SAMURAI

Chapter 23; Saburo-Mitsui Sukenaga

    The city center of Hakata was improving. Banners are stuck everywhere. The boat-shaped roof of the house upside down glued by colorful fabric. Hundreds of lanterns hung on all the roofs of the houses lined with small bells. Two Generals were having a big interest. Horses and chariots cut through the road covered with thin snow. Samurai families from various Clans have come. The flags of each samurai clan have livelily lined the roadside. Samurai from Higo and Hizen in the north and south of Kyushu island mingled with the samurai clan of the capital city of Kamakura. 

    The weather was quite sunny with a degree of cold which is quite biting. Horse-drawn carriages and buffalos followed one after another over the road. The market was full of shouts of sellers and buyers. Fancy restaurants were crowded with visitors even though lunch isn't the time yet. The inn was full. Old, young, girls, virgins did not look at caste to enliven the atmosphere of the city. They wore colorful haori kimono. Red, yellow, blue, green, orange, purple, all colors blended.

    Goro's horse leads in front of us. Kuroma walked slowly swinging. Hot air came out of his nose billowed to form steam. His black mane fluttered. Goro's horse was striking among other horses passing by. The envious eyes of the samurai were visible, hoping to have a horse like Kuroma.

    After passing through the hustle and bustle of the city, our journey was led uphill. Past the lodges which also cleaned up. Goro directed Kuroma to the main road where luxurious and magnificent buildings stand out compared to other buildings in the vicinity. The five-meter-high building wall fence protected the entire area. 

    The wall gate was made of large wood. Reconnaissance holes stuffed the walls as a place of reconnaissance as well as defense. In front of the gate, dozens of samurai swords and spears lined up in a four-row formation. The archer stood at a guard post higher than the wall, ready with his bow and arrows. Their eyes wandered at all suspicious movements. Small groups of samurai totaling seven to nine people toured the entire fort. Tension seemed to spread. Their faces look contrasted with the faces of the townspeople who dissolve in a party.

    "Very tight guard. As if preparing for war, "I said from behind Goro.

    Our body jumped. Goro calmed the horse. Kuroma was tensed to see dozens of samurai in full alert.

    "The Hiki clan. We have succeeded in crippling the traitor samurai. But, there are still the remnants of their samurai followers who escaped. "

    "Thank God Hiki Tomomune has been caught."

    "Already sentenced to death. Including fifty of his samurai followers." Goro continued, "That is why they are still tense. Because there are still samurai remains that haven't been caught. General Shoni Kagesuke does not want to be embarrassed. There was General Adachi and his two sons and daughters who visited. General Shoni wants to make sure the party tomorrow is lively, safe, and successful."

    Beside Goro, Saburo glared at the samurai. He sometimes nodded when he passed a samurai he knew. Goro is calm. He deflected Kuroma away from the Kyushu ruler's samurai residence complex. We followed the winding road. Jiro and Taro drive behind us. They were still involved in murmuring dissatisfaction with the unfair behavior of their teachers.

    "What happened to the Hiki Tomomune family?" I asked naively.

    Goro was silent for a moment. He tried to compose the right sentence to explain the customs of the samurai.

    "He is a rebel leader. Betrayed Bakufu. He does not deserve the honor of seppuku. He was beheaded like a horse thief. His wife and concubine were stabbed. All of his children were killed."

    "Including children?" I asked cautiously.

    In every rebellion and war, the most pathetic victims are children and women. The image of Ilkhanat's cruelty flashed past, followed by Tomoe Aya and his family. Innocent little Aya must be the cruelty of the losing party.

    "Yes. All their families were killed. Their property was confiscated. Nothing left. Appropriate punishment for traitors to the State," said Goro coldly.

    I still do not understand very well the concept of Bushido which they profess. It's hard for foreigners to understand the philosophy of the samurai way they believed in. The betrayer is worthy of being eradicated, but killing all the children and wives who did not commit treason to me sounds like a crime against humanity. Then, what is the difference between them and the Ilkhanat army which devastated the cities?

    The conversation about the concept of judgment over the rebellion ended in anti-climatic. We fell silent along with each other's thoughts. Saburo remained silent. Jiro and Taro are still busy arguing over the teacher's treasure. Our four horses approached a fenced house. 

    Two samurai gatekeepers hurriedly approached. Both of them bowed respectfully, opening the gate for us. A spacious yard with a beautiful garden full of welcoming bonsai. Thin snow covers the leafless branches. The sound of neighing horses from the stable behind the main house sounds lively. Four, six, eight whines sounded. At least the young samurai who began to rise is quite prosperous.

    The wooden house was quite large and stands well surrounded by three small houses. The house looks newly repaired. The buffer wood supports eight pedestals. The roof of the house is quite high curved in the middle, typical of a beautiful house of a middle-class samurai. The smell of paint still caught my nose in the wind. The graveled cobbled paths were neatly crackled as our straw sandals passed through. 

    Extending ten meters to the main house, the leaves are trimmed with beautiful patterns. The small pool is decorated with a splashing pagoda showerhead. Although winter spreads thin snow, the park does not leave frost on its leaves and grass. All neatly arranged, beautiful, artistic, classy.

    "Your house is nice," I said sincerely.

    "Not really. There are still many other samurai family houses that are better.”

    I was more amazed to enter this samurai's house. The wooden shiny buffer. The floor was blackish-brown, clean, and greeted us warmly. Jiro and Taro looked around with their mouths open. They looked jealous of the prosperity of samurai who are almost the same age. Saburo looked familiar with his adopted brother's house.

    Two wooden doors slid open. A seven-year-old child ran to greet us. Behind him, a middle-aged beautiful woman smiled. The pink winter kimono made her look very pretty for a woman who was married.

    "Hooray, Oji-chan is coming," the boy shouted spoiled as he ran towards his uncle.

    Goro laughed widely. "Masami-kun, you're getting bigger," replied the uncle. Masami jumped into the arms of Goro. The young samurai carried his nephew, stroking the boy's head lovingly.

    "This is my sister," said Goro.

    The middle-aged woman bowed to us. "My name is Takezaki Naoko."

    We bowed back, introducing ourselves one by one. All have clans. But not me. I mentioned only the name.

    Naoko looked away at Saburo. Her eyes glowed as she looked at his adopted brother. Naoko invited us into the inner room. We took off the straw sandals. The soles of my bare feet absorbed the warmth of the wooden floor. Goro's older brother was leading us, while Goro was still busy chatting with his nephew.

    A tatami-bottomed living room delivered warmth. Kyooma[1]-sized room scented with igusa grass made our noses expand. The smell of distinctive Japanese grass was lulling, made me linger in meditation. 

    My mouth was stunned to find dozens of paintings hanging on wooden walls. The painting of the mountain and its dense forest, the sea, and its white sand beach, Kuroma was standing two feet forward, and one painting that made me chuckle.

    We dropped the body. The softness of the tatami spoiled our bottoms.

    "Please rest first, I will prepare drinking and food," Naoko said. 

    The beautiful woman moved from the living room. Saburo's eyes continued to follow until Goro's sister disappeared around the corner.

    Shortly afterward Naoko returned accompanied by two old servants. Trays filled with food, plates, cups, sake bottles, face cloth, successively arrived. Two, three times two servants and Naoko passing by preparing food. 

    Goro appeared still with his nephew who did not want to be separated from the sling. The little boy hugged the uncle's body closely. Not seen his father. I'm reluctant to ask further.

    "Nice painting. Did you paint all that? " I asked.

    Goro chuckled. "Yes. Teacher Bokku Shigen's teachings before he taught me to play the sword."

    I pointed to an interesting painting. Memories of a few months ago flashed fast, blending into the scene in the painting. A painting of a procession of beheading. Four headless bodies. One figure still faces down. The executioner raised his large ax. The painting is very detailed. The blood-splattered, the audience's expressions were jazzed, the metal flashes in the eyes of the ax in the sunlight, all summarized in brush strokes.

    "Is that me?" I asked bitterly.

    Goro patted my shoulder. He smiled broadly so that his white front teeth were visible. Taro, Jiro who didn't know the truth looked closely at the painting. His face illustrates the demands of questions that require answers. Saburo stared at the tatami.

    "A memory that is hard to forget. As a reminder that haste only leaves deep regret. If only Teacher Bokku Shigen did not appear, I would regret it for life. "

    My breath caught hearing his explanation. "You're just sorry. But, I would lose my head."

    Goro chuckled. "Let's forget about the incident. Let's enjoy our friendship today with dishes that have been prepared."

    All present agreed. Crispy laughed. Let the past flew with the flow of the Sumida River. A small table with dishes ready was available in front of each guest. Steaming warmed rice, smoked fish, grilled meat, soup, sashimi accompanied. We raised a small glass of sake, a toast to one another. One glass of sake was demolished in the stomach. 

    Goro sat beside me, successively Jiro, Taro, and Saburo. Naoko sat next to her adopted brother. There was a strange relationship that was caught by me. Naoko mostly served Saburo. Two more dominant old waiters served us. Saburo's cold face suddenly disappeared when he was close to Goro's sister. His smile was always attached. He even talked a lot, laughed more often.

    As a tit for tat, Naoko was like a young girl new to love. She often blushed when the praise from Saburo dropped into her ears. Good taste of cuisine, beauty, good heart, continued to bring up Saburo. Although not spoken, I can capture the love signal between the two of them. My heart which was filled with love could smell a fellow.

    Masami laid beside his uncle. The little boy slept on his stomach, snoring softly with Goro's hands and stroked his back. Goro was involved in a serious conversation with Jiro and Taro. Three men of different social strata looked familiar discussing issues. The State was being threatened. Two usually hostile streams of ninja, this time fused to get rid of differences. 

    In between conversations about politics and security intrigued me, the three of them sometimes asked me about my opinion. As a former knight who took part in the Ilkhanat army to conquer, my experience and story were taken into consideration. 

    Every country that falls in defeat is always preceded by a thin sense of nationalism of its population. The intrigue of divisions, power struggles between factions, betrayal were the main causes of failure in defending the State.

    "Have the Ilkhanat troops ever lost?" Goro asked me.

    I take a sip of sake before answering. "Yes. Two years after the conquest of Baghdad, in the Ain Jalut war."

    Goro was not a typical stupid samurai. His knowledge was broad. He learned a lot from many Chinese and Goryeo people about the world map. He knew very well the story of a dynasty that had triumphed for five hundred years in submission in less than a month. The conquest and destruction of Baghdad left an acute fear for other countries. The story of the cruelty of the Ilkhanat army crossed borders between countries.

    "Tell me about the battle," Jiro pleaded.

    "Yes, we want to hear it," said Taro

    Saburo and Naoko were also interested in hearing. I adjusted my sitting position more comfortably. 

    "At that time the Ilkhanat army only fought one ethnic group, the Mamluk sultanate. The Ilhanat army was supported by many troops from various nations. Besides the Mongols themselves, the Georgian, Armenian, Cilicia, and of course the Templar forces. We did win the amount. But large numbers do not always end in victory.  The joint forces of many countries are their weaknesses. We suspect each other, mock each other, and feel the strongest."

    I took a deep breath. As a descendant of two different nations, I feel the pinch between Asia and Europeans. Not worthy of being a wolf, not strong enough to be a tiger.

    "How can they defeat the great Ilkhanat army?" asked Goro increasingly hooked.

    I tried to collect the story I got about a glimpse of events thirteen years ago. 

    "They use guerrilla tactics. Attacked us for hours then disappeared. The Mamluk troops know that facing a large Ilkhanat army directly will result in a total defeat. Our weapons are more sophisticated. Our army has more experience in open battlefields. They invited our troops to their area, and they were very familiar with every inch of their territory. 

    When the Ilkhanat Army was provoked, it was there that we were attacked from various sides until they were divided. The Ilkhanat army was herded high and was beaten in the jungles which were full of traps. There, we were slaughtered. The squad leader, General Kitbuqa, was injured. We lost completely and withdrew."

    Jiro, Kato, Saburo gaped at my story. Naoko and the two old waiters were still busy filling our glasses. Sake bottles replaced. Goro thought. His eyes closed. He felt something was strange about my story.

    "I admire the strategy of the Mamluks. But, I'm also sure the Ilkhanat army has predicted their strategy. Doesn't the Ilkhanat army also have a spy?" Goro asked me.

    I admire the intelligence of this young samurai. Worthy of his brilliant career. He can see what is hidden. I pointed my thumb at him.

    "You are right. We already predicted their strategy. But, they are good at tricking us. They divided the troops into several small troops. Not only did they attack guerrillas, but they also briefly served us in open warfare. Of course, we can win easily. They fed three small armies who fought valiantly in open war. Three small troops containing every thousand troops, of course, not our opponent. However, they fought bravely. That's what caused us to fight with tens of thousands of soldiers. A pseudo victory, we move forward. Lured into their trap. Destroyed."

    It would be foolish to feel victorious when the battle had just begun. "One more thing that makes them win," I explained further.

    Saburo, Jiro, Taro are waiting impatiently. I deliberately gave pause. Taro is hooked. Exasperated, he stomped like Goro's niece when sulking. Exactly the behavior of his teacher, Moroshige.

    "What?" Taro asked.

    Goro smiled amusedly at the behavior of his new impatient friend. I chuckled. Saburo also laughed followed by Naoko. The woman who had not been thirty years old closed her mouth while laughing.

    My eyes circle all my new friends. Ended on Goro. He is considered the leader of this friendship.

    "There is greater than the number of troops, strategy, weapons, and supplies. Namely, faith and unity. It is the belief in the religion they profess, plus the unity of all the people that makes them win."

    "What do you mean?"

    "The Mamluks also consisted of many tribes who were often at odds. However, when their country was attacked, all differences and disputes were put aside first. All forces unite against the invaders."

    Goro exhaled his breath. He seemed to release all the burden that had been pressing. "You mean, we Japanese must also unite. Putting aside the differences between clans, put the ego between samurai families first. "

    I replied quickly, glancing at Jiro and Taro. "Yes! All must unite. That's why the Koga ninja ruler and the Iga ninja ruler appeared together in the Iki forest. They know, if divided, two ninja territories will be lost forever."

    Jiro, who was tall, replied with a low voice. "I know now why our teacher gave their favorite things to you. Teacher Masashige and teacher Moroshige knew you are the ones who can share your knowledge with us. Your experience is a useful reference for the survival of this country."

    "Maybe," I tried to dodge. 

    Shame struck me. I haven't done anything for this country. In return, I have received many gifts, favors, and even love from the people.

    Jiro and Taro bowed to the north, where the Koga and Iga regions were located. They dropped their bodies, prostrating themselves to figures that were not necessarily there. 

    "Forgive us, Teacher. We cannot see what you have seen."

    Goro turned his head that lay on his lap onto the pillow. The little boy was still fast asleep without caring what would happen to his country. Goro approached, shaking my shoulder. He looked straight into my eyes.

    "Thank you, my friend. I can see clearly now. Unity supported by belief can conquer everything!" he shouted hoarsely. His face flushed too much sake.

    My head nodded convincingly. Goro burst out laughing, followed by Saburo, Jiro, and Taro.

    "Let's drink! Nee-chan, bring out the best sake. We celebrate this friendship. We celebrate until we lose the caste barrier that separates us! One for all, all for one!" Goro shouted.

    Out of nowhere, he knew that phrase. Maybe from European traders who were drunk. One for all, all for One. Sake sprinkled. The rest we drunk until our heads throbbed hard. We got drunk in broad daylight, sleeping together in one room until midnight.

    When I woke up, Goro, Taro, and Jiro still snored loudly. Saburo was not in place. Our bodies were covered up. Maybe Naoko covered our bodies when our consciousness was gone. I rise. The back of my head was still throbbing. Residual alcohol still hit hard. My sword and bag were beside the door. Tiptoeing in fear of waking them up, I took my belongings, sliding the shoji door.

    It's quiet outside. Cold smothered. Snow fell again. Thin. Icicles made light from the sky obstructed to earth. The oil lamps in the corners of the room swerved, its rays breaking through the night's gloom. On the veranda, I put on my sandals, preparing to continue my journey when a male voice was heard from the corner of the veranda. 

    He sat alone, watching the falling snow soaking flowers in the garden. Saburo looked at me.    

    "Will you leave without saying goodbye?"

    I momentarily stunned, still wearing my straw sandals.

    "There are still questions that I want to find answers to," I answered.

    "Tomoe Gozen's granddaughter?"

    I nodded. 

    He walked slowly closer. His footsteps were guarded so as not to wake the others. The smiling samurai sat next to me. His haori kimono was glued to his body, keeping it warm.

    "Even though you love her, she is not yours. There are things where we have to give up our love to evaporate like snowflakes on the earth. A moment to pile up and then melt absorbed by the ground," said Saburo.

    For the first time, I heard a long sentence about love coming out of the quiet samurai's mouth. "Like your love for your adopted sister?" I replied.

    He laughed softly. Bitter.

    "I loved Naoko since I was little. She is five years older than me. My father was a close friend of their father since she was young. Naoko took care of me since I was young, invited me to play, taught me a variety of basic knowledge. I secretly loved her. When she married our relative from another samurai family, my heart broke up. 

    I was a teenager at the time, crying loudly on her wedding night. When she left home to follow her husband, there was no joy left in our house. I ran away Immersed in social relations abysmally. Until Goro found me, took me to wander. He saved me from pointless death."

    "Where is her husband now?"

    Saburo threw his gaze into the room where Goro and two ninjas were fast asleep. There is no one other than us. He continued his sentence in a low voice.

    "Watanabe, Naoko's husband, died two years ago. He was killed in battle while fighting a pirate."

My breathing stopped for a moment. Saburo sighed softly, continuing, "Strangely, I'm happy to hear the husband of the person I love died. I am happy for a child who lost his father.”

    Saburo squeezed his hair. His tall body bent. He covered his face with his palm.

    "I hate myself. I'm selfish. Evil."

    Muffled sobs could be heard from his nose. This Samurai who spreads death cries crushed by love.

    "Now Naoko is no longer married anymore. Why don't you express your feelings? "

    Still, with his palm over his face, he answered, "I'm afraid."

    "Afraid of what?" I asked, chasing.

    "I'm afraid she will reject me. Order me to decapitate dozens of heads, I will do it with pleasure. Tell me to fight to the death, I will do without thinking twice. But, I will die because I was rejected by love. If she rejects me, I can't go on with this life. I'd rather split my stomach than love twice failed, "he said firmly.

    I laugh softly. Patting the shoulder next to me that crackled with sobs. "You're wrong, friend. Naoko also loves you."

    He removed his palm from his face, turned it towards me. Looking at me wide-eyed. The light from the nearby oil lamp made the two eyes glow. There was hope as well as a threat. Before he would kill me for waiting for an explanation, I continued my review.

    "Fear makes your heart insensitive. Since this morning, I have captured two hearts that have been united. Unfortunately, those two hearts closed themselves. When Naoko poured drinks, served food, her gestures, the look in her eyes, not just the eyes of a brother at his sister. She loves you as a grown man. It may be that Naoko loved you a long time ago."

    "You … are you ... serious?" he stuttered. Saburo's eyes flashed brightly. This samurai was being swayed by love. He hoped I can get rid of his fear.

    "She is waiting for your expression of love, my friend! You will regret for the rest of your life if you remain shackled by your fears."

    He bumped into my body. Hold me tight. An unusual attitude between samurai who are full of norms.

    "Thank you, Genta. Thank you, my friend. I will express my feelings." Saburo could not hold his heart. His sentence trembled hoarsely, excitedly.

    He didn't need to wait so long to express his love when the shoji door opened. Naoko's face was in tears staring at the man who was hugging me.

    "Onee-san ..." Saburo's voice trembled.

    Saburo's face was pale. He looked down in shame. His hands trembled, sweating in the cold night even more sticking out. Naoko was waiting. Saburo moved closer to Naoko who was still sitting quietly. The woman looked down. 

    Saburo squeezed Naoko's hand, squeezed the fingers still holding the handkerchief.

    "Nee-san, I love you so much. I want you to give birth to my children. I will love Masami as much as I love my children."

    Naoko's tears were increasingly melting. She nodded many times. Saburo did not wait anymore. He embraced Naoko, carrying the woman's head to his chest. Saburo, the quiet samurai, has changed since he knew love. His poetic sentences touched my heart.

    "Oh, Naoko-chan, I have loved you since met you. Ever since you were present in the middle of my family ...." 

    He had not called "Chan (sister)" to Naoko anymore.

    My breath caught seeing the intimacy in front of me. The partition between two love has been erased. Only the barrier of my love was still shackling. Tonight, I will break through the bulkhead, just as Saburo broke into the barrier. 

    I cleared my throat softly. The couple was aware of my presence. Saburo's face turned red. Naoko looked down. Saburo looked at me thoughtfully.

    "What are you going to do, Genta?" Saburo asked.

    "For the sake of getting my love, I will run away Tomoe Aya tonight," I said firmly.

    He hissed restrained. 

    "You are crazy! That's the same as suicide! Your lover is in the protection of the Shiraishi Clan. Thousands of samurai will confront you. Not to mention, General Shoni and General Adachi will not remain silent. You ruined the atmosphere of their party."

    My laugh sounded hoarse. Saburo had forgotten the sentence he had just uttered.

    "You will do the same if you are in my position. Aren't you able to split your stomach to get love? " I asked rhetoric.

    Saburo took a deep breath. He knew my steps would not recede, and he said in a desperate voice, "Forgive us. You know we can't help you."

    I patted his shoulder. "It's OK, friend. I will not involve you guys. This battle is mine."

    I stood bent the body to them. Naoko and Saburo replied.

    "Say hello to Goro, Jiro, and Taro. Tell them, I am a Templar knight, honored to be friends with them."

    Before I left, Saburo called. "Wait! You need a horse. Use my horse. Your journey will be hard. That's all I can do to help you."

    I thanked Saburo. Night's getting late. I had to race with the sun would come out. When the dawn broke, there was no time to repeat the opportunities. After the party tomorrow night, Aya will be escorted by hundreds of soldiers back to Hizen. Too heavy to penetrate escorts in their territory. 

    I spurred on Saburo's horse, promised to return it when I no longer needed it. The samurai nodded, cheered, asked me to be careful.

    My destiny of love will be determined tonight.

[1] approximately 10.9 square meters.