As Yoshitsugu predicted, a group of rebels came to the tower the following morning. The Toyotomi soldiers had kept the rebels' tents, repairing or replacing the damaged ones, and some of them strutted around in rebel uniforms. As soon as the archers in the tower spotted the incoming band, the majority of the soldiers dove into the tents while the others continued about in normal routines.
The familiarity fooled the rebels, who let down their guard as they approached, and as soon as they were in the center of the camp the archers in the tower let fly with their arrows. The Toyotomi soldiers lunged out and made short work of them, with the two Ishida lazily assisting.
With the scouting group gone, they braced themselves for a larger assault, for the rebels would not take the disappearance of their comrades lightly. Once again the Toyotomi kept up the ruse, and a tense day passed. In the morning, their archers alerted them to a large force of the rebels coming their way—about two hundred men. At this the Toyotomi soldiers grew nervous.
Yoshitsugu called the two Ishida and told them of his plan—Masazumi alone was to skirt around the enemy and attack them from behind as soon as they drew close enough to the camp. Mitsunari and Yoshitsugu would then attack the front together, and hopefully they would have reduced the numbers enough so that the Toyotomi could engage confidently without fear of major losses.
Masazumi, as usual, cheerfully agreed, but Mitsunari wasn't so certain. It was the first time he would fight a large group of enemies, on his own and without any backup except for the strategist. But it was an excellent opportunity for him to fulfil Hanbei's task. Just how deadly were Yoshitsugu's beads?
Everyone prepared for battle. Arming up, the soldiers concealed themselves within the tents while the disguised ones went about in as relaxed a manner as they could. Mitsunari and Yoshitsugu waited in the shadow of the watchtower, ready to advance.
As Masazumi walked past, he clapped his brother's shoulder gently before taking off into the trees. Watching him go, the younger Ishida clutched his katana a little tighter. Since last night, neither of them had mentioned the incident with the two brothers again, but the memory still burned at the back of his mind despite his attempts to forget it. He should have said something.
The morning songbirds fell silent and the soldiers continued their activity, making rounds around the tents, banging pots and pans near the campfires. A distant crackling noise reached them, accompanied by wispy clouds of dust rising into the air near the trees. Birds took off.
"How graceless," Yoshitsugu remarked, lowering his palanquin and beads so that they rested on the ground. "Not a single attempt made at stealth."
The first line of men appeared beyond the bushes. Mitsunari stepped quickly behind one of the beams of the watchtower. Pausing, the rebels surveyed the scene before them, and upon seeing what appeared to be their fellows moving about as if nothing had happened, marched towards them.
They drew closer and Mitsunari tensed. A curious sound followed, the soft thuds of numerous objects hitting the ground in an erratic shower. Screams and wails of agony soon followed, along with more thuds. He peered around the beam and a scene of panic and confusion greeted him. The rebels at the rear flailed desperately at a shadow that blitzed in and out of sight, while the ones at the front turned around to help.
Yoshitsugu lifted from the ground, the beads twining through the air around him, while Mitsunari broke cover and bolted towards the rebels, his long legs stretching gracefully. As soon as he got close, he leaned to the side and melted out of sight. Drawing his sword, he allowed setsuna to carry him and his outstretched blade through the front line, reveling in the trancelike movement of the world and all its creatures frozen in time while he was not.
He skated to a halt, and the whole front row of men collapsed, the air around them soon oppressive with the reek of blood, viscera, and excrement. Too late, the rebels realized they had fallen into a pincer attack, and as some of them spun to face their new foe, Masazumi flashed into view and they flew into pieces. He was away again before their swords and spears could find him.
Mitsunari jumped as a thunderous crack blasted out behind him. His jinbaori ruffled as a row of beads whooshed past and smashed into the heads of some of the rebels with skull-cracking force. The ones who had their bodies struck by the beads hunched over, clawing at themselves as if afflicted by some painful curse. As if attracted to them, the other beads came around again and struck them repeatedly. Mitsunari watched. A strange and terrible power resided within those beads. It did not seem that they could cause disease, but perhaps manipulated the senses, as the cursed men howled and scratched at their own skin.
Yoshitsugu remained always at a distance, the beads heeding his every command . It was a dance performed with only the mind and the arms, and although he should be helping to thin out the ranks, the Ishida warrior could not take his eyes away. For him combat meant using weapons to cut down the foe, but never something quite like this.
Masazumi reappeared, scything through another line of the enemy, and now the rebels scattered, screaming in terror. Determined that no one be allowed to escape, Mitsunari jerked free from his trance and surged towards the fleeing men, slicing them down one by one. In moments the battlefield was silent.
"Took you long enough to help," Masazumi remarked as they returned to the campsite.
Mitsunari shot him a glare. "In case you forgot, Hanbei-sama gave us an important task."
"I wouldn't forget an important task. However, I don't need to stand completely still to do it."
Scowling, the younger Ishida shoved him aside and pushed ahead.
Yoshitsugu commanded the soldiers to dress up as the rebels and march the Ishida brothers to one of the towers, fooling the remainder of the enemy there that the large group had returned with important captives, only to unleash said captives upon them. They repeated the trick on the remaining tower and soon all the rebels had been eradicated. At the last tower, they found a captured convoy of Toyotomi soldiers and liberated them. The grateful soldiers offered to man the towers until more forces returned to secure them. Their mission done, Mitsunari and his companions began the journey home.
They could not reach Osaka before nightfall, so they set up camp and there was much feasting and merriment among the men. Mitsunari shared a drink with his brother before noticing that Yoshitsugu had vanished. Asking around, he found the strategist floating near the top of a tree on the outskirts of camp, away from all the singing and laughter.
With the help of setsuna and some strikes of his sheathed katana, Mitsunari scaled the tree and swung himself up onto a thick branch. Yoshitsugu noticed him but did not move his head. Following his gaze, Mitsunari looked up into the night sky, marvellously shrouded in curtains of stars that shone brightly with no city lights to dim their glow. Shifting, he leaned back against the tree, stretching his legs out along the branch, and sighed. It was a beautiful night.
"Is this how you normally spend your time?" he asked. "Watching the stars?"
"I prefer the peace of solitude to the noise and chatter of people and celebration."
"We are not so different. I would rather be alone with those close to me, than be in the middle of a group of strangers."
"Do you have many friends?"
"None." Mitsunari looked away. "All my life my brother was my only friend. And that's fine, because I know he will always be there for as long as we both live."
"You two seem to lack rivalry, despite the usual bickering."
Drawing in a breath, his hand clenched tighter around his katana. "Rivalry...I suppose you're right. We don't feud. But sometimes, I..."
He trailed off, and the strategist glanced at him expectantly.
Mitsunari's skin prickled. "Can I trust you not to tell him?"
"I don't divulge secrets readily."
"Onii-sama does what an older brother should do. He looks after me, teaches me, protects me, does everything for me. I'm grateful. But sometimes...I feel I can never step out from his shadow."
"And so you think you won't accomplish anything on your own?"
"I know I will eventually. But that time seems so far away."
"Fortunes change. And judging from where you are now, someday you will get what you want. Someday, you will be able to step out and shine your own light for others to see, if you will pardon the saying."
"Someday." He allowed a wry smile. "But I am content with what I have. I love my brother dearly and would not give it up for anything. And you, Ootani? I don't know much of your background."
"It is nothing remarkable, and I have left many things behind me, which I do not care to revisit. Suffice it to say that I am much better off where I am now, than where I was before."
Mitsunari nodded and though he was curious, did not question him further. Obviously it was a sensitive subject, though he wondered if Yoshitsugu's illness had destroyed much of his life.
As they sat together, the strategist lifted a hand and pointed out some constellations hanging in the sky. Mitsunari struggled at first to see them, but Yoshitsugu patiently arranged his beads as a guide, and soon the Ishida warrior was identifying all sorts of stars.
"You're very knowledgeable about the stars," Mitsunari said.
"I have always found the heavens fascinating at night. They can guide your path when all is dark. And...their beauty is the same to all who see them, whether it is the common man, the beggar or the aristocrat."
"I never thought of it that way."
"Excuse my rambling. It is the result of pondering and thinking so frequently."
Mitsunari smiled. "But pondering and thinking is what a strategist does, is it not?"
Blinking, Yoshitsugu gazed at him for a few moments. There it was again, the crinkling of the lower eyelids. "Most correct."
The two fell silent again, but neither felt the need to say anything.
When Mitsunari's eyelids drooped, he doubted his ability to maintain his balance on the tree and slid back down to the ground. Yoshitsugu bade him good night but remained where he was. So the Ishida warrior returned to camp, locating the tent that he and his brother shared. Masazumi lay on his bedroll, fast asleep, and Mitsunari soon joined him.
#
All one hundred Toyotomi soldiers strutted across the bridge over the moat, and although some sported bandages from minor injuries, no one was badly hurt. The Ishida warriors and Yoshitsugu led the procession proudly, and cheering rose into the air as they passed through the barracks.
Yoshitsugu wanted to return to the palace to rest, so he took his leave of them. Mitsunari wanted to see his father but Masazumi reminded him that they needed to report to Hanbei while they had the opportunity, so they went.
As always, Hanbei greeted them with a smile. "Welcome back, you two. I'm glad that you're well."
"You sent us to exterminate pests impeding our progress," Mitsunari said, "and that's exactly what we did. In the name of the Toyotomi, they have all been purged and the towers retaken."
"Some reinforcements need to be sent to the towers," Masazumi said. "Currently they're manned by liberated prisoners. Our men, to be precise."
"That will be done. What of the other mission I gave you?"
"Ootani's beads can crush skulls and break bones," the older Ishida continued, "and no doubt they are capable of a great many attacks. But a strange property I noticed was that the beads can snare a man's mind and give him the perception of pain."
"Curious."
"I think the beads simulate some kind of disease," Mitsunari broke in. "Anyone afflicted scratches at their skin even in the heat of battle."
Hanbei tapped a finger against his chin, his eyes narrowing in thought. "So it's a distraction?"
"It seems that way."
"Very interesting. And what of the strategy?" With a graceful tug he pulled out a sheet of the map and laid it on the table. "Show me what happened."
The brothers recounted the plans Yoshitsugu had made, using markers to indicate exactly what had happened.
"It was rather unconventional, I admit," Hanbei said, "but I appreciate the unconventional, and his use of trickery. Tell me, do you think he did a good job?"
"His plans were all sound, Hanbei-sama, and they worked flawlessly. We didn't lose a single soldier."
"He knew very well what we were capable of," Masazumi added, "and utilized us effectively. And despite being outnumbered by the enemy, his plan to lure them out of hiding and lower their guard by having our soldiers disguise themselves, was a great success."
"So I have not misjudged him and he deserves his status as a Toyotomi strategist?"
"Yes," Mitsunari said.
Perhaps he spoke too quickly, as Hanbei turned towards him with a teasing glimmer in his eyes. "You sound very confident."
Face burning, he dropped his gaze. "I-I'm only reporting what I saw!"
Laughing, the strategist waved a hand. "I can tell that you like him. Masazumi-kun, please take your brother somewhere pleasant before he faints from all the blood going to his cheeks."
"Hanbei-sama!" Mitsunari whined.
"Come on, let's go," Masazumi said with a grin, grabbing his arm and tugging him from the room.
"He always seems to know exactly what's going through my mind," the younger Ishida mumbled once they were out of earshot.
"Of course! You're easy to read and predict, and always the last to catch on to something."
"Stop making me sound like a simpleton!"
Masazumi cackled. "But you are!"
"Well what does that make you? A brute with nothing but muscle between his ears?"
Any soldiers and servants who happened to be in the corridor at the time leaped for the walls as Mitsunari barreled past, with his brother in hot pursuit, and their thundering footsteps soon faded around the corner along with their laughter.
#
As the months passed, Mitsunari reported everything to Hanbei, even praising Yoshitsugu's ability when able. Soon, Yoshitsugu gained a reputation as a talented strategist and was entrusted with administrative duties. The Ishida warrior ruthlessly saw to it that his new friend received all the necessary respect and admiration from the soldiers.
One cold winter day, Mitsunari wanted to walk around the castle grounds, but Masazumi refused to budge from where he huddled under the kotatsu in his room. Flinging on a fur-lined haori, Mitsunari left the palace and went outside to the frigid air. The sun shone coldly through the overcast sky, and snow covered the world. The trees and their branches were bleached white by the snow, resembling rows of beautiful white coral.
"What are you doing out here, Mitsunari?" a hoarse voice asked. "Is it not cold enough indoors?"
Yoshitsugu floated towards him, and as the man was little more than a mound of thick robes and blankets with two eyes peering out, Mitsunari could not suppress the grin that stretched across his face. Turning quickly to one side, he pressed a hand over his mouth but his whole body shook with laughter.
"I simply must ask, what's so funny?" The palanquin bumped against his back, nearly knocking him over the railing of the bridge. Any harder and he would have flown into the frozen pond below.
Regaining his footing, he chuckled, as the cold air was making it hurt to laugh. "Have you looked in a mirror?"
"It is quite cold today, and I am rather sensitive to it. I won't compromise what remains of my health for the sake of fashion." Rather viciously, the palanquin thudded into the young warrior's backside again.
He responded with one of his death glares. "Stop that, Gyoubu, you'll give me bruises!"
"And how many times must I tell you to stop calling me that?"
"But it's shorter and so much easier to say!"
Yoshitsugu made a frustrated grunt and floated back towards the palace. Having had enough of the outdoors for now, Mitsunari followed.
"Are you alone today?" the strategist asked as they went to the other wing of the palace. "It's strange seeing you without your brother."
"He had no interest in leaving the kotatsu."
"Good," Yoshitsugu said dryly, opening the door to his room. "One of you laughing at me is enough."
The two made themselves comfortable around the hearth. A kotatsu had also been set up here, so Mitsunari dug his feet under it, relieved to be warm. Yoshitsugu, however, refused to remove a single scrap from the pile of blankets that covered him.
"All my joints ache," he said, "and whatever was numb before is even worse in this weather."
"I wish there was a cure for your illness," Mitsunari said quietly.
The pale eyes blinked at him, and as the entire face was wrapped up with a scarf, it was impossible to read the strategist. "There isn't, and there is no use wishing for one."
"But...wouldn't you want to get better?"
"Even if there was a cure, what good would it do me? My face and skin would never be restored to what they were before, and I have already lost the ability to walk." The man's voice grew bitter. "Whatever I had has already been broken. A cure, indeed!"
Mitsunari hesitated to reply—though they had known each other for some time now, it was the first time they had openly discussed the leprosy.
"You're right," he said at last. "Cure or no cure, it won't bring back what you've lost. But being resentful isn't going to bring it back either."
"You would not understand the pain. The pain that it delivers both to your body and to your life, tearing everything to little pieces, bit by bit. And then the people. How they look at you, like you're a flea-bitten rat. They make sure you aren't welcome anywhere, and the cruel ones try to rob you of whatever little you have, despite the risks. This isn't just a disease, it is a curse. How I would like so much for those people to experience it as well, so that they would know my suffering!"
Upon seeing the bewildered look on Mitsunari's face, he shook his head and heaved a sigh. "I apologize for my outburst. But when you have lived like this for so long as I have, without a single friend..."
"But I am your friend, am I not?"
Falling silent, the strategist did not answer.
"Surely," Mitsunari said, heat prickling his cheeks, "you were aware of this long ago when we first met."
"I was aware." Yoshitsugu seemed hesitant. "But...to actually hear someone declaring himself my friend is...a privilege."
"Then don't make me repeat myself."
"You are the only one I met who has treated me so kindly. For that, I am thankful."
His ears now burning furiously, Mitsunari lowered his head and smiled.
Outside, the snow fell gently.