After the incense incident, my reputation hit the ground. No—it had been on the ground to begin with, so it'd be more accurate to say it dug its way even further down below the ground.
"The Oda house is finished."
"With a Great Fool like that at its head, the household will fall to pieces."
Voices like these were whispered all over the castle, no longer even trying to hide.
One by one, my retainers began to look away from me.
And in the middle of all that, there was just one person who didn't give up on me.
Hirate Masahide.
The old retainer who'd served as my guardian since before I could remember.
"My lord."
That day too, Masahide sat before me, his white head bowed.
"Once again, unwelcome rumors abound in the town. Your conduct at the funeral... it pains this old retainer's heart."
Here it comes. Masahide's lecture.
Whenever he has a spare moment, this old man sits down in front of me and lectures me. Stop dressing so outlandishly, stop eating on your feet, don't spend all your time wrestling sumo, behave more like the head of a house. Honestly, he's a nuisance.
There are good reasons for my bizarre behavior. Because I'm afraid of people, afraid of women, afraid of assassins, I play "the fool" on purpose to keep people away. But there's no way I could tell this old man that.
"My lord. I beg of you. Please, become a head of house like other men. If only you knew how deeply our late lord worried over what would become of you."
"...I know. Leave me."
I pushed him away, as always.
Masahide bowed his head once more, sadly, and withdrew.
But.
After the door closed, I let out a breath. A nuisance. He really is a nuisance.
And yet.
When I think about it, it's a strange thing. There's no one left in the castle who scolds me in earnest anymore. They've all given up on me. Thrown up their hands—whatever they say, it's no use.
And still, this old man alone keeps sitting down in front of me. Knowing it's no use, he still sits.
That's—
That's probably because this old man is the only one who hasn't given up on me yet.
That night, I let it slip to Kicho.
"Old Masahide's the only one who won't give up on me."
Kicho stopped her mending and looked at me.
"Everyone's given up on me. Of course they have. I'm a fool, after all. But that old man still comes to scold me. ...He's a nuisance. He's a nuisance, but—"
I hugged my knees.
"I think that old man's on my side. Probably the only one in the whole castle."
Kicho looked at me for a while.
And then she said quietly:
"Then, my lord. Why not tell that man the truth, just once, even a little of it? That you are only playing the fool."
I shook my head.
"...I can't. I'm scared. What if I tell him, and then even that old man despises me? If even that old man gives up on me—then I really will be all alone."
That was what scared me.
So I never told Masahide, of all people, the truth, and just kept pushing him away.
With an annoyed face, saying, Leave me.
Even though I knew he was on my side.
Then, some time after that.
It suddenly struck me. Lately, something was wrong with Masahide.
He still lectured me, the same as ever. But his face was paler than ever. A shadow had fallen over it, as if he'd been brooding over something. When we passed in the corridor, his back looked terribly small.
"Old man."
I tried to call him back.
But Masahide bowed deeply and walked away without a word.
For some reason, the sight of his back stuck in my chest.
Stuck there.
And I tried to tell myself it was just my imagination.
I tried to.