The Way Of The Warrior

Konishi Issen Ryutaro basked in the early morning sunlight as he sat with his legs crossed, a warm cup of tea in hand. He calmly watched as a lone cherry blossom fell from a nearby tree, delicately drifting in the breeze. In some ways it reminded Konishi of how a mother carries her child, with both care and delicacy.

He quietly sipped his tea, his mind deep in thought. He often found it relaxing to contemplate his life at times like this, it helped to get any thoughts or worries he had out of the way so that he’d have a clear mind for the day ahead.

What does it mean to be a Samurai? To devote yourself utterly to set of moral principles. To seek a stillness of the mind. To master the way of the sword. These are but a few of the things a Samurai does in his lifetime, but they are by far the most important.

To devote yourself utterly to the seven virtues of Bushido. Courage: to stand bravely in the face of the enemy, regardless of what consequences may befall you. Rectitude: to be righteous in every action you take. Benevolence: to voluntarily give help to those that are in need, regardless of who they may be. Respect: to value that which your lords, family, and ancestors have given you. Honesty: to never lie, no matter what the consequences of telling the truth may be. Honour: to be both noble and respectable in the face of friend and foe alike. And loyalty: to be faithful to your lords, your family, and the way of your ancestors.

To seek a stillness of the mind, something Konishi was pursuing right now. A Samurai was to always have a clear head, so that he may complete his tasks to the best of his abilities. This was no more apparent than in battle, where it was essential that he remained focused on what was happening then and now in order to survive and defeat his enemies.

And finally, to master the way of the sword. A Samurai would spend most, if not all of his childhood and adolescence honing his skills with the Katana and the Yumi, perfecting the martial arts, and learning to keep a cool head in battle. It was what made them deadly warriors.

Konishi’s train of thought marginally slipped when he heard the clanging of metal nearby. He sighed, taking another sip of his tea. His village was a peaceful place, so he wasn’t used to such noise at this time of the day. Maybe the calls of domesticated animals, or the sound of other Samurai training early in the morning, but not metalwork.

But today Konishi had not woken up in his village. Instead he had awoken in a large camp, home to some five thousand other soldiers just like him. And they wouldn’t have gathered in such large numbers unless they had a reason to do so. But today they had a pretty good reason to do so. To go to war.

Primarily between Konishi’s clan, the Oda, and a rival clan, known as the Takeda. The two clans had never gotten along with one another, and had been fighting for quite sometime. The first few months of the war were little more than a bloody stalemate, with both sides unable to make any permanent gains. But as of late the Oda had scored win after win, pushing deep into Takeda territory as they did so. They now found themselves on the doorstep of the Takeda capital itself, and looked set to end the war.

Which was exactly why Konishi was here, to end the war. Not just for his Daimyo, but for his people too. It had been a very bloody war, claiming the lives of both soldiers and innocents alike. Konishi was therefore as determined as ever to see the war end sooner rather than later.

Konishi sighed, his mind now clear of all troubles. He took one final sip of his tea, glancing at the camp around him. Despite it being so early, many of his fellow Ashigaru and Samurai warriors already donned their armour and seemed to be preparing to move out. He hadn’t realised it was that time already. Looking down, Konishi discovered he was only wearing his kimono, and had yet to put on his armour. Sighing once again, the Samurai put his now empty cup down, before making his way back to the tent he had spent the night in.

Inside the tent was relatively small, only having enough space for a makeshift bed, a stand for armour and weapons, and a some extra room so that he could strap his armour on. Most people probably would have complained about such small living quarters, but for a lot of Samurai, including Konishi, it was all they really needed. Anything else such as food and extra equipment could be acquired at one of the larger tents in the center of the camp, which was where Konishi had spent most of his time anyway.

The Samurai was interrupted from any further action by the sound of someone entering his tent. He turned to see an Ashigaru, a warrior of lower rank, standing before him. The Ashigaru quickly bowed, so as to not offend Konishi.

“Apologies for disturbing you Konishi-san, I am here to assist you with your armour”, he said, facing the floor the entire time as a sign of respect. Though Konishi was no Daimyo, ordinary people were still expected to show him and other Samurai respect.

“There is no need to apologise, you’ve come at the right time”, Konishi told him. The Ashigaru warrior sighed in relief before moving over to assist Konishi with his yellow armour.

The Gusoku armour weighed about fifty pounds, and while this was relatively light for heavy armour, it was still very hard for a Samurai to get it on by himself. Especially once he had the Do on, which somewhat restricted his movements.

Usually the role of helping a Samurai into his armour would be filled by the wife, but that was not possible due to the fact Konishi did not have one. There was a reason for this, one that had brought great shame to him and his family. His father’s dishonourable actions in battle. It had cast a shadow over the family name, meaning other Samurai families would not even consider him as a viable husband for their daughters.

Konishi couldn’t help but feel ashamed about it. Excluding an honourable death, there would be no way for him to save his family from generations of rejection.

With the aid of the Ashigaru it took little more than five minutes for Konishi to get into his armour. Content with how his armour felt, the Samurai nodded in thanks, before turning back to collect his weapons. He sheathed two swords, a longer one known as a Katana, and a shorter one known as a Wakizashi.

“Your horse is waiting for you outside Konishi-san”, the Ashigaru warrior informed him, answering Konishi’s question before he could even ask it. Konishi nodded silently in understanding before walking past the still bowing Ashigaru and into the morning sunlight. The golden crest on his helmet shone brightly in light as the Samurai wasted in no time in mounting his horse, adjusting a few straps to make sure it was comfortable.

As he did so a lone cherry blossom floated delicately through the air, landing softly on the Samurai’s hand. Konishi stared at it for several seconds, knowing exactly what a fallen cherry blossom symbolised. A fallen Samurai. Whether this meant he would fall during the coming battle did not matter though, he would ride out regardless. It was his duty as an honourable Samurai to fight and, if necessary, die for his Daimyo.

Konishi watched as the cherry blossom was once again picked up by the wind, slowly floating out of his hand and into the sky above him. Despite the potential omen, the Samurai began the short ride towards the rest of the army, a new sense of determination welling up inside him.

As he did so he promised one thing to his ancestors. That he would correct the mistakes of his father. Not just for his Daimyo, but for his family too.

(The upcoming battle is not based off any historical battle, this is so I can write the scene how I want. Also a word of warning, this scene is going to get pretty bloody.)

An hour later

The Oda army slowly marched through the dense forest, kicking up a cloud of dust as they made their way towards the last known location of the Takeda army. The army had been unable to travel through the forest itself, so all 5000 of them had to march down a small and very exposed road that cut through it.

Konishi was currently in the middle of the army, riding slowly alongside the infantry. Despite his elevated position on top of his horse, he found it hard to see into the forest itself. It may as well of been night, the tall trees above him were blocking out so much of the sun’s light that only a few slivers of it actually reached the ground below. That alone would have been enough to make the forest seem eerie, but unfortunately the lack of light wasn’t the only thing that had Konishi worried.

The forest was far too quiet. There was no talking amongst the troops, no bird songs, not even the faint of rustle of leaves blowing in the breeze could be heard. All Konishi could hear was the sound of footsteps and metal clanging as the army marched onwards. And even that seemed pretty subdued.

The other soldiers seemed to have picked up on this as well, especially the Ashigaru. While Samurai were highly trained warriors, these Ashigaru were no more than mere peasants who had been drafted into the army with little to no training. The difference certainly showed. While the Samurai kept a calm demeanor about themselves, the Ashigaru looked scared, and seemed prone to jumping at even the smallest of changes around them. Perhaps that was why there was no talking.

All of a sudden, the army seemed to just stop. Maybe something was holding them up ahead, like a fallen tree, or maybe their general had ordered the stop himself. Either way it certainly wasn’t helping the morale of the Oda troops, who had to stand still in an exposed position. The forest had at least some noise resonating through it before, but now nothing but eerie silence reigned over them.

It didn’t last long though. All of a sudden the wind seemed to pick up, bringing with it an thick white smoke that covered the entire road and surrounding forest. As if hadn’t been hard enough to see through the forest before, now they couldn’t see more than a few metres in front of them.

The silence was broken as sound of several loud horns pierced the air, followed by many cheers. What scared the troops most was not the noise itself, but the fact that it had come from all around them. It was almost certainly the Takeda army, who had now completely surrounded them. With added smoke cover they would be completely invisible up until the very last moment.

Fear turned to near-panic amongst the Ashigaru ranks, no one had expected the Takeda to use a tactic like this. Even Konishi was scared, how couldn’t he be? Completely surrounded by an enemy they couldn’t see, it was enough to strike fear into the hearts of even the bravest of Samurai. Even with years of Samurai training, you could never subdue basic human instincts. And right now his instincts were telling him to drop his weapons and run for it. He did no such thing though. He had promised to correct his father’s mistakes, and that was exactly what he was going to do.

“Ambush! All soldiers take up defensive positions!” The order was repeated several times as it moved further down the line. Even some of the Samurai seemed hesitant to move, but another round of hollering from their hidden enemy was enough to prompt them into action. They certainly didn’t want to get caught out of formation.

With the smoke still lingering over them, the army took up position along each side of the road, bunching up as much as they could. It was tactic usually used to improve bracing, but in this case Konishi was pretty sure it was mostly due to how scared everyone was.

Realising how hard it would be to move around on his horse, Konishi quickly jumped off it, joining up with the rest of the army. The horse seemed relieved, quickly galloping off into the heavy smoke.

Konishi was soon brought back to reality as another cheer echoed through the forest, this time from a lot closer. The Samurai unsheathed his Katana, taking a deep breath to calm himself. He couldn’t remove the primal fear that bubbled inside him, but he would make damn sure it wouldn’t affect him. If he was to die today, he would do it facing the enemy head on.

The sound of footsteps and metal clattering could be heard once again, though this time coming from beyond the smoky wall that encompassed the Oda army. Despite their fears the soldiers held their ground, their breath visible as a cold chill began to set in.

Suddenly the wall of smoke turned a dull orange, as if the sun was trying to pierce through and aid them in their battle. But instead of receiving rays of precious sunlight, they received a volley of deadly flaming arrows. Caught completely off-guard, dozens of Oda soldiers were cut down in the first volley alone. The eerie silence of the forest had now been replaced by screams of terror and pain.

The Takeda army switched to regular arrows for their second volley, though it did not dampen the effect it had. At least thirty more Oda soldiers were cut down in Konishi’s section alone, filling the road with a layer of dead and injured men.

Several arrows flew into the Ashigaru directly in front of Konishi, causing him to fall back into the Samurai. Konishi was quick to pull the body off himself, but not before he was smeared in the dead man’s blood, adding to the stench of sweat, iron and burning flesh that hung in the air.

Konishi was not so lucky as the third volley came flying in, an arrow piercing the back of his left leg. He cried out in pain, forced to drop onto his right knee as his injured leg buckled underneath him. He had at least been swift enough to avoid getting hit somewhere vital, or more than once. He would have been in a lot of trouble then.

Reaching down, the Samurai snapped the wooden part of the arrow off, hoping that removing the splintered wood from his leg would alleviate some of the pain. It didn’t, but it made it somewhat easier to stand again. Konishi had opted to leave the metal part of the arrow in, as removing it would likely end in him dying due to blood loss. Not something he planned to do.

It took Konishi a few seconds to realise the whistling of arrows had stopped. He squinted, trying to see what was happening through the thick smoke. He soon received an answer as hundreds of Takeda warriors appeared from the smoke, charging at the badly bloodied Oda force before them.

Surrounded by their fallen comrades, and with a fresh Takeda army charging them, most of the Ashigaru turned tail and ran. In their panic though they had forgotten that they were completely surrounded, and were soon met by another line of Takeda warriors, who slaughtered them without mercy.

Out of the 5000 strong Oda army that had began their march through the forest not more than an hour ago, only the Samurai and a few of the braver Ashigaru were left now. This included the somewhat injured Konishi, who used his Katana to support himself as he got back up. His was still in quite a bit of pain, but he knew he could cope with it. It was just a flesh wound after all.

It seemed the cherry blossom from early had spoken true, he would fall on this day. But it wasn’t fear that gripped him, only a heightened sense of peace. If he was to die on this day then so be it, at least it would be a worthy death.

Filled with a sudden burst of determination, Konishi let out a battle cry, charging straight at the Takeda soldiers. He was quickly followed by the rest of the Oda Samurai, all them charging into what would be a certain but honourable death. The Takeda let out a battle cry of their own, charging back at the heavily outnumbered Oda Samurai.

As the two forces collided Konishi deftly sidestepped an Ashigaru as he thrust his Yari at the Samurai, digging it into the ground instead. Konishi then stepped forward, slicing his foe across the throat before he could recover. Blood sprayed out of the Ashigaru’s throat, some of it landing on Konishi as the dead man fell to the ground. Konishi didn’t care though; he was smeared with the blood of the now dead Ashigaru from early.

Two more Ashigaru came at him, angered expressions etched on their faces after seeing Konishi slay their comrade. They growled, swinging their weapons in a blood-crazed fury at the Samurai in front of them. While their crazed swinging of sharpened metal was dangerous, Konishi found it somewhat easy to avoid their attacks. Obviously the two Ashigaru wanted to avenge their fallen comrade so much that they had forgotten how to properly use their weapons, instead opting to swing and stab at Konishi whenever they got the chance.

This was one of the many reasons a Samurai would always aim to keep a clear head in battle. Allowing yourself to get overtaken by emotions such as anger and hatred would only cloud your judgement, which would lead to foolish errors like those that Konishi’s two Takeda foes were currently making.

The continuous throbbing pain in Konishi’s leg reminded him that he wasn’t in any position to waste time. Spurred on by this, the Samurai went on the offensive. He focused his attacks on the nearest Ashigaru, pushing him back as he stabbed, sliced and swung his Katana at the weaker foe. The Takeda warrior stumbled back, a fearful look on his face as he tried desperately to hold back the injured Samurai. It was as if the Samurai before him had been possessed by a daemon, his attacks turning into little more than a blur to the naked eye.

The other Takeda warrior watched in surprise as his Samurai foe seemed to tap into a new well of energy, attacking his ally with previously unseen levels of speed and skill. Surprise soon turned to anger though as he watched his friend try defend against the whirlwind of attacks that were thrown at him. Overcome with anger and hatred, the Takeda warrior charged at Konishi, intend on impaling the red daemon with his Yari.

Unfortunately the Takeda warrior failed to recognise just how much noise he was making. Konishi heard the blood-crazed Ashigaru coming from a mile off, his armour clattering against him as he ran. The Samurai quickly formulated a plan in his head, all the while continuing his ferocious onslaught against the other Ashigaru’s defences.

He delayed his actions until the very last moment, when the Takeda warrior was right behind him. With agility akin to that of a falcon, Konishi leapt to the right, barely avoiding the bloodied tip of the Takeda warrior’s Yari. The Takeda warrior noticed this, but was unable to stop himself in time, impaling his ally instead. The unfortunate Ashigaru staggered backwards before falling to the ground, the Yari still protruding from his abdomen.

The other Takeda warrior was so distracted by what had just happened that he didn’t notice the silver flash in his peripheral until it was far too late. Konishi sliced his Katana across the Ashigaru’s leg, causing his Takeda foe to howl out in pain and drop to his knees. He then spun around, using his Katana to completely decapitate the kneeling man.

Konishi breathed a sigh of relief. He hadn’t expected untrained Ashigaru to put up such a fight. His sigh of relief was soon replaced with a groan as he fell onto his right knee again, grasping his left leg. Even with all the adrenaline pumping through him, the pain was only getting worse. The arrowhead was still deep inside his leg, but he was certain he would bleed out soon.

The sounds of death and battle echoed through the forest, reminding the Samurai of where he was. He wasn’t going to die like this, he was going to die honourably. Konishi gritted his teeth, trying his best to ignore the pain as he pulled himself back into an upright position. Once upright he swayed a bit, nearly falling back down again. The blood loss was starting to get to him, he senses starting to numb slightly.

Out of the corner of his eye Konishi spotted a flash of silver fast approaching him, but by that time it was too little too late. A sharp pain tore through the right hand side of abdomen, causing the Samurai to cry out in agony. His hand instinctively went over to the source of the pain, only to find a warm red liquid in its place. It was blood. He looked down to see a large gash going halfway across his abdomen.

He turned, albeit sluggishly, trying to find out who was responsible. Standing a couple metres away was a Takeda Samurai, his face covered by a mask. Konishi didn’t really focus on that though. His attention drawn to the Samurai’s Katana instead. It was covered in fresh blood, which slowly dripped off the sword. Even in his pained state, Konishi was able to put two and two together. That was his blood. The Takeda Samurai must have flanked him, striking a blow to his side before Konishi even knew he was there. It was a dishonourable move on the part of the Takeda Samurai. Samurai were supposed to face their enemy face on, regardless of the situation. Konishi fell to his knees once again, though this time he wasn’t expecting to get back up.

Time seemed to slow down for the Samurai. All around him his fellow Samurai began to fall, overwhelmed by the superior numbers of the Takeda. Some were stabbed over and over again. Others were cut down in a hail of arrows. And several had their throats slit, their blood spilling all over the place as they fell to the ground, adding to river of blood that coated the forest floor. But regardless of their situation, they all fell, until Konishi was the only one left. At least he assumed he was, he couldn’t see beyond the thick smoke that still lingered over the forest.

Time began to speed up again, returning to its normal speed as the Takeda Samurai moved to within a metre of him. Konishi looked up as the Takeda Samurai put his blade to his neck, the kneeling Samurai staring directly into his assailants eyes.

As he did so a lone cherry blossom fell from the sky, landing in Konishi’s bloody palm. Konishi stared at it, unsure if it was the cherry blossom from early. As the pink blossom began to turn blood red, the Takeda Samurai raised his Katana into the air, ready to take off Konishi’s head. Konishi payed no attention to him though, entirely focused on the now completely red cherry blossom. He clenched his hand, the cherry blossom disappearing in its bloody embrace.

Just as the Takeda Samurai was about to bring his blade down upon Konishi, the Samurai mustered up as much energy as he could, thrusting his Katana into his foe’s neck. The surprised Takeda warrior gurgled a few times, before his now lifeless body tumbled to the ground. Noticing their fallen comrade, several Takeda soldiers ran over to Konishi, quickly surrounding him.

Konishi propped his Katana into the ground, using it to help him up again. His legs felt weak, almost like jelly as he staggered onto his feet. Somehow though, using sheer willpower and most of his remaining energy, he managed to remain standing. If he was going to die, he was going to die standing.

Konishi unclenched his hand, allowing the bloody cherry blossom to float gently to the ground. Surprisingly enough the blossom had not been crushed in his hand, though the he wasn’t really focused on that. He brought his now free hand up to the gash in his side, applying pressure to it in order to try and slow the blood loss. Not that it mattered anyway; there were far too many Takeda soldiers for him to beat.

As the Takeda soldiers began to approach him Konishi raised his Katana, trying his best to fend them off. At this point though his vision had blurred, making it near impossible to accurately tell where his enemies were.

One of the Takeda warriors rushed at the disorientated Samurai, trying to catch him off guard. Konishi somehow managed to block the attack, albeit sluggishly. The force from the attack made him stumble back on his ever weakening legs though, almost losing his footing once again.

Just as the Takeda warrior was about to go in for the killing blow, there was a sudden flash of red. Konishi slammed his eyes shut as the blinding light consumed his entire field of vision. At this point he was unsure if this was really happening, or if he was just hallucinating due to the blood loss.

Either way, he was still expecting to feel pain as the Takeda warrior stabbed, and most likely killed him. It never came, which confused Konishi. Was this really how death felt? Judging by the screams of pain many of the Takeda warriors made when he killed them, probably not.

It wasn’t until he heard the chirping of birds that he was finally convinced he was still alive. Opening his eyes, he once again found himself in a forest. But this one was different from the forest he had been in mere seconds ago.

Where the forest had once been littered with the bodies of comrade and enemy alike, it was now covered in a multitude of flowers, some of which Konishi had never seen before. The smell was different too, the putrid stench of blood and burning flesh replaced by a more natural, flowery smell.

For Konishi it was quite the contrast. Just seconds ago he had been surrounded on all sides by the Takeda, destined to fall alongside his comrades. But now he was here, in a peaceful, albeit slightly dark forest, safe from harm.

But where exactly was here? Konishi knew he couldn’t be in the same forest, the trees around him were completely different. They were short and fat whereas the ones from earlier had been tall and thin. On top of that the sun was much higher in the sky, too high to have been able to move such a distance during the battle.

Perhaps a better question was how did he get here? He had travelled from one place to another almost instantaneously, something that until recently the Samurai had considered impossible. Maybe he was dead after all, and this was merely the afterlife.

That theory was soon torn to shreds when he felt the searing pain return to his side, now worse than ever. He fell onto his knees, coughing up a fair amount of blood. He may not have been dead yet, but he soon would be.

Konishi groaned weakly, falling onto his back. Above him the trees moved silently in the breeze, while rays of sunshine piercing through the canopy, gently warming his face. The Samurai sighed peacefully, managing to relax a bit. Dying from blood loss was not the most honourable way to die, but at least he had gained his wounds in battle. He just hoped that he had done enough to redeem his family's name.

His vision began to blur once again, the trees above him turning into little more than green smudges. Most people say their life flashes before them when they are about to die, but that didn’t happen to Konishi. Instead, he just lay there, a strong sense of peace washing over him.

He could have sworn he heard voices, but at this point his senses had numbed so much he didn’t really pay attention to it. The pain from his side and leg started to disappear, as if it had been magically washed away.

Two new smudges entered his field of vision, both rather colourful compared to the forest around him. One was completely purple, whilst the other was a mixture of yellow and pink.

“Um, excuse me, are you okay?” He definitely heard a voice that time, but he was unsure where it came from. Maybe it was his ancestors calling out to him, guiding him to the afterlife. Yes, it was probably them.

“I don’t think he can hear us”, said another voice, this one sounding more confident about themselves. At this point Konishi was absolutely sure these two voices were his ancestors. He needed to tell them where he was, so that they could find him. He wasn’t sure what would happen if they couldn’t find him, but he certainly didn’t want to find out.

“Ancestors…”, was all Konishi could muster before he fell into unconsciousness, certain he would be amongst his kin when he awoke. If only the Samurai knew just how wrong he was.