Pathway to Japanese Literature

I

The cave was atop a cliff overlooking a ravine.
The ravine was deep, and because primeval forests on both banks—untouched by axes—stood dense with intertwined branches, sunlight only filtered through weakly for a brief moment at noon, casting faint stripes.
Moreover, a short distance upstream stood a large waterfall whose cascading spray perpetually drenched the cliff, threading crystal-like droplets one after another upon the trees' branches and leaves—so even in midsummer's height, the air remained bitterly cold. The cave opened toward that valley.
It measured about eight feet in height and only twenty feet in depth, but as its entrance faced southeast, it stayed relatively bright and dry.
The villagers called it "White Fox Cave."
Legend claimed approaching it invited unexpected calamity, and even disregarding such tales, reaching it required climbing a perilous path over five ri from the nearest village—thus human presence remained nearly absent in its vicinity.

On a day in early autumn, a young samurai ascended the ravine and came to stand before this cave.
Though called young, he must have been thirty—his well-defined chiseled cheeks and deep-set eyes with slightly downturned corners stood out distinctly.
He carried a large bulging mesh travel bag on his back and held a thickly folded scarlet woolen cloth in his left hand.
How arduous the path must have been—sweat streamed from his high prominent forehead down to his collar, and his straw sandals and tabi socks were worn to tatters like rags.

“Just as I’d imagined—this is exactly the kind of place.”
For a while he gazed at the deep forests on both banks and the bottomless ravine supported by the cliff, then muttered as he set down the load he had carried on his back: “Here I won’t be disturbed.”
He entered the cave and began to unpack the load.

That bright morning, as the gray dawn was just beginning to spread, the young samurai had already risen and was sitting in meditation near the cave entrance... Sturdy legs crossed in a half-lotus position, fingers interlaced and lightly pressed against his lower abdomen, he sat motionless with half-closed eyes fixed on the cave wall.
The roar of the great waterfall resonated through the ravine less as sound than as ceaseless vibration, while its mist-like swirling spray, caught in the occasional sudden gusts sweeping down, scattered from the trees' branches and leaves like white rain—droplets cascading in a chaotic shower.
...The young samurai quickly grew tired.

“Even just sitting here was difficult for this humble one.”

He stood up while muttering that. And twisting his neck, shrugging his shoulders, and swinging both arms, he loosened the stiffness in his muscles for a while. Then as if suddenly remembering, he pulled his travel bag close, took out two or three dried jujube fruits, and put them in his mouth.

The cave entrance was sparsely covered with grass, among which alpine gentians—each about an inch tall—bloomed here and there with delicate flowers. Though the flowers were small enough to fit on a fingertip, their deep purple—visible through the light—stood out vividly, bringing beautiful harmony to the damp, gloomy surroundings. And at midday, when faint stripes of sunlight filtered through, a lizard would come from somewhere and be seen warming itself motionlessly in the flower's shade. It was on the third day since his arrival that the young samurai discovered this. Day after day thereafter, whenever that midday hour arrived, his eyes would naturally be drawn in that direction, and he would find himself captivated for quite some time by the movements of that small creature. The season was already autumn; in that area where the sunlight grew weak and the air chilled, there were likely no others of its kind—doubtless the time had come for that lizard to enter its wintering hole. It still appeared youthful and bore beautiful stripes on its back, but its movements were sluggish and its eyes held an intensely languid gaze. When dappled stripes of sunlight spilled through and stained the alpine gentians a vivid purple, the lizard would crawl out from somewhere and settle itself beneath a particular flower as if by routine. It would close its round, bulging eyes in apparent bliss, bend its long tail tip limply, and remain utterly still beneath the faint sunlight.

“Hmm...”
One day, the young samurai muttered in surprise, “I wonder if Bodhidharma ever noticed such things—would he have ever been distracted by lizards?”

...That’s it.
After a while, he muttered again, “It’s the same thing. Whether one looks or not, the lizard comes. Even if Bodhidharma wasn’t distracted by it, there must still have been lizards crawling near him.”

A quiet smile formed on the young samurai's lips.
Days passed; his cheeks and jaw became covered with thick stubble, and his deep-set eyes sank ever deeper into their sockets.
By now he had grown accustomed to sitting in meditation and could remain seated motionless for over half a day.
His food consisted solely of dried jujube fruits and a small amount of dried rice to chew.
When night came, he would wrap himself in the scarlet woolen cloth and sleep directly on the jagged rock bed.
And one morning, winter's harbinger frost glistened whitely across the cave's entire exterior.

II

In October of the tenth year of Kanbun, Date Munetoshi, Great Master of the Palace Table and Lord of Uwajima, who had returned to his domain in Iyo Province for the first time as its daimyo, paid respects at his late father Hidemune’s grave and on the very next day held an audience with retainers at Tsurushima Castle.
Munetoshi had been born in this Uwajima during the seventeenth year of Kan’ei and was now returning after nearly twenty years away since departing for Edo at age eleven.
When his late father had first assumed office long ago, a ceremony attended by fifteen senior officials chosen by his grandfather Masamune and fifty-seven horsemen had lasted from eight in the morning until nearly noon; though an afternoon banquet followed, Munetoshi did not linger long at his seat but departed to walk through the garden accompanied solely by Kutsuki Daigaku.

Kutsuki Daigaku was Munetoshi’s tutor, now fifty-nine years old, who had become senior councilor when Munetoshi succeeded as family head last year.
He was a taciturn, small-statured old man who attended Munetoshi’s side like a shadow follows its form, yet his presence was so unobtrusive that one could scarcely tell whether he was there or not.
However, Munetoshi knew full well how strict he was as a tutor and how he would stake his life on any matter he undertook.

When they reached the second bailey, Munetoshi suddenly stopped before a grassland he recognized.

“This is where I used to leap about and play in those days.”
“This is where My Lord suffered injury to His eye.”
“That’s right.”

Now pressing his right eye that had lost its vision, Munetoshi suddenly looked up at the distant sky—a thing known to none.
It was the autumn when he was ten years old.
At that time, among the boys summoned to the castle as playmates was the son of the district magistrate—one Iketo Kojiro.
Though he was one year younger than Munetoshi, he was a genius called a child prodigy who excelled in both scholarship and martial arts, becoming nearly the sole focus of attention for the entire household.

To be honest, Munetoshi envied Kojiro; he hated this boy who garnered far more respect and admiration than he himself did as the lord’s son.
Despite this, Munetoshi most often chose him as his opponent.
Kojiro possessed some indefinable quality that drew people to him.
In the summer before moving to the Edo residence, Munetoshi commanded him to spar in swordsmanship.
They came out alone to this bailey’s grassland and fiercely struck at each other with practice swords.
Munetoshi, who had superior physical strength, had intended to thoroughly beat Kojiro down at that moment, but his opponent skillfully avoided the sharp strikes and kept evading.
Munetoshi grew irritated and finally attacked without regard for form or technique.
Kojiro—seeming to realize he couldn’t fully evade—abruptly readjusted his stance and charged forward, but in that moment, the tip of his practice sword struck Munetoshi’s right eye with terrible force.
Munetoshi let out a scream as he pressed both hands against his eye and rolled onto the grass; blood gushing from between his fingers stained half his face.
Even now, Munetoshi remembers it vividly.
Kojiro stood rigidly, his white parched lips parted and hollowed eyes wide open.
It was a face like that of a dementia patient.
His usual quick-witted, keenly sharp expression had completely vanished—crushed by terror and remorse—his face now bearing an almost idiotic blankness.

“Keep quiet.”
At that moment, Munetoshi commanded him.
“I will let it be known that I fell and injured myself, so you must not speak a word of what you did.”

The fact remained unknown to anyone.
And for the first time, Munetoshi felt superiority over Kojiro.
Even if Kojiro was called a child prodigy and gathered people’s praise however much he might, he could not escape from the favor he had received from Munetoshi.
Munetoshi felt as though he had seized the exceptional abilities that Kojiro possessed within his small palm.

Ah yes—it was here that I lost this eye.
As Munetoshi recalled the events of twenty years past, he suddenly realized he hadn’t seen Kojiro at today’s audience. Of those who used to come to the castle as playmates back then, four or five must still remain here.
"My Lord," came the response, "I believe there were indeed five individuals."

“I would like to reminisce about old times—see that they are all assembled to appear tomorrow.”

“Understood.”

While imagining what countenance Kojiro might present when appearing, Munetoshi suddenly raised his hand to his blinded eye.

The following day, only those who had once served as playmates gathered before Munetoshi.
Although they were all of similar age, none retained any trace of their former selves; every one of them had changed or aged beyond recognition.
But among them, Iketo Kojiro was not present.
When the various memories had been thoroughly discussed, Munetoshi inquired about Kojiro.
Then they exchanged strange, knowing smiles.

“If you mean Kojiro who was called the child prodigy, he has now succeeded to his family and goes by Hachirobei.”

“He has changed greatly in character—even were I to state the facts, I fear Your Lordship might not deign to believe them.”

“It’s truly rare to see someone change so drastically,” they began saying in unison.

III

“You say he’s changed—how exactly has he changed?”

“It’s difficult to explain in brief, but to put it plainly—he has become the complete opposite of when he was called a child prodigy. Though he inherited his house, he assumed no official post, and even after taking a wife...”

“Kakunosuke, mind your tongue.”

A man nearby, startled, tried to stop him.

“Enough—I’ll allow the breach of etiquette. Speak.”

“Ah, truly—this was... I let my tongue slip.”

Kaoka Kakunosuke appeared deeply troubled and fidgeted for some time，but when pressed by Munetoshi，he reluctantly began to speak.
Shortly after Munetoshi left for Edo，Kojiro’s demeanor suddenly began to change.
His razor-sharp cleverness disappeared；his movements gradually grew sluggish；the talent that had drawn such attention from the entire household faded into obscurity，until even his very existence was forgotten by people.
He came of age and took the name Hachirobei，then inherited the household at twenty-five when his father passed away.
However，Yasoshima Jiemon assumed the position of District Magistrate that had been his father’s former role，and he remained without official post thereafter.
Jiemon was a close friend of his deceased father and had two sons and two daughters，and his eldest daughter Ume and he had been betrothed by their parents.

The name Iketo Hachirobei—"Ah, so that child prodigy Kojiro?"—began to resurface in people's memories three years prior when his wedding to Ume took place.
The wedding was conducted auspiciously, but he did not allow Ume near him.
The couple continued living in separate buildings for over half a year.
In the end, Ume could no longer endure it and fled back to her parents' home. However, Jiemon would never permit such a thing; he immediately went himself to bring her back and confirmed Hachirobei's true intentions.
He showed no particular ulterior motives as he said—"Ume is truly a good wife. This humble one's inadequacies have caused you trouble."
Having said that, he took Ume back.

However, even after that, their life as a married couple continued in name only. When one thought he might hate Ume, that proved untrue either way—yet no one could fathom why he maintained such an unnatural existence. Precisely because he had been called a child prodigy, there lingered something distinctly different about him. Perhaps he harbored some physical defect? Or maybe he still clung to a childlike mind? Such speculations spread among the household members. Yet Hachirobei paid no heed whatsoever, spending his days in utter indifference and dazed detachment.

“I see. He has changed a great deal.”
Munetoshi listened with a bitter smile. “But why didn’t he come out with the others today?”

“Well, that…”
Kakunosuke hesitated slightly before replying, “In truth, he left home at the beginning of August and has since vanished without a trace.”

“His whereabouts are unknown—what is the reason for this?”

“I cannot fathom what happened—he left one day without warning and there’s been no word whatsoever. We confirmed through the checkpoints that he didn’t cross domain borders, and the household members divided their efforts to search everywhere, but his whereabouts remain impossible to ascertain.”

The beginning of August marked when Munetoshi’s first return as lord had been announced. Having listened with half-hearted amusement until now, he was suddenly struck by this connection—Could it be that hiding himself away was too painful for him, having to face me with my blinded eye?
It wasn’t an impossibility—for even if accidental, he had caused his lord to lose an eye.
Back then he had been a boy, and their swift parting had spared them both—but now, having to stand before his blinded lord once more must surely be agonizing.

“If it has been confirmed he hasn’t crossed domain borders—”
Munetoshi said upon concluding the audience, “Immediately make arrangements with the necessary number of men and conduct a search. It’s improper for someone—even without official post—to vacate their residence without notification. Find him at once.”

By Munetoshi's side was Kutsuki Daigaku.
While listening to all the topics being discussed, he did not interject a single word and maintained a quiet silence throughout.

The search for Hachirobei was immediately initiated.
However, that rumor became overshadowed by a major domain governance issue that arose next.
In Uwajima, since the previous year, they had been conducting domain-wide land surveys.
Since the previous lord Hidemune’s investiture—when Yoshida territory was partitioned in the first year of Manji (1658), establishing a seventy-thousand-koku domain—no survey had been conducted on these numerous newly cultivated rice fields despite their significant expansion.
Moreover, Uwajima’s land measurements had followed the old six-shaku-three-sun pole method that naturally required revision to a six-shaku standard; thus began new land surveys and investigations into untaxed fields developed through reclamation.
However, the peasants interpreted this survey as a pretext for imposing heavier taxes and launched a coordinated opposition movement.
Among them, Ando Yajiemon—village headman of Kawachi Village—alongside his clan most stubbornly resisted the surveys, even clashing with officials dispatched to conduct measurements.

This will become a peasant uprising.

Such an atmosphere had come to weigh heavily over the entire domain.

IV

Hachirobei was discovered amidst that turmoil.
He was found at the "White Fox Cave" in the depths of Onigajō Mountain seven ri south of the castle town, reached by ascending the deep ravine of the Namekura River.
He had been sitting in zazen within the cave and was utterly emaciated from hunger and cold, barely managing to return by being carried on a foot soldier’s back.
This occurred just as peasants were on the verge of launching an uprising centered around Kawachi Village, and Munetoshi had no time to concern himself with matters like Hachirobei, devoting himself day and night to preventing the disturbance before it could erupt.

After returning home, Hachirobei recuperated for a little over ten days and, having seemingly regained his vigor, submitted a formal request before proceeding to the castle; upon seeing him, Munetoshi was astonished to find that the very image of Kojiro from those days remained intact.

"You were at White Fox Cave, I hear."
Without waiting for the greeting to conclude, Munetoshi said, “You knew of my return, yet hid yourself away in such a place without welcoming me—do you not consider this impertinent? …Or was there some particular reason?”

“I deeply apologize for my carelessness. A sudden notion came to this humble one, so I departed resolved to return before your lordship’s homecoming. Yet the matter I committed myself to proved stubbornly unyielding.”

“What did you conceive?”

“Well… if I may speak… I fear…”
Hachirobei stroked his knee with apparent embarrassment. “For my lord will surely mock it.”

“A matter worthy of others’ ridicule?”

“Everyone laughs at me, so no one would seriously listen—I was at a loss. In truth, this humble one wished to understand what Bodhidharma achieved through his nine years of wall-facing. Surely my lord must be aware of this matter?”

“What of it?”

“Through nine years of wall-facing—what did Bodhidharma attain? This suddenly became something I wished to know—does my lord comprehend this?”

“I don’t know—what say you, Daigaku?”

Munetoshi turned back laughing.
Kutsuki Daigaku wordlessly studied Hachirobei’s face.

“No matter whom I entreated—all merely laughed at me; thus finding no recourse left—I resolved to make trial of it myself and withdrew into seclusion at White Fox Cave.”

“So you’ve understood Bodhidharma’s enlightenment?”

“Haa…”

“That’s absurdly quick, isn’t it? How did you come to understand?”

Hachirobei remained silent for a moment before answering in the same flat tone.

“After nine years of wall-facing, when Bodhidharma rose from his lotus position, he is said to have declared thus: ‘Indeed, merely glaring at a wall will not bore a hole through it.’”

“What? Say it again once more.”

“Merely glaring at it,” he repeated, “…will not bore a hole through the wall—that is what he is said to have declared.”

Munetoshi burst out laughing.
The more earnestly he spoke, the more absurd and nonsensical the words seemed.
Munetoshi laughed at the strange contrast between Hachirobei’s earnest expression and the foolishness of his words, even forgetting Daigaku’s presence.
At that moment, had he noticed Daigaku’s sharp expression as the old man gazed at Hachirobei’s face, he surely would not have laughed in such a manner.

“He has become utterly worthless.”
After Hachirobei withdrew, Munetoshi openly displayed his disappointment and said, “They say every person has one flowering season in their life, but Hachirobei may have already bloomed his lifetime’s flower by age ten. If that’s how it stands, there’s truly nothing left to do.”

Daigaku still remained silent.
It was then that Munetoshi first noticed the old man’s eyes watching him accusingly.

“Daigaku does not share that view.”
The old man spoke in a low, quiet voice; it carried a severity of tone not heard in many years.
Munetoshi, feeling as though the mat beneath his feet had been pulled out, averted his eyes from the old man.

The peasants' restive movements finally developed into an uprising four or five days after that.
The core remained Ando Yajiemon of Kawachi Village, with over six hundred people from fifteen neighboring villages forming a faction that barricaded themselves on Takano-su Mountain. Raising rush mat banners and armed with bamboo spears, mountain swords, and hunting guns, they now showed readiness to advance upon the castle town.
……The opinions within the castle split into two.
Those from the home province were hardline, advocating sending troops to crush them.
However, Munetoshi and those who had come from Edo, wary of the shogunate’s oversight, insisted on adhering strictly to peaceful methods.
Thus, as both sides remained locked in debate, an incident occurred at Takano-su Mountain that would abruptly shift the course of the disturbance.

Five

A short time before this, at the Iketo residence, Hachirobei—having returned from his outing—unusually ordered sake despite it being midday, and the couple sat facing each other alone in the parlor.
Ume was twenty-three years old, with a petite build, eyelids that appeared slightly swollen, lips of vivid color, and a countenance that still retained a certain maidenly freshness.

“You drink too.”
After taking a sip from the sake cup, Hachirobei said this and handed the cup to his wife; Ume received it while looking up at her husband with eyes full of resolve.
“I have just visited your honored father-in-law.”
Ume’s father, Yasoshima Jiemon, was the district magistrate and had been overseeing this land survey; Ume seemed to have understood what her husband intended to say from that single statement.
“Therefore I shall now go to Takano-su Mountain. This will likely conclude my service. Though three years have passed since you came to our household, I could do nothing for you. While ours has been truly an unfortunate match, I ask you to resign yourself to this unlucky twist of fate.”

"You honor me too much. If anything, I..."
Ume smiled and raised her eyes.
Yet her lips quivered as she fought to contain her emotions. "If anything, I have been the clumsy wife who only ever hindered you in various matters. Please forgive me..."

"They say a couple spans two lifetimes."
Hachirobei abruptly took his wife’s hand. "In the next life, let us become true husband and wife."

Over three years had passed since her marriage, yet this was the first time she touched her husband’s hand, the first time she heard words flowing with lifeblood. If it were possible to prolong this moment even slightly, she would not have regretted staking her seven lives. Ume was desperately suppressing the sobs rising within her while screaming those words in her heart.

“Then I shall take my leave.” Hachirobei set down the sake cup.
“I pray for your success.”
Ume could no longer raise her face.

Hachirobei rode out from the residence on horseback.
At the outskirts of the castle town, Yasoshima Jiemon waited on horseback with fifteen subordinates; there were also about fifty foot soldiers armed with firearms, and together they set out toward Kawachi Village.

Takano-su Mountain formed part of the Onigajo massif, its gentle slopes densely cloaked with pine and cedar. As Hachirobei led the vanguard, he spotted bonfire smoke and crowds scrambling in confusion across the mountain's base. At that moment—through some trick of association—the image of that striped lizard he'd found sheltering beneath alpine gentians during his White Fox Cave seclusion flashed before him like an apparition. That creature too must have withdrawn into its winter den by now. Yet even as this thought surfaced, he felt perplexed—why would such a memory arise now of all times?

“Please wait here.”
When they came to a small earthen bridge, Hachirobei said this and dismounted his horse.
Yasoshima Jiemon raised his hand to signal everyone to halt, then lined up the foot soldiers with firearms along the irrigation ditch’s embankment.
“No matter what transpires, I earnestly entreat you all to refrain from intervening until this humble one gives the signal.”
“We shall strive to comply.”
Yasoshima Jiemon nodded to his son-in-law.

Hachirobei began walking quietly.
The mob of insurgents seemed to have noticed him immediately, for from within the pine grove, people clutching weapons in their hands began spilling out toward the road like a collapsing anthill, scattering in disarray.
—Why had he recalled that lizard now?
Hachirobei was still pondering this—the great waterfall’s spray swirled like mist; bands of sunlight beautifully illuminated the alpine gentian’s purple hues; each morning, the chilled air of the ravine seeped in with its penetrating scent; and even the frantic sound of droplets cascading like rain from branches in sudden gusts of wind now vividly echoed in his ears.

He approached to within eighteen meters of the village road. The jostling crowd's faces brimmed with murderous intent, their wide-eyed gazes converging solely on Hachirobei. When they saw him still silently closing the gap with long strides, a fearsomely large man in ronin garb leaped from the throng to bar his path.

"Stop! What brings you here?"

The ronin gripped the hilt of his nodachi—a sword over three shaku long—and bellowed. Hachirobei continued advancing while,

“Is it you who claims to be the strategist of this uprising?”

“I won’t waste words answering that. If you’ve come as a messenger to halt the land surveys, you may pass. But if your purpose lies elsewhere, leave this place at once. We will either reject this tyranny or drive the Date clan from Uwajima—until we achieve one path decisively, we will not stay our hands.”

“Step aside. Will you not step aside?”

As he spoke, the great sword leapt from Hachirobei’s waist, carving a ‘の’ shape through the air.
A startled “Ah!” erupted from the mouths of the insurgent crowd.
It was truly a decisive strike.
As they watched the ronin—who had been cut down at daybreak—fall sideways into the muddy field littered with stumps, the crowd swarming on the road turned deathly pale.
They had thought it unthinkable; and Hachirobei’s single stroke was a decisive act that completely overturned that very sense of impossibility.

“Calm yourselves, all of you! Drop your weapons!”

Hachirobei advanced with the great sword in his right hand, shouting loudly. Then from the human wall emerged two more ronin clad in light armor—one wielding a long sword, the other a spear—as they came running out. Without slowing his pace, Hachirobei roared, “Calm yourselves! Those who resist will be cut down!” He pressed forward steadily while shouting.

The spear-bearing ronin charged with a throat-rending shriek. In the instant Hachirobei twisted his body, the swordsman who had raised his blade leaped forward to strike. Yet when an indescribably eerie sound rang out, one man lay split from spear’s midpoint through his skull upon the road, while the other collapsed staining a heap of rice stalks crimson at his right side.

“Drop your weapons!” Hachirobei advanced further while shouting. “Fifty firearms are lined up beyond here! I’ve cut down the ronin who styled himself a strategist and plotted this uprising, but you people bear no blame! All of you—discard your weapons and quietly await His Lordship’s judgment! Those who resist will be cut down without mercy, as you’ve just witnessed!”

They discarded bamboo spears.
They discarded mountain swords and hunting guns.
After confirming this, Hachirobei turned back and signaled to Jiemon that the matter had been resolved without incident.
He had already forgotten about the lizard.

Six

Hachirobei, having appeared before His Lordship, recognized Munetoshi’s expression trembling with an unprecedented ferocity; he dejectedly lowered his head.

“Is it true you slew rebels from the uprising?”

“Yes—this was an act of recklessness on my part.”

“Who commanded you to kill? Hachirobei! Do not dare give me equivocal answers!”

“This humble one acted solely by his own decision.”
Lord Munetoshi’s hand gripping the armrest trembled visibly with rage. Prostrated against the floorboards, Hachirobei continued: “When this humble one went forth intending to offer some assistance to my father-in-law Jiemon and witnessed firsthand the state of the uprising—overwhelmed by fear’s grip—all sense of consequence fled me until three men lay cut down.”

“Had they been fit for slaughter,” Lord Munetoshi rebuked through clenched teeth whose vibration reached even his elbow-resting armrest’s carvings—a dragon swallowing clouds now rippling like disturbed water—“we’d have dispatched them without awaiting your blade! Precisely because we sought peaceful resolution have I and these graybeards strained ourselves! Yet you—ignorant of this—bungle affairs through rashness? Insolent wretch!”

“I prostrate myself in terror. Mercy, mercy, I humbly beg!”

Hachirobei's forehead seemed to bite into the floorboards.
That voice held nothing but a resonance pleading for mercy.
...And that scene—only Kutsuki Daigaku observed it with moistened eyes—a gaze that seemed about to overflow with tears.

“Stand up,” Munetoshi barked. “You are ordered to house arrest until judgment is passed.”

And he stormed off toward the inner chambers—the uprising, however, was reversed through this. Whether because Hachirobei’s decisive method had proven effective, the disturbances subsided that very day, and the land survey matter reached a state where it could commence at any time.

Date Munetoshi was surprised by the unexpected result.
In his estimation, he had feared that peasants exposed to bloodshed would grow even more violent, likely necessitating the mobilization of castle soldiers.
If that were to happen, it would undoubtedly become prime prey for the shogunate, which was watching for an opportunity to dismantle daimyos.
Were the Date clan to lose the Uwajima family name in merely its second generation, how could he ever apologize to his ancestors’ spirits? It was this thought that had tormented his heart so deeply.

“It was quite the windfall—seventy thousand koku.” When news came that all had settled peacefully and the land survey measurements had begun, Munetoshi strolled leisurely to the castle garden with only Daigaku in tow—a garden he hadn’t walked in for ages.
The warm winter sun shone dazzlingly on the keep’s white walls.
“I suppose we must grant Hachirobei some credit for this unintended success. But there was no need for killing—to cut down three men like that.”

“No—they needed to be killed.”

Daigaku interjected for the first time.

“What? Even you, Daigaku, speak such words?”

“They needed to be killed. The three men Hachirobei cut down were ronin who had mistakenly believed our domain lacked resolve for peaceful measures and incited peasants to plot rebellion. It was precisely through their decisive execution that the insurgents, bereft of leaders, came to recognize the legitimacy of the land surveys.”

“But is that true? Is it a fact that they were ronin?”

“It is the truth.”
Daigaku continued walking quietly as he spoke. “Even were that not so, an uprising constitutes the grave crime of insurrection. Once matters are concluded, the ringleaders must be executed by law. Whether before or after, some victims would have been unavoidable in any case.”

“I see…”
Munetoshi lowered his eyes.

“However, through initially cutting down three men, the matter was settled without requiring any criminals to be named from among the peasants.”

Munetoshi felt as though something had slipped smoothly away from within him.
The two men had reached the Second Bailey before they knew it; Munetoshi stood once more before that grassland.

“I should send a messenger tomorrow,” Munetoshi said while surveying the grassy field there, “and pardon his house arrest.”

“With all due respect, that would be unnecessary for Hachirobei.”

“Would it be wrong to pardon him?”

“He committed ritual suicide and perished.”

Seven

Munetoshi turned toward Daigaku as if he had misheard; a long-tailed bird flew past low overhead, crying out as it went.

“Hachirobei committed ritual suicide shortly after returning to his residence that day—truly an admirable end.”

“Why... why Hachirobei?”

“Does Your Lordship still not comprehend?”

Munetoshi felt his own face growing pale.
Daigaku spoke in a rigid tone, pausing between each word to suppress his emotion: "Had this disturbance not concluded thus—had we instead tried and executed several through legal proceedings—where would the peasants' resentment have been directed?... Likely toward Uwajima Domain's administration, leaving lasting enmity. Hachirobei shouldered what should have been a grudge against governance—he made it his personal burden. He acted contrary to Your Lordship's wish for peaceful measures by cutting down three men. The killings were his sole decision."
"If the peasants were to hold any resentment, their target would be Hachirobei alone—there would be none harboring resentment toward the Date house."
Daigaku fell silent. A considerably long silence ensued.
He continued again, his voice now unmistakably tearful: "Do you recall when we once spoke of Bodhidharma's enlightenment?... Your Lordship laughed—declared he had become useless. Yet those were no laughing words. Staring alone will not pierce a wall through. Consider this anew: his decisive slaying of three men, his same-day seppuku—all sprang from that single phrase of enlightenment. He died bearing the peasants' resentment... Now... the Date house stands secure."

Munetoshi’s eyes remained wide open as he gazed fixedly at the withered grassland.... There, where the northern side was blocked by an armory, pale blue buds were already beginning to peek out from among the roots of the dried grass across the entire expanse.

Yes—that’s right, that’s exactly it—Munetoshi arrived at this conclusion through reasoning entirely separate from Daigaku’s words.
Hachirobei had died for this blinded right eye; ever since that day, he had been waiting for an opportunity to atone for that mistake. It might have been for the sake of the Date family as well—the desire to secure seventy thousand koku was likely not a lie. But what he had contemplated more deeply, more severely, was this right eye.

The sunbathed grassland hazily blurred into mist, and the distant days of childhood were vividly recalled.
There was me, bloodied and thrashing about, and there was his expression—lips blanched, looking almost idiotic from shock.

Ever since that day, he had been waiting for the time when he would cast away his life—he had resolved that it was acceptable to be of no use except on that day.
That was why he had married yet desired no children.
For Munetoshi, Hachirobei’s true heart became clear for the first time—and believing this fact would remain unknown to all, a secret shared solely between the dead Hachirobei and himself—he cried out within his breast: I understand now! Well done, Hachirobei!

“I want to visit his grave and pay respects—”
Munetoshi said after a pause, “But I wish to go immediately in secret. Will you accompany me?”

“I shall accompany you.”

Daigaku quietly wiped his eyes.

The two who exited the castle spurred their horses toward Jōhoku Shidarin-ji Temple.
The wind had begun blowing some time earlier, and as the sun tilted slightly before being hidden by clouds, the air grew bitterly cold. Munetoshi had been riding ahead on horseback but dismounted upon reaching the pine-lined approach between road and temple gate.

The two tied their horses and started walking.
The pine wind moaned—before them and behind, to the right and left, as far as the ear could reach was nothing but its sound. Munetoshi walked on in silence. He climbed stone steps, passed through a tall temple gate, and found the temple precincts too were a pine forest.
And there too was filled with the sound of pine wind, like the roar of waves.

Hachirobei—I've come to see you.
Munetoshi muttered under his breath as if addressing the sound of pine wind.
At that moment, tears welled up as though a dam had broken.
The two men walked through the pine wind.
Thus they remained unaware of the young woman kneeling by the temple gate—her samurai-style straight-cut bangs framing tear-swollen eyes that silently followed their departure.