It was the year 1561, in Takatsuki Castle, Settsu, Japan, as a wise and experienced voice recounted the life of Takayama Tomoteru over the past decades. Seeking either a conclusive emphasis or not, that voice spoke:
"In the fourth year of the Kyōraku era, Takayama Tomoteru was born.
In the seventh year of the Tenbun era, when he had seen seven summers, Tomoteru was already being shaped by the path of the warrior. His father, Takayama Sōemon, though not a great lord, was respected among his peers. From an early age, Tomoteru's childhood had been severed by the edge of the blade and the weight of the name he bore. While other children played, he wielded the short sword, learning not only the art of war but also the precepts of Bushidō. His young eyes were as sharp as a hawk's, and within his heart, the desire to honor his lineage on the battlefield began to take root.
By the time he turned twelve, war was no longer a distant shadow but a thunderous roar close at hand. Matsunaga Hisahide, a lord of great cunning and ambition, had summoned Takayama Sōemon to join his army. A lord's call cannot be ignored, and so father and son marched to war. In the thirteenth year of the Tenbun era, Tomoteru, still too young to wield a blade on the frontlines, accompanied the troops, hidden in the shadows of the rear guard. His eyes witnessed the true face of war: not glory, but chaos; not honor, but blood.
At fifteen, Tomoteru was already a warrior in his own right. His once frail body now bore the weight of armor without hesitation. But war is not fought solely against external enemies. Within Hisahide's own ranks, treachery was brewing. Takayama Sōemon uncovered a conspiracy against his lord, and like a poison threatening the body, betrayal had to be eradicated. It was the first time Tomoteru raised his blade against an ally. When the blood dried, the treachery was erased, but a new burden remained in his heart. That night, his father told him:
"A warrior is not made by the blade he wields but by the mind that guides it. The true battle is fought within us first."
By the twentieth year of the Tenbun era, Tomoteru served Matsunaga Hisahide as a full-fledged samurai. Under Hisahide's banner, he marched alongside the Miyoshi lords, who ruled the lands of Kinai. It was during this time, the following year, that his firstborn, Takayama Ukon, was born.
By the time he had seen twenty-four winters, Tomoteru was already recognized as a leader of great worth. His name was no longer just that of a warrior but of a lord. Castles and lands were entrusted to him, and the blade that had once been wielded by an apprentice now upheld lives and loyalties. But Japan was a land of storms, and the tides of fate never remained still.
In the second year of the Eiroku era, a new name began to echo through the winds: Oda Nobunaga. His advance was like a wildfire sweeping through dry fields, threatening to consume everything in its path. The Miyoshi clan, once powerful, was now plagued by internal strife, and Matsunaga Hisahide, who held his position over Kyoto, saw the noose tightening. At thirty, Takayama Tomoteru kept his blade sharp and his spirit vigilant. The castles of Sawa and Takatsuki were under his command, guarding the roads leading to the heart of Settsu. He knew the Miyoshi's time was hanging by a thread and that the storm was drawing near."
"Forgive my bluntness, Master Tsubouchi, but if you are writing about me, do you really need to record so many details?" Tomoteru crossed his arms, eyeing the scribe with mild impatience.
Tsubouchi dipped his brush into the bamboo inkwell calmly, without raising his eyes.
"When a warrior unsheathes his blade, he sharpens it so that each strike is precise. Writing is the same. If a story is to be told, let it be clear, without gaps. Every detail can be the difference between a worthy account and one that is forgotten."
Tomoteru sighed, the weight of his concerns evident. "Master, the sounds of war are drawing closer. Settsu, Kawachi, Izumi… I have heard that the Oda are growing stronger. I do not fear for my life, for I have longed for war since I was young. What troubles me is the chaos… Disorder can wipe out an entire people."
The old scribe set down his brush and finally raised his gaze. "War does not begin with the first strike; you know this. War begins with the words that precede it. The Ashikaga shogunate is weakening. Nobunaga is a name that spreads like wildfire, among others who are bound to rise as well. In the end, no one wants to retreat or yield."
Tomoteru shook his head. "No. Because there are no options. We must hold our position in Kyoto, which demands more than just swords. Hisahide knows this. The Miyoshi… Not all within the clan are in harmony. There are internal disputes, mistrust. How can we face an enemy like the Oda or any other if we fight among ourselves?"
"Do you fear betrayal within the castle more than the enemies outside?" Tsubouchi admired the flocks of birds flying around one of the great plum trees in front of Takatsuki Castle.
"I wouldn't say fear, but I know they can be more dangerous. A blade that strikes from behind can kill an entire army without ever stepping onto the battlefield."
And he continued.
"My son, Ukon, is already nine years old. The time for his first training journey has come. War is everywhere, and I do not want him to grow up unprepared. The world does not forgive the weak."
Tsubouchi observed Tomoteru for a moment before speaking. "Teaching a son to wield a sword prepares his body. Teaching him to use his mind prepares him to live."
"And do you think these times allow for both?" Tomoteru chuckled dryly, a hint of disagreement in his tone. "If he survives, he will have time to learn the rest."
Tsubouchi was about to respond when a messenger, dressed in the colors of Settsu's forces, entered the hall of Takatsuki Castle and bowed quickly.
"Lord Takayama, there are rumors from our southern patrols. It seems that forces loyal to the Ashikaga shogunate are on the move. Their target may be this very place, Takatsuki Castle."
"How many are they?" Tomoteru straightened, his expression turning serious.
"Supposedly no more than twenty-five thousand men. The shogunate is weak; they cannot muster more than that."
Tomoteru exchanged a glance with Tsubouchi, then rose, adjusting his armor before addressing the messenger.
"Return and inform the defensive forces that I will personally lead Takatsuki's defense. There is no more time to hesitate."
The messenger obeyed, bowing once more before rushing out. At the same time, Tomoteru turned to Tsubouchi.
"I appreciate the conversation, Master. And for taking the time to write about me. Perhaps one day I would wish it to be so, but for now, my role is not to sit idly telling stories—it is to fight so that there is something to be written afterward."
Tsubouchi smiled, lifted one of the written pages, and waving it gently, said:
"Then go, and ensure that I have a good story to record."