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The Fall of Daigo - Part 1 - Darkness in the North - Chapter 1

The Fall of Daigo

Book 3 of the Dororo Novel Series

Toriumi Jinzō

Part 1 - The Darkness in the North

Chapter 1


     It was a sunny day at the beginning of February. Though the morning had been warm, the afternoon was cold; thin snow blew from the mountain heights to the lowlands below. 

    Thunder rumbled in the distance. 

    Warm air from the Sea of Japan blew from north to south along the provinces connected by the Hokuriku Road, so thunderstorms were common there, even in winter.  

    Jukai looked up at the leaden clouds in the sky and cursed his luck. Only the roof of the ruined temple was visible through the thick mist covering the mountain. There had been no visitors over the winter; few travelers passed this way. Jukai didn’t expect that there would be many visitors in spring, either.  

    Jukai adjusted his pack, which was full of yams that he had harvested at the end of autumn and then buried in the cold ground to preserve them. There had been plenty of food for the children after Hyakkimaru killed Korikuma, a local bandit lord. Jukai and the children had simply carried supplies back from Korikuma’s fortress whenever they were running low. Those supplies were nearly exhausted now, so Jukai was preparing for the future.  

    Jukai had already sent word to Mount Kurama. His friend Sakuzō  would be sending food and medicine in due course, but travel was hard in winter, so Jukai and the children would need to hold out until those supplies arrived. 

    Hyakkimaru and Dororo had returned to the ruined temple at the end of spring last year, after their journey to  Ichijōdani. The children had rejoiced to see them, but Jukai had been feeling the lack the temple’s food variety even then. With yams, he would at least be able to make tororo soba  for everyone. He hadn’t made it in years, not since he and Hyakkimaru had lived on Mount Kurama with Sakuzō . Hyakkimaru had still been called Oniwakamaru then. Jukai remembered that Hyakkimaru had liked tororo soba better than almost anything else. 

    Jukai heard someone behind him and turned. “Dororo,” he said fondly. “Help me gather these yams.” 

    “All right.” Dororo picked up the cold yams, brushing snow off of them. He shivered.  

    Dororo and Jukai carried the yams back to the temple. Hyakkimaru and the children built a roaring fire in the kitchen and helped Jukai cook the tororo soba. The temple children had never eaten it before and more or less devoured it whole.  

    Hyakkimaru always remembered Mio when the children were happy. She had lived with them and protected them for long months in poverty and isolation. She'd be glad to see them being taken care of so well. Mio was dead now: killed by a Hall of Hell demon more than a year ago. She would sleep forever under the snow on the Flower Hill above the abandoned temple, but she lived on in all of the children’s hearts.  

    Jukai and Hyakkimaru drank warmed-up, unrefined sake in front of the fire in the kitchen.  

    “I’m going to Kaga with you,” Jukai said.  

    It slipped out; Jukai hadn’t meant to say it.  

    “What?” Hyakkimaru glanced reflexively at Jukai. Dororo choked on his soup, giving Jukai a disbelieving look. 

    Hyakkimaru intended to go to Kaga alone. Kaga was a dangerous place; he never expected Jukai to want to come with him.  

    Jukai took a sip of his soup, then set his bowl aside. He smiled. “We don’t have to worry about leaving this place,” he said. “Sakuzō  will be arriving soon with food and supplies.” 

    It was winter, so the fighting in the province was at a standstill. The Hokuriku Road was thick with snow, so generals couldn’t move their armies around. Hyakkimaru also couldn’t travel until spring, after some of the snow melted.  

    Hyakkimaru stared into his sake bowl. He didn’t want Jukai to put himself in needless danger, but he also knew that Jukai was difficult to dissuade once he’d made up his mind. He had been there from the beginning of Hyakkimaru’s life and understood his reasons for hating Daigo Kagemitsu better than anyone else. Jukai was determined to be there when Hyakkimaru finally confronted his birth father.  

    The next morning was bright and sunny. Cold wind blew wispy clouds across a sky as gray as shale. The mountains surrounded the valley, jutting into the clouds.  

    Dororo set up snow forts on either side of the yard and started a snowball fight with the children. Jukai and Hyakkimaru sat a little to the side, watching.  

    “We’ll leave in April,” Jukai said. 

    “What about Dororo?” Hyakkimaru asked. 

    “Even if we told him not to come, do you think he would listen?” 

    “But...” 

    Dororo was laughing and playing with the children, much as Mio had done. 

    “You know I’m right,” Jukai said. “Dororo has weapons, and he’s more useful than most adults. He always helps you. Let him come.” 

    Hyakkimaru nodded in assent; he had no other choice. Hyakkimaru had told Jukai about Dororo’s life-saving rescue in Hino Village after Hyakkimaru had been attacked by a yōkai in the shape of a giant gypsy moth. He had also gotten Hyakkimaru into Ichijōdani at great personal risk to himself. Where Hyakkimaru went, Dororo followed, like an extension of Hyakkimaru’s own body.  

    Jukai had already sent Sakuzō  a detailed letter about everything that had happened over the past few months. He’d sent a copy of the same letter to Genkai Namitarō, a prominent pirate captain operating out of the port at Karatsu.  Namitarō  and Jukai were childhood friends. Jukai was hoping to secure passage to Kaga for himself, Hyakkimaru and Dororo on Namitarō’s ship. Namitarō  also traded in weapons and explosives, so traveling with him would allow Jukai and Hyakkimaru to replenish their supplies of gunpowder and bombs. 

    Going to Kaga with Namitarō would be ideal, but there was no guarantee that Namitarō  would agree to take them, at least not for a while. If he was still sailing in the lands to the south, he might not make it back to Japan before summer. Jukai’s letter communicated his request; he was in no position to give Namitarō  orders even if he wanted to. 

    As always, Hyakkimaru was impressed by Jukai’s foresight and consideration. He was getting on in years, but he was still as sharp as a tack and had a strong will to achieve his own goals. Hyakkimaru was happy that their goals aligned so often.  

    With Jukai and Dororo with him, Hyakkimaru didn’t think there was any challenge that they couldn’t handle. The Hall of Hell demons were Hyakkimaru’s enemies, but they weren’t only Hyakkimaru’s enemies. Dororo and Jukai were determined to oppose them as well. He wasn’t alone in this fight.  

    Jukai sat still and reminisced about past winters and past springs. He had picked up Hyakkimaru in autumn nineteen years ago. Hyakkimaru had lacked arms and legs and eyes and ears--lacked everything. His birth father, Daigo Kagemitsu, had sacrificed Hyakkimaru’s body parts to forty-eight demons in exchange for advancing his own ambitions.  Kagemitsu’s goal was to conquer the world, and for that, he would have given up anything.  

    The world was at war. The balance of power was shifting in many places; lower-ranking samurai killed or deposed their masters and seized power for themselves. Family ties had little or no meaning: wives and husbands betrayed one another as easily as parents and children or sisters and brothers. It was every man for themselves. In some ways, Jukai understood this philosophy. It was difficult to survive in the world as it was.  

    But Jukai didn’t understand the violence that tore families apart. While the world was full of military commanders like Daigo Kagemitsu, who were out to make their marks on the world, there were also many men who killed their brothers or fathers, cousins or sons, to advance their own personal position.    

    Daigo Kagemitsu was not Hyakkimaru’s only problem. He would have to travel through lands at war. He would encounter mad and desperate people who lashed out with violent rage, even against innocent bystanders. And as bad as things were now, Jukai feared that they would only get worse.  

    The source of all this growing unrest was the Hall of Hell demons. They had been released into the world nineteen years ago, sowing discord and making the world a terrible place. The only way to get rid of them was to find and pierce their core, which could only be done with psychokinesis. Hyakkimaru was the only one who could kill them and seal them away again. The demons had attacked Hyakkimaru to prevent that from happening. Psychokinesis was incredibly rare; the demons wanted to eradicate it from this world completely. The demons had attacked Jukai as well, since he had unlocked Hyakkimaru’s psychokinetic potential. It was reasonable to assume that psychokinesis was a legitimate threat to the demons.  

    That also meant that Hyakkimaru wasn’t the only natural enemy of the demons. Jukai and Hōichi, a monk with inborn psychokinesis, were their enemies, too.   

 

***

 

At the beginning of March, Sakuzo and his son-in-law Kiyoji brought two horse-drawn carts to the temple. Dororo was the first one to notice them on the mountain path.

    "Uncle Sakuz ō !"

    "Ah, Dororo! How've you been?"

    "Everyone's been waiting for you for ages," Dororo said.

    "I see." Sakuzo's eyes crinkled at the corners. "I brought presents for everyone." 

    Dororo had missed Sakuzō a lot. His voice reminded him of the time he and Hyakkimaru had lived on Mount Kurama, which seemed like such a long time ago now. 

    The other children heard Dororo and Sakuzō talking outside and gathered on the path. Hyakkimaru and Jukai were right behind them.  

    Sakuzō knew everything that Hyakkimaru had done in the past year thanks to Jukai’s letter. Seeing Hyakkimaru safe, well, and strangely grown-up eased Sakuzō’s mind regarding some of the terrifying things he’d read about demons and battles in the letter. He looked Hyakkimaru up and down, then called out, “I prayed at Kurama Temple every day for you to be safe!” He climbed down from his cart. 

    “Thank you, uncle Sakuzō,” Hyakkimaru said. “I’ve made it this far thanks to everyone’s help.” His eyes were wet. Jukai was the father who had saved his life and taught him to function; Sakuzō was the father who had taught him about kindness, compassion and the gods. They were both his parents; Hyakkimaru couldn’t imagine his life without them. 

    Traveling through the snow with the carts had been extremely difficult. Jukai praised Sakuzō and Kiyoji for making it all the way here with their cargo intact. “I never doubted you,” Jukai said, “but it must have been hard.” 

    Sakuzō folded his arms. “When have I ever failed at a task, taifu?”1 

    The two carts were loaded with nuts, spices, staple foods like rice and various kinds of alcohol, some for drinking and some for disinfecting wounds. Sakuzō had packed all of Jukai’s favorites. The medicinal ingredients that Jukai had requested were also packed in with the food supplies. Parchment, cloth, ink, and padded winter clothes for the children were in Kiyoji’s wagon. Preparing so much had cost quite a lot of money, since Sakuzō was essentially relocating from Mount Kurama to a temporary estate. 

    Sakuzō had bought toys for the children during the journey: handballs, marbles, shogi sets, and dolls. The children laughed in delight when they discovered their presents while helping to unload the wagons. There were also kitchen supplies: pots and pans, candles, containers for storage, and paper lanterns. At Jukai’s instruction, Sakuzō had also brought all of the saltpeter that he’d stored at the estate on Mount Kurama. 

    That night, Jukai and Hyakkimaru prepared a feast to celebrate Sakuzō’s safe arrival. The children were dressed in their new warm winter clothes. Their cheeks shone like red apples in the light of the kitchen fire. 

    In the middle of the night, the wind grew stronger. Hyakkimaru was sleeping near Sakuzō.  There was a time when Hyakkimaru hadn’t been able to sleep without Sakuzō in the room with him. They'd stayed up looking at the ceiling in his room in the darkness. Sakuzō had taken Hyakkimaru out onto Mount Kurama in a hand cart and had gone to Kurama Temple every day to pray. They’d rarely been apart until Hyakkimaru left for Kyōto. 

    But now, Hyakkimaru would have to leave Sakuzō again. He had to go to Kaga Province, and Sakuzō couldn’t go. One of his leg was artificial, and someone needed to stay at the temple with the children. 

    “Sakuzō?” Hyakkimaru whispered. 

    “Yes?” Sakuzō whispered back. 

    Hyakkimaru didn’t know what to say. “Take good care of yourself,” he said. “Promise me.” 

    “Don’t talk like this is the last time we’ll see each other.” He sounded pained. 

    After a brief silence, Hyakkimaru said, “I fell in love with someone. A girl.” 

    “What?” Sakuzō’s eyes widened in the darkness. He couldn’t believe his ears, but at the same time, he was keenly interested. “Who is she? What’s she like?” 

    “She’s…very kind. I’m…kind of hopeless over her, to be honest.” 

    Sakuzō grinned. “Well, that’s only normal when you fall in love for the first time. You’ve really grown up.” He paused, then asked brightly, “Where is she?” 

    “In the sky.” 

    “The sky?” 

    “I saw her at Manjushri’s side on Mount Monju.” 

    “What?” Sakuzō had no idea what Hyakkimaru was trying to say. 

    “Her name is Mio,” Hyakkimaru said. “She lived here in this temple and took care of the children.” 

    “What happened to her?” Sakuzō asked. 

    “Yōkai attacked the temple,” Hyakkimaru said. “I couldn’t protect her. I’ll regret it forever.” 

    Sakuzō tried to imagine Mio and Hyakkimaru taking care of the children together. He hated the demons for taking away a person so kind and blameless from this world—a person Hyakkimaru loved. 

    “So they killed her,” Sakuzō breathed. “Because she was important to you. That’s awful.” 

    “She’s dead, but she’s not gone,” Hyakkimaru said. “The demons couldn’t send her spirit away. It’s in the sky, watching over me.” 

    Sakuzō was near tears. “I’d like to visit her grave.” 

    Hyakkimaru was touched by Sakuzō’s consideration, though he wasn’t surprised by it. 

    “What do you think of naming this temple after her?” 

    “That’s a good idea.” Hyakkimaru smiled. “'Mio’s Temple.' We can name it that. I’m sure Mio would like it.” 

    “Mio’s Temple,” Sakuzō repeated. “When the snow melts, Kiyoji and I will get to work rebuilding it and fixing it up. The poor children are like you were, in need of care. I’ll raise them, just like I raised you. I won’t have any more children of my own, but you might. It keeps me young, thinking about how children will be when they grow up.” He laughed. 

    The next morning, Hyakkimaru guided Sakuzō to the Flower Hill where Mio was buried. It was a cold, crisp morning; the outlines of Mount Hino were etched in the pure blue of the sky. The reflection of the sunlight on the snow over Mio’s grave was dazzlingly bright. 

    Sakuzō approached the grave and bowed his head. He prayed for a long time. Since Hyakkimaru loved her, Sakuzō considered Mio to be one of his own daughters. 

    It was hard to believe that it was still winter as Sakuzō and Hyakkimaru stood together in the warm light of the sun. The Flower Hill commanded a good view of the surrounding area, which was silver-white; the summit of Mount Hino glittered in the sunshine. Everything was peaceful and still. Sakuzō believed that this place was a good home for a compassionate goddess.  

    Hyakkimaru would soon have to travel beyond Mount Hino into the wide world. Sakuzō doubted the journey would be peaceful. The world outside this place was soaked in blood. Still, Sakuzō understood why he had to leave. He had to learn how and why he’d been cursed, for his own sake—and for Mio’s. It was likely that Hyakkimaru would have to kill people as well as demons to get the answers he sought. 

    What would happen when Hyakkimaru finally met Daigo Kagemitsu face-to-face? Would he simply kill him out of hatred? Would he cut off all four of Daigo’s limbs to make his father the same as he’d been at birth, watching him writhe on the ground like a worm?  

    Even Hyakkimaru didn’t know what he would do. Killing one’s own parents was a heinous, despicable act—and he had never met either one of them. He had reasons to hate his father based on what the demons had revealed, but no child ever wanted to kill their parents. What Hyakkimaru wanted was answers more than bloodshed. He wouldn’t stop searching for Daigo Kagemitsu; he couldn’t. He was like a moth drawn to the flame of fate. All he could do was hope was that his obsession to find his birth father didn’t consume him in the end. 

    Sakuzō stared down at Mio’s grave. “I’m sure she would have wanted you to stay,” he said softly. “She didn’t want to die.” He faced Hyakkimaru. “You must live,” he said. “No matter what. Go to Kaga, but come back here alive. Your life is a precious thing. Don’t be reckless with it.” Tears trailed down his cheeks into the snow. 

    Hyakkimaru held Sakuzō’s gaze and said nothing. 


***


      The Togashi Clan was said to be an offshoot of Kaga Province’s Ishikawa Clan. Togashi Takaie served under Ashikaga Takauji to pacify Kaga Province in the 1330s; he was permitted to govern it as a reward. Togashi Chakuryū  lost his family’s previous standing, but Togashi Mitsuharu was able to gain the favor of the shōgun,  Ashikaga Yoshimochi. He regained the right to govern Kaga Province . After his death, his younger brother Togashi Norie inherited his position. 

    However, in 1458, a chunk of northern Kaga Province was removed from Togashi Clan control and granted to Akamatsu Masanori. The northern part had been governed by Togashi Shigeharu until that time. The southern part of the province was no longer governed by Norie, but  by  his younger brother Yasutaka. Yasutaka was selected as the new governor because of his strong support of Hosokawa Katsumoto, the shōgun’s deputy and the future leading general of the Eastern Army.  

    In 1462, Togashi Shigeharu passed away. Yasutaka retired, granting his position to Togashi Masachika, who became the head of the Togashi Clan. Masachika was just twelve years old at the time. He governed southern Kaga Province peacefully for a few years before the start of the Ōnin War, when he put his support behind Hosokawa Katsumoto and the Eastern Army. The northern part of the province governed by Akamatsu Masanori supported the Eastern Army as well, but  Masanori left his position as governor of Kaga to become governor of Harima Province, leaving Togashi Masachika to rule Kaga Province alone. 

    Kaga Province supported the Eastern Army, but it shared borders with Noto Province and Ezichen Province, which supported the Western Army.  Kaga was threatened by enemies on two sides. There was also a contested claim for the northern part of the province by the Asakura Clan in Ezichen Province. Masachika's brother Yukichiyo threw his support behind the Asakura Clan and the Western Army, so he and Masachika were soon at odds over who would control Kaga. It was yet another example of family betraying family during these turbulent times.


***


    There had been no contact from Genkai Namitarō over winter. It seemed that he hadn’t received Jukai’s letter.  

    One night, Jukai called Dororo over to him. Dororo approached sulkily, irritated at being interrupted while playing. He suspected that Jukai was planning something. 

    “Listen carefully, Dororo,” Jukai said.  

    “I already know what you’re gonna say.” Dororo frowned. 

    “Oh? And what’s that?” 

    “You want me to stay behind and take care of the kids, but I won’t.” 

    Jukai shook his head. “No, no. You’re coming with us to Kaga, don’t worry.” 

    “Really, taifu? Do you mean it?” Dororo’s eyes shone. He spoke much more politely now than he typically did. Perhaps Hyakkimaru’s influence was rubbing off on him. 

    “Have I ever lied to you?” Jukai asked. 

    “Ah! Thank you so much!” Dororo prostrated himself before Jukai on the floor in a grandiose display. 

    Jukai’s eyes took on a hard cast. “I asked you to listen,” he said. “We need to get ready for our journey. That means we need your help, too. No slacking off.” 

    “Of course I won’t.” Dororo was looking at Jukai like a religious disciple praying before an altar. “I’ll prepare better than anyone you’ve ever seen, and I’ll work hard.” 

    Dororo had not been raised among samurai, but he was beginning to speak like one. Dororo had faced down demons in battle at Hyakkimaru’s side. He was always determined to be useful.  

    “You have to make more bamboo darts,” Jukai said. “A lot of them.” 

    “That’s it? Consider it done.” Dororo’s darts weren’t as good as Namitarō’s bombs, but they were not to be underestimated. 

 

Translator's Note



1
Taifu is a Chinese title meaning "honored doctor."  Dororo also calls Jukai taifu occasionally.

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