Title: The Rising Sun
Rating: T
Summary: Japan's greatest warlord and unifier is dead. When his son comes of age, he meets resistance from those he thought were his allies, now determined to strip him of his birthright. Forces decimated at the Battle of Sekigahara, Lord Hideyori Toyotomi must do whatever it takes to carry on his father's legacy and take back Japan in a stunning whirlwind of war, honour, divided loyalties, assassination, and love.
The worst part: The one Hideyori must place in the most danger is the one he's most afraid to lose…
KNOWLEDGE OF SAMURAI WARRIORS IS NOT REQUIRED TO UNDERSTAND THIS FIC
A/N: Thank you for taking the time to read this story! Please Enjoy!
x Inkbrush x
Disclaimer: I don't own Samurai Warriors.
Prelude
It is a time of war in feudal Japan!
After years of fighting for control in an endless dance of bloodshed, one warlord unites the land beneath him. Hideyoshi Toyotomi dies young, entrusting Japan to a council of five regents until his son, Hideyori, comes of age to take the mantle. Tokugawa, the most influential and cunning of the regents, thinks to take advantage.
Pulling allies to his side, Tokugawa sets to march on Hideyori's home at Osaka.
There's only one problem. Hideyori Toyotomi has come of age, and will not allow himself to be stripped of his birthright. He assembles a force of his own to intercept the betrayer's army, led by his most loyal supporter and retainer, Mitsunari Ishida, known throughout the land as the Horned Demon. Upon Mitsunari's pleas, Hideyori stays behind at Osaka.
The two armies meet on a field called Sekigahara, where fate is decided…
Chapter 1 – Hideyori's Vision
Japan. 1600.
Hideyori Toyotomi stood in a wide field. Fog curled around his ankles and face, wisping around his waist-length brown hair, released from its usual ponytail only when he slept. It was released now. Ahead were rows upon rows of rank and file soldiers in yellow battle armour. They stood stock still, armour adorned with the Toyotomi crest – half an upside-down flower from which protruded three vertical plant-like shapes. The soldiers stood in blocks, separated by aisles. Hideyori ran to the end of an aisle and stared. The sea of yellow was his father's – no, his – army. His father was dead.
Hideyori strolled down the aisle.
This field was Sekigahara, where the Toyotomi army he'd sent off this morning from Osaka Castle was fated to clash with the army of Tokugawa, who had betrayed Hideyori's father and the House of Toyotomi. Tokugawa wanted to become ruler of Japan, a title which was his father's, and now Hideyori's by birthright. Hideyori realised he was seeing the moment before the Battle of Sekigahara's beginning. This was odd as Hideyori's most recent memory was wrapping himself in his futon at Osaka Castle.
Hideyori looked down at himself and understood. He was wearing his white sleeping robe. This was a dream. It had to be.
The soft sound of hooves snapped Hideyori from his thoughts. A man was riding down the aisle toward him – one of his fathers – no, his – samurai generals. The man wore a long white robe with flaring sleeves and a blue and white hat that stuck up on his head like the ears of a cat. His mouth and chin hid behind a high collar. The horse raced toward him, smoke flaring from its nostrils in the pre-dawn mist.
It didn't slow down. Had the man not seen him?
"Yoshitsugu!" yelled Hideyori, waving his arms. Yoshitsugu did not slow down. "Hey, Yoshitsugu!" Hideyori waved harder. Yoshitsugu did not slow. Hideyori couldn't move, the soldiers were too tightly packed and didn't acknowledge his existence. Hideyori screamed and threw up his arms over his face. "YOSHITSUGU!" Hideyori braced himself for bone-breaking impact, and experienced two seconds of blinding black and deafness. No impact came, and he opened his eyes to an empty aisle ahead. He spun and saw the retreating end of Yoshitsugu's horse. It had passed right through him. Hideyori shivered.
Yoshitsugu slowed a few metres away and another mounted general raced from the end of the aisle to meet him – the same end Hideyori had just entered.
Hideyori got closer.
The new man had long straight red hair that flew behind him in the night breeze and two demon-like horns sprouted from a metal band around his head. The sight of the horned man calmed Hideyori. Where Mitsunari was, no harm could come to him – that was just a fact.
"Yoshitsugu," said Mitsunari, the horned man. "Have the Mountain Squadron moved yet?"
Yoshitsugu pulled down his high collar. "Not yet, my friend. They keep turning away our messengers," he said softly.
"The bastards," said Mitsunari.
On a mountain near the field was a great force led by one of Hideyori's generals. They were supposed to charge down the mountain on the orders of Mitsunari, the leader of his army. It seemed they were rebelling. Had they betrayed him?
"Whether the Mountain Squadron move or not, we will fight this battle for Lord Hideyori. We will not let the traitor Tokugawa reach Osaka," said Mitsunari.
"We will defeat him. You have my word," said Yoshitsugu, eyes sincere.
"Thank you, my friend." Eyes gleaming, the red-haired man snapped open his giant war-fan. "We ride at dawn."
The world tilted and spun and blurred and Hideyori fell to the ground. When he righted himself and pushed brown locks from his face, he saw he was now inside a war-camp atop a hill. A familiar red-haired man stood at the edge of the hill, looking down on the battle below, where seas of yellow and blue soldiers clashed in the afternoon sun. The battle had been raging all day. A yellow-armoured soldier stopped a few steps from Mitsunari and dropped to one knee.
"My Lord, our forces are pushing back the enemy. Tokugawa's forces are taking heavy casualties" said the soldier. Hideyori's heart leapt.
"Good. Send the smoke signal to the Mountain Squadron. We'll crush Tokugawa and all who follow him," said Mitsunari. Hideyori could hear the sadness behind Mitsunari's words; he was close with many of Tokugawa's generals. They had all been united under Hideyori's father – but that was before.
Within seconds, a cannon had fired smoke into the air, and the men's heads turned to the nearby mountain. A minute later, another yellow soldier knelt by Mitsunari.
"The Mountain Squadron is not moving, My Lord." So they had betrayed him after all. A gust of wind tinged with the scent of blood ruffled Mitsunari's red hair, and he held his hands behind his back. The horned man's forehead developed furrows. Another soldier ran up.
"My Lord, The Mountain Squadron is moving!"
Mitsunari's eyes lit up until the man continued.
"They've turned against us, My Lord. They're smashing into the right flank contingent led by Lord Yoshitsugu."
Yoshitsugu…
A face masked in a cat-ear hat and high collar flashed through Hideyori's mind. His stomach dropped.
"My Lord!"
"My Lord, what are your orders?" The soldiers crowded Mitsunari.
Mitsunari whistled a high, piercing note and a horse came galloping up. The red-haired man swung into the saddle. "We will salvage this! We must–"
Another yellow-armoured man appeared. "The Mountain Squadron's defection has triggered dissent among the generals. Three of our generals on the right flank have defected." Hideyori's head spun.
Another soldier came, this time on a horse. "Lord Yoshitsugu has fallen!"
Hideyori felt sick.
"The right flank has fallen!"
Mitsunari was silent on his horse, staring dumbly at the saddle pommel, which he gripped in shaking hands. Then he looked up, fire in his eyes. "Clear a path through the army. I will kill Tokugawa."
The soldiers stood silently.
Mitsunari's war-fan snapped open. "Go!"
"Yes, My Lord!" chorused the soldiers.
Then the world was spinning and blurring again and Hideyori was flying on the wind next to Mitsunari's horse. A clear rivulet ran down Mitsunari's cheek and he wiped it away angrily, smearing blood. Mitsunari was covered in blood.
"Forgive me, Lord Hideyori," whispered Mitsunari.
Ahead was a line of bowmen, then a line of musketeers, and behind them – sporting the spotless armour of a man who had led a battle from the rear – was Tokugawa. The bowmen shot, but Mitsunari smacked the arrows away with his fan in dancing strikes and curves. The musketeers shot, and blood rained from Mitsunari as holes opened all over his body.
"TOKUGAWA!" yelled Mitsunari, leaping from his horse and sweeping soldiers away with his fan.
"Shoot him," said Tokugawa to the man beside him. Hideyori didn't hear the man's reply, only saw Mitsunari's adrenaline-fuelled rush across the remaining space to Tokugawa.
A gunshot. Mitsunari went down and was swarmed by a sea of blue soldiers.
Hideyori, finding the voice that wouldn't come during the dream, screamed at the top of his lungs as he woke. The room was dark. The floorboards beneath the futon were cold. The door almost smashed off its hinges as the guards ripped it open, spears at the ready.
"Lord Hideyori, are you alright?" asked a female guard.
Hideyori was curled in a ball, body in a cold sweat, breathing hard.
"Lord Hideyori," said one of the guards, coming closer, but before she could get any closer, a woman came running down the wood walkway outside Hideyori's room and skidded to a stop outside the door. Hideyori pushed himself up on shaking arms, breathing steadying.
Just a dream, just a dream.
Lady Kai, who was protecting him in Mitsunari's place until – until, not if – he returned from the Battle of Sekigahara, stood in the doorway, a letter in hand. She wore black overlayed with a red tunic, hair tied in its usual giant swirling ponytail.
"Lord Hideyori, there's news from Sekigahara," said Lady Kai.
"What's the news?" asked Hideyori, dizzy with fear.
"The Mountain Squadron isn't moving."
Not a dream. A vision of the future. Hideyori glanced outside. It was dawn. The dawn of Sekigahara. The battle was starting now. Yoshitsugu hadn't died yet. His dearest Mitsunari hadn't died yet.
But they would if he didn't do something now.
Glossary:
Feudal Lord: A person of the highest rank who possessed land and samurai retainers.
Samurai: The warrior class of feudal Japan. Recognisable by their swords, used to stab unruly peasants, as well as enemies attempting to besiege their lands and castles. Not to be confused with foot-soldiers.
Retainer: A samurai who served a feudal lord. While they may have lands and people of their own, a retainer would be expected to report and answer to their liege, and provide armed forces in times of conflict. They sometimes lived at their lord's residences and acted as political allies, close confidants, advisors, and bodyguards.
In this fic, Mitsunari and Yoshitsugu are a couple of Lord Hideyori's retainers.
A/N: Thank you again! Favs and reviews are greatly appreciated!