In those few moments, Shosuke and his comrades scooped up and shared the water that trickled from between the crags on the mountaintop and calmly prepared themselves for death. Shosuke suddenly turned to his brothers Mozaemon and Shobei.
"Brothers, you should escape and return to our village. If all three of us achieve death In battle at once, no one will be able to carry on the family name or take care of our mother. Mozaemon, the elder brother is supposed to carry on the family name, so why go now?"
“If the younger brothers are cut down by the enemy," Mozaemon replied, "can the elder brother face his mother with the words 'I'm home now?' No, I'll stay here. Shobei, you should go."
“That would be horrible!" ?"
“Why?”
“For me to be sent home alive at a time like this would hardly be a pleasure for our mother. And our dead father must be looking at his sons from the other world today as well. It will not be my feet that walk back to Echizen today."
“Well then, we'll die together!"
Their souls united in a pledge of death, the three brothers stood unwavering beneath the commander's standard.
Shosuke made no further mention to his brothers about wanting them to return home.
The three brothers took their farewell drink from a scoop of clear spring water and, as a refreshing spirit passed through their breasts, all turned in the direction of their home.
One can imagine the prayers that were in their hearts. The enemy was approaching from all sides, close enough now that the individual voices of enemy soldiers could be heard.
“Guard the commander's standard, Shobei," Shosuke said to his younger brother as he put on his face guard. He was pretending to be Katsuie, and did not want the enemy to recognize him.
Five or six musket balls snapped past his head. Taking that as their cue, the thirty men invoked Hachiman, the god of war, and struck out for the enemy.
They divided into three units and attacked the advancing enemy. The men coming up from below were breathing hard and could not stand up to the desperate figures running down at them. Long swords poured down on the helmets of Hideyoshi's men, spears pierced their breasts, and their wretched corpses fell everywhere.
‘Let no one be too eager to die!" Shosuke shouted suddenly as he withdrew inside a palisade.
As the commander's standard followed him, so too did his remaining men.
‘It’s said that the slap of five fingers is not as strong as the blow of a single fist. If our little force scatters, its effects will be weakened. Stay beneath the standard whether we advance or-retreat."
Given that caution, they leaped out once again. Whirling one way, they cut furiously into the enemy; whirling another, they pierced him with spears. Then, like the wind, they withdrew to their ramparts.
Thus, they sallied forward six or seven times to fight.
The attackers had already lost more than two hundred men. It was close to noon, and an intense sun shone high overhead. The fresh blood on the armor and helmets dried quickly, giving off a black luster like that of lacquer.
There were fewer than ten men remaining beneath the commander's standard, and their fiery eyes hardly seemed to see each other. Not one man was uninjured.
An arrow pierced Shosuke's shoulder. As he looked at the fresh blood flowing over his sleeve, he pulled the arrow from his body with his own hand. Then he turned in the direction from which the arrow had come. The tops of a great number of helmets could be seen approaching, rustling through the bamboo grass like wild pigs.
Shosuke used the time he had left to speak quietly to his comrades. "We have fought every way we could, and we have nothing to regret. Everyone choose a respectable enemy and make a splendid name for yourself. Let me be the first, dying in our lord's stead. Do not let the commander's standard fall. Carry it high, one man after another!"
Those blood-smeared warriors so prepared to die raised the standard toward the enemy coming through the bamboo grass. The warriors moving in their direction must have been uncommonly fierce men. They came on unflinchingly, demonstrating the oaths they had made with their spears. Shosuke faced them and yelled out to dampen their spirits.
"How discourteous of you! Low-class nobodies! Are you thinking of putting your spears into the body of Shibata Katsuie?"
Shosuke looked like a demon, and in fact no one was able to stand in front of him. A number of men were speared down almost at his feet.
Observing the man's ferocity and fighting desperately with men who were willing to defend their commander's standard to the death, even the most violent braggarts of the attacking troops broke their encirclement and opened up a path to the foot of the mountain.
"Here I am! Katsuie himself is coming! If Hideyoshi is here, have him meet me mounted and alone! Come on out, monkey-face!" Shosuke yelled out as he went down the slope road.
Right there he pierced an armored warrior with a mortal wound. His elder brother, Mozaemon, had already been struck down; his little brother, Shobei, had crossed long swords with an enemy warrior, and each had struck the other dead. Shobei had fallen to the base of a nearby crag.
Beside him, the gold commander's standard lay abandoned, now completely red.
From both the top and the bottom of the slope, innumerable spears now pressed in on Shosuke's body, every warrior wanting to take the commander's standard and the head they believed to be Katsuie's.
Each man vied with the others for the prize. Beneath the confusion of spears, Menju Shosuke achieved death in battle.
A handsome young warrior of only twenty-five years, he had been held in low esteem by men like Katsuie and Genba because of his reticence, gentility, grace, and love of learning—Shosuke's innocent features were still concealed by his face guard.
"I killed Shibata Katsuie!" a samurai yelled.
"His commander's standard was taken by these hands!" shouted another.
Then every voice was raised, one man claiming this, another claiming that, until the entire mountain shook.
And still Hideyoshi's men had no idea that the head belonged not to Shibata Katsuie, But to Menju Shosuke, the captain of his pages.
“We've killed Katsuie!"
“I’ve held the head of the lord of Kitanosho!"
Pushing and shoving, their cries reverberated through the air. "The standard! The standard! And his head! We took his head!"
A True Friend
Katsuie had barely escaped with his life, but his army had been annihilated. Until that morning, the Shibata standard with its golden emblem had flown in the vicinity of Yanagase, but now only Hideyoshi's standard could be seen. It shone brilliantly in the bright sunshine, impressing all who saw it, symbolizing a reality that transcended ordinary wisdom and strength.
The flags and banners of Hideyoshi's army—which stretched out along the roads, and covered the fields presented a grand spectacle of victory. They were packed so closely together that they resembled a thick golden haze.
The army started eating its provisions. Hostilities had begun early that morning and had lasted for about eight hours. When the meal was finished, the entire army was given orders to advance north immediately.
As the men approached Tochinoki Pass, they could see the Tsuruga Sea to the west, while the mountains of Echizen opened up to the north seemingly right under their horses' hooves.
The sun was already beginning to sink, and heaven and earth burned with an evening glow encompassing all the colors of a rainbow.
Hideyoshi's face was burnt a deep red. He did not, however, appear to be a man who had not slept for days. He seemed to have forgotten that men need to sleep. Constantly advancing, he had not yet ordered a halt. At that time of year the nights were at their shortest. While it was still light, the main army bivouacked at Imajo in Echizen. The vanguard went on, however, having been ordered to advance as far as Wakimoto—more than two leagues away—while the rear guard stopped at Itadori, about the same distance behind the central army. Thus, the camp that night stretched for four leagues from van to rear.