he closed the rear door but suddenly noticed an unfamiliar country girl hiding under the hem of the bedding where his wife and children slept.

“Huh?”
“You there—who are you?”

“I’m a guest who stayed at dusk.”

The country girl laughed.

“So you’re a guest? This here’s where we sleep. There’s a limit to this confusion!”

“But I was so scared, so scared. Have the soldiers already left…?”

“They’re gone now, get up.”

The innkeeper lifted the quilt.

She was a prudent girl, having properly prepared her footwear,
“Please excuse me.”

She apologized and left.
Perhaps feeling awkward, the next morning, this girl was the first to depart from the inn.

At the Sumida Riverbed，the girl was fastening the drawstring of the monpe trousers.

“Be careful—there are deep spots too.”
“Shall I carry you?”

At the presumptuous voice, she turned to look—it was yesterday’s uiro seller.

With loud splashes, the uiro seller waded ahead through the river, but when the girl reached Soka Namiki, he—

“You’re quick on your feet for a woman.”

He rose from beneath the row of trees and followed her.

“There was an inspection at the post town last night. Did you know?”

“Oh, I knew that.”

“You’re lucky you didn’t get hauled off to the garrison.”

The girl’s complexion changed slightly,

“Don’t be ridiculous! I haven’t done anything bad enough to get taken away.”

“But hey—don’t get mad. I heard the Hojo foot soldiers were lookin’ for a woman last night, so I was just worryin’ about you, ain’t I?”

“There’s no law that says just being a woman makes you subject to arrest!”

“But that woman’s rumored to be a real beauty too, and you’re quite the looker yourself.”

“I don’t know!”

“Ouch!”

The uiro seller pressed his hand to his face.
A single roasted bean had lodged itself between the fingers of his hand.

The girl quickened her pace with an angry expression, fuming.

But no matter how insulted he was, the uiro seller wouldn't leave.
Whether falling behind or moving ahead, he remained within half a chō of her shadow.

“Tch…”

The country girl clicked her tongue and pondered something, but the next day when she tried to enter Koga Town, military horses already filled the area—Hojo forces led by Satomi Yoshisuke and Chiba Shinsuke had stationed around seven hundred Bōsō soldiers there.

But no, it wasn’t just there.

In nearby hamlets and at key points along the Tone River—everywhere—soldiers were stationed, and horses were neighing.
Across the plains, messenger horsemen bearing horo cloaks galloped, while in the fields, foot soldiers clad in tea-brown armor kept watch westward day and night, spears at the ready.

The battlefront was close.

The country girl surveyed her surroundings,

(Ah, I was too late…)

She had widened her eyes in bewilderment, but after a few days passed, she was walking among the soldiers in the fields and riverbanks, selling rice cakes and sweets from a bamboo basket slung over her arm—though where she had procured them was anyone’s guess.

The foot soldiers—starving both for sweets and women—

“An angel’s come selling rice cakes!”

they clamored,

“Angel cakes? I’ll buy some!”

“Give me some over here too!”

Even while evading the military inspectors’ eyes, they competed to lighten her bamboo basket.

However—not a single soldier remembered this country girl’s blackened incisor.
In her heart, Hagino thought this was the benefit of having served solely by Yakumo’s side and having been confined for years in that Odawara mansion.

"But we can’t let our guard down."
"That uiro seller alone somehow seems to know my true identity."

The hardships from Odawara until boarding an Oshu-bound ship had truly been like walking a dangerous bridge.
When she thought about it now, it seemed almost unbelievable.
However, the true dangers and hardships were likely yet to come on the path ahead.
Hagino steeled herself for the road ahead—the path to Annaka Castle.

A Sudden Storm Without Rain

The letter from Annaka Saburōshin to Yakumo had stated:

"If Your Ladyship would come as far as the banks of the Tone River at Koga, I shall lead my castle soldiers and come to greet you in person——"

Hagino had come solely for this purpose, but that hope bordered on despair.

"The one driven from Hashiba Inn that night and passing through was indeed Lady Yakumo, wasn’t it?"

While selling rice cakes, Hagino casually inquired with the Hojo foot soldiers, but heard no rumors of Yakumo having been captured.

At this thought,

(My lady would never dream that Hagino has been following after her like this....Ah, if only I could meet her soon,) she prayed.

That time.

But that was now a day of the past.

At Miya no Hama in Odawara, the samurai who had captured Hagino was Aiki Kumagusu—the man she had loathed more than anyone in the Hojo clan.

Kumagusu spoke then with apparent satisfaction.

(There’s something I must ask this cunning woman myself.)

For days afterward, she had been confined to a makeshift cell within Kumagusu’s residence.
By fortune, Kumagusu had received deployment orders for the Kōzuke campaign, leaving his estate in disarray.

Then.

It was the very evening Kumagusu finally departed for battle.
Amidst the commotion—whether a retainer had dropped it—a short sword, drawn from its sheath, lay before the cell.
Was this divine aid? The blade now lay finally within reach.
Hagino broke out of the temporary cell that night.
And so, she fled frantically through wind and rain, endured hardships beyond reckoning—days beneath the floorboards of a relative’s fisherman house, in the darkness of a dried sardine warehouse, within a fishing boat—until at last she managed to board the Oshu ship.

“Without knowing any of this, Lady Yakumo must have already concluded I was either imprisoned or dead, and single-mindedly pressed onward ahead of me—hadn’t she?”

Hagino wandered aimlessly to no avail.

Spring faded—May—June—

The mulberry trees grew thick, the wheat stretched tall.

However, the soldiers and horses from Koga to the Tone River area remained stationed beneath towering clouds, unmoving.

No escorts from Annaka Castle were visible.

Yakumo's whereabouts remained completely unknown.

With the basket of rice cakes hanging from her arm, she walked beneath the blazing sun,

“Sirs, please buy some.”

In the shade of the mulberry fields, she walked while calling out.

However, on that very day,

“Don’t want any.”

“Who has time to stuff their face with rice cakes?”

Wherever she went, they wouldn’t sell.
Then afterward,

“Hey, give me one of those celestial rice cakes.”

The medicine seller, who had long been absent, unexpectedly showed his face and called out to her.

"So, how’s business? Selling any?"

“Yes.
“And how about military medicines?”

“The medicine business is booming.
“I already sold out my last shipment and had to go all the way to Odawara to restock.”

“It’s strange how well wound medicine sells even without any battles going on.”

“No battles? …What’re you blatherin’ about? For over a month now, Fukaya, Honjo, Hagikata in Chichibu—they’ve all been drenched in blood and screams.”
“And now the Takeda lot’ve teamed up with Hojo dogs to lay siege round Annaka Castle from afar—ain’t that so?”

“Annaka Castle…?”

“Aye.”
“Look at you—all pale-faced! What’s this? Got some sweet lad holed up there?”

“N-no… That’s not… That isn’t it at all…”

Hagino’s country accent vanished in her panic.

When he finished eating the rice cakes, the medicine seller declared, “Well then, time to march out and earn my keep.”

He started to stride off in large steps but suddenly stopped, reaching for the brim of his hat while—

“Huh—thought this garrison alone wouldn’t budge for reinforcements, but damn if the fighting hasn’t spread there too.
“The enemy might launch an attack tonight—or seems like our side’ll be heading out from here, I reckon.”

For someone talking to himself, his voice was rather loud.
The medicine seller, having said that, changed his path and departed.

—Around tonight…?
…….
Is that really true?

Hagino's heart leapt—this might be the Annaka forces coming to meet them. But what good would that be without Lady Yakumo? The blazing crimson sun sank beneath the shade of summer grass.

The evening held neither wind nor moon, but when midnight approached, with a roar, war cries shook the fields and farmlands.

Hagino ran up to the embankment of the Tone River.

The Hojo forces appeared to have anticipated tonight’s assault long in advance.

“It’s the Annaka forces! Rout them!”

From the shadow of the embankment, like a storm cloud, soldiers and horses, the glint of glaives, spears and longswords leapt over and over before crashing down upon the river.
Like a rainless evening storm.

The crackle of rifles echoed through the vast darkness.
Whizz— arrows whistled past Hagino’s face again and again.

“Oh…!”

On the opposite bank appeared a small dark mass of hundreds of soldiers and horses—undoubtedly the Annaka forces. Among them must have been Annaka Saburōshin.

“Ah! My Lady—”
“Ah! Lady Yakumo—”

Calling out at the top of her voice, Hagino headed toward the river and waded in like a madwoman, splashing wildly.

The Jeweled Palanquin

It lay in the direction of Tamonji Temple in northern Saitama.
This area was nothing but mulberry trees.
In the midst of those vast mulberry fields, there had always been a single weaver’s house where the reed’s sound kept a peaceful rhythm.

A monk from Tamonji Temple was violently knocking on the door there.

“It’s a battle, Master. It appears to be the long-awaited Annaka forces.”

—After some time passed,

“Then, go safely.”

“Take care…”

A female traveler was escorted out by members of the weaver’s household and emerged stealthily from the back entrance.

It was Yakumo.

“For so long, you sheltered me and showed me such kindness… Even if I should become part of the wilds’ soil, I will never forget.”

The farewell was hurried.
The sound of gunfire could already be heard this close by.

Although this weaver’s household had no connection whatsoever to the Tōgō family or to Yakumo, it was through a chance encounter and conversation with the head monk of Tamonji Temple on the road that she had come to wait there for this night’s crucial moment.

The day of reward had finally arrived. Tonight, at last, she would meet her lover. Her beloved’s soldiers and horses were almost here at that Tone River plain. For my sake—sacrificing countless soldiers and horses while staking even his own life at the forefront—he was fighting.

(What a waste!)

Yakumo thought that even a golden palanquin or jeweled carriage would pale in comparison—this welcome for a single woman was too divinely extravagant.

As she ran through the darkness, she felt her eyelids grow hot.

In return, once I become his wife, I shall dedicate myself a thousandfold for my husband’s sake! And ten thousandfold more, I will love his subordinate soldiers!

“Ahh…!”
“Ahh…!”

Yakumo was already amidst the war cries.

Bullets flew.
—A spear of unknown origin came thrusting forth.
Horses with their intestines spilling out lay sprawled here and there; soldiers clutching only the poles of their banners,
“Damn it! Damn it!”
With labored breath, they crawled through the corpses.

“Ah! Lord Saburō—”

Her black hair dashed through the blood-stinking darkness.

Thud, thud, thud, thud—a pitch-black group of mounted warriors came charging this way like a sudden downpour.
They appeared to be the Hojo vanguard whose frontline defenses had been broken.

“That’s them!”

Yakumo waited for the throng of galloping steeds. Clinging to the stirrup of the leading resplendent warrior, she asked, “Might you be Lord Saburō?”

“No!”

The warrior pushed her aside with his bow.

Another warrior came retreating, his ume blossom-patterned tassets swaying with a grating clang.

“Excuse me! Where might Lord Saburō be?”

“Don’t know.”

The horse’s tail swept past her face.

She did not flinch. Clinging again to the commanders of the following troops that kept coming,

“I humbly inquire—might you all be those from Annaka Castle?”
“No.”

When asked, the commander merely shook his head.
“Then… perhaps in my haste, I mistook the camp?”

And then, Yakumo picked up a horse abandoned on the battlefield and whipped it forward for half a ri. There too lay heaps of corpses alongside officers and soldiers whose resolve far surpassed that of the earlier troops—each time they scattered enemies in all directions and took heads, they shouted their names, raised victory cries, yet advanced their formation in perfect order.

“This is indeed the main camp of Lord Annaka Saburōshin, retainer of the Uesugi clan!”

She did not entertain any doubt.

Headlong, she charged her horse into the midst of what seemed to be the main camp's samurai retainers,

“I am Yakumo!”
“I am Yakumo, whom you have come to receive!”
“Please announce me to Lord Saburōshin!”

When she dismounted and declared this, seven or eight retainers abruptly encircled her,

“Are you Lady Yakumo, daughter of Tōgō Gorōzaemon?”

they demanded confirmation.

“Yes, I am indeed Yakumo who previously received the honorable secret letter from Lord Saburōshin—there is no mistake.”

No sooner had she answered than,

“Divine will!”

An armored retainer thrust against her back with a thud.

As if struck by an iron bucket, Yakumo staggered forward.
From left and right and front, suddenly, armored arms grabbed her slender wrists,

“This is the camp of Satomi Yoshisuke of the Hojo faction."
“How dare you come here and declare yourself as Yakumo!”

“Gh…”
“Then… the mounted warriors who retreated earlier—”

“Those aren’t Lord Saburō’s soldiers either.”
“They’re Uesugi allies from Hitachi Shimotsuma—heard Annaka Castle was in danger and rushed to reinforce it. We crushed their vanguard before they could gain momentum.”

“Ah…”

Like a white flower crushed against stone, Yakumo pressed her face to the earth and surrendered her wrists to the coarse ropes.

Kihoro Escort

Hooves and armor-clad straw sandals kicked up dust in rapid succession.
The sky was stained a dull yellow, and the sun appeared black.

A portion of the Hojo forces that had set out from Oritone were hastening toward Annaka Castle in a snaking formation along the scorching midsummer road.

“Leave those who collapse behind!”
“Men who succumb to this heat are useless!”

The mounted general barked orders from his saddle as they advanced.
The ashigaru on foot succumbed to heatstroke and dropped out in rapid succession.
Even those still walking breathed like men in the grip of fever.
Every face resembled a rough wall—only the eyes gleaming, sweat streaming down.

“Damn it!”
“Keep moving!”

A line of about ten ox carts and around thirty packhorses trailed behind the army’s rearmost units, but as the oxen and horses kept rearing and bucking, they had fallen far behind.

“Ox driver, you should rest.”

Within one of those military ox carts, Hagino had been allowed to ride.
This was thanks to having become thoroughly acquainted with the ashigaru and supply train workers.

“You should eat something sweet.”
“Your body won’t hold out otherwise.”

“Don’t spout nonsense—you’ll lose your head!”

“How pitiful… the men who go to war.”

“Hey, watch the woman!”

When the foot soldiers beat the stubborn horse with spear shafts, the beast seemed to go mad—plunging into a rice field and thrashing wildly alone.

“Leave it! Leave it!”

They abandoned even that wreckage and pressed onward.

Hagino had learned at dawn—from these very soldiers—that the warhorses sighted beyond the Tone River two nights prior hadn’t belonged to Annaka’s forces after all.

After that battle, this unit soon received orders from headquarters to advance to Annaka and departed.
Hagino thought her mistress Yakumo might have already entered Annaka Castle by now, so she suddenly felt compelled to join this military campaign.
Yet even that felt like a fleeting hope she couldn’t rely on.

Before long, when they reached the entrance to the tree-lined road,
“Ho! Kihoro riders coming from behind! Clear the way!”

The ashigaru commander brandished his spear and bellowed.

The yellow-hooded riders were markers of battlefield messengers; urgent envoys were permitted to gallop through even within camp formations and could even cut across marching columns.
One Kihoro rider and about five ordinary mounted warriors, surrounding a single unarmored horse in their midst, emerged one after another from the yellow dust and raced headlong across their field of vision before galloping away into the distance.

On the back of one unarmored horse, a woman was bound with coarse rope.
The warriors before and after were under Aiki Kumagusu’s command.

“Hey, a woman!”

“That’s the woman captured at headquarters the night before last.”

For an instant, the foot soldiers burst into raucous commotion at merely hearing the word “woman.”
Hagino too had glimpsed it fleetingly.
The moment she thought *Ah—*, blood surged to her head, and as she tried to rise, a swirling dizziness overwhelmed her.

“Hey! The mochi seller fell from the ox cart!”
“Did illness strike her?”
“Abandon her!”
“No—have pity on the woman!”

Three or four supply porters ran back and lifted her from the dust.

Ceaselessly, the ox cart wheels continued to turn onward.

When night came, the march became much easier.
Hagino hid among the people and did nothing but weep.

Early the next morning, the troops and horses arrived at Annaka’s castle town. There too, Hagino collided with pitch-black despair. For all banners visible upon Annaka Castle’s walls belonged to the Hojo and Takeda forces.

Having endured nearly half a year under siege by the Kō-Ō allied armies, it was rumored that Annaka Saburōshin—the castle commander who had defended this isolated stronghold—had set fire to his position at yesterday’s dawn and fled to Matsuida Castle, where his father Echizen-no-kami was making his stand.

The Impregnable Castle

Had he dreamt it—Aiki Kumagusu—

“Yakumo!”

With that loud cry—as if startled by his own voice—he jolted upright on the shield.

Bluish moonlight cast upon the military tent.
Even in armor, midnight brought a chill.

Uozumi Jūsuke bent down toward the hem of the tent and placed a hand.

“Were you calling for me?”

“No… I did not summon you.”

“But I heard your voice.”

“I don’t know.”

“It must have been my ears playing tricks.”

As Jūsuke started to leave,

“Wait, wait.”
“Did I say something?”

“You must be weary from battle.”
“Like a delirious mutter—”

“Wh-what did you say?”

“It seemed you said ‘Yakumo.’”

Kumagusu, bitterly contorted, moved his large, masculine lips soundlessly, but—

“I see… Or rather, perhaps that’s it. …Our ally Yoshisuke Satomi went to the trouble of capturing that woman, and while it was convenient for interrogation to take her into my encampment, I’ve been constantly worrying that if she were to escape again, it would bring great shame upon me—so much so that I even dreamed of Yakumo fleeing in my sleep.”
“Ha ha ha ha ha”

“She’s been kept in the temporary hut for over twenty days now—her body should’ve fully healed.”
“Why not have her brought out tonight for interrogation?”

“There’s no need to rush.”

With that, he shook his head heavily,

“—I’m worn out from battle today.”

“That’s true enough.”

“Just make sure she doesn’t escape. Make sure she doesn’t escape.”

“I have posted guards in alternating shifts of ten each, so you need not worry about that.”

When Jūsuke left, he once again lay down on the shield, his armor clanking heavily as he rested his head on his arm and drifted into a doze.

This was a hilltop encampment that had Myōgi Mountain at its back and faced the Usui River. The Matsuida Castle where the enemy father and son—Annaka Echizen-no-kami and Saburōshin—were holed up stood as a formidable stronghold across the river, visible enough to point out from here.

The terrain of this castle—seemingly cradled within the embrace of three mountains: Myōgi, Asama, and Haruna—appears to have stymied even the Takeda forces. The approaches were limited to merely two routes: this riverbank and the mountain path from Annaka through Shimogōkan. Gathering tens of thousands of soldiers and horses would have proven futile.

The Takeda forces, having captured Minowa Castle,

(We'll leave what remains to you Hojō.)

As if declaring their intent without words, they left only a restraining force of warhorses behind and withdrew in near-triumph.
Aiki Kumagusu, stationed before this impregnable castle's front, now found his mettle being tested by both Kai Province commanders and Odawara allies alike.

(Tear it down!
I'll tear it down!)

In his brow, that conviction faintly showed itself without words, but August had already begun. Soon autumn winds would rise along this Usui River—and no sooner would those winds begin to blow than snow would crown the peaks of Akagi and Haruna. And what would happen if Kenshin himself were to muster the Uesugi forces' elite and surge into the plains of Kōzuke from beyond Mikuni Pass like a tide? His subordinates gazed up at his face. "You've gotten a bit thinner."

they worriedly whispered to each other.

Certainly, Aiki Kumagusu’s cheeks had begun to show signs of weight loss—even now, as they gazed at his face in the moonlight, dozing fitfully upon a shield with his arm for a pillow.

Black-Haired Assassin

Unawares, Aiki Kumagusu seemed to have fallen asleep.

The katydids sang out with a pleasant sound.

Even the shadows of crickets clinging to the hem of the camp curtain were rendered translucent by the moon’s piercing clarity. And—the insects’ cries abruptly ceased. Outside the tent curtain, a shadowy figure had crept closer like a kitten and now crouched there—when had it arrived?

Concealing a short blade behind her back, she peered through a gap in the camp curtain at the sleeping figure—
She was a country girl assassin with long black hair hanging down her back.

“Kumagusu! —Have you realized?!”

She slashed through the camp curtain and leapt inside—

“Ah! What are you doing?!”

At that, the townsman who had been sleeping there leapt up and grabbed her arm. When she looked, it was the uiro seller she had parted with in the fields of Koga long ago.

“Huh? You—why are you in a place like this here?”

“What’s so strange about that? I always come here to sell medicine to your camp.”

“Kumagusu! Kumagusu—”

“You’ve got something dangerous there. Let go of that!”

“I’ll avenge my lady’s anguish—even if I die stabbing the wrong man.”
“You’re one of Kumagusu’s men too?!”
“What a pain in the ass!”

The uiro seller man pinned Hagino down and bound her face with cloth to silence her.
And then, lifting another inner layer of the camp curtain,
“Lord Kumagusu.”

“Oh, you detestable wretch—Yakumo’s servant, eh?”

“What shall I do?”

“I leave her punishment to you.—Get it done by tonight.”

“Understood. Then—”

Nodding in acknowledgment, the uiro seller man cradled Hagino’s body in his arms and vanished somewhere like a demonic wind.

From around that time, the midnight air grew restless from somewhere unseen.
Aiki Kumagusu, his eyes gleaming, had been attuned to that presence akin to the earth’s own rumblings when he bolted upright in shock and—

“Jūsuke! Is Uozumi Jūsuke not here?!”

Jūsuke ran up and crouched with spear in hand.

“What’s that—that distant noise?”

“They’re allies.”

“Allies?”

“Therefore, it seems someone spread rumors that leaving Matsuida Castle to the Aiki forces would mean it wouldn’t fall even in a hundred years. Because of this, by order of Lord Ujiyasu at the main camp, Satomi Yoshisuke and other troops suddenly launched a full-scale attack from the Shimogōkan mountain path.”

“What? They launched a full-scale attack, bypassing this Aiki Kumagusu?”
“Hmm... I see...”

He bit his lip, lost in intense thought, when suddenly—

“Sound the gong! The gong!”
“Beat the full-scale war drum!”
By the time night whitened into dawn, Matsuida Castle had been stormed by the Aiki forces.

After donning his armor,

“Jūsuke! Light the bonfires! Light every last bonfire you can!”

he commanded.

Jūsuke ran around delivering Kumagusu’s orders to each of the commanders.
It was as sudden as a thunderbolt.
From behind the barracks, a wild horse began to thrash about, and neighed in the riverbed where night still lay deep.

Flames of Hatred, Flames of Love

Spreading out the mountain map of Matsuida Castle, Aiki Kumagusu devised a secret stratagem.
And his resolve was set.
He gathered the commanders of the arquebus squads, spears, bows, and long swords—

“We either take the castle or die trying—we’ll decide between these two before dawn.”
Aiki Kumagusu too staked his life on this day as he advanced.
“To repay the ancestral debt owed to your house—there is no day but today.”
“Do I make myself clear?”

Having finished speaking, he issued the arrangements.

As soon as that ended,

“Drag Yakumo out.”

he said to Jūsuke.
Jūsuke hesitated,

“Huh? Now?”

“Yes.”

He could not fathom Kumagusu’s resolve.
Why would he order her to be dragged out now, at this critical moment when every second counted in their full-scale assault?

“I’ve brought her.”

At Jūsuke’s voice, Aiki Kumagusu—who had again spread out the mountain map with his back turned—swung around.

He groaned deeply—“Hmm...”

Yakumo was being dragged before the raging bonfire, her hands twisted behind her by two warriors. Though gaunt—clad in plain white mourning robes—and having spent over twenty days in a makeshift prison without sunlight, leaving her cheeks’ rouge faded to pallor—her innate beauty remained wholly undiminished. No—to Aiki Kumagusu, who had frequented the Tōgō household years earlier while paying respects to his master, her pure maidenly beauty now seemed even more pronounced than before.

“Yakumo!...”

“......”

“Yakumo!...”

It was Kumagusu’s voice, laden with bitter resentment.
His brows twisted into a fearsome expression.
His teeth clenched tightly, binding the tremor of his lips.

“You couldn’t have forgotten the name Aiki Kumagusu."
“Not for a single moment—awake or dreaming—have I forgotten."
"That which was seared into this breast for a lifetime..."
“You shall know its nature soon enough.”

Yakumo firmly raised her face. On her face, in her eyes, blazed the fierce red bonfire. As if it were burning her heart there.

“You are utterly despicable! Is this what lies in a samurai’s heart? I cannot fathom the depths within you. You will only be scorned as a base coward. At this final hour, there is nothing left to say. But if you possess even a shred of humanity, you must understand how grueling it is for a woman of frail strength to fight for her path as a woman in this war-torn Sengoku world. If there remains a single tear within you, allow me to stand before Matsuida Castle. Just one word—I wish to cry out my own heart—a woman’s heart—to Lord Annaka Saburōshin within that solitary fortress before I die. Even from afar would suffice—I want us to see each other’s forms, just once, and die.”

“Very well!”

Kumagusu nodded deeply with his entire body.

“I’ll grant your wish as you desire. It is my deepest wish to make Saburōshin watch as my future wife is cut to pieces by the enemy beneath the castle—by none other than this Aiki Kumagusu. Jūsuke, bind this woman with rope!”

× ×

× ×

The fierce battle raged from the Hour of the Ox until dawn—mountains roared, valleys howled, and the Usui River screamed.

“Now is the end.”

Then castle commander Annaka Saburōshin threw open the gate once and charged out in attack, but driven back by the ferocious Aiki forces that morning, he retreated inside the castle gate, sealed every entrance, and unleashed every last arrow and bullet upon the besiegers.

“Coward! Coward! I have words for you, Castle Commander Saburōshin!”
“Cease your firearms, hold your bows!”

At that moment, the one who brought his horse right up to the castle’s dry moat and shouted in this thunderous voice was none other than Aiki Kumagusu.

The Tear-Stained Warrior

To his own flank where he had mounted the black bay’s saddle pommel, he had bound Yakumo’s body with a thick cord of vivid ancient purple visible even from afar.
Wrapping one arm further around Yakumo’s body and supporting her as if cradling her, while in his right hand he firmly brandished a war fan,

“—Lord Saburōshin, how have you fared?”
“The auspicious day to fulfill the vow you made long ago has come—are your preparations still not complete?!”

Then, from the castle’s arrow slit, a white-haired old samurai revealed his face. Upon closer look, he had removed all his armor and now wore plain clothes over a hemp ceremonial robe; waving a white fan as he replied,

“It is an honor to meet you at last.”
“This one is Saburōshin’s father, Annaka Echizen-no-kami Nagafusa.”
“I am at a loss for words—simply overwhelmed with grateful tears for your consideration on this occasion.”
“By the message from the secret messenger received at dawn, though we father and son would sooner die than surrender this Matsuida Castle to the Hojo clan, our arrows aimed at your righteous heart have already been exhausted.”
“Saburōshin’s person shall be left to your command, but this Echizen-no-kami, now a body with no future, will presently offer himself as this castle’s ceremonial substitute.”
“Behold now—the final moments of this old warrior—”

“Oh!”

At the instant Kumagusu lowered the folding fan to his steed’s mane, the figure of Annaka Echizen-no-kami that had been visible in the arrow slit was already gone.
And crimson flames erupted from every arrow slit at once.

“It’s fallen—the castle has fallen!”
“If we’re outdone by the Satomi and our other allies, it’ll be a disgrace to the Aiki forces! The samurai name will be ruined! Charge! Mount up!”

No sooner had he spoken than—but then, what happened next?—Aiki Kumagusu brought his whip to his steed and, like a hawk, soared away from the battlefield.

The fierce steed climbed in a death-defying frenzy from Gokan’s back road toward Kazato Pass.—Then, like a vast mirror, Lake Haruna gradually came into view in the distance.

“Hoy…! …Hoy…!”

With all the voice he could muster, he called out—to the peaks, to the valleys, to the distant plateau beyond.

Then, already in the distance beyond the plateau of riotous autumn grasses, there were those who waved banners.
There were about two hundred warhorses.

Stepping out from that line and standing solemnly in a row as if to welcome Aiki Kumagusu were Annaka Saburōshin; Ishida Daishichi—the ninja who had previously gone to Odawara castle town as a secret messenger—and beside them was Hagino.

“You must have been waiting impatiently.”

Bringing his steed close, Kumagusu untied the thick purple cord and gently slid Yakumo’s body—which he had been cradling as if to soothe her—down from the saddle pommel.

“Hah…”

Saburōshin and Yakumo took each other’s hands and sank into the autumn grass.
Everything still seemed like a dream to Yakumo.
When she looked, there—a few feet away—was Aiki Kumagusu, whom Saburōshin had resented and she herself had loathed until yesterday, prostrated with both hands on the ground, face still lowered. And this fierce warrior, his features utterly stained with tears, remained bowed low, incapable of raising his head.

“What has happened…? What in the world is this?”

Yakumo felt as though she were returning to full consciousness.
Her hollow eyes could not accept the sight of this unforeseen figure before her, even as they witnessed it.

“You are quite right,”

Kumagusu spoke in his usual grave voice.

“All of this was done solely through my own resolve—you could never fathom it.”
“Such stratagems ought to remain beyond the ken of one as unsullied as yourself.”
“Only this—may you find lasting fortune, bear noble children, and may Lady Yakumo make offerings to her mentor Gorōzaemon-sensei, while Lord Saburōshin does likewise for his austere father Echizen-no-kami-dono.”
“—And this Kumagusu is filled with naught but joy—no vainglory, no artifice—such gladness that tears of felicity overflow without cease.”

*The Way of Women · The Way of the Warrior*

“Why must this be? I wish to understand.”
“Kumagusu—what brings you such joy?”

“To perform what a man must perform…”

“Then from the beginning—you bore no hatred toward this Yakumo or Father?”

“What cause could exist for hatred? This Kumagusu’s very being today owes itself to my mentor’s grace—not for a single day have I forgotten.”
“In plain terms—because worldly sophists ceaselessly probed my intentions and spread dangerous rumors about your person, I employed what you might call inverse military strategy: positioning myself as your foremost enemy so every arrow meant for you would pierce this flesh instead. For example—”

With that, he cast a glance at Ishida Daishichi, the ninja,

“Moreover, when Daishichi there first infiltrated Odawara castle town, the magistrate’s inspectors had already begun viewing his behavior as suspicious.”

“If by any chance the secret letter from Lord Saburōshin that Daishichi carried were to fall into others’ hands, Lady Yakumo would have your head taken by the lord that very day.”

“Thinking thus, I captured him.”

“Moreover, capturing Hagino was also part of the same plan, and it was undoubtedly this Kumagusu who dispatched the captors to Lady Yakumo’s residence.”

“I still cannot comprehend—if you who go so far as to shield me thus, why did you incite captors to torment me?”

“Do you no longer remember that night? Just before the captors arrived—there was a samurai who came beneath the window of your residence wearing a sedge hat, hinting at mysterious words blended with a Noh chant to deliver a warning.”

“Ah…! Then that sedge-hatted person… Kumagusu, was it you?”

“Furthermore, for Hagino’s sake, I deliberately left a dagger near her cell during the chaos of deployment—a fortunate opportunity. And it was my scheme to have Ishida Daishichi—whom I had hidden in my residence beforehand—skillfully disguise his appearance as a medicine seller and have him protect Hagino. As for the rest… I won’t recount each one. I had Daishichi deliver a full report of all matters to Lord Echizen-no-kami and his son at today’s dawn… And here, I was able to lay bare my innermost heart and apologize to my mentor’s daughter. This is my heart’s desire. Now then, Hagino—fulfill your loyalty. My assistance is but temporary; your service has a long future ahead… I beg you.”

Having finished speaking, he returned to his horse’s back,

“Esteemed company, this is farewell.”

Annaka Saburōshin, who had been hanging his head in silence,

“Please wait a moment.”

He ran around to the front and grabbed the bridle, but tears streamed down his face as he bowed his head and could not utter a word.

Kumagusu, perceiving his feelings,

“I would take my leave—please release me.”

“Lord Kumagusu… I—I’m sorry.”
“This unworthy one has been defeated by you!”
“I have been vanquished!”

“Love is not meant to be a battle.”
“You should not entertain such thoughts.”
“My efforts would be in vain—and your late father Lord Echizen-no-kami’s death would also be rendered meaningless.”

“Huh? Did Father fall in battle?”

“That too is a sorrow to bear.”
“I believe your father must have been dearly satisfied as well.”

“Ah, Yakumo…”
“What are we two to do?”

“There is a path at Mikuni Pass.”
“If you cross over that mountain’s ridge, there lies your ancestral land.”
“If you set foot on that land—Lady Yakumo and that person will each naturally reach your own resolution.”

“That’s right—a woman must fully commit to a woman’s way, and a samurai to a samurai’s.”
“Lord Kumagusu.”
“Let us meet again!”
“On the battlefield.”

“Next year—Shinano or Kōzuke?”

With that, Kumagusu cast a sudden glance across the surrounding mountain ranges—a single tear pooling on his lashes in the wake of great joy, embodying the solitude of the warrior’s path.

A cold, mist-laden wind had already begun soughing from the mountains bordering Echigo, announcing autumn to the sleeves of their armor.

(August 1935)