June 4, the 10th year of Tensho. Hour of the Snake (approx. 10:00 AM).

  The relentless rain had finally ceased. The artificial lake surrounding Bicchu Takamatsu Castle lay as still as a mirror. Even the murky sediment washing against the castle walls seemed to hold its breath, observing a sacred silence before the impending ritual.

  This was the "Ritual of Seppuku," destined to be remembered as one of the most poignant scenes in the history of the Warring States.

  The heavy gates of Takamatsu Castle creaked open, and a single small boat rowed out slowly into the expanse. At its center sat a lone samurai clad in white funeral robes—Muneharu Shimizu, the lord of the castle. His expression bore no trace of the fear one might expect from a man facing death; instead, he possessed a serenity as clear and vast as an autumn sky.

  On the embankment, within the main camp of the Hideyoshi Hashiba army, Hideyoshi gripped his knees so tightly his knuckles turned white, his eyes fixed on the boat. Beside him stood Kanbe'e, motionless. He watched the vessel floating on the water as if it were a grain of sand within an hourglass labeled "Time."

  "Kanbe'e... must such a man truly die?" Hideyoshi whispered, his voice strained.

  Kanbe'e did not blink. With quiet, profound respect, he replied:

  "Muneharu has placed the lives of every soldier in that castle upon his own shoulders. He walks the path of the ultimate warrior. Our duty now is to witness his end without averting our gaze for even a single moment."

  The boat stopped in the middle of the lake. Muneharu quietly partook of the sake and side dishes sent previously by Hideyoshi, finishing his final earthly banquet.

  He gazed lingeringly at the cup on his lap before sinking it into the lake. The ripples spread slowly, deepening the silence. Standing tall, he projected his voice toward the twenty thousand soldiers of the Hashiba army lining the embankment, and toward his own men watching from the castle walls.

  "Knowing when to fall is the true beauty of the flower; so too must a man know when to leave this world, leaving his name to the moss of Takamatsu..."

  His poem drifted across the water, piercing the hearts of soldiers on both sides. Through his death, Muneharu sought to prove that this was not a "defeat," but a "victory"—one that would preserve the Mori family name and the lives of thousands of his men.

  "Mr. Chikuzen! Mr. Kanbe'e! If the life of this Muneharu alone can save my soldiers and the Mori name, there is no greater joy! To have fought against you this far... is my pride as a warrior. Now, witness my end!"

  Muneharu drained the last drop of the fine sake sent by Hideyoshi and allowed a faint, peaceful smile to cross his lips. His gaze did not wander toward the distant skies of Mikawa or Kyoto; instead, he looked fondly upon the mud-stained walls of Takamatsu and the soldiers who had fought by his side.

  At that moment, the twenty thousand men on the embankment and the Mori forces on the walls—tens of thousands in total—held their breath. The wind itself seemed to die. A terrifying silence took hold.

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  He adjusted the collar of his white robes and slowly unsheathed his short sword. The blade caught the sunlight, carving a path of light across the water’s surface.

  "The security of the Mori and the lives of my men... it is settled. Farewell!"

  Without a shadow of hesitation, Muneharu plunged the blade into his abdomen. As he sliced across in a single, straight line, a collective gasp like a low rumble of thunder erupted from the entire army, friend and foe alike.

  "Oh...!"

  Without showing a flicker of agony, staring straight ahead as he disemboweled himself, his figure was transcendently beautiful. The second’s blade pointed toward the heavens, then—a flash.

  As Muneharu’s head took flight over the lake and crimson blood struck the water, the heavy tension that had gripped Takamatsu shattered instantly.

  "Magnificent. Muneharu Shimizu... a splendid warrior, even if he was an enemy," Hideyoshi muttered, holding back tears. "Kanbe'e, is the peace treaty settled now?"

  Kanbe'e remained silent, bowing his head deeply toward Muneharu’s boat just once. It was his ultimate gesture of respect to a fallen hero. When he looked up, the sentimentality had vanished, replaced by a sharp, piercing light. He had already spotted the messenger returning from the inspection of the severed head.

  "Yes! Now that the head is verified and the treaty signed, the Mori cannot move. Muneharu has bought us this 'moment' with his life. We must not waste a single second of it!"

  The fire of ambition ignited in Hideyoshi’s eyes. His expression shifted instantly. Standing tall, he roared with a voice that shook the camp.

  "I know, Kanbe'e! Tell the whole army! Lower the banners! Silence the noise! By the time the Mori realize what’s happened, we’ll be at Himeji in a heartbeat! Let’s go! The great gamble of the 'Vendetta' begins—and it is we, the Hashiba, who shall arrive first!"

  A daring smirk played on Kanbe'e’s lips.

  "As you command. The 'Royal Road' prepared by Mr. Koichiro shall become our runway to the heavens. Let the entire army become the wind!"

  Kanbe'e barked out final instructions to prevent any chaos.

  "Send the swiftest runners ahead! Let them spread the word to every lord along the way: 'Lord Hideyoshi is marching to the capital!' Once the thunder of twenty thousand boots follows, the hearts of those considering Mitsuhide kechi will break. By the time we reach Amagasaki, we shall be a giant elephant of forty thousand!"

  Kanbe'e hurried toward Koichiro, who was frantic with loading provisions and final road inspections.

  "Mr. Koichiro. That road you built... it has now become the runway for our Lord to seize the realm. Give the order to the whole army immediately. We fly toward Kyoto!"

  Koichiro gasped. Looking into Kanbe'e’s unnervingly sharp eyes, a suspicion flickered in his mind—that this man had 'foreseen' this exact situation.

  "You... you knew from the start this would happen. You made me maintain that road just in case we were isolated here in Bicchu. You are a terrifying man."

  "I simply prepared for the worst as a strategist," Kanbe'e replied with a fearless laugh.

  "However, thanks to the magnificent road you prepared, our twenty thousand men can reach Himeji without a moment's delay. Our Lord will lead the charge. You, Mr. Koichiro, shall secure the rear with Lord Anjin. Verify the field kitchens and torches along the route. We must not lose a single man to the darkness!"

  Koichiro steeled himself and nodded firmly.

  "Understood. I will protect my brother’s path to the throne, even at the cost of my life. Kanbe'e, I’ll see this 'blueprint' of yours through to the end. Let’s move!"

  As Koichiro ran off, Kanbe'e paused for a heartbeat and reached into his robes to touch Hanbe'e Takenaka’s war fan. The cold lacquer felt soothing against his racing pulse.

  (Hanbe'e. The 'New World' you envisioned is finally within reach. My life... I shall burn it most brilliantly now. Watch me...)

  Kanbe'e looked up at the sky. As twilight approached, a bolt of lightning streaked across the western horizon. It was a flash signaling the end of an era and the dawn of a new, blood-stained age.

  "All units, charge!"

  At Kanbe'e’s command, twenty thousand soldiers became a single black dragon, surging toward the skies of Kyoto.

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