"Don't waste your breath. You can flatter me as much as you like, but now that I've found you, I can't let you return alive. Did you intend to cross the border as one of the living?"

"I don't have the least intention of dying. But, Sanpei, the shadow of death is drifting across your face. Surely you didn't come chasing after me because you wanted to die."

"I came to take your head, on orders from my lord. And upon my life, I'll have it."

"Whose head?"

"Yours!"

The instant Sanpei drew his long sword, Watanabe Tenzo stood ready with his staff. There was some distance between the two men. As they continued to glare at each other, their breathing quickened and their faces took on the pallor of people on the verge of death. Then something must have crossed Sanpei's mind, for he sheathed his sword.

"Tenzo, put down your staff."

"Why? Are you scared?"

"No, I'm not scared, but isn't it a fact that we both have the same duties? It's all right for a man to die for his mission, but to kill each other in this fight would serve no pur­pose at all. Why don't you take off that monk's robe and give it to me? If you will, I'll take it back and say I killed you."

Ninja had a particular faith among themselves that was not common to other war­riors. It was a different view of life naturally brought about by the singularity of their du­ties. To the ordinary samurai, there could be no higher duty than to die for his lord. The ninja, however, thought quite differently. They held life dear. They had to return alive, re­gardless of the shame or hardships they had to suffer. For even if a man was able to enter into enemy territory and collect some valuable information, it did no good at all if he did not return to his home province alive. Therefore, if a ninja died in enemy territory, it was a dog's death, no matter how glorious the circumstances might have been. No matter how steeped in the samurai code the individual may have been, if his death was of no value to his lord, it was a dog's death. Thus, even though the ninja might be called a depraved samurai whose sole aim was to keep himself alive, it was his mission and responsibility to do so at all costs.

Both men held to these principles, right to the marrow of their bones. So, when San­pei had reasoned with his opponent that killing each other would do no one any good and had sheathed his blade, Tenzo immediately drew back his weapon as well.

“I didn't like the idea of becoming your opponent and gambling with my head. If we can finish this thing with a monk's robe, let's do it." He ripped off a piece of the robe he was wearing and threw it at Sanpei's feet. Sanpei picked it up.

“This is enough. If I bring this back as proof, and announce that I've cut down Watanabe Tenzo, the matter will be over and done with. His Lordship certainly won't demand to see the head of a mere ninja."

“This works well for the both of us. Well, then, Sanpei, I'll be going. I'd like to say that I’ll see you again, but I'd better pray that it'll never happen, because I know it would be the last time.”  With these parting words, Watanabe Tenzo walked away quickly, as though he had suddenly become afraid of his opponent and was happy to have saved his own skin.

As Tenzo began to descend the slope of the pass, Sanpei picked up the gun and fuse that he had previously hidden in a clump of grass, and followed him.

The report of the gun could be heard echoing through the mountains. Immediately, Sanpei tossed the weapon aside and leaped down the slope like a deer, intending to deal the finishing blow to his fallen enemy.

Watanabe Tenzo had fallen on his back in a clump of weeds on the road. But at the moment Sanpei stood over him and aimed the tip of his sword at his breast, Tenzo grabbed Sanpei's legs and pulled them from under him, bringing him to the ground with terrific force.

Now Tenzo's wild nature came to the fore. While Sanpei lay stunned, he jumped up like a wolf, seized a nearby rock in both hands, and smashed it down onto Sanpei's face. The impact made a sound like a splitting pomegranate.

Then Tenzo was gone.

*    *    *

Hideyoshi, now commander of Yokoyama Castle, had spent the summer in the cool mountains of northern Omi. Soldiers say that for a fighting man, inactivity is more trying than the battlefield. Discipline cannot be neglected for a day. Hideyoshi's troops had been at rest for one hundred days.

At the beginning of the Ninth Month, however, the command was given to depart for the front, and the gates of Yokoyama Castle were opened. From the time they left the castle until they arrived at the shore of Lake Biwa, the soldiers had no idea where they were going to fight.

There were three large ships berthed by the lake. Built over the New Year, they smelled of newly sawed timber. It was not until after the horses and men had clattered aboard that the soldiers were told that their destination would be either the Honganji or Mount Hiei.

Having crossed the autumnal face of the great lake and arriving at Sakamoto on the opposite shore, Hideyoshi's men were amazed to see that the army under Nobunaga and his generals had arrived ahead of them. In the foothills of Mount Hiei, the banners of the Oda stood as far as the eye could see.

After Nobunaga had lifted the siege of Mount Hiei and withdrawn to Gifu the previous winter, he had ordered the building of large troop ships capable of crossing the lake at a moment's notice. Now the soldiers finally understood his forethought, and the words he had spoken when he abandoned the attack on Nagashima and returned to Gifu.

The flames of rebellion that burned all over the country were merely reflections of the real fire—the root of the evil—whose source was Mount Hiei. Nobunaga was again laying siege to the mountain with a great army. His face showed new resolve, and he spoke loudly enough to be heard from the curtained enclosure of his headquarters all the way to the barracks, almost as if he were addressing the enemy.

"What! You're saying that you won't use fire because the flames might spread to the monasteries? What is war, anyway? Every one of you is a general, and you don't under­stand even that? How did you ever get this far?"

This much could be heard from the outside. Inside the enclosure, Nobunaga was sit­ting on his camp stool, surrounded by his veteran generals, all of whom were hanging their heads. Nobunaga was exactly like a father lecturing his children. Even if he was their lord, this sort of criticism was going too far. At least this was what the bitter expression on the faces of the generals indicated as they looked up, daring to look Nobunaga directly in the eye.

What were they fighting for, indeed? If they thought or worried about it, they risked their reputations by rebuking Nobunaga.

"You're being heartless, my lord. It's not that we don't understand, but when you've given us an outrageous order—to burn down Mount Hiei, a place respected for hundreds of years as holy ground dedicated to the peace and preservation of the country—as your retainers—and precisely because we are your retainers—there is all the more reason why we should not obey you," Sakuma Nobumori said.

A do-or-die expression showed clearly on Nobumori's face. If he had not been pre­pared to die on the spot, he could not have said this to Nobunaga. Especially the way No­bunaga was looking now. Although it was always rather difficult to speak frankly to their lord, today Nobunaga resembled a demon wielding a fiery sword.

"Silence! Silence!" Nobunaga roared, quieting Takei Sekian and Akechi Mitsuhide, who were about to back up Nobumori. "Have you not felt indignation when you watched the insurrections and this disgraceful state of affairs? Monks transgress the Laws of the Buddha, stir up the common people, store wealth and weapons, and spread rumors; under the guise of religion, they are nothing more than self-serving agitators."