The Takeda estate buzzed with a restless energy in the days that followed Lord Shingen's announcement. Servants hurried to and fro, preparing travel provisions and polishing armor, while blacksmiths worked their forges late into the night, sparks leaping into the darkness like fireflies.
The smell of oil, steel, and fresh straw filled the air as warriors sharpened their blades and tightened their armor cords. Every clang of hammer and snap of bowstring echoed with the promise of bloodshed.
And at the center of it all, in a quiet strategy chamber, Eugene bent over a map of the borderlands.
The room was dim, lit only by a single oil lamp. His eyes moved steadily across the parchment, tracing the curling ink strokes that marked villages, rivers, and the jagged mountains that separated Takeda lands from those of the Ishikawa. His finger rested on a small valley road where several raids had been reported.
[Analysis: Valley is prime ambush location. Enemy probability: 64%. Risk factor: supply line vulnerability.]
Eugene tapped the parchment. "So they'll try to cut us off here. Smart. If I were them, I'd set fire to the crops too. Starve the peasants, weaken the Takeda's foothold. Ruthless, but effective."
The AI hummed softly in his thoughts.
[Recommendation: Establish fortified checkpoints along vulnerable routes. Supplement with rotating patrols. Countermeasure: lure enemy into overextending supply raids, then ambush with concealed reserves.]
He smirked. "Not bad. But we'll add a little modern twist to it."
Sliding another piece of parchment across the desk, he began to sketch—simple wooden structures, ditches filled with sharpened stakes, and hidden pits covered with woven mats and soil. Primitive by modern standards, but devastating in this era.
When Hiroshi entered, he found Eugene still hunched over his work, ink staining his fingers.
"My lord," Hiroshi said with a bow, "the men are restless. They await your word."
Eugene straightened, eyes gleaming with quiet determination. "Good. Then let's give them more than words. Let's give them a plan worth following."
The following morning, Eugene addressed his unit on the training grounds. The soldiers stood in formation, their armor glinting beneath the rising sun. Skepticism lingered in their eyes, but curiosity burned just as fiercely.
At his signal, servants carried out several wooden models, each representing a fortification, a road, or a section of farmland. Eugene gestured to them with his bokken as if he were a seasoned general.
"Men!" His voice rang across the courtyard. "We march not just to fight, but to outthink our enemies. The Ishikawa rely on bandits and cowards' tricks, but we will not give them the chance to bleed us dry. Look here."
He pointed to the valley road. "This is where they will strike. I will turn their trap into their grave. We will dig concealed pits, line them with stakes, and place brush over them. When the enemy charges, their horses will stumble, their men will fall, and we will rain arrows upon them."
He swept his hand across the model, showing the arcs of fire, the flanking paths. The soldiers murmured, surprised by the level of detail.
Hiroshi stepped forward, his spear grounded in the dirt. "But, my lord, will this not require time? The men worry that the Ishikawa will strike before the traps are ready."
Eugene's lips curved into a sharp smile. "Then we build quickly, and we work smart. Every hand here knows the weight of a spade as well as a sword. If we move with purpose, we'll be ready before the Ishikawa even smell us on the wind."
The AI added its whisper:
[Effectiveness of speech: morale +18%. Retainer loyalty: strengthened.]
The men shouted in unison, striking their weapons against shields and armor. The spark of belief had been lit.
That night, Eugene walked the quiet corridors of the estate, the lanterns flickering as the wind stirred. He paused outside the sliding doors to his father's private study. A muffled voice carried through the thin walls.
"…he is too young, Shingen," an older retainer was saying. "You cannot trust him with men's lives yet. This is folly."
Lord Shingen's reply was calm but firm. "You saw the boy in the courtyard. He carries himself not like a child, but like a commander born. If he succeeds, the Takeda gain a weapon sharper than any blade. If he fails…" His voice lowered. "Then he dies a warrior's death, and I will have lost nothing."
Eugene's eyes narrowed. So that was how his father saw it—both test and gamble. Pride flickered in his chest, tempered by the cold realization that failure was not an option.
He turned away silently, his resolve burning hotter. "Then I'll give you no chance to discard me, Father. I'll rise higher than you could ever dream."
The march began at dawn two days later.
Five hundred men moved in disciplined columns along the dirt roads, the beat of their war drums echoing through the valleys. Banners snapped in the breeze, bearing the Takeda mon. Armor clinked and hooves struck the earth in rhythm.
Eugene rode at the front beside Hiroshi, his eyes scanning every ridge and treeline. His AI flickered constant readouts of terrain and potential ambush sites.
[Enemy contact probability within 3 days: 72%. Current morale: high. Supply status: stable.]
As they passed through a farming village, peasants emerged from their huts, bowing deeply as the soldiers marched by. Children pointed at Eugene, whispering, their wide eyes full of awe.
"Look! It's the young master!""They say he's as clever as ten generals!"
The praise warmed him, but also sharpened his resolve. These people needed more than legends. They needed protection, stability, hope. He would give it to them.
By the third evening, the men set up camp in the valley Eugene had marked. Fires flickered beneath the star-scattered sky as soldiers laughed, sharpened blades, and played dice. But Eugene remained awake, overseeing the digging of pits and the laying of traps.
Covered in dirt, sweat streaking his brow, he worked alongside the common soldiers, hauling stones and hammering stakes. Some gawked in disbelief—what lord's son dirtied his hands with such labor?
"Dig faster," Eugene urged, his voice steady but sharp. "Every trap we lay tonight saves lives tomorrow."
Hiroshi watched him with quiet admiration. "My lord… you do not command like a boy. You command like one who has lived through many wars."
Eugene met his gaze briefly, then returned to his work. "Perhaps I have."
The AI's whisper echoed softly:
[Loyalty of Hiroshi: max. Unit cohesion: strong. Probability of successful ambush: 81%.]
When the dawn broke the next day, the valley was no longer merely a road. It was a battlefield waiting to be sprung.
As the men ate their morning rations, scouts returned breathless.
"My lord! The Ishikawa approach—nearly four hundred men! They come down the valley road, unaware of our position."
A hush fell over the camp. Eugene rose, his armor gleaming in the light of the rising sun. He strapped his katana to his side, his face calm, though his blood surged with anticipation.
"Good," he said simply. "Then today, we show them the folly of underestimating the Takeda."
The soldiers erupted in cheers, stamping their spears and swords against the earth.
And as Eugene climbed to the ridge, gazing down at the dust rising from the Ishikawa column, the cherry blossoms of his vision seemed closer than ever.
This would be his first true battle.
And it would not be his last.