I have always feared him.
His words sometimes held a terrible poison. I attempted to avert its horror or to protect myself with a preemptive strike, or pondered revenge—to take advantage of his slightest discouragement. Thus I pigeonholed myself into the despicable viewpoint of a coward.
Four hundred years ago, despite living together as the most intimate of lords and retainers, a dark abyss had already opened between us. Though rebellion fermented in my heart, I was afraid. After all, he had died on the losing side of the Otate no Ran and become an onryou because of the grudge he bore us. I had been one of the leaders of the winning side and felt guilty for my role in harming him. That was another reason I feared him.
It was only natural for him to blame me. I prepared various excuses to protect myself. I also asserted my own righteousness. That battle had been necessary; his death had been inevitable. But the more I tried to justify myself, the more I felt myself to be at fault. We had instigated the fight. Hadn’t there been a path that didn’t end with his death? Using the Sengoku as justification really meant we couldn’t be bothered to find another way, didn’t it? Before I knew it, I became convinced that he had the right to condemn me. The hurtful words he sometimes flung at me were his revenge. The feeling that he saw through even my sense of guilt paralyzed me.
Ten years, twenty years went by—and even though his own resentments and fixations faded, his awareness of me as someone who had harmed him remained deeply-rooted in his heart, as did my wariness of him.
That wariness itself eventually became a way for him to hurt me.
My understanding of his nature grew as the years passed. He saw people’s true selves. His insight pierced through to the self-serving calculations that lurked in our society’s dominant narratives and the darkness, meanness, and shame in the hearts of those who perpetuated them. I thrilled in his unmasking of others even as I feared becoming his target.
Even as the years passed, I never stopped fearing his uniquely poisonous words—which I thought were his form of revenge. At last I understood that his revenge was aimed not at me, but at all people.
I could not bear the feeling of being wholly exposed beneath his gaze; it was unendurable. It was as if he were constantly mocking my nakedness. His poison could not be neutralized with an adult’s insight, nor his criticisms brushed off; their intrusion left fever in their wake. Immunity was impossible; the best I could do was to put up a wall. Yet for some reason his words never felt wrong. At least they always resonated with honesty for me.
I hated him. Yet at the same time I was held deeply spellbound by his way of life.
He could see through to others’ cunning and dishonesty because he knew his own. His prickliness was his self-defense.
He lived in fear. I couldn’t leave him because I knew so well how desperately he struggled and grappled with his brittle cunning. I sympathized. He grew stronger even as he suffered, and in him I saw my ideal form—even while I both hated and fell in love with those menacing eyes which saw so clearly into me. After mocking and ridiculing me with that worldly-wise mouth, he would suddenly close his eyes and lean his weight against me. How was I supposed to fight the spell of rapture after pain?
I don’t know if this ‘fear’ has vanished with the transformation of our positions and outlooks. The bud of contradiction probably persists.
Pain is rooted in my essence.
If it’s the reason our relationship has become so twisted...
Perhaps we must conquest our own true natures.
Hydrogen sulfide erupted from the ground like a scene out of Hell. Even the steam was the yellowish with sulfur.
Blasted trees and the wreck of the cabins formed a tragic spectacle. Cement-gray hot mud bubbled and burst. An intense sulfuric miasma hung over the scene—most definitely harmful if breathed in. The density of toxic volcanic gas was substantial.
Kaizaki Makoto—no. Better that he be known by the name of the one in control of the body.
Naoe Nobutsuna glared ferociously at Kousaka through the steam.
The last time they had seen each other had been on a boat in the sea off Hiroshima two years ago. One had thought the other mortally injured in that battle, while the other had thought the first dead and purified.
Naoe had not been purified. The pages of his history were not yet shut.
Kenshin had saved him at Hagi
that night. Kenshin had given his soul enough strength to remain in the world.
But that soul was not inside Kaizaki Makoto. Kousaka’s exquisite spirit-sensing ability had revealed to him that Naoe was using spiritual waveform synchronization to remotely control Kaizaki Makoto. Such synchronization allowed one to freely manipulate the body of another after tuning their spiritual wavelengths together. The controlled became the robot of the controller. Naoe could use the input from Kaizaki’s five senses to make decisions and issue commands to his motor nerves. Thus Naoe used Kaizaki as his own body. Only in this case, the robot was unmistakably a ‘living human being’.
Takaya controlled the ‘Gohou Douji of the Swords’ and, in the past, the tsutsuga, in essentially the same way. That in itself was a sophisticated technique, but to do the same to another human being was skill on a completely different level.
“First of all, let me say: I’m impressed. It’s like you were made for this. But I wonder who gave you that power.” Naoe’s eyes—Kaizaki’s eyes twitched upwards. Kousaka snickered to himself without moving. “That man is a descendant of Satomi, hmm? Kaizaki, I believe? I heard Yoshitaka was showing him off. Cursed Satomi: considering how much trouble they caused, their destruction was surprisingly abrupt...now I finally get the back-story. So you were up to your neck in it.”
A thin-lipped Naoe glared even more intensely. “What is Takeda doing here?”
“Awa’s Satomi is here; why wouldn’t Kai’s Takeda be?”
“Stop messing around. Answer me.”
“What is going on with Uesugi? Our dear Kagetora-dono has mistaken someone else for his longtime confidante, while Naoe-dono is borrowing another person’s name and body to sneak around with the missing former «Nokizaru head». What wicked things are Uesugi’s esteemed staff officers doing behind their master’s back?”
“It’s none of your business.”
“Hmm, indeed. I see Irobe isn’t the only one with Kenshin. I would never have guessed things would take such a turn. How interesting. My ruse to trick Kagetora turned out not to be a ruse after all.”
“Ruse...?!” Naoe’s voice was full of wrath. “You bastard, what lies have you been telling Kagetora-sama?!”
“Relax. I only told him the truth a little early: that you defected and are controlling the Ladies in White under Kenshin’s direct orders.” Naoe’s face stiffened. Kousaka laughed. “I’ve been steadily accumulating information. Someone has been secretly using Ladies in White all over the country to guide Ootomo’s conquest of Kyuushuu and assassinate Ryuuzouji Takanobu. I found out some time ago that you Uesugi killed Ryuuzouji.”
“!”
(Then they were the ones who killed the Lady in White?)
Naoe’s brow furrowed. Their actions had been more exposed than he’d thought.
Takeda and Fuuma had been more alert than Kagetora and company because they’d always had their doubts about Kenshin. Having perceived the strange behavior of Ladies in White all over the country, they had conjectured that a chain of command separate from Kagetora’s had been established.
“Where is he?” Naoe demanded, neither confirming nor denying Kousaka’s words. His voice rang with menace. “I felt a charm pulse—Kiyomasa’s doing. Where is Kagetora-sama? I know you have him locked up here. Where is he?”
“Ah, so you came here looking for Kagetora?” Kousaka chuckled and narrowed his eyes. “And what will you do once you find him? You’ve been so intent on sneaking about behind his back. Now you’ve come to save him? Now considerate. But in the old days you raised Kagekatsu up as your general, didn’t you?” Naoe’s face stiffened slightly, and Kousaka laughed. “Kagekatsu’s personality and memories have been purified from Narita Yuzuru; he’s long gone. You want a weapon, not Kagekatsu. Eh, you’re all tools to Kenshin—Kagetora, Kagekatsu, and you. Though he certainly puts on a nice face, with his slogans of righteousness and discipline. When in fact he just wants to be the god who gets to rule over this world.”
“Lord Kenshin is not that kind of person!” Hakkai shouted. “They’re not slogans! Lord Kenshin is one who knows righteousness and discipline. He exemplifies the noble ideals that the «Yami-Sengoku» generals should obey!”
“That’s what you really think, hmm?” Kousaka snorted a laugh. “All the retainers of Sengoku generals say pretty much the same thing—that their own lord is worthy. It’s stated by invaders and religious sects alike: that the tribe they follow is righteous and that they have the truth on their side. You’re just repeating the same old rhetoric. Obey us, for we are righteous. Is that Kenshin’s excuse? How amusing. The message has been received.”
“Damn you...Takeda! How dare you!”
“No wonder Kagetora-dono has distanced himself. He is a sagacious person; he can instantly detect a villain. Besides, he is a child of Houjou. Lord Ujiyasu is alive and well. Why should Kagetora-dono confine himself to serving Kenshin until the end?” Kousaka’s sharp gaze was focused on Naoe. “Now that you’ve been demoted to Kenshin’s dog, why have you come running to Kagetora, Naoe-dono?”
Naoe clenched his jaws. Behind him, Hakkai snapped, “You Takeda and Houjou are only scheming to abuse Lord Kagetora’s power! Get out of our way!”
“I see. So you’ve come to eliminate Kagetora before he can be abused by your enemies. That’s it, isn’t it?”
“!”
Hakkai looked up at Naoe in surprise. Naoe glared intensely at Kousaka.
“Why don’t you say something instead of glaring at me, Naoe? Kenshin can’t knowingly leave something that dangerous lying around, can he? If he’s done with it, he’s going to clean up after himself. That’s what all this is about, isn’t it?”
“That can’t be true?” Hakkai asked Naoe doubtfully. “Naoe-sama, it’s not true, is it...? You’re not really here to—”
Naoe’s low voice forcefully cut him off. “I don’t have the time to banter with you, Kousaka. If you’re going to stand in my way, I’ll take you down.”
“I can see straight into the deepest parts of your heart,” Kousaka declared coldly. “After four hundred years of torment from Kagetora, you’ve thrown in the towel. You wagged your tail and jumped over to Kenshin as soon as he asked. Now you stand in the tormentor’s shoes. Are you going to take your revenge? Or are you going to make Kagetora prostrate himself and use him like a dog?!”
“...”
“That’s it, isn’t it? You lust after Kagetora; are you going to rape him like a woman once he capitulates? Or do you have some other equally depraved plan for him? You’re not even a fox borrowing the might of a tiger; you’re just a dog borrowing the might of a Kenshin. You disgust me, Naoe Nobutsuna!”
With a sudden dull scraping sound, a thin line of blood ran down Kousaka’s cheek. Naoe stared back at him, his fists shaking with overwhelming fury.
“Now you’ve done it—...” Kousaka looked down and smiled, wiping away the blood from the wound dealt by Naoe’s will with his index finger.
“You talk too much,” Naoe told him in stifled tones. “I don’t have time to listen to your twaddle. What are you planning to do with him? Himuka cultists saved him, didn’t they? What is your connection?”
“Heh...! Your aggravation is proof I’ve hit the bulls-eye. The Himuka cultists are our collaborators. They are assisting us to exterminate Oda and Ootomo from Kyuushuu.”
“What...?!”
“Kagetora-dono has officially sworn to revert to Houjou Saburou.”
“!”
“I told him: ‘Naoe Nobutsuna has sold you to us in order to save his own life.’ Kagetora-dono’s relationship with ‘Fuuma’s Naoe-dono’ appears to be quite volatile; he believed me readily. He hates you and Kenshin, and has vowed to fight you at our side. He will never return to Uesugi.”
“Truly?!”
“Kagetora-dono is our ally. If you are planning to kill him, then I must stop you by any means necessary.” Kousaka slowly filled himself to overflowing with fighting energy as his fine brush-stroked lips distorted. “Alas, you’re going to die here!”
“!”
Steam suddenly erupted from the ground at his feet. With a sound like a land mine exploding, hot mud gushed up in a circle around them.
“Graaah!”
Hydrogen sulfide blew right into his face, and scalding water vapor covered his field of vision. A searing wind scorched his throat and made breathing impossible. The hot mud raining down set the wreckage of the cabins aflame once more. Though he put all his power into a «goshinha», the tremendous force of the geysers plus Kousaka’s downpour of will were arraigned against him.
“What’s wrong?! Will you die here, ‘Kaizaki Makoto’?!”
“Ugh...!”
The car exploded in the onslaught. Kousaka’s attack was relentless. He had put a barrier in place before their arrival, and kept up a fierce assault without regard for the spewing gases. The «goshinha» was overwhelmed. Naoe and Hakkai flinched. But they weren’t prepared to surrender just yet.
“Graaaaah—!” Naoe roared, forcing back the geysers. The ground suddenly groaned, and lumps of hot mud launched themselves at Kousaka trailing odd tails. Kousaka repelled them one after another, and they broke apart with furious splashes. Naoe continued his assault relentlessly, and the battle became a fierce exchange of will.
“Ugh...damn you!”
From within the roaring Hakkai shouted at Naoe: “I’ll hold him...! Go after Kagetora-sama!”
“You can’t! He’s out of your league!”
“I am not unarmed! I’ll cover you—when he recoils, run! Guh!”
A sharp arrow of will hit Hakkai’s shoulder, knocking him back. A spray of blood stained his jacket.
“Hakkai!”
“I’m fine! Stop worrying about me—go!”
Naoe redoubled his willpower to force back the sulfuric gas and bulk up the protective strength of his «goshinha» to its maximum. At the same time, Hakkai retrieved something shaped like a small iron disc from his lower back. It looked like a flattened cone or a child’s spinning top.
“Naumakusanmada bayabei sowaka!” he chanted, and threw it high over their heads. The iron cone fly through the air, spinning like a top. The mantra he had used was Fuuten’s. The cone spun with tremendous speed, generating a wind that blew the hot sulfuric gas straight at Kousaka.
“Urgh...!”
As he flinched from the intense wind pressure, Naoe took off running toward the forest.
“You’re not getting away from me!” Kousaka yelled, flinging something black after him that elongated as it flew. It twined around Naoe’s neck like rubber.
“Guh!”
He uttered a choked, anguished yell. The object was no object at all, but a strange sort of shadow: «Dark chains» wrought from will, which the caster could manipulate as if they were solid. Firmly gripping its tip, Kousaka tightened the noose around his prey.
“I’ll rip off your puppet’s head!”
“Naoe-sama!” Hakkai shouted, interposing the iron cone between the combatants. The straining «dark chains» snapped and recoiled toward Kousaka, who lost his balance. At this critical moment, Hakkai pressed his attack hard.
As he chanted Katen’s mantra, the iron cone burst into flames and hurled toward Kousaka. The air howled, and the iron cone shattered Kousaka’s barrier with explosive force.
“You little...!”
“I’ll hold him! Naoe-sama, hurry to Kagetora-sama’s side...!”
“Then I’ll leave it to you,” Naoe said, and followed the water serpent into the forest. Kousaka tried to go after him, but Hakkai’s fierce attack thwarted him. How strange—the kanshousha Kousaka should not be fighting at a disadvantage against a mere «Nokizaru». No, Hakkai’s power had obviously grown!
“Damn you, Uesugi...!”
Now determined, Kousaka unleashed one counterattack after another. On the defensive now, Hakkai shielded himself. He filled himself with his power.
(If you have made your decision, I have only to obey, Naoe-sama...!)
“Graaaah!”
With a roar of flame, steam exploded in unison high into the air.
Fuuma Kotarou was surrounded.
From out of the deep darkness came palely glowing armored warriors who pressed in around Kotarou with swords drawn. Where had they all come from? They must’ve been packed into the fort near Takamori Castle. Akechi Mitsuhide and company had foreseen Kotarou’s actions.
“I implore you to return with me, Kotarou-dono,” Shimazu Toyohisa said in a low voice. “If you do so, Akechi-dono will disregard this incident. They trust you. If you regain your composure immediately, acknowledge your mistake, and allow me to escort you back: such was their directive.”
Characteristically, Kotarou glared daggers at him.
“I have no wish to cross swords with an ally. I have heard of you as a man of discernment who understands that there are some things which must be done. Please return to Akechi-dono.”
“What if I say I have no intention of going back?”
“Then I must stop you by force.” Toyohisa drew the katana at his hip with a hiss of metal. “This is Akechi-dono’s command: I will kill you.”
(Kill...!) Kotarou stiffened. (He means to kill me?)
Of course, this turn of events was not wholly unexpected.
‘Naoe has left Kagetora.’ —Killing the vessel he believed to belong to Naoe was the simplest way to manufacture this state of affairs. If this body vanished, it was as good as if Naoe were gone. Takaya would then probably believe that he had been betrayed.
Mitsuhide and the others would do everything in their power to obtain Kagetora, for they believed he was essential to the anti-Nobunaga league’s war potential. Their drive to reinstate him as a Houjou was so zealous because he was the only person with a «power» to match Nobunaga‘s. If Kenshin had joined the battle, then it was more imperative than ever that they made Kagetora theirs. Mitsuhide intended to win Kagetora over to their side. This scheme had been concocted to expedite the process, and that was why he could not allow Kotarou to go. Well, Kotarou going to Takaya’s side wasn’t a problem; ’Naoe’ going, was.
“You’re going to kill me...? You’re getting rid of me?” Kotarou muttered, face going pale. “I must not...let you kill me.”
“What?”
“I must not change bodies. This is ‘Naoe’s face. If I am not in this body, he probably won’t recognize me as ’Naoe’.”
“What are you talking about?” Toyohisa’s eyes widened. Kotarou touched a hand to his face.
“Saburou-dono...no, Kagetora-sama recognizes me because of this face. He won’t accept any other. I must not change faces. If I do, he’ll reject me...!”
“What are you saying?! It’s because you’re ‘Naoe’ that you must change vessels!”
“It’s because I’m ‘Naoe’ that I won’t betray him!” They were talking past each other. Kotarou lost his composure. “Once this body is gone, it’s gone forever. I’ll protect it if it’s the last thing I do...!”
Toyohisa stared. Kotarou considered his vessels tools; this was the first time he had ever become attached. More importantly, that attachment had been born of something very far from his mission.
(Reject...)
Kotarou shuddered at the words coming out of his own mouth. He felt as if all the countless wounds he had suffered at Takaya’s hands these past two years had all burst open at the same time.
“There are words you have to speak right now, aren’t there?! Something you should be doing?!”
“You don’t understand,” Takaya had said to Kotarou when he’d simply stared in confusion, unable to figure out what he wanted, and it had felt as if those words had expelled him from the category of proper human beings.
(Am I defective?)
Takaya’s words had been like an ill rain, and his rejection of Kotarou had soaked into him like a strange sort of liquid. At last his pride had caved, and the ground began to collapse beneath a conscious world he had hitherto never questioned; Kotarou was now drowning in the avalanche of debris.
Because he was playing the role of Naoe, Takaya was the ultimate adjudicator of his performance; he had to satisfy Takaya. Before Kotarou had become aware of it, Takaya had become his law. Takaya had become his Righteous Man.
Even so, when at first Takaya had expressed his discomfort, it had not shaken Kotarou so much. He’d assumed it to be something lacking in his technique. But the accumulation of repudiations had weakened his resistance and allowed the virus of doubt to invade him.
Takaya rejected his every response. His computer could not compute.
(Did I make a mistake in my calculations somewhere?)
(Are my formulas wrong?)
(Are my foundations unsound?)
(What am “I”?)
(Is something wrong with me?)
He was like a performer whose performance could not seem to satisfy his director; he had fallen into mental confusion. He’d hated Takaya for his rejection until he’d begun to doubt his own methods, his own abilities—which had then extended deeper and deeper until ultimately the doubt had reached his core and touched upon his own existence, his own character.
Takaya’s exhaustion had become a force that went to Kotarou’s core and judged his very essence. He had to become the Naoe Takaya needed. The ’Righteous Man’s acceptance of his Naoe would be Kotarou’s affirmation of himself.
(Am I doing the right thing?)
(Is this the way I should be?)
“I have to be at his side...” To do otherwise was not Naoe. Takaya would tell him NO. Kotarou was afraid. His brow painfully furrowed, he said as if in appeal, “I have to resolve his misunderstanding. I haven’t sold him out. No matter what happens, Naoe would never sell him out. That’s what he wants. I’m Naoe—I am! There’s no way I will admit to something I didn’t do.”
“Kotarou-dono, what are you talking about?”
Kotarou had to become Naoe. But Kotarou had not yet become aware that this was not the same as re-enacting ‘Naoe’s reality’. The ‘Naoe’ Kotarou aspired to was ‘the Naoe Takaya probably wanted’. Looking desperate, Kotarou yelled, “Move aside. Please don’t interfere. I have no time! He’s waiting for Naoe. I have to go. I have to clear up his misunderstanding immediately; I have to tell him I haven’t sold him out..!”
Kotarou was about to say something more but frowned painfully instead.
I need to tell him I’m here.
Then he would get to see that expression, that look of peace.
(Show me...)
Kotarou’s eyes opened wide. His chest tightened. What was this feeling?
When Takaya accepted him, he always called him ‘Naoe’. That was when Takaya allowed him to see his uniquely gentle unmasked self, which Kotarou had never known before. That was when he would smile his rough smile, close his tired eyes, lean his head against Kotarou... At those times Kotarou always felt a marvelous sensation, as if pure clear spring water were gushing forth from deep inside his chest.
When Takaya accepted him, when he was at peace, Kotarou felt gratified.
(I want to see...)
He wanted to see it again. It felt natural. He’d had no choice but to accept that it was what he wanted. Kotarou looked cautiously at his hands.
(I...want...)
When Takaya was at peace, when he called Kotarou ‘Naoe’, it was proof he affirmed Kotarou.
That was when he trusted Kotarou and allowed him in.
‘Naoe’ meant trust.
(I want...what I feel...then.)
The oil flowing through the robot had turned to blood.
(He is dear to me...)
It was what was required of him in order to understand the man called ‘Naoe’, and also to sympathize with Ujiteru. It had to be thus for him to have a hope of understanding Kagetora’s heart.
(Saburou-dono...)
Suddenly something other than fear and awe began to overflow his chest. Kotarou folded his palms around it, knowing that he must never run from what he had discovered inside himself again.
He grasped it tightly.
(That man...)
Toyohisa, looking at Kotarou as if at something bizarre, made his decision. He asked, “You refuse to heed my warning, then, Kotarou-dono?”
Kotarou came back to himself. Toyohisa signaled to his warriors with his eyes, and one by one they drew their swords. Toyohisa pointed his sword straight at Kotarou, its glinting tip aimed at his forehead.
“I will ask you one more time. Is this your answer?”
“...”
“You have no regrets?”
The blade reflected Kotarou’s defiant eyes.
“Then die without hesitation!”
“!”
Kotarou’s eyes flared wide. His hand moved. The soldiers’ swords, imbued with their spiritual energy, burst into blue flame. Toyohisa kicked off the ground as he shrieked his attack: “CHESTOOOO!”
The crystal in Kotarou’s hand emitted a sharp beam of light.
The character for ‘sword’ hung suspended within.
“Graaah!”
There was a metallic clang as Kotarou caught Toyohisa on the downswing at close quarters. Though unarmed a moment ago, he now held a short sword: the votive sword Ranzanmaru [Storm-Beheader], passed down through generations of Fuuma chiefs. Both swords were imbued with spiritual power, and they rebounded from each other with violent plasmatic discharges. The impetus made Kotarou stumble, and the armored warriors immediately slashed at him. Countless blades flashed in the darkness...!
(I refuse to die here...!)
Muscles throughout Kotarou’s body turned into those of a wild beast. Kotarou parried the warriors’ blades and ferociously counterattacked. Screams resounded. Warriors crumbled to the ground with their skulls crushed. Successive lunges scythed down his opponents. His beloved blade, so accustomed to his hand, howled like a living thing.
Zing...!
It felt as if he were cutting down bamboo. The forest reverberated with the warriors’ war cries. The indomitable Kotarou roared, “Graaah—!!”
It became a melee. With his single short sword Kotarou felled his enemies one after another. The Fuuma’s unique sword technique was ruthlessly efficient; it was as if his quarry came to die. But though he killed and killed, there was no end to his foes. There was no time to breathe. There were too many of them! Then Toyohisa stepped into the fray...!
“CHEEEESTOOOO—!!”
The air was filled with savage howls. Kotarou reflexively dodged. Blood gushed from his cheek.
“!”
His cheek had been split open. He hadn’t managed to dodge the blow after all, for the sword had come at him with amazing speed in a downward slash called ‘surging waves’. Kotarou repositioned himself. The Shimazu war-cry also had the effect of freezing their opponents for an instant; if his response came even a second late, he too would fall victim to that blade as it cut him in half in a single stroke.
(Damn you...!)
They practiced the Taisha style: a single mighty soul-charged stroke which was capable of cutting through iron.
Though wounded, Kotarou’s movement had not slowed. The Shimazu warriors bellowed and attacked with such a vengeance that it was difficult to believe they were wraiths. Kotarou concentrated and increased his reaction speed; he staked his entire soul on his blade.
(I cannot die here!)
He knew that absolutely.
“I refuse to die here!!”
The battle turned into an intense struggle to the death. Kotarou’s fighting exceeded human capability. His opponents were the Shimazu, who could boast of being the strongest in the Sengoku. It didn’t matter that they were now spirits. They were attack dogs who turned their enemies into mincemeat.
“Kill him! Kill him—!!” Toyohisa’s angry voice rang out. Horrifyingly, the Shimazu warriors all assumed Taisha style poses. These warriors of Satsuma held cowardice as the greatest shame. During the Battle of Sekigahara, Toyohisa had literally sacrificed himself in a sword fight to the death in order to allow his general Shimazu Yoshihiro to escape.
Blood sprayed as steel cut through flesh. Kotarou’s blood gushed and stained his ripped clothes from a gash on his shoulder. Yet he didn’t relinquish his sword. He continued to exchange blows with the hectic array of charging spirits.
(It has to be this body...!)
Kotarou’s eyes were bloodshot. A beast’s battle instincts alone animated his body.
“Why didn’t you come to help me?”
He could hear Kagetora’s voice beyond his own frantic wheezing.
“It’s impossible for you, isn’t it.”
“You’ve never understood, have you?”
(Saburou-dono!)
“CHEESTOO!!”
Sparks flashed as blade met blade. The enemy bore down on him using his sword-guard. Kotarou thrust him aside with all his strength. He was already scored all over his body. An average person would already have fallen to the ground. At lightning speed he wrapped a piece of ripped cloth around the hilt of his sword, grown slippery with his blood, and exhorted himself onward despite the dizziness from his loss of blood.
The enemy showed no mercy. The blows came relentlessly; there was no end to them. The bloodstained Kotarou could no longer seem to relax his grip.
“Mmph!”
Incessant exchanges. Toyohisa’s sword flashed toward him again even as an exhausted Kotarou countered the countless blades slashing toward him with murderous speed using heroic reflexes.
“Dieeee!”
A spark igniting deep inside his eyes, Kotarou roared like a lion.
“Graaaaugh—!”
There was the heavy sound of metal cutting through flesh. Blood spurted like a fountain. A lump of flesh fell to the ground with a dull thud: a hand still gripping a sword, cut off at the wrist—Kotarou’s right hand. As he turned, eyes wide, Toyohisa, now blind in one eye, slashed diagonally from the shoulder...!
“CHEESTOOO!!”
Kotarou immediately lunged toward the ground, grasped his sword with hand still attached, and slashed at Toyohisa’s feet.
“Uh...ah!”
Toyohisa collapsed as his pivot foot was hit. Kotarou pushed him down and climbed on top of him, thrusting his sword into his throat. Toyohisa’s death throes wailed from his wide-open mouth. Kotarou rolled away to avoid the spurt of blood. The warriors stabbed at him from behind. Tearing off the hand gripping the sword and tossing it away, Kotarou fought back even as his eyes swam from the loss of blood. His movements had slowed from the loss of his dominant hand.
(I’m not dying in a place like this...!)
Only one thought now kept him moving. Kotarou mustered all his strength.
“I’m not dying in a place like this—!”
Comments
Please don't die Koutarou! I
Please don't die Koutarou! I hope he switches bodies soon and retains that curiousness about his true self. Kousaka was harsh but did he tell any lies? I want to know what Naoe is really thinking, going behind Kagetora's and the other's backs. Who will reach Kagetora first? Will Naoe be furious at Koutarou for impersonating him?
Everyone needs to stop playing Kousaka's game
Kotarou gains a lot of depth in this chapter/arc, I agree, while Kousaka never seems to change, hahah. Makes me wonder why anybody takes anything he says seriously at all. After 400 years, shouldn't everyone be well aware of his tricks?
YES. Everything that you just
YES. Everything that you just said is what I was thinking as Naoe was listening to him. It should be obvious to the Yami-sengoku that Kousaka is a snake in the grass yet they listen to him anyways like he is genuine.
Hope springs eternal
Maybe people keep hoping they'll be able to separate the half-truths from the clever lies, but it's all poisoned. You'd think that Uesugi, who have their own ninja corps (+Fuuma), would be able to do better with intelligence-gathering than a bunch of crows. Or, if not, take a page from Kousaka's book and subvert the wildlife. :p