"It's set... The stone is holding back the water...!"
The villagers stood before the embankment, speechless.
From a hill overlooking the valley, I stood with my arms crossed, gazing at the finished weir.
An embankment of burned lime, kneaded together with earth and gravel, poured into wooden frames and left to harden. What my past life would have called concrete.
Even when the muddy torrents of the rainy season surged against it, it didn't budge an inch. What's more, just as I had calculated, it let the water escape into the retarding basin and filled the valley's reservoir to the brim.
"Lord Shinpachiro! The river's carrying water to the paddies! All of them, right up to the top terrace!"
Sayo came running up the hill, her face smeared with mud.
I nodded.
"I dug channels so the water reaches even the high ground. Now we won't be at the mercy of whether it rains a lot or a little."
Until last year, this had been a valley where the paddies were washed away when it rained and dried up when it didn't.
Now that water was entirely under the control of human hands.
This was the power of civil engineering.
"But water alone won't make the rice bear fruit. Next is the soil."
I pointed to one corner of the paddies. Planted there was not rice, but seedlings of an unfamiliar bean.
"Chinese milk vetch and soybeans. They store nourishment in their roots. Plow them into the soil, and barren land grows rich. And another thing—"
I took a small pouch from inside my robe. In it was seed rice I had selected with great care.
"We choose seed from the plants that bear the best, and every year we keep only the best. We'll raise rice that's hardy against the cold and won't topple easily, suited to this valley's soil."
Crop breeding. Work I had done at the agricultural cooperative in my past life until I was sick of it.
It doesn't change in a single year. But build on it for two years, three years, and the harvest transforms.
"And then there's manure. Don't throw away your night soil. Mix it with straw and fallen leaves and let it sit, and it makes first-rate fertilizer. It only stinks at first."
The villagers grimaced, but I went on regardless.
"Once the rice comes in, that stink will turn into the scent of gold. I'll show you."
"Sayo. Gather the village women. I'll teach them how to sort the seed rice."
"Yes!"
There was no hesitation left in Sayo's reply.
Two years passed.
The valley was unrecognizable.
The terraced paddies, neatly laid out, were covered in golden ears of rice. The heads hung heavy, bowing low, rippling like waves each time the wind passed.
"...Over five koku per tan."
Sayo's hands trembled as they gripped the ledger.
"Until last year, a tan gave half a koku at best. And now... it's ten times that."
Not a single villager had starved. Far from it: there was rice to spare, piling up in the storehouses.
Word spread beyond the valley.
One day, a band of men in unfamiliar attire appeared at the entrance to the valley.
The man at their head surveyed the valley from horseback and gave a low grunt.
"So this is the Kasuga Valley everyone's talking about."
Not merchants. His bearing carried an air of authority that was anything but ordinary.
"I'm an envoy of the Oda clan. Lord Nobunaga has taken a keen interest in this valley's rice and its stone embankments."
Tension shot down my spine.
"He told me to go and meet the man who built a golden paradise. —You. What's your name?"
"Shinpachiro Kuroda."
"Kuroda? The House Kuroda that's known for being weak in war?"
I answered quietly.
"My brothers will carry on the family name by arms, and I by rice. That is all."
The envoy studied me for a while, then gave a bold smile.
"Interesting. Lord Nobunaga prefers useful men to strong ones. Remember this. Your name has already reached the whole realm."
After the band had gone, Sayo looked at me, her face pale.
"Lord Shinpachiro... is this a good thing? Or is it—"
I looked out over the valley.
Golden rice, sturdy embankments, a brimming reservoir, and smiling villagers.
The gaunt people who had stood here in a line two years ago, bowed almost to the ground, were nowhere to be seen.
"It's a good thing. No one can ever make us go hungry again."
Just then, another rider on a fast horse came galloping in from outside the valley.
The messenger, barely able to breathe, dropped to his knees and forced out his words.
"I bring word! Lord Shigemori and Lord Masayuki... both have suffered a crushing defeat in the war with the neighboring province! Their provisions are spent, and the castle is under siege—"
I slowly closed my eyes.
What had to come had come.