Bearing the onus of belonging to a disastrously defeated army, the men filed back to the snow-covered castle town, looking as though they were disgusted with themselves. The retreat went on from evening until after midnight.

The sky had turned red, perhaps because there were bonfires at each of the castle gates. But the red color of the fallen snow was clearly from the blood of the returning warriors.

"What happened to His Lordship?" the men asked in tears. They had retreated think­ing that Ieyasu had already returned to the castle, and were now told by the guards that he had not yet returned. Was he still surrounded by the enemy or had he been killed? Whichever it was, they had fled before their lord, and they were so ashamed that they re­fused to enter the castle. They simply stood outside, stamping their feet in the cold.

Adding to the confusion, gunfire was suddenly heard from beyond the western gate.  It was the enemy. Death was pressing in on them. And if the Takeda had already come this far, Ieyasu's fate was truly in doubt.

Thinking that the end had come for the Tokugawa clan, they ran with a shout toward the sound of the guns, prepared to die in battle, their eyes devoid of any hope. As a group of them jostled through the gate, they nearly collided with several mounted men galloping in.

Beyond all expectation, the riders were their own commanders returning from battle, and the soldiers turned their pathetic cries into shouts of welcome, waving their swords and spears and leading the men inside. One rider, then another, and then yet another galloped in; the eighth was Ieyasu, one sleeve of his armor torn, and his body covered with blood and snow.

"It's Lord Ieyasu! Lord Ieyasu!"

As soon as they saw him, the word went from mouth to mouth, and the men leaped in the air, completely forgetting themselves.

Striding into the keep, Ieyasu yelled out in a loud voice, "Hisano! Hisano!" as if he were still on the battlefield.

The lady-in-waiting hurried toward him and prostrated herself. The flame on the small lamp she carried guttered in the wind, casting flickering light on Ieyasu's profile. There was blood on his cheek, and his hair was in appalling disarray.

"Bring a comb," he said, sitting down heavily. While Hisano arranged his hair, he gave her another order: "I'm hungry. Bring me something to eat."

When the food was brought in, he immediately picked up his chopsticks, but instead of eating he said, "Open up all the doors to the veranda."

Even with the lamps flickering, the room was brighter when the doors were wide open, because of the snow outside. Dark groups of warriors were resting on the veranda. As soon as Ieyasu had finished his meal, he left the keep and went around checking the castle's defenses. He ordered Amano Yasukage and Uemura Masakatsu to guard against an attack, and positioned the other commanders all the way from the main gate to the main entrance of the keep.

"Even if the entire Kai army attacks with all its strength, we're going to show them our own force of arms. They're not going to take possession of even one inch of these stone walls," they boasted.

Even if their voices were strained, their aim was to put Ieyasu at ease and to give him encouragement.

Ieyasu understood their intentions and nodded vigorously, but just as they were ready to run off to their posts, he called them back: "Don't close any of the castle gates from the main gate to the keep. Leave them all open. Do you understand?"

"What? What are you saying, my lord?" The commanders were hesitant. This order conflicted with the basic tenets of defense. The iron doors of all the gates had been shut. The enemy army was already closing in on the castle town, as it bore down to destroy them. Why would he order them to open the floodgates of the dike, just when a tidal wave was at hand?

Tadahiro said, "No, I don't think the situation warrants going that far. When our retreating troops arrive, we can open the gates and let them in. Certainly we don't need to leave the castle gates wide open for them."

Ieyasu laughed and admonished him for misunderstanding. "This is not for the men who are returning late. It's in preparation for the Takeda who are coming in like an arro­gant tide, sure of their victory. And I don't just want the castle gates opened; I want five or six large bonfires lit in front of the entrance. You should also build some bonfires in­side the castle walls. But make sure the defense is strictly in order. Be very quiet and watch for the enemy's approach."

What sort of fearless counter-strategy was this? But without the slightest hesitation, they did as he ordered.

According to Ieyasu's wishes, the castle gates were opened wide, and blazing bonfires cast their reflections in the snow from beyond the moat to the entrance of the keep. After gazing at the scene for a moment, Ieyasu once again went inside.

It appeared that the senior generals understood, but the soldiers in the castle for the most part seemed to believe the rumor spread by Ieyasu's own officer that Shingen was dead, and that the advancing enemy had lost its foremost general.

"I'm tired, Hisano. I think I'll have a cup of sake. Pour one for me, please." Ieyasu returned to the main hall and, after draining a cup, lay down. He pulled up the bedding that Hisano had put over him and then went to sleep with a snore.

Not much later, the troops of Baba Nobufusa and Yamagata Masakage poured in near the moat, in readiness for a night attack.

"What's this? Wait!" When Baba and Yamagata drew up in front of the castle gate, they reined in their horses and stopped the entire army from running hastily ahead.

"General Baba, what do you think?" Yamagata asked, drawing his horse up next to his colleague. He seemed to be totally puzzled. Baba had his doubts as well and looked out toward the enemy's gate. There, burning in the distance, were the bonfires, both before and within the castle gate. And the iron doors were wide open. It was gateless, and yet there was a gate. The situation seemed to pose a disturbing question.

The water in the moat was black, the snow on the fully manned castle was white. Not a sound could be heard. If the men listened very carefully, they could hear the crackling sound of the firewood in the distance. And if they had concentrated both mind and ears, they might have heard the snores of Ieyasu, the defeated general, as he dreamed—the very heart of this gateless gate—inside the keep.

Yamagata said, "I think our pursuit was so fast and the enemy has become so con­fused that they've had no time to close the castle gate and are lying low. We should attack at once."

No, wait," Baba interrupted. He had a reputation as one of the cleverest tacticians in Shingen's army. A wise man who cultivates wisdom may sometimes drown in it. He explained to Yamagata why his plan was wrong.

To have secured the castle gates would have been the natural psychology of defeat in this case. But leaving the castle wide open and taking the time to build bonfires is proof of  the man's fearlessness and composure. If you think about it, he's undoubtedly waiting for us to attack rashly. He's concentrating on this one castle and is fully confident of his victory. Our opponent is a young general, but he is Tokugawa Ieyasu. We shouldn't step carelessly, only to bring shame on the martial reputation of the Takeda and be laughed later."

They had pressed that far, but in the end, both generals pulled their men back.

Inside, when Ieyasu heard his attendant's voice penetrating his sleep, he leaped up with a start. "I'm not dead!" he shouted, and jumped for joy. He immediately sent troops in pursuit. As might be expected of them, Yamagata and Baba did not lose their heads in the confusion, but rather threw up a resistance, set fires in the neighborhood of Naguri, and executed several brilliant maneuvers.