Author's Games: Samurai

Task One Battle Task: Oka Mori verses Toshihiro Ukita

Clan 11: Oka Mori

No entry - ELIMINATED

Clan 15: Toshihiro Ukita

  The sounds of shattered ceramics and loud impacts mixed with sounds of the battle raging around Toshihiro. Horse hooves smacked the ground and arrows whistled their deadly tune as they flew through the air. Trembles racked the ground he stood upon. Vases and trays clattered to the floor of abandoned homes. Throughout the small town the people led their terrified families to the castle for safety, ducking and racing around falling objects.

"Shiro e!"

To the castle! The earthquake had interrupted a vicious attack from the Mori clan, who had invaded a small town on the other side of the castle from the destroyed capitol. The newly repaired castle acted as a safe haven for the citizens of the town trapped in the raging battle. The Ukita numbers dwindled as Samurai racing to the castle to protect their loved ones. Seeing this, Toshihiro quickly responded by ordering his men to take defensive positions at the castle. He was determined not to allow the castle to fall prey to yet another defeat.

By the time the opposing clan's diyamo had seen the retreat and devised a plan of attack, Toshihiro's forces had nearly reached the castle. Suddenly, a cacophonous rumbling broke the air, followed by chaotic screams. Toshihiro pushed his men harder as he saw the entire south wall collapse, tumbling down the mountain like an avalanche. A section of the rubble splashed into the river below.

The breath caught in his throat. Who had been crushed in the collapse? Who would be killed in the oncoming fight, with their defenses already torn down? How could they be expected to win this? He could feel his hope being dragged down to the pit of his stomach, along with his heart.

Suddenly, resolve solidified itself in the sunken heart and drove it back to where it should be. With a swallow, he pushed everything he had been feeling far away, and focused on what he had to do, not what have couldn't do, or what he had already failed to do.

Halting their progress momentarily, Toshihiro turned to his men and addressed them at the base of the mountain. Many of the Samurai's faces still held numb stares as they gazed up the destruction of the mountain above them. As Toshihiro began dolling out orders, the change in his tone caused all speech to abruptly stop; the quiet, overly-caring tone had been replaced by one full of determination.

"Prepare for siege. Archers, take positions on outer castle walls. Shoot the ground enemies and anything that scales the wall." Turning to his highest ranking ronin, Toshihiro said tersely. "Take half the Samurai and station a few behind each wall. Get 20 barrels of boiling tar, and station a few men on the ledge above the opening. Periodically throughout the battle, throw tar on the attackers below."

Turning back to the men in front of him, Toshihiro took a deep breath and said, "I will take the other half and defend the gap."

Suddenly his voice raised slightly, and emphazied his speech with flamboyant hand motions. "Don't let anyone into that castle. Burn the siege towers. Drench flaming arrows. Cut the rope on catapults. Kill the battering ram operators. I don't know what they will attack with, but do whatever you need to do. You'll figure it out. We aren't going to let them win."

With that, the troops quickly split, and the ronin led his half away as the archers ran to the castle to take positions. Toshihiro's face was tense and stiff, yet betraying no emotion. He stared at the ground beneath his feet, shifting with every step he took.

When the men reached the base of the river and the rubble, Toshihiro listened carefully, to make sure there were no survivors that needed rescue. However, they couldn't spend time searching, so he pried his gaze from the pile and focused on protecting the survivors still in the castle.

The army raced up the hill and entered the castle through the towering hole. When they entered, they saw terrified citizens frantically pulling at the chunks of stone and wood in the rubble. He saw an arm emerge, covered in bruises and blood. Soon the whole body was pulled free and taken far away from the scene.

Long scratches covered his skin, many still bleeding heavily. He coughed weakly, and he saw his face tense in agonizing pain. The man's clothing was ripped and torn, frayed edges and gaps throughout. Toshihiro couldn't see if the man was dead or alive, but the initial observation didn't look good. Soon, all the citizens backed away, with whatever bodies they could find.

After a long pause and swallow, Toshihiro finally spoke. "Start moving the rubble...make a funnel...if you find anyone, help them." Toshihiro fought and failed to keep his voice steady.

Working alongside his men, the rubble was formed into a funnel shape, beginning at the edges of the gap, meeting at a small opening. The piles of rubble that formed it were built up as much as possible. If they could only deal with a few opposing Samurai at a time, it would heavily increase their chances. Suddenly, he heard a shout from the ronin above. "They're here!"

Quickly the battle ensured. Toshihiro's men hastily created lines. Some were stationed along the edges of the funnel to prevent opposing Samurai from climbing over the small borders. Toshihiro's nerves tingled with a toxic mixture of anticipation and terror.

They heard a cry as incoming attackers were doused with boiling tar. The tar stuck to the and continued to burn. The most affected fell to the ground, writhing in agony; others yelled and shook to try to rid themselves of the burning sensation.

Even though anything that decreased the opponents numbers should be seen as a victory, it was hard to call the scene before Toshihiro one. He watched as they screamed and suffered, and although it was not his men, it was so hard to see it as any thing but a major loss.

However, it was an attack on his clan, and loss would simply happen. It wasn't like the Clan hadn't seen their own share of loss. The attackers had overcome the initial wave of panic, and were beginning their assault once more. As he drew his Katana, the two armies clashed.

Almost immediately, Toshihiro was met with a sword slashing at his face from the side. Slightly off-guard but recovering quickly, he ducked and retaliated by swinging at his opponents arm. Sweat poured onto his face and his body was already beginning to protest from the strenuous walk up the mountain. Toshihiro was far too lost in the battle to notice.

His opponent's arm was injured, so the fighter swiftly switched his sword to his uninjured left arm. However, this was obviously his non-dominant hand, and his strikes were weaker and off-target. As the man brought his sword in a sweeping overhead strike, Toshihiro dropped his stance and drove his katana into the man's midsection. Turning away from the gore, he launched back into the battle with newfound hope at the decreased numbers of his enemy. With each person he fought, his resolve continued to grow.

He parried an incoming blade, and stepped to the side, spinning and holding his blade outwards. He struck the Samurai across the chest. He thought of all the people that were relying on him to continue doing what he was doing; even as horrible as taking another's life felt, it motivated him to know that there was a reason.

As he slashed at an opposing Samurai's exposed neck, he thought of his mother and brother, hiding inside of the castle. His mother would never be able to move fast enough to escape the attackers, if they were allowed into the castle. His brother, who had always cared for his mother, would never leave her side. It wouldn't matter how hard she would try to push him to safety. As the scene played out in the back of his mind, he swung his sword harder and ran faster. For their sakes, the destruction would have to continue.

Although many were already lost, he fought harder for the Samurai still fighting. He was defending Sakiko's garden and her legacy. He was defending the legacy of all those he had lost. His brothers. Sakiko. His father. Even the lowly messenger made an impact.

He was fighting for everything he and the rest of the Clan held dear. Their families and homes. Every face that flashed through his mind gave him a will to continue. It gave him a reason for the killing; an excuse for the inexcusable.

He heard a scream ring out from the general clamor. It was on one of the towering walls above him. The scream was followed by several more as it seemed the attackers had broken through. He pushed himself through the maze of walls and found himself on the scene of the break-through.

His men were fighting ferociously, but attackers were pouring on through siege towers. The attackers that had already found themselves in the castle could be dealt with, but he needed to stop the stream of fighters.

One of the siege towers had been lit aflame, but there were many still standing. Broken arrow shafts littered the ground, so Toshihiro quickly began to gather them. Once he had gathered enough he touched the ends to the flame, lighting the tips.

Before the fire could reach his hand he began to set them on the siege towers, or toss them onto different parts of the structure. The fire quickly began to spread, and the other defending Samurai had copied his attacks. Soon most of the enemy siege towers were simply ashes, or on their way to becoming ash piles.

Toshihiro began to feel his body slow and tire. His shoulders sagged and his arms laid almost limp at his sides. As hard as he pushed, he knew he could not stay awake for the entire battle, as they often lasted for hours on end. He eventually joined the ranks of the resting Samurai, on alternating sleep cycles.

His rest would be short but his body craved every moment of it. During the beginning of his slumber, his mind still focused and worried about what might be happening on the battle field, but eventually he succumbed to a deep, seemingly dreamless sleep.