The great hall of the Takeda estate was bathed in the warm glow of paper lanterns. Tatami mats stretched across the floor, polished clean, while banners embroidered with the family crest hung proudly upon the walls. Retainers stood in careful silence along the sides, their eyes fixed forward as the air carried the faint scent of burning incense.
At the center, upon a slightly raised dais, sat Lord Takeda Shingen, Eugene's father in this life. A man of commanding presence, broad-shouldered and sharp-eyed, his long beard traced his jaw like a river of ink. His armor, though not worn for battle this evening, rested nearby—a reminder that even in peace, war loomed ever near.
Before him, kneeling in formal posture, was Eugene. His back was straight, his expression calm, though inside his mind the familiar, analytical hum of the AI system pulsed like a second heartbeat.
[Lord Takeda Shingen. Current loyalty toward son: 72%. Evaluation of recent sparring victory: favorable. Predicted outcome of meeting: promotion of responsibility within clan hierarchy.]
"Rise, my son," Lord Takeda's voice rolled across the hall, deep and commanding.
Eugene obeyed, stepping lightly to his feet. "Yes, Father."
The older man studied him for a long moment. His gaze was heavy, piercing, as though it sought to measure not merely his strength, but the weight of his spirit.
"You've stirred quite the storm in recent days," Shingen said at last. His lips twitched, not quite a smile, not quite a frown. "Defeating Haruto in front of the retainers, handling yourself with the poise of a seasoned warrior. It has… unsettled the older men, yet inspired the younger."
Eugene inclined his head slightly. "It was only a training match, Father. Haruto is skilled, but I was fortunate."
The room stirred at his humility. Several retainers exchanged glances, whispering among themselves. But Shingen's eyes narrowed, sharp as a hawk's.
"Do not lie to me, Eugene," he said bluntly. "I've heard enough reports to know it was no accident. Your strikes were deliberate. Your movements precise. Even Instructor Ito admitted he could not read your technique fully."
The hall grew still. Shingen leaned forward slightly, his voice lowering. "Where did you learn to fight like that?"
Eugene's heart gave a slow, deliberate beat.
This was the question he had known would come. The secret of his reincarnation, the knowledge of his past life and the AI that whispered strategy into his mind, could never be revealed. Not yet.
He met his father's gaze steadily. "I learn by watching, Father. By observing not only the movement of the body, but the intent behind it. Each strike carries meaning. If one listens carefully, even an opponent's breathing reveals his weakness."
A murmur rippled through the hall. The wisdom sounded far beyond the years of a fifteen-year-old.
Lord Takeda chuckled, stroking his beard. "So. My son is not merely quick of blade, but quick of mind. That… is more dangerous than any sword."
His words carried both pride and warning.
Eugene bowed his head. "I only seek to serve the clan, Father. Nothing more."
For a moment, silence reigned. Then Shingen rose to his feet, his presence filling the room like thunderclouds before a storm.
"Very well," he said. "If you are truly ready to bear the weight of responsibility, then it is time to prove it."
He gestured, and a retainer stepped forward, unrolling a scroll. The parchment displayed the clan's holdings—villages, farmlands, roads, and fortifications.
"A neighboring clan, the Ishikawa, have been stirring trouble along our borders," Shingen explained. "Bandits raid our supply lines, peasants vanish in the night. Scouts confirm the Ishikawa are supplying these outlaws. I intend to send a detachment to suppress them."
The retainer bowed deeply, retreating after laying the scroll before Eugene.
"You will accompany this expedition," Shingen continued. His voice left no room for argument. "Not merely as an observer. You will command a portion of the men."
A ripple of surprise swept through the hall. Some retainers whispered in disapproval—entrusting men's lives to one so young? Madness. Others looked intrigued, their eyes flickering with calculation.
Eugene bowed low, concealing the faint smile tugging at his lips. This was the opportunity he had been waiting for.
"I accept, Father. I will not fail."
Shingen studied him, then nodded once. "See that you do not. War is not a game of shogi, Eugene. Men bleed. They die. Strategy on parchment is meaningless if your soldiers lack the will to follow you."
His words were heavy, carrying the bitter weight of decades of battle. But Eugene did not flinch.
[Mission objective updated: Lead men in border suppression campaign. Success conditions: victory with minimal losses. Secondary goal: gain loyalty of subordinates. Failure conditions: high casualties or loss of position.]
"Understood," Eugene said, his tone steady.
That night, after the hall had emptied and the household had retreated into quiet slumber, Eugene sat in his chamber, lantern light flickering across the wooden floor. His bokken rested beside him, though his mind was far from training.
The scroll lay unrolled once more before him, the inked map of the clan's holdings stretched out like a canvas of war.
The AI's voice whispered steadily in his thoughts.
[Recommended approach: Secure loyalty of key officers before engagement. Establish chain of command clearly. Introduce tactical innovations gradually to prevent suspicion. Estimated enemy strength: 300–400. Recommended force ratio: 2:1 for minimal risk.]
Eugene tapped the map thoughtfully. "We'll have maybe five hundred men at most. That means every movement has to count. If I can win with minimal losses, the soldiers will remember me. They'll whisper my name in their camps. Loyalty begins with survival."
He thought of the faces of the peasants, the farmers who would be caught between the Ishikawa's cruelty and the battlefield's hunger. If he succeeded, he wouldn't just be a prodigy in the dojo—he would be a leader in the field.
His lips curved into a faint smile. "One step closer."
The AI responded softly.
[Trajectory remains favorable. Probability of eventual dominance: rising.]
The following morning, Eugene stood in the training grounds, summoned to meet the men he would command. Rows of armored soldiers waited, their expressions ranging from curiosity to skepticism. Some whispered openly—was this truly their commander? A boy barely grown?
At their head stood Hiroshi, the spearman Eugene had saved during training weeks earlier. His loyal retainer bowed deeply.
"My lord," Hiroshi said warmly. "We are at your service."
Eugene's gaze swept across the men, his mind already analyzing. Their armor bore dents and scratches, their stances revealed habits both good and bad. They were not the finest of Takeda's warriors, but they were men with steel in their hearts.
He stepped forward, voice clear and unwavering.
"I am Takeda Eugene," he declared. "Some of you doubt me, and that is fair. I am young. But I tell you this—on the battlefield, I will not waste your lives. Every man here is my brother, and I will bleed with you, fight with you, and bring you home alive."
The words struck like a blade of conviction. Some soldiers raised brows, others exchanged glances. Even those who doubted could not deny the fire in his voice.
[Speech effect: Morale +12%. Loyalty increase detected among 27% of unit.]
Eugene raised his bokken, pointing it toward the horizon. "We march soon. Sharpen your blades, strengthen your hearts. The Ishikawa will learn that Takeda steel does not break."
A cheer rose, hesitant at first, then louder.
For the first time, Eugene felt it— the raw surge of command, the weight of men's trust resting on his shoulders. It was heavy, but it fit him well.
And as the cherry blossoms drifted on the morning wind, Eugene knew: this was no longer training. This was the true beginning of his path.
The path of conquest.