The cherry blossoms had finished their dance, and the season was turning toward early summer.

  It was May of the tenth year of Tensho (1582).

  A report arrived for Kanbe’e from a Ninja stationed in Kyoto. Fujitaka Hosokawa, having completed the Koshu Conquest, had returned to his domain at Tanabe Castle in Tango.

  This was the news Kanbe’e had been waiting for.

  He immediately informed Hideyoshi that he was heading to the capital to gather intelligence. Granting himself a brief leave of absence, he spurred his horse from Bitchu.

  Kanbe’e’s detour through Kyoto was no mere transit. He intended to feel the "wind" of the capital where the Demon King, Nobunaga, resided, and to directly extract information from the network of agents he had embedded there.

  The leg he had nearly lost in the dungeon of Arioka Castle still throbbed with a persistent ache. As he dismounted and walked with a cane, he appeared to all the world as a "crippled man unfit for battle." This frailty was his finest camouflage, concealing a treasonous will that sought to strike down the Demon King.

  In the courtyard of a secluded temple, Kanbe’e dismounted and stood upon the jagged flagstones. He struck his ebony cane firmly once against the ground—a silent query to the shadows lurking around him.

  No sound returned. Yet, in the moment of silence as Kanbe’e closed his eyes, a hidden operative appeared soundlessly and whispered at his ear in a breath barely audible.

  "Mr. Fujitaka certainly entered Miyazu Castle last night."

  Kanbe’e’s expression remained unchanged; he simply gave a single, deep nod.

  The accuracy of his intelligence was absolute. He had stopped in Kyoto only to finalize the verification and to check for any flickers of instability surrounding Nobunaga.

  "Report every detail regarding the coordination between Mitsuhide and Fujitaka."

  Before he had finished the command, the presence behind him had already vanished.

  Kanbe’e remounted and headed north along the highway toward Tango.

  The claim that his destination was "Kyoto" had been nothing but a cloak to divert the eyes of Hideyoshi and Oda's watchers. His true objective was to bring Fujitaka Hosokawa—the most reliable "brain" in this turning point of the chaotic era—into his own camp.

  Fujitaka was a relative of Mitsuhide and the "Giant of Intellect" in whom Mitsuhide placed his utmost trust. If Fujitaka could be drawn into the blueprint, the heavy door that was Mitsuhide would open with ease. However, the opponent was a world-class scholar. Kanbe’e had to proceed without leaving a shred of physical evidence, pouring a poison called "empathy" directly into the man’s soul.

  Late one night, a shadow slipped into the Fujitaka tea room, where the lamplight had been dimmed to its limit. Kanbe’e’s Ninjas took their positions, instructed to take Fujitaka’s life should any danger befall their master. Simultaneously, they kept watch over the agents sent by other factions.

  An attendant, looking apologetic, called out to the inner room.

  "My Lord, Mr. Kuroda has arrived from Bitchu."

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  Fujitaka Hosokawa looked up from the book in his hand. Though they were old acquaintances, he wondered what business would bring Hashiba’s strategist to his door in the dead of night.

  "Well, well, Kanbe’e... What brings you here at such an hour? Surely the battle in Bitchu is about to begin..."

  Kanbe’e bowed in silence and sat directly across from Fujitaka. Setting his cane aside, he withdrew a bundle from his robes.

  From within emerged a single flower—a "Kuruizaki" (out-of-season bloom)—weakly yet bewitchingly blossomed at the tip of a withered branch.

  Kanbe’e pushed it toward Fujitaka, staring at the flickering lamp as he spoke.

  "Mr. Fujitaka... Does this single bloom look to you like a 'mad flower' that misread the time? Or... does it look as though it exhausts its very life to bloom in order to end the 'old time'?"

  Fujitaka’s gaze sharpened. Kanbe’e’s words were always multi-layered, possessing a peril akin to peering into an abyss. Both men were top-tier intellectuals; a silence heavy with the sensation of searching for the "blades" behind each other’s words filled the room.

  An ancient poem flickered through Fujitaka’s mind:

  Iro mo ka mo / Mukashi no koki ni / Nioedomo / Uwekemu hito no / Kage zo koishiki

  (The color and scent bloom as deeply as of old, yet the figure of the one who must have planted it is nowhere to be found.)

  Wary of the ears of hidden agents, Fujitaka spoke quietly.

  "The Kokin Wakashu says... 'The color and scent bloom as deeply as of old.' But... I cannot continue the poem. While the Great Lord Nobunaga remains in good health, reciting the concluding lines would be deemed ill-omened."

  "Indeed..."

  A bold, defiant smirk flickered across Kanbe’e’s face for an instant before his mouth tightened, and he whispered in a tone that seemed to crawl across the floor.

  "Then we must force the season to advance... If the 'Kikyo' (Bellflower) were to suddenly stain the mountains crimson before the early summer breeze arrived... would you not find that scenery beautiful?"

  The Kikyo was the crest of the Mitsuhide Akechi family. Staining the mountains crimson... it was nothing less than an allusion to a rebellion soaked in blood. Fujitaka felt a shiver run down his spine, as if a pillar of ice had been driven through it. He swallowed hard.

  "The Kikyo... in crimson? T-that is far too dangerous... Kanbe’e, are you prepared to be drenched in the blood of retribution? No—do you intend to shoulder a hell even greater than that?"

  Using the tip of his cane, Kanbe’e drew a sharp line upon the tatami mats. The line started from himself and connected to Fujitaka’s knees.

  "Mr. Fujitaka, do not fret. Lest the Kikyo be drenched in cold dew, we shall immediately spread a 'Great Umbrella from the West' to protect its back... Those who enter beneath this umbrella are promised a 'Seat of Renga' in the new world. This is no delusion of me. It is the silent vow of 'My Lord in the West' (Hideyoshi)."

  Fujitaka stared at the single "line" Kanbe’e had drawn. It was a boundary, and a fuse leading to the execution scaffold. Suppressing his violent palpitations, Fujitaka asked in a strained voice.

  "Kanbe’e... does that umbrella truly protect Mitsuhide from the rain? You would not fold it midway and leave him as a shivering, wet rat...?"

  Kanbe’e wore a smile so inorganic it was terrifying, and leaned his lips toward Fujitaka’s ear. A whisper like a faint breeze, meant for no ears in the rafters or beneath the floorboards.

  "The Hashiba do not betray their 'kin.' I only ask that you deliver that 'voice' of yours to Mr. Mitsuhide... A letter becomes ash when cast into the fire. But your 'voice,' lingering in a friend's ear, will not vanish even in death. Come, Mr. Fujitaka. Will you not deliver the finest 'medicine' to Mr. Mitsuhide, who cringes in fear night after night?"

  The match is decided—just as Kanbe’e felt this certainty, an answer like a splash of freezing water came back to him.

  "Kanbe’e... I am sorry, but I cannot accept that invitation."

  At the sound of Fujitaka’s voice, the Ninjas surrounding the tea room soundlessly bristled with murderous intent.

  "If I were to give Mitsuhide such medicine, it would not be a cure, but a lethal poison that casts him into hell. Kanbe’e, do you truly intend to protect him after he rises? There is the matter of the Shikoku incident... Mr. Hideyoshi has just bolstered Yasunaga Miyoshi and humiliated Mitsuhide. Do you intend to let him set the fire, only to pretend to extinguish it while you swallow everything for yourselves?"

  Fujitaka’s eyes shone with a sharpness that seemed to see through everything. Truly, he was a "Giant of Intellect." In an instant, he had seen the outline of the terrifying conclusion Kanbe’i had drawn: to let Mitsuhide kill his master, and then seize the world by striking down that very Mitsuhide.

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