Once more the reinforcements were caught up by Shingen's Generals, with each one of them holding martial skill far above that of an ordinary man. They were not the type of opponent they could defeat with a few fast slashes. It with a chess match and a battle of endurance.

Shingen observed, almost satisfied with his position, though they were far closer with the enemy than they should have been. Usual his Generals would be able to cause pandemonium the second they took to the stage, but now they were engaged in a brutal deadlock.

He still had his reinforcements ready to join in the battle at any moment, but the second he committed them, he lost all adaptability and ability to respond. With the surprises that the enemy continued to deliver, it would be foolish to go all in, at least for now.

Ichijo was still busy dealing with the enemy cavalry. It would be unwise to rely on him. With two fingers, he motioned for his messenger to come closer. The man immediately complied, lending him his ear.

"As soon as Miura dispatches his third row, throw all our forces into the encirclement and have all of the Generals ready to fight." He did not explain his reasoning to the servant – there was no need. But the way he saw it, even if Gengyo came forth with his fourth row to free his men, they would have been able to deal significant damage by then, so that even if they were out of position, the advantage would entirely be with them.

"Are they… even?" Nobunaga and his entourage were baffled. Just moments ago, it seemed that they were about to witness a slaughter, but when the dust had settled, both forces still remained standing.

"If… If we join in, then we can actually end Takeda Shingen? Right here?" Hirata was breathing heavily. They had long since feared an invasion from the Takeda. This would prove huge for them. Two horrible snakes beheaded by the same blade – one that had appeared seemingly out of nowhere.

Equally excited, Nobunaga still had the sense to see the battle in a more mature and patient light. "We will wait, Hirata. For the right opportunity." Alongside opportunity, there was also a worry. It could well be that this Miura was an enemy far more dangerous than the ones they had previously and to grant him power would be to secure their own end.

From that Matsudairan flag, it seemed Motoyasu had found his way to his side as well. Perhaps that spoke to his character… Or perhaps it spoke to something else.

The cavalry were still engaged in a furious battle. The famed Takeda forces were falling all too quickly. It was unsettling to see. But their strength did not lie in numbers, it lay in the powerful individuals that led them. Their offence prowess was so well tempered as to create a legend.

They cycled back and forth, cutting and cutting, the lawnmowers of the battlefield. One by one they fell and Ichijo found himself curling his lips in disgust. Their enemy still rode on even armless and yet with a single slash, his men would go lovingly towards the grave.

The cause of this reckless destruction? It was the head of the arrow. Three individuals that could well have been one. None of his men could stand against them. Was it with recklessness that he drove his heels into the side of his horse and spurred towards them? Or did he have a plan? Surely he did not intend on challenging three such fearsome fighters by his lonesome?

His last hundred men found protection behind him. He tracked behind the enemy's latest charge and as soon as they slowed and began to wheel their steads around. He drew his wakizashi to join his katana. He had a feeling that he would need it.

He might have slammed into them whilst their backs were turned to secure the advantage, but he slowed his steed instead and his men slowed behind him. He would not allow himself acknowledgement of victory unless it was achieved by honourable means.

"Hoh… Is this pup challenging us?" Their old eyes settled on him. With but a glance, his intent was obvious. The two sides faced off against each other. Four hundred men – many of them nursing brutal injuries – stood proudly like an army of the undead, and against them, but a hundred soldiers faced off. They were almost timid now, having been humbled by their reckless fighting style.

"I would offer you the chance to surrender, but it seems you wish to die with your men. A respectable trait."

"As you wish to die with yours." Ichijo responded evenly.

"Very well. Let us get this over with. We have a battle to win." The three of them spurred their horses, and split off from each other. One man took to the front, his elbow c.o.c.ked, and his sword pointed forward. Another came from the left, eyeing his horse. A third looped all the way around to the back.

Ichijo's eyes flickered, quickly tracking their movements and predicting where they would reappear once they disappear. After decades spent in each other's company, the old men were perfectly in time, and their strike threatened to land as one.

It would be a brutal end to one of Shingen's most prized generals and it would set the battle entirely in their favour. All eyes that had time to bear witness tilted their heads towards it, hearts beating quickly, nervously waiting for the obvious conclusion.

Ichijo was facing forward. He dodged the piercing thrust coming towards his abdomen with ease. Had it just been that one man, it was apparent that Ichijo was capable of besting him quickly. Yet there were two more strikes to deal with.

With a single hand on his katana, he managed to deflect the powerful two-handed strike coming from his side, and it instead fell onto the head of his horse. Before the creature's life left it, he used his wakizashi to protect his back, having to predict where the strike would land, not having time to turn.

His small dagger travelled the length of the weapon, slowing it significantly, but it did not stop at merely that. The block continued in a strike, and slid under his menyori, slitting the old man's throat.