"What Is Best In Life?" - A Shogun II Hojo AAR [Updated: 27/07/2015]

[McScottish]

Well this friendship with Ujimasa has Ichirou going places. I doubt they'll all be good but definitely interesting. Good update.

Hope we see more of the sensei, I feel he is going to be important in making our protagonist a man. But what are Ujimasa's reasons for all of this?

Both so suspicious! Do there need to be reasons for this? Can't a guy just help a guy out in the world of Feudal Japan?

Thanks for the comments though, I hope not to disappoint.

[Caillagh de Bodemloze]

I'm afraid I agree with the chorus of suspicion - I'll be surprised if Ujimasa's just helping Ichirou out of the goodness of his heart - but I think that's a good thing. I'd have a much harder time believing in Ujimasa as a character if he didn't have some kind of reason for his behaviour. And given your writing skills, McScottish, I'm expecting that reason will lead us to an interesting story!

[Alwyn]

Great chapter! I like the idea of starting with your protagonist as a child and the way that Ujimasa compares the use of a brush to the use of a blade.

[McScottish]

Sorry for a distinct lack of updates; I shall remedy this soon, and with my Empire AAR too, things have just been pretty hectic in RL at the moment...but fear not, soon my friends...soon.

[McScottish]

Oh, and just as a couple of tasters...

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

[McScottish]

Chapter I, Part II ~ Jūgatsu, Tenbun 17 (February, 1548)

Tenbun Seventeen was, for the Hojo-shi most of all, a year of blood and the loss of loved ones; battles were fought across several provinces, the weak but fierce Satomi resisting at every turn. It is said that when Kazusa was taken, their last stronghold and a refuge they had believed was safe, that even the women and children of the clan slit open their bellies in defiance or threw themselves off of the walls to die swiftly or in crippled agony.

Led by Kasahara Ujitane, his brother Kasahara Tokimasa becoming lord of Izu province in his absence, Ujiyasu-tono was assured victory over the fools of the Satomi – the head of Satomi Ujitzugu, the last and youngest daimyo of the clan, bought to be placed before Hojo Ujiyasu wrapped in one of the horo of his personal guard...or so they say; having seen the head myself, I can attest that it was at least there, and that Ujitane was reward well for his services to lord and clan.

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

The Satomi, destroyed as they were in the winter season of the year, an important and serious event in the glorious history of my clan, matched an event of my own that would eventually come to change the life of this five-and-ten year old samurai; my appointment as page and personal servant to Inomata Shuichi – head of the Inomata family and father of the twins with which I had trained alongside now for over three years.

Inomata Shuichi was a warrior akin to my Grandfather, a sturdy and honourable man who believed that a samurai was no complete unless he could write as well as he could fight, or recite poetry as well as he sharpened his blade. Often he would come and view us – Ujimasa-sama, the twins and I – as we trained together in the arts and skills that would see us either survive on the battlefield or fall. In the case of Harumi-san, the only female among us, she often partnered with me and we would duel with the naginata until we both were sweating and dishevelled, but happy and light all the same.

It was after we had completed our training for the day, the chill winter winds biting our pale skin as we left the training hall, that Shuichi-sama placed a hand on my shoulder and I turned to face him in the ankle-deep snow; he was tall and probably would have been handsome, had not a sword caused a faded scar that had nevertheless twisted his mouth permanently into a crooked sneer. As his dark eyes looked me over, his fingers silently massaging my aching shoulder, I bowed my head and waited for him to speak. Out of the corner of my eye I could see Ueda-sensei watching us, but he did not move so much as an inch.

“Ichirou-kun,” he cooed, his voice higher than I would have expected from one of his countenance, “a need has come over me for someone to assist me in my life, to accompany me on the field of battle, and to provide me with all I should need.”

In my mind I already knew what he would say, what he was asking, understanding that this vague statement was an offer and not just idle conversation; my head went lower, my loose topknot no longer able to touch the ground for I had grown taller in three years of life, and now unquestionably towered above Ujimasa-sama and Harumi-san, her brother Sora-san still inches taller than I.

“You offer me this post, tono?”

“Yes, I offer you, the only scion of the Hitegawa, a chance to serve the Inomata and gain both experience and renown in service to us.”

He did not mix his words, direct and without fear – a sign of a true samurai – and his scarred face seeming almost mocking, completely different to his soft, almost maiden-like, tone.

“I must speak with my Grandfather...” came my hesitant words, tumbling out before I could stop them, showing that I was not altogether captivated by the offer, “...but I believe it shall be so.”

This was, at the time, all he needed to know, and he walked away happily with his children; it did not seem well that Ujimasa-sama was left with a sour look on his angular face, or that Ueda-sensei only then slunk back into the dōjō with a shake of his head.

My Grandfather on the other hand was overjoyed, his opinion of the Inomata higher than the Heavens themselves, his words for Shuichi-sama – a man he had fought beside and respected as both a scholar and a warrior – unending.

“Take this chance, Ichirou!” He demanded of me, “do as your father could not, wipe this stain from our family, and gain for yourself a name that shall be spoken as that of Kasahara-san will no doubt be spoken in years to come.”

What could I do?

From his expression, I knew I would have to confront Ujimasa-sama sooner or later, that I would need to speak with Ueda-sensei alone, and that right at that moment it was time to gather my belongings and present myself to Inomata Shuichi at his family mansion in Musashi – a fine building, once belonging to the first daimyo of the Ogigayatsu...or so they claimed; I did not have much you understand, my father's sword was the most cherished of my possessions, even more so than the clothing on my back or the sparse amount of food I was given for the journey. Four pairs of waraji I was gifted, because it is a long way to Musashi from Sagami province.

Before I left, I visited Odawara-jō one last time to say my goodbyes to Ujimasa-sama – at least for now, but Liu Jian would not suffer me to pass, claiming that his master did not wish for me to see him; I will tell you now, as I turned away and began my long walk east, that such a discourtesy hurt me inside more than any strike with a bokutō or a fist could ever do. I would see Ujimasa again, that I knew, even if it was only to sharpen my skills alongside him.

All I could think as I passed other travellers on the road, alone but for my carrying of a weapon that showed me to be more than just a farmer's son, was that the Gods would keep Ujimasa safe until I saw him again.

[Merchant of Venice]

Great chapter and I really felt the disappointment our protagonist felt when he was turned away by Liu Jan. Why is Ujimasa so moody? Bloody teenagers I swear.

[McScottish]

Bloody teenagers I swear.

That'll be why, I imagine!

[McScottish]

Prepare yourselves, next chapter coming soon - The Battle of Kai.

[Merchant of Venice]

Can't wait

[McScottish]

Chapter I, Part III ~ Shigatsu, Tenbun 18 (April, 1549), Province of Kai – The Battle of Kōfu, Part I

The day that Hojo Ujiyasu, daimyo and head of the strongest clan in the Kanto, came to the mansion of his vassal was one of great excitement in the household of Inomata-sama; I remember that I was practising my calligraphy when he arrived, surrounded by his most loyal retainers, and bringing behind him an entire army of almost five-thousand warriors bearing the mon of the Hojo, whether warrior, farmer or peasant.

It is intriguing, and remains so to myself, that at a time when other lords were beginning to organise their warriors into more permanent positions, Ujiyasu-tono continued to call the heads of villages to assemblies, and recruit many of his warriors from the semi-professional farmers – it had not steered him wrong so far.

I watched quietly from the porch where I was writing, placing my brush down gently to the side and leaning forward on my heels to get a better look; Ujiyasu-tono was a man of average height, if a little taller than my foster-father, his face rather gaunt and the small moustache and pointed beard making his face even longer. His armour, as elaborate as I had ever seen, and the jinbaori – the crest of the Hojo visible to all as much as the golden thread that edged the garment – that he wore both made certain that his importance could not be ignored.

“Inomata-san,” greeted the smiling figure, his movements – as with everything else about Hojo Ujiyasu – measured and presented with patience, “it has been too long, my friend; I hear that your children visit my son often...even your adopted one.”

When those eyes turned on me, it was like being struck by a lightning bolt, and I did not know why!

Inside I felt like disappearing, maybe melting into the fine wood of the porch, or vanishing into the paper, but all I could do was prostrate myself and listen to the approaching footsteps, my breath caught in my throat as the steps ceased and a voice that sounded as if it were never raised or lowered began to speak to me.

“Hitegawa Ichirou,” stated the voice to my upturned ears but down looking eyes, “you are fortunate in many ways, some that you do not even realise; fortunate to be taken under the wing of one such as Inomata Shuichi, fortunate to have ever set foot into my families dōjō...and most fortunate that my son loves you. If he did not, your head would no longer be attached to your neck.”

This revelation chilled me to the bone, causing me to shift uneasily while remaining pressed to the wood; perhaps the most chilling element was that my lords voice had not changed once, his tone had remained even and unwavering throughout, and this, above all things, scared me the most.

“May I speak, my lord?”

“Why, you are already speaking. Please, continue.”

“I swear by all the Gods that I neither knew, nor ever wished to hurt, Ujimasa-sama.” My mouth had dried out, and speaking into the floor was beginning to make me feel foolish, “I have always loved him, as a brother loves a brother, and I ever shall.”

“The Gods listen, Hitegawa-kun.”

The voice was now so close to my ear that I nearly flinched away, realising that Ujiyasu-tono must be kneeling right next to me to be able to partially whisper into my ear.

“The Takeda have become weak, they hold but a province. Kai, their heartland and their pride, lay beneath the blade of a certain Hara Sadamori, and it is there that we now go. You, as the page of Inomata-sama, shall be coming with us.”

Why was he telling me this?

I could sense, in a way warriors may sense the blade of an unseen or unnoticed assailant, that something was coming...

“Perhaps, if you survive, I shall tell my son what you have said; die in Kai, and he will never know, he shall always believe you to have abandoned and forsaken him, even throwing away your own life to make it so.”

Finally, so close to my ear that I could feel his breath on my ear, he dominated me completely.

“Do you understand me?”

“Hai, tono.”

Some time passed before I even moved from where I was, my body seemingly frozen to the spot as my mind raced inside my head, the Inomata twins having to come and take me inside, preparing me to travel into war with their father; all the while I thought only of one thing, one person, I thought of returning to Sagami and bowing down to Ujimasa-san.

************

Kai was a province of mountains, lakes and stunning natural beauty – the sort of beauty that samurai poets would think upon as they performed their tea ceremony, the sort that drove men to forsake their clan and simply be in the provinces high mountains and winding pathways. These pathways were now strangled with men, horses and rocked by the footfalls of thousands of warriors eager for battle.

“Where are we going?” I heard one man, a fleet-footed ashigaru ask of his companion, a moustachioed warrior-farmer carrying a simply spear over one shoulder, “we are going to Kōfu, you fool. Why do you never listen?” His tone was disdainful, the other, smaller, man clearly known for his lack of hearing.

Both these men were of the same clan, a fact shared by every man surrounding me as I rode, Inomata-sama having gathered around three-hundred farmer-soldiers from his own lands, and all of them now following Ujiyasu-tono to Kōfu. It was this important position that Hara Sadamori, once a retainer of the now faded Satomi-shi, had clasped onto with all four limbs and his teeth to hold, the Hojo now marching to sever every limb and his head.

Atop my chestnut mount, my riding lessons sporadic but ostensibly beneficial, I tried not to focus on the uncomfortable feeling which wearing a suit of armour produced in me; although a simple dō-maru, free of embellishments and decorated as simply as possible, and a kabuto of the momonari style – influenced, it is said, by the helmets of the foreigners – were all that I wore, they nevertheless rubbed against me and caused me to sit rather uncomfortably.

Inomata-sama laughed at my discomfort, assuring me that wearing the armour would get easier, that eventually it became second nature. I believed him, but it did not make me feel any better.

“Halt!”

The order was bellowed down the line of the marching column, everything ceasing to move, our destination reached and stretching out before us...or so I hoped. I, being in the middle of the column, could not yet set eyes on what many called the Kōfu basin, but from the clamour at the fore and the wave of exhilaration that washed over the martial gathering it was simple to guess – we were here.

“Tonight we will likely rest,” half-shouted my lord to me, the lower part of his face covered by a snarling mask with a bristling white moustache, “you shall clean my armour, water the horses, and then attend to me.”

Without another word he was already riding away, off toward the front of the column, assured that I would have prepared his tent, in the correct place amidst our army, and all he needed before evening fell.

It was going to be a long night.

[Caillagh de Bodemloze]

I am intrigued to discover what will actually happen if our protagonist survives the fight.

I particularly like your description of the soldiers, and of the thoroughly terrifying Hojo Ujiyasu.

[Merchant of Venice]

God Hojo Ujiyasa was terrifying. And god did his son take this petty argument way too far. Dobbing to your dad, so not cool.

May the Takeda horses die at the hands of the Hojo. Funnily enough I just finished a Takeda campaign, so I kind of have mixed loyalties.

[McScottish]

May the Takeda horses die at the hands of the Hojo. Funnily enough I just finished a Takeda campaign, so I kind of have mixed loyalties.

Well...these guys aren't Takeda. The Takeda actually only own one province at the moment; the rebels in Kai are formerly Satomi clansmen, but since I massacred all the Satomi leaders, they and the province reverted to Hara Sadamori.

[Lugotorix]

Simply awesome. You're a writing artist, like Ichirou, and now you have visual compliments to your character development, which is top of your game here.

[McScottish]

Simply awesome. You're a writing artist, like Ichirou, and now you have visual compliments to your character development, which is top of your game here.

Wow...just wow really, thank you Lugo! Means a lot, and I highly appreciate it.

I am intrigued to discover what will actually happen if our protagonist survives the fight.

I particularly like your description of the soldiers, and of the thoroughly terrifying Hojo Ujiyasu.

My thanks to you as well, Caillagh, as always; Ujiyasu was intended to be terrifying, and, I must say, turned out pretty well in my opinion. More on him later.

[McScottish]

Chapter I, Part III ~ Shigatsu, Tenbun 18 (April, 1549), Province of Kai – The Battle of Kōfu, Part II

On the night before the battle against the rebellious Satomi remnants, my lord Shuichi-sama spent many hours knelt and in complete stillness; I watched his unmoving form as I oiled both weapons and armour, never having learnt the way of meditation and therefore fascinated by it, his usually troubled features utterly at peace and his expression one of simple contentment. In my mind, even as my hands worked themselves over the kote of his armour, I could envisage myself kneeling before statuette of the Buddha or Bishamonten as he now did – even then it seemed to bring me some form of peace.

“Ichirou-san?”

Having not expected him to speak, my mind too unfocused – or was it over focused? - I flinched and once more centred my sight. Without hesitation I bent at the waist and bowed to the floor, rising only when bidden to do so, keeping my thoughts and my words to myself but looking expectantly on my lord's rough features.

“How old are you, boy?”

“I am ten-and-five years, lord.”

“Is that so?” A hand moved to scratch his cheek as he looked back at me, his eyes never leaving my own, “and you wish to be a warrior? Is this not so?”

“It is so,” I acknowledged, shifting slightly at the thought of telling this man, a noted killer of men, about my childish ambitions, “I would like it very much.”

There was no warning when he rushed at me, no time for me to plan a reaction, only time for me to raise my hands before he was atop me and straddling me; how had be moved so quickly? How had he gone from kneeling and into the attack in the blink of an eye? To me it all seemed so improbable.

“I want you,” he admitted, both thighs on either side of my waist and squeezing, yet I did not panic – I did not believe he would harm me, especially if his lust was strong - “I want you, Ichirou-kun!” He repeated again, his whole body shaking and his eyes filled with a sexual desire that slowly seemed to ebb away.

“Lord?”

“No...not yet...”

He slid off of me as quickly as he had advanced, giving his head a shake and turning away from me. I saw his shoulders heave and that his mind was in turmoil, not wishing to be taken against my will, and as afraid as any would be at the prospect, but I could not go into battle without at least easing his mind.

“My lord,” I pleaded loudly enough for him to hear, “you have just emerged from your mediations, and it would be unwise to put such devotion to waste on one such as I. Please, let me bring you some sake, allow me to serve you before you sleep.”

A desire I had been unaware of, though had guessed at on days riding beside him and nights beneath his roof, was now revealed...and it shamed him. He had a wife, two children, but he seemed to want his lowly page more than any of them. At least at that moment.

“You are right,” came the sighed response, “bring me some sake, let me sleep.”

After all was done, after the drink was served and my lord Shuichi had been laid to rest for the night, he gazed up at me and rested his hand on my arm for a moment as I knelt beside him.

“In the morning, you will find a gift at the door; it is not a bribe, please do not think such a thing, but if you are to become a warrior then you shall need more than a suit of armour. Good night, Ichirou-kun.”

Sleep did not come to me that night, shaken as I was by the thoughts of Shuichi-sama having me at his mercy, wondering how all the training I had received from Ueda-sensei had flowed from my mind as water down a stream. From time-to-time I would look to that slumbering form, once more at peace, and thank the kami for his self-restraint.

When the morning came I received my 'gift', perhaps what should have been a 'thank you' for pleasuring him? It mattered little, he had done nothing with me and I was thankful to him in a different way than accepting mere gifts, even if it was no simple gift.

Shuichi-sama awoke to find me admiring myself in the expertly crafted blade of the naginata, startling me with a laugh that was curiously booming for a man of his effeminate tone, mocking me gently for my vanity as he asked what I thought of it and if it was a suitable weapon for his page to carry into battle.

Held in my hands, resting across my lap, was an ō-naginata of exquisite craftsmanship; two or so feet of curving blade gave way to tsuba with the shape of the Inomata mon crafted into it, then a shaft oak wood sheathed in black, polished to a shine and close to six feet in length, finished with a metal ishizuki adorning the butt of the weapon.

Truly, it was beautiful.

“It is more than suitable, lord!” I exclaimed, pressing my head once more to the floor, “I am unworthy of such a weapon. Please, I have no earned it.”

“Nonsense!” Came the clipped bark of disagreement, “you will take it, you will train with and care for it, and on this day you shall wield it in battle against the last of the Satomi dogs. Hai?”

“Of course, my lord.”

Outside the sun had risen, the camp upon the hill began to bustle with movement as men arranged themselves and joked with one another. Yet down below, in the small hamlets of the Kōfu basin, the farmers and peasants gazed numbly from one side of the land – where Ujiyasu-tono assembled his forces – to the other, where Hara Sadamori and his army could already be seen to have made ready between two sparsely wooded hills; for them it would be a day of fear and uncertainty, but for any samurai or ashigaru taking his place on that cool day it could only be a chance for glory.

************

Our enemy was already weakened as we watched them advance from their position, like so many beetles glistening in the morning sun, banners waving as they came; nearly four-thousand Satomi without a master came toward us, largely light-footed and swift ashigaru but concealing within their ranks a number of samurai, and at least a thousand men skilled in the use of the bow. Hungry and destitute as they were, they were coming toward us, ready and willing to either win this day or die to a man.

My own lord, and I with him, knelt patiently among the bodyguard of Ujiyasu-tono and observed from our vantage point. With my knees placed in the grass, my eyes peering out at the oncoming rebels, I allowed myself to feel the kiss of the cool air and to prepare for what was to come.

Some feet away to my right, dressed as always for war, our daimyo glared intently at the movements of his foe. It had been said by some that Kasahara Ujitane was our greatest general, and until Kōfu I may have agreed, but it was no secret that Ujitane-sama did not possess the cooler head and sheer ruthlessness of his master. On that day, watching Ujiyasu-tono direct his army as one would direct his servants, with simple flicks of his war-fan, I would have said and fully believed that there was no greater leader of men in all of Japan.

“You see how he has positioned our army?” Half-whispered Shuichi-sama beside me, his face nigh on invisible beneath helmet and mask, “we are placed upon this hill to gain the advantage of the higher ground, our ashigaru planting their yari and our bowmen assembled behind them – now, see our flanks? - on our flanks he has placed the samurai, the true warriors, so as to both make strong his weaknesses and, when the time comes, to envelope the enemy.”

All that he said was true, of course, and from where we knelt I watched with awe as the first flight of arrows whistled through the air to land among the calmly approaching enemy. My eyes watched, narrowed against the sickly sun, as shafts wrought havoc across the front row of the enemy ashigaru; men clutched at shafts, some spitting blood as they died, some falling like stones to the ground, and others barely noticing the feathered missile emerging from their armour or flesh.

Once they were close enough, the enemy replied in kind, their own bowmen as fresh as our own from their slow advance - very soon a duel of arrows was taking place, bringing to my mind stories of the old heroes, mounted samurai firing at one another as they crossed paths. This...this was nevertheless something else entirely, something far separated from those days of individual glory, and even if many of the older bushi could not see past their ancestor's glories then I surely could.

“Now, see them run.”

Deaths were rising on both sides, yet it was we Hojo who had the greater numbers and Hara Sadamori could not continue to loose arrows at us forever. Instead, making perhaps the worst and final decision of his life, he waved his men forward at a trot and straight at the waiting blades of our ashigaru; most would have waited then, allowed the Satomi to impale themselves upon our spears, but Ujiyasu-tono was not such a man, and he waited for no-one. With a wave of his fan, and shouted orders along the line, a roar rose as the Hojo infantry charged down from the side of the hill to meet the oncoming forces of the suicidal foe-man.

“Mount yourselves, my guard!” Roared our daimyo, terrifying in his fury, yet already ahead of us all – fifty nine warriors loyal unto death – before we had time to react to his cry.

Battle raged as I flung myself into the saddle, one hand gripped tightly around the haft of my weapon, so feared was I that I might drop it. My armour I adjusted as each man took his place around our lord, my heart beginning to pound against my chest, blood surging in my ears, and my weakening knees thankfully gripping themselves around my horses flanks.

“Keep an eye on me, boy,” roared Shuichi-sama over the cries of fighting and dying men, “if you do not see me, then look for our lord Ujiyasu on the field. We are honour-bound to protect him, to die for him if necessary.”

I noticed gestures of agreement from others nearby, steeling myself for the fight to come, and in a matter of moments Ujiyasu-tono had waved his fan and we were riding down the hillside and straight toward the milling confusion of two intertwined lines fighting for their survival.

Our daimyo could not have picked a better time to personally intervene.

The Satomi were already close to breaking when the full weight of the hatamoto, horse, rider and armour, fell like a hammer or lightning bolt on the wavering ranks; there was no way they would have stood, and shortly they would be utterly broken.

Very few men stood, little chance to earn glory for I or my comrades, yet there were a few...

One brave, some might say arrogant, bushi stood his ground before me with nothing but his sword in his hand. What chance did he have but to die? Try though he did, and inexperienced as I was, the strike of my polearm was true as it clove through his helmet in a shower of brain and bone. Only my own will could stop my stomach from heaving, that man's blood coating my lower leg – it is odd what one notices during a battle.

Hara Sadamori made a futile attempt to rally his fleeing men, three more falling to my slicked blade as they took flight, before yelling for his own horsemen to follow him off of the field. This they tried with all haste, but make it to safety they did not. Ujiyasu-tono was intent on his enemies head as a prize, the hatamoto breaking away from the swirling disorder of mingled infantry in pursuit of a greater prize.

It was I who took that prize.

Do not ask how, for I do not know, but one moment my sweating mount was carrying me forth – others passing me on all sides, friend and foe both – and the next I found myself alone and Hara Sadamori before me. To his everlasting reputation, this erstwhile vassal of the Satomi, a traitor to his Takeda masters, turned about to face me and with much pride drew his tachi to fight.

“I am Hara Sadamori, son of Hara Haru, descended from the Hara of Shimôsa Province, slayer of Daidoji Katsuo.”

“Hitegawa Ichirou, son of Hitegawa Rikuto, born of Odawara Province...” A smirk, uncalled for and unconsciously formed, crossed my face, “and soon-to-be the taker of your head.”

There was no excuse for my arrogance, my cocky behaviour, but sat there on that field and mounted on my steed, I felt as if I could take on the warriors of an entire clan!

Then something came into my mind; “make them angry,” Ueda-sensei had taught me, “cause them to lose their focus, but you must remain calm. Remain calm, aim truly and with a killing intent, and no man can kill you.” Only now did I understand, and with a deep breath I kicked my heels and spurred onward with only the thought of killing or to die trying.

Slowly but surely my perception changed around me, my sight narrowing until all I saw was the son of Hara Haru riding against me, the glint of sun on his armour, and the flash of his blade as it was swung at my face...blood, warm and red, sprayed into my eyes as the very tip of his katana struck under my neck guard and across my cheek, flesh taken away but my life intact.

The same could not be said for Hara Sadamori.

Unknowingly, without thought, I had lashed out with my own weapon; lashed out and returned my own wounding one-hundredfold.

When Ujiyasu-tono and Shuichi-sama found me, finding me in the act of dismounting to take the head of the enemy commander, even their attempts at keeping the shocked expressions from their faces was a failure.

[Merchant of Venice]

Really powerful stuff, enhanced by some brilliant writing and dialogue. The battle was excellent but I think the most intense part was the scene with Ichirou and Shuichi. I did not see that coming at all.

[McScottish]

Chapter I, Part I.V. ~ Shigatsu, Tenbun 18 (April, 1549), Province of Kai – The Battle of Kōfu, Aftermath, Part I

For several minutes, minutes that seemed to never end, Ujiyasu-tono had been sat on his stool and simply looked at me. He did not stare, he did not narrow his eyes in a look of annoyance or disgust, he just...looked. Yet all men knew of the eyes of Ujiyasu - those bottomless eyes, that could penetrate like a spears tip into the very soul of a man (or woman), or otherwise pull you in the opposite direction and cause you to become lost within them. Pools of darkness, as hard and without emotion as the man himself.

"Ichirou-kun," came my name after long last, as fragile and light as dried seaweed in the air, my own eyes even now unable to meet those of my liege lord, "you have done today, at the age of the youngest man, something that warriors thirty years or more your senior could only dream of," although I could not look at him, I dared to hope that I had not misheard the slightest inflexion of admiration in his otherwise monotone voice, "the head of Hara Sadamori, once a loyal retainer to my Takeda allies, and then a cowardly traitor, is a gift to both myself and our allies."

It seemed as if he would continue, but then thought better of it, pursing his lips and tapping his war-fan gently against his thigh.

"Bring the head."

From beside him came an acknowledgement, and three samurai hurried away to fetch the head of Sadamori - washed, dressed, and stuck to a wooden board - returning through the only open space in the surrounding jinmaku to lay it at the feet of our daimyo; my eyes traced there gaze over the fish scale mon adorning the hemp curtains for more than a moment before I could look at my prize, nervously staring straight at it. Ujiyasu was occupied by a similar process, and I was fortunate enough to only look on the back of the decapitated traitors head, I knew that my own strike had not been clean and could only guess at what my lord must be thinking.

Long moments passed, moments that seemed to never end, my chest heaving beneath my gore encrusted armour, until at long last the temporarily motionless warlord ran fingers over his goatee and looked up at me once more.

"Today you have done a great thing and bought honour to your family, Hitegawa Ichirou, and it shall not be forgotten in my memory." Once more his lips pursed, his fingertips pressing against one another, "tell Inomata-san that we shall be remaining in Kai until I deem the province pacified, only then shall he or any of my lords return to their own domains."

A gesture of his fan bid me rise, another motioning for me to leave, and after getting to my feet I turned about to leave...

"One more thing," came the half-whisper to my ear, "my son wishes to see you, do you wish to see him?"

No proof was needed that Ujiyasu-tono could read me like a scroll, but I imagine he took some form of pleasure from dangling his son and our friendship before me.

"Yes, my lord, I would like that very much."

"Good...make sure you keep yourself presentable until we next go into battle, and never neglect your training in brush or blade; farewell for now, Hitegawa-kun."

[waveman]

Wow, what a story line. I really like the complexity of the characters