A Time Traveller's Guide To Feudal Japan

Moments later Nakatane stuck his head out from the trees, tentatively looking in Gengyo’s direction to make sure that he had interpreted the signal correctly.

Responding to the unspoken question, the young man repeated the earlier signal, encouraging him. That was more than enough for the older man, and he burst out from the trees, his men shooting out behind him.

Despite there being no one to see their crossing, they still sprinted with the utmost urgency, quickly arriving by Gengyo’s side, who promptly led them through the gates.

"By the gods... We’re in!"

Nakatane whispered, struggling to hold back his excited laugh. It had been too easy. Far too easy.

Both units reformed on the inside, assuming formation so that they would be ready for battle at any time.

Adrenaline surged through their veins and their heartbeat thundered in their ears. It was frightening, but so very exciting. Even the newer members were able to appreciate the thrill. Lead by the young man, they had been lifted up into the roles of predators – the top of the food chain, and now they stalked past the buildings, quietly closing the distance between them and the defending army.

The density of the building placement allowed them to remain far away from prying eyes – though there was still a few guards en route who were swiftly taken care of.

Their footsteps grew ever quieter as the sounds of battle grew closer – they quickly neared the climax of the hunt.

With their backs against the side of the colossal administrative building – that sat in the centre of the fortress – Gengyo led them, poking his head out.

The backs of the defenders were facing toward them, ever so temptingly. They all concentrated on reigning fire down upon the insolate attackers who believed they could overpower them simply with brute force. Their commander – an old samurai wearing the blue garb as his men – stood a few metres back from his troops, out of the reach of any arrows.

He frantically gave orders for quivers to be refilled, and for oil to be poured, as they rained fire arrows down upon the enemy.

"Have your bowmen follow me, and prepare your infantry to charge."

Gengyo whispered to Nakatane who stood anxiously by his side, wondering what the young man was seeing. At his words, the grin of a hungry cat lit his face – the boy had spotted prey!

The order was passed quietly along the line, as the men awaited the signal. In truth, it could be done at any moment, but something made him pause – instinct it seemed.

His inclining turned out to be right, as a stray arrow flew high above the defender’s heads, embedding itself into the roof of the grand administrative building with a resounding thud. That was the clincher for the mother bird who resided within the rafters, still holding on in an attempt to protect her young.

She flew out, cawing angrily, swooping low with her talons bared towards the unmasked face of the defending commander.

He flinched upon hearing the caw so close to his ear, as he turned his face to see the exposed claw. He shielded his eyes as he swatted it away, cursing the "damned bird".

In that moment when his attention was distracted, Gengyo moved out from behind the building, his bow drawn. His men followed, and as did the bow ashigaru unit.

He must have sensed something was wrong, for in the instance before they loosed their fingers from the bowstring, he turned around, noticing them.

VWOOSH

And then the volley was fired.

It was every archer’s dream. A target all but 200 paces away. So big, and so still. Even if they had not trained at that distance, it was almost impossible to miss.

Many men fell from that single round.

An arrow embedded itself firmly into the old samurai’s chest. He glanced to look down at it with distaste, before drawing his sword and shouting out to his confused men.

"INTRUDERS! ARM YOURSELVES FOR BATTLE!"

He bellowed loudly, attempting to rally his troops.

But it was a lost cause. As per the plan, the men of the yari ashigaru unit had finished getting into position, and now they charged, spears held low, ready to skewer the enemy.

It was the perfect first battle. More lenient circ.u.mstances one would be unable to find. The defenders were in chaos. In their hands, they still held bows, and some had yet to fully comprehend what was going on.

Even without the experience, they were able to feel what their commanders felt. The instinct of a wolf who sought to devour its wounded prey.

"RAAAAAAAAHHHHH!"

They screamed manically, committing themselves fully to the charge.

They hit, like a second volley of arrows, slamming the men up against the very wall they had believed would defend them. Lives were taken in an instant, and multiple injuries were caused. But more than anything, the true chaos of the battlefield was manifest, with all its screaming and noisy clashing of blades.

Miraculously, the old samurai commander was still on his feet, struggling to stay the ruthless points of two of Nakatane’s spearmen.

"SWORD FORMATION – WE’RE JOINING IN ON THE PARTY!"

Gengyo called out. His men responded instantaneously, it was the instruction they had been waiting for. Without even the slightest hesitation, their bows were cast aside onto the floor, and their swords were drawn, ready to charge.

The bow ashigaru that stood alongside them look startled at such a sudden transition and struggled to keep up.

"LET’S SHOW THEM HOW IT’S DONE! CHARGE!"

He roared, leading the charge, slamming across the hard stone cobbles, intent on securing the enemies smooth transition into hell.

Nakatane ran alongside him, his face wearing an eager smile. It was an absolute slaughter. And after their recent hard-fought victory against Toda, such a delicious meal of blood that was so easily delivered was most welcome.

The two men flitted past the spear-wielding troops before them, eager to get in on the chaos, not caring for who their target was.

There was a man who did not think so freely though. He had one goal from the very beginning. He had claimed he would, and by the gods he was keen not to go back on his word.

"OLDDDDDDDDDD MANNNNNNNNNNNNN!"

He called from across the battlefield, his blood on fire, eager to take down the biggest target that he had ever faced - a commander!

The old samurai heard his call, casually spitting out a mouthful of blood, as he pulled his sword from the spearman in front of him. He showed not a trace of fear on that worn face of his, accepting the challenge wholeheartedly.

They clashed, and two different fighting styles were immediately manifest. Morohira embraced his instincts, preferring a bestial style that insisted on absolute pandemonium. Whereas his opponent had been trained formally, and his movements were crisp and clean.

But his injury was nagging him. There was no way he could conserve the strength to deal with the viciously powerful strikes that were sending the most intense vibrations down those old arms of his.

After the third strike that he had blocked, his nerves ignored him, and his contracted muscles loosened, dropping the sword from his grip.

He watched it fall with a peaceful look in his eye. Holding his head high, without a trace of fear, he embraced his death, and his head was severed from his body in one magnificent sweep.

"RAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

Morohira let out a cry of pure adrenaline upon the successful hunting of his prey, as he stepped past the corpse and joined the rest in sentencing the few remaining defenders to death.

Nakatane and Gengyo cleaved their way through the sea of men, each covered in blood – even their teeth were stained with it. Though the thick liquid continued to mount, and threatened to impair their vision, they did not stop swinging, for they were men who though vastly different, still shared their love for a perfect victory.

Aritada and Yoritomo engaged in combat, wielding a weapon that only a month prior they could only dream of using. They fought back to back, as they always had, not giving a single inch of ground away to the enemy.

Under Gengyo’s leadership, they had trained with the sword vigorously and had improved vastly, becoming a force to be reckoned with.

Masaatsu drove his sword through the chest of yet another enemy, only to dodge to the side as someone else’s blade burst through the body. Their swords were withdrawn, and the body quickly fell to the floor, revealing a bloodied Kitajo, whose face was unusually serious, but instantly broke into a smile as he saw Masaatsu on the other side.

The yari ashigaru had their fill as well, poking holes in enemies whenever they were given the opportunity. And before long, not a single enemy soldier remained standing.

FWOOSH

Gengyo tilted his head lightly to the side as an arrow spun past. It seemed their allied forces were still firing.

"What’s going on up there?"

Okabe asked lazily, turning to one of his samurai for an explanation.

The man he had asked instantly went red, for he had been thinking the same thing just a minute before.

"Er... Forgive me, Okabe-sama... I do not know... Perhaps- er... nevermind."

He responded, completely fl.u.s.tered.

Okabe looked down on him with narrowed eyes, a little disgusted.

’This world is full of incompetent men – yes, it is indeed.’

He thought to himself, turning his eyes back toward the fortress, whose men had ceased returning their fire.

Glancing around the bloodied battlefield, Gengyo saw only two of their own men that had fallen – both yari ashigaru. It was an impeccable victory.

He raised his sword upwards.

"VICTORY GOES TO THE NIWA ARMY!"

The men reciprocated, raising their weapons high, responding with shouts so loud and fierce that their vocal cords began to feel as though they might tear.

"AWOOOOOOO!"

Even Nakatane himself had his sword raised in the air, shouting loud, burning the last of his adrenaline. Jikouji was at it alongside him. Never in their lives did they think the Niwa family name would be the one shouted when victory was claimed.

The proud Oda flag flapped by the side of the central administrative building, letting everyone know for miles around that this magnificent fortress, that was all but impenetrable, was the property of the Oda family.

A young man strode over to it, with an amused smile on his face. He lowered it the ground swiftly, as he pointed to one of the yari ashigaru to fetch him something.

The man returned with a blue pot of paint that had been lying beside one of the archery targets in the square, evidently left in haste.

He drew up the brush, and began painting with firm swift strokes like that of a calligrapher.

Nakatane peered over his shoulder with anticipation.

Within a moment, the kanji for ’red’ was painted, and a few seconds later, the kanji for ’feather’ was drawn alongside it. Together it read...

"What is that...?"

Okabe asked again of his retainers. A disturbance had been heard within the fortress – something of a loud shout, and then the Oda flag had fallen.

"It reads... Red Feather..?"

His retainer whispered alongside him.

"FOOL!"

He promptly smacked the man’s bare head for his incompetence.

"That’s a family name... Now tell me... Who the f.u.c.k is Niwa?"

//Author’s Note

So this was late. Really late. Sorry. I’ll say it’s been a busy day, which is true, but I could have had this prepared yesterday. Yet I did not, because I only had 3 hours sleep the night previous, and the words would not flow as I wished. Since this is a climactic part, I wanted to put more time into it. Tomorrow’s chapter will be a little late also, since I’m behind schedule. But I’ll fix that in a couple of days. Thanks for reading everyone! I hope it was worth the wait.