Pagoda, Skull & Samurai Read online

  Yamagata, who had been silent, rose from his campstool and gestured for Naitō to stop. "You owe us no apologies, General," he protested. "None of us here blame or resent you. Fate itself has brought this upon us. Is it not so, General Baba?"

  "I can see how General Naitō took to heart my remark that we had only ourselves to blame," said Baba, nodding in agreement. "It is quite estimable of you to reproach yourself for having antagonized Chōkan, but there is no point to self-reproach now. Who among us could criticize you? We are all bosom friends who have owed our survival each to the other through many battles. Errors of judgment are forgiven and forgotten among us. All the more reason why you ought to know better than to extend formal apologies to your comrades for an incident which was not entirely your fault.

  "In any event, to get back to tomorrow's battle, all of you must have already resolved to fight to the death. I do not intend to be the last, either. Perhaps the time has come for the House of Takeda to fall, if the devious advice of sycophants has become official policy, while our opinions are ignored. No matter how hard we rack our brains to perfect a strategy or how desperately we fight, there is no possible way for us to score a victory. Under similar circumstances some warriors are known to have eluded death to bide their time, but I could never bear to witness the downfall of our clan. I would rather die a valiant samurai's death. Such being the case, this is the last day I can share with my comrades, shaking hands and engaging in genial conversation.

  "Maybe we are lucky to have been born in a time of disorder and unrest. We have been blessed with a comradeship well tempered by life-and-death situations amid flashing swords and roaring guns; and we have come to know each other so well. I wish we could throw a farewell party in honor of the karmic mystery that has ordained us not only to live side by side in this life, but also to journey into the next with our armored shoulders abreast. I only regret that the time and the place preclude such a gala affair. But look! Here is the spring that must have given this hamlet its name; it is all but begging us to dip from it. Why don't we toast with its clear water instead of sake to bid our final farewell and seal our pledge to travel as one to see our late lord? What say you, my colleagues?"

  "You read our minds, General Baba!" Naitō and Yamagata exclaimed, breaking their somber silence. "All of us have read each other's minds. Among warriors braving common perils, there is but one resolution to be shared. At such a gathering, pure water is far more appropriate than sake to toast our immaculate hearts."

  As Naitō and Yamagata fought to suppress their tears, the other commanders bowed their heads in silent lament. An alert attendant of Baba's fetched the water in a cedar pail. Using the dipper he carried in his waistband, Baba took the first sip and then silently handed the dipper to Naitō, who in turn passed it to Yamagata.

  When it had completed the round of all present, Baba lifted himself to his full height and exclaimed, "How refreshing! This pure cold water coursing down my throat extinguished the smoldering fire of worldly desires. I feel as though my body is made of ice-clear bones and muscles, containing not a single thing in this world to distract my mind or hold my heart in bondage—a state of true purity. Tomorrow I shall demonstrate a fitting end for a Kōshū samurai. Until my bones are rasped down to quivering threads and my battle cries spray the red mist of hot blood, I shall not stop wreaking havoc and terrorizing Ieyasu and Nobunaga. Ah, what a delightful thought!"

  Gazing at the distant enemy encampment, Baba smiled a valiant smile so inspired and inspiring that it rendered his wrinkles nearly imperceptible. His comrades followed suit, rising and turning their eyes toward the enemy lines.

  "I won't be far behind, General Baba. Since this world holds nothing dear to me, I look forward to regaling the late lord with reports of the daring feats I fully intend to perform tomorrow." Naitō burst into a spirited laugh that would surely have chilled his enemy if any happened to overhear it.

  "How amusing! Nor shall I die empty-handed. I shall demonstrate my steel-hard spirit to my dying breath," declared Yamagata, the Demon. His words sent chills down the spines of his comrades, who could all but see his fiery eruption in the coming battle.

  The warriors gazed at one another, their surging emotion bespoken by the plaintive smile touching but one cheek and their grim resolution emanating in the sharp glint of their eyes, until the deathly silence was abruptly shattered by an outburst of weeping as uninhabited as a baby's tantrum. Whirling around instantly, Naitō demanded, "Who weeps so loudly? How odd! Not any of us here. Ah, Sanada, behind you! See the rustling bamboo bush beneath the magnolia blossoms: Someone seems to be lurking there. Go investigate."

  Gripping a commander's fan in one hand, Sanada approached the thicket and challenged, "Who's there?"

  A man rose from among the shrubs and strode into the center of the group; he then sat down on the ground undaunted by their collective gaze. "There is no cause for alarm. Some of you may not know me by sight because I have been in General Kōsaka's command for many years. I was stationed at the Kaizu checkpoint by Lake Biwa, except when I was engaged in intelligence activities in Echigo.* Let me introduce myself. I'm Kasai Dairoku Takahide, now serving in the division commanded by my uncle, Kasai Takatoshi, who is here among you," the man concluded, raising a sanguine face framed by a lacquer-black beard and as red as a jujube.

  Baba, Yamagata, and those who knew Dairoku returned smiling greetings, but Naitō, who had only made his acquaintance recently, and others who had never met him before still appeared perplexed.

  Sanada stepped up to Dairoku and sat down beside him on the grass. "Pleased to meet you. I am Sanada Masateru, a brother of Nobutsuna, whom you probably know. So you are Old Kasai's nephew, who, I was told in confidence, has been on a secret mission in the northern region. I am honored to make your acquaintance." The rest of the group then took turns introducing themselves to Dairoku, and all settled down on the grass.

  "Well, Kasai-dono, I believe you were weeping in the thicket a moment ago. What made you cry so?"

  Even before Sanada had finished speaking, the elder Kasai glared at his nephew, anger flooding his aged face, bony and angular as a rocky mountain stripped of surface soil. "Look here, Dairoku! What's come over you? I never thought you were such a fool. It was bad enough to find you, a low-ranking samurai, lurking on the fringes of such a high-echelon gathering, but even worse you had the audacity to squall so shamelessly. Even General Naitō seems to find it hard to understand. Now, answer Sanada's question.... Oh, blast it! Are you crying again? I can't bear the sight of those fat teardrops rolling down your red face. Speak! Explain yourself! You! Dairoku! Have you gone insane? Have you lost your wits? I hate to say it, but might not those be tears of cowardice in the face of imminent battle? If you can't answer my charge, get away from here this instant. I refuse to look upon that dastardly, craven, sniveling face of yours. Get up and begone! Today of all days when this old uncle of yours has but a few hours left to live, spare me a senseless disgrace the likes of which I have never known in all of my long life. You raving lunatic! If you refuse to get up by yourself..." The old man seized Dairoku by the scruff of his collar, straining to pull him to his feet.

  "Wait, uncle, please calm yourself," began Dairoku in a tearful voice, brushing off the elder's hands. "I am neither cowed nor deranged. I am still the same old Dairoku. If I'm a fool, nothing can be done about that, since that is how I was born. Anyway, I should be the one to ask your honors, 'Have you lost your minds?' I find it deplorable that you should be asking me that question. Since Sanada-dono kindly requested my explanation, I shall sum up my feelings, useless as that may be. My mind is so muddled by grief that I may offend such an illustrious company, but still I must speak my piece.

  "In the dawn mist this morning I left our camp alone to survey the enemy positions and to explore the ground we will cover tomorrow. I scouted the entire area on foot until sunrise and returned to the camp only to be told that my uncle had gone on a survey tour with your honors. Sin
ce I would lose nothing by retraversing the same route, I followed your track all the way here. Being of humble rank—barely on speaking terms with your honors—I considered it wise to retire behind the tree until you were done, rather than intruding recklessly. But even from that distance I was able to sense an atmosphere which greatly alarmed me. Then some of your words drifted within my earshot. How distressed I was when I finally fathomed that you were intent upon dying tomorrow! I'm too late!' I lamented. 'Never mind my inferior rank and experience. Had I arrived here sooner, before their minds were made up, I could have leaped out before the generals and done my desperate best to present my humble opinion and try to reverse their resolution. What a shame! Does my delay spell calamity for my lord, a stroke of luck for our enemy? Has my chance for altering the course of events passed forever? Will tomorrow see the able leaders, the backbone and spirit of all the Kōshū samurai, the limbs and fangs of our lord, fall at the enemy's hand in an act of futile heroism?'

  "Such a thought froze my heart and spread dark clouds over my mind's eye, obliterating any glimmer of hope in our path ahead. I do not mean to sound like a querulous woman or child, but I cannot help wishing General Kōsaka were here to dissuade you. Young and humble though I am, I take this liberty to express my bewilderment. I simply cannot understand why you have set your hearts so zealously upon death to the exclusion of all alternatives. I agree that the already unfortunate state of affairs seems daily to take a turn for the worse. Bewitched by the devil and by the sweet flattery of Chōkan and Atobe, the lord refuses to listen to the advice of his loyal counselors. So you have abandoned all hope, choosing death rather than surviving to witness the fall of our clan. But why stop there? Why not reassess the situation? Yes, I heard what had transpired at the last war council—how the agonizing remonstrances of the three senior generals were flatly rejected, while Chōkan and Atobe gained influence with their toadying. In your despondency you must have committed yourselves to the Buddhist motto decorating many of our banners, 'Forsake the corrupt world and aspire to the Pure Land.' Not only do I find it hard to deprecate you, but I even sympathize with your honors. Nonetheless, this is the very time when a warrior must be strong. Anguish is not to be shunned by a samurai. He honors his covenant with his master not merely through this life but beyond death, even if he must turn into a fighting demon to serve his lord. How sad, though inevitable, that you of unfailing loyalty should be so bent on deserting this world.

  "You doubtless need no reminding, but it was in 1569, I believe, that Lord Shingen launched an attack against the Hōjō family in Odawara. After a great deluge we came upon a river so swollen that it was all but impossible to ford the torrent. A certain Hajikano waded into the water to measure its depth and then urged his two hundred men across the river. 'I claim the honor of being the first! Follow me, men. Head your horse upstream, ride off the saddle, and give him rein to swim. Footsoldiers, interlace your spear shafts and arms to form a chain. Wade in groups,' he shouted, rushing his mount into the water. Swirling waves washed over his horse's back, the tassels of his breastplate danced on the river surface, and only the pennant carried high on his back was visible amidst the breaking waters. A gallant feat it was! Thereupon Lord Shingen said to an aide, so I was later told, 'Hajikano is a valorous warrior, yet I cannot love him for his aggressive competitiveness. By a shōgi* spear emblazoned on his pennant, he seems to indicate his determination to move ever onward, but I think it is senseless.' Some of you must have been there to hear it for yourselves. Had the lord cared nothing about Hajikano, he would have ignored him. His remark, though, was constructive criticism. Isn't it lesson enough for us to review what he said in the light of his own conduct? I may be committing the folly of preaching to Buddha, but please hear me out. While the late lord renounced even Hajikano's reckless move forward as senseless, you commanders, especially Generals Baba, Naitō, Yamagata, the hope and bulwark of kōshū, have no better idea than to charge the enemy lines seeking your certain death. Whether or not fate has turned against the House of Takeda, I am anguished beyond words. Upon losing all of you, the foundations and pillars of kōshū, what will become of the young lord? I cannot believe you are past caring, so what drove you to the drastic decision? The more I think of it, the more excruciating my agony. Can you blame me for crying? Or for wondering how you manage to restrain yourselves from crying?

  "Is there none among you who would retract your decision and try instead to survive as long as possible for the sake of the lord? Not a one? Oh, Hachiman and the god of Suwa, how unreliable you are! Have you forsaken the Takeda clan of the impeccable lineage? Loyal as these commanders are, they need only a spark of divine inspiration to light the darkness in their hearts and resurrect the valiant warriors in them! What a shame! Here are dreaded heroes who would strike terror into a demon's breast, now petrified like so many dead men. I have often heard that the pale shroud of doom stalks a man nearing his death, but until now I never realized how true it was. How eerie to behold with my own eyes someone whose shadow is fading fast. Has the sun fallen from the sky? Isn't this still the same world in which blossoms bear fruit and man's wishes are fulfilled? I beseech you, commanders, rally back to life!"

  Dairoku had delivered his plea lustily, his tear-washed eyes blazing. Nevertheless, the score of Kōshū veteran commanders, all but strong enough to conquer demons, remained speechless and immobile, like weathered statues of legendary heroes immersed in unfathomable thoughts, their eyes closed, their heads hung low and breaths bated.

  "Has my entreaty been lost on you?" cried out Dairoku again as he leaned forward, glaring fiercely and gnashing his teeth in desperation. "Is there no one willing to respond, to reaffirm the world so summarily renounced? What a pity your stout hearts only abet this unyielding silence! Is there not even one live soul among you, one solitary spirit loyal to life? Have you found flaws in my reasoning? Where is your well-known candor, General Naitō? Do you disagree with me, General Baba, Sanada-dono, Tsuchiya-dono? Anyone? I cannot believe, uncle, that you do not agree with me. How can you all be so unfeeling, when I am writhing in anguish right before your very eyes?"

  Dairoku's frantic cries rose in vain. The shadows of clouds sailed tranquilly across the sultry summer field, transforming the luster of armor into a somber, forlorn, leaden gray.

  Finally at the end of his patience, Dairoku pulled himself up on his knees and, unmindful of protocol, shuffled closer to Baba. "Do you still intend to die? Will you not live, General Baba?" he demanded in a voice trembling with rage, shaking Baba by the shoulders.

  Easily disengaging Dairoku's hands, Baba got to his feet and embraced him. "How wonderful that the House of Takeda is still blessed with one such as you!" exclaimed the general in his rugged voice. "Who can fault your sound argument! Nevertheless, our time has come. We are old, it is time for us to die, and this is a worthy occasion for it. If it were merely a matter of personal preference, we might be influenced by your pleas. But we cannot defy the time, the circumstances, the event, and fate itself. Please try to understand why we choose death. It is because we are in no position to do as you ask. I am not distorting logic, may the god of kōshū and Hachiman be my witness! Please watch me, spirit of Lord Shingen! This fate is far beyond our control. Perhaps you have much yet to learn, Dairoku-dono. In any event, you must live. I beg you simply to consider the emotions driving the rest of us, who have only our lives left to give in our lord's service. Who would not prefer to live to see his lord prosper in glory? As ill luck would have it, we have been forced to our drastic resolve in the slim hope that our deaths might later prompt our lord to mend his ways, if only out of pity for our sincere effort. Since we accept this as our fate, we deem it beyond right or wrong. We are neither ashamed to be accused of misjudgment nor cheered by vindication. That is all there is to it. Today I have met a man of spirit, but I am powerless to respond to his impassioned plea. Leaving us no time for a heart-to-heart talk, death will come tomorrow to separate us eternally. A misfortune
of having been born into chaotic times—how I regret it! Please don't misunderstand me, but I hope you will manage to survive and observe the consequences of tomorrow's battle. I rely upon you to be a living witness. I do implore you, Dairoku-dono. This will probably be the last time we see each other, for I shall go to my death no matter what." His eyes widened with determination, Baba firmly clasped Dairoku's hand and stared into his bearded face.

  Unable to find words in the face of the old warrior's immeasurable anguish, which clearly overrode any possibility for reversal of his stand, Dairoku fastened his unblinking eyes upon Baba's face. One deathbound in the twilight of his years and the other adhering to life in his prime—the downturned and the uplifted eyes of two dauntless men conducted a boundless and wordless discourse transcending the realm of life and death.

  The spell was abruptly broken by the piercing cries of a cuckoo bird flitting past overhead, unseen in the drifting clouds. Immediately regaining his composure, Baba swung his eyes up, sprinkling a few icy teardrops over the flaming face of Dairoku.