Chapter 1660: Loyalty and Treachery

Just as Tachibana Muneshige had foreseen, the moment the two armies' spear formations clashed, his ashigaru spearmen gained the upper hand because of their superior formation, and the enemy had already been thrown into disarray by the earlier volleys of gunfire. The front ranks drove their long spears hard through the gaps between the opposing shafts, reaping lives amid a chorus of screams.

As the formation pressed relentlessly forward, the dense thicket of spears surged on without pause. These ashigaru spearmen pierced through the enemy's forward line, then drove deep into their formation, like bolts of lightning splitting the pitch-black night sky.

Because of the earlier attack by the arquebusiers, the morale of Mizuno Katsunari's soldiers had long since wavered. When the enemy ashigaru spearmen launched their general assault, the immense pressure bearing down on them only deepened the fear of men who had barely ever seen battle. Amid the shrieks of slaughter, what courage they had slowly drained away; some were already retreating steadily backward.

Seeing the front line begin to crumble the instant battle was joined, Mizuno Katsunari's face twisted with rage and he cursed furiously. Yet he was not surprised, for he had known beforehand that these hastily assembled domain troops of his could never possibly withstand an enemy that so vastly outmatched them in troop strength, equipment, and even the quality of its soldiers.

And he had long since steeled himself for this.

Mounted on his horse, he drew his sword and raised it high, pointing it forward. "Charge!"

Then he dismounted directly and, taking the lead himself, charged straight at the enemy, utterly disregarding the forest of spears steadily advancing toward him.

During the Warring States period, due to the demands of training and circumstance, true cavalry in the formal sense was exceedingly rare among the various Japanese warlord armies. Most men were essentially infantry who rode horses — they used horses for mobility in normal times and dismounted to fight on foot when battle came. Mizuno Katsunari had fought this way back then, and doing it once more now was naturally second nature to him.

A seventy-year-old man, sword in hand, charged madly at the enemy. His speed was great; he did not look like an old man at all. Where he found the strength, no one could say — perhaps he was simply burning his own life away.

At his command, the house retainers beside him also raised their weapons and, howling, charged forward with their lord. These retainers had followed him for many years, utterly loyal. In a moment like this, they were unwilling to leave him, wanting to die together with their lord.

In this present age, a retainer must be absolutely subordinate to his lord and could never disobey his lord's orders. Some were even required to give their lives and follow their lord in death; in every domain, when a lord passed away, there were those who committed junshi. So at this moment, they believed they were merely doing their duty.

Because the swords they carried at their waists were too short and unsuited for use in formation battles, they held long naginata in their hands. These naginata, having been stored away for many years, showed some rust, but they still carried an imposing air.

As the soldiers ahead of them crumbled in ceaseless retreat, this group did not bother to rally the fleeing men. Instead, they forced their way forward against the tide. This was no strategy or tactic; it was simply the venting of final rage and a display of loyalty.

This small band quickly reached the front of the two armies' formations, then made a slight detour to the flank of a smaller unit. Exploiting the enemy's difficulty in turning, they forced their way in and collided head-on with the opposing spear formation.

Because the battle had been going so smoothly, the ashigaru spearmen had grown contemptuous of the enemy. When this group charged at them, they were mentally unprepared. Moreover, because they had advanced too quickly, their flanks had not yet been covered. Spears a full one and a half jō long — how easy could it be to turn them against men fighting individually like this?

After striking the flank of these ashigaru spearmen's formation, they immediately thrust their own weapons through the gaps between the spears, then hacked down heavily. Once they had struck the enemy before them, they forced their own way forward and squeezed inside.

Precisely because every man among them was utterly reckless, caring nothing for his own life and seeking only to trade it for the enemy's, they instead brought chaos to these ashigaru spearmen. In the span of only a few breaths, over a dozen men fell, and quite a few ashigaru simply threw away their long spears and turned to flee toward their own lines.

And as the enemy formation began to descend into chaos and rout, the fighting spirit of Mizuno Katsunari and his men blazed even higher. Roaring, their eyes bloodshot, they charged at the fleeing enemy — a few dozen men chasing and slaughtering over a hundred, claiming many more lives in an instant.

Yet their courageous, desperate counterattack was no more than a tiny ripple against the vast, surging tide. Even as they charged and killed, the domain troops everywhere else along the line had already been completely routed. Most had turned and fled; only a small handful still held out in resistance, but it was utterly meaningless now.

These routed domain soldiers fled with their heads down, their courage shattered by the terror of the battlefield. They did not know that their line of retreat had already been cut off by the flanking force Tachibana Muneshige had dispatched earlier to encircle their rear. They were fated never to return home, their bones destined to be buried in these very fields.

But Mizuno Katsunari and his men paid no heed to any of this and continued their pursuit and slaughter. They were already deep within the enemy's layered encirclement, though no one cared about that now.

The weather in the sixth and seventh months is indeed fickle. Just then, the originally clear sky abruptly turned overcast. Dark clouds blotted out the heavens, and fine raindrops began to patter onto the ground and onto men's armor with a steady rustle.

In the rain, Mizuno Katsunari, eyes bloodshot and head lowered, charged forward in a frenzy, swinging his sword wildly. Only when the rain soaked through his body and quenched the fire in his heart did an overwhelming exhaustion finally make it impossible for him to go on. Panting heavily, he stood in place and suddenly looked back, only to find that only a few men remained at his side.

These men were nearly as bedraggled as he was, their clothes disheveled, and almost every one of them bore wounds. Where no wounds were visible, they were drenched in the blood of others.

The rain kept falling. It slowly washed each man's face clean and gradually gathered into streams, mingling the blood from all around into a glaring, eye-catching patch of crimson across the open field.

These crimson patches, in a daze, brought back memories of the past. Decades ago, in that endlessly chaotic Warring States era, he had been a hot-blooded young man. Who knew how many great battles he had taken part in, how many scenes far more gruesome than this he had witnessed?

He had killed men and seen men killed. Through slaughter after slaughter, he had grown indifferent to life and death, understanding that a human life was no more than duckweed on the wind, liable to scatter into the air at any moment. Had not even a hero like Lord Nobunaga been suddenly struck down and taken from this world?

In those days, relying on valor and blood, he had earned military merit and finally became the lord of a domain, one of the few upper-ranking figures in the realm. He had originally thought that with the peace brought by three generations of shoguns, with the divine protection of the Godly Lord's spirit in heaven, the realm could at last enjoy stability, and his descendants could peacefully enjoy everything he had won with his life.

He had originally thought that he could walk the final stretch of his life in peace and stability, departing this world amid the weeping of his family and descendants, and become the founding domain lord revered by them for generations to come.

But when the great army of Han struck, he discovered that even his last sliver of hope was lost. The domain and family estate he had toiled so bitterly to gain, the stability the realm had finally achieved with such difficulty — all of it had been utterly devoured by this storm. Whether his descendants could survive such a storm, he himself did not know.

At this thought, hatred surged uncontrollably into his heart once more. His entire body trembled, and he gripped his sword, ready to charge forward. But just then, the aching soreness throughout his body brought his steps to an abrupt halt. He was old, after all, and could never return to the man he once was.

And before his eyes, layers of dark shadows pressed in upon them. He watched these figures hazily; though the rain made it hard to see clearly, he knew that these men were all his enemies, come to put him to death.

He did not flee, nor was he afraid. He simply watched quietly as this mass of enemy soldiers surged toward him and then completely surrounded him and his few men.

If they used bows or guns, he and his men would certainly not survive. But strangely, these enemy soldiers did not do so; they merely encircled them. Then, gaps opened in the dense formation, and the figures of several men on horseback appeared within Mizuno Katsunari's line of sight.

These horses slowly advanced and finally stopped when they were only a little over one jō away. The man at their head was none other than Tachibana Muneshige himself.

The rain was still falling. Mounted on his horse, Tachibana Muneshige looked down at Mizuno Katsunari, who was utterly exhausted and could only stand before him leaning on his sword. He looked at Mizuno Katsunari's now graying beard and hair, at his haggard appearance, as if seeing his own reflection in a mirror.

He, too, had grown old. Tachibana Muneshige sighed inwardly.

In his youth, Mizuno Katsunari had been irascible and hot-blooded. Because he had arbitrarily killed a subordinate who reported his misdeeds to his father, Mizuno Tadashige, he was forced to flee the domains of his father and the Tokugawa house. After much wandering, he arrived in Kyoto and then joined Oda Nobunaga's army, where his valor gradually brought him prominence within the Oda forces.

After Toyotomi Hideyoshi replaced Oda Nobunaga, he continued to serve Toyotomi Hideyoshi and was eventually dispatched to fight in Kyushu. It was during these campaigns that he became well known to and appreciated by Tachibana Muneshige. At the time, Tachibana Muneshige had wanted to recruit him as a subordinate, but he had not agreed and once again left Kyushu.

In the end, after many twists and turns, he returned to serve under Tokugawa Ieyasu and reconciled with his father, whom he had not seen for fifteen years. After his father's death, he succeeded to the headship of the Mizuno family. Tokugawa Ieyasu, bearing no grudge for past offenses, granted him the Fukuyama Domain with a stipend of one hundred thousand koku, making him a high-ranking fudai daimyo.

At that time, neither of them could have imagined that they would meet again in this manner, under such circumstances.

The rises and falls of fate — how many can truly fathom them? We are all merely duckweed drifting with the current.

"Mizuno, surrender." As if making one final effort, Tachibana Muneshige, looking down from above, suddenly spoke. "Further resistance is meaningless. You have already done enough to show your loyalty to the Tokugawa house."

Mizuno Katsunari did not answer. He merely gave a faint, cold laugh — a smile made all the more grotesque by the rain plastering his hair to his face.

"You need not serve Han. After surrendering, you will simply be placed under confinement. I can spare your life, so long as you remain here quietly from now on." Tachibana Muneshige sighed softly, as if he already knew what the answer would be. "Mizuno, do not be so stubborn."

"Ha... haha..." Mizuno Katsunari suddenly burst into loud laughter. "Spare? You... are you even worthy of using that word? You are nothing but a pawn, a running dog in the hands of the Han invaders. What right do you have to speak of sparing me? You wag your tail and beg for mercy before the Han invaders, then turn around and put on such a face before me — is that not laughable?"

The moment they heard him insult their lord so, several of Tachibana Muneshige's trusted aides beside him flew into a rage and reached for their swords, ready to finish off this old wretch. But Tachibana Muneshige showed no anger at all and merely raised a hand to stop them.

"Men are often not masters of their own fate. What use is there in putting on a brave front? Back then, I put on a brave front to resist Tokugawa Ieyasu — and what did I get for it? Over a decade of wandering and hardship, and in the end I could only wag my tail and beg for mercy before them... Yes, if we speak of wagging tails and begging for mercy, I did that long ago. Why would I care about doing it once more?" He, too, gave a faint, bitter smile. "Even you — are you not also not master of your own fate? You fought with reckless abandon... and what use was it? Did the shogunate ever send a single soldier to help you?"

"If you had not surrendered to the Han invaders and turned traitor against the shogunate, how could the shogunate have fallen into its present plight? However fierce the Han invaders may be, they are, after all, beasts from outside. But you — you are the venomous worms within Japan! For your own selfish gain, you surrendered to the Han invaders and helped them crusade against the shogunate. What face do you have left to stand between heaven and earth!" Under Tachibana Muneshige's gaze, Mizuno Katsunari showed not a trace of fear. "And now you want me to join you, to wag my tail and beg for mercy before the Han invaders? Dream on! I would rather die than betray the Godly Lord and wallow in the mire with curs like you!"

It seemed there truly was no hope.

Though he had long known this was the inevitable outcome, Tachibana Muneshige still sighed.

Mizuno Katsunari's furious scolding and insults did not move him or anger him. All the wandering, the separations, and the deaths he had experienced over these years had long since turned his heart to deadwood, incapable of being stirred by others any longer.

Hero? Traitorous cur? To an old man like him, with one foot already in the grave, what difference was there between such titles?

He looked Mizuno Katsunari over once more, his gaze sliding to the sword in his hand. The blade, from the fierce fighting just now, was already chipped and damaged in many places.

He reached into his bosom, then slowly drew his own sword. With a forceful flick of his wrist, he tossed it to the ground before Mizuno Katsunari.

"Surely you won't find this sword too filthy as well."

Mizuno Katsunari froze for a moment, then slowly bent down and picked up the sword.

This blade was a masterwork, a renowned sword forged through countless temperings. It was not heavy, yet one could feel a wordless, murderous intent emanating from it. Under the washing rain, its edge gleamed all the more with a cold, clear light.

"A fine blade!" He could not help murmuring in low praise.

To use this blade to carry myself out of this world — it truly wouldn't be a disgrace.

He picked up the blade, then raised his head to look at Tachibana Muneshige.

"Then I'll be going on ahead! I'll be waiting for you underground. There won't be any great army to protect you then — I'll make sure you learn what regret means!"

Then he turned his head away and looked at a retainer beside him. "You will serve as my second!"

The retainer nodded at once, even feeling honored by the task.

Then, laughing all the while, Mizuno Katsunari sat straight down onto the ground.

Then, gripping the personal blade, he slowly aimed it at his own abdomen.

Tachibana Muneshige remained mounted on his horse, watching him without moving.

Though he had no wish to see an old friend depart this world like this, he had to — it was a form of respect, and the only way left to make some small amends for his guilt.

The rain gradually ceased, the dark clouds slowly thinning, the outline of the sun seeming to emerge little by little. Just at that moment, Mizuno Katsunari let out a great laugh.

Then came the dull, muffled sound of a blade piercing human flesh — Mizuno Katsunari had driven the blade into his own abdomen.

Blood burst forth, a great quantity of it pooling on the ground. His agony was almost visible to the naked eye, yet he merely furrowed his brow and, without a single sound, slowly drew the blade horizontally across, leaving a long gash upon his belly.

Straight — a very fine straight-line cut. It must have taken tremendous grit and endurance to carve the abdomen so cleanly.

After Mizuno Katsunari finished the cut, the retainer standing behind him at his command let out a great roar and brought his own blade crashing down upon his lord's head. A single heavy, powerful stroke — it severed Mizuno Katsunari's head cleanly, sending it tumbling to the ground, where it stained itself with the blood he had just shed.

Tachibana Muneshige merely watched all of this in silence. He had seen such bloody scenes countless times in his early years, and he had once believed that his own day would come in just this way.

After serving as seconds for their lord, these several retainers also took their own lives one after another, and with that, the entire campaign in Fukuyama Domain came to an end.

Tachibana Muneshige dismounted, walked over to Mizuno Katsunari's remains, and bent down, turning over his sleeve cuff.

In that chaotic era many years ago, every general and daimyo would leave behind a death poem before dying. Some, uncertain of their fate in war, kept these death poems on their person — Mizuno Katsunari would likely be no exception.

As expected, he found it.

"Rain clouds veil the bright moon, mist shrouds the heart's lake. I shall depart upon the wind — the place I return to, emptier than empty." He recited it expressionlessly, then stood rooted to the spot for a long time.

He didn't curse us out again, at least.

Only — when one arrives there, can everything truly turn to void?

"Give them a proper burial," he said at last, leaving this command behind. He mounted his horse and returned to the great army.