The fields of Yōsagen were famous ones. Or infamous if one considered the perspective of the Emishi people. It was thereupon those fields that Takimoto no Yoshinobu had scored a victory of such magnitude that it became known as the first of the 'Seven Victories of Yoshinobu' as it was there that he had quashed the army of General Harukor. Harukor had been famous for his loyalty to the Emishi people and had led an army of some eight thousand men against the southern force of five thousand.
The plains themselves were vast sloping southwards so that the southern forces were naturally at a disadvantage while the northern ones had some fifty kilometres to the north the Kurokawa behind it. The emerald fields were famous for their beauty and had before the battle been popular grazing land, however the people having heard of the fall of Yōsashima and the other eight forts that lay to the south-east of it and that stood between it and the principal fort of the Takimoto had fled with all their cattle. There was however still the repugnant stench of the cattle's remains that combined with the natural ones of the field, even as the suns' shone brightly down upon the wind-swept fields.
The grassy plains of Yōsagen, was where it was decided that the remnants of those forces loyal still to the Takimoto would make their last stand. The survivors of the nine forts of the north had gathered together behind the banners of three of the surviving lords; Hidenobu, Matayori and Yoshimata along with that of Takimoto no Nobuyasu, who had ridden north with but a dozen men to assume command of the large number of survivors.
In total he had under his command a combined force of twelve thousand men, as the Lord of Minamishi had sent some five thousand archers and ashigaru pikemen to reinforce their numbers. A close friend of Nobuyasu his fortress lay further to the south east near the Midoriyama Mountains, so that his home guarded the principal pass into Montō. His division of troops had been led north by his third son Takayuki who was an impulsive youth of twenty-three years old, a suitor for Himari's hand and considered among the mightiest of the warriors of the north. Six foot five inches in height, with a long bearded face, he was all muscle with piercing heavily lidded eyes that bespoke of savagery and fury. He was called the Demon Oga so that he was also in the eyes of all those in the north the most fearsome warrior of Miitsu.
On his arrival the surviving lords and Nobuyasu had cheered, and had welcomed him with more than a little relief. Their chances had seemed quite bleak, with only Nobuyasu still confident of victory, as he had yet to face the enemy and had not seen the skeletal warriors that had overtaken the northern fortresses. He also refused to believe that it had taken only one hundred men to take over each of the castles so that he was firmly overconfident of his chances for victory.
It was thus with more than a little satisfaction and more than a few boasts that he remarked when Oga had assumed a chair next to him in the bright blue pavilion that had been erected for the barons and Prince of the Takimoto with the cry of, "Victory which is already assured before the day was out, is now assured to be ours in this very hour!"
It was with a similar cry that Oga yelled, "I am glad you think so my liege! None can stand before the men of Minamishi, and those of the Takimoto together!"
This exchange along with the decision to ignore the messenger from Kawamoto, pleading that they avoid a direct confrontation was soon reported to the northern army. The spy that hurried over to their ranks was one that was dressed in the robes of a monk, for it was in reality one of the northerly monks from Torakawa who had slipped into the ranks of the enemy. Eager to keep their monastery from being sacked by Motonaga they had decided that it was best to pledge their services to him.
In all their assistance, along with that of the skeletal warriors that had moved from keep to keep had given the likes of the Shōtoku-Takimoto great cause for dismay and apprehension regarding the future, since father and son both held the view that monks should not be involved in war in this manner.
Turning his mind from this travesty of the oaths that the monks had sworn, and the reliance upon the skeletons to seize the northern fortresses of the Takimoto, and thus half of the kingdom they had built for themselves, Masaki was to return his mind to his study of what lay before him.
Where the enemy army had more than two dozen retainers and barons from all across the Takimoto lands joining together to discuss the matter of the stratagems they had in mind for the proceeding day, the Shōtoku-Takimoto had but two men. Masaki and Katsurō.
The two had gathered within the former's tent to discuss matters in greater detail than they had on the road there, or within Castle-Otahishi which they had claimed as their own but a few short weeks prior after one of Motonaga's skeleton warriors had laid claim to it. At present Katsurō was in the midst of moving pieces and bones about the map on the table, pointing out this detail or that one regarding them, and explaining his plan. It was one that had come to him just as he had arrived in the field and seen how the enemy had positioned themselves.
"Father, we have them positioned with their backs to the open fields and have positioned our own backs to the distant river which remains far away to the north." Katsurō reported to his father as he went over the map with his father in the man's tent.
The two were bent over the map that they had had brought with them of the main island of Zipangu, from the monastery of Midorinoki to the lands far in the south and west of Miyakō. It had had placed upon it several small animal bones places to showcase the enemy army, where they used the few miniature castles meant to symbolize the local castles that decorated the north-lands of the island. Eager to show how the enemy had arranged their superior forces, Katsurō had attacked the problem that was the enemy army with a vigour and intelligence that had astonished even his father.
"They still have superior numbers, we have three thousand men less than them now that the Minamishi men have arrived hither from the south," Masaki reminded his son worriedly.
Any other father might well have ignored his son, yet not Masaki. He knew all too well the value of his son's intellect, of his resourcefulness and of his capacity as a general for seeing how to best turn the tide of battle. Numbers meant nothing to Katsurō, they were but a mere number in the face of his genius.
"Perhaps, but those men are weary, and led by the impulsive Oga who burns with an unrivalled flame, he is a man from Montō after all." Katsurō retorted with a shrug of his son, and a mocking smile on his lips. "He and his forces are utterly inconsequential and incapable of deciding anything in the battle that is to come."
"You do not fear him?" His father asked slowly, startled by how quickly his son had dismissed the man.
"Of course not, if he had had any sort of strategic thinking he would have arrived later after the battle had begun, to tip the scales. He could have coordinated with Nobuyasu to engineer our downfall, using our own stratagems against us. However he did not, so that he is short-sighted and foolish." Katsurō retorted with a shrug of his shoulders, "In this regard he is similar to yourself father, when you chose that alliance with Motonaga over honour."
It was a stinging rebuke. The sort that might well have served to anger Masaki at one time, and yet he could not deny it. He knew his decision now to have been a short-sighted and foolish one. The man did not know how it was that Hidemasu had convinced him to betray Yoshinobu, and betray his honour throwing his lot in with the likes of the Emishi and other enemies of his clan.
Because of this he did not answer. He could not.
He only felt hurt that his son continued to refuse to forgive him. He loved him more than life itself and if his death could well have resolved the matter and liberated his son from his folly, he would gladly throw his life away.
When he said so loudly, Katsurō grunted, "It serves no purpose to say so now father, for now we must turn out attention to the matter of winning this battle."
"But how will we confront them now? To fight them directly could prove costly even though we have the higher ground my son." Masaki asked of his son, brooding in his mind over this matter, "I have no wish to lose any more men than we have already lost to Hidenobu, Matayori and Yoshimata's campaign thus far."
The war-campaign the trio of lords had engaged in whilst they waited for reinforcements from the south had relied entirely upon them attacking then retreating before their enemies. This manner of warfare having been of course adopted after they had lost their forts, so that they had done a great deal to weaken the northern army, whilst avoiding casualties for themselves. Each man that had passed was as a blow to Masaki who often fancied himself a sort of father to his men.
"We must also split our forces," Katsurō added as he took the bones he had painted blue marks onto to represent their own forces, "I will lead this division whilst you take command of the principal body of our army."
"Wait split our forces? To lead an ambush? From which direction?" Masaki remarked curiously, a hint of consternation in his voice, "Is that wise? They outnumber us by some three thousand men."
"It is, as they have a great deal more archers where we have a greater number of cavalry," Katsurō replied evenly.
"Much of which is untried, given that we have placed on horseback a number of the Emishi from the far north."
"They do not need to be fully tried, they need only know how to thrust a spear father!" Katsurō retorted impatiently, silencing his father who studied him quietly. "We will have a good number of those Emishi accompany me as I break off from the main body out east whereupon a number of them will follow me, then I will turn about to strike at them and cut them down. Wherefore the cavalry will strike the enemy from the rear, thus encircling them from that side."
"I should think," Masaki remarked as he studied the situation, "That given the foolishness of Nobuyasu I will lead the centre wing, but place our best troops to the west and have them spread out and make to encircle the enemy."
Now it was the turn of Katsurō to be surprised and to stare quietly at him. He had not considered this possibility, and was to consider his father's plan, "Will it be possible in the middle of the night?"
"But of course, I will have a number of flags arranged to convey our orders all along our line of men going west," Masaki retorted holding up one of the crimson flags he had brought with him. His son was to consider this idea, with Masaki adding with a chortle, "You see my child? I am no fool! I too can strategize and plan a battle."
"Very well, now we must rest," Katsurō replied coldly as he turned to leave.
"Wait, Katsurō, I would ask; have you written to your mother and brother recently?" Masaki asked desperate to stall his son's departure. He had no wish to see the youth leave, as they had hardly spent any time alone together since they had set out from Oyasippuri, in truth he had missed his son.
Katsurō was a man after his own father's heart, yet he was more than that. He was someone who was cast in the mould of his grandfather, who was a man who had gained a reputation for brilliance in war as in statecraft. He was a man who had transformed their family from a minor baronial one into one of the great clans of the north. It was this man that Katsurō looked most like and whom most reminded his father of, and in part the reason he treasured him so. He missed his father, whom he had been exceedingly close to.
"I will do so at once."
"Wait… do you really, not wish to spare even a moment with me?" Masaki asked his voice raw with apprehension and hurt. "You must understand that what I did, I did for the family."
"You did it for yourself, father, now if thou will excuse me I must away to prepare for this night." Katsurō retorted sharply before he left the tent, leaving his father to his regrets and thoughts.
Caught off-guard by this unexpected rejection, Masaki was to turn to his chair. Staring at the small wooden stool, he was to seize it and throw it across the tent. Panting after this fit of rage, he was to turn away finishing his cup of saké before he turned in for the night.
*****
Dusk fell, with the stars now peppering the heavens which were a dark shade of blue intermingled with blackness. Such was the vastness of eternity that stretched out overhead that more than a few thousand of the men gathered in those fields marvelled at them. Some such as Katsurō might well have liked to stretched out their hands to touch those heavens, yet knew he might never do so. They were unreachable much as he fancied the great men that were represented by the constellations were.
He had chosen to sleep outside the tent he shared with his father, and among his men not simply because of his refusal to spend any more time than he absolutely had to. It was a decision that had served to wound his father, who spent a portion of the night praying not for victory, but for his son's forgiveness. His choice in kami turned out to be that of Konohanasakuya-hime, for his wife had a fervent love for the kami. It was her view that it was thanks to this deity when the two had been once upon a time, in their fifteenth year of marriage struggling brought back together. It was this sincere faith that led him now to seeking to praying for his son to see that what he had done, it was for him.
As to Katsurō he had passed a portion of the night laughing quietly with his comrades, and eating with them. The men had at first been uncertain of the young master joining them, only for the man's innate warmth and sincerity to melt their doubts and uncertainties.
Both had fallen asleep early in the evening, as had their men. Every single one of the men was aware that the enemy would attempt a night-raid, so that they had prepared for just such an event.
This was why it was that he was to set off on horseback long before anyone else had awoken. The stars bright overhead still, he was to set out for the east-wing that he might gather what cavalry near it that might be gathered together.
Of the skeletal warriors that he had observed the worst to be Jin, with the captain of the skeletal bushi the one who had decided on his own that he would see to the sacking of the last of the northernmost castles to the east. It was a fortress by the name of Minamishi. A keep that dated to the time of the founding of the Second Wars of Darkness, and that was founded initially as a place of refuge from the invading armies from the Continent. It had been erected by Takimoto no Hidekatsu who had passed it down to his heirs. It was thus one of the oldest families that had reigned in the north since the time of the Wars of Darkness.
The thought of the sack of this last keep was something that had affected even Masaki, who had hoped that he might dissuade the skeletal bushi from doing so. The old man's hope had been to attempt to convince him of the merits of joining him in the battle that was to come. It was for this reason then that he hoped later to pray to the gods for forgiveness or otherwise found a monastery as penance. He owed the souls and lives of those of Minamishi no less than that.
Jin was a monster.
The Unliving creature had been summoned forth some days prior, not long after that man, the one herald of Yoshinobu had broken into the Emishi city and attempted to kill Motonaga. Since that time, Masaki had come to know him better than most of his peers and had come to the conclusion that the creature that called itself Jin was never a man. Or if he had once been one, there was naught of the man that he once was still left in him.
"Thou should see to the southern throngs and flies as thou sees fit, and leave the fortress of Minamishi to me and my men," he had snapped at Masaki after having seized him by the throat and pressing him against the wall of Oyasippuri.
At the time he could only gasp and choke before he nodded his head terrified of the hollowness, the darkness that he had glimpsed in the eyes of the darkened bushi. It was thus with more than a little gratitude that his son had not been present to see it and endanger himself in some foolhardy attempt to rescue his father or defend his honour against the monster, that the father had given the order for those of his men present with him at the time within the fortress hide what had happened.
Still, his mind often returned to that moment when it had been made explicitly clear to him; he was not the master and that Motonaga who was meant to assist them in ridding themselves of the meddling Imperial Court and petty Takimoto, had taken over as master of the north.
Tearing his mind from that moment as he sat thereupon his saddled horse, Nobumasa, his deputy commander at his side who was waiting impatiently for the enemy to begin to gather and prepare for their inevitable night-raid. A middle-aged man of forty-four years of age, the deputy-commander was a muscular man with a fine moustache crossed from cheek to high-boned cheek, full lips and a pointed chin inherited from his noble father, the previous steward of Castle-Shōtoku, and dressed in armour that was black in colour with gold trimmings and a large helm with the kanji for bear shaped emblazoned before it in gold. He was one of Masaki's dearest friends and a man he had long ago come to rely upon for both emotional and military support.
"I see them Tono!" Nobumasa called out pointing down the hill at where they could plainly see thanks to their torches past the stockade of outwardly jutting sharpened wooden points at where the enemy was gathering. "They will soon charge!"
"Indeed," Masaki agreed at once, "Let them."
The battle began hardly all that differently from the previous one. It happened that a number of war-horns resounded from the south, so that the southern armies were to cheer and yell invectives against the northern force that answered war-horn for war-horn. There was in place of a great and wild cheer, a stoic indifference almost coldness in response to the Takimoto forces.
Near to where Masaki was to be found, a crimson flag was lowered at the signal of the fifty-four year old man, which was what served to cause the west wing of the army to fold back. This all whilst his central wing waited for the first arrows that the enemy archers might hurl at them, so that the front line of the central wing broke and fell back, with the likes of Masaki to himself order a retreat.
"We have them! We have them at our mercy!" Nobuyasu shouted gleeful at the knowledge that he had reversed the onslaught of the enemy within a matter of minutes. "Quite how any of you struggled with them for so long, and Satomine panicked before them I shall never know!"
He could be excused for his arrogance, for he had never properly commanded so large a force (or any force for that matter). It was thus quite the shock when the west wing broke and fell back also. He had been surprised when first confronted by how the enemy had been drawn up in spite of the fact that it was the middle of the night, and now he simply assumed that they were tired still.
It was for this reason that he ordered the west wing forward, with Matayori already in the midst of doing so. The youngest and most impulsive of the three lords that had survived the initial onslaught from the north was to commit himself to the fighting with the same fury that a mother bear might in defence of her cubs. Knocked off his horse by a wayward spear, he was to regain his feet and shout furiously at his startled enemies who hesitated.
Some of those nearest to the man very nearly genuinely buckled and backed away, from the man who seemed more akin to a demon then than a man. He was as grand as the legendary bushi Satomine from the prior age.
In spite of his heroics even he soon realized something had changed in his enemies, when they came to a sudden halt and dug their heels into the ground. The enemy had reached the summit of the slopping hill to the rear of the enemy lines so that he took notice too late that he was now fighting more than ever before uphill.
This however was a microcosm of the larger battle, as others such as Oga soon took notice of how all had changed even as he fought desperately and gave the order to his men which he soon turned about, "Back! Back! We are being encircled! We must fight our way out from this!"
This sowed confusion and disorder he gave an order that none of his five thousand men had expected or could well have foreseen.
But each of them knew in their bones one simple truth: The tide of the battle had shifted.
It was irreversible now with the western wing, Masaki could discern now that dusk had begun to give way to dawn. The orange and yellow of the suns' against the clouds soon began to bathe the whole of the land in a light that seemed all at once warm and forgiving as it was enriching for those who were weary of the cold of night. The thought of the warmth of the twin suns' was nigh on enough to make their already boiling blood heat up all the more.
Such was the fury that drove every man forward, so that it made every archer both a-horse and not on horseback hurl his arrows all, the better into the enemy's ranks. It was this great downpour of iron rain that caused the Takimoto to suddenly shift from their continuous charges and retreats into what soon became ever more of a retreat.
The ride up the hill had cost them every single time they charged, eve as the arrows that rained down upon them with all the force of typhoon. All the more deadly than any flood that had struck the land of Zipangu in the previous twenty years, it took more lives than what anyone could possibly have accounted for. Each arrow found its mark, and each man that fell dead before the armies of the northern rebels began to encircle the west.
The centre retreated, up went their war-horns as always blasting through the hills, as through the slopes of the land all the way to the northern river that haunted the land and wept for the lives that had been lost along her borders. At the same time that this took place, the force of cavalry led by Katsurō turned at last to cut them apart with his naginata and the aid of his subordinates, so that they went on from there to throw themselves against the rear of Oga's army.
*****
The moment of shock struck with all the force of a tsunami so that the whole of the east-wing of the Takimoto army was thrown backwards. Surrounded this part of the army was to gape in horror as it found to its rear the Hokutō cavalry, to the east and north the ashigaru of the northern army. East and west had now fallen, with only the central wing of the army still left fighting with the likes of Nobuyasu to realize too late, where he rode near the rear of the army the pincer-manoeuvre the enemy had performed.
It was with a great chortle that echoed across the field that Masaki bellowed just before he blew into his war-horn, "Forward! We have the enemy! We have beaten the Takimoto!"
"Oh no! How could this happen?" Nobuyasu shouted horrified by the disaster he had been led into.
It was with a start that he was to be informed by one of Oga's messengers, "Yoshimata has fallen in battle against Katsurō! And my liege has escaped with his corpse."
"What? He has taken flight?" Nobuyasu shrieked just before he turned to shout at another man, "And what of Hidenobu and Matayori? Any news from them?"
The messenger shook his head too stricken with panic to truly answer him, even as he made to take flight for the south also.
It was thus that the upper command of the Takimoto's army took to the south, for the heartland of the Takimoto.
As the greater proportion of the remainder lords of the north present for the battle flew off whither to the south, to whence they had come from. It was at the sight of Nobuyasu melting away that Masaki was to let loose a great cheer. He was however soon distracted by his efforts to stamp out the now entirely surrounded and horrified masses of enemy conscripts, archers, ashigaru and bushi.
"Slay them all!" Shouted one man near to the commander of the northern armies.
"No!" Masaki yelled back startling the men around him, only to with a cunning gleam in his eyes remark, "Blow the horns, I wish to take them all alive!"
"But there are still likely near to ten thousand of them, Tono!"
"Indeed, and we will make use of them, in bolstering our own forces," Masaki stated with a smirk as he contemplated the vast rows of men. Killing so many could prove a crucial decision, but turning them against the enemy was all the better.
Of course, a great many were still to be slain as many refused to surrender out of sheer pride and fury as it was the forces of Masaki that had driven them from their homes. Once news spread though of his offer to return them to their homes and for them to should they prove themselves win vast rewards there were many who began to surrender.
In all, the battle lasted for six hours, with the initial phase involving Nobuyasu having lasted a single hour. When at last he had convinced the enemy to surrender, the lords of all three keeps were dead with their bodies accounted for (save for one of them).
Later when the northern army was to advance upon the principal fortresses of the Takimoto, it was with more than five thousand men added to their forces. So that in this way dissension and chaos reigned throughout the lands of the Takimoto.
Commanded to break the three lords, it was thus that Masaki and Katsurō outshone all their fellow conspirators and advanced into the heartland of the Takimoto's 'kingdom' as some had long ago dubbed it.