The Elder’s Tale of Kawanakajima

I, Kurokage no Saburō, eldest of the Shadow Lords in the mountains of Shinano, tell you of the year 1553, when the spirits themselves stirred with blood and ambition. Japan was deep in its Sengoku Jidai—the “Age of the Country at War.” No village, shrine, or stronghold was safe from the ambitions of rival daimyō, each clawing for dominion. Mortals tell this tale as one of war between two men—Takeda Shingen of Kai, and Uesugi Kenshin of Echigo. But I tell you the truth behind their masks: the clash of Bastet and Garou, the Tiger and the Storm.

The Tiger of Kai – Takeda Shingen

Shingen was no mere mortal daimyo. Beneath his armored form dwelled the soul of a Khan-Bastet, a Tiger of the East, proud and unyielding. His blood carried the fire of Amaterasu’s wrath, and his roar echoed like thunder in the Umbra. He saw the valleys of Shinano as his rightful hunting ground, territory that should bow beneath fang and claw. With his cunning generals and his newfound weapons—European matchlock guns—he sought to sweep aside all rivals, mortal and Prodigal alike.

The Shadow Lord of Echigo – Uesugi Kenshin

But in the north rose his counter: Uesugi Kenshin, the “Dragon of Echigo.” To mortals he was famed as Bishamonten reborn, the god of war walking in flesh. To us he was something truer—a Shadow Lord Garou of great renown, chosen of thunder and storm. His howls carried commands that bent both wolves and men to his side. His armies, disciplined and zealous, defended Echigo as though it were the very den of Gaia. Where Shingen burned for conquest, Kenshin fought as guardian and judge.

The First Clash – Kawanakajima, 1553

Thus it was in the year 1553 that their claws first tore into each other at Kawanakajima, by the banks of the Chikumagawa. Mortals recall banners and spear-lines, ashigaru marching and samurai charging. But in the spirit world, it was a battlefield of totems and shadows. Tiger spirits prowled the edges, their stripes like fire in the mist. Thunderbirds circled above Kenshin’s host, their wings trailing lightning. Every strike of spear and sword echoed as a battle of Rage and Will in the Umbra.

Neither side gained true victory, for the Tiger and the Wolf were too evenly matched. Each withdrew, bloodied but unbroken, and the land itself groaned beneath the weight of their rivalry. The people would come to call it one of five great battles, but we knew it as the first test of two titans.

The Shadow of the West

Even as we bled in our own wars, foreign shadows crept into Nippon. Portuguese traders came with thunder-weapons, strange tubes that spat fire and iron. Already, some daimyō bent knee to them, their greed stronger than their loyalty to kami or kin. And with the traders came the black-robed missionaries, whispering of one god greater than all others. Some lords converted, offering their people to this new faith. A few even allowed the foreigners to build strange shrines of stone and cross. I warn you, cubs: these outsiders are no less dangerous than Shingen’s Bastet claws or Kenshin’s storm-fangs. They bring a war of spirit and faith that may cut deeper than steel.

So hear me well: the wars of the Sengoku Jidai are not merely mortal contests of daimyo and banners. They are battles of Gaia’s children, Prodigals shaping the fate of Nippon. At Kawanakajima, the Tiger and the Shadow Lord began a struggle that would last for years, each clash more desperate than the last. And beyond them loom the whispers of Europe, their guns and crosses promising to twist the wars of Japan into something darker still.

Thus ends my telling. Remember, young one: history as written by mortals is but the shell. We Shadow Lords know the marrow within.