by Rohan Kōda
Cutting him off in mid-sentence, a voice cried out as sharp as the rock-rending shrill of a pheasant starting up from a field. "That little sword is right here! You must remember this sandalwood hilt and this unpainted sheath." The woman seated by the lamp drew a small sword out of her bosom and hurled the empty sheath at Dairoku. The next instant she was before him, holding fast at his forehead a blade glistening like a wet serpent. Her swift move had taken Dairoku by complete surprise, but he stared back unflinching and silent.
With one knee on the floor, the woman was trembling with impatience to the ends of her rich, fragrant hair. Undaunted by the bright lamplight, she fully exposed her dewy eyes and fair face, which had the color of a pear blossom at dawn. "You must recognize this blade. It bears the rancor of my young brother, who died at your hand. Your exploit, which you have so proudly described to me in your own words, is at the same time my grudge against you. I am none other than Tamae, the only sister of Yanagi Kotarō Muneharu. I will not leave my brother's mortal enemy in peace. I have come here tonight to make you a present of this sword. Will you end your own life with it? Otherwise, I have no choice but to smear it with the blood from your neck. Even a woman's arm can be charged with the full force of human will. Shall I bring death upon you, or do you elect to kill yourself? Make your choice promptly and give me your answer."
"Take my words with you as a memento of this world, Dairoku," followed Tominaga, poised with one foot forward, ready to draw his sword in a flash. "I was dishonored when you snuffed out the life of Yanagi Kotarō, who had been entrusted to me by Sakai Tadatsugu. I have come here resolved to lay down my life at the risk of incurring my lord's wrath. I won't let you escape alive. You played right into our hands, describing the death of Yanagi. Indeed, your confession marked the end of the devil's own luck for you. You have no hope of prolonging your life anyway; are you willing to yield it to us, or shall we take it from you? Sakai has been frustrated in his attempt to gain custody of you, and Miss Tamae is inconsolable over the extinction of her lineage. Caught between the two, I am moved by the sight of rage and grief—one over the loss of her own flesh and blood, and the other over his failure in his moral obligation to protect an orphan left in his care. I am moved to the point of wishing to tear you apart and disembowel myself afterward in apology to my lord, even though I harbor no personal hatred for you. Once the small sword proved beyond doubt that you were the cruel killer of the young and innocent Kotarō, there is no way I can let you sit here so securely. You also have Miss Tamae to contend with. You might as well give up any hope of living through this night. Will you die at your own hand, or shall I put you to my sword? If you are contemplating resistance, I'll be happy to cut you up for easier serving. Captive as you may be, I am not one to murder an unarmed man. If you are reluctant to go to your death with good grace, I can lend you this combat sword. Try to live if you so decide, but only over my dead body. Well? Are you afraid? Answer me!"
Starting to his feet, Tominaga kicked a sword lying beside him toward Dairoku, quickly loosening the blade catch of his own. Dairoku had no time to dodge the heavy sword sent flying squarely at his face. His left arm shot up to intercept it, and the sword was in his firm grip. Once she confirmed that Dairoku was armed, Tamae gave full vent to the wrath that she had been keeping under restraint until this moment. Time to avenge my brother! She attacked, and Dairoku parried with the point of his sheath. The sparrow-hawk tackling the great heron was light of foot but ferocious of heart, gaining step after step with each relentless swing. Immutable as a boulder, Dairoku remained seated on the floor in dealing with her blows. The sharp blade charged with her single wish cleaved the edge of Dairoku's shoulder. He let the steel just bite into his flesh, then caught her wrist in his iron grip. Pulled down to the floor by his enormous strength, she found her sword arm helplessly pinned under his knee, a snow-white lotus blossom writhing beneath the cartwheel of a green leaf. Instantly, Tominaga roared like a wild bull, his immense sword whistling straight toward Dairoku's neck.
"Hold it!" Dairoku's bellowing voice rocked the building as he clanged his assailant's sword to a dead stop with the hilt of his own. "Look at me! You hothead! Does a Mikawa samurai find honor in the reckless killing of an unresisting man? Listen, Tominaga, if you are so terrified of Kasai Dairoku here, listen with your sword ready. If you attack me so unreasonably again, I'll crush this woman under my knee. Can you afford to take that chance? Withdraw your sword! You refuse? Then shall I press her to death? Which is it going to be? Ha, ha, ha, ha! Oh, well, Tominaga-dono, I am not a man to plan a temporary escape from the tiger's mouth using a woman as hostage; I am just telling you not to act impetuously. I won't hide or run. What would you lose by hearing me out? If I die in the middle of my story, how will you learn what happened to your beloved Kotarō? Am I anxious to continue the story for my own benefit? No, it is only in behalf of the dead boy that I want you to listen. You, too, Miss Tamae, calm yourself and listen for a while longer."
Noting Tominaga's acquiescence, Dairoku helped Tamae back into her seat. "Please be patient," he continued, unfiustered by the two sets of wary eyes and the pair of drawn swords. "After our sedate drinking, your entertaining sword dance seems to have brought on a warm flush all over me. A lovely feeling indeed! As pleasant as if I were free, breathing the outside air once again after all these days of captivity. Well, let me accept another drink. Lucky for me you didn't kick the trays over. Ha, ha, ha! Thank you."
Dairoku poured himself another cupful, downed it casually, and resumed his monologue:
As I was saying, I had the young warrior in my restraining grasp. I had already stripped him of all weapons, and he had no strength to speak of. Since one of my arms was more than enough to subdue his flailing and squirming, I took my time in drawing my stiletto to cut off his head. Just as the blade was about to touch his throat, I had a close look at this foe of mine. His face, flushed and moist from excitement, was as pure and fair as a glistening white jewel. His tightly pulled petals of lips were flaming red, his soft eyebrows blue-black, and his rage-widened eyes shimmering with gentle dew. A beautiful young boy, too delicate to be handled by rough hands. Except for our differences in allegiance, there was no real grudge standing between us. It would be a grave shame, I thought, to shorten the life of such innocent beauty with my own hand. While it was admirable of him to have braved into the battlefield when he seemed fragile enough to be a female, he even had the courage to set upon a rugged warrior. What an adorable boy, already showing such promise of valor! What would be the harm if I let him live? How can I put a cruel blade to his snow white skin?
Staying my thrust, I said, "Well, young man, in admiration of the bravery you've shown despite your tender age, I'll give you back the life that I hold in my palm. I won't kill you, so concede your inadequacy and come at me no more. I say this because I hate a useless killing of someone with a long life ahead of him. Since I promise never to mention our encounter in claiming credit for my feats, I'll neither tell you my name nor ask you for yours. Let's go our separate ways, and that will be the end of it. I have never set eyes upon you, and you have never seen me."
Then I meant to tell him that he was free to go wherever he pleased, but a sober realization dawned on me: I'm planning to smuggle myself into the Oda camp to assassinate Nobunaga. Suppose this young man belongs to the Oda command? He might prove to be the death of me yet. What a pity the way of Asura is such that I must break my promise right here and now, in eliminating the only witness who could later stymie my plan. With my stiletto still poised over him, I said, "Before I let you leave, tell me whether you are with the Oda army or the Tokugawa."
He answered me, and oh, how he answered me! I still feel a thrill just to remember it. Unafraid in such a desperate moment, the young warrior shouted loud and clear, "Stop talking nonsense! If you want to stab me, stab me. Slash me if you like. When you already have me pinned down, what is holding you back? I would much rather lose my head than live at the charity
of my enemy. I did my best, but I have been overpowered. Now I make you a present of my life so that you can take credit for it. Who would want to play such a cowardly game, pretending we'd never met? How can a man live in such shame before heaven and earth! And how dare you insult me by declining to know my name! As a souvenir to take with me on my last journey, I condescend to mark your name. Identify yourself, you crimson face! Stab me quickly. Kill me! But listen well: I hereby announce that Kotarō Muneharu, the only son of the renowned Mikawa warrior Yanagi Sadaharu, dies in combat this day this month."
He cried fiercely and closed his eyes in heroic surrender. So valiant, so laudable! His show of courage was so winsome, in fact, I couldn't help smiling to myself. And his self-introduction demanded my response in kind.
"Spoken like a brave man!" I commended him. "If you must know, I'll tell you. My name is Kasai Dairoku Taka-hide, merely one of the humblest among the kōshū ranks. Now you know who I am, but I shall not kill you. I was thrilled to hear what you just said. A fine man you are going to be! If we happen to meet again when you are grown, we can have another match to see whether I end up giving you my head or taking yours. Farewell for now; count your years well in training until you grow a beard like mine. I wish you luck. If I survive in the meantime, it will be a pleasure to hear occasional bits of news about you. Otherwise, it might be even more pleasurable to watch you from the nether world, I suppose. Well, if someone should stumble upon us now, we'd be in trouble. I'll proceed on my way, so quickly, go wherever you wish." To prove my sincerity, I tried to help him to his feet.
The boy opened his resolute eyes and stared into my face, brushing off my helping hands. "Your tender words remind me of someone who tried to dissuade me from going to battle. You shattered the heart of Asura within me, and I no longer feel you are part of my sworn enemy. But, once we crossed our weapons, which by definition are blind to human sentiments, the rule allows for no arbitrary mercy or ready acceptance of such. You live if I am slain; if I am spared, I cannot leave you alive. We may both die, but not survive together. I am chagrined to think that you consider a Mikawa man low enough to crawl for life even at a time like this. I have already chosen death, so allow me a proper and swift one, rather than trying to force a life of disgrace on me. I was beaten in a fair fight, and death is the only honor I have left. In exchange for making you a gift of my head, which is to turn to ashes in any case, I can safeguard the dignity of my ancestral name. Besides, in death I will find the satisfaction of fulfilling my heart's desire. Why should I make a cowardly choice of life over death? If you insist on freeing me, I swear I'll come after you and challenge you again. Please take my head this instant. If I am to die at the enemy's hand at all, I am glad it is by a man such as you. I have left some relations behind, but my only wish is that you let the word filter back to Mikawa that one Yanagi Kotarō died in combat. There is nothing more to hold me here. Please take my head."
Lacking the time to assuage the boy's intractable conviction, I didn't argue with him. Without a word I pulled him up, pushed him away, and sprinted south. Picking up the halberd, he shouted, "Where do you think you're going, Kasai Dairoku? What's the use of running off in that direction? You can never get out of my sight." Like a flying bird, he pursued me, still obviously intent upon fighting. The minute I looked back at him, he yelled, "Do you think I'll let my enemy slip out of my sight alive? Be a man and fight!" Knowing full well that he was no match for me, he made a lunge charged with the certainty of death. I was reluctant to kill a boy whom I had once decided to spare, and after some perfunctory parrying I pulled back to leave. He followed and again swung at me. Some more feinting and parrying, and I stepped back. Panting and gasping, the boy still persisted. Unable to cut him down in cold blood, I tried to leave, but he held me back. Time was fast slipping away, to my disadvantage, and I was extremely distressed. Just then three soldiers— low-ranking men from the plains, judging by their garish armor—happened by.
"Hey, Kōshū man on the run! Let us carve you into so many slices!" Bawling boisterously, they fell upon me in a body, their spears and swords glinting. Too late to run or get clear of Kotarō, I made a fast defensive stand in front of a tree. Up against so many assailants, my senses and limbs were all but overtaxed, even without the trouble of trying to avoid injury to the young man, who held the lead position in the assault and fought with more ardor than all the rest. My concern for his safety severely restrained my movements; my arms and will refused to work in unison, more than once subjecting me to untold danger. While I was barely holding my own, I found a chance to slash at an opponent with one sidelong sweep of my sword. Within a split second, though, my target moved back, and smack into the vacated space stepped Kotarō. No sooner did my heart freeze in horror than my sword in its momentum slashed deeply into his body. Oh, damn it! I killed the wrong man! No more need to contain myself, I thought. I instantly launched into a violent offensive, dispatching two on the spot and finishing off one on the run. Blood dripping from my sword, I returned to the original spot to find a pitiful sight. It wrenched my heart to behold the small form lying lifeless on the ground on account of my blunder, a boy endowed with the beauty of heart as well as of countenance, whose life I had fully intended to save. Had he been a little less scrupulous, he would have accepted quarter and enjoyed a long life. But he chose to deny himself another spring, faithful to the polished core of the samurai spirit rather than to take disgraceful advantage of an enemy's mercy. Estimable conduct belying his tender age!
Once, after the battle of Mikata-ga-hara three years ago, I heard General Yamagata remark, "The Mikawa men are the best-trained and most well-disciplined troops west of Edo. They are our foes but I must admit that they conduct themselves admirably." Remembering that comment, I earnestly envied the Mikawa warriors their good fortune in having such brave, gracious young boys for sons, brothers, and friends. If only those certain individuals in our clan had half the sense of honor this boy demonstrated, this battle would not have been such a fiasco. To think that the slick-tongued cowards mishandled the critical situation to bring all this upon us! Ah, the shame!
It makes me wonder what ruthless mind invented the differentiation such as friend and foe. All friends are not necessarily friendly, any more than all foes are detestable. Yet the inexorable command issued in accordance with that elusive differentiation deprives a man's mind of freedom, just as solid ice encases mountains and fields, allowing trees and grass not the slightest movement. If it is called a friend, even the wisteria vine which saps pine trees of their life fluid is spared, while the arrow must be pointed at a graceful cedar bird pecking at precious ivy berries if he is designated a foe. What a woeful rule! Solely because the label "foe" bound this boy and me like an unbreakable chain, one of us adamantly rejected life and rushed to his death, while the other tried to save him, only to fail in the end. Is this what is meant by the saying "No one can escape the law of karma"? It was useless to lament and too late to regret, but how I wished we had won the battle so that I could send his body back to his home with due honor, along with a detailed report of his valiant death as a samurai! Under the circumstances, unfortunately, such was out of the question. After all, I myself was a summer insect about to leap into a peril more deadly than fire. Yet how could I leave his body in the field where the wind and rain would bleach his bones? I couldn't bear the thought of consigning him to the ground unmarked, but what could I do? I lingered there, unable to decide. When at last an idea came, I picked up his smaller sword and thrust it in my waist band. Then I cut off his topknot and wrapped it in a sleeve of his combat jacket. I set out on my way carrying the little packet securely in my bosom. Before smuggling myself into the enemy camp disguised with the sleeve insignia taken from the plainsmen I had slain, I scribbled a note on the boy's sleeve recording his name and describing his end so that in the event of my death, someone examining my body would surely discover what became of Yanagi Kotarō Muneharu. Well, I then made my way into the Akechi comma
nd, and the rest is already an official record. When I was brought here as a captive, I could have immediately carried out the boy's last wish to let the news of his death reach someone in Mikawa, but I decided to wait until my death sentence was passed, for fear that my revelation might be construed as an ingratiating gesture.