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墨書 Inktalez
Almost all historical records mention that on the morning of June 2nd in the tenth year of Tenchō (1582), the sky was clear and blue.
On that day, Shichiba from Kyoto Shichijo Village woke up very early—he hardly slept at all.
It was the time for the final fertilization of the melons in the fields.
Only after this round of fertilization could the melons grow juicy and sweet.
He had been fretting about this all night, tossing and turning in bed, feeling as though there was some commotion in the melon fields outside.
Indeed, although the melons were not yet fully ripe, some were already close to being ready for harvest.
Thus, almost every child in the village was restless with anticipation.
Around three or four in the morning, Shichiba nudged his wife awake: “Listen, someone is stealing melons outside; there’s a constant rustling sound.”
His wife turned over irritably, clutching their child: “Stop making a fuss; it’s just raining outside.”
Peering through the fence window, Shichiba looked at the sky.
The June sunlight arrived early; the sky was already lightening, heralding a fine day ahead.
Unable to sleep any longer, he got up, dressed, grabbed a rake used for farming, and opened the door, only to be stunned by what lay before him.
In front of his house was a strange army marching. The soldiers bore no insignia and wore pitch-black armor, moving silently in a jog.
The horse ridden by their leader bore no emblem; its mouth was stuffed with a stick, and its hooves were wrapped in cloth.
Shichiba was so frightened that he quickly knelt down. As a lowly peasant in Japanese society, he dared not meet the eyes of those adults. All he could hear was the dull thud of hooves as several riders approached him.
Two men dismounted and stood behind him while others entered his home.
“Do not be afraid; lift your head,” came a gentle yet firm voice from atop one of the horses.
Shichiba dared not raise his head, trembling in fear as he lay in the mud, wishing he could bury his face in the ground.
A child in the room cried out, likely frightened by the soldiers.
However, the sound quickly ceased, probably muffled by Wife's hand over the child's mouth.
"Lift your head and tell me where the nearest temple is," came a voice, tinged with impatience.
Shichiba slowly raised his head but did not dare to lift it too high, fearing that his gaze might tarnish the dignity of the general on horseback. He slightly tilted his head and pointed with a finger toward the northwest. "The temple is over there!"
Suddenly, he let out a blood-curdling scream, as if he had seen something terrifying.
Panicking, he leaned back and crawled frantically on the ground, trying to retreat into the house.
The soldiers behind him quickly pinned him down.
Despite this, he continued to scream, "A dragon! The dragon's head has appeared!"
Indeed, in the clear sky, a dragon's head suddenly emerged, hovering ominously in the direction of the temple.
The dragon's head in the sky was as large as a cow's head, its eyes blazing with intensity, seemingly ready to swoop down at any moment.
"Dragon! Sir! We must light a fire immediately. Only a great fire can drive the dragon away. Otherwise, if it swoops down, we will all perish!" Shichiba cried out desperately, disregarding his status.
The general on horseback gazed at the dragon's head in the sky and murmured after a long pause, "So to drive away a dragon, one needs a great fire."
Perhaps he made some gesture that Shichiba did not see; all he felt was the soldiers dragging him up and forcing him to kneel on the ground.
Then came a rush of wind—red blood splattered from Shichiba's neck.
He had heard from the elders in his village that if one's head were severed quickly enough, that person would not feel pain; even a decapitated body might take a few steps before collapsing.
The severed head could still blink, but it could not speak.
"I must be dead," Shichiba thought to himself. A lowly farmer like him, committing such a disrespectful act against a noble, was surely destined for execution.
He had heard that even if one were to accidentally cross paths with a samurai's sword while walking down the street, they would be put to death.
"But, my lord, we must not underestimate that dragon head in the sky. We need to ignite a great fire to drive it away. Otherwise, if the dragon becomes enraged, we will all perish without a grave."
Shichiba's eyes were gone, and he vaguely heard his wife being dragged out, crying, while their child screamed and clung to her leg.
A gust of wind swept through.
The cries ceased; both kinds of weeping came to an end.
"Leave the body here," commanded the general on horseback. "Remove everything wrapped around the horses' hooves. Soldiers, take off your straw sandals and switch to proper footwear. Iron Gunner, cut the match cord to one and a half feet long and light both ends. Be ready for battle at any moment!"
The general's voice grew increasingly fervent, as if rallying his troops before battle: "From this day forth, His Highness shall become the ruler of all under heaven. Even those as lowly as Ti Xie should rejoice and show their utmost loyalty and courage.
We soldiers have two objectives; today is our chance to establish our martial achievements. Speak now if you have any wishes. Those with brothers or heirs need not worry about leaving their estates without an heir; those without brothers or heirs may choose a close relative to inherit their property. The rewards given will depend on the depth of loyalty shown!"
Finally, he pointed into the distance: "Advance! The enemy is at Honnō-ji!"
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