"Damn you!" With a thunderous yell, someone leaped into the bamboo thicket. A sound like a rain of leaves, or perhaps a pack of monkeys, split the silence of the night.
"Shigetomo… Shigetomo…" Mitsuhide whispered.
"I'm here, my lord."
"Ah… Shigetomo," Mitsuhide said again. He then groped around as though searching for the arms that were supporting him.
Blood was spurting from the side of his chest, his vision was fading, and he was finding it difficult to speak.
"I'm going to bind your wound and give you some medicine, so be patient for just a little while."
Mitsuhide shook his head to show that binding the wound would be unnecessary. Then his hands moved as though they were searching for something.
"What is it, my lord?"
"A brush…"
Shigetomo hurriedly took out paper and ink and a brush. Mitsuhide took the brush with shaking fingers and looked at the white paper. Shigetomo knew that he would be writing his death poem and began to feel a choking sensation in his chest. He could hardly stand to see Mitsuhide writing such a thing now and in this place, and in his attachment to what he felt was his lord's greater destiny, he said, "Don't take up your brush now, my lord. Otsu is hardly a breath away, and if we can just find our way there, you'll welcomed by Lord Mitsuharu. Let me bandage up this wound."
As Shigetomo put the paper on the ground and began to untie his own sash, Mitsuhide suddenly waved his hand with surprising strength. Then, with his left hand, he lifted himself off the ground. Stretching out his right hand, he grasped the brush with almost crushing strength and started to write:
There are not two gates: loyalty and treason.
But his hand shook so much that he seemed to be unable to write the next line. Mitsuhide passed the brush to Shigetomo. "You write the rest."
Leaning on Shigetomo's lap, Mitsuhide turned his head toward the sky and gazed at the moon for a little while. When the color of death even paler than the moon had filled his face, he spoke with a voice surprisingly free of confusion and finished the verse.
The Great Way penetrates the font of the heart.
Waking from the dream of fifty-five years,
I return to the One.
Shigetomo put down the brush and began to weep. Just at that moment, Mitsuhide drew his short sword and cut his own throat. Sakuzaemon and Tatewaki ran back in shock and saw what had happened. Approaching the dead body of their lord, each man fell on his own blade. Another four men, then six, then eight surrounded Mitsuhide’s body in the same way and followed him in death. In no time at all, their lifeless bodies formed the petals and heart of a flower of blood on the ground.
Yojiro had dashed into the bamboo thicket to fight with the bandits. Murakoshi called out into the darkness, worried that he might already have been cut down.
"Yojiro, come back! Yojiro! Yojiro!"
But regardless of the number of times he called, Yojiro did not come back again. Murakoshi had also received a number of wounds. When he was somehow able to crawl out through the bamboo stand, he saw the silhouette of a man passing right by him.
"Ah! Lord Shigetomo."
"Sanjuro?"
"How is His Lordship?"
"He has breathed his last."
"No!" Sanjuro was surprised. "Where?"
"He is right here, Sanjuro." Shigetomo indicated Mitsuhide's head, which he had wrapped in a cloth and attached to his saddle. He looked away sadly.
Sanjuro leaped with a violent force toward the horse. As he seized Mitsuhide's head he raised a long, wailing cry. At length he asked, "What were his last words?"
"He recited a verse that began 'There are not two gates: loyalty and treason.'"
"He said that?"
"Even though he attacked Nobunaga, his action could not be questioned as a matter of loyalty or treason. Both he and Nobunaga were samurai, and they served the same Emperor. When he finally woke from fifty-five years of a dream, he found that even he was not someone who could escape from the world's blame and praise. After saying these words, he killed himself."
"I understand." Murakoshi was sobbing convulsively, wiping the tears from his face with his fist. "He neither listened to Lord Toshimitsu's admonishments nor refused to fight a decisive battle at Yamazaki on disadvantageous ground with a small army, because he depended on that Great Way. In that light, retreating from Yamazaki would have amounted to abandoning Kyoto. When I realize what was in his heart, I can't stop crying."
"No, even though he was defeated, he never abandoned the Way, and doubtless died with that long-cherished ambition. He showed his last verse to heaven. But you know, if we waste time here, those brigands will probably come back and attack again."
"Right."
"I was unable to take care of everything here by myself. I have left our lord's corpse without the head. Would you bury it so no one will find it?"
"What about the others?"
"They all gathered around his body and died bravely."
"After I've carried out your orders, I'll find some place to die too."
"I'm taking his head to give to Lord Mitsutada at the Chionin Temple. I'll think about disposing of myself after that. Well, good-bye then."
"Good-bye."
The two men went separate ways on the narrow path through the bamboo grove. The speckles of light scattered by the moon were lovely to behold.
* * *
Shoryuji Castle fell that night. It happened just as Mitsuhide was dying in Ogurusu. The generals Nakagawa Sebei, Takayama Ukon, Ikeda Shonyu, and Hori Kyutaro all moved their command posts there. Lighting a huge bonfire, they lined their camp stools outside the castle gate and waited for Nobutaka and Hideyoshi to arrive. Nobutaka soon stood before them.
To have taken the castle was a resplendent victory. Both soldiers and officers straightened their banners and looked up at Nobutaka with great reverence. As Nobutaka dismounted and passed through the ranks of the army, he nodded to the men with a friendly expression. He was almost overly polite to the generals, greeting them respectfully and showing his gratitude.
Taking Sebei's hand, he said with special affection, "It is due to your loyalty and courage that the Akechi were crushed in a single day's battle. My father's soul has been appeased, and I will not forget this."
He gave the same praise to Takayama Ukon and Ikeda Shonyu. Arriving a little later, however, Hideyoshi said nothing at all to those men. As he rode by them in his palanquin, he even appeared to be looking down on them.
Sebei was a man of unequaled ferocity, even in the midst of rough warriors, and it is likely that he felt offended by Hideyoshi's behavior. He cleared his throat loud enough to be heard. Hideyoshi glanced out from inside the palanquin and passed on with a parting remark.
"Good work, Sebei."
Sebei stamped his feet in anger. "Even Lord Nobutaka was civil enough to dismount for us, but this man is so arrogant that he goes right by in his palanquin. Maybe Monkey thinks he's already running the country," he said, loudly enough so that everyone around him could hear, but beyond that he could do nothing.