The Death of Guo Sheng

The stage lights went out.

The impenetrable darkness, like the icy seawater that swallowed Kiyotsune, weighed heavily on the hearts of every viewer.

Silence.

A suffocating silence, born from witnessing death and separation in a way that felt all too real, permeated the entire theater.

Whether they were commoners weathered by hardship or pampered nobles, everyone was immersed in a profound grief, unable to extricate themselves.

Death, in whatever form it comes, always brings immense sorrow.

What's more, they lost two young people in succession, even though they knew who they were and understood their awareness.

Time flowed slowly in silence, as if mourning the deceased.

I don't know how much time passed.

"Snap."

A very soft sound rang out.

In the very center of the stage, a faint halo of light quietly illuminated.

The aperture wasn't large, just enough to cover a kneeling figure.

It's Atsumori.

No, perhaps he should be called Taira no Atsumori at this moment.

He was no longer the elegant young nobleman in white Kariginu playing the flute under the moon, nor the boy who broke down and wept because of the departure of his best friend.

He was wearing a heavy and elaborate suit of armor.

The dark torso reflected a cold, hard gleam in the dim light, complete with arm guards and shin guards.

Her long, black hair was neatly tied up, revealing her smooth forehead and slender neck.

Before him lay a gleaming bronze mirror.

Beside the mirror was an open vanity case containing fine white powder, a small brush, and a box of bright red cinnabar.

He was intently using a soft brush to apply the snow-white lead powder layer by layer, evenly and slowly, to his face.

Their movements were meticulous, as if they were performing a sacred ritual.

Forehead, brow bone, cheekbone, bridge of nose, jaw...

The fine white powder gradually covered his original skin tone, seemingly concealing the fatigue of days of escape and all the vibrancy that belonged to "Atsumori".

His face, reflected in the mirror and bathed in light, gradually transformed into a smooth, almost inhuman "Noh mask."

Pale, solemn, devoid of any human warmth.

Below the stage, Samurai Court Nobles and even a few Ninjas familiar with samurai customs immediately understood what he was doing.

This was a ceremony sometimes held by high-ranking generals Warring States Period before they went to war.

Applying makeup.

Painting one's face a striking white is not for aesthetic reasons, but rather has a very practical and symbolic meaning.

On the chaotic battlefield, a white-painted face, like a bright flag, clearly proclaimed to both sides.

This man is clad in heavy armor; he is not an ordinary soldier, but a general. Obtaining his head will ensure your name is etched in history.

It is a symbol of identity, and also a display of Yūki.

They dared to expose their faces to swords and arrows, without fear.

The last touch of vermilion on his lips was the only color on his pale face, as if the last of his life's blood had been poured into it, symbolizing his resolute will to die and his awareness of sacrificing himself.

Some commoners who were not familiar with this custom initially looked at Atsumori's actions with some confusion.

But when he picked up the box of cinnabar, carefully dipped his fingertip in it, and then solemnly applied a vivid, blood-red dot to the center of his lips...

Then, combined with his heavy armor, which was completely different from his previous elegant image, I instantly understood.

He's going to the battlefield.

He was going to fight as a Taira Samurai.

Within the aperture, Atsumori completed the final touch of vermilion.

He gazed silently at himself in the mirror.

He reached out and slowly ran his hand over the uneven patterns on the cold armor, finally stopping at his heart.

There, kept close to her body, was a fragment of Butterfly that Shinrei had left behind.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

When she opened her eyes again, the last trace of bewilderment and sorrow in the eyes reflected in the mirror had completely vanished.

Only tranquility remained.

He slowly stood up.

The heavy armor made a deep, majestic creaking sound with his movements.

He glanced one last time at the image of the pale, ghostly Samurai with crimson lips in the mirror, then turned without hesitation and walked out of the circle of light, disappearing into the darkness.

When the stage lights came on again, the white flag symbolizing the Minamoto faction was raised.

Minamoto no Yoritomo (played by Nara Shikahiko) is listening to the latest battle report.

He was dressed in simple, dark straight clothes, leaning back in a relaxed posture, his fingertips unconsciously tapping his knees, but his eyes, beneath his half-closed eyelids, were sharp as an eagle's.

"The Battle of Mizushima..." He slowly repeated the place name, "Taira no Tomomori... did possess some quick wit and courage. By laying planks between ships, turning the sea into land, and controlling the battlefield... Ah, it seems that although the Taira was defeated, their claws and teeth are still sharp."

His tone was flat, making it impossible to discern whether he was praising or wary.

However, what made him and his advisors even more absurd and alarmed was another piece of news from Kyoto.

Kiso Yoshinaka defeated the remnants of the Taira in Echizen and marched straight towards Kyoto. Retired Emperor Go-Shirakawa ordered him to pursue the Taira, but he actually asked the Cloistered Emperor for the title of Shogun.

"General Zhengyi?"

He sat up slightly, looking at his wife, Hōjō Masako, as if to confirm if he had misheard. "Has he gone mad?"

Sure enough, even more astonishing news soon came from Kyoto.

Retired Emperor Go-Shirakawa- Shirakawa was so enraged by Minamoto no Yoshinaka's audacious request that he secretly ordered the Warrior Monks of Southern Capital to find a way to get rid of this ungrateful barbarian general.

However, Minamoto no Yoshinaka not only escaped the assassination attempt, but also launched a fierce counterattack.

He followed the example of the Taira, but this time he burned not a temple, but the Dwelling of the Cloistered Emperor.

In the Kakkō, Minamoto no Yoshinaka once again displayed his reckless courage and utter contempt for authority.

He then forcibly brought the Cloistered Emperor under his control.

With nowhere else to turn and filled with shock and anger, Retired Emperor Go-Shirakawa had no choice but to secretly send an envoy to Minamoto no Yoritomo, whom he had previously regarded as a potential threat, for help.

A barely suppressed commotion and whispers arose from the audience.

Holy crap... that's amazing!

"Burn down the Cloistered Emperor's house? And lock him up? This Minamoto no Yoshinaka is truly fearless!"

"Outrageous! Absolutely outrageous!"

Even the young Daimyo couldn't help but shake his head, lightly tapping his forehead with his fan, and whispered to his attendant, "Truly a reckless fool. Relying on courage to bully superiors is not a sustainable path."

On stage, after receiving the message from the Cloistered Emperor's secret envoy pleading for help, Minamoto no Yoritomo turned to Masako, who had been quietly by his side, and asked with a rare hint of inquiry in his voice, "Masako, in your opinion... should this Kiso Yoshinaka be eliminated?"

Hōjō Masako answered decisively, "He must be eliminated. This man is brave, but he is lawless and unruly, and will inevitably cause chaos in the long run. Now that he has taken the Cloistered Emperor hostage, he has already offended the world. Defeating him is perfectly justified and will also demonstrate the loyalty and Strength of the Minamoto to the Cloistered Emperor and the world."

Minamoto no Yoritomo nodded slowly, a glint of light in his eyes. Masako's words had struck a chord with him.

By attacking Minamoto no Yoshinaka, one can not only eliminate this restless cousin and potential rival, but also seize the moral high ground under the guise of "serving the emperor," further consolidating one's position—truly a win-win situation.

"Then," he pondered, "Who should be appointed as the supreme commander of the expedition... ah?"

The Samurai who was giving his report suddenly moved closer, startling Minamoto no Yoritomo.

"The position of Commander-in-Chief may be held by your younger brother, Minamoto no Noriyori."

"Furthermore... how about we send Yoshitsune along?"

"Yoshitsune..." Minamoto no Yoritomo repeated the name softly.

The stage lights seemed to shift and illuminate the other side as the name was uttered.

There, a figure slowly walked out.

It was Minamoto no Yoshitsune.

The actor playing the role is a very handsome young man from the Uchiha named Uchiha Tadayo.

He had delicate features, fair skin, and an upright posture. He wore casual Samurai clothing that allowed for easy movement, and Tachi was worn at his waist.

He stood there quietly, exuding a cool and sharp aura befitting a young nobleman, which was quite consistent with the image of the tragic hero in historical records and unofficial histories, who was described as "handsome and skilled in martial arts."

Many audience members, especially women, showed admiration in their eyes.

However, the young Daimyo's gaze swept back and forth between Yoshitsune on the stage and Uchiha Izuna, who was intently playing the Biwa on the side of the stage, and he secretly compared them in his heart.

Well...

In terms of looks, Uchiha Izuna is much more attractive than the one playing Yoshitsune on stage.

It's not that the actress isn't beautiful, but Izuna's beauty is... indescribable.

It wasn't the gentleness of a woman, but a kind of handsomeness somewhere between a boy and a young man, clear and with a touch of mystery.

Especially when he lowers his eyes to pluck the strings, the lines of his profile and his focused expression, under the special lighting of the stage, seem to be bathed in a soft glow, making him absolutely stunning.

The Daimyo subconsciously shook his fan.

It is said that the Uchiha Clan is known for producing many beauties, and Izuna is one of the best among them.

It's just puzzling why he didn't personally portray Minamoto no Yoshitsune, who was known for his good looks, but instead chose to remain behind the scenes playing the koto.

Was it really just because no one could learn his unparalleled Biwa skills?

The scene on stage transformed into a battlefield in just a few seconds.

Minamoto no Yoshitsune sat astride his warhorse, his silver armor gleaming coldly in the morning light.

He had a handsome face, with a sharp edge in his eyes that came with the experience of battle. He asked in a calm tone:

Where is the Taira's commander-in-chief?

The adjutant behind him immediately reported, "The enemy's commander is named Taira Sukemori, and it is said that... he has already led his remaining troops in retreat."

Upon hearing this, Yoshitsune merely gave a very soft "humph," his voice devoid of any discernible emotion, like a hawk surveying the battlefield, showing little surprise at its prey's escape.

His gaze fell upon the faint outline of the distant mountains. "What about the remaining soldiers?"

They all held their positions in Ichi-no-Tani, relying on its strategic location to resist stubbornly.

On the other side, Ichi-no-Tani, the atmosphere was as heavy as iron.

The Taira soldiers relied on steep cliffs and narrow valley entrances for their final desperate struggle.

After days of defeats and low morale, this desperate situation has instead ignited a ruthless determination to fight to the death.

Taira no Tomomori stood at the front of the battle, his armor covered in dust and bloodstains, yet he stood as straight as a pine tree.

His gaze swept across the faces of the soldiers, then he suddenly drew his sword, the tip pointing straight to the sky, his voice booming like thunder.

"Gentlemen! The fate of the Taira rests on this battle! Behind us lies a precipice; only by advancing forward can we find a glimmer of hope! Follow me—kill!"

"Kill--!"

A mournful roar echoed through the valley.

Taira no Yukimori and Taira no Tadanori each led an army to defend key passes and fight to the death.

They were preparing for a possible strong attack from the Minamoto at the valley entrance, calculating their troop strength and deploying their Defensive Lines.

However, they overlooked one thing.

Or rather, they couldn't imagine that anyone in this world would dare to use troops in such a way.

Minamoto no Yoshitsune led a carefully selected cavalry force, like ghosts, to the other side of the Hiyodorigoe Cliff, which the Taira considered impassable and impossible for even birds to cross.

The steep, sheer cliffs, almost vertical, deterred even experienced woodcutters.

Minamoto no Yoshitsune stood on the edge of the cliff, looking down at the tiny, ant-like Taira and its flags below.

The mountain wind whistled, ruffling the stray hairs on his forehead.

Behind him, the cavalrymen, their faces pale, stared at the abyss, their Adam's apples bobbing.

It is said that only wild deer can pass through this cliff.

Yoshitsune, however, remained calm, even a faint smile playing at the corners of his lips.

"If a wild deer can cross, then a horse can too."

He slowly raised his hand, and then, without hesitation, spurred his horse and leaped off the cliff.

After a brief silence, the loyal subordinates roared like wild beasts, and followed suit!

Dozens of warhorses, carrying Samurai determined to fight to the death, roared down from the rear, a place the Taira clan could never have imagined, like divine soldiers descending from the Taira!

"Enemy attack!! From behind! They're coming down from the cliff!"

"It's Minamoto! White Flag!"

"How is that possible?!"

The Taira's forces were thrown into chaos!

The carefully laid Defensive Line were torn apart from the inside. The soldiers turned around in terror and saw the white-armored cavalry descending from the sky. Their courage was shattered and their fighting spirit collapsed in an instant.

In the chaos, Taira no Shigehira fought desperately, trying to stabilize the situation, but he was outnumbered and eventually exhausted and captured.

The army collapsed like a house of cards.

The remnants of the Taira began an Ichi-no-Tani, fleeing towards the coast.

Amidst this chaotic rout, a small cavalry unit of the Minamoto, like wolves smelling blood, tenaciously seized a small group of Taira soldiers who had broken away from the main force.

The leader was a young man from the Senju Clan, playing the role of Kumagai Naozane. He was burly and rugged, and at this moment, his eyes burned with the excitement of chasing prey and the desire for battle.

His gaze was fixed on a particularly striking figure among the fleeing soldiers.

The man rode a white horse, and even in his retreat, he tried his best to maintain an upright posture.

What's most striking is his face.

Painted with striking white powder and a touch of vermilion on her lips, she stood out against the dust-covered armor like a red plum blossom blooming in the snow, both poignant and resolute.

It was after completing his makeup that Taira no Atsumori resolved to go into battle.

"That white-faced fellow up there! Is he a renowned general of the Taira? Why is he facing away from the enemy with his back turned? Doesn't that disgrace the name of Samurai!" Kumagai Naozane he waved his cypress fan and loudly provoked.

Upon hearing this, Guo Sheng, who was fleeing in disarray, suddenly pulled on the reins.

The white horse reared up and let out a long neigh.

After the horse calmed down, he slowly turned his head.

The sea breeze swept by, ruffling his hair.

On that pale, geisha-like face, with lips stained crimson, were a pair of dark eyes as calm as an ancient well.

He calmly looked back at Kumagai.

The audience below the stage instantly erupted in commotion!

"Guo Sheng! Run!"

"Don't look back! Run!"

Many nobles covered their faces with fans, unable to bear the sight.

They knew what was going to happen next; the historical records and the Biwa Hōshi's chanting had already sealed the fate of this young nobleman.

Guo Sheng did not run away.

He silently dismounted.

The heavy armor caused him to land with a dull thud, splashing a shallow spray of water.

They had retreated to the shore, the tide gently washing over his shins.

He drew the long sword from his waist, its blade gleaming with a cold, eerie light in the dim daylight.

Then, he faced Kumagai Naozane, bowed slightly, and gave a standard challenge salute.

No words are needed.

Izuna's poignant and melodious Biwa entered at just the right moment, accompanied by his plaintive singing:

"Then the man raised his fan and waved it—"

Guo Sheng accepted the invitation—and drew his sword to greet them—

On the stage, Kumagai Naozane had only his war merits in his eyes at this moment, and he gently tossed the Gunbai in his hand into the air.

The fan spun, cutting through the damp air.

The Setsuna the fan touched the water's surface!

The two men simultaneously let out a roar and charged at each other!

The duel between heavily armored Samurai was naturally not as agile and swift as Ninja's fight, but it was more heavy and more bloody, with each strike accompanied by the loud clashing of metal and the muffled thud of crushing force.

Swords clashed, sparks flew.

After several rounds, Guo Sheng was in grave danger. Several deep cuts appeared on his armor, and his pale cheeks were slashed by the blades that had grazed him, with blood mixed with white powder flowing down.

The audience's hearts clenched. They knew the outcome, yet they couldn't help but cry out in their hearts, hoping for a miracle, hoping that this young life could be saved.

But reality is cruel.

As the sound of Izuna's Biwa suddenly intensified, like metal shattering, Guo Sheng stumbled and was caught off guard by Kumagai Naozane, who slammed him into his arms and then pressed him down into the shallow sea by the immense force!

The salty seawater instantly submerged his mouth and nose.

"--The man ripped off Guo Sheng's helmet, intending to take his head--"

Kumagai Naozane his knee to pin down the struggling Guo Sheng and ripped off his helmet with one hand.

Her long, black hair was disheveled, covered in seawater and mud.

Then, Kumagai saw his face.

"--But she appeared to be only sixteen or seventeen years old, with a beautiful and graceful appearance--"

The Senju man playing Kumagai, Senju, froze in that instant.

Following the script and Izuna's lyrics, his gaze fell upon Guo Sheng.

Even though Uchiha Hinata was covered in blood and white powder, it still couldn't hide his delicate and beautiful youthful features.

Sixteen or seventeen years old.

Those dark eyes were tightly closed, water droplets clinging to their long eyelashes. On her pale face, the crimson of her lips was stained by the seawater, spreading into a mournful flower.

This is just a kid... about the same age as his younger brothers in the family who have just started taking on missions and still joke and fight over trivial things.

The young man with Senju hands felt as if an invisible hand had squeezed his heart tightly.

At that moment, he empathized with Kumagai Naozane in the drama.

At this moment, Izuna's singing style transformed into a low, mournful sigh.

"--The man felt pity and was about to spare his life..."

Kumagai Naozane's hand on the hilt of the sword loosened and tightened repeatedly.

To kill or not to kill?

If they meet on the battlefield, each serving their own master, it is their duty to kill the enemy general.

But this is clearly still a child... a child who practices the way of the Samurai in such a resolute and beautiful way.

Let him go?

The thought had just arisen—

"--Just as I turned around!"

Izuna's singing suddenly rose in pitch, Biwa strings burst forth with rapid finger tremolos!

Behind the stage, Genjutsu effects surged, and the banners and figures of the Minamoto's main force, symbolizing the army, faintly appeared in the smoke and dust, rapidly approaching this direction!

If his later colleagues were to see that he had let go of such an important general of the Taira... especially such an easily recognizable young Samurai...

Cowardice? Collusion with the enemy? Or just womanly compassion?

Either of these reasons would be enough to ruin his reputation and even harm his family.

Kumagai's face instantly turned extremely ugly, veins throbbing on his forehead, as he was caught in a huge internal conflict and struggle.

The audience below the stage also understood the desperate situation, but they hoped even more that Guo Sheng would survive. Some emotional civilians even couldn't help but shout.

"Run! Now's the time!"

"Don't kill him! Please!"

He's still a child!

However, just as Kumagai Naozane Naomi was caught in a dilemma, torn between his own conscience and his inner turmoil.

Guo Sheng, who was pinned down and unable to struggle, suddenly opened his eyes.

His gaze remained calm, carrying a sense of relief and understanding.

His voice wasn't loud, but it clearly pierced through the sound of the waves and the faint shouts of battle coming from afar, and also drowned out the clamor of the audience below the stage.

"Hello!"

Kumagai Naozane glanced at him instinctively.

Guo Sheng gazed at the gray sky, seawater constantly washing over his cheeks, and said softly, "Quickly cut off my head."

"What?" Kumagai didn't react for a moment.

"Take my head," Guo Sheng repeated calmly, "And you too can... make a name for yourself."

He paused, his gaze seemingly piercing through the clouds, seeing a distant, warm moonlit night, a boy playing the flute, a serene figure with a red Butterfly...

The corners of his mouth curved upwards slightly.

"I swore an oath..."

"I swore an oath..."

"I want to... do it like Samurai... with dignity and honor..."

The last few words, as light as a sigh, dissipated in the sea breeze.

Kumagai Naozane understood.

He also understood the last vestige of dignity and pride that belonged to Samurai in the boy's eyes.

To spare his life would be an insult.

To live a life of ignominy is a betrayal.

Only at this moment, by using the blood of an enemy general to establish each other's names, can we give him, this encounter, and our identity as Samurai the best explanation.

Kumagai Naozane closed his eyes.

When she opened her eyes again, the struggle in them had vanished, leaving only a resolute determination to mask the dull pain in her heart.

He suddenly tilted his head back and let out a choked sob that sounded inhuman, like a wounded beast gathering its last bit of Yūki to wield the knife.

Then, he raised the Tachi in his hand.

The blade reflected the sunlight, cold and piercing.

"Ahhh--!"

With a roar, the blade flashed and fell!

Under the cleverly interwoven Genjutsu and splashing water, Uchiha Hinata's body tilted to the side, successfully escaping Kumagai's suppression and silently sliding into the pre-set safe area backstage.

On stage, in the eyes of the audience, it was the sudden rise of Izuna's Biwa tremolo, its mournful and poignant notes, and the lingering resonance of her abruptly ending song.

That pale, snow-white figure, tinged with crimson, along with all his longing and vows, sank into the icy sea.

Only a few strands of black hair swayed a few times with the receding tide, and then disappeared.

The sea returned to calm, as if nothing had happened.

Only in the shallow waters by the shore, the exquisite helmet and the blood-stained Tachi tell the story of the boy's existence.

Taira no Atsumori remains forever in this bay called Ichi-no-Tani.

In the way he most desired, the way of the Samurai.

The audience was deathly silent.

Suddenly, the cry of a baby rang out and then faded into the distance.

His only son, Kagami Uchiha, was brought along by the accompanying Uchiha clan members.

I don't know why I suddenly burst into tears.