A Time Traveller's Guide To Feudal Japan

Matsudaira watched the exchange pitifully. It was another instance of Imagawa being used by one of his subordinates.

’What did you do to offend him, young man?’

He wondered, feeling disgusted at the display. It was certainly not a contest for position, as they were a mere small-time force with 100 or so men. In fact, it was odd that any attention was given to such a unit at all.

He forced himself to look away. Getting himself too invested with the force’s plight would only make his guilt stronger when they died.

"We will do as you say, Daimyo-sama, and bring you glory upon the battlefield."

Nakatane said calmly. He had spent many years hiding his emotions as he was tormented so viciously by Toda. Jikouji admired his young master for his levelheadedness when the rest of them were so quick to anger. Even their promising strategist - who had come to their aid so many times before - was unable to keep his cool given this command.

"GOOD."

Was all Imagawa said, as he gestured forward, commanding them to charge.

It took all that he had in him to agree to such a demand. Life was a cruel affair for those without power. They were destined to be at the disposal of the strong. Recently, he had allowed himself to dream. Dream that such a path would soon end for them, and that, when it came time for his daughter to assume power, he would be able to give her all that he had earned, so that she would not experience the same abuse that he did.

For all his wit, and all his intelligence, at this moment Gengyo could not find a better solution. The two choices they had were those presented to them. To think, after all the struggling, after all the fighting, after all the thinking, it would be one of their own allies, in the end, who would see to their destruction.

Okabe wore that satisfied smile. What had they done to offend him? Was it perhaps because they dared to lead his men to safety? Was it really for a reason so petty?

’Ah, but what does it matter. When you wield that much authority, very few are able to question you.’

He lamented. They were doing so well. They had conquered the hurdles presented to them with ease. The men were close with one another, like one big family. Their morale was high, for they had taken steps to conquer their own hearts. And now they were met with such betrayal.

They were forced to step forward, one foot in front of the other, as their muscles contracted and extended, remembering such a common motion. They soon gained speed, and charged forward through the smoke.

’Was I wrong? Wrong to fight for a cause that was not my own?’

He wondered, as time slowed, and his mind drifted away from the battlefield. None of this seemed important any more. Even if they were to slay the enemy in front of them, there was still the enemy behind.

’The world... They would judge me to be the fool. The fault always lies in the hands of the defeated. Honour, it seems, is a foreign term. Perhaps I should have betrayed the Daimyo of my province before he betrayed me. Perhaps I should have joined the Oda?’

The wet soil clung to their feet, making their movements heavy. The world around them was oddly quiet and cold, as they listened to the sound of their own breath.

’Ha! That was not an option. Oda would have never trusted a traitor. The only true option would have been to distance myself from everyone. To stand close by those I knew to be my true allies. To reason with Niwa-san, and to take flee from a war that was not our own. To allow the destruction of the Imagawa.’

On concluding that thought, his foot hit the ground heavier, as his blank face - that lay emotionless, so confused by the sudden sabotage – regained its animation, and he narrowed his eyes, his eyebrows coming together, resuming that frown that he had thought he was rid of.

A demon inside him rattled against the chains, crying to be let out.

’Kasai... Kasai Gengyo... You finally understand, don’t you? It’s time to return to your roots.’

"Indeed... Indeed it is time."

His words were uttered quietly, but they drifted toward all the men. Their attention returned from their contemplating thoughts, and their ears perked, recognizing that young voice.

"It is time to seize control. It is time to embrace that which the world fears – that darkness within ourselves. For the world is corrupt anyway. We must allow our own grime to enter our blood and make it heavier, so that we can ignite a new fire that will burn stronger, and allow us to face any adversary."

His whispered words drifted into to their ears, and resonated with their hearts. Had they not experienced such a betrayal together, they would have worried that their leader had become a mad man. But they were ready. Ready to look at a new part of themselves.

Nakatane understood those words more than anyone, for it was a path that he had thought of walking for a long time, so that he might deal with the torments of Toda. But he had resisted. He had feared to look at what he was capable of, afraid that he would not be able to control it.

But now, before their certain deaths, there was nothing to lose. Would they die with blank faces, brought low by the petty words of someone else, or would they allow that demon free, so that in their final moments they might reign true chaos upon the world, and let the world know that they were here.

"REBEL!"

He shouted suddenly, energized.

"REBEL AGAINST THAT WHICH SEEKS TO RUIN US!"

He thought not before he spoke, he merely allowed the words to come of their own accord.

"REBEL, AND FEEL YOUR RAGE! RAGE AGAINST IMAGAWA! RAGE AGAINST ODA!"

They were men. Men of the finest sought. They had walked the path of honour, and it had lead them to a dead end. How could they not feel rage?

"AARGHHHH!"

Cries full of frustration rang out, as the ceased to care what others might think, and allowed their anger to take hold.

They did not realize it, but their speed increased. A body consumed by rage did not care about damage to itself. It only cared about the destruction of that around it.

Holding their spear in their hands. Whether bow ashigaru, yari ashigaru, or Special Forces, they all clung to a spear.

Through the smoke, ranks of matchlock units were revealed, the front row kneeling, so that those behind them could draw a shot as well.

They were so focused on their charge, that they did not realize that Imagawa had sent no men to follow behind them. It seemed the cavalry had been sent instead. They were merely a distraction, intended to slow the infantry and little whilst the cavalry was allowed in place.

The first volley was unleashed, hitting each of them, as the front rank fired. Their bullets pierced their flesh, embedding themselves under their skin. But they did not falter. Only those that had been unlucky enough to receive a fatal shot straight away, only they were the ones who fell.

The rest lowered their spears forwards, their faces a mask of pure rage and hatred.

The ashigaru panicked. They had been hit – some more than once – but they still kept charging. It was right of them to feel fear. The second volley went off, though was a little more disorganized than the first.

More bullets connected with their flesh, as they barely flinched. Yet more men had to fall, for their brains had been pierced, and they no longer had any control of their bodies.

"ARGGGGGHHHHH!"

They roared, drawing closer. There was only a single volley that had yet to be fired, and the enemy was almost upon them. A thousand matchlock ashigaru, left behind to deliver one final volley to the enemy, before they were commanded to make haste and flee.

The swordsmen had gone on ahead. Any attack they committed to would be their last. They did not have the advantage of range that the matchlocks did.

Some of the bullets flew through the forest past the Niwa army, and sent men on Imagawa’s front rank stumbling to the floor. It had been their intent all along, to fire deep in the smoke, where they knew Imagawa’s forces to be residing. Yet they were met with this suicidal charge. A charge that should have been defeated with ease, yet it still had not lost its momentum.

FOOSH FOOSH FOOSH

The final volley went off, and the two forces collided.

The Niwa men drove their spears in deep, barely slowing. The Special Forces men killed many with their initial charge, before casting their spears aside, and drawing the sword.

They whirled around, furious, covered in their own blood as they slashed widely.

"RAHHHHHHHHH!"

Pain only made them grow angrier, and madder, and did not slow them in the least. They were men that had cast aside their humanity, and allowed something more primitive to take hold. They were men that had absolutely nothing to lose, thrown away by those who they served. They were men that fully understood what it meant to feel rage.

They carved their way through as the forces crumbled before them. Mere ashigaru were not likely to slow them with ease. Their morale was too low, their thoughts too scattered. Faced with the single-minded determination to kill all that was in their way, they were terribly lacking.

With bullets gone from their guns, and mere bayonets on the end of their rifles, they attempted to swarm the enemy and it’s meagre numbers, to overwhelm them.

But their shallow strikes were not nearly enough. They were mere tickles when compared to the pain of a bullet.

Rokkaku, unfeeling, used all his strength, and cleaved a man across from his right shoulder to his left thigh, rendering him completely in half. Understandably, those ashigaru that had seen such brutality started to back away, but there was little chance of escape.

Morohira wielded his katana and that of one of his fallen comrades, a whirlwind of fury, as his own blood made its way up past his lips, yet he still fought with the ferocity of a lion.

Nakatane had multiple bullet holes scattered around his chest, and fighting on proved difficult, as his body started to rebel. But spurred on by his anger, he did not yield to the need for rest, and slashed men apart as though they were made of straw.

Jikouji fought alongside him, brutally efficient, fighting like a man half his age. The culmination of his years of training was truly manifest, and every time he moved, another man fell to the floor.

Yoritomo and Aritada had thrown themselves into this campaign, truly believing that it was their future. That it was their chance to live their dreams. They had held the various Daimyos in high regard, believing them to be the height of honour. And now, their beliefs had proved to be false, and they were left empty. Only rage could fill that hole in their hearts, as tears clung to their faces, and they wailed in despair, cutting down foes left and right. It was truly a terrifying sight.

Maniacally, some of the ashigaru attempted to reload, but there was far from enough time, and their own men were in the way – a foolish endeavour. Some let shots off in their fear, actually hitting men of their own, but they still continued, doing anything they could to stop these savage beasts from reaching them and tearing them to pieces.

//Author’s Note

One more to come.

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