The second winter since Naoe Nobutsuna’s ‘death’ had arrived...
Amidst the «Yami-Sengoku»’s intensification, Ougi Takaya was still busily engaged with exorcism of the onshou, just as he had been two years ago. As soon as an incident was detected he rushed to the scene to settle matters with his rhapsodic command of «choubukuryoku». Thus the days passed.
He had not changed much since the Itsuku Island
incident.
Ougi Takaya was just the same as he had been when he’d woken up in Hiroshima.
He had not stopped thinking of Kotarou, head of the Fuuma ninja corps, as ‘Naoe Nobutsuna’. He had not managed to snap out of it. He never seemed to question it: he called Kotarou by Naoe’s name, treated him like he would Naoe.
He felt neither grief nor a sense of loss. Naoe’s ‘death’ had gone unrecorded in Takaya’s history. To Takaya, ‘Naoe’ was right there. This was his reality.
When I wake up, you’ll be with me.
Chiaki and Ayako had tested Takaya’s recollection of the series of events in Hiroshima. At the end of their inquiry, they‘d concluded that he didn’t precisely believe all of the events on Itsuku Island had been a ’dream’.
He considered the ‘Yamato’, ‘manju’ and ‘kanju’, and the fight with Nobunaga more or less ‘reality’. There were a lot of peculiarities in that ‘more or less’, but that was the only way they could describe Takaya’s perception.
At times he’d given some simply outrageous answers.
The most striking were those involving the events at Hagi Castle.
“I met up with Naoe at Hagi Castle.” he’d claimed, and when asked what Naoe had been doing there, Takaya had searched his memory, tilted his head to the side, and smiled a puzzled smile.
“Who knows?” he’d answered.
“You don’t remember?”
At which point Takaya had smiled quizzically.
“—...Naoe was with me the whole time.” he’d replied, unconcerned. Yet he had also answered that Kotarou and Chiaki had been working with him at the naval castle. He accepted that Naoe had not been there.
When they’d touch on Ujiyasu and asked when he’d been with Takaya, Takaya had again repeated, “Who knows?” Like someone with dementia, Takaya would tilt his head and fail to give a straight answer when asked about the particulars right before and after Naoe’s death. He couldn’t connect before with after.
He had erased Naoe being shot from his memory.
Then there were the many ‘dreams’. He’d seen Ujiyasu in dragon-form at the beach in a dream. But according to Kotarou, it had actually happened: after Naoe had died at Hagi Castle, Ujiyasu had met him at Susa and taken him away.
In any case, those events were vexingly nebulous in his mind. He had the gist of things, but his answers regarding details and inconvenient events changed every time he was asked about them, until the exchange grew more and more vague. When pressed on his contradictions and asked for explanations, Takaya would only repeat ambiguous answers.
Takaya had lost his mind.
When they forced him to clarify, Takaya was unable to answer. Yet he didn’t think it was strange that he couldn’t answer.
Other than that, he was completely normal.
What was this haze around the events surrounding Naoe’s death, and what was this lack of concern regarding that haze? Was this also a result of his strong delusion?
Takaya was not cognizant of his own abnormal state, which was precisely why he was ‘out of his mind’.
In any case, Takaya was now with ‘Naoe’. He‘d shoved Naoe’s death into a chest marked ’dream’, and now resided in the camouflaged reality he had willfully created.
“How are your injuries?” Kotarou asked.
Back in their hotel room, Takaya sat down on the sofa by the window and looked outside.
It was past two in the morning.
Takaya was still brooding. He hadn’t said a word in the car.
It was probably the shock of injuring a vessel.
“...”
Kotarou tactfully started making coffee. He held out a mug to Takaya. “Here.”
“...”
Takaya finally turned to him. Perhaps the scent of coffee calmed him; he finally broke his silence to say: “Thank you.”
“Are your injuries all right?”
“...They’re fine. Just scratches. Showering’s not gonna be fun for a while, but that’s the way it is.”
“I’m glad you were able to resolve the matter successfully.”
“...”
Takaya’s expression turned grim. He had not recovered from his shock. His mistake had resulted in serious injury to a vessel, and he was seized with guilt. The matter had not been resolved successfully.
“...It’s fucked up...” Takaya bit his lip. “This shouldn’t have happened. I should’ve been able to save him...”
“...”
“I killed him...” Takaya dug his nails into his knees. In his deep regret he gritted his teeth and glared out the window like a savage dog. “Why did it end up like this? It’s been weird lately; my will keeps slipping out of my control for a split-second like something suddenly slipping out of my hands. What the hell is this? Why is this happening?”
“...”
“...I killed him...!”
Takaya’s fists trembled. He suddenly slammed them down on the table. Kotarou gazed coolly at Takaya, not at all shaken.
“Perhaps you are tired? Sometimes your will can slip if you are unable to concentrate.” Takaya’s shoulders quivered. His skittish eyes fixed on Kotarou. “An unlucky vessel. Sometimes death is unavoidable. It was his misfortune to have been possessed by Narimori.”
“Unavoidable? Misfortune?” Takaya lifted his eyes in anger. “You can’t just dismiss it like this! I killed someone tonight! With these hands! Someone I should’ve saved...! It’s not just something slipping or not slipping out of my hands; tonight my «power»...!”
“It was his fate to become a casualty of war. There is no need for panic.”
“Fate...?!”
“Yes. Despite your efforts, the dead man is dead. Feeling responsible for another’s death will only harm you. You should bend your thoughts towards that which might yet be recovered or which will confer an advantage on you; to be fixated on that which is already lost is not rational and will only handicap you.”
“...!”
Takaya impulsively kicked the chair as he stood.
“Advantage? That’s not the point, Naoe. Stop talking about life and death as if they were money or goods. Harm or not, do you really think a person’s life can be treated like a commodity?”
“It’s a good comparison. There are no ethics to life and death. In this day and age, people who have forgotten war treat death too seriously. Don’t you think they enter into the pretense because otherwise they would not fit into this society? This is an era in which conscience has run rampant. Conscience regulates freedom of speech and places too much emphasis on life and death.”
“!” Takaya’s fury mounted. "That’s complete rubbish! You don’t understand anything!
“You pretend to believe things you really don’t. You have no interest in the death of anyone who is not personally related to you.”
“Are you...calling me a hypocrite?” Takaya glared with the force of his entire body at Kotarou, whose expressionlessness was as iron. “I can’t believe you, I just...can’t believe you at all! I fucking can’t believe you! You don’t understand my feelings at all!”
“Kagetora-sama, calm down.”
“You have no fucking clue! If you knew how I feel, you’d never say something like this!” Takaya yelled—then his shoulders jolted in realization. “Or is it because you do know?”
Kotarou’s eyes abruptly widened. "...Kagetora...sama...?
“Is it? What were you hoping to accomplish? Does it make you happy to see me like this? Does it give you pleasure to thrust me away? What the hell are you up to? No matter how much I call out to you, you can’t hear me at all. Do you enjoy ignoring me? Are you having fun completely avoiding me, evading me, spurning me?! When did you become this person?!” Kotarou was stunned. Takaya continued in agitation, “Is this your revenge? Your revenge against me...to deliberately ignore my feelings, shun me! Your revenge for the four hundred years I’ve bound you?! Or is it...!”
“...”
Takaya jolted back to himself, Kotarou had turned pale, his face stiff. Was it because of those last few words?
Takaya choked back the flood and took a deep breath to compose himself. “...I’m sorry for yelling. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Don’t let it bother you. I just got a little irritated...”
“Kagetora-sama,” Kotarou said, “Are your tired? Perhaps rest would be better than talking.”
“...No. ...No, I’m fine...”
“You look pale. Please lie down. The exhaustion of your mind and body affects your ability to concentrate and will hinder you in battle. You need sleep. I will retire. I will await you in the lobby tomorrow morning.”
“...”
Takaya didn’t respond. Kotarou gazed at him for a moment before giving up. “Well then.” He turned to leave.
But Takaya muttered haltingly, “Why...”
Kotarou turned back to Takaya to see with surprise that his face was downcast as if he were about to cry. But he was mistaken. Takaya was furiously choking back frustration.
“Why...I don’t understand...”
Takaya’s meaning was unclear to him. He frowned. “Have I offended you?”
But the question only made Takaya bite his lip in even greater frustration. After a moment of silence, he clawed back his overflowing emotions and forced serenity over his face.
“It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it, Naoe.”
“Kagetora-sama.” It was then that the hitherto calm Kotarou displayed the first signs of uneasiness. “Are your wounds paining you? Or...”
Takaya sank into silence. Kotarou couldn’t understand the reason for Takaya’s irritation. Though he recognized it had been caused by his own words or actions, he didn’t understand what he had done wrong.
“Kagetora-sama?”
Takaya’s eyes slid shut with a look of pain, and he turned his back to Kotarou—yet his every sense was fixed on Kotarou’s presence.
But Takaya waited in vain for the movement he sought. Kotarou only stood there looking at Takaya’s back.
The silence stretched, to be broken by Takaya’s voice: “Naoe...”
“...”
“Isn’t there...anything you want to say to me...?”
“Anything I want to say?”
Kotarou knit his brows in puzzlement. Takaya turned and repeated, “Isn’t there anything you want to tell me?”
“Kagetora-sama, your meaning is—”
“There must be something you want to say! Words you have to speak right now! Something you have to do! Something only you can do!”
Kotarou’s face stiffened in agitation. He hadn’t the faintest clue what that something was supposed to be. Takaya’s frustration peaked at this lack of understanding despite his unsubtle hinting.
“...”
Glaring at Kotarou, Takaya rose once more, reached for his own shirt collar, and tore it viciously open.
“...!”
Buttons flew, exposing his right shoulder and chest and the painful-looking wounds sustained from his earlier battle. In hushed tones, Takaya pressed, “Do you still not understand?”
Kotarou only stared wide-eyed at Takaya’s strange behavior.
“...Kagetora-sama...”
“—Isn’t there something you should be doing?” Takaya demanded as he eagerly flaunted his wounds, “Are you going to leave me like this? Do nothing, walk away? You’re not, are you? Are you?!”
“...”
“I want you to...!” Takaya said, but could not continue; he glared at Kotarou with pleading eyes.
Kotarou showed no signs of moving.
Takaya bit his lip again in frustration and wrapped his arms around himself. “You’re not...interested in me anymore?”
“Interested...”
“—You don’t...want to do anything to me anymore?”
“...Kagetora-sama...”
“You no longer want...anything from this body...?”
Kotarou stared at Takaya. Takaya was motionless, holding his breath. Kotarou couldn’t grasp his meaning.
Takaya closed his eyes in defeat. “... Forget it.”
He put his shirt back on. Kotarou was frozen in place. Takaya walked quickly past him and opened the closet for a change of clothes, an expression of cool rationality back on his face.
“You may retire. Be in the first floor tea lounge tomorrow morning at eight. We’ll meet and discuss the investigation report. Tell Haruie and Nagahide for me.”
“Understood!” Though he felt awkward, Kotarou recovered his usual thick-skinned continence and nodded. “Excuse me.”
With a conscientious bow he left the room.
After the door had closed Takaya ran his fingers through his fringe and buried his hands in his hair.
(Why...?)
Takaya didn’t understand this ‘Naoe’.
He couldn’t obtain what he longed for. No matter how hard he tried, that which had always been his for the taking was no longer there.
He couldn’t get it though he yearned and yearned; and like a starving child, it frustrated him.
(Why...?)
Was he doing it on purpose? Was this revenge?
Payback for four hundred years of suffering...
(Or—)
Was Naoe oblivious to Takaya’s desires? Or had he recognized it and was deliberately depriving Takaya of what he wanted? But if he had noticed, surely he would have reacted? He hadn’t even given Takaya that much.
(I don’t understand you.)
He understood so little, it was driving him crazy.
Suffocating, Takaya closed his eyes.
That headache pounded at his temples again. Takaya pressed against his forehead. This pain had been growing in frequency lately. It felt like a warning. Like an alarm bell ringing...
(Shut up...)
Takaya thought at no one.
(Shut up, please.)
An image flashed into the back of his mind. A red like fresh blood, a blood-stained body, a scene that felt too dangerous to look upon directly. They flickered into the intervals between a pain which had become all-too-frequent of late...
(Shut up...)
Takaya slumped down, both hands pressed against his forehead.
“...”
Kotarou was still standing outside the door, rooted to the spot, looking toward the room.
Faint distress marred the normal stoicism of the finely chiseled features.
“He injured the vessel? Kagetora?” Ayako repeated, grimacing reflexively.
“Yeah. That idiot, he lost control of his «power» again. He released too much energy and seriously injured the vessel. He’s not gonna make it.”
“Wasn’t he cured? Didn’t Kagetora say he’s okay?”
Chiaki tsked. “He’s not okay at all. And now look. Now we’ve got a dead guy on our hands. He wouldn’t acknowledge there was anything wrong without a casualty turning up, that asshole.”
He stamped on the gas in disgust. Ayako’s gaze fell to the dashboard as her expression turned grave.
Indeed, this was not the first time Takaya had lost control of his «power».
The signs had started two, three months ago. Takaya had experienced it several times in fights with onryou, which was not to say he was unable to release his will. If anything, it was the opposite. For just a second, the «power» would slip out of Takaya’s control, to overflow and break free from his volition and go berserk.
It had happened recently in a battle with the Mikumo Clan of Oumi. Takaya had been fighting the onryou of Mikumo Sadamochi, vassal of the Rokkaku Clan, in a nenpa battle at the Yasu River-side when he had lost control over his will and nearly destroyed the entire riverbank. Chiaki and Ayako had managed to patch things up and prevent major damage.
Several other more minor but still chilling incidents had occurred. It felt as if a running car’s tires had unexpectedly lost their grip, causing the car to drift. Takaya’s «power» was slipping the control of his volition without any warning and running amok.
He had tried to conceal his condition by strenuously pretending nothing was wrong, but he couldn’t fool Chiaki. Once they had become aware of Takaya’s abnormal state, they had forced their stubborn leader to take a break and placed him under observation. Since there were no signs of immediate deterioration, Chiaki had performed hypnotherapy in order to stabilize his «power».
“Just what the hell is really going on? He’s not the kind of person to make the mistake of allowing his control over his will to slip. And it doesn’t seem to be because he’s tired, either.” Ayako had no idea how to fix whatever was causing Takaya’s disorder.
Chiaki replied in a low voice as he glared out the windscreen, “He’s living a contradiction.”
Ayako looked at Chiaki in surprise. “A contradiction...?”
“Yeah. ...in that ‘grotesque escape’.” Chiaki glared ahead, his countenance forbidding. “He drove himself crazy because he didn’t want to acknowledge Naoe’s death, so he deludes himself into thinking Kotarou is Naoe: which is all very well. But Kotarou is not Naoe. He can’t possibly keep up the pretense. ...Even Kagetora can’t continue deluding himself that Kotarou is Naoe when he’s so obviously not.”
“What do you mean?”
“He’s forcing himself.” Chiaki stepped on the brake in front of a red light and crushed his cigarette in the ashtray. “That delusion is now itself a burden. A heavy one.”
“Burden...?”
“Yeah. How do you think he’s maintaining this delusion that Kotarou is Naoe when their forms, shapes, voices, and scents are all different? He’s internally warping the information from his five senses into a more convenient form. But only when it comes to Kotarou. He set his psyche to do it. Right then.” Ayako looked at Chiaki with wide eyes. “He’ll maintain this contradiction at any cost. It’s become a burden.”
“So you’re saying Kagetora’s getting weaker because of that? And that’s why he can’t control his «power»?”
“Kotarou probably understood this from the start. I’m sure he’s trying to ease the burden of the auto-suggestion for Kagetora as much as he can.” Chiaki sighed.
“That’s why he’s imitating Naoe?”
“Yeah.”
“It really surprised me. His manner of speaking and how he projects his voice and his gestures and bearing and even his mannerisms... He is so like Naoe, it’s unnerving. I keep thinking Naoe’s really here.”
“The ‘Art of Mimicry’, I think it’s called. One of the ninjas’ skills. That’s the head of the Fuuma for you.”
It was true. Astonishingly, that day just after Takaya had started calling Kotarou ‘Naoe’, Kotarou had begun to act the part. From his tone of voice to his mannerisms, he performed the part of Naoe so well that it amazed both Chiaki and Ayako.
“He’s trying to diminish Kagetora’s burden. It’s pretty thoughtful of him, though regard like this is rather out-of-character. But otherwise Kagetora would be having an even harder time.”
“That’s true. But...how long can this deception last?”
“We are talking about Kagetora here.”
They had, after all, been together for four hundred years. Naoe had always been at his side, and Kagetora knew him viscerally—knew him almost as if he’d worn Naoe’s skin. He was more aware of Naoe than anyone, more keenly sensitive to the precise details that made Naoe unique; he scented it on an almost instinctive level.
Such a Kagetora was difficult to deceive.
Or should have been.
“If he hadn’t placed that suggestion on himself.”
“So he’s intentionally made himself dull?”
“He’s forcing himself to shut out the feelings of wrongness. It can’t be easy. Contradictions are inevitable.”
His own keen senses were back-firing. He, who knew Naoe better than anyone, could not help but become ever more deranged living in this camouflaged reality.
But it was precisely his feelings for Naoe that had caused Kagetora to create this mess in the first place...
“But that’s not the only reason for Kagetora’s weakened mental state.”
“What do you mean?”
“Half of it is a nervous breakdown,” Chiaki said bitterly, turning the steering wheel right. “We can change bodies, but we can’t change our personalities. Like when we perform kanshou, our forms and voices change, but our cores stay the same. Naoe wasn’t Naoe because of his shape and voice. Every word out of his mouth, every action he took—those things made him ‘Naoe’. ...And when we heard and perceived them, we recognized them as originating from ‘Naoe’. Right? It’s one thing for someone who knew him only superficially, but when you’ve known him for as long as we have, you can see past the skin to the deeper parts of his character. Because of that, we knew that ‘Naoe’ was ‘Naoe’.”
“Then Kagetora...” Ayako said in a muffled voice. Chiaki tapped the wheel with his index finger.
“He’s strangling himself. Kagetora is fucked up. To him, Naoe is doing and saying un-Naoe-like things, and he can’t figure out why. He ends up wondering if Naoe’s had a change of heart, if Naoe’s doing things to spite him, and becomes more and more suspicious.”
“...”
“It’s punishment for his denial of Naoe’s death.”
Takaya was wounded.
He had been dealt an injury he would not otherwise have suffered because he had deluded himself into believing that someone else was Naoe. The sham was hurting him.
Hurting him in proportion to the sincerity of his feelings towards Naoe, ironically.
Perhaps this was indemnification for his escape.
He was suffering the consequences of his own actions: there was no other way to put it. Perhaps to Kotarou it was only a nuisance.
Yet...
If he had admitted Naoe’s death, what would have happened to Takaya?
“This emotional breakdown is expediting the weakening of his control over his «power». As long as this continues, there’s no way for him to recover.”
Takaya, of course, didn’t know the cause of his disorder. Naturally, so long as he believed Kotarou was ‘Naoe’—so long as he forced himself to believe it—he could not be aware of it.
Because what he was doing had always been impossible. To delude himself into seeing someone who was not Naoe as Naoe—it simply couldn’t be done. Yet he was forcing himself to do it by sheer force of will and adjusting his narrative to smooth out the contradictions...which had only invited further aberration...which he’d tried to suppress by applying more brute force—in this way the thread had become ever more tangled. It was a quagmire. Takaya was only driving himself into a corner, and he didn’t even realize it. But even if he did realize it, he wouldn’t stop.
What had driven him to such extreme measures?
There was... but one answer.
“Because he can’t admit Naoe’s ‘death’,” Chiaki said bitterly. “To Kagetora, admitting that Kotarou isn’t Naoe is the same as admitting that Naoe’s dead.”
It meant accepting reality.
Which was, to Takaya, a surrender. He would have to admit that Naoe no longer existed.
And that, Takaya could not do.
Takaya was trying to escape precisely because he couldn’t accept it.
He was managing it by the skin of his teeth.
To escape from a world without Naoe.
“...I know...” Ayako faltered, “...Kagetora’s only managed to carry on this long by doing this. Otherwise he’d already have broken apart.”
“... Yeah.”
“But that’s so unfair to Naoe. Even though he’s dead, even though he’s no longer in this world, Kagetora still believes he’s alive. So what was Naoe, then? Is that all Naoe was to Kagetora, someone who can be replaced? I don’t want to accept that. But that’s what I think. Kagetora is dishonest and unfaithful! ...But!”
“...”
“I don’t know anymore. I don’t know what to think.” Ayako sounded like she was about to cry. “But what would become of Kagetora if he acknowledged Naoe’s death? He went completely insane at Hagi. If he hadn’t had Houjou Ujiyasu’s help, what would’ve happened to him? Just imagining it sends shivers down my spine. It’s because of his denial that he’s made it this far, and barely. If Kagetora truly acknowledges Naoe’s ‘death’, this time he’d die for sure. He’d go mad and die!”
It was probably because Kotarou knew this too that he’d started using the ‘Art of Mimicry’. He had actually seen with his own eyes Takaya’s insanity at Hagi. It was because he knew the dangers of Takaya’s mental weakness that he was going along with his delusion.
“...Are we just gonna let things go on like this? Overlook the fact that this Kotarou is ‘Naoe’ business is driving him more and more crazy? Is his loss of control over his «power» fine too?”
“I don’t know! I don’t know what to do anymore!”
Chiaki fell silent at Ayako’s raised voice. He looked down and took a little time to compose himself before sighing long and deep.
“...You gotta get a grip on yourself, Haruie.”
“...Me?”
“Yeah. It doesn’t matter to me either way, but you lot need Kagetora. His power and talent are necessary for the Uesugi to deal with the onshou, right? We can’t just let him go mad and die.”
"That’s true, but... But that’s...!
“That’s how it’s always gonna be us on the outside. In the end all of this is between Kagetora and Naoe. Only Naoe could’ve say anything about the state Kagetora is in.” Chiaki heaved another deep sigh and stepped on the gas again. “But he can’t force himself like that forever. His escape is going to collapse. The day’s gonna come when he’ll have no choice but to acknowledge Naoe’s ‘death’—when he has to accept reality.”
When his escape will collapse entirely.
When he would have to accept Naoe’s death.
When he would no longer be able to run.
Even if he went mad and died...
“Nagahide.”
Chiaki glanced at the forlorn Ayako sidelong and then dropped his left hand on her head.
“Hey, don’t give me that look of death. I’ll fix that head of Kagetora’s right up. My hypnotherapy is more reliable than any doctor. And if all else fails, I’ll brainwash him by brute force.”
“...You’re so pushy, geez.” Ayako lightly wiped her eyes. Chiaki collected himself.
“Anyway, right now we’ve got no choice but to try and stabilize his mood with every trick in the hypnotherapy book. Our first priority is to settle things for the near term. Let’s rest for now and head for the scene tomorrow,” Chiaki decided, and accelerated even harder down the empty road.
After leaving Takaya’s room, Kotarou returned to the parking lot to find someone standing in front of his car. It was a well-built youth wearing a rider’s suit. He immediately noticed Kotarou.
“Boss,” he called. The man waiting for Kotarou was Shichirou, one of the Fuuma ninjas.
“...Ah, it’s you. I must have kept you waiting.”
“I apologize for coming at this late hour. I’ve come to report that the matter had been dealt with.”
“Thank you for your trouble.” Kotarou nodded expressionlessly. “How is the vessel? Nagano’s vessel?”
“The vessel is dead.”
Kotarou’s eyes went wide.
“His carotid artery was severed. He bled to death.”
“... I see.” was all Kotarou said. Shichirou stared quizzically at Kotarou’s face. Noticing, Kotarou asked, “What is it?”
“Is something the matter, Boss?”
Shichirou’s hushed tone puzzled Kotarou.
“Why do you ask?”
“It’s just, You seem...”
Though an outsider would have seen only the usual stoic lack of expression on Kotarou’s face, his subordinate had detected the tiniest disturbance. True, unaccustomed ‘color’ had appeared on that cold robot’s metallic face, as if something was weighing on Kotarou.
Yet he didn’t seem aware of it. Kotarou made an even odder face. Examining it nervously, Shichirou repeated, “...Is something the matter?”
Kotarou’s expression returned to normal.
“No. What of it?”
Shichirou seemed yet more uneasy. He looked like he wanted to say something; Kotarou folded his arms and prompted, “You appear to want to say something to me.”
“No, it’s just...”
“Speak your mind. You needn’t hold back.”
“Boss...” Shichirou bowed. “Is this regarding Saburou-sama?”
Only Kotarou’s eyes moved to look at Shichirou.
“...Does your anxiety have to do with Saburou-sama?”
“To be concerned about one’s master is only natural.”
“No, that’s not what I mean.”
Kotarou finally sensed Shichirou’s meaning. He glared coldly, displeased by his subordinate’s suspicions. Shichirou shut his mouth abruptly.
“We serve Saburou-sama by Lord Ujiyasu’s command. All of Saburou-sama’s orders must be obeyed. It is only natural to ponder the quickest way to execute an order to perfection. ...If you have enough time to pry, you should endeavor to finish your investigation faster.”
“... I understand.” Shichirou did not touch the matter further. “My report is as follows.”
His voice returned to a business-like tone as he began his report.
Since that day, Kotarou had joined forces with Kagetora in accordance with Ujiyasu’s command.
Naoe’s death had changed the situation. Kagetora’s auto-suggestion made him believe Kotarou was ‘Naoe’—thus it had been necessary for Kotarou to become ‘Naoe’ in order to preserve his master’s psyche. In light of the situation Ujiyasu had commanded him anew to ‘devote yourself to Saburou Kagetora.’ That was the reason he and the Fuuma faction he led now ostensibly followed and worked for Uesugi.
But that did not mean they obeyed Kenshin. Though they were with Kagetora, in truth they still operated according to Ujiyasu’s intentions.
(Uesugi Kagekatsu—...)
Narita Yuzuru flickered across Kotarou’s mind.
The human whose true self was Maitreya. It was no exaggeration to say that that fearsome power held the key to the «Yami-Sengoku».
Ujiyasu intended to eliminate Narita Yuzuru before he could be used by Kenshin. For that reason he meant to return Kagetora to the Houjou—and perhaps then take the fight to Kenshin.
Therefore in a sense it was convenient that Kagetora believed Kotarou to be ‘Naoe’. It had allowed him to broach Kagetora’s inner circle without rousing either opposition or wariness, and to become one of the Uesugi. He had achieved his initial goal of getting close to Kagetora. Conditions were extremely favorable for him to now advance the work of Kagetora’s Houjou reset.
And to probe into Kenshin’s opening moves in his conquest of the «Yami-Sengoku».
But until now there had been no indication that Kenshin had contacted Kagetora.
(So Kenshin really does intends to keep everything an absolute secret from Saburou-dono...?)
That certainly appeared to be the case.
Some time ago Uesugi’s Ladies in White had made some suspicious moves, as if in obedience to someone other than Kagetora. Kagetora hadn’t noticed. Kenshin had apparently met with them to convey his direct orders somewhere away from detection, and had established a new chain of command.
(Kenshin intends to discard Saburou-dono.)
That was what Kotarou read from Fuuma’s detached unit covertly following his movements.
(He’s going to raise Kagekatsu up to the head of a new Uesugi army, I’m sure of it.)
This was being kept an absolute secret from Kagetora and the others.
Ujiyasu believed this to be Kenshin making preparations to join battle in the «Yami-Sengoku».
(You are going to be thrown away, Saburou-dono,) Kotarou addressed him silently.
Ujiyasu had not severed his connection with the Ikkou Sect. When Saburou Kagetora returned to the Houjou, he would need them to be on his side to stand against Oda and Kenshin.
Caution was necessary against Kenshin; thus they had made no large movements as of yet.
(You must return to the Houjou.)
“I trust Lord Kenshin! Lord Kenshin has no ambitions! Father is mistaken!”
The Kagetora who had issued that rejection had placed a servant of Ujiyasu at his side without knowing it.
“I will not return to the Houjou.”
(Someday you will be Houjou Saburou again...)
As he listened to his subordinate’s report, Kotarou quietly raised his eyes to glare into the heart of darkness.
Suddenly, Takaya’s voice echoed again in his ears—that voice that called him by the name of Takaya’s former right arm.
Kotarou turned his gaze to the hotel.
The light in Takaya’s room was still on.
He had not yet gone to sleep.
“There are words you have to speak right now, aren’t there, Naoe?!”
That look refused to disappear from his mind’s eye.
Nor that voice from his ears.
What was Kotarou thinking?
His eyes narrowed.