A Time Traveller's Guide To Feudal Japan

When morning came, it was the light of the sun that awoke them. They were more than groggy from their lack of sleep. Their head's rung from all the alcohol that they had drunk. Their clothes were soggy from due and their breaths misted in the cold morning air.

"Morning…" Gengyo put in quietly, his throat feeling hoarse. He could tell that he had spent a good amount of the night shouting and cheering, though he could not remember much of it.

A quick glance at the wooden cannonball crate told him that they had indeed fired all nine balls.

"Morning boss," Rokkaku said. He was up and grinning as though the alcohol had no effect on him at all.

"Too loud…" Rin hissed.

"What?" Morohira shouted as though he was deaf.

"Too loud!" She shouted back.

"What?" Morohira said again. It was then that Rin realized she was being teased. Her childish father was wreaking revenge on her for the sleep she had stolen from him a few days before.

Matsudaira was up already, tending to the fire with a diligence. He poked at the hot ashes, trying to get the dry wood he had placed on top to take a light. He'd sobered up, it seemed, for he was back to his usual serious self, though there were black bags under his eyes telling tales of how tired he truly was.

Gengyo was pinned down by the weight of his wife as she laid across him, her face snuggled into his neck, her eyes still closed tight in sleep. He smiled seeing her like that. When she was asleep, she seemed so weak and helpless, a far cry from the fierce warrior she was on the battlefield.

He was grateful for her company, especially in such cold. Where their bodies did not meet, he felt icy shivers. He wrinkled his nose at the weather, reminding himself that it was still only autumn, and they still had the true cold of winter to look forward to.

Matsudaira blew onto the hot ashes, supplying them with the oxygen to make them hotter. After a third gust from his lungs, the wood sprung into a bright yellow flame, crackling wildly.

Jikouji cheered his efforts quietly, raising a pumped fist before yawning a moment later. "Thank the gods for Matsudaira-dono, bringer of flame and warmth."

"Something like that," Matsudaira smiled patiently.

More of the men began to awake from their slumber, lured by the crackling sound of fire. Togashi awoke with a start, his eyes wide and wrestles. He sprung to his feet as though afraid, thinking himself to be in the midst of a batter. It took a few moments before he remembered where he was.

"A battle dream?" Sasaki asked understandingly, patting the log next to him, indicating that he should sit down.

"A battle dream," Togashi confirmed grimly. The men nodded their understanding. It was one of the drawbacks of a warriors profession. No matter how stoically they faced battle in the living world, fear would always worm its way into their dreams, forcing them to relieve battles that they had once won, over and over again, making them taste defeat.

"Which one was it?" Gengyo asked, quiet enough that he would not awake.

"Okehazama," he said. "It's always Okehazama. When Imagawa turned on us, and forced us to run to our deaths."

"That's it for me as well," Jikouji said. "Used to be other battles, nice and varied like that – I've fought my fair share of bloodied conflicts – but ever since that day, it's always that damnable Okehazama."

Matsudaira and Sasaki and the others were quiet with interest as they discussed such the battle that neither of them had taken part in.

"We experienced death that day," Gengyo said. "By all rights, we should have died."

"I don't feel human anymore, not since that day," Morohira said. Everyone turned to him as a result of his odd words. It was not like him to be at all poetic. "We had to become monsters, didn't we? Just to survive that madness? Even that did not truly help… We lost too many good men that day. Far too many."

"Monsters…" Matsudaira muttered, considering the idea. "That's it. That's what I first felt when I faced you in battle, Miura. You felt like demons. Unruly monsters with reckless passion, denizens of absolute chaos. Perhaps that was your power."

"Monsters?" Gengyo considered it. Considering himself a monster did not feel as wrong as it should have. "I suppose… To scramble up the mountain we aim to climb, human hands would not be sufficient. We need claws."

"And here we are, in chaos once again," Matsudaira said, pointing towards the Hojo encampment. "We're surrounded by our enemy, yet we feel comfortable. It's your nature, Miura. You find your order in absolute chaos. Anyone else would not be able to stomach it. The stress would be too much for them. To unify Japan as you seek to, one must fight every battle with all his strength. Death would be far easier."

Gengyo looked towards the Hojo camp, pondering his general's words. He observed the results of their nighttime antics. Several tents laid flattened in that sea of tents. The whole encampment was awhirl with activity. The men were likely too unsettled to even try to sleep.

"I do like a bit of chaos," Gengyo agreed with a smile.

His men saw that look, and they too began to smile. Those smiles broke into laughs, and for a brief moment, they forgot their tiredness.

Akiko sturred at the noise. She opened her long eyelashes, and looked up at Gengyo with soft brown eyes. When she recognized him, she too smiled. "Morning…" she said quietly.

"Morning," Gengyo said back. "Did you sleep well?"

"As well as I could hope to. It was no feathered bed, but I suppose it wasn't too bad," Akiko said, rolling herself to her feet. She noticed the fire out of the corner of her eyes and went to warm her hands by it, dragging Gengyo along behind her.