Chapter XXX

Atop the Flowing Fragrance Pavilion, Shino engages in bloody battle;

Beside the Bandō River, Kenpachi displays his courage

Thus it was that toward dawn the peasants from the region roundabout, the old men of the villages, all gathered and asked about the affair until all was clear; then some brought suit at the court of inquiry while others stayed and watched over Gakuzō until the sky was bright. Before long it was the hour of the snake¹ on the morning of the twentieth day of the sixth month.

At that time there arrived at the Estatesman’s mansion a large number of troops led by Hikami Kyūroku’s younger brother Hikami Shahei and Nurude Gobaiji’s colleague Isakawa Iohachi. Shahei and Iohachi allowed the peasants to lead them into the study and set up camp stools for them in the place of honor. Once they had finished inspecting the various corpses they summoned Gakuzō and each of the other house servants and examined them as to the particulars of what had happened.

Gakuzō said unto them: “On my master’s orders I went to Kurihei, in Shimōsa, the day before yesterday, and upon my return to the village late last night I saw what I could not bear to see, that my master and his wife had been cut down, and I immediately sought to repay vengeance upon their killers. Obstructed in this by rash young retainers of my enemies, and detained by their many comrades, I failed to kill Lord Nurude, for which cause my rancor is without limit.”

The men who had pursued Hamaji and Samojirō spoke, too, of the wedding of Kyūroku and Hamaji, of the ceremony the night before to welcome the groom, and of how “because Hamaji absconded yesterevening, we all ran every which way to chase her down, but in the end could not do it, and returned, at which time we came upon Gakuzō running out of the heavy-linteled gate trailing a bloody sword. In great astonishment we stopped him. We did nothing else. We know nothing at all about the killing of Hikiroku and his wife, nor about Gakuzō attacking the Lieutenant.”

Then Shahei raised his voice. “In which case Gakuzō’s statement is exceedingly fishy, from beginning to end. But I have already obtained the facts. He secretly helped Inuzuka Shino—who I am told is Kamezasa’s nephew, or the like—to spirit away the master’s daughter, after which he snuck back to steal money, clothing, and the like from his master, in the doing of which he was caught by the master and his wife and subjected to accusations that left him no other course but to cut Hikiroku and Kamezasa down, after which he fled. At this time my elder brother Kyūroku was, together with his subordinate Gobaiji, on his way back from an excursion to the beach at Shinagawa, and he stopped by Hikiroku’s residence to beg of him some hot water, at which time he was taken unaware, struck down, and killed, along with many of his young retainers; Gobaiji alone escaped.

“Gobaiji brought suit to this effect, and that is sufficient for me to accept it as truth. And why, you ask? The first dubious circumstance is that Inuzuka Shino, so long listed on the rolls of this village, is absent. As for this business of my elder brother Kyūroku taking Hamaji to wife, it is utter nonsense. Why? Lieutenant is an office of high severity, while village head is a lowly position: such a marriage would be unworthy of my brother, and what is more, who would have scheduled such a groom-welcoming without first begging the license of the lord of the castle?

“But even this is not all. Last night in the hills at Marutsuka someone killed Aboshi Samojirō and three others, leaving behind a suspicious sign. This, too, must have been the work of Shino or Gakuzō, a cunning scheme to make us think that Hamaji was slain by Samojirō.

“Now, for a man of such lowly rank to kill a lieutenant is treason, according to the statutes. How can revenge enter into the question? It would be easy enough for me to hack him into eighths right now to avenge my brother, but I cannot pursue private vengeance without license from my lord and master. This is why I have brought Mister Isakawa with me, to take Kyūroku’s body into custody and arrest his killer. Put this Gakuzō in fetters now!” he ordered in the full ferocity of his wrath.

The gathered troops advanced with hardly a “Yes, sir,” but Gakuzō kept them at bay without batting an eye, saying, “I remember it differently, no matter what Your Lordships say. At dawn on the day before last Inuzuka Shino departed for Koga. Everybody knows this. Your Honor may call a heron a crow in order to conceal your shame, but the women know well of the violent deaths of Hikiroku and his wife. There is no distinction between noble and common when it comes to loyalty and righteousness. I avenged my master’s death; You would call this treason, and bind me. This is hard to accept. With so many witnesses, you yet proceed on the basis of conjecture. This does not impress me. Is this how you conduct public business?”

The troops, when faced with his great boldness in attacking his accusers with reasoned argument, could not lay a hand on him, but quailed, even as they continued to stand guard over him.

In response to this Iohachi lined up all the women and inquired of them as to the events of the night before, but none could give a coherent answer for dread of the look on Shahei’s face. Upon repeated interrogation one or two of them answered that “we were so frightened by the sound of clashing blades that we ran out by the rear gate, sirs, and so we know nothing at all.”

Shahei scoffed when he heard this, saying, “Then there is no one who saw Hikiroku killed! How can he call these women witnesses? This one will only speak truth under the lash—tie him up.”

But even as he fumed, a groan was heard—someone was beneath the floorboards—everyone was shocked and disconcerted. Three or four men climbed down and at length dragged the man out. It was none other than Hikiroku’s old servant Sesuke. The previous night, after having his temple sliced open by Gobaiji, he had tumbled to a place beneath the floorboards, where he had finally passed out, only now returning to life with a faint cry. All of the other menservants were astonished by this and said, “When you failed to return last night, milord, we searched everywhere for you, wondering if you had not been enchanted by a wild fox. How did you come by this injury? Tell us what happened, you old dullard.”

Solicitous were their words, even as they hoisted him up onto the porch. Iohachi approached near to him, the better to give close attention to what he had to say. Sesuke spoke: “Last night I came back before my comrades, and, not knowing that Hikiroku and his wife were being killed at that moment, I stepped onto the porch and opened the sliding doors to the study. When I did so Gobaiji slashed open my temple, and I tumbled backward and fell. I hid beneath the floorboards, and so I know all about how Gakuzō avenged them. But then my cut began to pain me, and I remember nothing after that. But one thing is certain. The master and his wife were killed by Lord Hikami and Lord Nurude. There can be no doubt of that.”

This witness should have made it difficult for Shahei to persist in his slanderous accusations, but not so. He turned to Iohachi and said, “Do you not find it peculiar that Sesuke, an innocent bystander, should catch a blow while observing a struggle that nobody else knows anything about? Truth can only be established through the testimony of many; one man’s word is hardly proof. It seems to me that this Sesuke must be in league with Gakuzō. Think you not so?”

Iohachi raised no objection. “Indeed that may be the case. Let us then imprison Gakuzō and the other, report the affair to Kamakura, and let the matter be decided by orders from His Lordship the Assistant [meaning the ministry of guards assistant ōishi. at this time he was in kamakura]. Then let us go and confer with our senior colleagues that your brother’s shame may be purified and your ire given outlet. Surely you cannot judge such a course worthless. If we, conversely, debate rights and wrongs here and now, it will not be good for our reputations. Let us withdraw amicably, I pray you.” In this way did he whisper flattery and conciliations into Shahei’s ears.

Thus it was that Shahei caused his brother Kyūroku’s corpse to be placed onto the palanquin that had been prepared for the purpose, to be sent along with the bodies of his young retainers back to his residence. He caused Gakuzō’s wrists to be shackled and Sesuke to be loaded onto a litter, the latter carried by peasants, and then together with Isakawa Iohachi he departed for the castle and its court of inquiry; Gakuzō was dragged along behind, with troops before and after him, the whole making one long train.

We now divide our story. While all this was happening, Inuzuka Shino Moritaka, before dawn on the nineteenth, bade a fond farewell to Gakuzō at the Kurihashi post-station and set out for Koga, only a few miles away. Once there, he procured lodgings in the town in the shadow of the castle, then inquired as to how he might gain an introduction to the Incumbent.

He went to the mansion of the Chancellor, Yokohori Fuhito Arimura, presented his name on a card, and then spoke of what brought him there: of how, in accordance with the last instructions of his late father Inuzuka Bansaku, he had brought the precious blade Rainmaker, which his family received in trust long ago from Lord Shun’ō, the elder brother of the Incumbent, that he might present it now. All this he gave in petition to the junior retainer who met him, to pass on to his master.

After Shino had waited rather a long time, Arimura came out and received him, questioning him to ascertain the lineage of his fathers and their military service. He then asked, pointedly, “When His Lordship of the Palace [meaning nariuji] was in Kamakura he summoned to himself the descendants of all those former retainers of the Minister of the Court Mochiuji who died in battle at Yūki, and yet Bansaku presented neither himself nor this precious blade. Why?”

Then Shino spoke of his father Bansaku’s injury and how it had left him a cripple, touching frankly upon his aunt and her husband Ōtsuka Hikiroku in order to dispel any suspicions regarding Bansaku’s tardiness, yet not venturing to reveal their wickedness; rather he discoursed concisely upon a single theme, well developed, that of his late father’s righteous spirit: this he spoke of in detail, concealing nothing.

Arimura was amazed at the scrupulous rigor displayed before him, and though in his heart he recoiled from it he could find no way to quit himself of it, and so, after some consideration, he said, “With such a lineage, if there proves to be no mistake regarding the sword you present then I, in consultation with the senior retainers, will bring this to the attention of His Lordship of the Palace someday soon. Retire to your inn and wait, I pray you.”

A much-relieved Shino voiced his acquiescence and repaired to his hostelry, by which time the sun had set.

Came the next morning, and it suddenly occurred to Shino that “Rainmaker being a valuable sword, my late sire always kept it shut away in a large bamboo tube slung from a roofbeam, and yet there was never a spot of rust on it. All these many years since His Eminence’s passing, I have worn it at my waist, and stood it by my pillow at night, my sole concern being to preserve it from theft; I never once tried to draw it from its sheath. I shall be presenting an appearance of unpreparedness if I now present it to the Koga Lord without wiping the dust from the blade. It will be a good diversion for an idle traveler.”

And so, as no one was near, he pulled shut the sliding door, sat himself next to the post that bordered the alcove, and, taking the sword in his left hand, proceeded first to clean the dust from the cords wrapped around the hilt, next to gently wipe down the scabbard, and then finally to draw the blade. He looked at it—it was not Rainmaker.

“How can this be?”

Astonished, he readjusted his grip and examined the blade. Its length was the same, but its temper was of the worst, bearing no resemblance to Rainmaker. At this unexpected turn of events, Shino’s heart leapt like a horse that could not be tamed. He struggled to imagine what could have happened.

“Never for a moment has this sword left my side—not a day but I have worn it at my waist. How could it have been switched for another? The only time that comes to mind is that day on the boat at the River Kaniwa. It must be that when the Estatesman fell into the river, entangled in his own net, it was not solely in order to harm me—he must have arranged things with Samojirō so that when I followed the Estatesman into the water to save him, Samojirō was left alone in the boat. He must have switched the blades then. I always thought of Samojirō as a person who spent all his time with song and entertainment, and had no interest in weapons; I was careless. It all happened at night, and I allowed my attention to dwell on saving the Estatesman from his plunge, and so I neither drew the blade to look at it nor suspected it might have been taken. From that time to yesterday I was so occupied with my own advancement that I have let things come to this pass. I drove back tigers from the front gate, never realizing that wolves had gotten in by the rear²—what a fool I have been! Now that I have lost the sword, I am an unfilial son to my father, a disloyal retainer to my lord. What is to be done?”

Wrath flashed in his eyes as he flung the blade heavily from him, but nothing could remove the gut-wrenching rancor and regret he felt. However, he could not remain thus, and so he replaced the blade in its scabbard and, with many sighs, thought, “Nothing can be done about the days on which I knew not that the sword was a fake. Now that I know, if I wait for the Koga Lord’s summons, I shall be lying to a nobleman. I must plead my case quickly.” He took out a comb and ran it through his hair; then before he had even tied his trousers properly he fastened his two swords to his waist and made to depart.

Even as he did so, an envoy arrived from Yokohori Arimura in the castle. Uneasy, Shino received the party, to find that it consisted of two young retainers. They beckoned to a servant who carried a willow basket, and from it they took a suit of robes and presented it to Shino, saying, “The matter of the precious sword you have brought for presentation having been reviewed by the senior retainers today, you are to come at once to the castle for an audience with His Lordship of the Palace. You are to be given a suit of clothing appropriate for the occasion. We have been sent, on Lord Yokohori’s instructions, to collect you. Come quickly, please.”

Shino acknowledged the summons, saying, “I understand, sirs. I was leaving the inn to visit Lord Yokohori, for I have that which I would say to him. For reasons of my own, I beg you to do me the honor of keeping this gift of clothing in your care yet a little while. Shall we, then?” With that, he ran out, leaving the young retainers and their servant to follow behind, puzzled and gasping for breath.

As they did so, Inuzuka Shino made for Arimura’s mansion, where he begged an audience with its master, only to find that he was not at home, having already reported to the castle. Shino had no alternative but to let the young retainers lead him to the castle, during which time he decided that “now it would be rude not to change my attire,” and so outside the chamber he donned the formal wear; from there he was guided, by an intermediary of some name or other, to an outer guard-house. The affair was rapidly becoming serious, and he had no inkling of Arimura’s whereabouts. His heart sank at his powerlessness to petition that he had lost the precious sword.

Eventually the intermediary guided him to the Waterfall-Viewing Chamber, the upper portion of which contained, behind a hanging screen, a seat cushion for the Minister of the Court Nariuji; below him Yokohori Fuhito Arimura and other senior retainers sat in attendance, and to the right and left of them other close retainers were seated in rows. In addition, several dozen cuirassed warriors sat nearby in the hallway, keeping themselves strictly in rank and guarding closely against irregularity. A magnificent sight it was.

Nariuji had already condescended to take his seat; the screen had not yet been raised. Now Yokohori Arimura addressed Shino from far across the room, saying, “His Lordship deigns to note that Inuzuka Shino, grandson of His Lordship’s house’s old retainer Ōtsuka Shōsaku Mitsumori, who died in battle at Yūki Castle, now offers up, in accordance with the dying words of his late father Bansaku, the sword Rainmaker, an heirloom of this house. First my colleagues and I shall examine it. Pray, bring the longsword here.”

“’Tis sink or swim now,” thought Shino. Unperturbed, he raised his head and spoke.

“My lord. Someone has spent many years watching for a chance to steal that treasure-sword. Thus it was that this morning, when I drew the blade to wipe it down, I looked and beheld that—alas!—it was not the original blade I held, but one that had been substituted for it, unbeknownst to me. I had not expected this—shock and regret gnawed at my innards—but ’twas useless. And so I immediately thought to bring this to Your Lordship’s attention, but as I was about to report to you, Your Lordship sent for me. This discrepancy fills me with unbearable shame. Sadly I must beg a few days’ indulgence, that I may search out the lost sword: I shall not fail to recover it. This I humbly beg of Your Lordship.”

Before he had finished Arimura burst into rage, crying, “The effrontery! You have no proof it was stolen. What is the meaning of this?”

Shino evinced no cowardice in the face of Arimura’s angry, accusatory expression, but replied, “Your Lordship’s doubts are reasonable. Send for the sword I brought and left in the outer guardhouse—examine it. The blade itself is not Rainmaker, although the mountings—the hilt guard, the pegs, the pommel and guard fittings—are all just as they were long ago. This is the proof that the blade was switched.”

Arimura would not listen, but laughed him to scorn. “Forty years have gone by since the Kakitsu era. Who short of an old man of sixty or seventy could recognize Rainmaker now? The only proof of that blade is the moisture it emits. I think this man is an enemy spy—I have no doubt of it. Seize him!” As he raged, the strong men lined up in the hallway began to get to their feet and mass together.

It occurred to Shino that Yokohori Arimura was a man to toy recklessly with his authority, to administer rewards and punishments just as he pleased, someone with no capacity to measure a man’s true worth. “If I truckle now and allow myself to be taken captive, I shall surely die at his hand. If only I can escape,” he thought, and so, as mighty warriors vied with one another to close with him, he held them at bay with his right hand, tossed them aside with his left, and kicked over those who stood behind him—working his body like a bird in flight, he prevented any of them from approaching him.

Within his screens, the Minister of the Court Nariuji, a general of a naturally short and violent temper, stood up, kicking aside his cushions, and ordered his men to “Cut that man down!”

“Yes, sir,” said his many close retainers, each man of them drawing and brandishing his blade. But as they advanced on him in airtight ranks, Shino ducked beneath the bare steel, kicking a floor mat so that it rose, then taking it up as a makeshift shield. With this he warded off blows until, judging his moment, he flew on his assailants, stealing from the foremost his blade and cutting him down with it, then laying about him in every direction with the stolen sword: a dozen men or more he wounded, eight or nine did he fell. He danced into the courtyard, climbed a pine that stood by the eaves, and from it leapt like a flash onto the roof. Spears were thrust up at him, and he cut off their tips where they were lashed to the shafts; men climbed right up after him, and he sent them tumbling down in an avalanche of injury. For a short while, struggle was fruitless, as Shino alone cut down all comers, letting their blood seep into Zhuolu Plain while their corpses mounted up at Zhaoge.³

Shino, too, was wounded, but he merely sucked up his own blood to slake his thirst: he climbed from rooftop to rooftop, seeking escape, until finally he spied a three-story structure that seemed to be the fortress’s watchtower. It was indeed built to command long views, this tower, and it was named the Pavilion of Flowing Fragrance. Shino, with great effort, shimmied up its side, hoping to glimpse from its heights an escape route. He saw that the castle’s outer moat was a wide and vasty river whose course took it directly beneath the pavilion, where at the water’s edge was moored a swift-looking boat. This was what is vulgarly called the Firstborn of the East, the mightiest river in the Eight Provinces, a great gullet whose mouth met the sea downstream at the inlet of Gyōtoko in Katsushika.⁴

He looked behind him again: from every courtyard and castle gate poured hundreds of soldiers, all bracing their bows to drop him from his perch. He could neither advance nor retreat; nothing remained for him but to think, “If there be a worthy enemy, let him climb to me. I would die in battle with him.”

Meanwhile, the former Overseer Nariuji, having already sent many soldiers to shoot arrows at him, grew angrier and angrier, and gathering to him his mighty men let it be known to all that “to him who captures Shino I shall give an increase of a thousand strings of cash.” But none there were to accept, as all had seen Shino’s artistry at arms and were afraid.

Then the Chancellor Arimura spoke to Nariuji, saying, “The jailkeeper, Inukai Kenpachi Nobumichi, has been himself imprisoned for a month or more now, for the crime of having not only resigned his distinguished position but then demanding he be given leave. He is by acknowledgement the highest-ranking disciple of the late martial-arts master Nikaimatsu Yamashironosuke, and among his many accomplishments he has no equal in this fief in the capturing of an opponent in hand-to-hand combat. Pray, sir, relax his punishment for a time and let him capture Shino. Should Kenpachi perform meritoriously, then his death sentence might be commuted; if he is struck down by Shino, then you have nothing to regret. What thinks Your Lordship of this counsel?”

He delivered this advice with every appearance of earnestness, and Nariuji nodded, saying, “An exceedingly fine suggestion. Hurry up, then.”

And so Arimura lost no time in having this Inukai Kenpachi dragged forth from the jail and his fetters loosed. He told the man of his lord’s command and gave him longsword, cuirass, vambraces, and greaves, and to this added a truncheon. Kenpachi gave no sign of refusing, but rather humbly accepted his charge; he unceremoniously armed and armored himself, stamped his feet a few times to rid his legs of their stiffness, bade Arimura farewell, and then raced up a twenty-foot ladder like an ape up a tree.

He looked up past the outer eaves at Shino, standing on the boxy roof-ridge of the Pavilion of Flowing Fragrance, bloody sword at his side; Kenpachi did not flinch a smidgen, but advanced, striding ’cross the roof tiles of the tow’r that soared above the clouds, and while he did, Nariuji led Arimura and many his other senior vassals and close retainers into a courtyard, where they set up camp stools and gazed up, and neither master nor man was unconscious of danger.

What finally happened in this contest between Inuzuka and Inukai, two heroes? To answer this shall require a new Book in a new Volume, the IVth, in the beginning of which all shall be revealed. See the illustration and savor the resonances.

End of Book V of Volume III of the Lives of the Eight Dogs of the Satomi

1. Late morning, the hour before noon.

2. A saying traced to Yuan-dynasty scholar Zhao Xuehang’s work Pingshi (J. Hyōshi).

3. References to two battles that signaled dynastic changes in China. The first points to tribal leader Chi You’s ultimately losing battle against the Yellow Emperor at Zhuolu (undatable); victory there allowed the Yellow Emperor to establish the Xia state. The second points to the battle of the Muye Plain (circa 1046 BCE), near the Shang capital of Zhaoge; forces led by King Wu of Zhou defeated the Shang armies, leading to the establishment of the Zhou Dynasty.

4. The Tone River. The epithet used here is Bandō Tarō, which gives rise to the alternate name for the river used in the epigraph to this chapter.