Chapter 2: Messages
In the time that I had been working for Sugenoya-sama, the balance of power in Japan had noticeably shifted. The Takeda were embroiled in a series of wars in Shinano that seemed to be going well for them, and their alliance with the Imagawa seemed to be holding strong. The Imagawa, meanwhile, had overrun the Hojo, exploiting the deep rivalries between the main branch of the family and the two lesser branches, one of which sought glory to elevate itself while the other sought to supplant the main family.
They all fell; the Imagawa spent 1554 consolidating their gains and spreading their influence over the minor clans in the area: the Satake were crushed, the Chiba knelt before Suruga at swordpoint, and their Imagawa overlords used the Chiba’s feud with the Satomi as a pretext to subjugate them as well in 1555.
Naturally such developments alarmed other clans in the area. Many to the west turned to the Uesegi for protection, but was that really any different from kneeling to the Imagawa, or the Takeda, or any other powerful lord? On such topics were the debates of the upper echelons of the Hitachi no Ota, we heard, and as our neighbors were having similar conversations, our lives as messengers soon became very busy indeed.
In April of 1555 we were never off our feet. In the month previous Daimyo Ota Ujinao had died and was succeeded by his son Ujinaga, a young man of 24. Assurances to our allies had to be sent out, and my modest skills at riding rapidly improved.
Early one morning we were roused by Mifune Jinzaemon himself. He held three missives in his hands and selected three groups of five of us. I was to ride with Yukiyama Koan, Takano Kahei, Goda Ietsuna, and Hiraoka Sadakata to Katsuchika. We were then to proceed to the main fortress there, Koga-jo, and once there we were to deliver this message to none other than Hiraga Morokage, a leading general of the Koga no Ashikaga. Another message was being sent to the Yuki; a few years past, the late Ota Ujinao had allowed his son Ujinaga to invade the Koga region and depose the lord there in favor of Yuki Masakage, who had married Ujinao’s daughter.
We left immediately, saddling horses and grabbing food to be eaten on the road, for the ride would take most of the day. The first hour was passed quietly, as we were still awakening and eating. After that there was playful banter; we were still safely in lands that our soldiers patrolled, and the peasants in the fields that we passed wouldn’t dare try anything against five armed men. Goda and I were the tallest, and both of us were armed only with swords. Takano had a bow, and Yukiyama and Hiraoka had spears in addition to their swords.
Around midday Goda’s horse went lame, having injured one of its legs, so he dismounted to walk it back as the rest of us continued on. When he was but a speck receding in the distance, Hiraoka grinned at the rest of us: “He was too big for that horse! Iwamoto, watch your mount, you might be next!” We shared a laugh, and continued on.
Takano was the most talkative of our group, and kept us entertained as we rode, or walked, on our journey to Katsuchika. Whether it was the background of our mounts, anecdotes about the weather, or comparing the philosophies of different sects of Buddhism, he could talk forever – at least until an arrow ripped out his throat.
One second he was telling a story about a monk who spent his life deliberately cultivating a rock on seaside cliffs that were constantly ravaged by storms, and the next a long shaft had sprouted from his neck, blossoming in a cloud of blood, and he slumped back over the nethers of his horse.
The remaining three of us stared at each other in shock: had that just happened? A second shaft buzzing angrily overhead ripped me forcibly back to reality, and with a cry of anger and fear I kicked my horse in the direction the shot had come from. I tore my sword from its sheath on my saddle, brandishing it overhead as I galloped towards the small cluster of trees the bowmen were certainly hiding in.
I hunched over as another shaft whipped by and was soon in the trees. The first man I saw dove out of my path and I rode past him, and as I searched for his accomplice I was tugged off of my horse to roll through the dirt and roots. It hurt much, much more than I expected it might, and as I clutched at the arm I fell on I heard a scream muffled by hoofbeats and then the clash of steel even as my vision faded to stars and blackness – then another scream that trailed off to a whimper.
I sat upright with a fierce desire to cradle my aching head in my arms – if only I could move my left. I grasped my left shoulder – and hissed in pain as I made contact with yet another arrow. I had been shot. More hoofbeats approached, followed by a thud as someone dismounted.
“Iwamoto!” someone – Hiraoka – called. “You’re alive? Here, press this to your shoulder.” Something ripped, and then a scrap of cloth was thrust into my hand. “Yukiyama is fetching your horse.” My vision returned slowly, the blackness slowly receding to just the edges of my field of view. Somewhere in the background the whimpering continued.
“I think I’m in too much pain to be dead,” I groaned, and Hiraoka let out a nervous laugh, patting my shoulder. “I haven’t seen too many wounds,” he said, peering at my shoulder, “but I think you should be fine.”
“The… who attacked us? Bandits?”
A shadow passed over Hiraoka’s face along with a grimace and his dark brows appeared even darker, thin lips sent in a serious line, before his look of concern returned. “Not bandits. Too well equipped. And they are certainly not fine. Yukiyama trampled one. The other is pinned to a tree by my spear. He’ll pass soon, and then we’ll just have you to deal with.”
I snorted a laugh that turned into a wince. “Call me Kennosuke,” I said.
“Sadataka,” he replied with a grin.