never seen
Dojoji
danced better.”
The dancer stiffened and turned in Kaze’s direction. “Excuse me,” Kaze said. “I do not wish to disturb your privacy, but I couldn’t stop myself from praising your skill at Noh.” Kaze made a deep, formal bow to the dancer.
Without responding with words, the dancer gave Kaze an equally formal bow, but it was done with a grace that made Kaze feel thick and awkward.
“Thank you for the pleasure of your dancing,” Kaze said. He turned around and made his way back to the path. Without looking back, Kaze started down the road again.
Kaze had seen many strange sights in his lifetime, but the silent Noh in a hidden mountain clearing had a dreamlike quality to it. Behind the mask, Kaze could not tell what the man was like, but perhaps that was the best way to be these days: silent and wearing a mask.
The world was changing, and not for the better as far as Kaze was concerned. After three hundred years of constant warfare, Japan had known a brief period of peace under Hideyoshi, the Taiko. But even Hideyoshi couldn’t stand a period of warriors dying of old age in bed, and he had attacked Korea with an eye toward eventually conquering China. After some initial successes, the entire Korean war had turned into a disaster, with many of Hideyoshi’s closest allies perishing in his foreign adventure. Hideyoshi himself remained in Japan, and he died of old age in his bed. Yet Hideyoshi’s death marked a dangerous time for his heir and his allies, for Tokugawa Ieyasu was sitting patiently in Japan’s richest region, the Kanto, waiting.
Ieyasu waited as Hideyoshi’s allies drained themselves of young blood in the ill-fated Korean adventure, while Ieyasu himself adroitly avoided getting deeply involved. Ieyasu waited while Hideyoshi declined in health with only a very young son as heir. Ieyasu waited while the Council of Regents, of which he was a member, decayedinto bickering and dissension instead of helping Hideyoshi’s young heir rule Japan. And finally, after a lifetime of waiting, Ieyasu took action and risked it all in a battle involving over two hundred thousand men. He defeated the forces loyal to Hideyoshi’s heir at the battle of Sekigahara, setting himself up to become the undisputed ruler of Japan.
Now Hideyoshi’s heir and widow were holed up in Osaka Castle, like badgers retreating into a lair, and the rest of the country was embroiled in chaos as the Tokugawas inexorably extended their control over the country, casting numerous samurai, who had been loyal to the losers at Sekigahara, free to wander the countryside as ronin in search of new employment. Kaze had no idea how many samurai were now masterless, but it could easily be fifty thousand or more. These men must find employment with some lord or they would lose their hereditary status as samurai—literally, “those who serve.”
Kaze found the large number of ronin wandering the country a convenience in some ways. It allowed him to blend into the crowd because the sight of a ronin anyplace in Japan was not at all unusual now. Normally Kaze’s instincts would be to go to Osaka to fight for Hideyoshi’s heir or to commit seppuku and follow his Lord into death. But he was not free to follow his instincts. In fact, he was not free at all.
When Kaze had been walking for an hour, a pair of eyes watched him much as Kaze had watched the Noh dancer, hidden in the woods and unseen. As soon as the watcher was sure of what he was seeing, he pulled away from his observation post and scrambled down a slope. At the bottom of the slope two men were sitting on the ground, playing dice. They were dressed in a colorful assortment of clothes and had two spears and a sword stuck into the earth next to them.
One slammed down a scruffy wooden dice cup and lifted it quickly. “Damn!” he said as he stared down at the dice.
His companion gave an evil, yellow-toothed grin. “This isn’t a lucky day for you.” He scooped up a
Dojoji
danced better.”
The dancer stiffened and turned in Kaze’s direction. “Excuse me,” Kaze said. “I do not wish to disturb your privacy, but I couldn’t stop myself from praising your skill at Noh.” Kaze made a deep, formal bow to the dancer.
Without responding with words, the dancer gave Kaze an equally formal bow, but it was done with a grace that made Kaze feel thick and awkward.
“Thank you for the pleasure of your dancing,” Kaze said. He turned around and made his way back to the path. Without looking back, Kaze started down the road again.
Kaze had seen many strange sights in his lifetime, but the silent Noh in a hidden mountain clearing had a dreamlike quality to it. Behind the mask, Kaze could not tell what the man was like, but perhaps that was the best way to be these days: silent and wearing a mask.
The world was changing, and not for the better as far as Kaze was concerned. After three hundred years of constant warfare, Japan had known a brief period of peace under Hideyoshi, the Taiko. But even Hideyoshi couldn’t stand a period of warriors dying of old age in bed, and he had attacked Korea with an eye toward eventually conquering China. After some initial successes, the entire Korean war had turned into a disaster, with many of Hideyoshi’s closest allies perishing in his foreign adventure. Hideyoshi himself remained in Japan, and he died of old age in his bed. Yet Hideyoshi’s death marked a dangerous time for his heir and his allies, for Tokugawa Ieyasu was sitting patiently in Japan’s richest region, the Kanto, waiting.
Ieyasu waited as Hideyoshi’s allies drained themselves of young blood in the ill-fated Korean adventure, while Ieyasu himself adroitly avoided getting deeply involved. Ieyasu waited while Hideyoshi declined in health with only a very young son as heir. Ieyasu waited while the Council of Regents, of which he was a member, decayedinto bickering and dissension instead of helping Hideyoshi’s young heir rule Japan. And finally, after a lifetime of waiting, Ieyasu took action and risked it all in a battle involving over two hundred thousand men. He defeated the forces loyal to Hideyoshi’s heir at the battle of Sekigahara, setting himself up to become the undisputed ruler of Japan.
Now Hideyoshi’s heir and widow were holed up in Osaka Castle, like badgers retreating into a lair, and the rest of the country was embroiled in chaos as the Tokugawas inexorably extended their control over the country, casting numerous samurai, who had been loyal to the losers at Sekigahara, free to wander the countryside as ronin in search of new employment. Kaze had no idea how many samurai were now masterless, but it could easily be fifty thousand or more. These men must find employment with some lord or they would lose their hereditary status as samurai—literally, “those who serve.”
Kaze found the large number of ronin wandering the country a convenience in some ways. It allowed him to blend into the crowd because the sight of a ronin anyplace in Japan was not at all unusual now. Normally Kaze’s instincts would be to go to Osaka to fight for Hideyoshi’s heir or to commit seppuku and follow his Lord into death. But he was not free to follow his instincts. In fact, he was not free at all.
When Kaze had been walking for an hour, a pair of eyes watched him much as Kaze had watched the Noh dancer, hidden in the woods and unseen. As soon as the watcher was sure of what he was seeing, he pulled away from his observation post and scrambled down a slope. At the bottom of the slope two men were sitting on the ground, playing dice. They were dressed in a colorful assortment of clothes and had two spears and a sword stuck into the earth next to them.
One slammed down a scruffy wooden dice cup and lifted it quickly. “Damn!” he said as he stared down at the dice.
His companion gave an evil, yellow-toothed grin. “This isn’t a lucky day for you.” He scooped up a
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