Chapter 227: The Day of Harvest Arrives
Life in the village was quite fresh. As per the agreement, the farmers provided the seven samurai with two full meals of white rice every day. In this era of scarcity, being able to eat plain white rice was a status symbol for the upper classes, such as nobles and samurai. Although monotonous, the samurai accepted it. After a few days, they had grown accustomed to the life here.
Kojiro, with a twig in his mouth, practiced his sword strokes alone, patrolling the edges of the village by himself.
Nobu, unable to sit still, ran around all day, only returning punctually for meals. Sometimes she would bring back wild fruits she picked from who knows where, and sometimes she would return wearing a wreath woven from mountain wildflowers, acting more like a child than the children themselves.
However, no one expected her to be of much help; simply not causing trouble was considered a good thing. Leaving her alone now, Nobu could occasionally use her gun to hunt, bringing back some wild fowl, ducks, or rabbits.
Okita Souji was tasked with staying on guard, but most of the time, she was playing with the children. Having devoted herself to kendo from a young age and dying young from a fatal illness, she was like a big child and was much loved by the local urchins.
Recently, even Yukino seemed to be influenced by them, neglecting to eat properly, holding her rice bowl and running off to who knows where from time to time.
However, this relaxed attitude might be just right. Everything proceeded gradually. Shirou worked in the blacksmith shop, forging various small tools.
Tawara Touta led a group of villagers, moving the cut trees to an open area near the road that would be used later.
When all the preparatory work was completed, the farmers didn't have time to rest before the next busy task arrived.
A clear breeze blew, carrying a rich scent of rice throughout the village. The rice ears, heavy with grain, swayed gently. The scarecrows in the fields, whose clothes fluttered in the wind, were taken down.
The day for harvesting the rice had finally arrived in the village.
The farmers removed their straw sandals, took their sickles, and went down to the fields, skillfully cutting the rice and bundling it up. They carried the bundles ashore, where the women used wooden tools to thresh the grain. The grain was then laid out in the scorching sun to dry out residual moisture, preventing it from molding during storage on rainy days.
At this time, the mischievous children who had been playing in the village also ran to the fields to help, picking up the stray grains of rice and millet that had fallen.
Harvest time was supposed to be a day of great joy, but before the farmers here could smile, they immediately realized the dangerous future that awaited them, and their faces turned grim again.
"Will we even get to eat the rice milled from these grains... our lives are so bitter... Once this rice is dry, the bandits will arrive soon, won't they?" one villager said helplessly.
"Shut up! Get back to work!" the villager next to him yelled. He was the leader of the villagers who had hired Shirou and the others, named Aichi.
"Aichi is right! We've done everything we can! We hired samurai, they'll set up defenses, and they taught us how to fight with bamboo spears—let's fight them to the death!"
"Exactly! Why should those damn bandits take the rice we worked all year to grow? This time, either they die, or we die!"
"That's right! Let them come! Let's show them who the owners of this rice are!"
The villagers channeled their internal anger into motivation, grabbing the rice stalks and swinging their sharpened sickles. Their harvesting speed picked up quickly.
On the high bank, the samurai watching the farmers work exchanged smiles. Shirou and Tawara Touta nodded to each other.
"After the training, the villagers have gradually built up the resolve to confront the bandits directly," Shirou said happily. As long as the villagers were determined and didn't panic or make basic mistakes during the fight, then with training and knowledge of how to use the defensive structures, casualties could be kept to a minimum.
"Ah, with a unified spirit like this, we can rely on them," Tawara Touta said with a smile.
"Yes. According to the plan, once these fields are harvested, we'll divert the stream flowing down from the mountain to flood this area. That side of the village will then be secure."
The people in the village worked from daybreak until nightfall, finally completing the harvest of all the grain in the fields.
The next day, Shirou and the others rang the alarm bell, summoning everyone for a military strategy meeting.
The Village Elder, supported by his son and leaning on his cane, arrived beneath the hundred-year-old tree in the village center. With his arrival, everyone was present.
Shirou then said, "Furthermore, there is one thing that must be made clear now: the bridge to the village must be dismantled. We will have to abandon the homes across the bridge. Otherwise, if the bandits attack, we won't have enough manpower to defend it, so the families living across the bridge must move over to this side."
Even counting Yukino, the genuine fighting force here could only handle a few rough-and-tumble bandits for every one warrior who had received combat training from a young age, but five villagers might not even be able to kill a single bandit.
If the area to defend was too large and they couldn't rush over to support, once the line broke and the bandits charged into the village on horseback, the panicked villagers, women, and children would be captured, and the situation would spiral out of control.
"Everyone! Come with me! Why should we, the upper village, abandon our homes to protect the homes of the lower village people!" a villager shouted angrily.
"That's right! Our houses will be destroyed by the bandits!" the villagers from the upper village shouted, feeling wronged. Just because their homes were set farther away, were they to be abandoned?
When the bandits arrived and found they couldn't cross to the other side, they would surely take out their anger and demonstrate their power by destroying the houses on this side. All the houses across the river would be set on fire!
Those were the houses they had worked their entire lives for, perhaps even built through the grueling efforts of two generations of ancestors. How could they simply give them up just because they were told to?
For rural people, there were two major things in life: owning land and owning a house. These things affected their entire lives.
To marry and have children, both were essential. Otherwise, no family with even marginally decent conditions would marry their daughter into such a household.
Girls with better looks and circumstances would even weigh the choice between barren and fertile land and the size of the house.
Every year, villagers would compare the yield of their fields, determining who was the better farmer and whose farm work was lacking. Everything was clear for all to see.
If the houses of those around them were renovated into beautiful new homes, those who lived in old, dilapidated houses would be looked down upon by their fellow villagers.
Giving up their house felt like giving up their life and future. They could survive, but what kind of cruel future awaited them?
"Look! Are we going to lose our house? You heartless man! Say something!" A woman, having heard the news, ran over holding her child, collapsing at her husband's feet and tugging at his trousers.
The man clenched his fists, his head lowered, remaining silent.
Seeing her husband's reaction, the woman understood and cried out loudly, "Waaaah! How are we going to live now!"
The child, seeing his mother cry, also began to wailing loudly.
"Enough! We will protect our own homes! Upper village people, follow me!" A villager threw down his bamboo spear and tried to run back to his home.
"Stop right there!" Kojiro drew his Nodachi (long sword) and blocked the villager's path.
"Go back! Or face military justice!" Tawara Touta also drew his ancestral golden Ōdachi (great sword) and shouted.
"Pick it up! Get back in formation! Immediately!" Hōzōin Inshun, who usually trained them, now scolded them sternly.
The farmers who had run out were so terrified that they scrambled to pick up their bamboo spears and hurried back into the line.
Even the usually kind samurai, Shirou, who was the most approachable, now had a cold, stern expression, scanning everyone.
"Listen to me. We are now in a state of war readiness. A moment of carelessness can lead to death. There is no room for negligence. It is unfortunate that houses will be burned. But if the village is not held, and the bandits break in, it won't just be houses that are destroyed—your wives and children will be in danger.
If we lose this battle, everyone will die! You understand, don't you? Sacrifices are unavoidable. Be prepared for that."
Shirou spoke in a solemn voice. Although he hated such things the most—the idea of sacrificing a few to save the majority. He wished he could bring happiness to everyone he saw.
But the reality was so harsh that this was the only way. So Shirou hardened his heart and issued a mandatory command to the villagers.
"From now on, no one is allowed to leave the formation without permission. If anyone disobeys military discipline again..." Shirou picked up a bamboo spear and drove it into the ground, then drew his katana. A flash of silver light instantly passed, and the bamboo spear was split in two from top to bottom!
"You will be treated just like this bamboo spear!" Shirou scanned every villager in the queue, meeting their gaze, and said very seriously.
The villagers were all startled, avoiding his eyes, not daring to harbor any more resentment.
In military campaigning, the most taboo thing is disagreement. Even a task that could have been accomplished will become impossible due to mutual resistance and hindrance. Military orders are like mountains; once an operation is planned, disobedience is not tolerated. Instead, one must strive to complete it.
If there is a flaw in the defense anywhere, the entire battle could be lost. Once defeated, there will be no second chance. The price to pay is the lives of the entire village, dozens of families. This is war.
War is a terrifying monster. People understand this principle but cannot reject it. Once it starts, the initial conflict of interests evolves into mutual hatred, which can even last for centuries.
People constantly feed this monster until it grows so large that neither side can control it, eventually escalating to the point where millions of lives are drawn in at once.
No one can truly face death without reverence. As long as one is alive, even if they don't care about their own life, there are always people or things they cherish around them.
No matter how brave the soldiers on the battlefield are, constantly experiencing killing and seeing comrades killed will build up psychological pressure, leading to mental illness after discharge.
In severe cases, a camp panic (Gyōshō) can occur. A person who was fine a moment ago might suddenly go mad and start attacking their comrades with a drawn sword. What is more terrifying is that this burst of madness is contagious.
Therefore, when a soldier is found ignoring military orders, screaming hysterically, or suddenly going mad after a nightmare, the first reaction of those around them is to kill the person, otherwise, the entire camp could descend into a frantic melee.
In such a case, a battle could be lost before it even begins, with a massive loss of troops due to infighting.
"Please don't cry. I will stay behind after this battle is over and help you rebuild your houses," Shirou comforted the families who lived on the far side.
"No! We couldn't possibly accept that," Aichi, the leading villager, interjected.
At this point, the sensible Village Elder spoke up and said, "Samurai! You only need to lead us to defeat the bandits. The losses from this war will be borne by the entire village. If anyone's house is destroyed, the whole village will help them rebuild. If anyone falls in battle, their family will be supported by the entire village."
"Good. It's best that you understand this," Shirou nodded.
Since the heavy physical labor of harvesting the grain was complete, the women handled the other detailed or miscellaneous tasks. All the men in the village spent their days practicing thrusting with bamboo spears or helping to build defensive structures.
Inside the small house where they were staying, Shirou and the other samurai were discussing their battle plan using the map they had drawn.
The main entrance to the village was now sealed off. A three-meter-high palisade of logs and wooden planks was built and nailed together. People could only get over it by climbing, but the areas where one could climb were wrapped in sharp wire by Shirou. Anyone attempting to climb would likely lose several layers of skin.
The bridge was also prepared. Protective walls were built on both sides with wood. Once news of the bandits arrived, people could cut the ropes and dismantle the wooden bridge, preventing horses from crossing. To cross, one would have to jump into the stream, walk to the bank, and climb up.
The sound of splashing water as people crossed the stream would serve as the best alarm. All they had to do was assign people to stab the climbing bandits with bamboo spears. This side could be considered a perfect defensive wall.
The fields from before had been completely flooded by diverting the stream, forming a natural barrier. The soft, muddy, sticky wet soil in the fields made it impossible to walk with shoes, and even barefoot, one would sink. The slippery and heavy mud would hinder the movement of any bandits trying to cross from this side.
If the bandits dared to come over, the villagers only needed to strike them from behind the wooden barrier, like "beating a dog that has fallen into the water."
Through the concerted efforts of everyone, three sides of the village formed a complete defensive system, like an iron wall. By neutralizing the enemy's advantage in cavalry, it was essentially impossible for the village to be breached, provided there were no extraordinary opponents or unexpected events.
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