Moonlight: The Minamoto rise

(It is recommended to read this chapter along with the next one.)

The moonlight, like mercury spilling onto the ground, Fukuhara the beaches, rocks, and the Taira Clan members gathered there in a soft glow.

The adults sat in twos and threes on the high places covered with mats, talking in hushed tones or quietly admiring the moon.

The children were playing nearby when their wet nurse gently called them back.

The flickering campfire dispelled some of the chill of the night sea.

Kiyotsune and Atsumori sat side by side on the beach, gazing at the moonlight that shimmered like shards of silver on the sea.

"The moonlight is beautiful," Kiyotsune murmured.

"The moonlight is so beautiful." Atsumori said almost simultaneously, their voices filled with the same intoxication.

The two exchanged a smile, feeling a closer connection because of their unspoken understanding.

After a brief silence, Atsumori turned to Kiyotsune, his expression becoming solemn. "Forgive me for my delay in expressing myself... I am deeply saddened by the passing of your Shigemori. It has been almost a year, hasn't it?"

He bowed slightly. "I have always respected Shigemori's integrity and benevolence as Samurai, especially his deeds during the Heiji Rebellion."

His eyes revealed a young man's yearning for heroes. "'It is the first year of the Heiji era, the Capital is called Heian-kyo, we are from the Taira Clan, all three are at peace, we should naturally wipe out the enemy army!' I heard that he made this declaration loudly, leading and inspiring everyone. Such spirit makes my heart surge, I wish I had been born a few years earlier to follow him!"

Hearing Atsumori's sincere words, Kiyotsune nodded gently. "Thank you, cousin Atsumori. Hearing you say that, Father's spirit in heaven will surely be comforted."

Sukemori, however, was getting impatient with the atmosphere of reminiscing about past heroes. He crossed his arms and interrupted in a curt tone, "Hey, you two didn't get together just to gossip like this, did you? Weren't you here to play the flute?"

He hates reminiscing about the past, which makes him constantly think back to the time when his father was still alive, a time that was much better than now.

Atsumori was taken aback by Sukemori's words, and then apologized. "Ah... I'm so sorry! It was just a momentary outburst that disturbed your enjoyment."

Kiyotsune glanced helplessly at his elder brother, then smiled reassuringly at Atsumori: "Brother is a bit... straightforward in some ways, you don't need to take it too seriously."

"What did you say?" Sukemori raised an eyebrow.

Kiyotsune and Atsumori, however, tacitly ignored him and each picked up their musical instruments.

"Well..." Kiyotsune adjusted his breathing.

"You don't mind if I join, do you?" a cheerful voice chimed in.

The three turned around and saw Shigehira walking over at some point. He was wearing a red casual outfit that allowed him to move around easily, and his red hair seemed to soften a lot in the moonlight. He had a relaxed smile on his face.

"Uncle Shigehira!" Kiyotsune exclaimed with delight.

"Lord Shigehira!" Atsumori quickly rose and bowed. "I am Taira no Tsunemori, son of Atsumori."

Shigehira his hand, indicating that he didn't need to be so polite, and said with a gentle smile, "I know you."

He casually sat down next to the two of them.

Atsumori's eyes lit up even more at the approval of his respected uncle among the younger generation, and he couldn't help but say, "Really! I've heard so much about you! I heard you were incredibly brave in the battles between the Uji River and Onjōji! Always leading from the front..."

Before he could finish speaking, the smile on Shigehira's face froze almost imperceptibly.

The icy waters of the Uji River, the raging flames of Onjōji, the screams of soldiers falling, the crackling of burning wood, and the stench of burnt and blood instantly overwhelmed my senses.

It wasn't glory, but a heavy, searing memory.

But he couldn't bear to dampen the pure admiration and enthusiasm in the eyes of the young people.

"Bringing up those violent matters would only disturb this elegant moonlight." Shigehira quickly regained his smile, skillfully changing the subject, his gaze falling on the flute in Atsumori's hands. "Come, let us hear 'Little Branch's' flute playing. I've been waiting for this for a long time."

"Yes!" Atsumori was immediately brought back to the present atmosphere and solemnly raised his flute.

Kiyotsune nodded as well.

The three exchanged a glance, adjusted their breathing, and placed the Shakuhachi to their lips.

The next moment, a distant, ethereal, and strangely harmonious flute melody flowed across the moonlit seaside of Fukuhara.

They were not playing traditional Shakuhachi pieces, nor were they playing in the ensemble style common in this era. Professor Izuna gave them "Yuugure" performed on the Shakuhachi.

That melody from another time and space, carrying the emotions of Naruto fans.

The three Shakuhachi, each with a slightly different timbre, create exquisite harmonies.

A timeless and unhurried tranquility flowed through the air, easily soothing the daytime hustle and bustle and the anxieties in people's hearts.

This incredibly harmonious ensemble is completely different from the playing style popular among the nobility at the time.

The ensemble performances among nobles served as a bridge between different periods, much like the Floating Cup Banquet, emphasizing the collaboration of different stages.

This piece is different; it has a clear distinction between primary and secondary elements, but each section can be considered a complete piece on its own.

It exudes an inner harmony and resonance, as if the hearts of the three musicians are intertwined through the music at this moment.

The musicians in the audience couldn't help but whisper among themselves again, their eyes filled with astonishment and curiosity.

"What... what kind of music is this? I've never heard it before!"

"Harmony can be arranged like this? I never knew the timbre of the Shakuhachi could be blended like this?"

"It sounds... so comforting, it instantly calmed me down."

"Completely different from tradition, yet possessing a unique charm, whose new work is this?"

They all turned their gazes to the side of the stage, to the blue-clad boy who wasn't plucking the strings and was enjoying the flute music with the audience.

Uchiha Izuna.

It's him again.

The Biwa skills have reached a state of perfection, and now they are also showing such amazing originality in the arrangement of wind music.

He skillfully blended different vocal parts, creating music that retained the ethereal quality of the Shakuhachi while highlighting its harmonious beauty.

This child's talent in music is simply unfathomable.

On the stage, the sound of a flute drifted softly.

Shinrei stood with her arms crossed in the shadows not far behind Kiyotsune, her gaze falling on Atsumori's profile as he played the flute with focused concentration, before quickly shifting away to look at the rising moon over the sea.

Takuichi leaned against a tree trunk a little further away.

Although Sukemori initially seemed impatient, he now crossed his arms, listened intently, and the lines on his face softened slightly in response to the music.

The elegant music and tranquil moonlit night could not, in the end, conceal the unease and homesickness in people's hearts.

The various inconveniences brought about by the Relocation to Fukuhara fermented in the daily sea breeze and humidity, turning into all sorts of bizarre rumors that quietly circulated among the Taira Clan and even the nobles and Court Noble who had moved with them.

"Have you heard? That century-old pine tree in the courtyard of our old house in the Capital City withered and died overnight after we left!"

"More than that! The fine horse presented by the Land of Grass, not long after arriving in Fukuhara, had rats build a nest in its tail! This is a very bad omen!"

"Houses by the sea are always damp; the paintings and calligraphy all got moldy..."

"His Majesty seems to have started crying because he heard the sound of the waves..."

Whispers, like sea fog, permeated the seemingly still magnificent mansion.

As if confirming this ominous rumor, Narihito Retired Emperor Takakura by the relocation of the capital, the political situation, and his own inner turmoil, fell ill.

The stage lights focused on an elegant Bedchamber.

The slightly bitter aroma of the medicine permeated the air.

Narihito awoke from his deep sleep, a cold compress on his forehead, his consciousness still somewhat hazy.

He turned his eyes slightly and saw Tokuko kneeling beside his pillow, holding a round Gunbai in her hand, gently fanning him.

Her profile appeared serene and focused in the dim light, with faint blue shadows under her eyes.

"... You don't need to do all this yourself." Narihito's voice was hoarse and dry, almost inaudible.

Tokuko continued fanning herself, only slightly lowering her eyes. "It's alright."

I'm sorry.

"There's nothing to apologize for."

"Then... I'm extremely grateful."

"To say such things to me..." Tokuko looked up at her husband's pale face, her tone tinged with helplessness, "There's no need to go to such lengths."

Narihito didn't respond immediately; his gaze was somewhat unfocused, as if he were organizing his thoughts. After a moment, he slowly said, "I've heard... you often visit Father."

Tokuko understood; Narihito simply wanted to find a topic to talk about with her. She gave a soft "hmm" in response, waiting for him to continue.

Narihito's gaze seemed to pierce through the curtains before him, returning to a more distant time.

On the other side of the stage, a soft spotlight illuminated a pair of young figures.

Ten-year-old Narihito, his face still bearing the innocence of childhood, stood there somewhat awkwardly. Opposite him stood Tokuko, a sixteen-year-old girl, her beauty as radiant and fresh as a newly blossoming peony.

The voice of the adult Narihito rose like a soft narrator. "You've been with me since I was a child... Over the years, you've always had a hard time with me."

The young Narihito, bathed in the spotlight, secretly glanced at his beautiful cousin and bride, his eyes filled with clear admiration and self-consciousness.

"You are so beautiful and intelligent, a cousin I have always admired. And I... am both ignorant and powerless, truly ashamed of myself. I have always been... grateful to you."

The spotlight dims, and the scene returns to the bedside.

Tokuko listened quietly, her face expressionless, only her eyelashes trembling slightly.

After a long while, she spoke softly, her tone as respectful and proper as ever. "To know that Your Majesty views me in such a way is truly... an honor."

Narihito seemed to find some comfort. He closed his eyes again, a relieved smile appearing on his lips, as if he had finally managed to vent his frustrations.

However, the hushed discussions in the audience seemed completely out of place.

"Admiration? Gratitude? Then why is he still looking for other women?"

"Mrs. Tokuko is truly... incredibly patient."

"That's a nice way to put it, but what's the use? She'll still be ignored."

"Political marriages have no real feelings; it's all just empty talk."

Time on stage will not linger for the audience's sighs.

The brief conversation at the sickbed had just ended when the urgent notes of the Biwa, symbolizing change and war, suddenly rang out!

The light and shadow shifted rapidly, and the Genjutsu wall in the background displayed a scene of Eastern Izu.

Minamoto no Yoritomo, played by Nara Shikahiko, appeared on stage.

Although he didn't have many scenes when he first appeared, Izuna's incredibly precise casting made it clear what kind of person he was from the very beginning.

The Nara Clan's unique calm and reserved demeanor, as if they were always weighing and calculating, is strikingly similar to that of the Minamoto leader who endured for many years before rising to power.

The audience immediately sensed that this was an extremely formidable and dangerous figure.

He was receiving a scroll from an actor playing a monk.

"This is the decree issued by the Retired Emperor Go-Shirakawa."

Minamoto no Yoritomo slowly unfurled the scroll, his gaze sweeping over the text, a slight smile playing on his lips.

With this official order from the Cloistered Emperor, Kiyomori's past kindness in sparing his life could be legitimately and justifiably broken under the guise of upholding the righteousness of the Imperial Court.

The script doesn't explain the fundamental reason for the Minamoto's uprising; all they need to know is that the Minamoto's attack has begun.

Minamoto no Yoritomo raised his own banner:

"Unlike Lord Kiyomori Minamoto no Yoritomo no Yoritomo, will recruit Samurai from all over the land, regardless of their ethnicity or origin. While upholding the imperial court, I will establish a new era of peace and order."

These few words made the Taira's dominance seem even more unsightly.

The news struck like a thunderbolt at the Taira's residence in Fukuhara.

"You bastard! You ungrateful wretch!" Kiyomori's roar seemed to shatter the dust on the beams.

Minamoto no Yoritomo, the Minamoto descendant whom he hadn't killed in a moment of weakness, had indeed become a major threat!

"We must not let him gain power! We must crush him before his foundation is secure!" Kiyomori's finger slammed heavily on the map at the location of Izu. "Send troops! Send troops to intercept him immediately!"

His gaze swept across the faces of his nephews and nieces who stood solemnly in the hall.

Tomomori's eyes were sharp, eager to try; Shigehira's brows furrowed slightly, as if he was thinking; and Munemori nervously rubbed his hands together.

Finally, Kiyomori's gaze fell on Koremori, who was standing a little behind and whose face was still somewhat pale.

"Koremori!"

The young man whose name was called trembled slightly, then took a deep breath, stepped forward, and bowed. "Yes."

Kiyomori stared at him, his voice as deep as iron. "You will be appointed commander-in-chief, leading the army eastward to intercept Minamoto no Yoritomo's rebel army!"

The order came like a boulder crashing down.

Koremori suddenly raised his head.

The Grand General? Him? He's only participated in one war! Why would my grandfather let someone who knows nothing lead troops?!

Tomomori and Shigehira looked at their father in surprise, then at Koremori.

Munemori opened his mouth, as if he wanted to say something, but swallowed it back under his father's stern gaze.

"Grandfather, I..." Koremori's voice was a little hoarse.

"What?" Kiyomori interrupted him, his gaze piercing. "You are the eldest grandson of the Taira, the Shigemori! Are you afraid?"

"..." Koremori clenched his fists, which were hanging at his sides, his nails digging deep into his palms.

Fear? Of course he was afraid. The icy waters of the Uji River and the towering Kakkō of Onjōji were never truly far from him.

But what he feared even more was disappointing his grandfather, bringing shame upon his deceased father, and disgracing the Taira because of him.

He closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, he bowed his head deeply, using all his strength to make his voice sound steady:

"Grandson... accepts the order."