Pathway to Japanese Literature

Two Daytime Hawks

“Ah! Thief!”

Inoue Hanjuro Masakage rushed out with his sword half-drawn.

After crossing Lake Hamana in early autumn and having a midday meal at a tea shop on the outskirts of Maihama’s post town, just as he took out his wallet intending to pay, a long hand emerged from behind a screen and abruptly snatched it, darting out through the front entrance.

But the incident didn’t end there. Chasing after that daytime thief, Hanjuro had instinctively stepped over the threshold when a profound unease gripped him—he whirled around and froze in shock.

The second man—who until now had been meekly eating his lunch in townsman-like fashion—grabbed the divided luggage Hanjuro had left at the seat and bolted out through the back entrance.

“Ah!”

Hanjuro abandoned pursuit of the first man who stole the wallet and desperately chased after the second man who took the divided luggage.
The money in the wallet—though a significant sum to Hanjuro in his current state—amounted to merely thirteen ryō and two bu, just enough for travel expenses to Edo. But within the divided luggage lay something irreplaceable: the secret scroll of Inoue-ryu gunnery, more precious than life itself, social standing, or personal honor.

“You there! You think I’ll let you escape?!”

The pursuing samurai and pursued thief, bathed in July's bright sun, plowed straight through rice fields, cultivated plots, thickets, and woods.
Though the thief's fleetness was unmatched, the fervent determination of Inoue Hanjuro Masakage—a twenty-seven-year-old ablaze with fury and shock—was no common feat.

“Return it! That’s no trinket—if you don’t yield it back, you’ll taste my shuriken!”

While running full tilt, Hanjuro drew his dagger and swept it upward.
The scoundrel stood but twenty paces distant—five or six strides more would let his blade bite true into that fleeing neck.

The rogue, already sensing his pursuer's ferocity, bent at the waist and swiftly darted to the right.
From there to the grove’s entrance stretched a thicket about his height—perfect for blocking throwing daggers.

“Ah!”

For an instant, the rogue’s figure vanished from sight.
He plunged into the grove as though skimming the earth.

Inoue Hanjuro Masakage continued his pursuit, resolved that this time—should he catch sight of the rogue—he would hurl the shuriken without hesitation. With every fiber of his being focused, he plunged into the grove—

But the grove proved unexpectedly shallow. Before Hanjuro, who had plunged in, a broad sunlit path opened up—and there stood a young woman, smiling bewitchingly as if to greet him.

The rogue?

No sooner had he looked than there was the rogue about thirty feet ahead, head thrust forward and hands gripping an invisible helm, desperately fleeing.

“You there!”

The raised shuriken was—strangely—halted midair.

“Please wait—the item you need is this, is it not?”

The young woman presented the familiar divided luggage before Hanjuro’s eyes.

“How did you get that?”

“Having observed your predicament, I took it back from the rogue’s hands.”

“――――”

Hanjuro felt an inexplicable start.
This woman’s clear voice held an unforgettable resonance.

“But please refrain from the shuriken—it’s needless killing.”

The young woman said this and showed a knowing smile as she presented the divided luggage before Hanjuro. Her wheat-colored cheek bore a lingering dimple—deep and unsettling. The long-slitted eyes and crimson lips—all strangely bewitching—contrasted with two missing front teeth and a fiery red birthmark stretching from her right temple to cheekbone. Hanjuro shuddered involuntarily, as though gazing at a masterpiece ceramic from a famed kiln ruined in firing: a raw collision of beauty and disfigurement.

The extreme disharmony between this woman’s beauty and ugliness inevitably stirred in all who beheld her a resentment akin to nature’s cruel jest.

“――――”

While watching the fleeing figure of the second rogue, Hanjuro indeed hesitated—

“Come now, let us proceed.”

Without another word, the woman started walking.
Having obtained the divided luggage more precious than life, he now found himself concerned about the wallet that had been taken by the first daytime thief.
Though its contents amounted to merely thirteen ryō and two bu, without that, there was no prospect of continuing his journey to Edo.
For reintroducing Inoue-ryu gunnery to the world once more, those thirteen ryō and two bu were substantial capital.

Traveling Companion: The Beauty

Inoue Hanjuro Masakage, rendered penniless and reduced to constant hesitation, found himself supported by the red-marked beauty and somehow arrived at an inn in Hamamatsu.

“After all, I too am heading to Edo.
“Please do not stand on ceremony like that—allow me to accompany you. The travel expenses—I will—”

With those words, the woman abruptly blushed.
She must have realized she had spoken too boldly for a woman.

“I do not scorn your kindness, but from a stranger, to go so far as to—”

Even after being shown to the inn’s second floor, Inoue Hanjuro Masakage was still saying such things.

“Oh, such formality! Even if you say we’re strangers, have we not spent over half a day together since then? If you would allow me to accompany you to Edo, I cannot express how reassured I would feel—a woman traveling alone is truly filled with nothing but unease—”

The woman lowered her face sadly. Had that birthmark stretching from above her eye to her cheek not been there, how beautiful and gentle this woman would have appeared. She appeared to be in her mid-twenties, exuding a steadfast refinement evident both in her samurai-like bearing and fresh cotton garments. And yet—why on earth was this woman’s visage burned so deep within the oldest layers of Inoue Hanjuro Masakage’s memories?

“I am Inoue Hanjuro Masakage, a ronin of Ōmi Province.”
“Then I shall accept your kindness and borrow travel provisions to Edo—were I to lose all funds, I would return to my native Ōmi even as a beggar. Yet with urgency permitting no substitution for my person or station, I must hasten to Edo. Should I cling to pride or appearances, my life’s filial duty would remain unfulfilled—”

With those words, Hanjuro’s earnestness—as he placed a hand on the tatami mat—his striking features slightly delicate yet vigorous at twenty-seven years old—seemed a reliability stretched taut to breaking.

“Oh, there’s no need to speak so formally, my lord.”

The woman grew oddly subdued.

“Having had my vital luggage retrieved and even being furnished travel funds by my benefactor, I would at least learn your name.”

“I was born in Koishikawa, Edo, and raised a samurai’s daughter—yet through certain circumstances became townsfolk. Shizu—is the name I bear.”

“Lady Shizu—am I to style you thus?”

“When you speak of journeying to Edo for filial duty—does this mean something akin to parental vengeance—”

Oshizu lowered her voice.
Inoue Hanjuro’s guileless manner must have seemed like that of a revenge tale’s protagonist.

“Well, I wouldn’t call it a blood feud, but—”

“――――”

“There’s nothing to hide. To confide in you, my benefactor Lady Shizu—this too must be some karmic bond. I shall relate everything without omission.”

Inoue Hanjuro Masakage began while looking around in all directions.

The story began exactly five years ago—on the thirteenth day of the ninth month in the third year of Shōhō.

The Blood Feud Between Two Houses

Inoue Geki Masatsugu, serving as the shogunate’s artillery officer with a 1,000-koku stipend, and his colleague Inafune Kitauji Naokata (650-koku stipend) initiated a dispute over the matter of firing fifty five-kanme projectiles,

“It can be done.”
“Nay, it cannot be done.”
“I shall splendidly demonstrate it for you to see.”
“What could your lordship possibly achieve?” he persisted with endless obstinacy.

The artillery commander at that time was Nagasaka Tango-no-kami Nobutsugu (1,800 koku), who once fought in the Keigen Saido no Tatakai under the name Nagasaka Chisō Kurō, earning renown among the Hatamoto Henmei-gumi—a veteran warrior who had galloped through countless battlefields.
If the two prestigious families under his command—Inoue and Inafune—continued their feud, it would reflect poorly on both their reputation in society and his leadership example to his subordinates. Thus, he summoned both men to his residence and hosted a reconciliation banquet with prominent members of the division as witnesses.
Matters had remained peaceful until that point, but due to Nagasaka Tango-no-kami’s biased handling of affairs and the ill-fated exaggerations spoken in drunkenness, Inoue Geki—overcome with fury—cut down both his superior Nagasaka Tango-no-kami, the battalion commander presiding over the gathering, and his rival Inafune Kitauji. He himself was then slain by Oguri Chōzaemon and Okuyama Shigazaemon, who had been present at the scene. Thus all three men perished together there.

“The details of this incident are thoroughly documented in *Kansei Chōshū Shokafu* and *Futagawa Zuihitsu*, but my dispute was met with severe legal judgment: the Nagasaka family was extinguished, while Inoue Geki’s son Hanjuro Masakage and Inafune Kitauji’s son Kizaburo Naohisa were both stripped of their samurai status and exiled. Thus, the matter was provisionally settled.”

However, the Inoue family had been renowned Ōmi smiths for generations, with Geki said to be the founder of Inoue-ryu gunnery, while Inafune Kitauji was the legitimate heir of the famous Inafune Ichimusai—his house too being one of the foremost families in artillery across the land.

Even the shogunate had regretted the extinction of these two prestigious houses, issuing an unofficial decree: they would grant a five-year period for both families to refine their disputed technique of firing fifty five-kanme projectiles, have them demonstrate their skills before the Shogun, and permit restoration of family honor to whoever succeeded in firing fifty five-kanme projectiles.

Inoue Hanjuro Masakage, son of Geki, and Inafune Kizaburo, son of Kitauji, had maintained a friendship as inseparable as fish and water—completely unaware of their fathers’ feud—until it became public knowledge. Moreover, Kizaburo’s sister Shigeyo had been betrothed to Hanjuro. But once their fathers’ murderous clash occurred, both friendship and love were utterly shattered.
The whereabouts of Inafune Kizaburo and his sister remained utterly unknown thereafter, but Inoue Hanjuro alone secluded himself for five years at Kunimoto Village in Ōmi Province—the burial ground of his ancestors—devoting his young life to perfecting Inoue-ryu gunnery.

“Such being the case—with but two months remaining until September 13th of this fifth year—the secret scroll of Inoue-ryu gunnery that my father Inoue Geki devoted himself to perfecting now contains my five years of research within this divided luggage. Would you still call it unreasonable to claim these belongings are irreplaceable both to myself and to the world?”

Inoue Hanjuro Masakage—who did not even know how to conceal things—pointed to the divided luggage Oshizu had retrieved for him and spoke thus.

"So—with these five years of innovations—can you now execute the firing of fifty five-kanme projectiles without fail, Lord Inoue?"

Oshizu’s breath caught involuntarily.
Her knee that had involuntarily leaned forward—she gently pressed down the red undergarment that threatened to spill out.

“My five years of toil went into perfecting the spiral screw mechanism for the large cannon’s breech block. When previous cannons fired five-kanme projectiles using strong gunpowder, their breech blocks would rupture after a single shot—but now that concern is gone—yet...”

Inoue Hanjuro’s face clouded over abruptly.
Even if the large cannon’s breech block was secure, Hanjuro—who had inherited the Inoue family’s gunsmithing heritage from Ōmi and possessed the ferocious power required for fifty-volley shots—harbored no confidence in the formulation of gunpowder.

Oshizu or Shigeyo?

“Though Japan be vast, there exists but one maker of gunpowder capable of firing five-kanme projectiles fifty rounds out and piercing the bullseye—Inafune—”

Inoue Hanjuro knew full well.
The only ones capable of producing such gunpowder were the descendants of Master Ichimusai—Kitauji and Inafune Kizaburo—and none other.

“Oh, there’s no need for you to worry about such things. Something good may yet happen while you’re on your way to Edo.”

As Oshizu said this and clapped her hands—likely having been instructed beforehand—the inn’s maid brought in what appeared to be the best meal they could muster along with sake flasks and cups.

“What’s this?”

Setting it before the astonished Inoue Hanjuro Masakage,

“Oh, do partake of your meal.”

Oshizu picked up the sake flask herself.
The birthmark on her cheek turned away from the lamplight, leaving visible to Hanjuro only a gently swirling dimple and her left eye—clear as water—that somehow possessed a beauty even bordering on nobility.

“Lady Oshizu, you were said to have been born in Edo-Koishikawa—but might you not actually be from Hongo instead?”

Hanjuro raised his cup.
This woman’s face—a beauty both resplendent and profound lurking beneath its allure, the repulsive red birthmark and the purity concealed behind her chipped front teeth—there was something utterly unforgettable about it.

“No, I was born in Dairokuten in Koishikawa and raised in Enshū—Oh my, if you keep staring at my face like that...”

Oshizu held one sleeve like a visor and girlishly hid the area around her birthmark.

“Now then, Lady Oshizu—I shall dine alone. How about you take a bath during that time? It would refresh your weariness and surely lift your spirits.”

“What about you, Lord Inoue?”

“Once sake settles in the stomach, bathing becomes unnecessary. I shall abstain—and besides...”

Inoue Hanjuro Masakage glanced back at the divided luggage with a wry twist of his lips.

The Inoue-ryu artillery secret scroll would not leave his presence for even an instant.

“Then by your leave.”

Oshizu bowed with formal precision before retreating toward the bathing chambers.

For a brief while, a suspicious thought clung to Inoue Hanjuro Masakage.
The woman who had not only retrieved his crucial luggage but also offered extravagant goodwill by providing travel funds to Edo—though he harbored no particular suspicion—he simply couldn’t shake the feeling that he had seen her somewhere before.
Even if he had no memory of that fearsome red birthmark, the clarity of her beautiful voice and those profound black eyes held an unforgettable allure.

“I apologize for the wait.”

Oshizu emerged from the bath and entered with a gust of fragrant wind.

“Ah!”

Inoue Hanjuro Masakage involuntarily let out a sound.

On her lightly made-up face, the red birthmark burned like fire, emphasizing the ugliness of one half while rendering the beauty of the left half incomparable. But what startled Hanjuro was not this contrast—it was how this woman’s face, washed clean in the bath and flushed with passion, now bore an uncanny resemblance to Shigeyo, his former betrothed: that Shigeyo who had been daughter of Inafune Kitauji and sister to Kizaburo.

Marriage alliances between samurai families were terrifyingly ceremonious affairs. Though Inoue Hanjuro and Shigeyo were betrothed, they had merely caught fleeting glimpses of each other two or three times in passing—as young people do, their hearts may have burned with mutual longing—yet theirs was a relationship where they had neither formally met nor exchanged a single word.

But this resemblance was likely nothing more than a coincidental likeness—Shigeyo would never have two chipped front teeth, and above all, such an unsightly birthmark could not possibly have marred her jade-like forehead and cheeks within a mere five or six years.

“Lady Oshizu.”

“Yes?”

“Might you have once been called Lady Shigeyo?”

“Oh, Lord Inoue, whose name might that be?”

“No—it’s nothing.”

Inoue Hanjuro Masakage set down his cup and abruptly crossed his arms.

“Shigeyo—what a lovely name that is. If I were that Shigeyo, how delighted I would be.”

The woman who had quietly approached took up the sake flask as if drawing near to Inoue Hanjuro Masakage.

“There is still sake left. Please enjoy yourself, Lord Inoue.”

Showing her beautiful cheek, her free hand gently came to rest on Hanjuro’s knee—the warmth from her bath permeated through the kimono like hot iron against the man’s skin.

“No, no.”

Hanjuro shook his head and picked up the cup.
Kizaburo’s sister Shigeyo—renowned for both talent and beauty—could never possess such coquettishness.

The woman stole the secret scroll and

The next morning, Hanjuro awoke to the clamor of the post road and was shocked to see the divided luggage—which should have been drawn close beside his bed.

“Ah!”

The Sanada cords binding them had been untied, and both bundles had been thoroughly ransacked.

When he frantically checked, the Inoue-ryu artillery secret scroll—more precious than life itself—was nowhere to be found.

“It’s gone.”

Overwhelmed by the situation, he remained dazed for a while, staring blankly in all directions. Finally regaining his senses, he clapped his hands wildly—whereupon the innkeeper and maid came rushing over in a panic.

“What has happened, sir?”

“A thief broke in! As you can see—they ransacked the luggage and stole something irreplaceable to me! Quickly—you must report this to the inn officials and retrieve it!”

Inoue Hanjuro Masakage stood up and sat down repeatedly, peered into the corridor, and looked outside from the railing.

“That cannot be possible, sir—though I kept diligent watch at the front desk all night, and there were no issues with the locks. What exactly do you claim was stolen? Gold coins?”
“Or perhaps small gold pieces?”

When he said it was more important than life, the innkeeper seemed convinced that money had been stolen.

“No—it’s not that kind of thing! It’s an important document—a secret scroll!”

“That is most regrettable.”

Even as he said this, the innkeeper’s expression showed relief that it wasn’t money—

“What happened to my companion? —And Lady Oshizu, who was resting in the next room?”

In the midst of this commotion, Oshizu had not shown her face—it must have been then that he suddenly recalled her.

“That person—she has just departed.”

“What?!”

“Please convey my regards to the master—I must hurry ahead,” she said. “However, she did pay extra lodging fees for both of you. Oh, we’re most grateful.”

——

A terrible suspicion welled up within Inoue Hanjuro Masakage’s chest.

“She also said—‘Please abandon your journey to Edo and return to Kōshū’—to you, sir.”

“That woman!”

If they had gone so far as to deliver such elaborate instructions, then the one who stole the Inoue-ryu artillery secret scroll must be none other than that woman—Oshizu.

“Did something happen to that person?”

"That woman must have stolen the scroll! Then—it’s her after all?"

Oshizu was a false name—her true identity being Inafune Kizaburo’s sister and his former fiancée, Shigeyo. This must have been Shigeyo concealing herself from the world.

At her brother Kizaburo’s behest—to steal the Inoue-ryu artillery secrets—she must have even employed two underlings to carry out such a scheme. That damned woman—Hanjuro involuntarily clenched his fist and rose to his feet.

“Now that you mention it, there is something strange. Until last night before retiring, half her face bore such an awful red birthmark—but when we saw her departing this morning, there wasn’t a single blemish...not even a mole.”
“Oh—she was such a beautiful person.”

The maid’s story was strange.

“Is that true?” Inoue Hanjuro Masakage demanded.

“It was likely a birthmark drawn with paint. Her appearance had changed so drastically that—well—she said, ‘The roads being perilous, I altered my guise while journeying, but from here my home lies near enough to discard such artifices.’ How beautiful she was after washing off the red paint—I truly wished you could have seen it.”

Ignoring the maid’s explanation, Inoue Hanjuro Masakage hurriedly prepared for his journey. From this point onward, he had to pursue that woman relentlessly and reclaim the Inoue-ryu artillery secret scroll.

“Where did the woman go?”

Instead of his morning meal, he had them prepare three or four rice balls and rushed to the gate like a startled bird—Hanjuro stared helplessly at the highway stretching up and down before him.

“I believed she was bound for Edo—but it seems she turned left onto the Futamata Highway.”
Fortunately, the curious maid—intrigued by the traveler’s transformed appearance—had watched from the gate until Oshizu’s figure disappeared down the road.

“Thank you—how many ri is it to Futamata?”

“I would say five or six ri.”

“What lies beyond that?”

“This serves as a shortcut to Lord Akiha. Beyond that lies Iida in Shinano Province.”

Inoue Hanjuro was no longer listening.

As if manipulated by a single mysterious thread, he raced northward along the morning Futamata Highway, unswervingly focused on his path.

A Heart Suspended in Pursuit

The secret scroll of Inoue-ryu artillery—compiled by his father Inoue Geki Masatsugu, born into a prestigious gunsmith family of Ōmi Province who dedicated his life’s work to its creation, and further refined over five years by Hanjuro, a genius no less than his father, who poured his heart and soul into its improvements—being more precious than life itself held no mystery whatsoever.
If he succeeded in firing fifty five-kanme projectiles at the official demonstration now just two months away, the Inoue family would be restored to their original 1,000-koku stipend—and depending on circumstances, might even attain the prestigious position of Master Cannoneer, entrusted with overseeing the shogunate’s large cannons.
To have fallen into a meticulously laid trap on this journey of supreme filial duty—avenging his wrongfully killed father, restoring the once-ruined Inoue family, and setting foot upon the ladder of advancement—only to have the “secret scroll” stolen by enemy hands must have left Inoue Hanjuro Masakage with a grief beyond tears.

Treading on dew-laden roadside grass, the heart raced ahead—but no matter how far he went, there appeared no sign of Oshizu or Shigeyo.

“Did a woman around twenty-four or twenty-five—one appearing to be of samurai lineage—pass through here?”

Each time he encountered someone along the way, Hanjuro asked again and again.

“Oh, that beautiful woman…? Then she went just about ten cho ahead.”

Everyone would say as much, but strangely, no matter how much he quickened his pace, there remained no sign of catching up.

As the sun climbed higher and hunger and fatigue accumulated little by little, Inoue Hanjuro Masakage’s agitation gradually intensified.
There was no doubt that I was pursuing the "Inoue-ryu artillery secret scroll," but what truly occupied my mind was not that technical volume—inscribed on gampi paper, backed with torinoko sheets, and bound in gold brocade—but rather Oshizu with her half-faced birthmark washed away—or rather Shigeyo, whose noble beauty defied mortal measure, the woman who had parted from me five years prior without ever dissolving the empty title of fiancée.

That Shigeyo—the same Shigeyo who five years prior had seemed so earnest yet aloof—having transformed into someone so gentle, worldly, alluring, even bearing a grudge—what an infuriating, yet reassuring change this was. Enemies remain enemies, fiancées remain fiancées—if we must part, then let us part properly—but first let me meet her once more as Shigeyo under her true name. Though last night’s intimate exchange had been but a means to steal the scroll, Inoue Hanjuro Masakage could not erase the memory—the tremble of a maiden’s heart he had felt through the warmth of her hand resting on his knee.

The deep anguish in her eyes—the soft allure of her voice—all of it coalesced into a single bewitchment that drew Hanjuro’s soul ever closer.
Shigeyo’s bare face—now cleansed of its red birthmark—had become a charm ten times greater than the Inoue-ryu artillery secret scroll, tugging at him insistently.

He arrived at Futamata around noon. As he stood considering whether she had gone upstream along the Tenryu River from here, taken the rightward shortcut toward Mount Akiha, or turned left toward Kiga, there were two or three boys by the fork in the road playing at cooking.

“A woman traveler around twenty-four or twenty-five must have passed through—tell me where she went.”

Inoue Hanjuro Masakage calmly addressed them,

“She went up the Tenryu.”

The snot-nosed boy answered.

“Go upstream”—would a boy use such a stiff word?

“You’re lying.”

Inoue Hanjuro Masakage involuntarily loomed with ferocity.

“I ain’t lyin’! She—she’s the one who told me to say that!”

When he saw the glint of a small coin in the speaking boy’s palm, it became clear: Oshizu’s Shigeyo, knowing Hanjuro pursued her, had made the village children give false directions.

“There, there.”

Inoue Hanjuro Masakage, without pressing further, proceeded directly toward Komyo Village, taking the shortcut to Mount Akiha.

From this point onward, Hanjuro’s chest surged with premonition.
Whether real or imagined, he began to feel as though he caught glimpses of a young woman’s retreating figure—in the shadows of bushes ahead, through gaps in the trees, around corners of farmhouses.

“Ah, Lady Shigeyo!”

He had finally caught up.
At the foothill path of Mount Komyo—a place where people rarely passed—he spotted Shigeyo walking five or six ken ahead.

“Ah!”

Shocked, Shigeyo turned around—her face, now devoid of the birthmark’s trace, shone clear and radiant,

“Wait. I have something to say.”

Hanjuro’s lunging hand was about to catch the woman’s obi when—

“What the hell’re you doin’, ya damn fool?!”

From the side rushed three travelers who looked like Edo natives, wedging themselves between them. Without listening to Hanjuro’s protests, they yanked out their travel swords and came slashing at him.

“This is madness! I’ve business with that woman! Stay out of this!”

He barely dodged and tried pursuing Shigeyo, but the three blades pressing from behind clung stubbornly, refusing to let him chase after her.

“What the hell are you blathering about? Messing with a traveling woman like some damn fool!”

All three proved unexpectedly skilled; Inoue Hanjuro Masakage found himself hard-pressed to fend them off.

Before long, the woman had vanished from sight.

By the time he finally drove off these assailants, not a trace of her remained in the area.

The Trap in Akiha's Depths

From Sanshokubo to Mount Akiha, he had indeed pursued the woman, but once he took to the mountain path beyond, night fell and he completely lost his bearings.

How many ri had he walked since morning? Having strayed into this mountain path and wandered for over two hours, Inoue Hanjuro Masakage—now utterly lost, with no notion of where he had come or which way to go—found himself sinking onto a roadside boulder. In the oil-thick darkness, he let out a hollow sigh.

Hanjuro had not overlooked the profound worry—different from the night before—that was etched on Shigeyo’s face when she glanced back earlier.

Though the secret scroll remained crucial, Hanjuro had become utterly resolved in a state of mind where—without meeting Shigeyo once more and hearing her true intentions—there was nowhere to direct this desperation.

The star-filled sky gradually grew vivid, and from the grasses all around came the sound of insects like a bubbling spring—the loneliness of early autumn seeped deep into bone and marrow.

"Oh?"

In the distance, atop a mountain peak, he saw a light flickering.

Inoue Hanjuro Masakage finally felt a sense of salvation.
Though his mind and body were utterly exhausted like cotton, when he came to his senses, he realized he had been wandering aimlessly, drawn by Shigeyo's phantom, without having eaten a single meal since noon.

Pushing through thickets, parting the groves, crushing rocky edges underfoot—from there to the light was merely about ten chō. Hanjuro advanced half-crawling.
Even if it were a bandit hideout, the comfort of having nothing left to steal—if he could reach that place, he thought he might at least receive the kindness of a meal.

The light was now about ten ken ahead.
The feet that had instinctively burst into a dash were suddenly snatched away.

“Ah!”

In such mountains, a rope had been strung, a trap laid.

“We’ve got him!”

What came scattering forth were what he thought to be rough mountain men—but no! Three or four samurai of capital bearing rushed in, and they bound Inoue Hanjuro Masakage tightly as he crawled about, struck down and unable to rise.

“What are you doing?! I am Inoue Hanjuro Masakage of Ōmi Province! I have no intention of being taken into custody!”

Hanjuro strained his voice in grief and indignation, but it was no use.

“Shut up! We knew exactly who you were—Inoue Hanjuro Masakage—when we bound you! We ain’t saying we’ll boil you alive... yet!”

With a sharp crack from the rope’s end striking him, they hauled the trussed-up Hanjuro toward the lamplight.
The source of that leaking light was a crudely built wooden hut atop a mountain near Monketa Mountain in Akiha’s deepest recesses—a mysterious place rarely approached by humans, surrounded by dense forest.

“Master! The quarry has fallen into the trap!”

The ones calling out from outside were the three or four samurai who had taken Hanjuro away,

“That brings no shame to us.”

The figure emerging fully from within while bearing a single sword proved unexpectedly youthful—the crisp folds of his kimono turned from the lamplight revealing a bearing ill-suited to mountain habitation.

“Then I take my leave—tonight I shall make for Suruga and race back to Edo at dawn’s first light to report these developments to our master in Ushigome.”

“We’ll arrange a proper demonstration. The great cannons firing fifty five-kanme shot will be completed without fail—two to Suruga, five to Edo, two to Kyoto, all shipped by water.”

“The timeframe?”

“Early September at latest—we’ll forge one prototype by August’s end for test firing on this peak. You’ll secure the silver reserves during this interval—every last detail falls to you.”

“Understood.”

“Farewell.”

The three or four samurai left Hanjuro—still bound—on the rain-soaked veranda and departed to parts unknown after exchanging cryptic words.

Your large cannon—my gunpowder.

“Inoue Hanjuro Masakage, it’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

The master of the remaining hermitage pushed open one of the storm shutters and brought his face into the lamplight.
The doubts that had swirled in Hanjuro’s chest since earlier resolved themselves at once when he saw the master’s face.

“Oh—so it’s you after all.”

“Right—I’m Inafune Kizaburo.”

The two stood rigidly facing each other across the lamp.

The master, Kizaburo, was around thirty years old—in stark contrast to Hanjuro’s delicate, fair-skinned, intellectual appearance—with a slightly strained face, sharp eyes, a swarthy complexion, and prominent cheekbones; a man of imposing stature whose very bearing suggested he would stop at nothing to achieve his ambitions.

“You knew it was Inoue Hanjuro Masakage and still had me captured, Inafune?”

“Precisely.”

“Isn’t this dishonorable?”

Hanjuro suddenly glared.
His exhausted body had been tightly bound, every joint aching as if creaking apart—but even more than that physical pain, fury surged in his chest at his former comrade Kizaburo for capturing him through such underhanded means.

“It might be cowardly—but it’s a means to avoid mutual injury. Come now, forgive me, Hanjuro.”

Kizaburo’s face was as expressionless as nighttime water.

“Is this the act of an old friend reunited after five years? Inafune, have you no shame?”

“Old friends? —Ah, right, there was such a time. But Inoue, now our fathers killed each other. Aren’t we sworn enemies? Between you and me, there should be no such thing as friendship left.”

“Even without friendship, there should be shame—if you call yourself a samurai, how can you remain unperturbed after using your sister to steal the ‘Inoue-ryu artillery secret scroll’?”

“——”

“With the artillery demonstration before the shogun approaching in two months—do you think making your sister play the whore to steal their ‘secret scroll’ will suffice for victory? Have you no shame, you cur?”

Inoue Hanjuro Masakage, still bound, inched up onto the veranda and glared with tearful grief and indignation.

“You don’t understand my true intentions, Inoue.”

“What do I care about a coward’s true intentions? You may find that satisfactory, but Lady Shigeyo—used as a tool for her brother’s despicable ambitions, forced to act like a shameless whore—do you think a woman’s heart can endure such things?”

“——”

Inafune Kizaburo silently watched Inoue Hanjuro Masakage’s explosive rage. It was truly perplexing how Kizaburo’s bold face—arms crossed proudly even as he endured such scathing insults and humiliation—showed not a trace of remorse.

From the adjacent room came the sound of a woman’s stifled sobs—having been called a whore scrounging for clients by her former betrothed Hanjuro, Shigeyo must have felt her very existence had been shattered. The choked-back sobs, torn apart by intense emotion, sounded poignantly unrelenting.

“Inoue—while what you say holds some truth, through our years of acquaintance you should know this Inafune Kizaburo is no such coward.”

Kizaburo quietly began speaking.

“You call this not cowardly?”

Gazing at his own bonds—the shameful sight of himself tightly trussed in crisscrossed bindings—Hanjuro gave a shrug.

“Now listen, Inoue—this Inafune Kizaburo doesn’t trouble himself over such petty matters as our fathers’ feud.”

“What?”

“First off, I’ve not the slightest intention of participating in this September 13th artillery demonstration.”

“——”

“My ambitions lie elsewhere—I’ll elaborate later—but Inoue, you were born into the renowned gunsmith family of Ōmi. Having inherited your ancestors’ mantle in firearmsmithing, you should have completed a large cannon capable of firing fifty five-kanme projectiles.”

“——”

“I’ve had my spies infiltrate Ōmi and investigated every last detail.”
“The design of the male and female parts in your large cannon’s breech block—that’s masterful work, Inoue—”

Due to the sheer audacity of it all, Inoue Hanjuro Masakage was left speechless for a while.

“But—you’ve splendidly built the large cannon, yet do you truly believe you can create gunpowder powerful enough to fire fifty five-kanme projectiles fifty chō into the distance?”

“——”

“Though I say this with humility as a descendant of Inafune Ichimusai, I’ve successfully created powerful gunpowder for fifty-chō shots. Yet tragically, the breech block won’t hold—when my strong powder is used, the Inafune-ryu cannon’s breech shatters into splinters.”

Inoue Hanjuro Masakage was also well aware of the delicate relationship between them.
But what exactly was Inafune Kizaburo, who had brought this up, scheming?

“If we use my Inafune-ryu strong gunpowder in your Inoue-ryu large cannon, firing fifty five-kanme projectiles should be effortless.”

“——”

“I had Shigeyo steal your ‘Secret Scroll’ to test my strong gunpowder in your large cannon. As for luring you here and capturing you through what may seem a cowardly trap—it was to borrow your expertise until the Inoue-ryu large cannon’s test firing is complete. Written instructions alone are unreliable, wouldn’t you agree?”
“Now, Inoue.”

Inafune Kizaburo declared with audacity—though his true intentions remained unclear—and laughed it off with a dry cackle.

“——”

Inoue Hanjuro Masakage could only bite his lip in bitter frustration; the weeping from the adjacent room gradually weakened as the sound of insects enveloped it.

The large cannon was completed.

For a little over a month after that, days of uncanny strangeness continued in the mountains.

Inoue Hanjuro Masakage was confined to a storage-shed-like single room, occasionally brought out to assist with casting the large cannon's breech block, but mostly kept under surveillance by three ferocious men—the thought of escape never once occurring to him.

Shigeyo washed off the crimson-drawn birthmark and returned to her former, breathtaking beauty—yet perhaps from shame and fear over that night's deception of Hanjuro, she scarcely showed herself thereafter. Even when their faces met by chance through some carelessness, she would flutter away into hiding, doing naught but deepen Hanjuro's anguish.

But with a lover’s keen perception, Hanjuro could not help but sense the profound and merciless anguish etched across Shigeyo’s face and entire being. Whenever an opportunity to approach arose—though driven by the impulse to whisper just one word: “Forgive me”—Hanjuro’s common sense and dignity desperately restrained that surging passion.

The furnace built in the valley under the guise of a charcoal kiln was completed through less than a month of painstaking effort. Day after day, the copper and iron ingots brought in by unknown warriors and laborers were melted, cast, and forged, gradually giving form to the Inoue-ryu five-kanme cannon.

For Inoue Hanjuro Masakage, observing this process was by no means an unpleasant experience.
When it became clear that he lacked confidence in the strong gunpowder, he completely forgot about the September 13th official demonstration and became wholly consumed as Hanjuro—a master craftsman single-mindedly honing his skills toward completing the Inoue-ryu large cannon.

“It’s done!”

It was mid-August when Inoue Hanjuro Masakage raised a cry of joy—the large bronze cannon for firing five-kanme projectiles was magnificently mounted on an oak artillery mount.

“Splendid—this settles it. Now then, Inoue, there’s no longer any chance of the breech block shattering, I trust?”

Inafune Kizaburo asked again.

“Absolutely, there’s no need for concern. This cannon embodies the Inoue-ryu’s secret techniques to their fullest—if it can’t fire five-kanme projectiles, I’ll stake my life on it without hesitation.”

“That puts my mind at ease. However...there remains a minor condition. You’ll stay bound until the test firing concludes.”

Inafune Kizaburo said something strange.

“What nonsense, Inafune!”

Inoue Hanjuro had no chance to resist. The two rough men who had been assisting there—joining forces with Inafune Kizaburo—bound Hanjuro in the blink of an eye. Though he possessed some arm strength, Hanjuro’s frail and delicate frame could offer no resistance against three burly men.

“That will suffice. You two, go observe the target area. We’ll fire in exactly one koku (two hours). Do not approach too closely—you’ll risk injury.”

“Understood.”

The two assistants—rough men who were neither quite samurai nor woodsmen—bowed politely and departed toward the target area on the distant ridge.
It was said to be fifty chō across the valley, though the actual walking distance must have been over two ri.
For a while, the two men faced each other in silence.
With the enormous cannon mounted on the artillery mount between them—Inoue Hanjuro Masakage bound and Inafune Kizaburo fretting over the test firing’s results—they gazed across an early autumn mountain at the pale target area in the distance, each nursing separate thoughts.

From behind the hut immediately behind them, a pale face occasionally peered out. Over the past month, Shigeyo—who had rarely shown herself before Hanjuro—was likely drawn by this atmosphere, as tense as gunpowder and charged with impending climax, to discreetly observe the two men’s movements.

“Inoue.”

“——”

Kizaburo adopted a formal tone of speech.

"Inoue. There's something I must say before the test firing—a matter of life and death. Will you hear me out?"

“——”

The Hidden Intent of Rebellion

“It’s nothing else—five years ago now, our respective fathers clashed over gunnery matters until their dispute escalated, and they cut each other down on the spot.”
“Though it was indeed a breach of samurai conduct, at its root, their dispute stemmed from considering the vital duties of artillery specialists and clashing over our mutual innovations—hardly circumstances warranting severe condemnation.”

Kizaburo began saying something strange.

“——”

“Yet the shogunate’s censure proved merciless—both the Inoue and Inafune houses were dissolved, stripped of samurai status and exiled. To restore our families’ honor, we’ve been driven to this—living like beasts deep in these mountains—”

Kizaburo’s voice trembled with tears.

“——”

“Is this not inhumane, Inoue?”

“——”

“Destroying the Toyotomi house, slaughtering innocent people, crushing the Katō, Fukushima, and other great and small lords—the Tokugawa clan’s lawless tyranny knows no bounds.”

“——”

“I’ve thoroughly lost any desire to eat the Tokugawa’s rice. Returning to service through gunnery is unthinkable—no, I’ve resolved to smash the Tokugawa shogunate itself with this large cannon in one decisive strike.”

“Inafune!”

Overwhelmed by the situation, Inoue Hanjuro Masakage found himself at a loss for words.

“Our leader Lord Yui Shōsetsu has established a dojo in Ushigome, wields influence surpassing even daimyo and noble houses, and nurtures thousands of disciples.”

“What?! Is that true?”

“Allies and comrades—as numerous as clouds. Moreover—though this is strictly confidential—Lord Yorinobu of Kishū, one of the Three Houses’ finest minds, has secretly pledged his support. We are on the verge of raising our banner.”

“——”

Inoue Hanjuro Masakage involuntarily tried to rise, but trussed up like a coiled rope and fastened to the artillery mount he had built, he could do nothing but watch this rebel before his eyes.

“The Inoue-ryu large cannon and Inafune-ryu gunpowder proved useful for that purpose. By combining these two secret techniques to cast seven large cannons and initiating actions across three locations—Kyoto, Sunpu, and Edo—the discontented daimyo will surely come riding the winds to join us. Once we destroy the Tokugawa and elevate our Lord Yui Shōsetsu to proclaim command over the realm, that day will not be far off—Inoue—do you understand?”

“You—traitor!”

Hanjuro struggled desperately, but the restraining ropes only grew tighter still.

“Cease your struggles! Your cannon’s hour of utility has arrived. Once we verify this large cannon can fire five-kanme projectiles—regrettable though it may be—we’ll have no further need for your life. It pains me to deny you witnessing Inafune Kizaburo seizing the realm, but coexistence between us proves impossible. To leave no lingering complications—I shall end you here.”

“You bastard!”

“However—I won’t kill you outright. There exists no better moment than now to test whether this breech block of your invented cannon can withstand a life-or-death trial. Fittingly, I’ll bind you to that very breech and fire five-kanme projectiles using Inafune-ryu’s vaunted strong gunpowder. Should the block rupture and reduce your body to dust—that becomes your own doing! Blame the cannon’s flaws, for you’ll find none else to resent. But if the breech holds and your life endures…—we’ll reconsider matters then.”

Inafune Kizaburo stepped closer, dragged Inoue Hanjuro—still bound in ropes—and forcibly bent the struggling man against the breech block of the large cannon he had loaded with five-kanme projectiles and strong gunpowder, now prepared to ignite its fuse.

“You coward—!”

Inoue Hanjuro Masakage snapped his bloodshot eyes open in a glare, but perhaps having considered the futility of resisting now, he closed them again.
There wasn’t even one chance in ten thousand of the breech block bursting—on that point Hanjuro brimmed with confidence—but once the five-kanme projectiles were fired, he would surely not be left alive.

That Inafune Kizaburo—this ambitious coward—having laid bare his rebellion plot would attempt to spare him was beyond all imagining.

“Listen well, Inoue. Resign yourself.”

The fuse’s acrid smell assaulted his nostrils.
When he opened his eyes, Kizaburo’s cheek loomed close—a sneering laugh swirling—and in those eyes glinted a cruel light, as if plucked from hell’s own flames.

The bullseye awaiting the piercing shot

“Honorable Brother.”

Unable to bear it any longer, Shigeyo forgot both shame and reputation and rushed out.
Frantically clinging to her brother’s hand, she barely managed to keep the fuse away from the ignition point,

“Out of the way! —Hanjuro’s your enemy too. Watch from there!”

He jerked back, but Shigeyo’s desperate strength proved unexpectedly formidable—she would not release her brother’s arm.

“Honorable Brother, this goes too far—! You said we must forget our parents’ grudge, combine the Inoue-ryu large cannon with Inafune-ryu gunpowder, and seize Lord Inoue’s scrolls to achieve the grand undertaking of firing fifty five-kanme projectiles for the realm’s sake—that Lord Inoue’s gunpowder lacks the force for fifty shots, but if we confronted him directly, the Inafune-ryu would never collaborate—I took those words as truth! I endured shame and stole the scrolls from Lord Inoue!”

Shigeyo’s face—steeped in sweat and tears—bloomed beneath the autumn sun like forced camellias in a hothouse.

“What?! Won’t you shut up?!”

“No, this goes too far—! You said that if we stole the scrolls, Lord Inoue would surely pursue us here—that we should lure him in, resolve the feud between our families, combine our strengths to create a fifty-shot large cannon, petition the shogunate, and restore both the Inoue and Inafune houses—!”
“I believed it all to be true—chipped two of my front teeth, even drew a birthmark on my face—I committed such shameful acts, convinced it would bring nothing but Lord Inoue’s happiness—”

Shigeyo’s words, soaked in tears, ceased for a time.

“What?! Won’t you stop—this is just a woman’s petty grievances! I’ve been contemplating far greater matters!”

“How could I have realized that was preparation for such an audacious rebellion? Ever since those people started coming and going—helping before and after I stole the secret scroll from Lord Inoue—I kept thinking none of it made sense.”

While pleading, Shigeyo desperately tried to snatch the fuse from her brother’s hand.

“What?! Out of the way! You fool! —The appointed hour is here!”

“Honorable Brother—please at least abandon this rebellion! If you forget even Lord Tokugawa’s three-generation benevolence and side with Yui, how our father in the afterlife must lament!”

“——”

“And Lord Inoue is also to be pitied.”
“The grudge between our parents should have been settled! I beg you—save Lord Inoue! Honorable Brother—*Honorable Brother*—return to the kindness you once had! For my sake, save Lord Inoue—I implore you!”

Shigeyo clung desperately to her brother’s neck, chest, and arms with tears, but her brother Kizaburo—ablaze with ambition and resentment—could not be stopped.

“Out of the way! Damn it!”

With a thunderous blast that sent his sister crumpling like a great peony in full bloom, the fuse swiftly moved and ignited the large cannon’s primer.

――Boooom――

The mountain air shook with a roaring detonation. Gazing through the smoke far across the valley, one soon saw it—a red flag fluttering above autumn grasses near the target on the distant peak, signaling the successful piercing of the bullseye.

“Ah! It hit! The five-kanme projectiles have successfully pierced the target fifty *cho* away!”

Kizaburo leapt for joy, while Shigeyo paid no heed to him,
“Lord Inoue—you’re unharmed—”

Crawling to the large cannon, she clung to Inoue Hanjuro Masakage—still bound to the breech block—who had suffered no injuries.

“Thank heavens—the large cannon is unharmed.”

Hanjuro’s face, more elated at the Inoue-ryu large cannon’s safety than at his own narrow escape, overflowed with joy even as he remained bound.

“Shigeyo, step back! Now that the large cannon has proven safe, Inoue Hanjuro Masakage has no further use.”

Inafune Kizaburo pushed his sister aside with his left hand, his right-hand sword glinting sharply in the autumn sun.

“Honorable Brother, that’s too far—!”
“This mouth must be silenced! Won’t you move?!”
To the nape of Inoue Hanjuro Masakage—who had closed his eyes in resignation—Kizaburo’s murderous blade descended again and again.
“Honorable Brother!”

How long would Shigeyo’s strength last as she kept struggling?
Shigeyo, gradually overwhelmed and now utterly drained of strength, suddenly noticed—

“Ah!”

Brother Kizaburo’s blade was already descending toward the throat of Inoue Hanjuro Masakage—still bound to the large cannon’s breech block—

Shigeyo had no time to think.
What her struggling hand touched was the fuse her brother had just discarded—coiled and smoldering faintly—which she swiftly threw without aiming.

All of this should be seen as heaven’s providence.
This thrown fuse had completely altered the situation.

The new wife’s name was Oshizu.

――Boom――

With a sound as though heaven and earth were collapsed, flames split the air before their eyes with a roar, and as white smoke—like massive bundles of cotton—billowed up from the earth, stones, trees, people, and clods of soil scattered in all directions at once.

The fuse that Shigeyo had thrown happened to fall into the gunpowder box filled with Inafune-ryu’s potent gunpowder.

When Shigeyo regained her senses a short while later, she saw that both the hut and the large cannon had been blown away—the mountain’s shape altered so drastically it seemed transformed. Afterwards, an eerie silence fell, and before she knew it, insect voices had revived all around.

“Ah!”

When she looked, her brother Kizaburo had been struck by a flying boulder and lay dead as a mere handful of flesh. Shigeyo remained dazed for a while, but coming to her senses, she attempted to rouse Inoue Hanjuro Masakage, who had tumbled down from the artillery mount alongside the large cannon and now lay sprawled in the grass. Though bound and having lost consciousness due to being in the shadow of the large cannon, this had instead kept his life unharmed.

The water she had hurriedly scooped up, she let him take just a little,

“Lord Inoue.”

When she called out, he finally opened his eyes.

“Oh—Lady Shigeyo.”

The rope had come undone at some point. Hanjuro looked around in a daze.

“My brother was struck by a stone and died.”
“Lord Inoue.”

“Wh—”

When he looked back, there lay Inafune Kizaburo’s corpse—now a mass of blood and mud. Inoue Hanjuro Masakage involuntarily held his breath.

“I beg your forgiveness—that was never my true intention. And one more plea—please let my brother’s treasonous plot fade from your memory.”

“————”

“Lord Inoue—farewell. I, even now—”

In the blink of an eye, Shigeyo picked up her brother’s scattered sword and suddenly brought it to her own throat.

“Ah—Wait, Lady Shigeyo!”

“————”

“You must not die.—All of it has passed—grudges, shame, rebellion, everything—even him—”

Hanjuro mustered all his strength to raise his exhausted body and wrest the sword from Shigeyo’s hand.

Half an hour later, the two of them descended the mountain as if pursued.
They headed for the target location—before her brother’s comrades returned, they had to conceal themselves at all costs.

Hanjuro and Shigeyo entered Edo about ten days later, carrying the scrolls of Inoue-ryu and Inafune-ryu.
The official demonstration concluded successfully; Inoue Hanjuro Masakage was summoned before the authorities and later prospered as an artillery expert through his incorporation of Inafune-ryu techniques.

Around the time Yui Shōsetsu’s conspiracy was uncovered and his entire faction arrested, Inoue Hanjuro Masakage took a new wife.
No one knew her identity.
A woman of extraordinary beauty with two front teeth missing—Oshizu was her name.