Rise of the Forgotten Lord

Miki listened closely to Oda’s words. His death was not worthy of an honoured samurai, to be forced into suicide by his own men was nightmare fuel for any high-ranking men with power in this land. Of course, the warrior was livid and his heart must’ve been full of rage. But there were questions yet to be answered… what did Amaterasu have to do with this? She was beyond their realm, and yet she appeared to have taken pity in this one Daimyo among many Daimyos who have suffered traumatizing fates at the ends of their lives. But for her as a goddess, there must’ve been a good reason.

Along the way back down the mountain towards the prefecture, Miki was asked by Oda. He nodded with his wooden mask on and spoke: “Yes. A direct link is drawn from my ancestor to me. Kensho no Gamiken, God’s Sword. A man I’ve come to figure out that you, perhaps, heard of back in your previous life.” Despite giving name to their joyous clan, Kensho no Gamiken was shrouded in more questions than answers. Little was known other than this; the red dagger found in the Kosegasawa Cave belonged to him (this dagger was with Mura now), and he was said to have been an even greater deal for a swordsman than even Musashi.

“Say… are you able to call upon Amaterasu’s favour? Perhaps the flames were a sign of her support to you.”

Nobunaga furled his brow at the man's words, after listening to him with more patience. "I do not know. I can try, though I do not hold fondness for fire in the way I did once before."

He took a deep breath, and closed his eyes, letting his mind slowly calm. He could feel a wellspring of power in his breast, and as he focused on it, he felt it spread, seeping through his veins. As his eyes opened, they glowed blue for a brief moment and fog rolled in through the valley as figures emerged, five hundred ghostly ashigaru stood at attention in perfect rank and file as the fog cleared.

Nobunaga was taken aback, he knew these faces, the faces of those who had stood beside him in the end. "This... was not what I had expected." A mix of sorrow and pride replaced the anger and confusion that had been on his face before as his eyes glanced along the transparent ranks, before settling back on the Daimyo beside him.

Miki had to brake himself using his staff when the fog whirled in. It came out of nowhere, simply and mildly indicating the use of magic to manifest its presence. Miki shifted his eyes towards Nobunaga-sama in awe as he then missed the arrival of ghostly apparitions in the fog. Yes, they were lined up in ranks with perfection of upmost inhumanity, mere spirits of their pasts without shells and vessels of flesh and blood.

They were just like the ghost of Musashi who accompanied Mura everywhere.

“Not what you expected? T-This is a summoning spell,” Miki explained, “I believe that you summoned these spirits from a certain place… this is on par with Onmyōdō. Just like my son.”