"Mere likeness" Kan Kikuchi

Lord Matsuyama Shinsuke, ruler of the Settsu region, had a trusted samurai general named Nakamura Shinbei. Shinbei was known far and wide across the five provinces and China as a mighty warrior. At that time, in the Kinai region, the retainers of feudal lords such as Tsutsui, Matsunaga, Araki, Wada, Bessho, and others, both great and small, were likely all familiar with the name “Spear Nakamura.” Such was the reputation Shinbei had earned, repeatedly proving his valor at the forefront of battle with his formidable spear, a massive weapon with a shaft extending nearly ten feet. In addition to his combat prowess, Shinbei’s warrior appearance was nothing short of dazzling on the battlefield. Clad in a fiery red shōjōhi garment, he wore a helmet adorned with a gilded Chinese crown, which made him a radiant figure, admired and feared alike by both friend and foe.

“Ah, that red garment and that Chinese crown,” enemy soldiers would murmur, stepping aside to avoid the deadly point of Shinbei’s spear. Whenever his comrades faltered, Shinbei, like an unyielding rock amidst raging waves, would stand firm against the enemy’s onslaught. His bright red figure was a beacon of hope for his allies. And when he charged into the enemy’s camp like a storm, his brilliant helmet struck terror into the hearts of his enemies. Thus, Shinbei, with his red garment and golden crown, was both the flower of the battlefield and a symbol of dread for his enemies, while providing unshakable reassurance to his comrades.

“Lord Shinbei, I have a special request,” said a young, handsome warrior who had only recently undergone his coming-of-age ceremony. He knelt before Shinbei with humility.

“What is it? There’s no need for such formality between us. Speak your desire without delay,” Shinbei replied with a warm, paternal smile.

The young warrior was, in fact, a son of Matsuyama Shinsuke, Shinbei’s lord, born to one of Shinsuke’s concubines. Since his early childhood, Shinbei had cared for the boy as his guardian, raising him with the love and attention one would give to their own child.

“It’s nothing extraordinary. Tomorrow marks my first battle, and I wish to distinguish myself with a splendid feat of valor. To that end, would you lend me your red garment and Chinese crown helmet? I want to shock the enemy’s eyes, dressed in those magnificent pieces.”

“Hahaha, what a bold request,” Shinbei laughed heartily. He was amused by the boy’s youthful eagerness for glory.

“But let me tell you, those items—the garment and the helmet—are part of who Nakamura Shinbei is. If you wear them, you must possess a spirit as strong as mine, or else they will be wasted on you,” Shinbei said, laughing again, though his words carried the weight of experience.

The next day, on a plain in Settsu, the Matsuyama forces clashed with the army of Tsutsui Junkei from Yamato. Before the battle began, as was his custom, a warrior clad in red, with a shining crown helmet gleaming in the morning sun, paraded boldly before the enemy, turning heads in their ranks. Then, with a sudden command, the warrior urged his horse forward, charging directly into the enemy’s camp. The red figure cut through the enemy lines like a gale, striking down three or four soldiers in swift succession before leisurely retreating to his own camp.

That day, however, Nakamura Shinbei himself wore black armor and a South Sea iron helmet. As he watched the red-clad warrior’s boldness from a distance, a smile of deep satisfaction crept onto his face. He took great pride in knowing that even his mere likeness could inspire such strength. The fact that his appearance alone had the power to sway the battle filled him with a profound sense of accomplishment.

But when the time came for the second charge, Shinbei decided it was his turn. He spurred his horse forward, charging headlong into the enemy camp. Before the red warrior, the enemy had fled without putting up much of a fight. But now, before Nakamura Shinbei, they stood their ground, fueled by a desire for revenge against the man they had previously feared. Their rage, ignited by the humiliation of their earlier defeat, was now aimed squarely at the black-armored figure of Shinbei.

Something felt different to Shinbei. The usual fear in the eyes of his opponents, like lambs facing a tiger, was absent. Normally, they would falter and be easily struck down, but today, they fought with a ferocity and courage that was unsettling. Each soldier seemed to summon their full strength to confront Shinbei, and even felling two or three of them required all his effort. More than once, the tip of an enemy spear grazed his body. Shinbei fought desperately, exerting twice his usual strength, but he was close to being overpowered. The fleeting thought crossed his mind that perhaps it had been a mistake to so easily lend out his emblematic garments.

It was in that very moment, as such thoughts flickered through his mind, that an enemy spear found its mark, piercing through the gaps in his armor and striking deep into his side.