A Time Traveller's Guide To Feudal Japan

"Miura! You’re still alive? And so many of you too! Bloody hell... I never thought that would work. Is this really it then? We’re going to overthrow the Daimyo? It seems so close! Wait, who’s this?"

Finally, Gengyo was able to get a word in, and Morojo’s excited barrage died down. "This is Matsudaira Motoyasu."

"Ah..." Morojo was unsure whether to bow towards him, or curse him for giving them such a difficult time, and so he stood there, staring awkwardly, joined by Takeshi who had much the same reaction.

"Haha, wipe that look off your faces. Come, join us, we’re going to drink until we drop. Matsudaira, that there is Morojo, a master shipwright with such talent that he can extend his hand to anything structurally oriented. Matsudaira was just praising the speed with which you repaired the city, Morojo."

"Eh..? Ah... Thank you my.. lord?" In response to Matsudaira’s respectful nod, he fumbled, attempting to give him an appropriate title, but seeing that the defeated general evidently did not care how he was addressed, he was allowed a sigh of relief as the attention was directed elsewhere.

"And this is Takeshi. Inventor, and a talented blacksmith. That cannon caught you off surprise yesterday, did it not? He managed to construct that in just a couple of days. Had it been any later, then the conclusion would have been quite different."

"Indeed. It was a troublesome counter." He was a most reserved individual, Matsudaira Motoyasu, and understandably so, being thrust into the company of the enemy, and speaking with people he had never met before. And yet, despite that, with talk of his defeat, he did not show nor give voice to any bitterness, instead, his nods seemed to contain some approval, and genuine respect, as he paid homage to their achievements.

"You had some troublesome weapons yourself. That ballista – I’ve never seen anything like it. How did you manage to make it so large, yet be able to handle such amounts of tension?"

Takeshi and Morojo gave one final nod to their commander before leaving to talk with Morohira, Jikouji and the others that walked behind them.

"A foreign scroll, and some experiments of my own, though I’ve never had an opportunity to use it until now."

"Heh, perhaps some alcohol will loosen your tongue a bit more. Come, let us hurry for some proper drink."

They’d carved a spot of the city for their own on the far side. There was a good deal of space for their tents, but there were also some houses as well which the higher ranked men resided in.

They’d paid some of the villagers to tend to them, and the saké and celebratory feast had been prepared in advance. An optimistic gesture though it might have been, but who would complain of the lost coin if they had truly been delivered to the afterlife?

The serving women bowed deeply as their walked into the square. The feast was indeed delicious, and most of the food had been freshly prepared and steaming. Word of their arrival must have travelled fast.

A small drinking bowl and dining bowl had been laid out for each man, and they sat on the bare ground with their legs crossed contently helping themselves to food as they waited for the alcohol to be severed.

"Is the food to your likin? Ah, I suppose you’ll have had some gourmet rations, so these probably pale in comparison."

"No, it’s simple, but fresh. I regret that my men will not be able to share it."

"We’ll have some saved for them. Ah, yes, if you would begin serving the alcohol." Gengyo motioned towards one of the serving women who bowed obediently, before filling his cup. The others began down the table and hastened to do the same.

Gengyo sat at the very head, as was his honour, with Akiko by his side, and Matsudaira by his other. His wife sat quietly, sharing conversation with Rin, not wishing to interfere with her husbands bonding with his new ally. The others were similarly thoughtful, aside from a certain duo.

"Oyy, can we not get a jug of our own? These tiny bowls aren’t enough." Morohira directed his complaints towards his son, rather than towards the serving women who might actually be able to do something about it.

"Help yourself to a barrel, if it’ll keep you quiet for a while." Gengyo replied with a smile, having been cut off in the middle of his conversation.

"A barrel? Yer a bit optimistic there boss. Give him two, and we’ll fancy our chances."

"Pah. You want one for yourself as well, don’t you Rokkaku? Don’t be pretending and trying to rob me of mine."

"Aye... Might be that I do."

"Then... We’ll wrestle!" He immediately jumped to his tried and tested strategy of wrestling. In the past, his victory over Rokkaku would have been assured, but much had changed since then, and both of them were far stronger.

"You go it! I’ll smoosh yer face into the sand, and we’ll see how much saké you can drink then."

No celebration was complete without adequate entertainment, and with most of the men bordering on exhaustion, they were lucky to have the two of them.

They immediately began to grapple, threatening to take the table with them, and it fell to Gengyo to redirect their brawl a little further away before his meal coated their backs.

He let loose an amused sigh as he sat back down, continuing to watch their scrapping, as he sipped delicately on the saké enjoying its bitter flavour.

"Who schooled you in the sword?" Matsudaira asked suddenly, prompting a raised eyebrow from Gengyo. "You move quickly, even when the intent is casual." He explained, having witnessed just how swiftly he was able to shift Morohira and Rokkaku.

"Mm... I suppose you could say Jikouji did. Though his lessons were short, and often rather painful." He pointed to the old man who recalled such memories with embarrassed fondness, a time when he could easily manhandle this boy who had now become such a terrifying monster. "Though my true training lay in the spear, at Menryo-ji."

Matsudaira’s head flickered up with haste, as he regarded Gengyo with surprise. "The warrior monk temple, Menryo-ji?" He pursued.

"Aye, that’s the one." He agreed, downing the rest of this saké.

He could hardly believe what he was hearing, but the skills that he had seen brought what he knew into doubt, and so, he continued to question. "Did you grow up amongst them? From what I’ve heard, they do not accept outsiders."

"No, you’re quite right in saying I was an outsider. It was a strange set of events, that Kitajo – over there – and I found ourselves in, and yet such was the result. The masters instructed me in their arts, and I did my best to learn them."

"Is that how your soldiers..?"

"Correct. I instructed them in some of the basic techniques."

"No wonder... They have skill equalling or besting my elite guardsmen. To think I would ever face a disciple of the Menryo-ji. There are those who doubt their skill, because they never do battle. And yet here you are... I had always believed... It is truly strange the fate the gods hold in store."

"Haha, finally! It only took three bowls of saké, but you’re finally starting to cheer up a little. War had need not be miserable, Matsudaira. Now you see, when I promised your men that I would raise their skill, I did not lie."

His gaze was distant, but the beginnings of a smile on his face were obvious. He did not give voice to his thoughts, but clearly, within his mind, some connections were being made, and he was beginning to see the significance of the events that had come to pass, and those that awaited him in the future. Perhaps... That regretful childhood dream could truly be fulfilled?