A Time Traveller's Guide To Feudal Japan

They listened in silence to the old man’s retreating footsteps upon the staircase, straining their ears as it gradually faded from noticeability.

Taking the return of complete silence as a signal, the master spoke, his top-knot wobbling slightly, as though afraid of the sudden movement.

"We have time."

Not quite sure what to do with such a statement, a question was forced.

"Is there something you intend to do?"

Running a finger along the short sideburns of his beard, he thought a moment.

"There is. You’ve captured my curiosity, with your tales of combative feats."

"It feels a little wrong to call them tales, Niwa-san, but I’d be happy to perform for you with my bow, if that’s what you’re getting at."

In truth, with such unnecessarily poetic phrasing, Nakatane had expected to catch the younger man off guard a little, but the boy responded as though not noticing.

’Just where did he become so familiar with such words?’

The anger he felt earlier had been borne partly of a disappointment. He had thought, toward this younger man, he had behaved charitably, and had felt rather pleased with his actions. And then, the guard had come to him in his moment of contentment – when even his daughter sought his company – and told him what he had. He had been especially vulnerable in that moment, when he expected the bliss to continue a while longer.

And so his anger had risen, and edged on by the guard, he had almost directed it entirely at someone who’s side of the story he had not heard. Now he was secretly glad that he had not done anything too rash.

"Ah, yes. That is what I was getting at."

He stood up, hands on h.i.p.s, and leaned backwards stretching his spine before letting out a satisfied sigh.

"Well, follow me lad, we’ll see what you can do."

Rising at his call, they tread barefoot down the halls and stairs in which they had come, this time taking an exit through a door located at the rear of the house.

Quickly finding his pair of straw sandals and fitting them, he turned to Gengyo, wondering why he had not done the same.

"One moment, Niwa-san, I’ll fetch my sandals from the front."

Realizing where he had erred, Nakatane quickly found a pair that looked as though they might fit Gengyo, and offered them to him.

"Here. May as well just use these."

Though the shoes were clean, and looked as though they were relatively new, Gengyo was hesitant about wearing them.

"Niwa-san... but do these not belong to someone else? They’d feel a little wronged if I were to use them."

The master shrugged.

"It shouldn’t be a problem, just tell them I said it was fine."

Still a little reluctant, as his own shoes were but a short distance away, Gengyo slid into them, realizing that the Nakatane was not exactly the patient type. Or perhaps he was more excited to see his bowmanship than he was letting on?

The grounds to the rear were far more spacious than one might have initially imagined. In it, there seemed to a dedicated space suitable to train anything.

There were not one, but two sandy sumo rings to the far right-hand side, and these were a good size too, at least four and a half metres in diameter.

There were a couple of guards training with bokken in a large square-shaped section of the courtyard, where the ground was made to be solid with smooth bricks giving the feet of the fighters a solid foundation.

And then, further to the left side of the grounds, there was an area that appeared to be dedicated almost entirely to archery. It seemed the guards tended to train with their bows in groups, as there were a series of 6 targets lined up, with a wooden wall behind them to catch any stray arrows.

Nakatane led him there.

"These are the 50 pace targets. You’d stand there, where the brick of the ground begins to meet with the gravel. See how it forms a line?"

Gengyo took in this information, glancing toward the straw targets that bore palm-sized red bullseyes.

Past this row of 6, there were three at the 75 pace range, and another one sitting at 100.

"What’s the test for bow ashigaru like?"

Having already been enthusiastically explaining various things to do with the shooting range, he was only too happy to answer.

"Good afternoon, sir."

His beginning was interrupted by a guard, who bowed lightly in greeting, before moving toward the targets bow in hand.

Nakatane regarded him lightly with a nod, before commencing his explanation.

"The bow ashigaru test is simple, really. At 50 paces you need to be able to the target 6 times out of ten shots, and then at 75 paces you need to be able to hit one out of five shots."

"In battle though, would you not simply be picking an angle and firing? There’s no real accuracy involved."

The master did not mind this question which may be viewed by a more uptight man as a form of impudence, as it was seemingly undermining the way in which he operated.

"Aye lad, I think so too. But that’s just the way in which it’s done. It’s a way of separating the workers into units, and at least this way they have to earn their position. If not, everyone would want to be bow ashigaru, would they not? It’s a lot safer than sitting on the front."

"Hmm..."

Gengyo understood the reasoning, which was clearly not that of Nakatane’s own, but he still felt dissatisfied with it.

"Well then young Miura, shall we see how you fare against the old test?"

He clapped his hands together, betraying his eagerness.

"I think I’d like that."

He had a certain degree of confidence in regards to the test. His own training had already surpassed the ashigaru test recently, especially with his training in motion, and the results of which were evident when one looked at the lifeless corpses of Kyougoku and his crew.

"Yanagizawa! Lend this lad your bow, would you?"

The master called out to his guard who was in the middle of firing his next shot.

The man looked disgruntled, and his thick moustache twitched. He stilled the tension in his bow, and un-nocked the arrow, looking Gengyo up and down. He noted his well-kept appearance, but the blackened rags that he claimed to be clothes betrayed his true rank. He was a peasant.

Evidently looking down on the man, he came over and held out his bow.

Grabbing it firmly with one hand, and looking the arrogant man in his eye, Gengyo paid a second insult to his pride.

"I will be needing some arrows, if you would."

Feeling a certain amount of rage at such a lowlife giving him an order, he looked to his master.

Nakatane’s only reply was a nod, as though he was oblivious as to the unspoken conflict in which the two had engaged.

It was a small smidgen of satisfaction that he received upon having the guard deliver him his quiver of arrows, but the disgust he felt at having someone evaluate him merely based on his birth had needed to be dealt with.

Now, he intended to teach this man a very valuable lesson. To teach him why the modern world had neglected to enforce the tradition of classism so strongly – though it was not as though it did not exist.

"Shall I begin?"

He asked, looking toward the master, who nodded, folding his arms in anticipation.

He toyed with the bowstring in his fingers, feeling the weight of its draw, and making the necessary adjustments in his head. It was 20 pounds lighter than the bow that he had made, making it a top of the range 90-pound bow.

The guard’s face was full of pride as he watched the youngster feel its draw weight. Everyone knew that the cost of such a bow was equal to more gold than a peasant family would see in their entire lives.

’I bet you’re loving holding such a weapon, are you not, peasant sc.u.m?’

The guard thought to himself.

Noticing his smug glare, Gengyo muttered a comment just loud enough for him to hear.

"A little lighter than I’m used to... but it’ll do."

The guard’s face went white. That was the last thing he thought he’d hear the boy say.

’Nah... He’s just making it up. 90 pounds is the top end for any bow.’

Nakatane had heard him too, and not knowing the true weight of the bow he did not show any surprise.

"Will it be a problem?"

His main worry was that the show that he’d been looking forward to would be ruined.

Gengyo shook his head, taking up and arrow and nocking it.

"No, it should be fine."

He breathed in deeply, and released, watching the path of his arrow with a tension in his heart.

SMACK

Thrown off by the weight of the bow, and overcompensating, the arrow had just clipped the top of the target, before missing and hurtling straight into the wood.

"Hahaha-"

The guard laughed loudly, before quickly reaching a hand to his mouth to muffle any further sound.

Nakatane looked appalled. He’d expected great things from the boy, given his account of the death of Kyougoku, but now all he felt was a dull sense of disappointment.

The guard moved forward, picking up the bamboo quiver, smiling like a lion upon seeing an injured calf.

"Aha, I better take these back, before you break any more arrowheads."

A firm hand on his wrist prevented him from going any further.

"Apologies. That shot was to test the capabilities of the bow."

The guard felt an acute sense of disgust at having a peasant’s hand in contact with his skin. Having to physically prevent himself from hitting the boy, he turned to his master once more for intervention.

Even he was doubtful at this point.

"Look Miura-kun... Sometimes when the moment demands it, people demonstrate skill far beyond their normal capabilities. I’ve seen it on the battlefield countless times myself. Shall we just leave it at that?"

Gengyo was adamant, his hand still on the guard’s wrist, as he stared him down with a fierce gaze.

"No, sir. On my honour, the next arrow will find its way to the centre of that bullseye."

Nakatane sighed slightly, waving his hand at Yanagizawa to stop.

’I suppose that is one of the limitations of being so young..."

He thought to himself.

With great reluctance, the guard released the quiver, and Gengyo turned back to the target, taking in a deep breath.

Nocking the arrow once more, he took aim after evaluating the previous shot in his head.

His fingers left the bowstring as one – a swift, clean release.

The arrow travelled straight, as though unaffected by gravity, and plunged into the soft straw of the centre of the bullseye.

He nodded with satisfaction, turning back to his quiver to retrieve another arrow, and taking note of the shocked countenances of the master and the guard as he did so.

The second shot was made in a similar manner, landing so close to the first that the sharpened point sliced through the fletching, sending the goose feather falling lazily down to the ground.

Transfixed by the motion of the fluff, a small smile began to break out onto Nakatane’s face.

’That was no fluke – this lad’s got skill.’

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