A Time Traveller's Guide To Feudal Japan

He stepped inside of the ashigaru’s guard, slicing open his stomach. The man fell, his face a mask of pure terror. It was fitting, perhaps, that he met his end at the hand of devils, for he would be dining with them for eternity in hell.

Gengyo threw himself into reckless combat, moving faster than he ever had before. He did not make any attempt to appear human, and only moved as his body saw fit. He adopted a crouched posture, like that of an angry silverback, with his blade in one hand, as he launched himself into the mass of people, his blade slicing through the air rapidly, causing a network of death wherever it landed.

His body had lost all feeling, and his only desire was to cause destruction. They had thrown away concern for their own lives long before. Had they not, then they would have fallen to the first volley.

It was bestial. It was terrifying. It was downright inhuman.

"M-monsters!"

A man screamed, as he held his weapon out, uselessly projecting its blade. With ease, Masaatsu slipped under his guard, and separated his leg from his knee. He barely glanced down as he drove his sword into the soft flesh of the man’s chest.

Those surrounding him backed away. Similar scenes were happening all over.

"T-they... don’t die..."

A man whimpered, his voice choked up with fear. No matter how many times they stabbed at them, or how many wounds they made, the men did not slow, and only continued to hunt their lives.

Masses of corpses were at their feet. It was a terrifying display.

Unable to bear the horrific slaughter that they were witnessing, the few hundred matchlock ashigaru that remained started to rout, running off in all directions, doing whatever they could to escape their certain death.

It was only at the sight of those fleeing backs, and the lack of enemy presence in front of them that the men started to regain some semblance of their normal selves, as they dared to hope that they would live. But that in itself was dangerous. Their bodies were horrific messes, and with the adrenaline wearing off, the pain set in.

Gengyo punctured the same man over and over with his broken katana. The man had died long before, but lost to his rage as he was, and with no one else for him to kill, his frustrations were let loose upon the body.

Soon, his mind started to recover, dared to operate once more. And with it, he grew exhausted, and the blade slid from his grasp. He rolled from the corpse, and lay on his back.

His eyes were only slightly open, looking at the sky above them. It seemed night had fallen before they even knew it. They soon closed, as tiredness overwhelmed him, and he began to wish for a long rest.

...

...

PAT PAT

He felt something tapping his cheek.

"Oy! Lad? You alive?"

A familiar voice caused him to stir, and he looked up to see Nakatane, looking to be in a gruesome state.

"Niwa-san..?"

He whispered painfully, his throat raw from all the shouting he had done. His whole body ached, and he dared not look at the mess of his torso, knowing it to be riddled with bullet wounds.

He tried to sit up.

"Easy now."

Nakatane said, helping him slowly upward.

He glanced around. A few men were standing. But only a few. Around them was a field of corpses, and plenty of smoke.

He dared not hope that his comrades had made it alive, for the probability of them surviving that brutual offensive was close to zero.

’Imagawa would certainly think so too.’

His anger returned as he pictured that man’s greasy face, with his sunken eyes and trembling chins. He clenched his fist, only to immedietly unclench it after the pain it caused. It seemed a bullet had found its way into his upper arm.

A thought came, and he spoke, urgently.

"We need to get out of here!"

He hastily attempted to get to his feet, but he did so too quickly, and dizziness overwhelmed him. He would have fallen once more had Nakatane not been there to support him.

"Aye lad, take it easy though."

He nodded, trying to convey his understanding, but the urgency he had about him was not abated in the least. No doubt the Imagawa forces would be coming soon, and that was the last thing he wished to see. Should they be confirmed to be alive, then they would have to return to that fold, or else Toyone village would be tormented.

"The rest are over here."

He said, supporting Gengyo’s shoulder as he lead him through the smoke.

"...The rest?"

He questioned, repeating what their master had said.

A pitiful amount of men filled his vision as they drew closer. Barely 30 in number. Amongst them, he caught sight of Aritada, who’s eyes were red, and cheeks were stained with tears.

He looked toward him, a question present on his face.

Aritada shook his head in response.

It seemed Yoritomo had fallen. It was unsurprising, considering all that they had went through, but the loss still cut heavily into his heart.

He was pleased to catch sight of his father, who sat on a felled tree, panting heavily. He was in bad shape. Rokkaku were there too, and Togashi.

But no matter how hard he searched, he could not catch sight of his brother.

"Masaatsu... Where’s Masaatsu?"

"I’m sorry, lad..."

Came Nakatane’s apologetic response.

"I see..."

He looked down at the floor, feeling tears of his own begin to sting his eyes. His brother... his dear brother, who had cared for him so much. Rin would be heart broken. Fuku too.

He wished to fall to the floor then and there, and weep. His legs were weak, and it took a great effort to remain standing. But he knew, more important than anything else, was their need to leave.

If not, Masaatsu would have died in vain, and revenge could never be achieved.

"We have to go, Niwa-san... We have to."

He begged, trying to get him to spur the men into action. Any moment now they could be trapped.

"Aye, I know. Let’s go, men..."

He instructed, though there was no power in his voice. Their losses had been too great for them to feel anything at their victory. Some even found themselves wishing that they had died amongst their comrades.

They stood up, and walked, though so slowly that it was like they were not moving at all. None of them had the strength, and none had the energy. Each step was a great effort.

"One foot... In front of the other..."

He heard Nakatane whisper beside him, as he struggled for breath.

As he walked, Gengyo’s thoughts went toward a certain old man.

"Jikouji?"

He said, thinking aloud.

"Ain’t dead yet, youngin’."

He heard a voice come from behind him.

’Ah...’

He was grateful to hear that. He did not think he would have been able to deal with the loss of another close friend.

The hooves of horses sounded out behind them, as the cavalry arrived at the site of the battle. They spoke loudly. Too loudly for their tired ears. And they cared not for what they said. They merely made an effort to stay clear of their path, and they carried on walking, going ever deeper into the forest, putting as much distance as they could between them, and their new enemy.

Their pace was slow, and they walked for many hours without yet reaching the edge of the forest, and only when dawn rolled around did they finally make it. The first morning light shone off the patch of green. It was inviting. Too inviting. Unceromonously, the exhausted group of battered men collapsed to the floor, falling asleep almost immedietly.

...

...

They slept for a long time, and some never woke up again. It was truly a miracle that any one of them were alive.

Feeling a tickling across his face, as a small spider wandered all over him, Gengyo awoke from his slumber, squinting as he shielded his eyes from the bright sun.

His body ached, even more than it had before he had slept, and any attempt at movement felt like someone had shoved their hand in his stomach, and was playing with his warm intestines.

In the end, he settled for moving only his head, as he glanced around.

Morohira was already sitting up, lying his back against one of the trees behind them. He had a distant look on his face, as though he was deep in thought. Rokkaku sat right beside him, but it was as though the two were present in two different dimensions, as they spared not even a glance in each other’s direction.

Jikouji had removed his armour, and was inspecting one of his wounds with a look of great distaste on his face, and every now and then he uttered a m.o.a.n of agony – though he tried to keep it down, so as not to awake the rest.

"I guess... we live another day, eh Niwa-san?"

Gengyo said to the man lying next to him, attempting to come to terms with this new reality.

No response came, and he assumed the man to be asleep.

"Jikouji-san!"

He called out in a whispered shout, trying to get the old man’s attention. He glanced around like a curious bird, wondering who was calling his name. A warm smile lit up his face and he noted Gengyo’s head peaking out from amongst the long grass.

"Ah, you’re still alive lad?"

"Barely. Is it noon now? I guess I was only asleep for a few hours."

"Aye it’s noon. But you’ve been asleep more than a couple of hours, lad. A day, at least."

"My god... that long?"

He questioned, surprised. It was odd that so few of them were up, as well, and he grew worried about the man next to him.

"Niwa-san?"

He tried calling out to him again, beginning to worry after the amount of time they had been asleep.

"Niwa-san? Wake up!"

He said, shaking his shoulder lightly. There was still no response, and he turned to Jikouji for an explanation. The old man’s expression turned sad, and he remained silent.

"Niwa-san!"

Gengyo sat up, and turned him over, growing panicked.

His body was heavy, and difficult to move, but after a great effort, he managed to get him to roll over. His head swang lifelessly from the movement, and there was yet no response from the master.

It was only then that he caught sight of the gapping hole near Nakatane’s stomach, where the armour had caved in, and the shredded guts inside were visible.

"Niwa-san..."

Tears filled his eyes, and began to drift down his cheeks.

Despite his condition, Nakatane had supported Gengyo as they walked, when it was he that had needed the support far more. Because of the darkness of the forest, he was not able to see how poor of a condition he was in.

Right to his very last breath, the man had been good to him. In the face of Imagawa’s incompetence and Okabe’s malice, he had remained at the height of decency, fighting on so that his men could survive.

He was there to raise Gengyo up from his lowly position as a peasant. He had always treated him fairly, despite the difference in their status. He was even there as he fell down into the depths of hell, to grab his hand and bring him back up.

And now, such a man was gone. So many good men were gone. But, with the support of this comrade of his, who he had faced many adversities with, he had felt there was a road onwards. And now... Now he was not so sure.

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END OF VOLUME 2

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//Author’s Note

I apologise.

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