"Dear."
The one who called me was Kicho.
She was walking slowly toward me along the path between the paddies. The sleeves of her work clothes tucked up, a tray in her hands with a steaming bowl on it.
No gorgeous outer robe, no glittering hairpins. Sun-browned cheeks. Hands dirty with soil.
And still, to me, she looked far, far more beautiful than on that day, the night of our wedding, when I first saw her.
"Working hard, I see," Kicho said, smiling.
"Do take a rest. I've brought you some tea."
I stood up and walked over to Kicho's side.
—The old me could never have imagined this.
I was scared of people, couldn't get close to anyone.
I was scared of women, played the fool and kept people away.
I longed for the touch of another person, and the sumo ring was the one and only place I could touch anyone.
In the ring, bare, with no blades. Just wanting to feel another person's warmth, I kept gathering wrestlers.
A man as lonely as that.
Can now take Kicho's hand as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
I gently took the bowl from Kicho's soil-stained hands.
As I did, the fingertips that touched mine were warm.
Just that, only that, seemed to me far more precious than taking the realm.
Sipping my tea, I suddenly remembered and said.
"By the way."
"Yes?"
"There was another letter from Nobutada, wasn't there."
My son is alive too. He, who was taken for dead, fallen at Nijo Castle, has changed his name now. Somewhere in a faraway province, he's getting along well, it seems.
"Yes. Over beyond the mountains. He says the rice ripened nicely this year."
"Is that so."
"Father and son both farmers. The ancestors of the Oda must be grieving terribly."
Kicho smiled mischievously.
I smiled too.
Let them grieve.
The bloodline of the Demon King of the Sixth Heaven, gripping hoes and laughing.
There's no better ending than this.
The sun was getting low. The mountains beyond the paddies were dyed with sunset.
"Well," Kicho said, getting up.
"Let's head back soon. The sun is going down."
I handed back the empty bowl, and then, naturally, took Kicho's hand.
"Kicho."
"Yes?"
"What's for dinner today?"
Kicho looked at me, and then laughed softly.
"Hmm. Now, what could it be?"
The two of us, hand in hand, walked along the sunset path between the paddies toward our little house. A warm wind pushed at our backs.
Nobunaga's Ambition.
The world believes it means an endless ambition for unification of the realm.
But.
The one and only ambition of the greatest coward of the warring age was this.
To be afraid of no one.
With the one he loved.
To till a field in the countryside.
To eat.
To sleep.
That small wish, only that, was now at last, quietly, coming true.