A Time Traveller's Guide To Feudal Japan

It had rained mere minutes ago. A light shower, but it was enough to refresh the stale summer air. Gengyo wandered the empty streets under the night’s sky in a simple kimono, just like what a merchant might wear. His hand had been tended to and stitched and they had given him herbs for the pain, but still there was that dull throbbing and at times he could have sworn his hand was still attached.

He whistled a tune softly to himself, stepping his way across the slick stones. He recalled how quickly his men had come once they had found out his return. How quickly his inner circle had learned of his injury and how volatile their reactions were.

Matsudaira had come first, bursting into the room he was being treated in. He had given his Grand General a friendly smile, but the man ignored it and continued to look aghast.

"How..?" He’d said, his words coming out as no more than a whisper.

Gengyo had shrugged in reply. "I thought it preferable to being killed. There is something about death that strikes me as being awfully boring."

"Nobunaga had this done to you?" Matsudaira had moved closer to the bed, as the doctor shot him an irritated look, cleaning out Gengyo’s wound. "Where is he now? The bastard! He will not be treated lightly for what he has done. I will salt his flesh and flay his skin for what he’s done to you."

"He’s dead, Matsudaira, calm yourself. By my hand. The one I still have attached. He has already paid dearly for what he has done, and now, by accident, there is one lesser player to worry about in this game of ours. You and I can focus on our tasks."

And then Rin had burst in, weeping, her face stained with tears as Akiko, held her arm tightly, her own face a mask of sorrow. "Nii-san! Thank goodness! Thank goodness, thank goodness, thank goodness!" She buried her head in his chest and with that the healer finally sighed and gave up, deciding to move away and wait out their visit.

Gengyo raised an eyebrow at the reaction of his little sister. When everyone else was cursing Oda, she was thankful. "Thank goodness? Your brother has lost a hand," Gengyo said, perplexed.

"Stupid!" She hugged him even tighter at that. "I’m just glad Nii-san is still here. When Akiko told me Oda had betrayed us... I was sure... something bad. But even against an army of two thousand, you did everything you could to live. I’m glad. So glad, Nii-san. After Masaatsu... I couldn’t. Not you too. As long as you are still alive, I’m happy."

"Heh," Gengyo had broken into a smile at that. "With only one life to live, I’ll cling onto it like a drowning rat on the last bit of floating wood, rest assured, little sister. Akiko too, I would never leave you behind."

Jikouji stuck his head around the door. "Yamagata has woken up," he informed them and with that Gengyo had breathed a sigh of relief. Losing a strategist of Yamagata’s calibre would have been a wound almost on par to losing a hand.

"All right, you’ve said what you need to. I would ask that you leave now whilst I tend to the wound of my patient. If you’re not careful, you’ll be leaving him to bleed out," it was then that the doctor’s patience wore thin and he stepped in to begin shooing everyone out the door.

Matsudaira, Rin and Akiko all looked to Gengyo. No matter what the doctor said, it was always Gengyo that they knew to be in charge, but he had nodded to them. "Go. I’ll dine with you later. Let the doctor do what he needs to."

"I am afraid I cannot condone what you just proposed, Miura-dono. You must stay here, in this bed and rest for a few days at least. You may try to laugh it off, but the wound you took is far from insignificant. Major veins have been severed, not to mention the nerve damage," the doctor said, making sure that his words could be heard by those close enough to Gengyo to enforce such advice.

"We’ll make sure he does as he’s told," Akiko assured the doctor, bringing Rin out with her towards the door.

Matsudaira had his mouth hung open, as though he had something to say, but he could not find the words and opted instead for a bow and afterwards, he withdrew.

And then began the painful part for Gengyo, as the doctor cleaned his wound and went about repairing what was left of his arm. He was pleased then that there was no one to see.

Of course, Gengyo had promptly ignored the doctor’s insistence that he rested. As soon as the man had left, he had dressed him and left too. He hoped that his absence would not be discovered, but either way, he felt his small act of insolence to be worth it.

Even without that extra hand, he still prowled around the city like a tiger.

Above, the sky flashed with lightning and then thunder rumbled, heralding the coming rain. He had to smile. The rain was his favourite weather. When the fat droplets of water hit his wound, it stung, but it was a rejuvenating pain. It woke him up and it heightened his senses.

He looked to the clouds and grinned, as the water plastered his hair back against his head. Triumph ran through his veins. He had defeated a man heralded as the greater leader in Japanese history and he had done so against such impossible odds. He could still hardly believe it.

As a modern man, he would never have dreamed he had such potential. He wondered then, just how many other people there were, in that modern world, who had the capabilities to be conquerers but would never know, confined to a system of stable peace and subtle tyranny.

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