Yagi Toshimichi's Journal Entry (Keichō 19, 4th of December, 1614)
The winter's chill has firmly settled upon the land, bringing with it a silence that blankets the encroaching violence. The Tokugawa forces have now reached the gates of Osaka, with no sign of Hideyori Toyotomi yielding to Ieyasu's demands. This final refusal to surrender sets the stage for the inevitable clash that will soon unfold.
As night falls, we prepare for the assault that is to come at dawn. The battle to break the defenses of Osaka has begun in earnest. Since the Tokugawa army crossed the Kizu River and pushed into the outlying fortifications, our forces have had no respite. The Kizugawaguchi fort was the first to fall, on the 19th of December, marking the first blood of this renewed conflict. Under the command of Hachitsuka Yoshishige, with support from Asano and Ikeda, Tokugawa forces broke through the defenses of Akashi Takenori, sending him into retreat. This early victory surely bolstered their morale, and the Tokugawa army pressed forward, capturing the outlying forts surrounding Osaka.
The defenders have fought back fiercely, making every inch of ground contested. Yet, despite their efforts, by the early days of January, the Tokugawa forces had managed to secure all these outer positions, though with considerable losses. It was evident to all involved that this was only the first phase of the siege. Within Osaka Castle, morale was low following these setbacks, and the defenders struggled to rally their forces. There are whispers that the inner fortress, while still standing, may soon come under threat.
Ieyasu and Hidetada, after successfully securing their position in the region, have set up their main camps with Ieyasu taking his place atop Chasuyama and Hidetada at Okayama. This forward positioning indicates that the siege will not be short, and preparations for a drawn-out battle are well underway. Tokugawa engineers have begun their work, digging trenches and fortifying the line around Osaka while constructing housing for their forces, suggesting they are bracing for a prolonged conflict.
On January 3rd, it was determined that the southern wall of Osaka Castle was the weakest point. Despite the Toyotomi forces' efforts to strengthen their defenses there, including the construction of the Sanada-maru, the southern approach remained vulnerable. This decision marked the point at which the Tokugawa forces would launch their first major assault on the castle itself.
Tomorrow, Maeda Toshitsune will lead the charge against the southern wall. His contingent of soldiers will be the first to test the strength of the defenders at dawn. If successful, the fate of Osaka will be sealed. Though Ieyasu's forces have been victorious in many of their engagements so far, the true test of their might has yet to come.
The cold morning mist lingered over the battlefield, casting a veil over the approaching storm. The Tokugawa forces, resolute and prepared, had begun their march toward the southern wall of Osaka Castle. At the forefront, Maeda Toshitsune led his contingent with grim determination, his boots crunching on the frozen earth as he advanced steadily through the winter morning. The sound of drums and war cries echoed behind him, growing louder as his men closed in on the target.
Maeda's eyes narrowed as the massive silhouette of Osaka Castle rose ahead, its formidable walls a testament to the strength of its defenders. He adjusted the grip on his spear, his breath visible in the icy air. "Prepare yourselves," he called out over his shoulder, his voice carrying through the ranks. "Today, we breach the walls of Osaka. Hold your positions and strike without mercy."
The men nodded, the weight of their task settling on their shoulders. It was a bold move, but necessary. The assault would begin now, at the break of dawn, to shatter the defenses and bring them one step closer to victory.
"We will show them the power of the Tokugawa!" Maeda shouted, rallying his forces as they quickened their pace. "The Toyotomi have defied us for too long. This will be their reckoning!"
The southern wall loomed ahead, a formidable barrier reinforced with the ingenuity of the Toyotomi defenders. Yet Maeda was unyielding in his resolve. He could almost taste the victory in the cold air. "Keep your formation. We advance in unison, as one," he ordered, his voice steely and commanding. "This is our moment."
Yagi Toshimichi marched steadily along the ranks, his senses keenly attuned to the rhythm of the advancing troops. Beside him, the steady presence of Mayumi Joutouguu stood out in the chaotic bustle of preparation. Her figure, clad in the unique armor of the Haniwa Army Corps, was a constant reminder of her unwavering strength and resolute command. Her loyalty to the Tokugawa cause was evident, even if her methods of leadership were unconventional for a human soldier.
"Keep marching!" Mayumi's voice rang out sharply, cutting through the early morning fog. Her tone carried the authority of one who had seen countless battles, her eyes scanning the troops with a practiced focus that came from years of guarding not just the physical, but the spirit of her army.
Within the fortress, Sanada Yukimura moved swiftly among his men, his expression steely and determined. He had anticipated this assault. His forces, though outnumbered, were no strangers to the harsh realities of battle. The narrow streets of the castle and its outer walls would serve as their shield, buying them precious time to hold off the incoming onslaught.
"Man the walls!" Yukimura shouted, his voice carrying through the air. "Prepare the arquebuses and arrows! Keep steady, and stay calm. The Tokugawa may have strength, but we have strategy."
Sanada's command was precise, his men working in unison as they positioned themselves along the ramparts of the Nisanadamaru, the outermost line of defense. The soldiers took their places behind barricades and firing positions, the clink of armor and the creak of wooden structures blending with the distant sounds of the approaching Tokugawa.
"Ready yourselves!" Yukimura continued, turning to his trusted lieutenants. "We'll meet them where they believe we're weakest. Hold until the last, and strike when they least expect it."
As Sanada's forces settled into position, the cold morning air was thick with tension, like the calm before a thunderstorm. The fortress walls loomed over the battlefield, their weathered stone a silent witness to the coming violence. Yukimura's eyes never left the horizon, where the first signs of the Tokugawa forces materialized from the mist. They were coming—fast, relentless, and determined. The rumble of their march reverberated through the ground, but Yukimura remained steadfast, his mind sharp as ever. He knew the terrain of Osaka better than anyone, and this, he believed, would be their advantage in the coming storm.
The first echoes of war came not with the clash of steel, but with the deafening roar of gunfire.
"Hold steady!" Yukimura commanded, his voice cutting through the chaos.
As soon as Maeda's troops entered firing range, the walls of Osaka erupted with a deadly hail of bullets. The sound was deafening—a series of crackling shots that tore through the cold morning air, followed by the sickening thud of bodies falling, one after another, to the ground.
The Tokugawa soldiers, unprepared for the ferocity of the defense, staggered back as the barrage tore into their ranks. Men collapsed to the earth, some twitching as their blood stained the frozen ground, others falling in unnatural heaps, their bodies crumpled beneath the weight of the gunfire. The air grew thick with the acrid smell of gunpowder, mingling with the metallic scent of blood as the battlefield erupted into chaos.
"Fire again!" Yukimura's command rang out, his voice sharp as a blade, cutting through the pandemonium of the battlefield. The gunners, unwavering in the face of the storm, unleashed another barrage. The deafening roar of the weapons echoed across the field, a savage choir of destruction.
The first wave of bullets tore through the Tokugawa ranks with brutal efficiency. Soldiers were struck down mid-step, their bodies jerking violently as they were thrown to the ground, their blood splattering across the frozen earth. The shrill cries of dying men filled the air, mingling with the constant rumble of cannon fire. Bodies piled up in grotesque heaps, limbs twisted in unnatural angles, faces contorted in terror and pain. The ground became slick with crimson, the snow turning dark with the lifeblood of the fallen.
"Don't stop!" Yukimura shouted, his voice hoarse with the intensity of the battle. "Push them back!"
But the Tokugawa forces were relentless. Those that made it through the withering fire scrambled forward, determined to reach the walls. Their bodies collided with the stone fortifications, their hands scrambling for purchase as they attempted to climb the towering barrier.
Yet they were met with nothing but more death.
The strategic placement of the Nisanadamaru proved invaluable. From the opposite side of Osaka's walls, additional Toyotomi forces—hidden in the shadows and fortified positions—opened fire with their matchlocks, the sharp crack of their shots echoing across the battlefield. The impact was immediate and devastating. Several Tokugawa soldiers, their hands still grasping at the walls, were struck down mid-climb. They fell in grotesque arcs, crashing to the ground with sickening thuds. Some landed in pools of their own blood, others collided with the bodies of their comrades, their final screams drowned by the chaos.
The Maeda warriors surged forward, their boots pounding against the earth as they pushed against the defenders of the Sanada-maru. But as they neared, the defenders, honed in the brutal art of survival, cut them down with brutal efficiency. Steel clanged against the fortified walls, and the sharp screech of metal on metal echoed through the battlefield.
One Maeda samurai rushed forward with a battle cry, his katana raised high, but he was met with the sharp snap of a Sanada defender's hands. The defender twisted his arm, throwing the samurai to the ground in a brutal jujitsu throw, his body slamming into the earth with a sickening crunch. The Maeda warrior barely had time to react before the boot of a Sanada soldier smashed down on his chest, pinning him to the ground. The defender knelt over him, swiftly slipping a blade between the gaps of the Maeda's armor, shanking him with terrifying precision.
Blood sprayed as the life drained from the warrior, his body going limp. Around them, the sounds of combat intensified. Samurai, ashigaru, and defenders alike collided in a vicious frenzy, bodies pressing together in a desperate, frenzied mass. Maeda warriors, fighting tooth and nail to gain ground, were constantly met with brutal resistance, each forward step a slow, agonizing crawl.
The battlefield was a chaotic nightmare, a scene of bodies piled high, the weight of the fallen pushing others against the stone edge of the fortifications. The thick, crimson flow of blood began to pool, staining the earth and mixing with the mud and frost. Some soldiers were shoved back, their armor scraping against the rough stone as they were pressed against the walls. Others, struggling for a breath, were helpless to stop the overwhelming pressure of bodies pushing them toward the brink.
With a sickening screech, some were thrown over the edge, their screams cut short as they plummeted to the ground below, landing with a wet thud on the frozen earth.
The noise of the battle, the screams of the dying, and the frantic shouts of the wounded echoed across the blood-soaked ground. To an untrained ear, it would have sounded like a terrifying orchestra—an unsettling symphony of agony and chaos. The grating clatter of weapons, the guttural cries of men caught in the throes of death, and the maddened shouts of warriors still fighting to survive—all merged into a cacophony that would haunt the minds of those who had never experienced the brutal reality of war.
But to the veterans of the Sengoku period, those who had weathered countless storms of violence, it was nothing new. It was an all-too-familiar roar, the guttural and primal sound of human conflict. It was the rhythm of death, the song of bloodshed. They knew the sound well—the wet smack of a blade sinking into flesh, the sharp crack of bone breaking underfoot, and the harsh, rasping breath of a man fighting to stay alive. To them, it was nothing more than the inevitable, the cruel consequence of a world at war. They had lived it, and many had died by it.
Maeda Toshitsune, bloodied and battered, stood at the rear of his retreating forces, his eyes scanning the battlefield with a grim determination. The push had faltered, the weight of casualties too great to ignore. His warriors were falling back, those who could still fight scrambling to escape the onslaught of Sanada's defenders. With a sharp curse, Maeda barked at his men, "Fall back! We can't hold this position any longer—retreat!"
The Maeda forces began to retreat in disarray, struggling to maintain some semblance of order as they stumbled away from the walls. Amidst the chaos, Yagi Toshimichi, who had been struggling to rise after his fall, was kicked back violently by a retreating soldier. His body crashed into the earth, and before he could make sense of the situation, he felt himself tumbling, the world spinning as he fell into a large ditch.
Mayumi, her eyes sharp and full of purpose, noticed him fall and rushed toward him. She reached down, her grip strong, pulling him up with a force that belied her appearance. "Get up, Yagi!" she hissed, her voice full of urgency. "We can't stay here!"
Yagi groaned, his body aching from the fall, the pain in his thigh like a fire that refused to go out. His vision blurred for a moment, but he blinked and tried to push himself up, only to be met with Mayumi's steady hand on his arm.
"You're not leaving me behind," she said, her voice low but commanding. "We're going together, understand?"
Yagi tried to nod, but the effort was too much. His body was on the verge of shutting down, the adrenaline of battle draining away quickly.
Mayumi didn't hesitate. With one powerful yank, she hauled him up, dragging him back toward the retreating forces. As they moved, the chaos around them was almost overwhelming—men falling, horses screaming, and the cacophony of war all around. But Mayumi's focus was unwavering, her resolve like iron as she pulled Yagi along.
"Move, Yagi!" she urged, her tone tinged with frustration.
Yagi's breath came in shallow gasps, but he gritted his teeth and nodded, unwilling to fall behind. The battlefield was quickly shifting—Maeda's retreat was well underway, and they needed to escape before the Tokugawa forces fully encircled them.