A Time Traveller's Guide To Feudal Japan

"Good." He took the rifle, and placed the end of it in line with Morohira’s head. "Say goodbye." He said with a slick smile. After weeks of torture, he had finally won. His men mimicked his actions, and prepared to fire. He slowly moved to squeeze the trigger, completely focused. He was intent on memorising every second of this experience, so he could milk the pleasure for all it was worth.

"Eh?" An ill-timed gust of wind hit the troops from behind, and almost pushed them from their feet. He dug his feet deeper into the ground out of annoyance, as he strained to remain upright. Even the gods were struggling to make things more difficult for him, but it didn’t matter, he reaimed and prepared to fire.

"I would not do that if I were you." A voice spoke out from behind him, and some kind of force was applied to the barrel of his gun, forcing it upright, no matter how much he tried to push it down.

"The f.u.c.k!?" He cried out in enraged surprise, turning to see the source of the voice. If it was one of his men, then he would have him killed where he stood. "Who the f.u.c.k are you?" But the man behind him was one of that he did not recognize. It was definitely not one of his men. He was dressed as a monk might, and his head was shaved. He had that monkly gaze to him as well.

The monk wrenched the rifle from his grip with ease, and with a swift motion, he cast it further along the beach. He then reached out, and placed a hand on the commander’s trembling shoulder. Almost all the guardsmen whirled around to come to their commander’s aid, and point their barrels at this unusual monk, and the other monk that stood behind him.

"This is no business for a monk – stay out of it!" The commander barked, still refusing to cower. Whatever temple this monk was from, he did not have the right to question the command of a servant of Imagawa.

"I am no monk." The man stated, reaching out, and grabbing the commander’s neck in his tight grip.

"Who... are... you?" He croaked, unable to breathe, as he was lifted from his feet.

"My name is Miura Tadakata, and this, is my army." With his free hand, Gengyo pointed upwards toward the top of the cliffs, where the guards had once stood with their rifles. There stood an almost uncountable amount of soldier. They stood squashed together holding their bows and their rifles, sneering down on the enemy below.

"Tadakata..?" Morohira breathed, unable to recognize his own son. The lack of hair, and the difference in clothing, and even his aura. If it wasn’t for those eyes of his, it would have almost been impossible to tell who he was.

"Miura!" Rokkaku and Sasaki said together, never more relieved to see anyone in their lives.

"He’s finally back! Haha, eat a thousand bullets sc.u.mbags!" Il heckled, finally regaining some of his confidence.

"Nii-san!" Rin called out, her eyes watering.

"Tadakata..." Akiko murmured a gentle smile on her face.

Isabella opened her mouth to speak, but she could not summon the words.

"You’ve finally returned then, lad. And just in the nick of time, eh?" Jikouji grinned. He was old, and even with the gun pointed towards him, he had not entirely dreaded the thought of death.

"Welcome home, master." Togashi called out, his voice firm. Their impending doom by the hands of a hundred matchlock had instantly be liberated at the return of their commander. Even if it had been him alone, without all the troops that he brought – even then, a confidence would have arisen.

"Who the f.u.c.k... is Miura Tadakata?" The commander spat, outraged, unable to come to terms with the fact that he was about to die at the hands of this unknown man.

"The bane of Imagawa." Gengyo responded without emotion, before raising his voice. "Men of the Red Feather, FIRE!" At his command, the drawn back bowstrings were loosened, and the readied bullets were fired, hailing down atop the defenceless enemy, who were fighting on multiple fronts.

With a light squeeze, he took the commanders life, crushing his throat, before casting his corpse aside. A stray arrow threatened to injure his shoulder, but with a casual motion he redirected it elsewhere. Within mere moments, the dispatched of guards had all but perished – not a single man remained standing.

"Good work men! Begin setting up camp, whilst I greet out comrades!" He called out to the men on top of the cliff. Their discipline was substantial, and soon not a single man could be seen peering over the cliff edge, for they were already carrying out their order.

A fallen guardsman attempted to crawl away, with multiple arrows jutting from his back, like some kind of malicious turtle shell. With a stab of his spear, Gengyo granted him mercy.

Kitajo moved toward his side, and together they looked towards their old comrades. They had not laid eyes on each other in what felt like an eternity. Even with corpses at their feet, and blood on their shoes, there was no better feeling than this.

"Quite the pickle you’d worked yourself into." He began, a light smile gracing his lips.

"Hehe... We made a couple of mistakes..." Morohira began, scratching the back of his head uncomfortably.

"No, it is I who is to blame. I should have known better." Togashi jumped in, attempting to defend his captain.

"Togashi! Shut up. It was me and Akiko – we all know that... We... We... I’m so sorry Nii-san." Rin cut in, her voice cracking as she attempted to confess.

"A child, was it? Mm..." In the past, who knows how he would have responded. But with his induction into the Buddhist temple, he had come to understand something of zen, and so he knew that to punish his people here would not serve to make them stronger. They already knew their mistake.

"It is a difficult situation to solve, in that case. There are many that we must kill in order to secure our revenge, but if we were to lose our humanity along the way, would it be worth it?"

She looked up at him in hope, but he raised a hand, telling her not to raise her hopes so soon.

"However, it is also true that if our compassion were to result in the death of our comrades, then our compassion no longer has any use. But you know what you have done, and I will speak of this matter no further."

The eyes of the crew immediately brightened, as he passed his merciful verdict on their mistake. Jikouji nodded his approval. He’d matured somehow, in a different way than he had expected. His eyes were no longer so clouded, and instead were clear and bright. And that new aura he had? It was difficult to place it.

"I’m surprised no one has asked about our hair yet." Kitajo mumbled with a grin, knowing full well that was exactly what they wished to ask.

"Are you kidding!? What the f.u.c.k happened to your hair?" Rokkaku growled, seizing the opportunity. "And those clothes too? Did you rob a monk or something?"

"Haha. Not exactly rob. We made a couple of new friends on our journey, and they helped us in our training. They’re the reason I was able to gather such an amount of quality soldiers." Gengyo replied with a chuckle.

"Do you know their names?" Jikouji asked curiously, stroking his beard. There were not many monks who sort to get involved in the affairs of the ordinary man.

"The three masters of Menryo-ji temple."

Old man Jikouji gasped, his mouth widening.

"What? What the f.u.c.k’s a Menkyo?" Morohira looked around, confused. It seemed the others were in a similar state. It was a fairly uncommon thing to be spoken of this deep into Mikawa, after all.

"A legendary warrior monk temple, said to be the home of the strongest monks in all of Japan." Jikouji breathed, shaking his head in disbelief. "But I thought they were adverse to outsiders? How did you manage to get them to train you?"

"It’s a long story, my old friend, and I’ll be sure to tell it to you around the campfire. But for now, should we share a meal?"

"Eh?! I don’t like this... My son has suddenly got stronger? Kid. Fight me." Morohira barked out of nowhere, readying his unarmed fists, looking as though he was about to charge at any second.

"Dad! Nii-san has only just gotten home! Let him rest awhile, atleast." Rin protested.

But Gengyo shook his head with a gentle smile. "No, it’s quite alright. I’m ready when you are, father." He dropped his spear to the ground, and mimicked his father’s stance. He stood facing a man that had caused havoc on every battlefield he entered. A man that was the strongest even amongst this most elite force. A man that in the past, he would never have come close to. And such a man charged at him, ducking in low to tackle him with all the force he could muster.

But the target that he had charged at was not there once he lunged towards it, and instead of tackling the man to the ground, he felt something trip his foot, and instead it was he that fell over.

"WOE! THE F.U.C.K?!" Rokkaku roared, hardly able to believe his eyes. Their boss had moved faster than they’d ever seen a man move before – not only that, he sent Morohira of all people stumbling onto the floor.

Growling, Morohira, jumped to his feet, and threw a punch toward Gengyo angrily, looking him dead in the eye, determined not to be caught out this time. Yet for some odd reason, he paused midstrike, and shook his head.

"No... This is definitely your victory." Came his troubled words. As competent a fighter, as he was, he was able to tell just how big the gap between them had become, and how insubmountable it was for him.

He did not know how to feel that his son was now stronger than him. Perhaps if Gengyo had been smiling gloatingly, then he would have been able to feel anger. But there was no emotion of that sort in the boys eyes, merely an overwhelming calm and consistency, like the lapping waves of the ocean on a sandy beach.

He shook his head and chuckled lightly, patting his boy on the shoulder.

"Welcome home, son."

//Volume 3 End