A Time Traveller's Guide To Feudal Japan

A little boy began to cry, overcome by fear, his bladder loosening onto the lap of his grandmother.

He was not the first either. Even a few grown women began to cry. Though these women were not armed, because of their softer nature, so in that sense their fear was to be expected.

That was not to say that the armed women felt no fear at all – quite the contrary. Fuku who was nestled amongst the crowd froze as she stared up at the great big bearded burly barbarians, who had their faces caked with dried dirt and blood, seeming to have never washed. And their armour was in no better state, some parts of the dou missing, revealing a hairy chest and a bare n.i.p.p.l.e.

...

...

"Do you really intend to THAT?"

Masaatsu cried in outrage.

"I do."

"But that’s madness! There’s no way that will work. Even for you brother, it’s certain death!"

A strange calmness overtook the young man as he grasped his brother’s shoulder.

"It’s all we have. Are you sure that’s exactly where he left it?"

It was Niiro who answered.

"I am sure. But with this, I’m of the same opinion as your brother. That can’t possibly work... besides your bow is much too big."

"I’ll make it happen. Do as I say, and don’t take any unnecessary risks. If they get within 50 meters of you, start to run. Got it?"

The men nodded doubtfully. The risk for them was minimal, but the young man’s intent was all but suicidal. Not a single one believed in his chances, but nor could they offer up a better solution.

"I will be off, then."

With his bow slung over his shoulder, and his quiver in hand, the young man slid back down the hill in which they had ascended, and plunged deeper into the forest. He ran at an all-out sprint, which raised some doubts as to whether he would even be able to cover the distance necessary. But there was no time to worry about limits. Time was of the essence.

With his parting, Niiro took command.

"The kid is insane, but we must do our part."

No one raised any complaints, and followed him down the other side of the steep hill, jumping over logs and weeding their way through bramble bushes as they neared the edge of the forest.

They counted to 60 in their heads, as they had been instructed, before stepping onto the grassy plain, and drawing their bows.

Range: almost 300 metres. They needed to pull the bowstring back as far as they were able to even make the distance. And even then, it was questionable as to whether they would hit anything.

The enemy’s unit was facing forward, and had not noticed as they emerged by their left flank.

Like a swarm of stinging bees, the arrows were released, high up into the air. They disappeared for a time, slowing down greatly, before gravity began to exert its will, and they plunged down toward the heads of the idle ashigaru.

The first arrow landed by the foot of a spear wielder, who jumped in surprise and fear, causing a disturbance that was noticed instantly.

With the attention of the unit captured, the remaining arrows proceeded to take at least five lives.

The enemy called out in rage, seeing their comrades fall to such a cheap blow, and spotting the aggressors standing, bows drawn, on the edge of the forest.

Toda wheeled his horse arrowed, tutting with distaste.

"What the f.u.c.k are they doing? Stupid insects..."

He had been relaxing in thought, letting his imagination take hold, thinking about the joyful tortures to come. Only to have his ruminating interrupted by a handful of men who couldn’t grasp the idea of defeat.

He waved his hand.

"Sanjo, deal with them."

"Yes, my lord."

His frail retainer nodded without hesitation, pondering what the most efficient way to deal with the bowmen would be.

’With calvary,’ he reasoned, ’this would be a piece of cake... but it seems now I must make a few sacrifices.’

"Peasant ashigaru, charge."

He said softly, as though it was a passing comment. The peasants looked at him angrily, knowing full well why they had been chosen instead of the guards. But it was not an order they could refuse, even taking too long to follow it could leave them in danger.

They detached themselves from the rest of the unit, as the spear and bow peasantry began to walk toward their opponents, planning to run faster only once the aggressors had released a second volley.

Such thoughts were futile however.

"Move faster, or we will also shoot you."

He spoke softly once more, and there was not a hint of threat in his voice. But the man was not joking. He would most definitely order his guards to shoot them down – and the guards would do so gladly.

They began to pick up the pace, facing a second volley – this one was much more accurate – and their numbers quickly dwindled. Only a single shot missed, and of the 50 ashigaru that had initially charged, by now, after two volleys, only 30 remained.

The bow ashigaru began to fire back, but Gengyo’s unit merely retreated behind the trees, only showing themselves once a shot was loaded.

It was a slaughter. The men did not even reach the trees. The unit that had trained in motion only grew more accurate the closer they got. It was a pointless waste of men. It was to the point that Niiro and the others could not even feel good about their victory.

"They all died."

Toda commented emotionlessly.

"They did not perform as well as I expected, my lord."

"Well, it’s fine."

"Perhaps we should merely move away. I dare say they will not stray too far from the trees, and it is not worth losing our guardsmen to such sc.u.m."

"Do what you want. We’ll have Ochi lend us some hors.e.m.e.n, and we can make a sport of killing them later."

The disciplined guardsmen marched a further hundred metres away, each in step with the other, creating rhythmic beating sounds as they moved.

"Tsch, what now?"

"It did not go quite as Miura-san expected... But I suppose we stick with the plan."

Niiro replied to the irritated guardsman’s question.

"Aye... But they’ve moved away."

"Then we will move closer. Let us sit outside of their range, and wait until Miura-san comes."

...

...

Ishiyama ran through the forest, katana in hand, hurdling over the many bits of debris like a furious rabbit. Drops of glistening sweat spun off him toward the ground, landing lightly, contrasting against his heavy footsteps that pounded the earth.

The men with him had long since fallen behind, but he cared not. Even if his heart were to burst, it would be preferable to being late to his lord’s side.

The sounds of battle did not seem to be getting nearer, and he ran ever more aggressively, pushing his legs as fast as they would go, even as they burned in protest.

His lungs had long since failed to supply the oxygen that he needed to his body, but that did not cause him to slow, instead, he sped up.

His helmet was burdensome, so he removed it. His armguards rubbed incessantly, so he cut them free. His sword weighed down his arm, so he cast it aside, drawing his wakizashi in its place.

A large patch of thorny brambles claimed to be an obstacle, but he simply powered through them, ignoring them as they tore at his clothes and armour.

His shaven head dripped with blood from the many branches that clawed at his scalp, but he felt no pain, only irritation as the droplets impaired his vision.

He caught sight of a blade flashing through the air, and his speed increased yet again as he drew nearer.

A gruesome man, wielding two katana bore down on a peasant, barring his path. He simply drove the short blade of his wakizashi through his neck, severing his life without even slowing.

He glanced around frantically, searching the red armour of his lord.

A mounted rider stood in his way, obstructing his vision, so he quickly hamstringed the horse, and plunged his blade through the fallen riders eye.

A more fearsome sight would be hard to find, as the red armoured Ishiyama glared around the field of battle, his face and teeth stained with the blood of his enemies.

He carried on, frantically looking for his master.

And then when a mountain stepped to the side, he caught sight of a familiar red armour. He saw the figure of Jikouji doing battle with a beast almost three times his side, attacking with a skilful series of strikes.

His speed was unmatched, and he left a graze on the man’s arm, making him twitch in pain. Yet a single swipe from his naginata, and the old man was sent flying, revealing the man he was so desperately trying to protect.

Nakatane was sat against a tree, clutching the deep wound of his shoulder, as blood continued to pour forth. Faint speckles of red could be found leaking from the corner of his lips.

Jikouji struggled to his feet on shaking legs, spitting a mouthful of blood from the broken ribs that he had received.

The air parted, allowing the snaking blade of a heavy naginata through. The old man raised his sword to protect himself from the strike.

But it was too late. His grasp of his sword was too infirm. He did not stand a single chance of defending against such a powerful strike.

"BASTARD!"

Ishiyama roared, using the small blade of his wakizashi to just barely deflect the strike that had been aimed toward the old man’s head.

His master recognised him instantly.

"Ishiyama... Why have you come?"

He asked through the weakest of breaths.

"Do not speak my lord! I will take care of this."

He did not turn around when he spoke, for that would be to hand away his own life. Instead, he stepped lightly around the mammoth warrior, his wakizashi held in a reverse grip as he focused intensely, trying to anticipate the next strike.

"But... Who is leading your men?"

He leaned back, barely dodging the lengthy naginata blade that had searched to claim his head, before swinging his legs, and regaining his balance, closing the gap with his dagger held firmly against the shaft of the polearm, as he attempted to strike toward the giant’s chest.

With his free fist, such an attack was easily defended, and Ishiyama was soon sent flying next to his master.

"The... boy... my lord."

He replied through shaking breath, forcing himself to his feet, ignoring the pain. He was in no better condition than Jikouji, but he gritted his teeth, and attacked as one with the old man backing him up.

"The boy..? Ah... Miura... Hahaha... the boy."

The master rolled the word around in his mouth, growing delirious from the lack of blood. He laughed to himself, wondering why when Ishiyama mentioned his name, did relief immediately follow.

The duo sprung forward, in a blinding whirlwind of speed. With his weapon, Ishiyama controlled the naginata, preventing the giant from using it to defend himself. Jikouji issued a lightning-fast combination, beating aggressive rhythms down the length of the solid metal pole, before he stepped inwards, using the full strength of his body to deliver a slash toward the mammoth’s abdomen.

SLSSHH

A tiny movement of the butt of the naginata blocked the strike, but for the first time that fight, the giant was forced back, leaving two deep trenches where his feet had once been.

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