Where do the tips fly?

Before we knew it, the "Nobunaga's Ambition" series has become a game that has been played in Japan for nearly half a century. The latest installment, "Nobunaga's Ambition: Awakening," is produced in Taiwan, but the more I play it, the more I am impressed by the depth of its understanding of Japanese culture.

Despite being a historical game, it is not just about lining up warlords and fighting. Culture, diplomacy, and the relationships between individuals are scattered throughout as detailed touches, and there are many moments that make you think, "I see, so that's what they focused on."

International affairs are a topic of conversation every day around the world. Israel, Russia, Iran—the central themes shift from time to time, but when you look at history, it is ultimately the accumulation of relationships between people that shapes the era.

Thinking about such things, I arrive at a strange conclusion in my head.

In the end, it is "a tip for Nijo Castle."

Of course, there was no such system as a historical fact. However, just as an audience moved by a Noh performance throws tips, it starts to feel as if the end of the Sengoku period was also a stage watched by many people.

In the game, a three-person unit (three bodies) clashes with another three-person unit (three bodies), and the one with the higher numerical value wins. The winning unit then proceeds to the next battle. However, if they continue to fight, even the strongest will eventually run out of strength.

History is likely the same.

In Japan, there is a story where a "person" turns into a "tree" using ninjutsu. If three people turn into trees, they become a forest, and if forests fight forests, it looks a bit like a sibling quarrel between Mori Ranmaru and Mori Bomaru. Such playfulness is also one aspect of Japanese culture.

Furthermore, looking at the Noh repertoire, it connects from the "Mimihiki" performed by Ieyasu, Toshiie, and Hideyoshi as children at Nijo Castle to the modern "Igui." And there, a character named Sanoki appears.

While generally depicted as a fortune teller, I would rather see him as a mathematician.

What he manipulates are counting rods (sangi).

Counting rods were calculation tools used from ancient times to the Middle Ages, representing numbers by changing their positions to perform complex calculations. Although the abacus became widespread in the Edo period, the world of counting rods certainly existed before that.

It is said that in the Siege of Osaka, the Tokugawa side's cannons tormented the Toyotomi side.

Of course, real shelling is influenced by many conditions such as wind direction, gunpowder, and the state of the cannon barrel. However, it is not hard to imagine that knowledge of calculating range and angle helped improve accuracy. The view that mathematics supported the battlefield is by no means absurd.

In the recent drama "SHOGUN," scenes where different cultures and technologies intersect were also depicted impressively.

And the scene that comes to mind as the most impressive in "Chinese History of Japan" is the tragedy surrounding Yodo-dono and her ladies-in-waiting.

In later stories, it is sometimes interpreted that Ieyasu intentionally avoided shelling Yodo-dono's residence. Regardless of the truth of that, the very idea of "hitting a target accurately" seems to symbolize a trust in arithmetic.

Counting rods, how formidable.

Although, it might have been an era when the abacus was already becoming mainstream in the workplaces of bureaucrats. Even so, there must have been people who continued to use the old-fashioned counting rods.

I suddenly wonder.

Even today, automated coding by AI is spreading rapidly. Still, there are not a few people who want to write programs themselves, line by line, in the old-fashioned way.

Just because new tools appear does not mean that old techniques disappear immediately.

Counting rods and the abacus.

Handwritten programs and AI.

Perhaps a craftsman's dedication, common across the ages, flows between them.

And when the performance ends, the audience throws tips for the art that impressed them.

Those tips do not fly toward the technique itself, but toward the person who mastered it.