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The fall of Yoshimoto Imagawa

"My Lord," a peasant soldier rushed into the tent of his Lord Imagawa. Flustered and baring a sword, he bowed in a hasty showing of respect, "We are under attack…. The Oda have flooded our camp in the depths of night. Our men are-"

"Be silent and do not spout such nonsense." The Master of the clan stood and reached for his cup of sake. "We have them cornered at Zensho-Ji. Return to your duties at once and do not disturb me agai-"

Blood – deep and red. It splattered across the pristine whiteness of the tent and caused the handful of retainers therein to jump in panic. The peasant fell to the floor with crimson leaking from his lips. As his expression fell in pain, he looked to his lord and master, "My Lord…. You must run."

In mere moments, chaos took hold. Soldiers emblazoned with the insignia of the Oda upon their armor entered the tent with their spears and swords at the ready. One of them – standing at the forefront, brandished his armament with a flourish. "Prepare to die. Your quest for Kyoto ends here…."

"I shall defend you, my lord." An Imagawa samurai stood from his seat and reached for his weapon. "It would seem that the sounds outside were not the rowdiness of the common soldiers as we initially thought."

He moved to the side of his lord and stood in valiant defence, "I shall not let them pa-"

A violent stab of a spear – the retainer found his legs staggering before he collapsed on the ground in a heap. "You must… escape from here… my Lord."

It all happened with such haste. As the seconds slipped through the hourglass the patriarch of the mighty Imagawa clan found himself cornered in his tent by a half dozen invaders carrying spears. The one who spoke before – a peasant with a pair of light scars and scraggly dark hair raised his sword.

"For the honor of my family – Master Nobunaga will reward me with lands and prestige for this." In a blur of speed, the sword struck out at its target.

A second spattering of rouge liquid, and in a final moment, Yoshimoto felt his vision falling askew under the force of darkness. Everything was becoming so cold, and in one powerful gasp of breath, he reached with outstretched fingers, "Impossible…. This is now how things were supposed to end…. The capital was so close. Kyoto was almost within my grasp."

The sheen of silver struck once more. There was silence – until a powerful cheer erupted from the blood-splashed tent. "Yoshimoto Imagawa is dead!"


Naomori Ii staggered amidst a sea of enemies and reached for his sword with heavy breathes from his exhausted body. "Surrounded… but I will not surrender. No… I will not rest until I have fulfilled my obligations as a warrior."

Thoughts of his daughter flooded forth – he did not intend to die here until he could see her face once again. As the spearmen circled, he gripped the hilt of his shined blade with a sense of renewed vigor. "Naotora… we will survive this battle. We will overcome the hardships in our way and we shall meet again – my daughter.

With each powerful stroke of the sword the elder warrior – a veteran of combat in his own right, sliced down one foe after the other. With the power and grace of the Crane, he ended one attacker after another. Each precision slash dyed the clear as crystal rainwater in a deepest hue of red.

The adrenaline of battle coursed through every inch of his being. One strike powered the momentum to feed into another as his honed armament of combat brought down those who wished to end his life.

"I shall fight as though my body is a monsoon across the waves of the ocean." Casting aside his helm to flex the tense muscles of his neck, Naomori set his eyes upon a target just a short ways across the camp. Lord Imagawa's tent, he had to get over there and rescue his master before it was too late.

The sight all around was chaos – as foreign soldiers lay defeated all around him, others had not been so fortunate. He watched, his steeled heart holding fast as peasant soldiers and noble samurai alike were swept aside by an almost endless tide of enemy troops. However – the overlord of the Ii family felt it in his heart – resolve.

"There shall be no retreating – not until I have reached my goal." Wiping the red tinge from his blade, he took heavy-footed steps toward the tent of Lord Imagawa, slicing down any and all who dared to stand in his way.

With outstretched fingers, he yanked the opening of the tent apart. His nerve of steel collapsed in bit an instant – he felt it within his deepest core, hopelessness.

"You fiends," his voice boomed with a strength almost inhuman. Lord Imagawa lay there, still and lifeless in a pool of red. A group of five men surrounded his defeated form, the insignia of the Oda ever present upon their garments.

The power of his voice – it was enough to make the group of assassins turn all at once to face him. Their leader, a scarred peasant soldier, twirled his sword in hand and closed in for the attack, "It looks like we have another to deal with. Close in, boys… we'll make short work of this one."

Naomori took cautious steps back to prepare for yet another dance of combat. Hands slinked across the hilt of his sword, he anchored his feet into the muddied ground and let his lips curve into a bitter frown. "I shall avenge you, Lord Imagawa. On my honor as a retainer of the Ii family… I swear it."

However – his senses flared in alert as the audible sound of splashing footsteps closed in from behind. Turning one eye back, Master Ii let a disgruntled grunt escape, "Surrounded. Of course…."

Ten men stood at his back – all while five of them moved closer from the front. "I shall not die here…. I refuse to be bested by these commoners…."

"Aye, you can try, Samurai." The scarred peasant stepped forward first with another cocky twirl of his blade. "For once the common folk will have their day of victory. My name… is Shinsuke. Nothing more than a rogue good with a sword, but I tell ye now… once I claim your head too… I'll be made the master of my own house."

Such words were disgusting. Naomori only steeled his shaken core harder as he prepared to engage on battle. "You shall be made to know your place… commoner. For I shall not spare you or your men any mercy."

A glint of light – the common man known as 'Shinsuke bolted forth in a sheen of silver light, and just as quickly as he spoke, had he struck against the sword of Master Ii with unforgiving fury.

The bloodied sword of the retainer twirled in the air, and as it did so he felt his entire body surrender to a wave of powerful fury. "Impossible," his eyes narrowed, "To think I could be bested by one such as-"

The sharpness of mettle met with the gap in his armor – he felt it. A pain must supreme as the weapon of war tore into his mortal form and brought him falling to his knees with a violet cough of pain. A warmth filled Naomori's mouth – he tasted the coppery liquid in his throat – the sanguine liquid of life spewed forth.

"Not-" Master Ii ran a trembling hand across the length of his armor, "I cannot fall in such a place as th-"

A powerful stab – and in an instant there was nothing but darkness.

Shinsuke let out a dry laugh and his comrades followed suit, "These samurai forget themselves…. They fight in battle with such honor, and they fail to realize that us every day folk will fight in whatever way it takes to survive."


"Father… where are you?" A small girl wandered amidst a sea of bodies, her slender hands clasped together in fear as she trod between corpses, her robes stained red as she went.

There was nobody here – not a living soul, "Father!" It's Tsukiyo! Please!" She cried out again in panic as she searched the derelict tents. So many dead bodies littered the squelchy, muddy ground.

The young lady Tsukiyo felt her footing stumble in the wetness of the downpour. Sge fell face first into the mud. "This is terrible…. I want to go back home… back to the castle!"

A tear slid down her cheek as she hugged her arms around her chest. She felt no comfort. Loneliness and fear, both of these horrible emotions coursed through her body as she looked around through tear-misted eyes.

"Please… don't leave me alone. I don't want to be out here all by myself…."

Feet splashed through puddles – her ears flared against the audible warnings of people closing in. She looked back – her heart sinking with every passing moment.

"Hello…. Are you okay, little one?" However – a person she did not expect slid to a stop before her. A young lady with a tiny ponytail clad in form fitting battle armor to protect her ample womanly assets. Indeed, Tsukiyo had seen her before.

"Lady Naotora!" With a thankful yelp, the young girl flung herself forward and squeezed the older woman's middle with watery eyes of brown, "Thank goodness. I couldn't find anyone! Father is gone… and all of his soldiers are… are…"

"It's okay!" The lady of the Ii family held the girl close with a gentle smile upon her lips, "I promise… I'll take you to safety. The last of the soldiers are withdrawing…. We're going to leave with them before we run out of time."

A second set of footsteps, they stopped just short of the two women. "We need to leave… there's very little time left. Word is spreading at Lord Imagawa has already fallen in battle. If they box us in then we won't have a chance."

The voice in tow with those footsteps was smooth and gentle – serene amidst the battle. Tsukiyo looked up to see for herself. A young man stood before her and Naotora. Long, darkened hair rested below his shoulders and his muscular form bore the robes of a Ronin swordsman. His eyes held a powerful flare to them and shone the deepest green like emeralds. In his hand he held a large, serrated greatsword with an almost ghostly silver sheen to it. The blade – it flickered in the glow of the moonlight amidst the falling rain.

Naotora stood, still keeping her hands gently upon Tsukiyo's shoulders as she looked back to the man who held the sword, "This is Mister Zaisan," she spoke with a soft voice, "He is going to help us defeat the bad men so that we can escape."

"Shido-San," Lady Ii continued, "This girl is very important…. She's the daughter of lord Akihide Nishimura… one of the most respected families in service to the Imagawa. Word has it that the Nishimura troops have already withdrawn… we have to escort her to safety."

"Fine by me," the green-eyed Ronin threw his sword over shoulder and smiled warmly toward the young princess, "Promise you, milady…. We'll get you to safety!"

"Thank you…Zaisan," Tsukiyo blushed softly and hid behind Naotora, still clutching her hand tightly.

"Alright…." Naotora nodded to herself and gave a nervous smile. Turning back, she pointed in the direction of a blustery treeline to the north of the desolated camp, "Beyond this woodland is a small village. What remains of the Imagawa forces is meeting there to withdraw. We should head that way…."

"Very well – boss lady." Zaisan nodded with a crack of his knuckles, "Let's get straight to business."

Alas – the trio began their journey in the beating intensity of the rain. Smoke bloomed amidst the cooling embrace of the rainwater as their feet trudged through the sodden ground.

Lady Naotora held the young princess of the Nishimura family by her hand as her sword-wielding guardian acted as point man.

"Together," The Ii daughter sighed, "We'll have to work together in order to survive… Zaisan."

"Worry not," he shot back with a carefree smile as he sidestepped a burned out tent and approached the treeline. "You spared my life when you could've ended me, Miss Naotora. Way I see it… I'm in your debt until we can find a safe way outta this hellhole.

For a brief moment the rogue paused, his lips curved in a small frown, "You're the first person to show me some real mercy… for that… I'm grateful."

A warmth consumed Naotora's cheeks – a red flush consumed them and she froze for a moment, "Y-you're welcome."

The trees swayed in the rainy wind – their path ahead was clear. With the man of black hair leading the way, the three ragtag survivors kept on moving ahead. "Into the forest we go," Tsukiyo chimed nervously, "….I don't have a very nice feeling about this whole thing…."

"You and me both, milady," Zaisan grunted as he slashed through a pair of tall trees, "You and me both…."

Yet they had no choice – it was the only way to ensure their survival.

To be continued….


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