A Time Traveller's Guide To Feudal Japan

Shingen was too stunned to flee. Even if he were able, what was there to return back to? His army would be demolished. There would be nothing left. He was completely and utterly defeated. He could not even bring himself to climb up from his stool to confront the band of attacking cavalry, brandishing their Oda flag.

The amount of hidden cards this Miura had played was unfathomable. From the start, the information he had was lacking. This was the momentum unique to the unknown – those that had been operating in the shadows.

"Hah..." A dry chuckle escaped his lips and his head fell into his hands. There had been everything to play for, but now there was nothing left. He would have regretted coming here at all, and bothering to challenge him, had he not felt so alive. This was by far the most thrilling battle he had ever fought.

His bodyguard moved out, shouting, attempting with their lives to slow this attacking force. Their efforts were futile, but nevertheless, their loyalty was commendable. As the blades came in search of his life and his men fell around him, Shingen looked upon the last asset he had. That keyhole formation that he had worked so hard to defend. That was his only hope at survival, or even at victory, and yet, by the hands of a single man, even that was beginning to crumble.

He watched Akiyama fall from his horse, and then Hara after him. One by one his Generals were massacred. All that he had built up through his life was washed away with a series of easy strikes. His men began to surrender. Their swords clattered to the floor. He did not blame them. The fire in his heart had completely died. He accepted defeat completely.

"Takeda Shingen... You’ve been a thorn in my side." It was a second prodigy that came to claim his life. The Oda Nobunaga that had overturned Imagawa’s suffocating attack and sent him scurrying with his tail between his legs. It was almost unfair how young he looked. Had it not been for this Miura, then he might have gone on to be a storm that all of Japan could not quell.

"Do it cleanly, or give your blade to a man that can." He spoke clearly, his voice weaker than it normally would have been. He removed his helmet, and held his head forwards, offering his neck.

"Worry not. I would not have you die at the hands of anyone less than a Daimyo. You’ve been a menace to my Oda clan, and you’ve committed foul acts aplenty... However, you have my respect."

Shingen did not bother to reply. His eyes were already closed, waiting for death. The honourable words brought warmth where he felt he might have been undeserving. The air was still, and he thought he could hear the sword swishing through the air. Cold steel patted his neck, and it was all over.

"..? Nobunaga? What are you doing?" Hara asked incredulously, confusion in his voice.

Those words were enough to tell Shingen that he had not yet parted from this world, and he opened his eyes, raising his head, demanding an explanation.

Nobunaga had his lip curled and his eyebrows furrowed in annoyance. "Damn it!" He cursed. This was his chance to remove the Takeda from the map entirely, but yet when his weapon was finally poised to take his head, he could not do it. "That bastard is testing me... I’m sure of it. If I kill you and take all the glory for myself, it will come back to bite me."

The Takeda Daimyo stared back at him. The worries of the living were quite troublesome, it would seem. "I do not believe that he is so petty. I have spent this entire day doing battle with him. Every move was perfectly calculated and filled with reason. He would not need to resort to such underhanded politics." When Nobunaga opened his mouth to interrupt, he raised his armoured hand to quiet him. "However, now that you have stilled your blade, I would consider it a great honour if you allowed me to meet him."

His sword drifted down from over his head, the will to kill displaced by the odd question. He found himself looking towards his advisors, not immediately sure what to respond.

"No way!" Hara barked. "He’s Takeda Shingen! This is definitely a trap. If you don’t kill him now, then you’ll regret it. I’m sure of that."

"Hoh... It is flattering to know that I have instilled such fear." Shingen purred.

"Shut up, you bastard!" Easily provoked, Hara swung his fist to strike him.

"Calm down, Hara! You’re making a fool of yourself." Nobunaga held him back. He valued his young friend immensely, but when it came to the more delicate matters, he was often worse than useless.

"I’ll acknowledge your request, Shingen, if you remove your katana and wakizashi and hand them over to me. I have a feeling Miura will want to meet you as well."

"Done." He was not one to be caught up on the small details. He drew his beloved blade and dropped it into the mud without second thought, dropping his wakizashi on top with a clatter.

Even the unconventional Nobunaga was surprised at the ease in which he parted with his weapon. Most men would not even sleep without it. They shared a stronger bond with their sword than they did with their own wives.

"A mount! Someone get him a mount!" He ordered. There were over a hundred Takeda men littering the remnants of the headquarters, some of which had been slain in the saddle. A disgruntled soldier dismounted his horse and trudged over to one of these dead riders, dragging him from the saddle and dumping him unceremoniously in the mud.

He handed the reigns to Shingen briskly. "Thank you." He murmured, unused to having to show gratitude, but feeling it was necessary nevertheless.