Be careful not to read too much *Hagakure*.

 Ah, I’ve finally reached the end of *Hagakure*—a truly enjoyable read.

"The way of the samurai is found in death."

How aptly put! It seems the samurai of Japan were absolutely desperate to die in battle. Even the prospect of a peaceful, natural end—surrounded by one’s children and grandchildren—was met with deep dissatisfaction:

"If one must die, it should be by charging into the enemy’s ranks and being run through. To grow old and wither away in one’s bed—what a truly regrettable end!" (*Hagakure*)

Now *that* is a true samurai.

A bitter fate—to die peacefully on a tatami mat.

A samurai must be this way. Above all else, a samurai’s life is defined solely by death. His only true task is to die—to die every single day, every single morning.

"Surely that’s impossible!" you might say.

But no—it is possible. It must be done. And it’s perfectly manageable; *Hagakure* explains exactly how:

"1. One should contemplate death each and every day. Every morning, after calming your mind and body, imagine yourself being shredded by arrows, musket fire, spears, or swords; being swept away by a massive wave; plunging into a raging inferno; struck by a bolt of lightning; tossed about in a great earthquake; or leaping from a cliff thousands of feet high. Reflect on the moment of your own death—whether by illness or sudden catastrophe—and ensure you 'die' in your mind each morning without fail. As the elders say: 'Once you step past the eaves, you are a dead man; once you pass through the gate, an enemy awaits.' This is not merely a call for vigilance; it means you should have already 'died' before you even step outside." (*Hagakure*)

By "dying" in this way, one is finally free to act, unburdened by any lingering concerns. Even if the enemy descends upon you like a vast, swarming cloud—

"In the first month of the third year of Keichō (1598), when a Ming (Chinese) army hundreds of thousands strong attacked Ulsan, the Japanese forces were stunned by the sheer scale of the opposing host and watched with bated breath. Lord Naoshige remarked, 'My, what an immense number of men—there must be hundreds of thousands of them.' Kamiemon replied, 'In Japan, we use the phrase "as numerous as the hairs on a three-year-old ox" to describe something beyond counting; I suppose this is exactly that—the hairs on a three-year-old ox.' Hearing this, the men burst into laughter, and in doing so, regained their strength." (*Hagakure*)

To possess the humor to make one’s own side laugh, even when faced with an overwhelming number of enemies—that is the true mark of a samurai. (Incidentally, this refers to the famous Battle of Ulsan Castle ; the Japanese forces went on to repel the Ming-allied army twice more after this event. [Read more here.]) *Hagakure* offers us a rare, authentic glimpse into the voices of that era.

Yet, since Japan ultimately withdrew, it serves as a reminder that even for a samurai, some things are simply impossible. Misinterpreting *Hagakure* by taking it too literally risks falling into a dangerous form of "mental omnipotence"—the belief that the mind can overcome any reality. Consider what might happen if a samurai—for whom dying in battle is the ultimate goal—were to climb into a fighter plane. The outcome is clear, isn't it?

The "Kamikaze Special Attack Corps."

They would crash their Zero fighters, each carrying a 250-kilogram bomb, straight into an enemy aircraft carrier. (photo)

Or, in more modern times, one might see an incident like that of Yukio Mishima, who stormed the Self-Defense Forces' Ichigaya headquarters to "offer remonstrance" to the leadership before committing *seppuku*. (Read more here.) He, too, was obsessed with *Bushidō*—it seems he may have read *Hagakure* a bit too much.

Ultimately, the military expeditions to Korea ended in a retreat before the overwhelming numbers of the Chinese forces; the Second World War concluded with an unconditional surrender in the face of the overwhelming material resources of the U.S. military; and Mishima failed to incite the Self-Defense Forces to rise up. Even a *bushi*—a warrior—cannot force his will upon the world when the odds are insurmountable.

So, is there no salvation to be found in *Hagakure* for those samurai who rush toward their own deaths?

On the contrary—there certainly is. Among the four vows taken by Yamamoto Tsunetomo—which I have mentioned before in the context of the *Hagakure*—the final one is:

First: To cultivate a heart of great mercy and act for the benefit of others.

As this post has grown a bit long, I will reflect further on this next time.

Guided by love and mercy,

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