A Time Traveller's Guide To Feudal Japan-Chapter 49 - A Life That Matters

Yari troops! Engage that man on the horse."

He spoke with indifference, as though he could not see any possible threat. Of course, the unmounted men would never be capable of catching Gengyo, unless he made a fatal mistake. But they could make things mightily difficult, as they did now, half charging toward him, and the other half forming a wall around Toda.

If he had more arrows in his quiver, it might have been possible to simply pick the men off one by one until there were none to defend their master, but unfortunately for him, his ammunition was not bottomless.

He urged his horse forward, his bow clasped as though he was ready to fire. The soldiers roared out aggressively, seeing the chance to dismount him as he nearly entered the range of their yari.

His veered sharply right, ditching any of the soldiers that had managed to keep up, and completely passing the wall created by their charge.

Now the field was open, and the only threat to his rear. Toda sat, dismounted, hiding behind his men - whose spears pointed out - as though he were inside of some war-loving tortoise's shell.

He spared him the briefest of glances, pulling his bowstring back. Toda responded by ducking further down amongst his men, not offering even the slightest hair on his head to be aimed at.

SPLUT

"ARGHH"

The sound of his men dying, to which the snake-like man was completely indifferent. He peaked out through the gaps offered by his men's legs, wondering why the scream had been further away from him than might be expected.

Only, his vision was obscured by the bodies of his yari wielders charging past, roaring loudly, as they struggled – as per their lord's command – to keep up with the mounted man.

SPLUT

"ARGHH"

An almost identical set of sounds rang out. At this point, Toda deemed it might be worth the risk of taking a glance out over the top of the bodies.

He stood up straight, easily seeing over the heads of his men due to his height.

"F.u.c.k!"

He cursed, for the first time feeling the first trembling of discontent.

"What are you doing, you animals!? Get over there and stop him killing our men!"

That monstrous man on his horse no longer wielded his bow in hand – that was slung over his shoulder. His armour was splattered with ruby droplets of blood, covering him all the way up his arm, and decorating his face.

He wielded his sword with precision, staying a good deal ahead of his pursuers. Those he hunted held the wood of their weapon up in a pitiful form of defence, only to have it sliced in half, and the metal of a sharp sword plunged into their throat.

They soon learned to run, but when a lion is hungry, it will not stop until it has had its fill. He chased them down ruthlessly, even as they ran in opposing directions. The yari behind him were not given the chance to catch up.

The three remaining bowmen ran toward their spear-wielding comrades, utilising every drop of energy in their body to try and outrun this demonic horseman.

They passed through the spearman's ranks, and carried on running, whimpering with each glance they took back. The black horse and his rider did not slow their pursuit in the least. It was as though he did not see the wall before him. And with his last three arrows, he drew his bow, and claimed their lives.

He barely managed to reign his galloping horse in before the wall of spears punctured his chest. He turned swiftly, speeding toward his comrades.

He arrived by their side, still looking in the direction of his pursuing enemies. They were tiring fast, but still chose to keep up the chase. They neared. 120 metres. 110. The distance growing ever shorter.

His men looked up at him in awe. He had single-handedly slaughtered their greatest obstacle. The act of killing a man who was armed with nought but a bow was not impressive in the least, but doing so when those bowmen were so close to their yari companions was beyond bold. If he had slowed in the slightest, he and his horse would have become a pincushion for 25 spears.

"Focus your fire on those 25 men. If they get too close, run, I'll hold them up."

"Yes sir!"

A guard responded instinctively, only a second later realizing how he addressed him. It was an instinctive reaction to the ease with which the boy commanded, and after the spectacle he had just shown them, it felt like a crime to not show him the highest respect.

Masaatsu struggled to hide his smile. It was a fact, he thought, that there was not a single man quite like his brother.

The unit drew back their bows, sending a volley of arrows toward the approaching men.

FLOOM

An easy target. Every single one of their arrows landed, though some decorated the same target. 12 Men fell in the initial volley.

"I'm out!"

A guard called, waving his empty quiver to ill.u.s.trate his point. Gengyo acknowledged it with a nod, before turning back to face the horde of angry guardsmen who were drawing ever closer.

50 metres.

FLOOM

In the second volley, 10 men fell.

"I'm out too, brother!"

Masaatsu called.

"Me too!"

Kitajo seconded, looking rather worried.

"Same here!"

A guardsmen called.

"We're all out."

Niiro commented pointedly, ceasing the continuous stream of notifications.

30 metres.

"If you have confidence, step forward. I do not think I am capable of dealing with 3 spearmen alone."

Gengyo stood in front of his men, astride on his horse, sword drawn. The opponents were filled with rage. Their comrades had been killed all around them. And by who? Mere peasants. If they could simply close the gap, even one of them, they would hold the advantage.

The first man ran into range, thrusting his spear toward the horse's undercarriage. Gengyo leaned low, and awkwardly brushed his strike aside.

He barely had time to regain his balance before the next point was closing in, aiming for his lowered head. He moved out its path by a fraction, though a line was still drawn in blood beside his eye.

And then the third - almost immediately after the second – was virtually impossible to dodge. He was tilted to one side of his horse, having just dodged the previous blow, and now the sharpened tip of the speed neared his chest.

He raised the point of his sword in a futile attempt to block the fatal blow. But it would never make it in time. The best he could do was to dodge just enough to avoid harming any of his vital organs.

SMACK

Suddenly, the spear was wrenched backwards, before falling to the ground. On top of its wielder sat Masaatsu, who beat the aggressor savagely, until his bow snapped in half, and then he resorted to plain fists.

It did not take the rest of the men much longer to follow either, as Niiro cracked his bow over the back of one of the spear wielders heads, sending him crashing to the floor. A pair of guards – inspired by the courage of the commoners – wrest the spear of the last guard from his grasp, before one kicked him in the chest, and the other drove its point through his throat.

Gengyo watched the chaos, momentarily startled. In truth, he had expected nothing. It would have been perfectly natural for them to remain idle, for they were virtually unarmed. He would not even have found fault in them for doing so.

But despite the risks, and despite the lack of weaponry, they had saved him from a bloody, and possibly ruinous fight. He could not fathom their motivation, but he did know one thing: he was glad to lead such courageous men.

A current passed through his body, seeing them going to work, and now, even in the midst of battle, covered in blood, he found himself smiling.

But he could not remain cheery for long. Even if the enemy had suffered such serve losses, it did not count for much unless they were to take Toda's head. The state of Nakatane's battle remained uncertain, so their best chance at victory lay in their hands.

But now, the one thing that they had to their advantage had been used up, and Toda was still snuggly surrounded by his remaining 25 guards. To him, that was likely a victory, for there was nothing his enemy could do to him now. He merely had to sit and wait for Ochi to return, and then the rebels would be slaughtered like dogs.

"Men, I have something to ask of you."

Gengyo began, attracting his unit's attention.

Those that had bloodied their hands stood up, some holding one of the three spears that they had pilfered.

"You've killed many men today, as have I. But the one man whose life matters is still sitting over there, safe behind his men."

He pointed to Toda, who had remounted, but was still sitting inside his circle of guards.

"We are bow ashigaru. But before that, we are men of Toyone. And though our arrows have run out, is our fight over?"

"No!"

A peasant man pounded his spear against the ground. His face was fierce and firm.

The rest found themselves nodding in agreement with him.

"Will we take up arms, and continue? The advantage we had is long since lost. But if we manage to claim Toda's life, it is possible to win this fight even with the small numbers we have."

Masaatsu walked slowly away from the gathered men. Their eyes followed him, watching him go. He knelt beside the body of a fallen man with an arrow through his chest. Unpeeling the dead fingers, he clasped the weapon firmly, and called out.

"I am with you, brother!"

Gengyo nodded toward his sibling gratefully, before turning his gaze to the rest of the men.

"How about the rest of you? Will you stand here, alongside me, and secure absolute victory for the village? Will you put an end to Toda's terrible treatment today? Or will we suffer under his foul ruling?"

The man from earlier spoke once more, but hesitantly, feeling a certain pressure due to the weapon in his hand.

"I… I will fight!"

"Good man."

Niiro looked from the man, back to Gengyo, shaking his head.

"Look lad… This is… Unwise. You've done miracles so far… but this… this won't come cheaply. That aside, I'm with you. I don't have many years left – better me than one of you youngin's eh?"

"I agree. That's for the rest of you too. There is a very good chance that we will die. However, I will still make this promise: Toda will die alongside us."

"F.u.c.k it…"

A guard cursed, before continuing, raising his spear upwards, and his blood boiling.

"…I'm in too!"

His buddy next to him watched him carefully, before mimicking his motion, lifting his spear skyward.

"Well, if you're in, I'm in too. Let's put this bastard to rest!"

"Me too!"

A peasant man hurried to retrieve a weapon, before announcing his participation.

Before long, the vast majority had armed themselves with a yari, yet one lad still remained.

"Kitajo. You don't have to join us. None of us would hold it against you."

He was visibly quivering. Ever the nervous boy, a scenario that spelt almost certain death was something he wanted to avoid more than anything. Yet he could not bring himself to speak the words of dismissal.

He clenched his fist tightly, not calming even as his nails tore open the soft flesh of his palm. He bit his lips, drawing blood, staring toward the ground as his tears began to fall.

"I'll… I'll do it, Miura-kun… I'll do it."

Gengyo retrieved two spears, before handing one to the lad, dismounting his horse as he did so. With a pat on his shoulder, he welcomed him.

"You're a courageous lad, Kitajo-kun. Let's get through this, yeah?"

"Mhm…"

He agreed, taking the spear in unsteady hands.