Kaisen and Shingen had had a deep understanding of the heart, and Shingen's rever­ence for the old abbot had been extraordinarily deep. But Kaisen had also believed strongly in Shingen—he was a dragon among men; a mythical fiery horse from the heav­ens. But while he praised Shingen so highly, he never compared him with his son, Katsu­yori, or considered the latter to be unworthy by contrast.

On the contrary, he viewed Katsuyori with sympathy. If someone criticized Katsuyori's mistakes, Kaisen always responded that it was unreasonable to expect more; his fa­ther had simply been too great a man. Kaisen did, perhaps, feel one small dissatisfaction: certainly if Shingen had lived on until now, his influence would not have been restricted to the province of Kai; he would have put his great ability and genius to work on some­thing of greater significance. And now Kaisen regretted that Shingen had not survived. The man who had perceived something of greater significance was Nobunaga. It was he who had broadened the provincial role of the samurai to one of national importance. And it was Nobunaga who had even showed himself to be a model retainer. Kaisen's ex­pectations for Katsuyori, who did not have the character of his father, had absolutely dis­appeared. The abbot clearly perceived that the long civil war was over.

So, to help Katsuyori force the troops of the Oda to kneel to him, or to plan some safe solution was impossible. The Takeda clan had been founded centuries before, and Shingen's name had shone too brightly in the sky: Katsuyori was not going to beg for ca­pitulation at Nobunaga's feet.

Takeda Katsuyori had a strong will and knew a sense of shame. Among the common people of the province, there were voices saying that the government had declined since the time of Shingen, and the levying of heavy taxes was perceived as a major cause of the complaints. But Kaisen knew that Katsuyori had not levied taxes for his own luxury or pride. Every tax had been directed toward military expenditure. In the last few years, military tactics and technology had been progressing in rapid strides in the capital and even in the neighboring provinces. But Katsuyori could not afford to spend as much money on new weapons as his rivals.

"Please take care of yourself," Kaisen told Katsuyori as he prepared to leave.

"Are you going back to the temple already?" There were still many questions Katsuyori wanted to ask, but he knew that the answers to whatever he asked would be the same. He pressed his palms to the floor in reverence. "This is, perhaps, the last time I will see you."

Kaisen put his hands, draped with a string of prayer beads, to the floor and left without another word.

The Fall of the Takeda

"Let's spend this spring in the Kai mountains," Nobunaga said as he rode out of Azuchi at the head of his army. "We can view the cherry blossoms, pick flowers, and then sightsee around Mount Fuji on the coast on our way back."

The success of the expedition against Kai seemed assured this time, and the army’s departure was almost leisurely. By the tenth day of the Second Month, the army had reached Shinano and had completed the disposition of men at the entrances to Ina, Kiso, and Hida. The Hojo clan would enter from the east, while the Tokugawa would attack from Suruga.

In comparison with the battles of the Ane River and Nagashino, Nobunaga was invading Kai as serenely as he might have gone out to pick vegetables from a garden. In the middle of the enemy province were forces that were no longer considered to be enemies at all. Both Naegi Kyubei of Naegi Castle and Kiso Yoshimasa of Fukushima were men who were eagerly waiting for Nobunaga's arrival, not Katsuyori's; and the troops that marched from Gifu into Iwamura did so without encountering any resistance. The various fortresses of the Takeda had been abandoned to the wind. When night turned to dawn, both Matsuo Castle and the castle at Iida were nothing but empty shells.

"We have advanced to Ina and found barely an enemy soldier to defend it."

That was the report Nobunaga received at the entrance to Kiso. There the soldiers also joked among themselves that their advance was almost too easy to be satisfying. What had made the Takeda so fragile? The cause was complicated, but the answer could be put into simple terms. This time the Takeda would not be able to preserve Kai.

Everyone associated with the Takeda clan was convinced of its inevitable defeat. Some, perhaps, had even been disposed to look forward to this day. Traditionally, however, samurai—of no matter what clan—did not display an unseemly attitude at such times, even when they knew defeat was inevitable.

"We're going to let them know that we are here," said Nishina Nobumori, commander of Takato Castle and Katsuyori's younger brother.

Nobunaga's son Nobutada, whose forces had poured into the region, estimated that his prospects were generally good. After writing a letter, he summoned a strong archer and had the man shoot the message into the castle. It was, of course, an invitation to surrender.

An answer from the castle came quickly. "I have read over your letter…" From the opening line to the ending, the letter had been written in an extremely stately style.

The men in this castle will one day compensate Lord Katsuyori's favors with their lives, and not one of them is likely to be a coward. You should have your men attack immediately. We will show you the tempered prowess and valor that has been ours since the time of Lord Shingen.

Nobumori had answered with a resolution that almost scented the ink. Nobunaga had made his son a general, even though he was still quite young. "Well, if that's the way they want it," Nobutada said, ordering the assault. The attacking forces were divided into two divisions, and they assaulted the castle simulltaneously from the mountain at the rear and from the area leading to the front gate.  It was a battle worthy of the name. The one thousand defending soldiers expected to die. As might be imagined, the valor of the Kai warriors had not yet declined. From the beginning of the Second Month to the beginning of the Third, the stone walls of Takato Castle were drenched with the blood of both the attacking and the defending armies.  After breaking through the first palisades, which stood fifty yards from the moat, the attacking troops filled the moat with stones, shrubs, trees, and earth. Then they crossed over very quickly to the base of the stone walls.

"Come on!" shouted the men from the clay bulwarks and roofed mud walls as they threw spears, timbers, and rocks and poured hot oil onto the men below. The attacking soldiers that had scrambled up the stone wall went tumbling down under the rocks, timbers and sprays of oil. But no matter how far they fell, they were even more gallant. Even ley tumbled to the earth, as long as they were conscious, they would jump to their feet and start to climb again.

The soldiers who came up behind these men shouted in admiration for their com­rades' resolute courage, and clambered up the walls behind them. They were not going to be outdone. As they climbed and fell, climbed once again, and grasped the stone walls, it seemed that nothing could stand before their fury. But the defenders of the castle were not the least bit inferior in their own united, desperate effort. Those who accepted the challenge, who could be glimpsed above the clay bulwarks and the roofed dirt walls, gave the illusion that the castle was filled only with the sturdy warriors of Kai. But if the attacking forces had been able to see the activity inside, they would have known that the entire castle was involved in a pathetic but wholehearted struggle. While the castle was being besieged, the many people inside—the old and young, and even pregnant women—each worked desperately along with the soldiers to help in the defense. The young women carried arrows, while the old men swept away the burnt refuse from the guns. They tended the wounded and worked at cooking the soldiers' meals. No one had given them any commands, but they worked in perfect order and without a single word of complaint.