Pagoda, Skull & Samurai

by Rohan Kōda

  At this point, thumping footfalls announced the arrival of a bullnecked man with short hair and dark face, his huge eyes glistening in the shadowy twilight.

  "Oh, Nagura-dono. How are the troops?" asked Tadatsugu, turning toward him.

  Rudely eyeing Kotarō, Nagura growled impatiently, "Every company is ready. Kanamori and the others have already left their position and are stealthily advancing toward the mountainside. In accordance with your plan, I'm going to join the Oda detachment. This intermittent rain makes conditions ideal; it's just the time for you to make your move. So, I'll see you tomorrow." With a bow, Nagura departed.

  Having heard every word, Kotarō bristled even more eagerly for action, while Tadatsugu was hurried by the pressing need to decide what to do about the youth. Equally frustrated and chafed, each became impatient with the other and heated in his speech.

  "You're still being insensible, Kotarō! Would I wear out my tongue trying to dissuade you if it were not impossible for me to take you along? There's no way I can oblige you."

  "You're heartless! How much of a burden would I be?"

  "Young as you are, you ought to be better able to divine another's feelings. Must you torture me like this?"

  "Do you mean to dismiss my resolve so lightly?"

  "Permission cannot be granted."

  "I implore you!"

  One refusing to consent, the other refusing to obey—as the battle of wills continued, the rain resumed and the sun set. In the ensuing darkness there arrived a man whose bearing betrayed him to be Nagura. "What are you waiting for, General Sakai? Aren't you acting a little lackadaisical for one who's the commander of this entire operation? You are well known for keeping your cool in any crisis, but this dawdling is approaching indolence, don't you think?" Finishing his speech, Nagura stalked out as if urging Tadatsugu to follow him instead of making a reply.

  "Yes, I intend to set out immediately," said Tadatsugu, leaving his campstool. Jerking his armor belt tighter, he turned toward Kotarō. "No more time for discussion. I want you to follow my advice."

  No sooner did his forceful voice die than Kotarō countered, "No, I can't. Please grant my only and final request on earth."

  His youthful intransigence had an implacable force of its own. The disheartened Tadatsugu looked toward heaven, speechless, but the next moment he seized Kotarō in his left arm, an eagle snatching a small bird, and flung him over his shoulder. Grabbing Kotarō's halberd off the ground with his right hand, Tadatsugu dashed out through the torrential rain toward Tominaga's camp in the distance.

  "Tominaga-dono, do me a favor," panted Tadatsugu. "This young man insists on making his debut in the battlefield. Please attach him to your company, for initiation, but not for actual combat. He's bent on dying, but don't let him die in a battle which is all but won. He's the son of Yanagi Sadaharu. Watch over him."

  "Son of Yanagi, eh? I understand. I won't let him die —leave him to me," bawled Tominaga in a voice like a cracked temple bell, showing the instant comprehension of a seasoned samurai accustomed to communicating with his eyes.

  When Tadatsugu set him down on the ground, Kotarō at last realized why he had been brought there. With a tender smile, Tadatsugu regarded the disgruntled youth and said, "All I can do is to assign you to this company. Tomorrow, get to know the enemy at first hand. There's no rush to die. Remember what I said. Just don't be careless or overeager." He squeezed Kotarō's hands firmly, let them go, and bolted out, leaving behind only a "Farewell."

  A few yards away he took a backward glance. The downpour had tapered off to a drizzle, and Kotarō was distinctly visible against the flickering torchfires in the misty distance. Probably forestalling the youth's attempt to run after Tadatsugu, Tominaga's tall figure stood behind him, his hands on Kotarō's shoulders.

  "Take good care of him!" Tadatsugu involuntarily enjoined.

  "Don't worry," replied Tominaga.

  "I'll be depending on you."

  "No need to harp on it. Second thoughts are unbecoming," scolded the answering voice, dissolving into friendly laughter that reverberated against the black sky.

  [14]

  The opposition was in full force against the Takeda's modest numbers. They had taken to the higher ground, taxing the Takeda with an uphill fight. They were entrenched behind solid fortifications, forcing the Takeda to cross a wide-open field fully exposed. They were united in their will to fight, while the Takeda ranks were plagued by dissension. Every maneuver had been executed with precision, to which the Takeda, without countermeasures of their own, fell easy prey. As if these factors were not enough to carry the tide of battle, the Takeda lost their supplies in a surprise raid, which also dislodged them from their chosen positions.

  Since the battle was now being fought by individual warriors spread over the terrain, no single man could accomplish stupendous feats to redress the balance. Slight of build yet acclaimed for his pluck, Yamagata set upon the enemy undeterred by no less than twenty bullet wounds; he finally succumbed to the twenty-first hit, which entered his saddlebow and coursed through his waist. Pierced by an arrow as he was guarding the rear of Katsuyori's retreat, Naitō yielded his head to a Tokugawa captain. Baba led his seven hundred troops through nine engagements, protecting his lord with competent maneuvers until his command dwindled to a mere eighty. At last, leaning on his plover-hooked spear, he stood on a rise watching his lord's standard emblazoned with the character for "great" disappear into the northeast. "My lord must have crossed Monkey Ridge by now. There's nothing to keep me here," he decided. Loudly announcing his identity to the enemy warriors, Baba fought to his heart's content and finally took his own life in a lordly manner. With the Sanada brothers and numerous other valiant commanders already fallen, the Takeda army broke away and straggled toward Hōrai Temple.

  Although resigned to certain defeat, Dairoku had not expected a debacle of such extent. Bitterly chagrined yet powerless to stem the tide, he intended at least to ensure his lord's safe retreat. Falling in with a like-minded comrade, he returned to a low-lying piece of land set off from the road and stood his ground using a sparsely branched, thick-trunked old pine for his shield. "Come on, foes! So long as my arrows last, I shall teach you the meaning of pain!" His rapidly fired missiles leveled like so many shōgi pieces a handful of Mikawa warriors among the swarm that had advanced in pursuit. No sooner did some alarmed foot-soldiers shout warnings than another handful succumbed to the exacting arrows shot into the pack, sending waves of shock and rage through it. Veteran warriors Tamon and Hachisuka dashed forward with their great swords upraised, jeering and chastising their ranks, "Don't panic! Disgraceful ! Push right through! Never mind a few samurai on the run shooting arrows from the wayside. Strike them down and tear ahead!"

  "I'll shoot the front one; you take care of the other," Dai-roku called out to his comrade, releasing his bowstring with a sharp report. Hachisuka dropped with a scream, his chest pierced by Dairoku's missile. Just as Tamon, startled by the scream, looked back, an arrow whizzed past his face, chipping the back of his helmet. Doubly enraged by his narrow escape, he swooped forward like a bird and swung his sword one-handed at the archer, who had tossed his bow aside and taken a backward step to snatch another weapon. The great blade stretched across the distance to hack off the archer's right arm. The swordsman wasted no time in turning his furious and now confident blow toward the remaining enemy. Falling one step back, Dairoku, his eyes limpid, his face flaming like a crystalline autumn stream, drew himself up to his full height and glared at the assailant. The lacquer-black beard, the firmly drawn straight mouth, the towering stature, and the heroic bearing—Dairoku emanated the commanding air of a general. A priceless catch! He's all mine! Tamon eagerly lunged at Dairoku, thrusting his sword and giving a sharp cry. Without drawing his own sword, Dairoku dodged the blows with light, easy footwork until he tripped Tamon with a powerful sidelong sweep of his thick bow. After forcing the fallen man down to the ground with a few rapid raps of the bow, Dair
oku left him alive—as if to say he deserved worthier antagonists than he found there—and sped away northward.

  [15]

  Until yesterday he had boasted of his military might, surrounded by a horde of intrepid commanders and paladins. Today, alas, all that became a dream of the past. Now his retinue consisted only of a few footsoldiers and a handful of warriors, including Hajikano and the elder Kasai. Gnashing the invisible fangs of bitter regret, Katsuyori, disconsolate, was on his way to Horai Temple. The weather was warm, and the battle had raged overlong. Both the lord and his vassals were suffering from exhaustion, their weary bodies no longer matching their gallant spirits. In moments of despair Katsuyori more than once thought of returning to the battleground, there to die in combat. But he was forced to dissuade himself in consideration of his vassals' loyal effort to save him. The intermittent breeze carried the unintelligible clamor of the pursuing Mikawa men, alarming and disheartening Katsuyori all the more. He used to take pride in his flag bearing the character for "great," as though it housed the war god himself, but now he was as much ashamed before it as he was exasperated by the unbearable disgrace of showing the cantle of his saddle to the lowliest of enemy ranks for the first time in his life. "If only Nature or some worthy opponents see fit to obstruct my path now, I'd gladly make them an offer of my life," Katsuyori thought, seething in impotent rage and longing for a valorous death. He rode his charger at an unhurried pace, stretching up on the stirrups now and then to scan the scene around him. His haunted eyes, in which a smoldering blaze was threatening to flare up, scrutinized the arrow-strewn riverbed, banks, ridges, and valleys bathed in the afternoon sunlight.

  Whether or not he failed to surmise Katsuyori's state of mind, Hajikano turned around and approached him. "I would like you to urge your horse to move faster. The rear guard unit some distance behind us consists of but fifty odd men. If a large enemy force should overtake them, they would have a hard time holding them off," he advised, as tactless as he was skilled in martial arts.

  "Silence, Hajikano," thundered Katsuyori, venting his pent-up emotions. "You insolent fool! What if the enemy overtakes us? Do you expect me to retreat at a gallop? I am well aware that the rear guard is undermanned. I know not what the likes of Nobunaga would do under such circumstances, but I for one would not think of riding at any pace other than a jog trot, no matter how urgent our withdrawal. You gallop when fortune rides with you. Now that my luck has run out, I intend to leave at my leisure, taunting the enemy. What do you mean, telling me to withdraw in such haste? Shame on you for all your excellent field record! If I am to die at the enemy's hand, so be it. At least my last show of courage will bring respect upon my corpse. After the full day's hard riding, my mount is nearly exhausted. Can't you see how heavy his steps are? Beast as he is, he has served me to the utmost of his strength. Is it humane to whip him on mercilessly to his death? I don't find life desirable enough to sacrifice my own mount in hasty retreat, only to invite contempt and derision upon myself. Don't waste your breath."

  Hajikano fell silent in the face of Katsuyori's intemperate outburst, hurled against a man in favor of a horse. The mature Kasai, however, interceded with a reassuring smile in his placid old eyes. "How right you are, my lord! Your charger has been on the verge of collapse from exhaustion. My own young steed ought to bear up much better. I dare say that it is rather incautious of you to be on a nearly incapacitated mount. Please exchange horses with me, lest you be caught ill-prepared for action, quite aside from your humane concern for the animal."

  "Well said, Kasai! For your loyal advice, I shall give you my horse and borrow yours," Katsuyori consented in good humor. He then instructed a warrior, "Since you are young, Tsuchiya, let Kasai have your mount lest he lose his."

  Swinging off his horse, Kasai waited for Katsuyori to mount it before climbing upon the saddle vacated by his lord. Meanwhile, a score of Mikawa horsemen apparently fell upon the rear guard. Perhaps the distant clashes of steel mingled with battle cries hastened Kasai's resolution. "Let me take my leave now, sire. With this none too young life of mine, I shall help secure your withdrawal." As soon as he had finished the sentence, he took a deep bow upon the saddle, turned his horse southward, and spurred him on, heedless of his colleagues' shouts to restrain him.

  Straight into the midst of a hot engagement between some fifty Mikawa warriors and thirty kōshū rear guards galloped Kasai, his speartip glinting and his aged voice calling, "Move aside, comrades! Hand over any foe unworthy of your effort. One of me is enough to dispose of them all." Encouraged by his spirited cheer, Aoki, who had been protecting the rear guard commander, halved an onrushing opponent like a bamboo stalk, cleaving another from armpit to shoulder with a sidelong return swing. "Kasai-dono, thanks for coming to our aid! Just watch— I'll take care of these in no time," Aoki shouted as he claimed more enemies, new vigor surging into his tired body. Their morale immensely uplifted, the kōshū men took to the offensive with a vengeance, at last pushing back the Mikawa force almost a dozen yards. The rear guard, whose mission was simply to expedite their lord's withdrawal, collected the survivors and made an orderly retreat toward Hōrai Temple. Already sworn to death, however, Kasai fearlessly gave chase without breaking his momentum. Only when the widening distance proved his pursuit futile did he stop at a tiny roadside shrine, set in a sparse grove of young cedar trees. Beside it flowed a small stream which probably served as the shrine's ablution basin. Seeking a drink to soothe his parched throat, he reached the stream to find its water clear all the way to the bottom.

  "Thank heaven for this!" Cautiously glancing in all directions, he dismounted. He led his mount downstream and let him drink first, stroking the animal's mane with his left hand. "Oh, how exhausted you must be! You look as if you have but little time left to enjoy this life. An inevitable fate for the lord's charger, but please don't resent it," the old man murmured to the poor beast—or to himself— sighing at the sight of his lord's favorite horse, which had developed shadowy hollows beneath his eyes in a single day. After another careful look around, he laid his spear on the ground and smiled as he felt the finger-numbing cold water. In the absence of a dipper, he scooped the water into his palms and rinsed his mouth out a few times.

  Just then the sound of approaching footsteps arose. No sooner did his trained ears catch the stir in the air than Kasai spit out the water and snatched up his spear. A split second later, a sharp cry and a spear struck at him. The assailant did not announce his name, but he appeared to be a man of impressive standing. Whirling round on his heel and brushing the spear aside in one movement, Kasai assumed an alert fighting stance, showing no disdain for this tall, formidable enemy warrior clad in brilliant armor. For some moments the two were fixed in a silent glowering match. Perhaps in youthful impatience the younger man issued a battle cry and thrust his spear, the bamboo-shaped tip of which flashed a lightning glint barely short of Kasai's nose. Not to be outdone, the masterly elder attempted to wrest the enemy weapon away with his own. It was a fierce contest between two spears, one long-bladed and the other with a point shaped like a bamboo leaf. One would parry the other's thrust; the other would fend off the former's drive. The equally consummate skill of the two contestants struck an interminable balance, intertwining a pair of steel serpents in space. Though his spirit was valiant and his eyes clear, advanced age and fatigue took a heavy toll on the older man's limbs. Gradually his spear dropped to a defensive low angle, and he was forced to continue parrying and backstepping until he stood under a short tree. When the butt of his spear was caught in the tree's low-hanging boughs, Kasai suddenly found his own midsection vulnerable to attack. The enemy speartip nearly bit into his unprotected flank, but not a moment too soon a ferocious growl shook the forest. The silvery flash of an enormous sword projected the image of a samurai falling in a jet of blood. Onto the vacated space loomed the crimson face of a giant, his long beard fluttering in the wind.

  "It's you, Dairoku!"

  "Right, uncle."
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  An exclamation and a forward step later, each was drawn to the other by the emotional impact of another unexpected encounter in this world, though within such a short time of the last one.