Heikyoku: The Tale of the Heike

After returning to the Uchiha compound from the Hokage Building, Izuna wasted no time. He straightened his clothes, took the sheet music, picked up his biwa, and headed for the house where Matsuda Hōshi was staying.

Matsuda Hōshi was deeply gratified by how diligently Izuna studied and how respectful and humble he remained.

He gathered his energy and continued teaching the basics of Heikyoku.

He began with the opening passage of its most classic work, The Tale of the Heike.

"The bells of Gion Monastery ring, telling of the impermanence of all things..." Matsuda Hōshi chanted in a voice aged yet rich with expression. His fingers plucked a low, mournful melody from the biwa as he told of the Taira clan's rise to glory and fall.

Izuna listened intently, his fingers unconsciously moving over imaginary strings as he committed the melody and lyrics to memory.

But as he listened, his brow furrowed.

Why is this story... so much like what my teacher taught us in the history elective in my previous life, about the Taira and Minamoto struggling for supremacy at the end of the Japanese Heian period?

Taira no Kiyomori's power over the imperial court, Taira no Shigemori's early death, the shifting fortunes of Taira no Munemori and the others, and their final destruction at the Battle of Dan-no-ura.

Apart from a few minor differences in the details, and the occasional passing mention of a ninja gathering intelligence or being hired to carry out an assassination, the entire narrative was almost identical to The Tale of the Heike as he remembered it.

The parts about ninja had been deliberately downplayed, reducing them to tools.

They seemed to be no more than a few indistinct shadows in the torrent of history, appearing now and then to complete a "mission" before swiftly departing.

The story always focused on the political schemes of court nobles, the loyalty, courage, and tragic fate of samurai, and the sense of impermanence that came with the rise and fall of dynasties.

The ninja's real struggles, their lives, their feelings, and the roles they played in the tide of that era—

All of it was concealed, or passed over in a few words that reduced them to tools.

Izuna's heart slowly sank, and a complex yet clear realization gradually surfaced in his mind.

He stilled his fingers and looked up at Matsuda Hōshi, who was immersed in the ancient tale. "Matsuda Hōshi," he asked softly, "are all Heikyoku sung like this? Telling the stories of noble lords and samurai?"

Matsuda Hōshi came out of the lingering mood of the melody and paused at the question.

Then he nodded. "Yes, my child. Biwa hōshi have served the court and warrior houses as performers since ancient times, so naturally, most of the stories we pass down are about their rise and fall, their glory and disgrace.

"The Tale of the Heike is the culmination of that tradition, and one of the most highly regarded works."

Izuna could tell that Matsuda had paid no attention at all to the parts about ninja.

Ninja mostly kept to the shadows, their movements secretive.

In fact, judging by what he had seen and heard these past few days, ninja really were not suited to being the protagonists of a story.

It was surprising that people like Naruto and Hashirama were ninja at all.

If even he thought so, it went without saying what those nobles would think.

Izuna lowered his eyes, his fingertips brushing lightly over the cool silk strings.

That was how the public saw ninja in this era. In the eyes of the nobles who controlled the narrative, especially, they were nothing more than tools.

If useful, they were picked up when needed; if useless, or liable to hurt the hand, they were discarded or guarded against.

History was written by the victors, while art often served the class that held resources and power.

Ninja had long been hired, driven, and marginalized, so naturally their stories and voices had also been ignored and distorted by mainstream cultural narratives.

That was also why Black Zetsu had been able to stir up public opinion in the Capital.

The nobles' and common people's expectations of a "ninja musician" still amounted to treating a ninja as a novelty.

A killing tool that should have been wielding swords and spears could suddenly play the refined biwa. That contrast was the greatest attraction in itself.

They were not truly looking forward to a feast of art, but to the farce of a monkey dressed in finery.

The moment that monkey failed to act enough like a monkey, or tried to show intelligence and emotion unbecoming of one, it would immediately be branded as incongruous and an affront to tradition.

And Black Zetsu had deftly amplified the arrogance and prejudice hidden deep in the nobles' bones.

Izuna's earlier plan had been to "crush" their prejudice and break through it with absolute skill and musical ideas ahead of their time.

That was not wrong, but perhaps... it was not enough.

What he needed was not merely to "prove I can do it," but to prove that "even I can do it."

As Izuna looked at the biwa before him, an idea came to mind.

Why not turn the concert into a stage play?

What if I retold The Tale of the Heike, a story passed down for hundreds of years that represented the narrative of nobles and samurai, from a ninja's perspective?

He could use the biwa to tell a "different" story of the Taira.

A story seen through a ninja's eyes, more real, more brutal, and more human behind the struggles for power.

A tragedy that drew those shadows deliberately erased from history books and poetry onto center stage, giving them flesh and blood, feelings and choices.

Izuna stroked the strings and took a deep breath.

Adapting the story was risky in itself. Even though he knew how to make people empathize in a short time, expanding a story that already had a foothold was actually easy.

But can I finish the task in such a short time?

Counting the days, there are only twelve left. If I'm putting on a play, I definitely can't do it alone. I'll have to find actors and make sure they understand what I want and how I want it performed...

Maybe... I should forget it?

Seeing Izuna remain silent for so long, a thoughtful look on his face, Matsuda Hōshi assumed he had come across something he could not understand. "Lord Izuna," he asked with concern, "is there something you don't understand?"

Izuna came back to himself and looked at Matsuda Hōshi.

The old hōshi's eyes were clear. He was proud of the art he taught and held tradition in reverence. He truly loved music and genuinely recognized Izuna's talent, which was why he had come to warn him despite the criticism and had taught him everything he knew.

He meant no harm. He had simply spent so long within that constructed narrative that it was only natural he had not noticed.

"No, there's nothing I don't understand." Izuna shook his head and gave a faint but sincere smile. "I just think the stories told in Heikyoku are grand, and very sad.

"Those ninja... they always seem busy in the stories, yet they're so indistinct."

Matsuda Hōshi paused and considered Izuna's words carefully. "Now that you mention it, that does seem... to be true," he said thoughtfully. "Ninja always appear at crucial moments, yet they are like mist or lightning, impossible to grasp in full. Perhaps that is their 'way.'"

He thought Izuna was reflecting on the rootless and mysterious fate of ninja.

Izuna did not contradict him. He merely nodded and turned his attention back to the biwa. "Matsuda Hōshi, let's continue. I'd like to hear you tell me again about Nasu no Yoichi shooting the fan. You said a ninja secretly helped him there too?"

"Yes, yes." Suspecting nothing, Matsuda Hōshi resumed his explanation with full attention.

By the time the lesson ended, the sun was slanting westward.

Izuna walked home with the biwa in his arms, the setting sun stretching his shadow long.

As he walked, the story he had just heard echoed in his mind.

When he pushed open the door to the Uchiha compound, he found that Madara had already returned. He was sitting in the living room with a dark scroll spread out before him, its edges worn and frayed.

"You're back?"

"Yes. Madara, did you find a suitable Genjutsu?" Izuna put down the biwa and went over, looking curiously at the scroll.