White stuff began to lightly fall on the mountains of Aso as the weather grew sharply colder.
At the top of Aso, the restoration of old Bouchuu continued. The ritual platforms for the ‘Ritual of the Great Fire Wheel’ were divided into a main platform at the crater and a supporting platform at its foot. The latter’s main purpose was to maintain the crater ‘site’ where the magic was to be performed, and Naoe and the other Uesugi were in charge of it. The restoration of old Bouchuu was necessary for increasing the power of the supporting platform. Restoration didn’t mean rebuilding the group of temples,however. Instead, five-story pagodas were being installed on the sites where the temples had once stood, and would take their place. Even ruins of religious structures like temple buildings still emanated Buddhist power, and were ideal locations for performing esoteric Buddhist rituals. The foundation stones of old Bouchuu were all that remained, and excavations were incomplete. Investigators with spirit-sensing abilities were picking out temple ruins one building at a time, and a five-story pagoda was placed at each site to fortify it. Given the massive scale of the ritual, stabilizing the ‘site’ was naturally a good idea.
“There are fifteen or sixteen buildings remaining on the west side,” said Ichimata Akizane as he watched the work in progress. Uesugi men dressed as mountain ascetics were systematically placing five-story pagodas on the field of dry grass over the extensive network of old Bouchuu ruins, then casting the site fortification spell. “Old Bouchuu used to have as many as 36 monks’ halls and 52 hermitages. But now, as you can see, it’s just a grassy plain.”
“Were they burned down?”
“Yes. It’s said Ootomo’s army burned them down, but that is not true. It was probably Shimazu. Shimazu destroyed the Aso Clan and invaded Aso. —This is the five-story pagoda we’re using.” Ichimata showed Naoe. It was of unglazed pottery and about 30 cm (~1 ft) high. It was an odd hourglass shape, and its five rings were meant to represent, from the top: sky, wind, fire, water, and earth. The five-story pagoda symbolized the enlightened world of Dainichi Buddha. “The middle section, representing the fire ring, is of special importance to the Ritual of the Great Fire Wheel. The practitioner wears red.”
‘Fire ring’ also meant ‘sun.’
"We’ve been especially careful with the barriers over old Bouchuu: this will be our center for controlling
sun power. A large temple will eventually be built here."
This was to become the control room for the generation of sun power. The current site was a desolate field with nothing but five-story pagodas standing on it—almost like the Children’s Limbo—but Sourin intended to rebuild a magnificent temple here someday. As in the old days, a group of Mt. Hiei-like temples would rise.
However, these temples would not be Buddhist, but Christian—every last one.
“Lord Sourin is a bold man. I thought Christianity abhors pagan magic most of all.”
“For my lord, Buddhist magic is just another skill, like constructing buildings, generating electricity, and so on.”
The ethos of taking advantage of whatever came to hand was, indeed, typical of Sourin. It wasn’t quite the same thing as tolerance, but in his pragmatic mind, he was able to cleaning separate faith from technology.
A light layer of snow covered the withered field of the Children’s Limbo. A bleak brown mountain mass could be seen on the other side of the grassy plain, a white plume of smoke rising from its hillside—the Middle Peak’s crater.
Even for a mountain it was quite cold. As darkness fell, Aso temperatures dropped below freezing. There were several fires burning nearby, but Ichimata, concerned for Naoe’s health, urged, “It will be a while yet. Let’s go back to the main camp.”
Naoe and the others got back into the car and drove about a kilometer (~.62 mi) back down the road. There they found a facility called the Volcano Museum, which was of course fully heated, occupied by Ootomo, and closed to the public. Ichimata had planned to have Naoe rest there, but at Naoe’s request the car drove on to the Kusasenri observation platform on slightly higher ground.
Once out of the car, they had a panoramic view of Kishima Peak to the left, Middle Peak to the back, and Eboushi Peak directly in front of them. The ridge-lines of Eboushi Peak cradled a basin-shaped plain about a kilometer across. This shallow bowl in the mountains was called Kusasenri Beach. It was the remains of an enormous ancient volcanic crater. At its center was a gently sloping hill called Komatate Hill with a pond to either side. These were said to be the remnants of old craters.
From spring to summer, Kusasenri turned into a beautiful grassland covered with a carpet of green where cattle and horses could be seen leisurely grazing and drinking water in idyllic pastoral scenes. It was a relaxing tourist destination, but this time of year there were no cows or horses to be seen, and the withered grass gave only a sense of loneliness.
“In the country of fire: great Aso’s mountains/autumn in the high horse-gamboling plain/the thousand-li grassland beach whose very name is sorrow,” Ichimata recited for some reason, looking at Naoe. “It is a poem written by a poet named Miyoshi Tatsuji. This view reminds me of it.”
“Oh? I see. I feel like I understand. It is a mysterious and wonderful landscape that compels poetic sentiment.”
But now it was filled with the spirits of warriors rather than cows and horses. Their spirit-bodies varied widely, many still retaining their living appearances. Among them were pallid faces and crumpled bodies, and some looked unstable, as if they might lose their shape at any moment. —These were the soldiers Ootomo had gathered. They would fight against any who might interfere with the incantations.
“It is a force 8,000 strong. We don’t know what might happen.”
As an ally, it was a reassuring number. Yet—
“Kagetora-sama intends to fight against his friends!”
Naoe’s brow furrowed deeply without his realizing it. But I am not in a position to leave right now.
He still feared the worst-case scenario.
Yet he could not deny that there was a strong something in his heart that beat in contrary rhythm to his anxiety. Was the nature of this emotion contradictory to or the other face of the feelings that gave rise to that anxiety? Naoe didn’t know, but he was aware of a power that was liable to goad him with an intensity that would silence all his pangs of guilt.
Isn’t this your first step?
(Because I’m supreme commander—...)
Naoe gazed at the desolate grassland extending toward the outer rim. A cold wind rose from the withered field with its thin cover of snow, adding impetus to Naoe’s unease.
Beside him, Ichimata shouted something. Naoe came back to himself and looked toward Kishima Peak. He saw a black car heading toward them from the foot of the mountain. It was a exceedingly stately car which seemed to assert that the person inside was special.
“It appears he’s arrived.”
The car kicked up snow on the sleeted road as it climbed. It quietly parked in the parking lot of the observation platform.
A few men dressed in ancient ceremonial court robe got out. The last to do so was a well-built man in black Shinto priest garments who climbed out of the back seat of the stateliest foreign-built car.
Ichimata knelt and assumed a bow proper to a retainer.
Naoe held his spine very straight. When he reexamined his own value as a human being, he didn’t doubt that he had chosen the right path. That was what he continued to think. It had not been forced on him; he’d made the choice out of his own free will. Naoe looked straight at the other man without flinching or fear and slowly got up from the wheelchair.
This was—his first true step.
The man who had gotten out of the car was in the prime of his life. He had white hair and sharp eyes.
This man was the king of Bungo, Ootomo Sourin himself.
Their formal meeting took place in the museum building near the main camp. The terraced windows on the south side of the building looked out over the vast spread of Kusasenri.
Naoe’s impression of Ootomo Sourin differed slightly from what he had expected. He‘d never imagined a rugged sort of man, but neither did Sourin correspond to a ’local politician’-type, like he’d thought. If anything, he was an entrepreneur: the president of a company that had started out as a local enterprise whose growing business was still rooted in the local community, perhaps. Or a leading figure in local finance. He was a man who seemed suited for one-man jobs.
“I’ve been hearing rumors about Uesugi for some time. To tell you the truth, I was surprised; surely Uesugi would not become onshou in the «Yami-Sengoku»... However, there is no ally more dependable. Everyone must want to have you on their side. I feel as though I’ve won a beautiful woman over a crowd of other men. We Ootomo must be everyone’s envy,” Sourin announced complacently, ensconced comfortably on a leather sofa. An ostentatiously large cross glinted on his chest. “I have heard rumors of your former lord, Kagetora-dono. About the destruction of the Houjou of the Kantou, about the sea battle of Itsuku Island. Though I also heard, Naoe-dono, that you were shot dead by Mouri in Hagi and, with no way to perform kanshou, had been purified.”
This information had come from Shimozuma Rairyuu and Fuuma Kotarou, who had happened to be at the scene, and had spread throughout the «Yami-Sengoku» in the form of secret intelligence which Sourin had obviously also acquired.
“—Indeed. In that state it was impossible to perform kanshou on a living body,” Naoe answered in a low voice, remembering. Kanshou took unparalleled power, for it expelled the soul which was the owner of a body and took possession. It was a scuffle in which a soul which had already rooted itself was pulled out root and branch. To drive out a resisting opponent by force required more power than a simple «nenpa». Of course, Naoe hadn’t had that kind of power at that time.
“That was why—I performed kanshou on my corpse.”
“A corpse? That’s insane. Then that body—”
“I have lived for four hundred years, but I have never done anything like this. In other words, my dead body was resuscitated.”
Sourin’s eyes as he stared at Naoe were as dark as if he were looking at something grotesque. Naoe smiled faintly.
“Happily, I had several pieces of good luck. My remains were cremated soon after my death, and the fire used was spirit-fire lit from Hakone Shrine’s holy oil.”
He‘d learned only afterwards that the holy oil was called ’dragon oil’ harvested from the scales of a dragon. It was used to purify the bodies of those who had died unfortunate deaths, and it had the special property of reacting to a certain kind of spiritual power.
“Most importantly, Lord Kenshin lent me his power. Without his help, I would not be here today.”
At first Kenshin had intended to use his power to give Naoe permanent possession of someone else, but Naoe’s spirit had itself been too weak to withstand kanshou. Thus he had been forced to return Naoe to his unresisting corpse and attempt to regenerate it. The possibility of returning the fire of life to a body in which it had already been extinguished, however, was exceedingly low. He had carefully applied his power to a heat so small it couldn’t even be called an ember. Fortunately, the cremation spirit-fire had reacted well to Kenshin’s spiritual power. It had been a microscopic operation. Somehow he had managed to rekindle a small fire in one of the cells.
He had cautiously, over a very long time, divided the fire to other cells. Nikkou, the holy precinct of Tokugawa Ieyasu, had aided him in this work with its own power. There in the womb of the sacred ground, he had patiently devoted himself to the resuscitation. It had taken a year for Naoe to wake up, a year and three months to breathe on his own, a year and a half of steady rehabilitation to stand. For him to be here now had taken almost two years.
“In other words, that was how much Kenshin-dono wanted you to be the general of the New Uesugi. I suppose you are able to use «power» as well.”
Naoe was silent. —He did not seem inclined to say anything more.
“I see. This must be Uesugi Kenshin’s true feelings after all. Perhaps Kenshin-dono has never been able to completely trust Kagetora-dono, who is after all a son of the Houjou. I suppose, during his previous life, he intended for Kagekatsu-dono to succeed him.”
“As for that—”
“The past is past, eh? Indeed.”
Naoe’s eyes opened a little wider as he looked at Sourin.
He didn’t regard Naoe as his equal. It was clear from his manner that to him, Naoe was nothing more than ‘Kenshin’s deputy’. In fact, he referenced ‘Kenshin-dono’ throughout in an attempt to probe into Kenshin’s intentions, not Naoe’s.
“I am grateful for Uesugi’s support in this endeavor. Ootomo in the west, Uesugi in the east. I hope you will tell Kenshin-dono we Ootomo will be pleased to return the favor the next time he conducts a large-scale operation in the east.”
“Of course.”
“No onshou has ever counted Christian soldiers in his army. Their numbers are unknown, but they are a force with great potential. We Ootomo will gather the power of the Christians with Aso as our base. I intend to name it the ‘Kingdom of the Sun’. Please relay everything you witness in proper detail to Kenshin-dono.”
Yoshie and the other Uesugi vassals who were standing by looked rather displeased, probably unhappy with the fact that Sourin was not treating Naoe as the supreme commander of the Uesugi. Naoe was not Kenshin’s messenger. Ootomo’s vassals were also embarrassed, but there was no one in a position to remonstrate with Sourin. He saw Ichimata’s apologetic expression out of the corner of his eye.
He’d expected something like it, so it hadn’t exactly come as an unpleasant surprise, but—
Naoe had another strange suspicion he didn’t know what to do with.
(It it had been him...would this man have behaved in the same way?)
If nothing had changed, it would have been Kagetora sitting here. He would have been standing watchfully behind Kagetora, observing the opposite party’s caliber and character and innerly sneering with arms folded.
(Because ‘I’ am the one being scorned?)
If it had been Kagetora facing him, Sourin might have taken a different attitude. Of course, though they were both ‘supreme commanders’, Kagetora was also Kenshin’s son. Still, surely he would behave differently with someone whom he considered a fellow human being.
(If it had been him...?)
If Kagetora had received the same treatment from Sourin, if he had found Sourin’s pompousness distasteful, he would have boldly stated his objection. And Naoe, at Kagetora’s back, would naturally have added a word or two of banter. —Why couldn’t he do that now?
Speaking to Sourin, he found a man who indeed deserved to be called ‘the King Who Quelled the West’—a man with a strong personality and odiously violent prejudices. The fact that he was not simply a ‘self-centered coward’ was bothersome.
“Ootomo’s ‘Kingdom of the Sun’ will be the realization of the ‘Christian kingdom’ we would have created in Mushika. We will build a cathedral in Bouchuu that will rival any in Rome. It will be a beautiful thing. The ‘Ritual of the Great Fire Wheel’ is magic worthy of Ootomo, conqueror of the west. Here in Aso.”
Naoe felt more and more suffocated. He now knew what it was to have no one’s back in front of him. In other words, he was now facing the aggression and venom (of the big guns) head-on. There was no wall.
From behind the wall he could think whatever he wanted. Yet Kagetora had always taken these suffocating ordeals on himself without flinching.
(I thought I knew that very well—...)
He felt a strange loneliness in his heart. Did such weakness make him look small? Yoshie, who was watching from behind him, looked quizzically at Naoe’s back, which exuded neither arrogance nor drive.
(Supreme commander...)
“I am sure you have heard about the human impact of the sun power dam, but allow me to give a supplementary explanation,” Ichimata spoke after a pause. Naoe must look small in Sourin’s eyes as well; he could see that, too.
“What happened to Julia? And the «Golden Serpent Head»? Kumamoto seems to be in a state of chaos.”
“Yes. We’re utilizing all possible means to gather information.”
Naoe suddenly came to himself and looked at Ichimata.
“We are making preparations to begin as soon as Julia-dono returns.”
“She is quite a formidable woman, isn’t she? She always does what she says she will do.” Sourin folded his hands over his stomach. At this point, neither he nor Naoe knew what had happened at the old castle. “We will wait at the crater’s main platform. How is the activity at the Middle Peak?”
“You can see the current state of the crater on the second-floor monitor. Two crater cameras have been installed.”
“Are the soldiers ready?”
“They are.”
“Good. At sunset, we’ll place Tateno under total lockdown and establish a barrier over the caldera. The ‘Ritual of the Great Fire Wheel’ is about to start. Everyone, put your hearts into this fight for Ootomo!”
Sourin stood and headed for the stairs, accompanied by his entourage. He didn’t even bow to Naoe. Naoe watched Sourin disappear down the stairs and finally rose. Yoshie, who was at his side bracing him, said with concern, “Is something the matter? Are you not feeling well?”
“No—no, it’s not that.”
Yoshie seemed displeased with Sourin’s manner toward Naoe. Perhaps he thought Naoe could also have done more to emphasize his status as ‘supreme commander’. Naoe guessed his thoughts.
“—I allowed him to. It is better to let Ootomo think that they are the masterminds. Uesugi’s display of power would make them cautious.”
“That is true, but...”
Naoe put on a mask of impassivity—he didn’t want to tell anyone about his bitter inner reflections. An image of Kagetora’s back came to his mind. How strong the headwind he’d faced to move ahead.
(I thought I understood him...)
His mouth tasted bitter.
Naoe frowned slightly as he slowly stood, gazing at the stairs where Sourin had gone.
The true Himuka faith crumbled.
After Saeki Ryouko took down Yasuo—
She rescued Takaya from the cave. Fortunately, only the entrance had been blocked by earth and sand. Ryouko carried Takaya to the brim of the outer rim. At the top of the northern outer rim was a vast meadow. A cold northerly wind blew across the endless winter-desolated grassland, making waves. They landed there.
“You really do fly without wings, don’t you?”
“Yes. But I have heard that each flight shortens our lives.”
He looked at Ryouko with a surprise.
“He didn’t tell the bird-people because he didn’t want to frighten them. Enoki-san and I were the only ones who knew.”
I see, Takaya thought. They were cutting short their own lives in order to fly.
Kihachi’s head lay next to Ryouko. She had retrieved it from Yasuo’s arms.
“You’re badly hurt,” Ryouko said, sitting Takaya upright on the grass and unbuckling the belt that bound his hands. She placed her hand on Takaya’s chest. The luminous flame stone began to give off a faint heat, which gradually spread to the tips of his fingers. The pain of his wounds faded as if he had been anesthetized. Ryouko took out a handkerchief and wrapped it as a bandage around the little finger of his left hand, the worst injured. Her work was deft and gentle—she was indeed a good medical student. He felt warm, probably thanks to the luminous flame stone.
“The cold should be a little more bearable. If you don’t do anything rash, your wounds should heal with time.”
Takaya snorted a laugh. “Yeah, you don’t wanna give Kihachi damaged goods, do you?”
“The luminous flame stone...” Ryouko said, “will be fully absorbed by your body it in ten days. You’ll have to recuperate on your own after that.”
Takaya looked at Ryouko suspiciously. She had purged the followers who had gone out of control. Next was recovery of Asara. Then with Takaya as vessel, she would be able to restore the Kihachi tribe as ‘superhumans’. If she was acting according to Enoki’s dying wish, those had to be her next moves. Yet—
She said Takaya’s name in a low voice and asked him a question contrary to his expectations. “I have heard Motoharu-sama say that you have the power to send the dead to the other world. Is it true?”
“You mean the «power of exorcism»?” Takaya returned warily. His gaze fell to the palm of his hand, and his lips curved self-mockingly. “What are you going to use me for this time?”
“Can you use your power to allow the spirits sealed in the head to rest in peace?”
Ryouko’s unexpected proposal took Takaya by surprise a second time. Her look was full of entreaty. There was no falsehood in her eyes.
“—You’re serious?”
“...”
“You’re willing to allow Kihachi to be purified?”
Ryouko’s eyes fell, and she quietly asked, “Can you do it?”
“I don’t know,” Takaya said cautiously. “We don’t even have a complete picture of the scale involved. All the onryou it swallowed up in the city must have swelled the total considerably. That group on its own would have been difficult enough for an individual to purify alone. I’d need the assistance of some other power. I don’t know if there’s an effective way. Even if a solution can be found, it’ll take a considerable amount of time to both determine the scale of work and make the necessary arrangements, etc.”
“I don’t care how long it takes. In the meantime, I’ll hide this head where no one will be able to touch it.”
“You’ve forgotten about Asara,” Takaya said calmly. “No matter where in the world you hide it, Asara will be able to find it.”
“She won’t come looking.”
“What do you mean?”
Takaya’s eyes widened as he looked at Ryouko, who refused to look up.
“You’re going to kill her?”
“...”
“What in the...”
What had changed her mind so drastically? Takaya was about to ask, but instead closed his mouth.
The split in her comrades had come as a shock, but for Ryouko, her grief at Enoki’s loss was greater than anything else. Enoki’s presence within her was too big for her to rise and carry on his legacy.
A gaping hole had opened in her heart.
While chasing Takaya, Ryouko had seen the destructive power of Kihachi’s head in Mikuriya’s hands, and it had finally shaken her faith.
The spirits of the Kihachi tribe would be fused together and reborn as a single ‘superhuman’—born as a living god. So they believed. But was that really a good thing? Wasn’t it, rather, a very dangerous thing?
They had been trying to turn Kihachi’s hatred into something positive, to help the disadvantaged.
But was using power to help someone really helping them?
The truly downtrodden desperately wanted power—true power, not measly consolation. But this ‘power’ sometimes made losers into winners and winners into losers—and wasn’t that liable to stir up greater conflict rather than stopping it? Above all, wasn’t it simply too dangerous to give power to a single ‘superhuman’ with a ‘personality’? Kihachi was not an omniscient, omnipotent god. He gave power to those who resonated with his grief. They had called it healing, but what was true ‘healing’? How could his power save people from the sorrows and pains unique to them? Could Kihachi’s power be used to save people?
Ryouko had trembled at witnessing the might of Kihachi’s head.
People of the modern age probably underestimated the horror of the resentment of ancient onryou. Hatred is hatred—she felt the reality of Mitsuhide’s words now. They had thought that the various every-day sorrow and anger that resided in their hearts could resonate with those of Kihachi and Asara. Their assumption that they would be able to understand each other had been too naive. There was no sympathy; there wasn’t even the hint of a willingness to understand, Ryouko felt. Their anger was rooted at different depths. Though the emotion was the same, they were like ‘a grain of sand and a mountain range’. The sadness and anger of the living could fade away as they went about their daily lives. But their anger had a life of its own; it lived of its own volition.
(In other words, I’m afraid).
She could justify herself all she wanted, but that was what it came down to. If Enoki were still with her, it might have been different. He’d probably have had some encouraging answer for her. But Ryouko could find none of those answers on her own.
“We said that we were going to revive the Himuka nation, but we probably all knew somewhere in our hearts that we were going to use Onpachi-sama for our own benefit.” Ryouko purposely chose the word ‘use’ with its connotation of arrogance. “I’m probably disqualified as a believer. I knew it was going to get scary, and I was prepared to die. I understood nothing at the time. I think I was drunk on passionate words.”
In truth, the mere sight of Kihachi’s head next to her frightened her so much that she felt as if she might run away in the very next moment.
“The voices of Enoki-san and Ikeda Faith-Protector urge me forward: We have done so much hard work; are you going to ensure it all comes to nothing? What will happen to our legacy? But...”
The living were no match for the dead. Ryouko was at a crossroads, lost and confused.
After a moment of silence, Takaya said haltingly, “It’s not just the courage to overcome fear.”
What? Ryouko’s expression asked. Takaya added in a low voice, “There is no shame in turning back. Simply sticking to the path isn’t courage. Admitting that you are afraid also takes courage.”
When a person could no longer tell whether or not they were afraid—that was when they walked the road to destruction. Such had been the case for Japan during the war. Takaya could recall an abnormal world which had lost its tenderness and become mentally rigid.
“Those who cannot pause when they’re being pushed will all someday face destruction. We can change direction as many times as we want. Everyone has the right to turn back. To set yourself free—to forgive—that is nothing to be ashamed of. It’s nothing to be ashamed of at all.”
Ryouko looked at Takaya in surprise. She felt her heart unexpectedly ease.
“Ougi-san...”
“You can say that to others...”
Takaya could hear ’that man’s voice in his ears.
“You can say that to others, so why not to yourself?”
Takaya lowered his eyelids in exhaustion. If he knew he would be destroyed, why? If he didn’t retreat now, he would be destroyed.
(Even if I know it—)
“Once all of this is done, I’ll go to the police,” Ryouko said. She wanted to tell them everything. Whether or not they believed her, the truth was that she had killed someone. She seemed to have made up her mind. “I’ll go kill Asara myself.”
Takaya gazed silently at Ryouko’s profile—the last of the bird-people.
“Are you sure you’re okay with that?”
Ryouko closed her eyes instead of answering. Seeing this, Takaya understood her feelings.
The wind blew across the winter-desolated meadow, and there was a faint smell of earth. Takaya scooped up a little soil and wrapped it in his palm as if to check the earth’s temperature.
“What will you do?”
Takaya looked into the distance with the wind against his face. After thinking for a long time, he finally answered slowly, “—I think I’ll...go to Hagi.”
“Hagi? Um, in Yamaguchi?”
Takaya nodded. There was no sparkle of surging life in the depths of his eyes, only drifting fatigue and emptiness.
“I want to get my memories back.”
“You went crazy.”
Even if that was true. Going back to Hagi didn’t mean he would return to normal. But if he could find even one thing to fill in the missing memories.
Takaya let out a faint sigh. His heart was as desolate as these winter grasslands. The dry north wind seemed to rouse emptiness. He put his hand over his eyes and smiled self-mockingly.
“It wasn’t because I liked it that I was general.”
It had been a request from his adoptive father—the most important person in the world to him, the one whom he respected more than anyone else.
It had been a request from someone who loved him very much.
“You are my son, Saburou.”
There within the cold wind, Takaya heard a faraway voice over the withered field. He recalled the events of that distant day as if it had happened only a short time ago...
“I will give you my name: Kagetora. Henceforth you may call yourself Uesugi Kagetora.”
(Because you...needed me.)
Kenshin’s words had been so very precious to him because they acknowledged that he was a person. More than anything, he’d wanted his own path in life.
(Because you taught me—)
“You’re going to Echigo, Saburou.”
When he’d heard Ujimasa’s decision, Kagetora had realized that his brother didn’t even recognize him as a commander.
A ‘hostage’ was not allowed volition. Saburou had been the black sheep of the closely-knit Houjou. Instead of being allowed to nurture his bond to his brothers during that critical period of his childhood, he’d been sent to Kai. The Takeda had treated him wholly as a a ‘hostage’. He’d grown up with the constant fear of knowing that he would lose his life if anything happened.
He’d been conscious of the difference between himself and his brothers. But after returning to Houjou, he had become one of seven brothers. He’d been desperate to make up for the years he had spent away from them.
And then had come the night of disaster.
(That night—it’s carved into me.)
Takaya covered his eyes as his brows furrowed.
Among the men who’d gang-raped him had been a protector he’d trusted like a brother, but he no longer wanted to recall that fact; he no longer wanted to recall the deeds or circumstances. Not the vulgar laughter or jeering voices, the violence that had silenced his resistance, stopped his mouth, pinned his hands and feet...
He didn’t know why they had done those things—he no longer wanted to know—but it wasn’t their scheming or betrayal that had left indelible scars on his heart.
He had not been a person to them in that moment. He’d had no individuality. He’d been prey. He’d been a piece of meat to be fucked.
He’d been trampled root and branch. It was as if he’d been told, “You’re not worthy to be a human being.” Rape was not simply violence. It was a negation of your humanity without a second thought. It was like being told you were the most worthless person in the world.
The rage and humiliation had come after the shock.
Something...very important to him, that had been wavering unsteadily, had become irrevocable; an insurmountable distrust had reached deep into his soul and carved itself there.
Ever since then, his heart had been...his heart had been screaming
And it had never stopped...
Going to Echigo—
He‘d already given up; he’d had no expectations. It had simply been the beginning of a ’hostage’s volitionless life’. There had been ice in his heart. He’d had no hope at all. Yet what had awaited him had been a person who had completely overturned Kagetora’s expectations.
A mysterious and wonderful person.
Kenshin had been a general unlike any other he’d ever met. Power he’d had, but he had not flaunted it. He’d been a man who had transformed the muddiness of life into a transparent sharpness through some magic of his personality. He had vividly reminded Kagetora of a blade tempered by a master hundreds of years ago. His eyes had seemed to be gazing at somewhere far away, even when he’d been looking at what was in front of him. —But this unworldly sword-human had not been cold in the least. In his depths there had been a hidden glow that had made others yearn, which had confounded those who saw it.
What had surprised Kagetora was that Kenshin had been serious about adopting him as his son.
Was he amazingly soft-hearted? Or too naively honest? No one in their right mind would truly adopt the child of someone who had been their longtime sworn enemy until recently. Carelessness might lead to his usurpation. But Kenshin had been in earnest. Completely so. Once he had shown friendship to someone, even an enemy with whom he had crossed blades many times, he trusted them to the very end. He opened his heart and never doubted the other. He was the essence of sincerity. Kagetora had never seen such a person before.
Kenshin’s ‘straightforwardness’, which had seemed clumsy at first, had released Kagetora’ heart from its cage of ice.
When Houjou had unilaterally broken off the alliance, Kenshin’s rage had been terrible—but all of that rage had been directed at the fact that Kagetora hadn’t even been consulted. When he’d learned of it, Kagetora had been stunned.
Why was he...
It had been a mystery.
How could he trust him so completely and unconditionally from the very beginning, this man with whom he shared no blood, whose character he didn’t know? How could he do something like that?
(He accepted me unconditionally...)
Kenshin had had little contact with his blood relations. He had cherished Kagetora as if he had found an outlet for affection for the first time. Kenshin, who had never known the love between father and son, may have been clumsy in the way he had loved Kagetora, but his caring had been obvious. Kagetora’s lonely heart had perceived it almost painfully.
“You shall succeed me as Guardian Deity of the North.”
(You acknowledged me.)
That unconditional trust had given his wasted heart an unimagined light.
Kagetora had tried desperately to live up to Kenshin’s expectations. He had frantically tried to improve himself so that Kenshin, who called him a genius, would not be disappointed—would not shun him.
It had been as if two lonely hearts were trying to pull each other closer.
(Your trust made me so happy, Father.)
Thereafter, Kenshin had adopted Kagekatsu.
(I am sure you have no idea...)
How shaken he’d been.
Others probably dismissed it as a weak ego. Perhaps that truly was all it had been. But Kenshin’s words were of great importance to him. The name ‘Kagetora’ was the key to the door which opened onto the path where he could live as ‘himself’.
You needed me.
Was to disappoint you to lose the meaning of my existence—...?
“Become my successor as Guardian Deity of the North...”
Though he tried to use words like ‘respect’ and ‘ideals,’ in the end perhaps that had been his motive for accepting the position of general of the Meikai Uesugi Army.
(...And it’s been four hundred years, huh?)
Takaya laughed at himself. What was he doing? What had he been doing for such a numbingly long time?
(What have I been doing...?)
A life in which a dead person stole the body of a living person to continue to live—
As his life drifted into unfocused meaninglessly, he met someone.
A man unlike any he’d ever met before, whose never-before known emotions crashed into him. Whose never-before known stare pierced him.
His quiet eyes, armed with reason, were striking. Sarcasm and banter came easily to his lips. He viewed the world with disillusioned eyes and rarely made a show of his feelings. He seemed a heartless man who disdained those left at the mercy of their emotions. And in the chest of his cold man was a hidden cache of heat.
(Naoe...Nobutsuna...)
Feeling as if he had been brought back to the reality in front of him, Takaya sighed in something like resignation.
(I don’t want to think about you anymore.)
People said that he had died two years ago in Hagi and had been purified. Yet he was now the new general. What did that mean? He didn’t understand.
(The truth.)
If he could get ahold of it, Everything would become clear. And then...
(Enough,) he tried to tell himself. He didn’t have to live like this anymore. (I’ll go to a place where I can forget everything.)
All the memories of four hundred years.
About Naoe, that cold, kind man...
And about his own existence—
The image of Kenshin on his horse came vividly back to life when he closed his eyes.
(Lord Kenshin—)
The undulating grass sounded like ripples. The sea of Echigo carried away his bitterness and anger. The sea rumbled in Takaya always. High and fierce, always...
Takaya quietly rose and walked toward the cusp of the cliff. He closed his eyes and quietly hugged himself, as if trying to feel the rough surging sea of the north in the Aso wind.
Kenshin did not answer.
Perhaps he was no longer even worthy of hearing his voice.
(Father...)
“I want you to protect Kagekatsu.”
Takaya’s eyes opened wide. Yuzuru’s anguished face overlapped with that of Kagekatsu.
“Ougi-san?” Ryouko’s voice startled Takaya back to his senses. In an instant the memory of that moment was gone from his mind like fire blown out by the wind. He looked back at Ryouko sharply with a hint of disquiet in his eyes. “What should I do now?”
“Now...” he muttered, still shaken. He forced his mind back to what was in front of him. “...Right. In any case, the sooner you act, the better. Hide that head. Somewhere safe so it won’t fall into the hands of Asara and the onshou.”
Takaya was about to say, “Take it and go,” when he hesitated. Where? We cannot use any place within Uesugi’s influence. Where else would it be safe? Turning it over in his head, Takaya suddenly recalled a certain place.
Ujiyasu—his biological father—should be there. Takaya vacillated. It meant relying on Houjou, whom he had abandoned. It meant overtly borrowing Houjou’s power.
He hesitated, but what choice did he have? He could no longer count on any of the Uesugi for help.
“Lake Ashi?”
“Yeah. The dragon god of Lake Ashi will probably lend you his aid.”
“The dragon god of Lake Ashi?” Ryouko’s eyes widened. “Do you mean Houjou Ujiyasu?”
(What...?!)
Takaya looked at Ryouko in surprise. Her expression changed into another person’s.
“It must not be. That cannot happen.”
“You—”
“Who would give Houjou the «Golden Serpent Head»?!”
Takaya caught his breath. Ryouko had been possessed. When had it happened? He hadn’t sensed it until just then. And this tone of voice!
“Ougi Takaya! You’re really a Houjou, aren’t you! We will not let an invader from a foreign land lay a finger on our «Golden Serpent Head»!”
(This woman...)
Takaya paled.
He swallowed.
(It’s Mikuriya... Juri...!)
Comments
“Kagetora-sama intends to
“Kagetora-sama intends to fight against his friends!”
This is crazy to me. The fact that they had the audacity to use the word "friend's" when they betrayed Kagetora is ludicrous! Not a one came up to him personally to talk to him about taking a step back until he regained control of his powers. They just swiped him under the bus and had to find out about it from the enemy. Clearly Kagetora was not the only one to lose his mind.
I am glad we are getting a little perspective from Naoe's side. The doubt and uncertainty he feels from others being projected onto him from a first row perspective instead of a bystander perspective is fresh and it shows that although he made the decision to take over as the new leader, he is still Naoe. The man who has an inferiority complex who is still chasing Kegtora's back. Maybe he thought this was the one chance he had to become equals with Kagetora but he now knows it takes more to gain respect as a leader other than to be promoted as one. As they say, "you have to earn respect to gain respect".
Kagetora keeps taking blow after blow. I am surprised he is still conscious at this point!
“I want you to protect Kagekatsu.”
I don't know if Kenshin was actually calling to him in this moment or if this was an auditory hallucination but if it was the former he would have a lot of nerve to come to Kagetora at this point in time asking him to protect someone else when he is being hunted himself, because of Kenshin. Takaya needs to take an all around vacation (mental & physical) from everyone/everything to take some time for himself and to figure out who he is and what he wants to do. He sounds like he is close to giving up or to becaming an Onryou himself. He was never truly given a choice to do what he wanted in life before death or after. He was just a tool for every man in his life to use until they had no further use for him and now they are still chasing after him to do the same thing, in the present. I would not know what to do if I were him.
How did Mikuriya not have her soul snatched when she had Kihaci's head in her hands? At what point during her demonic chant did she exist stage left? Clearly no one noticed.
My brain physically hurts
My brain physically hurts when I try to pretzel it into a perspective from which kicking Kagetora out of his post, hunting him, and then expecting him to come quietly when told is somehow reasonable. Hakkai and Irobe are probably the closest embodiment of this: serving a lord = blind and total obedience. Except that historically-speaking, this cultural shift happened more in the Edo Period than the Sengoku--which would make sense, wouldn't it? Japan unified under Tokugawa rule, they'd want to make a concerted effort to bring unruly samurai in line.
Naoe even mentions in-story that in the Sengoku, there was an expectation that samurai looked out for #1 and bailed if their lord was about to fall (and there was a lot of falling). Yamanaka Shikanosuke was celebrated for his loyalty not because it was commonplace, but because it was exceptional.
So yeah, from a psychological perspective, the Uesugi are making NO f'king sense. They betrayed Kagetora first, but they're somehow surprised when he turns his back? Sure.
Naoe's POV is interesting, but his explanation of how Kenshin revived him makes no sense to me either, lol. Conclusion: it's all magic, *waves wand*.
Takaya, sigh. And everyone is still trying to take agency away from him, even (maybe especially) the people who say they love him.
Mikuriya is proving the Power of Christianity here, come on! Spoiler: it's also magic.
If they are still acting as
If they are still acting as if they were in their original time period, in the present, then their actions would make sense (to them) but usually the Japanese are always promoting how loyal the follower were to their lords/masters so it is confusing trying to make sense of their actions and culture.
As I have been reading this story surprisingly I have not thought of their abilities as 'magic' but rather as a spiritual thing that manifests in physical form some how but that is because of all the religious aspects of the story. Speaking of religion, I did not expect Mirage of Blaze to be so religion centered.
As usual, the truth is
As usual, the truth is somewhat less romantic than the propaganda. :)
You know, I doubt even practicing Buddhists would protest my characterization of Esoteric Buddhism as 'magic' very much. XD