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Blood and Steel Central Japan Winter 1573 The thunder of charging horses gave way to the clang of swords as two armies met on a field in the highlands of Japan. From the saddle of his horse, Yoshiro Shimezu fought with a combination of power and grace. He whirled and slashed, maneuvering his steed with precision, all without hakusha, or spurs. The samurai did not use them. Clad in brightly painted armor, Yoshiro sported wide shoulder boards, heavy gauntlets and a helmet adorned with stag horns. He wielded a gleaming katana that caught every bit of the light as it cut through the air. With a flick of the wrist, he disarmed his nearest adversary. A backhanded cut followed, snapping another opponent's sword in two. As that soldier fled, a third foe lunged at Yoshiro with a pike. The tip struck his ribs, but his scaled armor that lay in pleats prevented mortal damage. Yoshiro wheeled around and killed the man with a downward hack. Free for a second, he turned his horse in a tight pirouette. The horse, dressed in armor to match Yoshiro's, reared up, kicking with its front legs and then leaping forward. Its iron-clad hooves smashed a pair of attackers in the face, sending them bloodied and battered to the ground. It came down on a third man, crushing him, but enemy soldiers were now massing on all sides. Yoshiro turned one way and back again. He'd taken the field against the Shogun, who arrived with overwhelming numbers. The battle had gone predictably and Yoshiro was facing the end. Determined to take as many foes with him as possible, Yoshiro charged the closest group, but they pulled back in a defensive formation, raising shields and long pikes. He turned and galloped toward another formation of troops, but they, too, held their ground, cowering behind a forest of spears. Perhaps they meant to capture him. Perhaps the Shogun would demand he commit seppuku in front of the court. Such an end Yoshiro would not accept. He urged his horse one way and then the other. But with each move, the foot soldiers drew back. Yoshiro pulled up. He had no wish to see his steed uselessly killed. It was a beautiful animal and his only advantage. Fight me! he demanded, turning from quarter to quarter. Fight me if you have any honor! A primal grunt caught his attention. A spear was hurled his way. With superb reflexes, Yoshiro parried the incoming missile, slicing through the wooden shaft with his sword, both deflecting and dividing it. The weapon fell harmlessly in two pieces. Do not attack! a voice shouted from behind the mass of troops. His head belongs to me. The soldiers straightened at the sound of the command and one section of the circle opened, allowing the rider to enter. Yoshiro recognized the silk draping of the horse, the golden breastplates of the armor and the winged helmet. The Shogun had come to fight at last. Kasimoto! Yoshiro called out. I did not think you'd have the courage to cross swords with me in person. I would not allow any other to vanquish a traitor, Kasimoto said, drawing a sword of his own, a katana like Yoshiro's, though it was a darker weapon with a thicker blade. You swore allegiance to me as feudal lord. You are in rebellion. And you swore to protect the people, not murder them and steal their land. My authority is absolute, the Shogun bellowed. Over them and over you. I cannot steal what is already mine. But if you beg for it, I will be merciful. The Shogun whistled and a small group of prisoners were brought out. Children. Two boys and two girls. They were forced to kneel while servants of the Shogun stood behind them with daggers. I have more than a thousand captives, the Shogun said. And with your rabble defeated, nothing stands between me and the village. If you surrender now and take your own life, I will kill only half the prisoners and leave the village standing. But if you fight me, I will slaughter them to the last