Pagoda, Skull & Samurai

by Rohan Kōda

  Clasping Dairoku's hand the elder sat down on a flat rock nearby and remarked, smiling wryly, "I was about to quit this world, but thanks to you I must suffer this precious life of mine a little longer. I wouldn't have minded letting that worthy adversary do the honors, though. How luckless of him!"

  "At such a critical moment, I had no choice but to cut him down without so much as a glance at his live face. I am sorry for the cruelty of it." Dairoku forced a slight smile as he regarded his victim's corpse. "At any rate, what will you do now, uncle? You seem to have escaped serious injury. Won't you come with me to rejoin our lord? It's foolish to engage in a useless fight—rather thoughtless to offer your head to a nameless foe, as you tried to do. Let's be on our way.... Do you have a better idea? Why don't you come along?" Far from oblivious of his uncle's pledge at the hamlet of Pure Well Field, Dairoku assumed an easy tone in his effort to prevent a needless death when the battle was, by and large, over.

  But the elder Kasai showed no sign of conceding. "Leave an old man to his own devices; no need for a young fellow to lend him youthful wisdom. Save your breath, Dairoku. Do you expect me to follow Chōkan's example? You fool! Why don't you urge me to emulate Generals Baba and Naitō instead? A young man whose glib tongue betrays a lack of moral fortitude earns no one's trust. Today's battle has proven a disastrous defeat for us, not that it was unanticipated. How could I possibly set foot upon the Kōshū soil again, safe and sound, uninjured as I am? No, I'll make my stand here, but for a purpose. If I can stop even a soldier or two, it will help ensure my lord's safe withdrawal. If I can die the way I was about to, I'll have my wish and the enemy can claim due credit. How can that be called useless or thoughtless? To my lord I offered my own fresher mount, and I've returned to this spot on his tired horse. Why should I renege now? Don't worry about me. I have only to die, but I shall not fail death. What worries me is that you might fail life. After expounding your brazen opinion in the presence of our illustrious commanders at the spring, Dairoku, I hope you're not going to fail life. Would you like me to leave you my ancient wisdom as a farewell gift to supplement your own lack of it? What was it that you said, about rejoining our lord? Merely to trail after him? What an ignoramus! That's exactly what I mean by failing life. You must realize your own shame upon having lost a battle. One who clings to life unabashed by a loss of mission has done nothing but fail life.

  "Much as I had foreseen it, I can hardly bear this defeat —the hardest-fought battle in the history of our clan and an unprecedented blot on the Takeda name. Now that those braggarts from the plains have netted the greatest windfall victory of their lives, they will doubtless gloat with redoubled arrogance, loudly predicting the imminent downfall of the Takeda. How vexing that we are powerless to check their vainglory! With their bravado adding double and triple insult, our morale will sink as much as theirs will soar. Oh, the shame of it! Dairoku, are you still content merely to follow in the trail of your lord? The mighty reputation of the Takeda clan, painstakingly built upon a foundation of perpetual training and discipline, has just crumbled in a day, doomed to permanent extinction unless some immediate measure is taken. Those of us on our way to death are an altogether different matter, but I don't believe those who choose to remain in this world can claim a lack of plans to redress the situation. You don't intend to live and do nothing, do you, Dairoku? No, not my own nephew, a nephew of the man who has enjoyed a close friendship with Generals Baba and Yamagata! You can't possibly fail life. You must have some plans up your sleeve. Why, then, did you pretend to trail after the lord like such a fool? Do you rate your own uncle beneath your confidence? Well, I will no more fail death than you will life; I'm no craven soul who'll retreat on the heels of Chōkan and Atobe. It must have been around six this morning when General Baba was observing the troop movements of both sides from a vantage point--"

  In the middle of the old warrior's reminiscence, a handful of soldiers appeared out of nowhere, brandishing their swords. "Vermin!" roared Dairoku, swiftly cropping three of them with his great blade, while his uncle speared one.

  Leaning on the shaft of his weapon as it impaled the victim's throat, the elder continued, "...that he asked, 'Who is that samurai in our ranks fighting under a white banner with the cross-cornered rhombus emblem? I don't recognize him, but he's obviously quite a fighter.' 'I am proud to report that it is my own nephew Dairoku,' I answered elatedly. 'Since the bamboo hat is already known as my own crest, I gave him permission to use the rhombic well for himself.'* 'Your nephew indeed! His fierce fighting confirms what he said to us yesterday. He pledged to survive, but I am now confident that he will not fail life. You are fortunate to have such a fine nephew,' said the general, smiling. How do you feel, Dairoku, to hear this now? At the time, the expression 'fail life' struck me like a thunderbolt; for a moment the shock rendered me deaf to the battle cries and the roar of guns. You are my own nephew, but I must admit your fine character has independently earned my respect. What will you do now? Not live to fail life, I hope. One man's strength may be limited, but his will can attain heaven. A heroic warrior aspiring to accomplish a mission in this life should not be beguiled by a juvenile, asinine notion such as predestination. If your destiny is already predetermined, overturn it. If it's yet to be sealed, let your own hand shape it. This may not apply when you're on the verge of death, but you have neither heaven to fear nor a man to obstruct your vital will. You must agree that a great warrior's way of life is to fight to a finish. Much to our regret we conceded victory to the likes of Nobunaga, and the Takeda army, which had never failed to play by its own rules and safeguard its honor through the fiercest of battles under the late lord, withdrew today impotent and dispirited. You insist on surviving in spite of it all. Will you live merely for the sake of living? You of all people, so confident of your ability to endure the bitterest shame suffered by the House of Takeda, you could not possibly fail life. I can't believe you'd swallow our defeat and still hold your head high, utterly lost to shame. How can you keep on living unless you plan to reverse the outcome of this battle or to erase both the victory and the defeat? But, Dairoku, you are young and low-ranking, and you have yet to distinguish yourself in the lord's eyes. Saving the clan in the aftermath of this war is obviously far beyond your power, so you must have suggested to follow the lord entirely on my account. Don't be concerned about me. I won't fail death; just don't you fail life. Looking back now, how portentous was General Baba's farewell wish that you survive to live well!

  "Alas, I hear men and horses heading this way. This time there are more than a score of them—it looks like a company of at least one hundred. You, who elected to live, must leave at once. Look! The lord's charger didn't stray far; he's grazing his way back toward us on the other bank. It almost seems as if he could differentiate the enemy's approach from our own. With him I'll be happy to end my life upon an enemy blade. I've said all there is to say. Farewell, Dairoku, and live well!"

  The old man rose swiftly, braced the butt of his spear on the ground, and swung across the stream on its shaft. Overtaking the shying horse, he mounted it and walked the animal unhurriedly toward Dairoku, his amazing agility despite old age and exhaustion attesting to his lifelong experience and training. The noble resolution to proceed on his steady course toward death seemed to suffuse his profile with a chilling portent of heroism in the face of doom.

  Gripping a great sword, Dairoku silently watched his uncle ride past. Presently he raised a determined voice and called after him, "Uncle, I understand you perfectly. I shall not fail life. I promise to live out my days meaningfully. Please watch me from the observation tower that they say soars up in Hell. I shall not rest until I have nullified the outcome of today's battle. I wish you a valiant death in combat, uncle. Now that I must guard myself against even a scratch, I have no alternative but to leave you to your fate. Forgive me, uncle. Fare thee well!"

  In the echo of the parting words, one raced away toward a side road as unflatteringly as water seeking i
ts own level, and the other plunged, a single rock hurled into the on-rushing tide of enemy forces. The briefest instant interspacing dream and reality marked their long separation, until the advent of the bodhisattva Miroku.

  [16]

  Tominaga, who had taken charge of Kotarō at Tada-tsugu's request, was an unassuming samurai. In his artless sincerity he tried to soothe and mollify the youth.

  "You'd be better off restraining your eager pursuit of glory and settling for careful observation of the battle this time around. As the saying goes, 'No great feat can be accomplished in one step, any more than an acolyte can become an abbot overnight.' You grow into a warrior gradually, accumulating knowledge through observation. As a rule, even your physical condition improves as your mental maturity grows. Don't hasten your own death; rather, love and cherish yourself, for there's no telling what exceptional glory you may be capable of attaining in your long future life."

  The well-meaning admonition did not fail to penetrate the listener's ear, nor did Tadatsugu's thoughtfulness in leaving him under Tominaga's care go unnoticed. Yet the more keenly he felt the kindness of others, the more vehemently Kotarō hated himself for appearing to be such a feckless, vulnerable figure. Despite all his effort to suppress his emotions and resign himself to the genuine kindness of others, the flames of furor in his heart gave him no rest, just as the embers of a bonfire burst back to life, even under stamping feet, with each blast of mountain wind. Soon he began to feel that Tominaga's advice was nothing but the trivial prattle of a foolish mediocrity who had no insight into his character, and that he would forfeit his integrity if he heeded it.

  "Let people call me an ingrate. Dying is no crime. I'll slip away through Tominaga's blind spot and fight at my own will. General Sakai has long gone out of my reach. This is totally counter to my original plan, but I have no time to lose. It must be possible for one man to make a dash into the kōshū line. What have I to fear when my body and my life are already lost causes? Shall I run for it now, this instant?"

  More than once, Kotarō contemplated such precipitous action, but he could not elude the wary eyes of Tominaga. Besides, he was somewhat hesitant to frustrate the well-intentioned efforts of others, and so he deferred his escape plan for the night. Around dawn, however, the colors and drumbeats of the two great armies began to converge. Horses tossed their manes with animated neighing and men swaggered about with arched shoulders and furious glares. Soon swords and spears were flashing like bolts of lightning, and the thunderclaps of guns were rending the air. An irresistible urge overcame Kotarō's last shred of self-restraint when a perfect opportunity presented itself in the heat of battle. Now totally oblivious of his obligations toward Tominaga and even of his own regard for Tadatsugu, Kotarō raced away from Tominaga's unit in search of the enemy.

  Tominaga had been keeping a vigilant watch over Kotarō, fully aware of his impetuous craving for death. However, partly misled by the boy's seeming compliance with his advice, he had let down his guard as his unit became engulfed in battle and remained entirely unaware of Kotarō's disappearance. By the time the fighting slackened and Tominaga remembered his charge, there was no trace of Kotarō. "Damn it all," he thought. "It was not an official assignment, but I can't sit idly by after failing another's trust. I must do something, but I'm not at liberty to leave my post in search of the boy right now. What should I do?" For lack of a better alternative, he finally dispatched a dozen men on Kotarō's trail, but none found even a shadow of him. The battle was abating in one sector after another, and Tominaga's hope that the boy might appear among the returning soldiers rapidly faded. Helpless and increasingly exasperated, he waited, chafing and fretting, too restive to sit or stand. He hoped against hope that the most trusted searcher, who was still unaccounted for, might return bearing good news. Two hours passed, then four. At last the man reported back. Impatiently beckoning him closer, Tominaga questioned him.

  "Upon receiving your order, I searched everywhere from the mountainside to the river banks, determined to find him. I saw no one even remotely resembling him. But loath to return empty-handed, I combed some distant villages just on a slim hope. Near the road leading off Araumi Square toward Yatsukaho, there was a giant old chinquapin tree spreading thick branches. In its dark shade I spotted a short halberd. I rushed over, only to find Master Kotarō, his body bearing the mark of one fatal stroke delivered by some unknown swordsman. Grieved and enraged though I was, I had been too late to catch the perpetrator and could do nothing but to bring back the young man's head and his halberd. Discoloration had already set in, but the beauty of his features and the familiar halberd left no room for misidentification. The only odd thing is that his topknot is missing. Look for yourself."

  When the man had finished his dismal report, he proceeded to untie the sleeve torn off a combat jacket in which he had wrapped the severed head. Already chocking with emotion at the sight of Kotarō's halberd, Tominaga averted his face. "How can I ever apologize to General Sakai? Damn my carelessness! Now what should I do?" he cried, springing to his feet.

  [17]

  The battle of Nagashino was over. The Oda-Tokugawa victory became an established fact, and the legendary fame of the Takeda was, like a broken icicle, shattered beyond repair. For a while, Ieyasu was kept busy by a visit to the Oda domain and an attack on Futamata Castle in Enshū. Toward the end of the sixth month, he found time to spend a few days to relax in his own castle.

  The supreme pleasure of summer is the caress of a cool breeze after a bath. Clad casually in a light linen kimono, Ieyasu was on the veranda of his quarters in the company of a handful of ladies-in-waiting, waiting for the moon to rise over a miniature hill in the garden.

  "Sire, General Sakai has been in the front room for some time, wishing to make a petition. What is your pleasure?" inquired a page twelve or thirteen years old, no doubt a son of some renowned vassal who had died in war.

  "What? Tadatsugu, at this hour of the night? Well, no need to arrange an official audience; send him in," Ieyasu instructed offhandedly.

  Soon after the women had discreetly retired, Tadatsugu followed the page into the room and prostrated himself at the far end.

  "Tadatsugu. Make yourself comfortable, as I'm dressed quite casually. Come up here for the nice breeze." The genial invitation was conveyed with a broad smile. Always affable, the lord appeared in exceptional good humor this evening.

  "A propitious occasion for making my request!" Elated, Tadatsugu expressed his gratitude: "I must apologize for seeking your audience at this late hour. I am grateful for your gracious permission and for your most kind words."

  "What's on your mind?"

  "Begging your pardon, I would like to speak frankly, even at the risk of incurring a reprimand for my impertinence. It concerns Yanagi Kotarō. For his unauthorized participation in the battle and his death in combat, the blame was placed not upon myself but upon Tominaga. Knowing that you have already passed judgment on the matter, I cannot help but feel profoundly guilty for having acted contrary to your wishes. I know I deserve reproach for making such a brazen request now, but I can no longer hold back. My petition pertains to none other than Kasai Dairoku, who was captured when he attempted to assassinate Lord Nobunaga at the party celebrating our Naga-shino victory. Since Kasai had somehow smuggled himself into General Akechi Mitsuhide's command in order to gain that access, even the innocent General Akechi became an unwitting target of Lord Nobunaga's wrath. To alleviate the volatile situation, your lordship volunteered to take custody of Kasai. You told Lord Nobunaga that your retainer Naruse, who once lived in Kōshū long enough to know practically every samurai there, would be just the man to question this prisoner, that Lord Nobunaga could execute him later by upside-down crucifixion or quartering by oxen, but that you wanted him to be turned over to you so that you could extract a full confession from him.

  "Since the man was handed over to you, however, he has undergone only a few interrogations, each of which was deadlocked by his stu
bborn silence. Without resuming the questioning, you have treated him leniently, quartering him comfortably, though under guard, in Hōkō Temple outside the castle compound. Kasai has been repeatedly urged not only through Naruse but once even by your lordship in person to give up his revenge and serve the House of Tokugawa instead, but he has been obstinate in his refusal. Quite admirable of that bearded man, I must say. Your mind is of course not for me to fathom, but I presume that you will eventually dispose of him unless he pledges his loyalty to you. I cannot believe you would set him free no matter how much you admire him. The alternatives seem to be limited: either to grant him a graceful death here, or to send him back to Lord Nobunaga for a brutal execution. Could you leave his disposal to me? In place of all the rewards I might earn for my future services and in exchange for the testimonials I have already received from you, I beg you to grant me this one request.

  "In the past few days, a respite in my schedule allowed me to visit Kotarō's grave and to have a pleasant talk with Naruse. When our conversation happened to touch upon the circumstances of Kasai Dairoku's capture, the fact that he had been caught wearing two short swords in addition to the regular sword aroused my curiosity. I prevailed upon Naruse to let me take a look at the belongings that had been left in his keeping for investigative purposes. The long sword and one of the short ones were obviously a set, both excellent blades in plain black sheaths bearing no signature of the swordsmith. The other short sword, however, was an unusual item made to fastidious taste—a saliently grained unlacquered sheath and a sandalwood hilt—uncommon, yet disturbingly familiar to me. While I was examining them, it suddenly occurred to me that incredible as it seemed, it was the very sword that Kotarō had once shown me. At the time, I had pointed out to him that it was tastefully fashioned but that the hilt lacked slip-proof designs to ensure a firm grip. Most likely in response to my advice, Kotarō reported at our subsequent meeting that he was rather proud of the new carving done on his sword—deep herringbone notches on the hilt and raised wood grain in the midsection of the sheath. Beholding the unmistakable herringbone pattern and the grain of the cedar sheath, I concluded that Kasai had slain Kotarō and taken this eyecatching sword for his own use. In a fit of unbearable anger and anguish, I took a hasty leave of Naruse and went home to deliberate. A private act of revenge is, of course, out of the question. I do not mean to second-guess an official sentence, but Kasai's execution seems a foregone conclusion now. I hereby request that his custody and disposal be granted to me. Your permission will be received with immeasurable gratitude, not only by myself, but by Kotarō and his father in the nether world as well. I have come in the night like this so as not to commit the indiscretion of making such a private request in public at court."