A Time Traveller's Guide To Feudal Japan

He landed one final punch, shook his bloody fist, and stood up on shaky legs.

The toll the fight had taken on him had not been light, and it was no exaggeration to say that he’d used everything he had.

The crowd were still in an awed silence at this point, glancing from the bloody body of Kyougoku, up at the mangled mess of cuts and bruises that was Morohira.

Though he was unsteady on his feet, and exhausted beyond belief, he was still forcing his body to perform an action, and slowly his arm travelled upwards.

It reached the peak, and a clenched fist was shown, signifying his victory.

It was only then that the people remembered how to utilise their voices, and cheers erupted from all sides.

Even those that did not support him at first cheered for him. They were awed by the willpower demonstrated by a man that was at an overwhelming disadvantage, and had sustained injuries that most of them could not bear, and still gone on to win the fight.

"GOOD FIGHT MIURA-SAN!"

They called.

A small smile lit up Morohira’s lips, as he received the approval of his people.

He then began to grow faint, and shaky, truly having used all he had.

But as he was about to fall to the ground, he felt an arm move to support him.

He turned to steal a glance, and noticed Gengyo with a complicated look on his face.

He forced some words out of his lips, to try and still the concern that he knew his son felt.

"I won son... We won."

Seeing the state of his father, so brutalised from the fight, yet still caring about his family first and foremost, his eyes began to water, and before he knew what he was doing he had the old man embraced in a tight hug.

"I’m proud dad... Really proud. You’ve saved our family."

Caught off guard by his son’s embrace, he still found himself smiling moments later. The familial bond that they felt, strengthened only by overcoming an adversity together, was a moving feeling, and one that would make even the coldest of men light up with a smile.

Fuku and the rest of the family were busy stumbling their way into the ring, as much of a mess – if not more – as Gengyo had ended up being.

He stepped away from his father, satisfied, a grin still firmly planted upon his face, and his place was immediately taken by an emotional Fuku.

Her face was awash with tears that continued to flow, yet a smile was still struggling to make its way through. She flung herself toward Morohira, forgetting his weakened state as she kissed him again and again, allowing his spouse to get an understanding of the great relief that she felt.

Masaatsu and Rin made their way to Gengyo’s side, watching on the scene with gentle smiles.

All the complicated emotions that were passing through their hearts made them feel older than they were.

Rin leaned her head onto Gengyo’s chest, using his sleeve to dry her tear-stained face, before hugging his arm tightly.

He gently stroked her head, fully understanding what she was feeling right now, for though he was much older than she, it was a set of emotions new to him, and ones that he felt immense gratitude for being able to experience.

Masaatsu hand patted Gengyo’s shoulder a couple of times, and they shared a knowing look. He appeared to be in a much better state than he had been earlier, as his belief in his father had proved itself not to be ungrounded, and despite the odds, his old man had triumphed. There was no experience in the world that could bring a young man greater pride.

The cheers of the crowd, a sniffling Rin, and an energetic Fuku. Though not what Bach might have thought to include in one of his Concertos, it was certainly a symphony of sound that seemed like perfection to all present.

Nakatane watched over the scene with satisfaction. These were his people, and this was his village. They had triumphed over the unrest caused by a member of the neighbouring village, and had once more come together as they should.

Akiko felt herself becoming emotional as she observed the youthful vigour with which Fuku and Morohira held each other, and she wondered whether such a scene would ever exist for her.

Her father stood up a moment later, addressing the crowd, and feeling a sense of satisfaction in the words that he spoke.

"Hear me, people of Toyone. This man before us is Miura Morohira."

A round of cheers greeted his words, as the crowd called the name of the victor.

"In the sight of all those present, he has triumphed in his duel over Kyougoku Suemochi."

Another set of cheers sprang to life, as the crowd cursed Kyougoku, and his lack of honour during the duel.

Gengyo could not help but shake his head at the fickle nature of the masses.

"Not only that, he did it when the odds were entirely stacked against him!"

The cheers rose once more, but he continued to speak over them.

"And as per the conditions of the duel, Miura-kun is hereby cleared of all charges, and the brute Kyougoku is hereby exposed to be a liar!"

The crowd grew ever more hateful toward the downed Kyougoku, some reaching out toward him.

"Sc.u.mbag! Lying about shit like that!"

Though it may be an unseemly change of attitude to you, to the people of that time the duel was a sacred rite. If one were to fight for an idea, and be victorious, it would only be the case if the gods willed it to be so.

Four of Kyougoku’s underlings had to cut into the ring, and carry their unconscious ally away through the crowd. The people were dying to litter his body with a fresh batch of bruises, but Nakatane made sure that the men were allowed a path through the crowd, for it was the honourable thing to do.

With that, he announced the conclusion of that night’s event, along with something extra.

"As thanks to Miura-kun for a splendid fight, my own personal medical team will be tending to him."

A surprised noise was uttered by the crowd, before they began to nod. It was a great honour, but it was likely the most appropriate thing to do.

He then began to disperse the people, before walking toward Morohira – who was currently being looked after by Fuku – to offer his compliments.

"You fought bravely Miura-kun. Very bravely indeed. It is rare to see a man go to such lengths for the sake of victory."

Morohira listened politely, and did his best to respond despite the pain it brought.

"Thank you... very much... lord."

Nakatane nodded his understanding, as he realized how painful it must be for him to talk.

"Your style of fighting is remarkable indeed... That final display, after you disarmed him? Splendid, truly splendid."

The wounded man nodded his appreciation with a slight smile and a nod, for that was all he could manage.

Of course, the master was not going to take offence at such a gesture.

"You’re likely one of the best unarmed fighters in all of Mikawa. It’ll be an honour to have you serve under me when we begin our invasion on the Oda."

A weak "yes sir," was said in response.

Then, the master turned to his sons, evaluating them once more in turn, wondering if they held any of the skill that their father had.

He spoke to Masaatsu first, noticing his height and broad shoulders, and nodded to himself at the intensity and firmness of his gaze and stature.

"You seem to be a strong lad. Do you hold any of the skill that your father has?"

Masaatsu bowed lightly, receiving the lord’s question.

"My father has taught me a few things, but as of yet I remain untested, so I dare not say."

He once more found himself nodding inwardly at the humbleness of the boy’s response. He had a grace unbefitting of a peasant.

He glanced briefly a Rin, making a remark in his head on her beauty, before turning to Gengyo.

He paused a little, not entirely sure of what to say.

"Well, I suppose this turned out as you expected, eh?"

"As I hoped it would, perhaps. Not exactly as I expected. I realized today that it is just as foolish to attempt to predict too much as it is not to predict anything at all."

An eyebrow was raised in response to those words that contained a degree of profundity that was unbefitting of one so young.

"You have wisdom beyond your year’s child. This, and how you’ve spoken to me earlier. I cannot help but wonder, did you perhaps have a teacher? Someone who taught you in the ways of philosophy?"

Gengyo wondered quite how to reply to that. To the people that he respected, he made a point to be as honest as possible. The true answer would be, yes, he had teachers as a child. But none had taught him in the ways of philosophy or the like.

"No, I’m afraid not. I give my thanks for your high appraisal of me – though I fear I might be undeserving."

Nakatane laughed at that. He’d handled the compliment with a good degree of grace, though it was quite different to that of his brother. He patted his shoulder good-naturedly, before suggesting that it was perhaps time that they retired for the evening.

The crowd had already begun to disperse, and soon they began to follow. Akiko, Nakatane and their guard mounted their horses and rode back toward the mansion – though of course not before leaving their farewells.

Before she left, Akiko had managed to slip a whisper into Gengyo’s ear as she passed, reminding him of their promise.

Gengyo had looked her in the eye and nodded seriously. He owed her a great debt, and he would make sure to repay it.

Rin had noticed such an exchange and frowned, wondering what kind of relationship her brother held with a noble’s daughter.

The two boys supported their father – all but carrying him – back to their home, and half an hour later, a team of three medical specialists came to review his injuries.

Holding a certain curiosity as to how medieval medicine worked, Gengyo opted to remain behind and oversee the medical procedure.

One woman perceived this as a slight, and mentioned as much.

"Do you really think the Lord would want us to harm your father? There’s no need for you to stay and protect him."

In response, she had been met with a shaken head.

"No, I’m merely curious as to how a doctor operates."

She had raised an eyebrow at that, seemingly still not believing him, but had chosen to remain silent, merely getting on with her task.

A few stitches were required in places, and all sorts of injuries were bandaged. Care was taken not to wrap anything around Morohira’s chest, to allow his broken rib to heal properly.

And before long they were done, the conclusion marked by a smiling Fuku bringing them a tray of rice balls – which they graciously accepted – to thank them for their hard work.

They headed out soon after, and the family were left alone, gathered in a small room around the bed in which Morohira lay.

Gengyo breathed a sigh of relief, which was soon reciprocated by the other members of the family. They were glad the whole thing was over, and exhausted besides.

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