This year Shingen would turn fifty, and he felt a keen regret—an impatience with expectations of his life. I've fought too much just for the sake of fighting, he thought. I imagine that over in Echigo, Uesugi Kenshin is realizing the same thing.

When he thought about his worthy opponent of many years, Shingen could not sup­press a bitter smile for the man's sake. This same bitter smile, however, gnawed bitterly in his breast when he thought of those fifty years. How much longer did he have to live?

Kai was snowed in for a third of the entire year. And although it could be argued that the center of the world was far away and the procurement of the latest weapons difficult, he felt that he had wasted the years of his prime, fighting with Kenshin in Echigo.

The sun was strong, and the shade beneath the leaves deep.

For many years Shingen had assumed he was the best warrior in eastern Japan. Certainly the efficiency of his troops and of his province's economy and administration were respected by the whole country.

Nevertheless, Kai had been placed to one side. From about the previous year, when Nobunaga had gone to Kyoto, Shingen had thought about the position of Kai and looked at himself again with a new perspective. The Takeda clan had set its sights too low.

Shingen did not want to spend his life shaving off bits of surrounding provinces. When Nobunaga and Ieyasu were sniffling children in the arms of their wet nurses, Shin­gen already dreamed of uniting the country under his iron rule. He felt that this moun­tain province was only a temporary abode, and his ambition was such that he had even let this thought slip to envoys from the capital. And certainly his never-ending battles with neighboring Echigo were really only the first of many battles to come. But most of the battles he had fought had been against Uesugi Kenshin, and had consumed a large portion of his provincial resources and taken much time.

But by the time he realized this, the Takeda clan had already been left behind by Nobunaga and Ieyasu. He had always considered Nobunaga "the little brat from Owari" and Ieyasu "the kid from Okazaki."

When I think about it now, I've committed a great blunder, he admitted bitterly. When he had only been involved in battles, he had hardly ever regretted anything; but nowadays, when he reviewed his diplomatic policies, he realized that he had bungled the job. Why hadn't he headed for the southeast when the Imagawa clan was destroyed? And, having taken a hostage from Ieyasu's clan, why had he watched silently as Ieyasu ex­panded his territory into Suruga and Totomi?

An even bigger error was in becoming Nobunaga's kinsman by marriage at the latter's request. Thus Nobunaga had fought with his neighbors to the west and south and, at a single stroke, stepped toward the center of the field. In the meantime, the hostage from teyasu had watched for his opportunity and escaped, and Ieyasu and Nobunaga were bound by an alliance. Even now it became clear to everyone how effective this had been diplomatically.

But I'm not going to be taken in by their scheming forever. I'm going to teach them that I am Takeda Shingen of Kai. The hostage from Ieyasu has escaped. This severs my connection with Ieyasu. What other excuse do I need?

He had said as much at the military council today. Having heard that Nobunaga was camped at Nagashima and apparently locked in a hard battle, this astute warrior saw his opportunity.

Amakasu Sanpei asked one of Shingen's close attendants to announce his return. As a summons was not forthcoming, however, he made his request once again.

"I wonder if His Lordship was informed of my arrival. Please tell him once more."

"A conference has just now been concluded, and he seems a little tired. Wait a little longer," the attendant replied.

Sanpei pressed further, "My business is urgent precisely because of that conference I'm sorry, but I must insist that you inform him immediately."

It appeared that this time the message was passed on to Shingen, and Sanpei was summoned. One of the guards accompanied him as far as the central gate of the Bishamondo. From there, he was handed over to a guard of the inner citadel and led to Shingen.

Shingen was seated on a camp stool on the veranda of the Bishamondo. The young leaves of a large-trunked maple rustled speckles of light over him.

"What news do you bring, Sanpei?" Shingen asked.

"First of all, the information I sent you before has completely changed. So, thinking that something untoward might happen, I rushed here as fast as I could."

"What! The situation at Nagashima has changed? How is that?"

"The Oda had temporarily abandoned Gifu, and it seemed as though they were making a combined effort in their attack on Nagashima. But as soon as Nobunaga arrived on the battlefield, he ordered a general withdrawal. His troops paid dearly for it, but they receded like the tide."

"They retreated. And then?"

"The retreat seemed to have been unexpected, even by his own troops. His men were saying among themselves that they couldn't understand what was on his mind, and not a few of them were very confused."

This man is shrewd! Shingen thought, clicking his tongue and chewing his lip. I had a plan to bring Ieyasu out in the open and destroy him while Nobunaga was trapped by the warrior-monks in Nagashina. But it has all come to naught, and I have to be careful now, he said to himself. Then, turning toward the interior of the temple, he suddenly called out, "Nobufusa! Nobufusa!" He quickly gave the command to inform his generals that the decisions taken at the war council that day to depart for the front was being canceled forthwith.

Baba Nobufusa, his senior retainer, had no time to ask the reason why. Still more, the generals who had just now left were going to be confused, thinking there was no better opportunity than the present for smashing the Tokugawa clan. But Shingen knew, with a sudden illumination, that he had missed his opportunity, and that he was not going to be able to hold on to his former plan. Rather, he must quickly seek the next countermeasure and the next opportunity.

After taking off his armor, he met with Sanpei again. Sending his retainers away Shingen listened carefully to the detailed reports of the situation in Gifu, Ise, Okazaki, and Hamamatsu. Later one of Sanpei's doubts was dispelled by Shingen.

“On my way here I noticed the transport of a large amount of lacquer for the Oda clan, who are allies of the Tokugawa. Why are you sending lacquer to the Oda?"

“A promise is a promise. Also, the Oda might be careless, and as the packhorses first had to pass through the Tokugawa domain, it was a good opportunity to survey routes to Mikawa, but that has turned out to be useless, too. Well, not useless. The time may come again tomorrow." Muttering self-scorn, he unburdened himself somewhere in solitude.

The departure of Kai's efficient and powerful army was postponed, and the men spent the summer in idleness. But when autumn came around, rumors could once again be heard in the western mountains and the eastern hills.

On a fine autumn day Shingen rode to the banks of the Fuefuki River. With only a few attendants accompanying him, his spirited figure, bathed in the autumn sun, seemed to be taking pride in the perfect administration of his own province. His senses were attuned to the dawning of a new age. Now is the time! he thought.

The plaque of the temple gate read "Kentokuzan." This was the temple where Kaisen lived, the man who had taught Shingen the secrets of Zen. Shingen acknowledged the greetings of the monks and went into the garden. Because he really was just dropping by for a short visit, he purposely did not enter the main temple.

Close by was a small teahouse with only two rooms. Water flowed from a spring; yellow ginkgo leaves had fallen into the water pipe running through the fragrant moss of a rock garden.