With a sword in my hand, I'd lose to a three-year-old.
But I was confident that, in three years, I could make this valley's rice harvest ten times greater.
"Shinpachiro. I'm giving you Kasuga Valley."
My eldest brother, Shigemori, laughed, a cup of sake in one hand. The retainers in the great hall laughed along with him.
Kasuga Valley. The poorest, hungriest land in all of House Kuroda's domain. A barren valley that had suffered three bad harvests in a row.
"A bookworm weakling like you has no business on a battlefield. The least you can do is pick up a hoe and till some paddies."
Beside our eldest brother, my second brother, Masayuki, put on a fawning smile.
"How generous of you, Brother. By rights, he ought to be thrown out altogether."
I bowed my head in silence.
I wasn't angry. If anything, I was holding back a laugh.
Kasuga Valley, huh. As long as there's water and soil, I can make something of it.
I—Shinpachiro Kuroda—had memories of a past life.
The memories of a man who had worked in civil engineering and for the agricultural cooperative in modern Japan. Fifteen years of knowledge: drafting plans for river improvement, testing soil, traveling from farm to farm to teach crop breeding.
In this warring age, what a weapon that knowledge could be. My brothers couldn't even imagine it.
"I am deeply grateful for your kindness."
When I said that, Shigemori snorted.
"Hmph. If you've time to thank me, go grow some rice. Fail to pay your taxes, and that's when I'll strike you from the Kuroda name."
When I left the hall, a village girl who had been waiting outside came running up to me.
Her name was Sayo. A girl of seventeen who had come from Kasuga Valley to petition about the taxes.
"Lord Shinpachiro... are you truly going to Kasuga Valley?"
"Yes. Starting tomorrow, that valley is my domain."
Sayo's face clouded.
"Everyone says that land is cursed. When it rains, the river floods and washes the paddies away. When it doesn't, the earth cracks and nothing grows. Last year, thirty people starved to death."
"It's not a curse," I said quietly.
"The river is just running wild. Build the embankments properly, and the water will be on our side."
Sayo looked up at me, blinking blankly. A samurai talking about rivers must have been quite a rare thing.
"There's a reason the soil is poor, too. Keep growing the same rice in the same paddy, and the strength drains out of the land. Plant beans, scatter ash, work in manure, and the soil grows rich again."
"Grows rich...?"
"Yes. Even poor soil can be changed in three years. It's like a person's body. Eat your meals, and you put on flesh."
Sayo didn't seem to understand even half of what I meant. But in her eyes, a fire that had nearly gone out flickered faintly back to life.
"Lord Shinpachiro... are you truly a weakling who's no good at war?"
I gave a wry smile.
"With a sword, I'm hopeless. But when it comes to soil and water, I'll lose to no one."
That night.
As I packed my things, I took a single sheet of paper from inside my robe.
A sketch map of Kasuga Valley, drawn in secret, away from prying eyes.
The lay of the valley, the meanders of the river, the direction of the sun. Out of a habit from surveying in my past life, I had quietly studied it even before I was banished.
My brothers didn't know that the lands that suffer most from floods are, in truth, the richest in water. A raging river, so long as you don't get the taming of it wrong, turns into an endless blessing.
I'll narrow the river here. Build the embankment in two tiers, and put a retarding basin here. That way, I can turn the floodwater around and use it to fill a reservoir.
The problem was materials. To build a sturdy embankment, just piling up stones wouldn't be enough. The rain would wash it out.
But the hill behind this valley had an outcrop of limestone. Burn that, and you get slaked lime. Mix it with volcanic-ash soil, and you get a plaster that hardens with water, close to the cement of my past life.
I was going to bring concrete into the warring age.
As my brush ran across the paper, the corners of my mouth crept upward.
My brothers thought they had thrown me away.
But the ones who had been thrown away were the men who knew nothing but war.
The next morning, as I rode toward the valley, swaying atop a scrawny horse, mocking farewells were flung at my back from the castle.
"Take care of yourself, peasant warlord!"
I didn't look back. I only raised a hand in answer.
At the entrance to the valley, the villagers stood waiting in a line, bowed so low it was almost a prostration. Gaunt faces, nothing but skin and bone. Only the children's bellies were swollen, from hunger.
Among them, Sayo alone was looking straight at me.
"Lord Shinpachiro. What should we do?"
I got down from my horse and turned my eyes to the muddy river running through the valley.
Then, so that no one would hear, I murmured under my breath.
"First—we build a kiln to burn lime."
No one yet knew that three years from now, this valley's rice would swallow House Kuroda whole.