Tenno Heika Komei: The Battle Of Hitoshirezu-jo, Part I

To be a leader of men, whether in war or peace, one must know his followers as well as himself. At issue is a word that is greatly misunderstood and misinterpreted, and that word is: trust.

Trust in the Western world in leadership is thought to be a question of whether or not the men will betray their leader to the enemy or simply fail to exert themselves to the degree necessary to accomplish whatever task is set for them.

With Bushido, or the Way of the Warrior, all of the daimyo's (or, lord's) samurai are assumed to be absolutely faithful and prepared to strive for excellence in all things at every moment of their lives.

And so the question for the daimyo becomes, what tasks are each samurai individually capable of performing? This is what I mean when I speak of trust. I trust Ota completely, but do I trust him to translate English? If I did, I would be a fool, for I doubt I have heard him say ten words in his entire life even in his native Japanese. Do I trust Hara to lift a three hundred pound stone? No, because while his prowess with a bow and arrow verges on the sublime, his physique is reminiscent of the phasmatodea, or stick insect.

It is not enough for a leader of men to be trusted and served faithfully by his followers- he must reward that faith by knowing them in turn and utilizing them in a fashion that maximizes their capabilities and minimizes their weaknesses.

These were my thoughts as I strode among my warriors, their lacquer armor gleaming in the early morning light; the red and gold banners on their backs fluttering in the chill wind. On the horizon I could see a massing of dark clouds, and was hopeful for rain later in the day should the enemy attempt to fire the castle.

I stalked down the line, looking each of my lieutenants in the eye in turn and judging their characters. First, Sato: driven by the most savage and cruel instincts, he was most likely to be drawn out of position by the enemy early in the battle. Here was a man who would certainly have committed horrible crimes against humanity if not for his loyalty to his lord. Him I would keep by my side for use as a reserve, as his blood-lust would be stoked into a killing frenzy by mid-battle, and his sudden introduction to the fight would grant his comrades a boost of energy just as theirs was beginning to wane.

Then Hara: his bowmanship was such an art form- really an act of meditation- that he fired most shots without even looking at the target. I would place him in the center of the field and provide him with a forest of arrows so that he would be always firing, firing, firing from the first moment of combat to the last.

Ota: while I would very much have preferred to hold my strongest warrior in reserve, he was simply too valuable to leave off the field for even an instant. Indefatigable, intractable and seemingly indestructible, Ota would be the anchor that held my line intact.

And finally, my great-great-great-great grandson Fukimitsu. If there was any doubt as to character, it was here. Not to cast aspersions on the young man, but can any grandfather be the supreme judge of his grandson's mettle? By all appearances he would acquit himself with honor, but he had spent so much time dabbling in the ways of the outlanders that I could not with complete honesty swear that I knew him absolutely.

At every time in the past, one of the Magician's enemies had betrayed their masters and gone to him, from then on to be one of his lieutenants. Would Fukimitsu be that traitor? Savage Sato? Would it be seemingly superhuman Ota, the possibility of his mutiny seemingly inconceivable? Or would- for the first time- the Magician's hopes be dashed, his series of conquests ground to a halt here in the land of the rising sun?

Never once did I allow these questions or doubts to surface in my expression or bearing, as I completed my inspection of the men. Not only should a leader never appear to be without a plan, he must also never ask a question of any kind of his men. Everything must be given as an order. The question took form in my mind: where is the enemy now? and was instantly translated as, "Fukimitsu-san, report the enemy's position."

He did, informing me that the line of outlanders would arrive at Hitoshirezu-jo by noon. Just then, the cars conveying Shouhei, Shouta and Kisho Yoshida as well as our gaijin allies, Howland and Stroud pulled up the long gravel drive and up the hill to the castle.

The Yoshidas were hastily issued armor, bows and katanas, the young one Kisho nearly toppling over as his helmet was placed atop his slim, awkward frame.

Howland and Stroud approached, their attempts at bowing making a mockery of the act. While I knew very well that they despised the Magician as much as I did, my very bones screamed for their deaths with every moment they stood before me. Nippon's gifts to me had made me acutely aware of how much the outlanders did not belong here- in this world generally, Nippon particularly and this sacred castle specifically.

The man Howland spoke, and Fukimitsu translated. "Howland announces that he and Stroud are now engaged, and he humbly requests that you marry them here and now so that they may face their fates as husband and wife."

"I would just as soon preside over their funerals. Preposterous. As if I would ever bless a gaijin union on this holy spot." Keeping my face composed took no small effort. "Invent an excuse."

Fukimitsu did as commanded, and when he concluded the two were disappointed but apparently satisfied. I continued, "Tell the gaijin to wait until the enemy is packed in close before he uses the knife to destroy one of the charms. If fortune is with us, each charm will destroy the Magician's minions in a wide radius. Tell him to stay back with his woman in a rear position, though should the range of the charms be ineffective, I will call upon him to advance to the front."

Again he translated. He returned, "Howland informs your supreme majesty that there is no cause for concern. He says that he knows how to use a smart bomb. He says that he plays video games." I considered ordering Fukimitsu to tell me what the gaijin's gibberish was supposed to mean, but my great-great-great-great grandson had found the answer to be satisfactory so I decided to turn my attention back to my men.

The rest of the morning was spent checking and double-checking supplies, monitoring the movement of the enemy and maintaining troop morale, no small task considering the situation. However, while the men knew that the Magician and his forces were great and terrible, they were all well aware that we were the final line of defense against the ultimate destruction of not only Nippon, but the world itself.

In all, we spent our time attempting to occupy ourselves while waiting for the coming battle.

We would not have long to wait.