A Time Traveller's Guide To Feudal Japan

"Lord!" A messenger breathlessly stumbled into the main hall of Kiyoshi castle, tripping on the last of the steps as he did so, all but rolling into the room, the letter falling from his grasp and out onto the floor in the centre of the room, interrupting a game of shogi.

His clumsiness was regarded with amus.e.m.e.nt, as the two teens put their game on hold.

From his casual dress - with his hair falling all over in a messy bird’s nest and his kimono crumbled and creased - one would not expect him to be the master of this castle, and Lord of the entire Owari province. In his short years of life, he had already accomplished more than most men did in their entirety, even surpassing his father, and finally unifying his province.

"Now now, Suruga-kun, as I keep telling you, it is better to have a message delivered slowly than not at all." The young man purred in amus.e.m.e.nt, leaping to his feet energetically. It had grown tediously complicated at this point in the game, and their clumsy attendant was a welcome distraction.

He was not a tall man. Average height at best, perhaps a little small. Nor was he particularly handsome. He had a very normal looking round face. His hair was shaved on the sides, and long elsewhere, as was the samurai tradition – only he neglected to pull it all tidily into his top knot. His prowess certainly did not lie in appearance.

"So, what do we have here? More letters from the Takeda?" He scooped up the scroll lightly, eyeing the mon that sealed it. "Oh... Now who might this be?" It was not the familiar Takeda mon, with four black diamonds assembled in the shape of a rhombus, all on a red plane. No, in fact, he didn’t recognise it at all. He would have hoped that he knew every emblem of every notable force in Japan, including the rebels and the ikki factions.

"Any thoughts Suruga-kun?" He asked, waving it in the timid young man’s face, who was still sprawled out on the floor, looking to be on the point of tears, though in appearance he seemed more refined than his Lord himself, his hair done splendidly, and his kimono immaculate.

There had been discussions with the Takeda in recent times, ever since the battle of Okehazama. It had been regretful that they had not managed to end the Imagawa there and then, but it would have been too much to hope. And so, they had worked to secure a few alliances to try and even the playing field.

The talks with the Takeda had been more humorous than anything, with them both sending one another scathing replies, refusing to give proper terms, but what mattered is that there was indeed communication happening between them, despite the Imagawa-Takeda alliance.

"Let me have a look." The other youth, Hirate, plucked it from his hand. He stood at least a head taller, and was casual in his treatment of his Lord. A handsome boy, by all accounts. He held it up towards the sunlight, squinting at it, trying to discern what clan it belonged to. It was a hopeless endeavour regardless – his knowledge of the different mons was far more lacking than his Lord’s. He handed it back with a shrug, sitting back down on the cushion lazily, stifling a yawn. "Just burn it I suppose, it’ll be belonging to one of those ikki rebels. Not worth involving yourself with them."

"Mm..." Nobunaga stroked his chin, still staring at the scroll. "Ah, thank you Suruga-kun. You may go." His messenger was still kneeled on the tatami, still terribly ashamed with himself.

"I’ll be off then, Lord." He stood up and bowed once more, before leaving a little more carefully, taking care to descend the steps in a proper manner.

Nobunaga sat back opposite his opponent, crossing his legs at the small wooden table, reluctant to put the little scroll down, thoroughly intrigued.

"Aren’t you going to burn it? Or are you looking for an excuse to forfeit?" Hirate taunted, leaning back onto his hands, looking around the room lazily. It had been a far more grand space before they moved in. Now it was just a large room filled with wooden beams, and floored with tatami. Their small table was all that remained. His Lord was eccentric in strange ways.

"Watch your tongue, Hirate. This letter here," he waved the scroll in his face with a grin, "is far more interesting than beating you in the same way over and over again."

"Tsch... I’m getting better, aren’t I?" By his eyes, they were at least level at the moment.

"No, worse." His young master responded, swiftly moving his knight forward, and capturing his gold general.

"What..!?" Hirate stared at the board, wide eyed. How had he not seen that move? It was so obvious... He was sure he’d analysed the board sufficiently. He looked back up at Nobunaga, seeing the grin on his face. Had he cheated? No... It couldn’t be, he’d had his eyes on the board all the time. Desperately he focused all his attention on the board, trying to solve this riddle.

Nobunaga had already moved past that, and was carefully peeling back that mon, committing it to memory. A single red feather on a black background. He began to read it out loud, more for the intention of distracting Hirate than anything else.

"My name is Miura Tadakata – oh, that’s good, isn’t it Hirate? One must always introduce themselves first." The commentary was far from being necessary, but he enjoyed the increasing level of frustration that was manifesting on his friend’s face. "And I am the new Daimyo of Mikawa province... what?" They both paused, shocked at those words, looking towards each other in surprise, completely setting everything else aside.

Nobunaga began to read on, least he declare that statement a jest. "A day prior to writing this letter, I set upon Shigeto castle with an army of one thousand five hundred men, and drove my sword through Imagawa Yoshimoto’s chest."

"What?" Hirate repeated. "That can’t be... Can it?"

"Stranger things have happened, Hirate." Even his youthful heart that was so accustomed to excitement was beating fast. They had been preparing for such a time, worrying about thwarting Imagawa’s second invasion, and now they received a letter declaring that such a man did no longer existed.

"I will cut through the pretences, Oda Nobunaga," he continued his reading, holding the drawn scroll with shaking hands, "you have my interest. You’ve felt my presence before, when I was a lesser man, capable only of conjuring a wall of flame."

That single sentence caused him to pause, remembering back to that day, and how that damnable wall of flame had sprung up, as though brought about by the will of god. He recalled those eyes that stared back at him. The eyes of a tiger, bright and furious. A single young man had drawn his attention, perhaps he was even the same age as he. Surely it was not the same man? That would be far too strange.

"Shingen is one of the old monsters of Japan, but I will not lose to him. I ask not for your help, but for your presence. Bare witness to a new age, and think carefully."

Speaking those final words, he shook his head, and dropped the scroll down in front of him with a sigh. "Now that... that was a surprise," he stated light-heartedly, trying to disguise how unsettled he was. "Miura Tadakata? Have you heard that name before?"

Hirate shook his head.

"No? I don’t think anyone will have. There’s something strange about all this, Hirate. I have a feeling. No, I’m not sure quite how to put it... Well, I suppose I’ll try: I have a feeling that this man should not exist." He slowly held the letter it the flame, tilting it as it caught, to give the hungry fire more fuel. Before long, it was a cloud of ashes that covered their board, and with a light breath, he blew them all away.

"So, what do we do? Ignore it?"

"We cannot. Imagawa was enough to worry us. How can the creature that gobbled him up be any weaker?" He paused a moment, considering the man’s words. "No, we will go, Hirate. He did not ask for us to fight on his behalf, but we will summon our troops nevertheless. We will watch the Tiger of Kai fighting this Miura Tadakata, and once they weaken each other, we will sweep in and attempt to crush them both."

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