shiroi_tiger | Japan, 1876

Another day. More training. The men seemed eager to learn, though the going was slow. After all, they were working with weapons that even a decade before, they might never have dreamed of using. Algren supposed, as he surveyed the troops attempting with little avail to riddle their targets with bullets, that he should at least be grateful they were all firing in the same direction.

Colonel Bagley	"Nathan!" Ah. It was the Colonel who Algren would like very much to shoot in the face. "Katsumoto's attacked a railroad at the border of his province."
Mr. Omura	"We cannot govern a country in which we cannot travel freely," Mr. Omura added, standing beside Colonel Bagley with a grim expression on his face. "He must be stopped now. My railroad is a priority for this country."
Nathan	Algren took one look over his shoulder at the conscripts. "They're not ready."
Colonel Bagley	"The rebels don't have a single rifle," Bagley argued. "They're savages with bows and arrows."
Nathan	"Whose sole occupation for the last thousand years has been war," Algren growled. No, there were not words to properly describe the loathing he felt just then.
Colonel Bagley	"You have superior firepower and a larger force. I am ordering the regiment to move against Katsumoto. You will track him down and engage him."
Nathan	Algren turned and walked away from the two men, tapping a soldier on the arm as he walked by and telling him to load. "Mr. Graham. Tell this man to fire at me!" He stopped in front of one of the targets, pulled out his pistol, and aimed. "Tell this man if he does not shoot me, I will kill him!"
Zebulon	"Captain," Zeb interjected, "if I might have a word..."
Soldier	Algren answered that by firing a shot at the Japanese soldier's feet. That was convincing enough. Mr. Graham told him just that, making certain that the soldier was aware that this was an urgent matter, indeed. The translation to Japanese so soon after the deafening noise of the pistol caught the man's attention, and he balked. Looked at Algren. Shook his head.
Nathan	"Load!" Another gunshot blew the soldier's hat clear off his head. "Load!" Another shot hit the ground. "Faster! Faster!" Another shot still, as the soldier struggled to load his rifle. Struggled to aim. "Shoot me, damn it."
Soldier	The soldier balked again. Shook his head again. He was practically crying, now.
Nathan	"Fire!" Another pause. "Fire! Ute! Ute!" And another shot.
Soldier	The soldier pulled the trigger. The bullet missed.
Nathan	Algren lowered his gun. Looked at the ground. Shook his head. And then he started to walk, giving the terrified Japanese soldier a pat on the shoulder as he passed by him. "They're not ready." And then he left the range.
Colonel Bagley	"The regiment leaves at six a.m.!" Apparently, Colonel Bagley didn't care.

Nathan	They weren't ready. There were at least a hundred men behind Algren, and he could count on the fingers of one hand the number of them that were ready to be standing where they were at just then. And those that he happened to be counting consisted only of Himself, Zeb, and Tony. General Hasegawa refused to fight against Katsumoto, and so he was making himself useful by... Sitting on his horse, somewhere over there. Colonel Bagley had insisted that the Americans weren't there as combatants. Algren had refused direct orders to retreat to the rear. If he did, nobody would lead these men. It would be a slaughter. "Sargeant Gant, report to the rear. See to the disposition of the supply trains. Take Mr. Stark with you."
Tony	"Right, because that's going to happen," Tony shot back at him.
Nathan	Algren was shooting Tony a look. Grit your teeth, Nathan. Turn the horse around and circle back toward Zeb, who was making certain that his rifle was in order. "Sargeant Gant, did you hear my order?"
Zebulon	"I did indeed, sir!"
Nathan	"Good. Then you will obey it." Damn it, Zeb. Get out of here, and drag Tony with you if need be.
Zebulon	Zeb had other ideas, apparently. "No disrespect intended sir, but shove it up your ass."
Tony	Tony nudged his horse with his knees, forcing the thing to stop shifting about nervously. "You inspire such loyalty, Nathan."
Nathan	"Shut up, Tony." It was the 'shut up' of a true friend. Something sounded, somewhere in the distance. A yell, perhaps. And then silence so thick that Algren could hardly breathe in it. He gave the order for the troops to load. Zeb echoed that order. And then that sound again, angry and bloodthirsty through the trees, sending birds scattering. The men were shaking. One of their officers looked to Algren, and, in a terrified hush, he informed him, "Samurai come." They were going to die. "You'll be fine, son." A moment more, and a silhouette appeared through the mist, ghostly and inhuman, with wicked horns atop a helmeted head. Another heartbeat, and more followed.
Tony	Well. This was both better and worse than that convoy. Though Tony was beginning to think that this was quite possibly the dumbest thing he'd ever done in his entire life. Tony took a breath and ignored that little Jarvis sounding voice int he back of his head informing him of the odds.
Nathan	Deep breath, Algren. Focus. Give the order for the men to assume firing positions. Tell them to fire on your order only. Wait. Wait. Dozens of men on horses, in armor, whose sole occupation for the last thousand years has been war. Wait. Wait. One of the men got spooked. Pulled the trigger. And then another. And Algren knew then and there that no amount of screaming for them to hold their fire was going to keep this from going all to hell. Every gun was fired. He ordered them to re-load. Men were running away. "Hold the line!" Nothing. "Fire at will!" Nothing.
Samurai	One samurai fell to a bullet. And another. Negligible losses, really, as most of them were now on top of the line of men who was attempting to retreat, making them scatter through the trees like frightened deer. A few of them possibly understood the American Captain's next order, "Lieutenant! Fall back!" But they didn't care. There was a battle to be had, here. This was a war. And their katana sang through the air as the blood of their enemies was spilled to the ground.
Tony	Which meant it was the prefect time for Tony's horse, the smelly thing that it was, to rear up as it was shot in the chest. He fell to the ground, watching as his ride took off along with the frightened soldiers. "Nathan!" Tony gritted his teeth as something hit his arm. A bit of wood on each side of the muscle. Oh joy! He'd take shrapnel over arrows any day, thanks.
Nathan	Note to self, don't give Tony a horse ever again. Algren backtracked with his own horse, picking off what Samurai he could with his pistol while fighting to keep his horse under control. Some cover for Tony. Tony, who had met the business end of an arrow. His gun made that telltale click that informed him that he had run out of ammunition. It was thrown to the side. He was going to have to rely on his sword, then. Parry, thrust, ignore the screams of his men as they ran themselves into an ambush in their retreat, driving themselves onto the pointed ends of spears that had been laying in wait.
Samurai	An American man with a rifle was picking the Samurai off one by one as they passed through the trees. This wouldn't do. And so one of them took it upon himself to race toward that man, heedless of the bullets, to knock him backward and out of commission with his spear. Clean through. And then he kept going. None of them paid attention to the other American, the Captain on his horse, screaming out the name of his fallen comrade. Zeb! Another strode up to the enemy soldier with the spear clean through him. Dismounted his steed. Looked down at the dying man. And then drove his sword deep into Zebulon Gant's gut. The soldier screamed. And then he wasn't screaming anymore.
Tony	What Tony wouldn't give at this point for a decent gun. Or one of his damn gauntlets. But for now? He was planning to buy that stable in town and sell the horses so no other ones could be near him. Mostly because another spooked horse was coming right at him and--Oh, trampling looked very painful. Though he was still breathing. Which was nice. ...he hated Japan now.
Nathan	Zeb was dead. Zeb was dead. And no amount of yelling could change that fact. Algren was seeing red, now, his sword drawn, hacking his way back toward Tony. He couldn't see Tony. Where the Hell was Tony? On the ground. There, on the ground. That looked very much like a Tony. Algren was just shy of him when his own horse reared, a Samurai on his mount ramming against his animal. And now Algren was on the ground, too, struggling to get up as his horse rolled off of him and took off running. His sword was somewhere else entirely. Where had his sword gone? Damn it! He crawled, on hands and knees, to grab a discarded rifle that was laying on the ground near Tony. Still breathing Tony. Parry a katana with it. Run it through the man who had been wielding it. Unarmed again. Sidestep a polearm. Grab it. Throw the man holding it to the ground. No thought. No sense. No reason. Keep alive. Keep Tony alive. Fight. Kill. Scream. Try to ignore the stab-wound in his shoulder. Five men surrounding him. The sounds of battle were dying down. More Samurai on the way. A burning in his hip, next. More blood. On his knees. On his knees with a polearm, Tony at his side. Lashing out. No thinking. Another enemy dead.
Katsumoto	Katsumoto dismounted his horse as the sounds of battle faded down to just the pained, angry noises of one American soldier. One American soldier with no form, no finesse. Just a weapon in his hand and an animalistic rage that was single-handedly keeping the Samurai from killing not only him, but his unconscious counterpart as well. The weapon in the soldier's hand had a flag on it. A banner with a raging white tiger on it, bringing to mind a vision that Katsumoto had seen while meditating not long ago. A white tiger, cornered, on the verge of death. Still fighting. Looking out at the world with the angry eyes of a man. This particular tiger was tiring. On hands and knees, now. One of Katsumoto's men, Hirotaro, claimed this kill as his own, striding up to the man and raising his katana. It would be a quick kill. The soldier waited, looking up at him balefully. The sword came down, the American's quickly-raised polearm was the only thing to die, and Hirotaro's foot was what sent the solder falling to the ground. This time, then. What nobody had expected was to see the soldier, who was all but dead, grab what was left of his broken weapon to drive it deep into Hirotaro's throat through the gaps in his armor. Katsumoto's men charged. Katsumoto stopped them. "//Take them away.//"

[NFB and NFI for distance and time. Preplayed with

not_ironmaiden, who is awesome like an awesome thing. Large chunks of script lifted from The Last Samurai, and as such, there are spoilers within.]

Japan, 1876

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