A Time Traveller's Guide To Feudal Japan

The formations were set and the order was given. In the early hours of the morning, the light of the sun still had not greeted them. The rain bounced off the conical shape of the ashigaru’s helmets. There was a grimness in the air and on their faces. They held their spears upright and waited.

The flatness of their simple formation was comfortable and uncomplicated. The peasants knew where they would have to move. That was it. That was the one change they could hope to make fluidly. It was the only chance they had at not being out manoeuvred by the Takeda forces.

Gengyo sat in the centre, on his horse, a few metres out onto the muddy field. His white horse pawed at the ground, dragging grass up by its roots.

A little ways to his left, Akiko and Rin took command, solemnly looking out over the battlefield from the height offered by their horses. A fiercely sharp naginata dr.a.p.ed from their arms. To the peasants under them, they were goddesses. To be so brutal yet so beautiful – they could be nothing else.

He calmly nodded to them, ensuring that they would not grow too tense from their nerves. They returned his gesture with a smile, understanding his intent. The responsibility that they had been given was something they seized readily. It was their chance to secure their place by his side by demonstrating their worth as leaders as well as warriors.

Beyond them, three ghosts commanded their treasured cavalry. Relics of the past, carrying with them the might of the ancients. It was odd. With their dusty armour donned, they looked far more lively than before. There was with them now an actual will to live.

To his right, Jikouji and Togashi shared solemn conversation, picking up on some of the more nervous of the peasants and offering advice where it was needed. Each General had a different way of leading and ensuring that morale remained high.

And then there was Morohira, in charge of his right-wing. He’d already terrified his men, it would seem. His sword was unsheathed and he slashed at the air, practising his cuts, grinning wildly. A beast of a man. Laced in through his wing were a few hundred veterans, and his trusted friends, with Sasaki and Rokkaku amongst them. The newcomers were affected by their aura and they knew themselves to be in for a bloody time – they were to take the front row, after all. None of them would flee. Not after the threats Morohira had delivered so punctually.

Everyone was ready and Shingen seemed not to be a man to leave his guests waiting. The vibrations of thousands of horse hooves told of their coming. The feared heavy Takeda cavalry, no doubt.

They tore up over the horizon, galloping at full speed, as though to charge into battle immediately. Either side of the centre of the cavalry, there sprinted a sea of infantry, all of them well armoured and experienced – professional warriors.

The rain and the soggy soil provided no obstacle for them. They utilised the whipping wind to lend fervour to their cherished banners, forecasting the mon of their Takeda clan. Four black diamonds on a red field. The Tiger had arrived.

A kilometer away, at the opposite side of the field, their charge finally paused and they made up their ranks fluidly with speed, such was their training. The dedicated bow samurai sat in front. There must have been three thousand of them at least. They nocked their arrows as one and without a single command needing to be said, they loosed.

"HOLD!" Gengyo barked. Matsudaira was hidden in the back. He would not make his appearance until Shingen made his. It was a struggle for the peasants to remain still as a spree of arrows dove into the dark grey clouds and plunged down towards them. They cowered instinctively, raising their hands in an attempt to protect their face. The elite Red Feather soldiers stared at them in scorn and pointed as the arrows plunged into the mud fifty metres away. It was a mere bluff.

The Takeda centre parted, and a group of imposing men thundered through. They only reigned in their horses when they neared the centre of the battlefield. It was obvious what they wanted – a parlay.

Gengyo dug his heels into the side of his horse and trotted forward. Against Shingen and his twenty generals, he went alone, as he had instructed his men that he would beforehand. The horse and human duo appeared so leisurely in their advance, taking as much time as they liked, vastly different to Shingen’s display of ferocity.

Shingen moved to the front of his generals, glaring at his opponent, judging him with critical eyes. With his mane of white hair and horns that extended out from his helmet, it was like watching a man meeting for a deal with the devil. He squinted, attempting to find even a shred of fear or weakness, but what he found instead was a monkly calm.

"Takeda Shingen, I presume? Unless I’ve stumbled onto the wrong battlefield. That would be embarrassing." He spoke easily and with a smile, flatting his horse’s ears as he patted his head with a gauntleted hand.

Shingen sat in silence for a few moments. This was not at all the man he had expected. He thought he would be greeted with a hardened monster, but it what he found was the opposite. "Miura Tadakata..? Am I to believe that man is you?"

"I sometimes ask myself the same thing," Gengyo replied cryptically, maintaining his smile.

The Tiger of Kai felt his lips curling into an unpleasant snarl. He could sense that he was being made fun of. "You’ve had your fair share of victories, but this is where it ends. There is no need to go through with this battle. If you surrender, and bend your knee to me, then you will be able to maintain what you’ve worked for. You will be General under the mighty Tiger of Kai."