Snow had melted into mud by the time spring arrived in Kai Province. The cherry blossoms bloomed along the castle roads, painting the air pink and white, yet within Takeda's court, the fragrance of flowers could not mask the stench of ambition.
Eugene, now Hatamoto, felt the weight of eyes upon him wherever he walked. Some were filled with admiration, others with jealousy sharp enough to cut steel.
That evening, within the barracks of the Fifty Spears, Hiroshi approached, unease written across his face.
"My lord," he whispered, "rumors fly. Some say General Ishida has sworn your death. Others whisper of coin paid to shinobi in the mountains."
Eugene's expression did not change, though his hand rested lightly on the hilt of his katana. "Assassins, then. I expected as much. When one rises, many seek to drag him down."
Inside his mind, the AI's calm voice echoed.
[Alert: Increased probability of assassination attempts within the next 14 days. Countermeasures advised: increased night watch, decoy patrols, controlled exposure in public spaces.]
Eugene turned to his lieutenant. "Double the guards at night. And spread word among the men: whoever strikes at me will find steel waiting."
Hiroshi nodded, though his jaw was tight. "We'll watch every shadow."
The attempt came on the seventh night.
Moonlight bathed the castle courtyard in silver. Eugene walked calmly beneath the blossoms, appearing unguarded, a lone figure framed by the beauty of spring. Yet the AI whispered of danger.
[Heat signatures: three, concealed in rooftop shadows. Weapon glint detected. Ambush imminent.]
Without warning, black-clad shinobi descended, blades flashing like fangs in the dark.
The first struck silently from behind, but Eugene pivoted, his sword unsheathing with a hiss. Steel met flesh, and the assassin fell, throat cut before his feet touched the ground.
The second hurled a kunai, but Eugene deflected it midair and lunged, driving his katana through the man's chest.
The third, realizing his comrades had failed, tried to flee into the rooftops—but Hiroshi and two Spears emerged from the shadows, spears piercing him clean through.
The fight ended as swiftly as it began, the cherry blossoms once more falling gently… now stained with drops of blood.
Eugene cleaned his blade calmly. "So, Ishida truly sent dogs after me."
Hiroshi's eyes burned. "Shall we bring his head, my lord? Say the word."
Eugene shook his head slowly. "No. To strike openly now would brand me as reckless. Patience, Hiroshi. The snake will strangle itself if given enough rope."
His thoughts sharpened. But while my enemies waste time scheming, I will grow. My army will no longer be fifty. It will be five hundred… and beyond.
The following weeks saw Eugene acting subtly, building the roots of his future kingdom.
He sought out ronin drifting from broken clans, offering them coin and purpose. Some came for gold, others for the promise of serving under a genius whose victories already bordered on legend.
He visited villages ravaged by war, speaking with peasants whose sons starved or were taken by bandits. He offered them training, weapons, and protection. In return, they pledged loyalty not to the Takeda—but to Eugene himself.
[Recruits gathered: 87 ronin, 120 peasant levy, 34 disbanded ashigaru. Total strength outside official Takeda command: 241. Projected loyalty: 71% high, 19% moderate, 10% untested.]
The AI's reports filled Eugene with satisfaction. Each man added was another stone in the foundation of his empire.
But growth never went unnoticed.
During a council meeting in the great hall, Ishida could no longer contain his bitterness.
"My lord!" he thundered before Takeda and the gathered generals. "This boy gathers men in secret, drawing ronin and peasants alike to his banner. Is this not treachery? Does he not scheme to build a kingdom within your own?"
The hall erupted with murmurs.
Takeda's gaze turned to Eugene. Calm, unreadable. "And what say you, Hatamoto?"
Eugene bowed deeply. "My lord, every man I gather fights for your name. Bandits that once plagued your lands now serve as soldiers. Villages once starved now stand defended. I am your blade, sharpened with men others would waste."
His words were measured, yet every syllable rang with iron conviction.
Some generals nodded reluctantly. Others narrowed their eyes further.
Takeda stroked his beard in silence before answering. "So long as your blade points outward, Eugene, and not toward my throat… then I shall permit it. But beware—the higher the branch grows, the more the wind seeks to break it."
That night, as the Fifty Spears drank in celebration of new recruits, Eugene sat apart beneath the stars.
Hiroshi approached, kneeling beside him. "You defied Ishida before the daimyo himself, and lived. Few men could boast such fortune."
"Not fortune," Eugene replied quietly, eyes on the sky. "Calculation. I show Takeda enough loyalty to hold his trust, yet enough independence to build my own power. One day, Hiroshi, even Takeda will no longer be a master I kneel to."
The AI spoke once more, a whisper of inevitability.
[Projection: Within five years, probability of Eugene's independence war—78%. Recommended preparation: establish fortified stronghold under guise of border defense.]
Eugene's lips curved in a cold smile. "Yes. A stronghold, an army, and a crown. Step by step, the storm gathers… and I will be its eye."
The blossoms drifted down around him, gentle as snowflakes—heralds of a spring soon to be drowned in blood.