A Time Traveller's Guide To Feudal Japan

"That’s him! That’s him!"

They fumbled around as though startled, as Masaatsu urged them on.

"Quickly now! Close the distance and begin fire on the enemy troops!"

Gengyo – who had spent the last ten minutes learning how to control the horse – pushed the animal to its limits, closing the gap between himself and the enemy.

"Do you feel there’s a slight breeze today?"

Toda asked of his retainer absentmindedly.

"A little, lord."

"Ah, one moment please sir, it appears those stragglers are causing more trouble."

"Do what you must. I wonder what is keeping that big oaf Ochi, though?"

"I could not say, lord, excuse me."

"Yari guards, retreat backwards at once! Bowmen, assume frontwards position, and return fire whilst staying out of range!"

There was an urgency in his voice that was not present when he was dealing with the lives of the peasantry. But these guardsmen were different. Each required a good deal of training, and cultivating. They were not something you could simply recruit.

The soldiers marched out range rhythmically, making haste. Not a single one fell to the first barrage of arrows, as they decorated the earth instead.

The bowmen assumed position, bows already drawn, and released their arrows.

"F.u.c.k!"

Niiro cursed, seeing the speed with which the arrows were released. Their bows were evidently of a much higher quality, and the range was even further than their own.

"Run back!"

Masaatsu ordered, remembering what his brother had said about taking risks.

They sprinted backwards as fast as they were able, barely avoiding the hail of arrows that attempted to decorate their heels.

"We can’t keep this up! Their range is much higher than our own!"

A guard cried in dismay.

"I know... But we have to keep their attention."

The black horse was driven faster, as Gengyo drew his bow back, finally getting into range.

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He lined his aim up with his intended target, and released. Toda noticed him drawing in first, whilst his wiry retainer was still busy overseeing the movement of his troops.

Sensing the impending danger that came from an arrow intent on taking his life, he acted immediately to remove himself from its path. With an outstretched arm, he dragged his man toward him.

FLUSCH

"AHHHHHHHH!"

The scream of an arrow piercing bone. He stared at his bloody wound with wide eyes, breathing heavily, struggling to control the pain. He glared toward the man on the horse, who was riding ever closer, but was still at least 300 metres away. And then, he turned to his lord, who was looking at him without a hint of concern.

It took a great effort for him to contain his anger, as he realized exactly what had happened. But after a deep breath, he regained his calm. He was used to be treated as such after all.

Another arrow was already pulled from the quiver, and into a bowstring that was swiftly drawn.

It was terrifyingly accurate, arcing toward Toda’s head, who was pulled out of its path by the very man who had just received an arrow on his behalf.

"Damn that ant..."

His retainer cursed. It was just one man... But how could they deal with him? The ten archers that he had with him were busy trying to keep those other insects at bay. If things went on like this, it was only a matter of time before one of them got hit again.

’F.u.c.k... It hurts.’

The throbbing pain from his arm clouded his thought. He bit down hard on his lip in frustration, feeling a vengeful hatred for that man that sat on the horse so arrogantly, drawing his bow again and again as though he had all the authority of the gods on his side.

"Go on and kill him."

"Pardon lord?"

"Kill him. Everyone else is busy. Kill him. He’s only got a bow. It should be easy enough."

"But—"

He went to protest, but could not think of an alternative. Perhaps it would be possible... if he simply dodged, surely he could close the gap easy enough?

"Go on, hurry up."

Toda tapped on the tip of the arrow playfully, as the maddening smile calved into his men-yoroi started to seem even more fitting.

"Agh..."

He barely held back a fully-fledged scream, as he fumbled with the scabbard of his sword, and hastily drew it. He briefly wondered whether to be grateful that his dominant arm was not the one that was injured, and then decided against it, resuming the current of rage that he felt toward the black horseman.

"YAH!"

He spurred his horse into motion, holding his sword high in his single arm.

SWOOSH

An arrow aimed for his head immediately put him back in his place. It would have taken his eye had he not managed to dodge to the side at the very last second, instead, a deep cut manifest itself on his cheek.

He gulped, feeling the slightest chill of fear, wondering just what kind of bowman he was dealing with.

He spurred his horse forwards, encouraging the rage to grow so that it might swallow the fear. The distance between the two closed, as the mounted bowman continued to gallop forwards, not fearing a close-range battle in the least.

200 metres.

’My god... The size of that bow!"

He had been around mounted bowmen a good deal, in the form of Ochi’s men, but not once had he seen anyone capable of wielding a full-sized yumi on horseback... The version they used was almost half the size. And he did it with such precision, with no signs of awkwardness.

He began to sweat, his sword still raised high in the air. The arrows grew ever closer. He began to move more sporadically, intent on confusing the bowman’s aim by travelling from side to side.

It worked, for a time.

100 metres.

SPLURGH

Another arrow made its way into his left arm.

"AAGGGH!"

He roared in pain, his raised sword quivering, threatening to fall.

’Surely... This can’t be...?’

He wondered whether he would meet his end at the hands of this bowman. The way the man was dressed caused the acid in his stomach to begin to rise. The man was a mere peasant.

"Haha!"

He started to laugh maniacally, wondering if this was the cruelty of the gods. They wished for him to meet his death by the hands of someone from the very class he wished to escape.

Though there was something odd. The kimono he wore was not that of a peasant, it was that of someone higher up, a guard perhaps.

He started to see meaning where there was none.

’He’s like me then... Half peasant, half something else.’

His rage was dying, replaced by a numbing fear as his thoughts went toward death, and the arrows grew ever close to claiming his life.

50 metres.

An arrow buried its way into the upper part of his chest, puncturing a lung. It was so deep that he could not cry out in pain. Blood spurted up from his mouth, and the grip on his sword grew looser, still he did not allow it to drop.

The distance was closing too fast. The bowman would not have time to nock another arrow.

He smiled grimly, his lips a blood red.

’At least I can take you with me, you bastard!’

He prepared to swing downwards as their horses passed by each other.

But the man betrayed his expectations, attempting something outlandish.

He discarded his bow, lifting his feet up from the stirrups and onto the saddle. He squatted, his hands on the reigns. Slowly and tentatively, he released them, putting his arms out wide to retain his balance, and just before their horses passed each other, he launched himself with the full momentum of a speeding horse.

Gengyo caught the retainer midswing, so that instead of meeting the blade, the only thing that hit him was the hilt. He speared the man off the horse, crashing to the ground on top of him.

Both landed heavily, winded, though Gengyo’s fall was cushioned slightly by the man’s body.

They struggled fiercely, as both – though in serve pain, and lacking breath – fought for their lives. In this tight grapple, the retainer could not move his sword in the least, and he was virtually an arm down.

Gengyo sent a fist crashing down into his cheek, beating him savagely. The man tried with all his might to pull his katana free, and drive it into the soft flesh of his belly, but the gods were not with him that day. His rage was no match for the godlike determination with which the young man fought.

And as he barely held onto his consciousness - after having his brain resound off his skull countless times with each strike that pounded his face – he noted those eyes, and it was only then that he realized he never stood a chance. The boy held a will that he did not have, he feared, no matter the situation, he could never defeat him, unless he found such a purpose himself.

Just before his weapon was wrenched from his grasp, and the pointed blade was driven through his throat, he asked a question in a breathless voice.

"Why... Do... You... Fight?"

SPLURT

It was not a question he could answer with words. He knew of some of the components: he wished to protect those dear to him. But that was not all he felt. That could not explain the fire that burned within his blood, giving him the energy to accomplish any task. There was much more, but he knew he would not find answers by sharing conversation with a dead man.

"Holy f.u.c.k.i.n.g shit." Kitajo breathed. The rest of the unit shared the sentiment. They’d been under a continuous hail of arrows, but by now, a rhythm had been adopted, and their anxious hearts drifted toward the one this whole plan relied on, and soon their eyes follow.

They’d seen the swordsman ride toward their leader with a hint of worry, knowing the absolute advantage a katana held over a bow once the range was closed.

But seeing him pounce from his horse without a hint of hesitation, and beat the man to death, they could not help but feel fired up.

Even as they stood in front of 50 men, armed with only their bows, they dared to hope of victory.

"Can we actually do this?"

A guard asked, for the first time feeling hope.

"Of course we can. Keep your eyes on that man – he’s my brother."

Masaatsu said confidently, with pride.

Gengyo took the scabbard from the retainer’s corpse, hanging it around his waist, before sheathing the katana alongside it.

He walked casually to retrieve his bow, eyeing Toda who watched him without a hint of emotion.

The horses had not gone too far away, and he remounted Ishiyama’s black stallion.

He held his bow up high in one hand, and reared his horse upwards.

"TODA! IT’S TIME TO PAY FOR YOUR CRIMES!"