About a month had passed, and as the year of Tensho 7 (1579) drew to a close, Nobunaga Oda ordered an execution of such unprecedented cruelty that it remains a dark stain on history. It was the systematic slaughter of the Araki clan and their retainers' families—including the legendary beauty, Dashi.

  The first phase targeted some 120 handmaidens and wives from Arioka Castle. They were taken to a place called "Nanamagari" in Amagasaki and crucified. Onlookers wept in sympathy as children cried out for mercy, but their pleas never reached Nobunaga’s ears. Used as targets for muskets and bows, or skewered by spears, every last one was executed amidst cries of agony.

  Nobunaga deliberately chose a site visible from Amagasaki Castle, where Murashige had fled, forcing the man to watch the slaughter of his own family. Nobunaga himself oversaw the gruesome spectacle from horseback, his expression remaining utterly unmoved.

  The second phase claimed nearly 500 lives—the families of lower-ranking samurai and servants. This was even more horrific than the crucifixions. These innocent people were crammed into four farmhouses, which were then surrounded by heaps of dry brush and wood.

  Nobunaga ordered the houses set ablaze, burning them all alive. Those who tried to crawl out through the flames were shoved back in with spears. It is said their screams could be heard for miles.

  Finally, the thirty-six closest relatives of Murashige Araki including his primary wife, Dashi, were sent to the Rokujo riverbed in Kyoto.

  December 16, Tensho 7. A freezing winter wind swept across the Rokujo riverbed. Nobunaga was not there in person; only his "judgment in the name of logic" remained, waiting to be coldly executed.

  As the women of the clan were paraded through the streets in four ox-drawn carts, Dashi stood out. Dressed in spotless white robes, her hair perfectly arranged, her skin was so pale it seemed translucent in the winter light. Onlookers gasped at her ethereal beauty, their sobs filling the air as they contemplated the cruel fate awaiting her.

  Clutched secretly in Dashi’s hand, hidden in her sleeve, was a small crucifix.

  (O Deus... please forgive these men for the sin of taking our lives. And... grant my Lord in Amagasaki a peaceful sleep...)

  Upon arriving at the execution grounds, she did not falter. She walked with a serene grace, as if strolling through a favorite garden. A profound silence governed the scene, broken only by the pure sound of her footsteps treading upon the snow.

  Before her eyes, her companions and kin fell one by one to the blade. In a hellish landscape where fresh blood stained the snow crimson, Dashi’s eyes remained fixed on a distant, heavenly realm.

  Escorted by the executioner, Dashi took one final look at the sky toward Amagasaki. Somewhere beneath that sky was Murashige, the husband who had abandoned her to save himself. She felt no anger, no resentment. Her faith had sublimated everything into "Love."

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  She sat down quietly and recited her death poem:

  "If the moon of the heart, which must be polished, becomes clouded,

  There shall be no light to guide the way through the dark of the afterlife."

  She was determined not to let her soul darken until her final breath. Her noble spirit remains carved into these words even today.

  Dashi turned to the executioner and offered a faint, gentle smile.

  "I have kept you waiting... Please, do not hesitate."

  At the sound of that pure voice, the hands of the veteran executioner trembled.

  She was as radiant and dignified as a Madonna descending into hell. With a heart as clear as the moon and a delicate smile, she bared her neck. In a soft whisper, she offered her final prayer.

  "Ave Maria, gratia plena, Dominus tecum..." (Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee...)

  As the blade swung down, her lips moved one last time: "Amen."

  To the sound of the onlookers' wailing, Dashi departed this world with a smile. Even after her head fell to the earth, it is said that her expression remained one of soft, divine peace. The executioners stood frozen, their blood-stained hands shaking at the sheer holiness of her passing.

  News of the execution reached Himeji several days later.

  When Kanbe'e heard the report, he felt a shiver of pure horror. Staring at his now-crippled leg, he quietly made the sign of the cross. Murashige—the man he had risked everything to persuade against rebellion—had abandoned his family to flee, and as a result, the noble and beautiful Dashi had been beheaded in the mud.

  (Dashi... the little ones... all of them... slaughtered. Is that who he is? Nobunaga is truly a Demon King who fears neither God nor Buddha. Had things gone differently, my own Shoju would have been executed on that same riverbed...)

  (And you, Murashige... how cowardly a man are you? Not just Fuji, but the lives of your entire clan... Had you not fled alone, this blood would never have been spilled. How many lives were extinguished because of the 'life' you tried to save?)

  (Deus... please, grant peace to the souls of the fallen...)

  Kanbe'e prayed for Dashi’s certain salvation.

  "Pater noster, qui es in caelis, sanctificetur nomen tuum..." (Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name...)

  "Ave Maria, gratia plena, Dominus tecum... Amen."

  Clenching his teeth against the pain in his mangled knee, he made the sign of the cross with trembling fingers. His prayer was a mourning for the dead, but also a blood-spitting question to the fate that had dragged him back from the depths of hell.

  Within Kanbe'e, who had returned from the abyss, a quiet, eternal blue flame began to flicker.

  The imprisonment had left him crippled and hairless. Yet, this "physical loss" was transforming him from a cold strategist into a "monster" possessed of terrifying spiritual depth. The man who returned from the brink of death was no longer the Kanbe'e he had been.

  That night, in his private chamber, Kanbe'e took Hanbe'e’s war fan in his hand. His fingers did not tremble with rage; they were as steady as rock under the weight of his resolve.

  He whispered into the shadows.

  "Hanbe'e... I have decided. That Demon King... I will strike him down with these hands. I will create a world where Shoju, whom you protected, can live with a smile."

  It was not a prayer. It was a vow. And a curse.

  There was no longer any hesitation in Kanbe'e’s eyes. As the weight of Hanbe'e’s legacy and Dashi’s sorrow converged, it was the moment Kanbe'e was reborn as a "monster."

  Produced and written by a Japanese author, rooted in authentic Japanese history. Translated with the assistance of Gemini (AI).