Murashige　Araki was waiting for Kanbe'e’s heart to waver, while simultaneously praying from the bottom of his soul for Mori reinforcements from the west.

  Originally, the plan was for the Mori to send aid immediately after Araki took up arms, annihilating the Oda forces in one fell swoop.

  However, all that arrived were occasional letters stating, "Preparation is taking time; please wait a little longer."

  Arioka Castle was under siege. The garrison was barely surviving on their stockpiled provisions, their necks craned in anticipation of the Mori reinforcements. Both sides were locked in a stalemate, and with each passing day, Murashige’s irritation grew.

  No matter how long he waited, no news of the reinforcements came... Around this time, Murashige’s mental state began to fracture.

  It was about two months after the confinement began. In the biting cold of December, Murashige Araki came to Kanbe'e’s dungeon. His eyes, fixed upon the man he had imprisoned, bore a trace of unnatural mercy.

  "Lord Kanbe'e, I have news..."

  Murashige's voice was laced with an ominous, quiet pity.

  "The truth is..."

  There was a moment of silence.

  "Shojumaru... has been executed."

  Time stopped. Sound vanished from the world.

  Only Murashige's words echoed within Kanbe'e’s mind.

  (Shojumaru has been executed... Shojumaru has been executed... Shojumaru...)

  An impact, as if his heart had been crushed by a bare hand, surged through him, and the blood drained from his entire body. His eyes, widened so far they seemed ready to burst, harbored an unnatural heat.

  "Sh... Sho... Shoju... Shoju is!?"

  Kanbe'e clung to the cage. He did not notice his fingernails peeling or the blood staining the iron bars.

  "It’s a lie... Murashige... tell me it’s a lie..."

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  "Kanbe'e, Nobunaga is indeed a demon in human skin. To see him abandon a loyal retainer like you in this way... I cannot help but pity you. Is it not enough? Recant your loyalty to the Oda and join me. Let us strike back at that demon together."

  Kanbe'e heard nothing.

  "Ah... ah, aaah..."

  From his parched body, tears, mucus, and saliva overflowed in a thick slurry.

  "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGHH!!"

  It was not a scream; it was the death throes of a soul. Sobs that seemed to heave up his very internal organs made his emaciated body bounce repeatedly.

  Witnessing that staggering despair, Murashige Araki lost his words and departed.

  Kato Matazemon, standing nearby, could only look upon Kanbe'e with eyes of pity, despite being his enemy. As a father of two sons himself, he felt a deep resonance with Kanbe'e's pain, and the emptiness of those living in the Warring States period remained within him.

  From Kanbe'e's withered body, tears, mucus, and saliva—even substances he could no longer identify—poured out. He no longer cared for appearances.

  He continued to lament with a voice that echoed far outside the dungeon—a wordless shriek. His sobbing was so violent it felt as if his bowels might burst forth from his body.

  On this day, the strategist, Kanbe'e Kuroda, died once.

  Never in his life would Kanbe'e’s heart waver as much as it did at this moment. If it were an enemy, it would be one thing—but to have his heir killed by an ally, the very lord to whom he pledged his absolute loyalty...

  (My Lord... why... what have I done to deserve this...)

  Should he join Murashige now and turn this into a battle of mourning for Shojumaru? Or would it be easier to simply bite off his tongue and die?

  Death would be better than this living hell. If I can see Shojumaru again... he began to think.

  From that day on, for several days, Kanbe'e began to see visions of Shojumaru. He could no longer distinguish between dreams and reality.

  Matazemon Kato occasionally peered into the dungeon to check on Kanbe'e. Kanbe'e did not even notice; he was frequently seen struggling in his delirium.

  "Sho... ju... Sho... ju..."

  He was surely dreaming of Shojumaru. Mata'emon pitied the thrashing Kanbe'e, yet he felt a strange envy for the samurai's resolve in not recanting, and the world of loyalty shared by Zensuke and the others surrounding him.

  (Does he still refuse to discard his pride, even after being burdened with such tragedy? Or has he already lost even his pride, leaving only a hollow soul behind?)

  Three days later, Fuji came to see Kanbe'e with a meager portion of permitted porridge and a change of clothes.

  Kanbe'e slowly looked up at Fuji, but immediately closed his eyes. Beneath his reclining face, a pool of ceaselessly overflowing tears had gathered.

  Fuji understood that he had been lying there, weeping without moving, for three full days.

  "Lord Kanbe'e... please... what has happened?"

  "My... precious... Shoju... has been executed... by My Lord..."

  Fuji dropped the clothes she was holding. Rather than picking them up, she rushed to Kanbe'e’s side.

  "Oh... how could this be... Shojumaru... How cruel... how utterly cruel..."

  Fuji also wept. She wept alongside him, her heart leaning against his. Kanbe'e, staring up at the filthy, low ceiling, questioned her.

  "Fuji... even so... does your God... tell me... to love My Lord... To love the man... who took my child’s life... and trampled my heart... so mercilessly... does He tell me to love him...?"

  The voice he squeezed out surpassed even anger; it was like a cold wind wandering through a void.

  "Yes... no... Lord Kanbe'e..."

  Fuji could say nothing now. She only stayed close to Kanbe'e, warming his chilled hands with her own body heat, weeping with him.

  Strategic brilliance, manly pride—all had vanished into dust.

  Produced and written by a Japanese author, rooted in authentic Japanese history. Translated with the assistance of Gemini (AI).