"Kanbe'e, you have come a long way to Arioka! You must be exhausted from your journey. Please, rest your weary feet and make yourself at home!"

  Murashige Araki slapped Kanbe'e on the shoulder as he had always done, leaning in with a familiar warmth. The heat of his hand, the carefree laughter—it was the same boisterous and openhearted 'Lord Murashige' that Kanbe'e knew so well.

  Kanbe'e shook his head slightly. The mental strain of passing through those massive, beast-like castle gates to reach this room was far heavier than the physical fatigue of the long road.

  "Now, now, Kanbe'e, let us exchange cups first. I have little to offer, but I have had a meal prepared for you. Come, this way..."

  Though he looked somewhat haggard, Murashige seemed no different from their last meeting. Kanbe'e felt the tension that had been gripping his throat loosen just a fraction.

  At the guardhouse, Zensuke Kuriyama, Tahe'e Mori, and Kurouemon Inoue waited in silence, as if praying for their master’s safe return. In that moment, the three of them felt a strange sense of isolation, as if they were being severed from the outside world.

  "Is Shojumaru well? And how is Lady Teru?"

  "I have heard that Shojumaru is being raised with great care at Lord Hashiba’s residence in Nagahama since last year... As for Teru, when she saw me off this morning, she gave me some 'dried sweets' to give to him, as if he were right here. Please, laugh at our sentimentality..."

  Araki roared with laughter. It was a cheerful sound, the same vibrant ring it had when they once galloped across battlefields together.

  "More importantly, Lord Araki, is Lady Dashi well? Her beauty is said to be the finest in all of Settsu."

  "Dashi? From morning till night, she does nothing but offer those Christian prayers of hers! She will not even come near me. Gahahaha!"

  They indulged in small talk for a time. Yet, neither of them was truly enjoying it. It was the prologue to a tragedy about to unfold; perhaps both men were desperately using words to hold back the arrival of an irreversible 'moment' that they wished, in their hearts, would never come.

  However, Kanbe'e could not return empty-handed. Straightening his posture, he cleared his throat once and spoke, cutting through the brief silence.

  "Murashige, I have come today to deliver a plea. I ask you to apologize to the Lord Nobunaga and reconsider your defiance."

  In an instant, the warmth vanished from Murashige’s face.

  The laughter that had warmed the room until a moment ago felt like it had shattered into shards of ice upon the floor. Murashige’s eyes pooled with a deep, muddy darkness, coldly tracing Kanbe'e’s silhouette. It was the expression of a 'Grim Reaper' wearing the face of a dear friend.

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  After a long pause, Murashige spoke in a voice that sounded like cracked, dry earth.

  "Kanbe'e... I am truly sorry, but that wish cannot be granted. Our Lord Nobunaga is a man who will cast aside all past merits like dust at the slightest blunder... I feared I might be next. Once suspected, no explanation will suffice. I had no choice but to prepare for the worst and wait for my end—or strike back... One day, you too will find yourself burned by those cold, pitiless eyes. I simply refused to sit still and die. That is all..."

  Kanbe'e immediately countered the words he had anticipated.

  "Murashige, return to your senses! I understand your fear of Lord Nobunaga. But the current momentum of the Oda is a torrent that no one can stop. If you turn your back now, the people of Settsu and your own kin will all be consumed by the flames of war. Our Lord may have harbored suspicion once. But if you go to him yourself and prove your sincerity, a path will surely open. I will mediate through Lord Hideyoshi, even if it costs me my life. ...Murashige, we are friends, are we not?"

  Kanbe'e knew well that Murashige’s resolve was not so light as to be swayed by such soft words. Thus, he pressed further.

  "I cannot bear to see a man of your strength rot away in such a dead end. Open the gates now and come with me to Azuchi. ...I beg of you, do not act in haste!"

  Kanbe'e’s words certainly reached Murashige’s heart. But to a man who had already shed blood in a rebellion that staked the fate of his clan, the 'sentiment' reaching him now was as lethal as poison.

  "Kanbe'e, you are an unlucky man... Truth be told, there is a man who looked forward to your arrival here more than anyone else."

  Murashige’s lips curled into a distorted, crescent-moon smirk. He pulled a letter from his robes and, rather than handing it over, dropped it at Kanbe'e’s feet as if discarding filth.

  Kanbe'e did not look away from Murashige’s frozen gaze. Suppressing the trembling in his fingers, he picked up the letter. As he unfolded the paper, his eyes scanned the text and then froze upon a single point.

  The handwriting was unmistakable. It was the shaky yet certain brushstrokes of his own master, Masamoto Kodera—strokes he had seen and traced since childhood.

  “I am sending Kanbe'e to you as a mediator. This man is utterly devoted to the Oda and is a true 'thorn in my side,' forcing my Kodera clan into Nobunaga’s service. This is a rare opportunity. Capture him, and deal with him as you see fit—boil him or bake him. If Kanbe'e’s head is taken, I shall sever ties with Nobunaga without hesitation and exchange a formal pledge with you to join your cause.”

  The characters began to writhe like black snakes, encroaching upon Kanbe'e’s vision.

  ‘Boil him or bake him...’ Those vulgar words mocked every ounce of loyalty Kanbe'e had ever offered. The reward for the brilliant strategies he had poured his heart and soul into—to protect his master, to protect his house—was summarized in this single scrap of paper.

  (My Lord... Is this... is this the final command you give me? I, Kanbe'e, could read the trends of the world, yet I could not read the depths of the dark ugliness pooled in a human heart...)

  Strength left Kanbe'e’s hands, and the letter fell limply onto his lap. An unbearable sense of emptiness washed over him, as if all the blood were draining from his body through his feet. His spine, which had been held so straight and proud until a moment ago, visibly collapsed.

  A hot, bitter lump rose in the back of his throat. It was not the rage of betrayal, but a violent loathing and nausea directed at his own arrogance—the belief that he could manipulate the hearts of others.

  "Kanbe'e! It seems your 'resourcefulness' could not even kill a single seed of 'jealousy' in your master’s heart!"

  It was the moment the young strategist, who believed he could navigate the world with intellect alone, was thrust away in the most cruel fashion by that very intellect and kicked into the depths of the abyss.

  Produced and written by a Japanese author, rooted in authentic Japanese history. Translated with the assistance of Gemini (AI).