Takayama Tomoteru mounted his horse with the dexterity of a man who had mastered the saddle for years. The muscular steed snorted as it felt the weight of the samurai's armor. Tomoteru held the reins firmly and looked at the men beside him, all with the same expression of determination etched onto their faces.
Riding alongside Tomoteru was his closest advisor, Hattori Masanobu, his sharp gaze ever watchful, his hand always near the hilt of his katana.
"Sir, there are rumors that the Oda may be involved in this pro-shogunate offensive. Nobunaga is never satisfied with small victories. If given the opportunity, he may try to expand his influence over Settsu," Masanobu said, his tone carrying a hint of concern.
Tomoteru smiled slightly, his eyes never leaving the road ahead. "No. Nobunaga wouldn't move for something this small. Not yet. He has Kyoto in his sights and knows that a misstep now could cost him his campaign. Besides, it makes no sense to support the shogunate—it's a dying body. Nobunaga has his own plans. This is nothing more than the Ashikaga's last breath."
"Then you believe we'll only be facing the men loyal to the shogunate? No surprises?"
"There are always surprises," Tomoteru adjusted his horse's reins with a calculated movement. "But if another name is behind this, I doubt it's the Oda. For now, this is the Miyoshi's problem. And, by extension, ours."
The group rode swiftly, following the road through the hills of Settsu. It wasn't long before they reached the third defensive line. There, the Yodo River snaked alongside the positioned troops. The men, veterans of past wars, held their ground with discipline. In the center of the camp, a Miyoshi commander awaited them. He was a burly man with a stern expression. He didn't trust Tomoteru.
"Did you bring reinforcements?" he asked, his tone more of a demand than a question.
"And I will take even more forward. Three hundred men will follow me to the first defensive line," Tomoteru replied bluntly.
"Taking half the force from here to the front lines could be a mistake. This position needs to hold in case we need to retreat."
Tomoteru remained impassive. "If the first line falls, this position won't hold for long. The enemy cannot advance. It's better to face them before they get close to the south of Osaka and the castles."
The Miyoshi commander hesitated but knew that arguing with Tomoteru at that moment would be pointless. With a nod, he allowed the movement. "Then go," he said, watching as the men prepared for the march. "But don't expect me to come to your rescue if things go wrong."
Tomoteru met his gaze firmly. "I expect nothing from anyone, Commander. I only hope that when this battle is over, there will still be something left to defend."
The sky was painted in hues of orange, bearing witness to Tomoteru and his men's arrival at the Shimamoto Plains. It was impossible not to smell the metallic scent of blood and gunpowder, already saturating the battlefield. On the horizon, the menacing shadows of enemy banners fluttered under the setting sun, and more warriors were about to join the fray. The pro-shogunate armies had arrived first.
Tomoteru halted his horse atop a low hill, watching as the enemy advanced in formation, attempting to breach the Miyoshi defensive line. Spears were raised, archers were ready, mounted samurai clashed brutally amidst the ranks. The battle was already at its peak.
Masanobu, beside Tomoteru, glared at the scene with anger. "They've come in great numbers… They're pressing our line at the river. If they take Shimamoto, they'll carve a path to Takatsuki and Sawa."
With a swift motion, Tomoteru turned his horse and raised his hand, calling for his commanders.
Shouting.
"SPLIT THE MEN! THE CAVALRY COMES WITH ME TO THE RIGHT FLANK. WE'LL DRIVE THEM BACK TO KATSURA. ARCHERS, TAKE POSITION ON THE HILLS AND FOCUS ON THE ENEMY MUSKETEERS. IF WE TAKE THE FLANKS, THEY WON'T BE ABLE TO SUSTAIN THEIR MAIN ATTACK!"
The samurai cavalry charged down the hill at full speed, the pounding of hooves shaking the ground as the charge tore through the battlefield, unleashing cries of fury and despair. The earth trembled with the impact, and chaos erupted—swords slashed through the air, spears pierced armor, and screams of pain and rage echoed everywhere.
"FORWARD!" Tomoteru roared, wielding his katana with lethal precision, slicing an enemy soldier diagonally. The man fell at his feet, but Tomoteru wasted no time, cutting another down with a precise strike to the stomach.
Masanobu fought beside him with relentless ferocity. His speed was terrifying—within the blink of an eye, he cut down every opponent in his path. As he advanced, he noticed a group of enemy soldiers approaching from his peripheral vision. Without hesitation, he shoved his first opponent back before driving his blade into his chest. The remaining soldiers halted, hesitant to attack.
"They're hesitating!" Masanobu shouted.
"Keep up the pressure!" Tomoteru commanded, watching as his cavalry tore gaps into the enemy lines. The shogunate's ashigaru began to falter, feeling the weight of the well-coordinated assault.
The clashes extended to the rivers. At the Katsura River, 500 pro-shogunate samurai battled just over 300 pro-Miyoshi samurai in brutal hand-to-hand combat within the water. Their heavy armor made every movement difficult, and the current carried away corpses and shattered weapons.
Meanwhile, on the banks of the Yodo River, where the Miyoshi forces were more concentrated, another commander stood—Miyoshi Yoshitsugu, nephew and successor of Miyoshi Nagayoshi, the supreme leader of the clan at the time.
Leading a force of a thousand men, Yoshitsugu received an urgent messenger on horseback—a man drenched in sweat, covered in dirt, breathing heavily, barely staying in the saddle.
"Lord Yoshitsugu!" The messenger swallowed hard before continuing. "Tomoteru's forces are pushing the pro-shogunate troops back at the Shimamoto Plains! They're winning!"
Murmurs spread among the officers, but the messenger raised his hand, demanding attention.
"But… they're in trouble at the Katsura River. The shogunate samurai are holding firm, and our men there are outnumbered! If we don't send reinforcements, they'll be pushed into the river and slaughtered!"
Yoshitsugu clenched his teeth. He disliked the idea of splitting his forces, but he knew that if they lost the Katsura River, the enemy could reorganize and launch a counterattack.
"How many men are fighting at Katsura?" he asked, turning to one of his commanders.
"Possibly, we're short by 200 or 300 men, sir. They have the numbers, and fighting in water is hell."
Yoshitsugu spat on the ground and pulled his horse's reins. "Then let's even the odds. Bring the thousand men. We'll crush them at Katsura before they gain control of the river. If Shimamoto is already turning in our favor, we can't let this mess fall apart now!"
The officers nodded quickly and called the soldiers to action. As they reached the Katsura River, the sight was brutal and imposing. With a single hand gesture, Yoshitsugu ordered the advance, merging his troops with the samurai already fighting in the water.
Without hesitation, Yoshitsugu led his thousand soldiers forward, carving a path along the riverbank. Mud splattered beneath the hooves of the horses and the weight of their armor. As they reached the front lines, the pro-Miyoshi samurai recognized them, and cries of encouragement echoed across the battlefield.
"KILL THEM ALL!" Yoshitsugu roared, unsheathing his katana and raising it high. His soldiers responded with a collective battle cry, charging mercilessly at the enemy forces struggling in the water.
The impact was immediate. Yoshitsugu's reinforcements slammed into the flanks of the pro-shogunate forces, who were already weary from the prolonged battle. The enemy line began to collapse under the new assault. Now, the Miyoshi soldiers had the upper hand.