"It must have been twenty or thirty; I don't remember anything beyond that."
"That's no good! You have to tell me exactly how many— and provide proof as well," said Kagetoki sharply.
The number of men killed is very important in warfare. But to Naozane, it was a matter of kill or be killed: he fought desperately with all his strength against the enemies who presented themselves one after another. For him, to fight was ecstasy, and in ecstasy one forgets to remember. In that respect, a battle is like sex. Sex leaves only the memory of ecstasy—one has no sense of having done this or that. In just the same way, if one remembered each and every action in battle, it was a sign that one had not forgotten oneself, had not fought with every ounce of one's being—that was Naozane's view. Fighters, after bringing down an enemy, always cut off a hank of hair or ripped off some ornament the dead man was wearing, as proof of the kill; but to Naozane that seemed unbefitting a warrior. Thus, he always left the battlefield empty-handed.
Kagetoki demanded again, "Twenty or thirty' won't do. Give me a definite number."
"I don't remember the number," said Naozane.
"You're causing me a lot of trouble. What shall I say to Lord Yoritomo? I can't tell him you say twenty or maybe thirty, but offer no proof!"
This made Naozane very angry. "Please tell the Shōgun precisely that. 'Naozane says he took twenty or thirty heads, but he's lying.' Why don't you report it to the Shōgun like that?"
Having said that, he turned on his heel and left. As a result, though both he and almost everyone else believed he had taken the greatest number of heads in the battle, he was listed in third place. Of course, he was furious at this result.
Still, the days when he could go out and do battle were not so bad. It was when the battles were ended and everyday life returned that a man like Naozane, who lived only for the excitement of warfare, was at a loss to know what to do with himself. Other men used the reputations they had gained on the battlefield to enrich and advance themselves, insatiably. For when peace came, the military government in Kamakura had more use for the talents of politicians skilled in administration and versed in scholarship and the law—men like Ōe Hiromoto, who wore the "long sleeves" of the civil official. Warriors who formerly galloped their horses proudly over the battlefield now tried to win Ōe Hiromoto's favor and spent their energies on lawsuits and the quest for promotion. Naozane found the lot of them unbearably offensive.
One day he received a summons from the military government concerning a lawsuit, the kind of thing he hated most. His uncle Kuge Naomitsu had appealed to the military authorities in support of a claim to a portion of the lands in the Kumagai area, a claim which seemed utterly ridiculous to Naozane. The Kumagai lands had been in the family for generations, handed down from his ancestors to his father and from his father to himself. Everyone knew that. So why would his maternal uncle Kuge Naomitsu insist they were his? He couldn't begin to understand.
It was true that he had left the lands in his uncle's care when he went off to fight in the Genji-Heike wars. All the men of the clan, young and old, were leaving the Eastlands to take part in the wars; but that meant leaving his wife and child behind. So Naozane had been casting about for someone to take care of his family and lands during his absence. Calling to mind the pallid face of his uncle Naomitsu, he felt sure he would not be eager to participate in the campaign; moreover, being weak and sickly, he would pose no threat to Naozane's wife and child. He decided to invite his uncle over and make his request.
"I would like to join the rest of you and drive out the Heike, but I've been in ill health lately and I can't go just now. I'd planned to rush off to the wars just as soon as I'm better, though. But if you really want me to stay here and guard your family and lands, I would be willing to do so," said Naomitsu.
"Liar," thought Naozane. Of course he was not planning to join the campaign. If someone like him went off to battle, he'd die before he caught sight of the enemy. He'd be nothing but a nuisance in a military camp. Naozane wouldn't dream of taking him along even if he begged him to.
"I understand your desire to join the campaign, Uncle; but I'd be grateful if you'd change your mind and look after things here. I'd like you to move here and take charge of the fief, if that's possible for you."
At these words, a smile spread across his uncle's wan-looking face. "Your humble servant Kuge Naomitsu will be honored to guard your possessions in your absence to the very best of his poor abilities. Set your mind at rest as you go off to the wars."
So Naozane joined the campaign and, after winning much honor, returned to Kumagai. His uncle welcomed him back with a show of great humility, was as submissive to his nephew as a family retainer, and hurried to carry out any orders that were given. And not only that, he even anticipated Naozane's desires in the slightest things, without waiting to be asked.
Truly, his uncle had taken very good care of things while Naozane was away. His wife and child had lived free from care, and the management of the fief had been flawless. As a sign of his gratitude, Naozane gave him a portion of the lands in Chichibu which the government had allotted to him. Naomitsu, however, stayed on in Kumagai and continued to manage the fief. Naozane raised no objections to this: managerial affairs were a nuisance to him, and he was grateful his uncle was willing to handle them for him. Now Naomitsu began to fawn on his nephew and flatter him all the more, but Naozane disliked fawners and flatterers. He firmly believed that no man should lower himself that much to anyone whomsoever. And so he decided to remove his uncle from the household.
"I appreciated your looking after things during my long absence, but I don't like your ways, Uncle. Please leave my house." At this, Naomitsu left Kumagai without a word and moved to the lands in Chichibu which he had received from Naozane earlier.
And now, suddenly, there was this lawsuit. Naomitsu was claiming to have a deed of gift from Naozane's father, Naosada. How could there be such a thing? His father had also disliked Naomitsu; he would never have given him so much as a square yard of the Kumagai lands. Yet the deed of gift was supposed to grant a full half of the lands to Naomitsu.
If his uncle had written evidence in support of his lawsuit, then Naozane should have some of his own for rebuttal—even he knew that much. But why should documents be necessary in a case as simple and clear-cut as this, he wondered. Hadn't documents been invented in the first place only after human beings began to tell lies? His uncle's written evidence was a downright forgery, and downright lies should be met with an upright heart! If there was no dishonesty in his own heart, his uncle's deceptions would easily be revealed for what they were. Thus, Naozane took the matter rather lightly, not bothering to devise any countermeasures and going into the conflict unarmed, as it were.
However, since his uncle had appealed to the military government, the suit would be decided by a board of judges whose representative was Ōe Hiromoto, Naozane's bete noire. Naozane was unhappy about this, but there was nothing he could do: he had to respond to the government's summons. So he appeared unwillingly before Hiromoto, who first of all demanded that both he and his uncle formally identify themselves. When that formality was over, he showed Naozane the deed of gift and asked him what he thought of it. Naozane had to admit that the handwriting looked like his fathers, and the signature also seemed authentic. Finally, it was dated from a period when his father had been ill.
As Naozane tried to recall the events of that time, Hiromoto produced yet another document. This was addressed to Naomitsu's elder brother Naotake and included the following statement: "I am now ill, and my sons are often absent from the Eastlands, off on distant campaigns. They have no time to care for me. You and your brother, however, have been very good to me in my illness. I am most grateful, and I plan to give you my fiefdom, at some convenient time." Here too, the handwriting and signature seemed to be his fathers, just as with the deed of gift. For a moment Naozane himself wondered if his father might have written it; but he knew his father would n
ever have given his principal fief to others outside the family, setting aside his own sons to do so. No, he would not have done that, no matter how ill and weakened in body and spirit he might have been. It was a brazen forgery—it had to be!
"Certainly the handwriting and signature look very much like my father's. Or rather, were made to look very like them. But they're blatant forgeries—the deed of gift is a forgery, and so is this letter of intent. How dare you fabricate things like this to try to fool the authorities, you black-hearted villain!" He shouted out the last words, glaring fiercely at Naomitsu.
"I represent the Shōgun himself. You are not to shout in my presence. You had better calm yourself and respond to my questions. All right?" Then, after a short pause, Hiromoto resumed. "Why do you judge this letter to be a forgery? Give me your reasons."
"To hell with 'reasons'! In the first place, what father would set his own son aside and give his lands to an outsider? I am the eldest son and heir. 'Heir' means the one who inherits! It's self-evident that I should inherit all of my father's lands. And now this ungrateful villain comes up with some papers and takes me to court! His death would make the world a better place."
"You speak very threateningly," Hiromoto replied. "And 'heir' means the one who inherits, does it? What a learned man you are! But I have no desire to listen to your displays of learning. It is up to you to prove that the two documents presented by Master Naomitsu are indeed forgeries. We need written evidence that your father intended to leave all his land in Kumagai to you—that, or clear evidence proving that these two documents are counterfeit. Without one or the other, I regret to tell you that the judgment will go against you. Now then, may we see your evidence?"
Naozane felt anger boiling inside him as he listened to Hiromoto's slow, leisurely manner of speaking.
"I have the evidence. I have it right here!" he exclaimed, pointing to his belly. "We Eastern warriors do not tell lies, unlike courtiers from the capital. If you doubt my word, I will cut open my belly and show you the honesty of my heart!"
Hiromoto showed some surprise: "No, no, spare me that. I have no desire to see the nasty insides of your stomach. What is needed now is not 'the honesty of your heart,' but proper evidence."
With this, Naozane lost all control: "Never mind. I give all the land to Naomitsu!" Taking out his sword, he cut off his topknot and threw it in Hiromoto's long, horse-like face. He then walked out.
Naozane was sick, sick and tired of everything—of Kamakura, of the Shōgun's government, of warriors and all their ways. He wanted to flee from all three. Where would he flee to? He had no idea. He felt like running to the very ends of the earth.
His horse, however, seemed of itself to go westward, westward toward the capital. The reason was that the image of a certain man was burned into Naozane's heart. The day before the battle of Ichinotani, he saw by chance a monk whose appearance inspired awe. That monk was the holy Shōkaku, a disciple of Hōnen who was held in even higher reverence than his master by the aristocrats of the capital.
It was late by the time he reached Kyoto, but, ignoring the hour, Kumagai Naozane knocked at Shōkaku's door. The monk got up, wondering what it could be, and found standing at his gate an unkempt, hairy-faced fellow of rather fearful aspect. For a moment the holy man was frightened, but the other begged, "Save me, please. Help me. My name is Kumagai Jirō Naozane, and I have given up being a warrior to come here. They say you guide people to a good place called Amida's Pure Land—please, reverend sir, take me there!"
Of course Shōkaku had heard of Kumagai Jirō Naozane, the famous warrior. But why had he decided to quit his present life? The monk was still a bit uneasy, but he said to his visitor: "You have learned to despise the world, and that is a good thing. The High Priest Eshin, who laid the foundations of the Pure Land School here in Japan, said that the first step toward developing faith in the Pure Land is to despise this present, ugly world and separate oneself from it. But it is a very difficult matter to lead a brave warrior like yourself to the Pure Land of Perfect Bliss. It is beyond my abilities. I think the only one who could guide you there is my teacher, Master Hōnen. You should go and visit him tomorrow."
So the next day Naozane went to see Hōnen at his hermitage in Yoshimizu. When he arrived, the holy man had already begun his sermon. A great crowd of people were there, listening to Hōnen's preaching. Some were clearly aristocrats and others warriors, but most were commoners. There were evil-looking fellows who might well have been professional killers; voluptuous women who seemed to have given themselves more to the ways of love than to the Way of the Buddha; and dubious youths who looked too ignorant to understand much of what was being preached to them. Yet, strange to say, all of them were listening to Hōnen's sermon joyfully and attentively: "Now I ask you, my friends—which is easier, to travel by sea or by land? Of course, it makes quite a difference whether you go through the mountains or the plains, if by land, and whether the sea is calm or stormy. But taken all in all, wouldn't we agree that it is easier and faster to go by sea? By the way, where did you people come from? From Awa, in Shikoku? Then you came by sea, and I bet you had a pleasant voyage. A boat trip on a calm sea can be very pleasant! The holy T'anluan of China said that the Pure Land teachings are like a sea-voyage, fast and easy. The Way of the Sages, the other great Buddhist path, is much harder. It's hard to learn, and hard to put into practice. It's like going by land over steep mountain roads. Why would anyone cast aside the fast, easy, fruitful teachings of the Pure Land in favor of the slow, difficult, and less effectual Way of the Sages?
"The nembutsu is an easy practice that anyone can do, no matter how ignorant or foolish or wicked he may be. All you have to do is say the nembutsu: Namu Amida Butsu,
Namu Amida Butsu, Namu Amida Butsu. If you recite the nembutsu like this, then when you die, you will surely go to the Pure Land. It is not I who say this, but Lord Amida himself who does. When Amida Buddha was in this world in the form of a prince named Hōzō Bodhisattva, he made forty-eight vows. The essential vow was the eighteenth, which said that anyone who recited Namu Amida Butsu, or "Hail Amida Buddha," would certainly attain rebirth in the Pure Land. This is called the Original Vow of Amida; and Hōzō Bodhisattva, after making his vows, endured all kinds of difficulties and austerities and in the end attained buddhahood. He became the Buddha Amida. That's why we can say that if you recite Namu Amida Butsu, you are certain to be reborn in Amida's Pure Land of Perfect Bliss. Lord Amida guarantees it. Lord Shakyamuni praises it. And remember that the holy Shan-tao of China tells us that the nembutsu is nothing other than the recitation, out loud, of the Holy Name, Namu Amida Butsu. So, my friends, let us believe Amida, believe Shakyamuni, and believe Shan-tao! If you believe these three, then your salvation is assured with the words Namu Amida Butsu. So, let's say the nembutsu now, together: Namu Amida Butsu, Namu Amida Butsu."
When Hōnen began to recite the Holy Name, everyone joined in after him: Namu Amida Butsu. The recitation continued for a while until Hōnen broke off and began to speak again: "Now all of you can be certain of rebirth! But there are lots of people who disagree with my teachings, and I daresay there may be some among you who have doubts or questions about this Pure Land nembutsu doctrine. If you do have any doubts, feel free to ask."
One man put up his hand and began, "Most Reverend Hōnen, I understand that one can attain rebirth by reciting the nembutsu; but would it be better to recite in a very loud voice that can reach all the way to the Pure Land, so that
Lord Amida is sure to hear it? Or is it better to recite it to oneself so it can hardly be heard, since people say that the truest things are said in the lowest voices? What do you think about this?"
Hōnen replied with a smile, "If reciting in a loud voice ensured salvation, then crows and monkeys would be sure of Paradise. And if someone says it's best to say the nembutsu silently, then worms and octopuses would be the first to go to the Pure Land. What matters is not the size of your voice, but the purity and depth of y
our faith!"
Naozane thought the comparison with crows and monkeys and worms and octopuses very strange, but the crowd roared with laughter, clearly delighted with everything Hōnen was saying. Next, a voluptuous-looking woman raised her hand and asked a question: "Reverend sir, I am grateful to have learned the way of the nembutsu from you; but to my shame, I cannot forget the way of men and women—perhaps because of my sins in a former life. No matter how hard I try to give up the way of love and devote myself to the nembutsu, the image of the man I love keeps coming into my mind and breaking my concentration on the Holy Name. What am I to do?"
Having heard this question, the whole congregation turned as one to look at the woman. They all thought it only natural that a woman as attractive as she was could not forget the way of love. Everyone waited eagerly to see what kind of answer Hōnen would give to this particular question. Once again, he smiled: "Lovely lady, you seem to have a much heavier load of karma than most people. But Lord Amida has great love for people with heavy karmic burdens; he has said that he made his vows for them above all. If you can recite the nembutsu alone, do so; but if not sleeping with a man keeps you from reciting it, then say the nembutsu while in bed with your lover."
There was a great stir among the congregation at this reply, and it was evident that the people loved Hōnen from their hearts. "I hope this has resolved your doubts," he said. "Now, shall we all recite the nembutsu together?" The invocation began again, and grew louder and louder. As it did so, one voice in particular stood out, like the sound of a large, slightly cracked bell. It was the voice of Kumagai Naozane. He stood up, glared in Hōnen's direction, and shouted in a loud voice, "Reverend sir, reverend sir, I still have one question!" At this, the sound of the nembutsu ceased abruptly as everyone looked at Naozane. With shaggy hair and a bushy beard, he was a truly frightening-looking figure. Among the crowd, there were some who knew Naozane by sight. Soon, there were murmurs: "That is the famous Kumagai Naozane!" The murmurs grew louder until finally they reached Hōnen s ears.
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