In the midst of this endless procession of sights—the samurai and retainers, the personal attendants, the officials with their gold and silver saddles, the mother-of-pearl inlay, the sparkle of gold lacquer, the open umbrellas, the archers with their bows and quivers, the forest of red-shafted spears—what caught everyone's eye above everything else were the banners of the Takeda. Thirteen Chinese characters sparkled in gold on a bright red cloth next to another banner. Two lines of gold characters were displayed on the long anner of deep blue:

Swift as the wind

Quiet as a forest

Ardent as fire

Still as a mountain

Everyone knew that the calligraphy for this poem had been executed by Kaisen, the head priest of the Erin Temple.

"Ah, how sad that the very soul of that banner is leaving the castle at Tsutsujigasaki and moving on today."

Everyone in the old capital seemed sad. Every time the banner with Sun Tzu's words and the one with the thirteen Chinese characters had been unfurled and taken into battle, the brave soldiers had returned with them. At those times, they and the townspeople had shouted themselves hoarse with deeply felt cries of shared victory. Such events had occurred in Shingen's time, and now everyone missed those days.

And although the banner emblazoned with Sun Tzu's words was the same physically, the people could not help feeling that it was somehow different from the one they had looked upon in former times.

But when the people of Kai watched the enormous treasure and the stores of munitions being moved to the new capital, along with the palanquins and golden saddles of the entire clan, and the meandering procession of ox-drawn carts stretching for many leagues, they were reassured that theirs was still a strong province. The same feelings of pride that had been with them since the days of Shingen still lingered in the soldiers and even in the general population.

Not long after Katsuyori moved to the castle in the new capital, the red and white

plum blossoms in the garden were in bloom. Katsuyori and his uncle, Takeda Shoyoken—indifferent to the songs of the bush warblers—walked through the orchard.

"He didn't even come to the New Year's celebrations. He said he was sick. Hasn't he sent some news to you, Uncle?" Katsuyori asked.

He was talking about his cousin, Anayama Baisetsu, who was the governor of Ejiri Castle. Located on the border with Suruga, it was considered by the Takeda to be an important strategic area to the south. For over half a year now, Baisetsu had not come to wait upon Katsuyori, always sending the excuse that he was ill, and Katsuyori was worried.

"No, I think he's probably really sick. Baisetsu's a priest and an honest man; I don't think he would pretend to be ill."

Shoyoken was an exceptionally good-natured man, so this answer did not put Katsuyori's mind at ease.

Shoyoken fell silent.

Nor did Katsuyori say anything more, and the two of them walked on silently.

Between the keep and the inner citadel was a narrow ravine filled with different kinds of trees. A bush warbler dropped almost as if it had fallen, fluttered its wings, and flew away in surprise. At the same time a voice came suddenly from a row of plum trees.

"Are you there, my lord? I have important news."

The retainer's face had lost its color.

"Pull yourself together. A samurai should speak with self-control about important matters," Shoyoken scolded him. Shoyoken was not just disciplining the young man but was also trying to calm his nephew. Quite unlike his ordinary resolute self, Katsuyori had turned pale in surprise.

"This is not some small matter. It's really important, my lord," Genshiro replied as he prostrated himself. "Kiso Yoshimasa of Fukushima has committed treason!"

"Kiso?" Shoyoken's voice expressed a shock that was half doubt, half refusal. As for Katsuyori, he had probably already guessed this would happen. He was just biting his lip and looking down at the retainer prostrated in front of him.

The beating in Shoyoken's breast was not going to be calmed easily, and his lack of composure was echoed in his shaking voice.  “The letter! Let’s see the letter!”

"The messenger told me to tell Lord Katsuyori that the matter was so urgent there was not a moment to spare," the retainer said, "and that we are to wait for a letter from the next messenger."

As he walked away in great strides, Katsuyori stepped right past the still prostrate retainer and yelled back to Shoyoken. "It won't be necessary to see Goro's letter. There have been plenty of suspicious signs from Yoshimasa and Baisetsu in recent years. I know it's a lot of trouble, Uncle, but I'm going to need you to lead an army again. I'll be going too."

Before two hours had passed, the sound of a great drum rang out from the tower of the new castle, and the call of the conch shell floated through the castle town, proclaiming mobilization. The plum blossoms were almost white as this peaceful spring evening came to a close in the mountain province. The army set out before the end of the day. Hastened by the setting sun, five thousand men started out on the Fukushima Road, and by nightfall almost ten thousand troops had left Nirasaki.

"Well, this is just fine! He's made his revolt quite clear to us. If it hadn't happened, the day for me to strike down the ungrateful traitor might never have come. This time we'll have to purge Fukushima of everyone with divided loyalties."

Giving vent to the resentment that was so hard to control, Katsuyori mumbled to himself as his horse took him along the road. But the voices of indignation that traveled with him—the voices of resentment over Kiso's betrayal—were few.

Katsuyori was as confident as always. When he had cut off his relations with the Hojo, he had abandoned an ally without even looking back at the strength of the clan that been such a great support to him.

At the suggestion of those around him, Katsuyori had returned Nobunaga's son— who had been a hostage with the Takeda for many years—to Azuchi; but there was still plenty of contempt left in his heart for the lord of the Oda clan, and even more for Tokugawa Ieyasu in Hamamatsu. He had displayed this aggressive attitude since the battle of Nagashino.

There was nothing wrong with the strength of his spirit. He was extremely positive. Certainly, strength of spirit is a substance that should fill the jar of the heart to the brim. And during this period of warring provinces, the samurai class as a whole could be said to have possessed that kind of spirit. But in the situation in which Katsuyori found himself, there was an absolute need for unerring adherence to a composed strength that, at a glance, might be taken for weakness. A reckless show of strength would not intimidate an opponent. On the contrary, it only encouraged him. For a number of years, Katsuyori's manliness and courage had been looked down upon for this reason by both Nobunaga and Ieyasu.

And not only by these men, his enemies. Even in his own province of Kai there were voices expressing the wish that Shingen were still alive.

Shingen had insisted on a strong military administration of the province. And because he had given both his retainers and the people of Kai the feeling that they would be absolutely secure as long as he was there, they depended on him completely.

Even during Katsuyori's reign, military service, tax collection, and all other phases of administration were conducted according to Shingen's laws. But something was missing.

Katsuyori did not understand what that something was; regrettably, he did not even notice that something was missing. But what he lacked was a reliance on harmony and ability to inspire confidence in his administration. Thus it was Shingen's powerful government, now lacking in these two qualities, that began to cause conflict within the clan.