After the disastrous Battle of Mikatagahara in January 1573, contemporaries might have been forgiven for thinking that Tokugawa Ieyasu was finished. His army had been defeated and scattered, several important fortresses had fallen, and Takeda forces were camped deep inside his home province of Mikawa.
The Battle of Mikatagahara was a disaster from which Ieyasu might not have recovered.
Fate, however, was on Ieyasu’s side. Though Mikatagahara had been a catastrophe, the Takeda would prove unable to take advantage of their victory. Not long after the Battle, Takeda Shingen, arguably the most formidable warrior of his day, fell ill (some sources say he was wounded in battle, though later stories of Ninja assassinations are likely mythological).
With their leader bedridden, the Takeda campaign stalled. They tried to keep the full extent of his illness secret, but when Shingen died in May, the once-mighty Takeda army began a full retreat from Mikawa. The Art of War writes that a general should know his enemy, and Ieyasu, student of war that he was, seems to have realised that something was amiss.
An image depicting Shingen’s illness. He was arguably the most formidable warlord of his day, and his death was a huge strategic boon to the Tokugawa.
Under Shingen, the Takeda were aggressive and highly capable, but after his (still secret) death, Ieyasu identified several weaknesses and launched a counter-attack, the success of which effectively confirmed his theory that Shingen was gone. With the momentum swinging back towards the Tokugawa, several clans that had defected to the Takeda switched sides again, and Ieyasu was able to swiftly regain the strength lost at Mikatagahara.
Shingen’s successor, Katsuyori, has been remembered as a poor imitation of his father, though much of what was recorded about him was written by his enemies. In the short term, however, Katsuyori and Ieyasu were fairly evenly matched, and throughout 1574 and into 1575, they traded blows, with the momentum shifting back and forth.
Takeda Katsuyori. Though perhaps unfairly maligned in later writings, he would prove unable to live up to his father’s legacy.
Ieyasu had something that Katsuyori didn’t, however, a powerful ally. The death of Shingen had removed a serious (possibly existential) threat to the ambitions of Oda Nobunaga, and in 1575, he was finally able to dispatch significant forces to support Ieyasu’s ongoing campaign against the Takeda.
In early 1575, Takeda forces once again advanced against Mikawa province, laying siege to the strategically important Nagashino Castle. Sources suggest that the Takeda invested the castle with 15,000 men, whilst the defenders numbered only 500. Despite the disparity in strength, the fortress was situated in terrain that made it difficult for the Takeda to bring their full forces to bear, and for a time, the garrison held out.
The site of Nagashino Castle as it appears today.
The situation changed dramatically, however, when the garrison’s food supplies were burned. In response, a messenger, Torii Suneemon, slipped through Takeda’s lines and made it to a combined Oda-Tokugawa army that was supposed to have numbered some 38,000 men (30,000 Oda and 8,000 Tokugawa, which goes some way to demonstrating the power dynamic in this ‘alliance’.)
Suneemon then tried to return to Nagashino to inform the garrison that help was on the way, but he was instead captured by the Takeda. Katsuyori offered him a deal: if he told the garrison that no help was coming, he’d be set free. Instead, Sunemon shouted that relief was on the way, and the garrison should hold out, for which he was crucified in full view of the walls.
A later (and somewhat dramatised) depiction of Suneemon exhorting the garrison of Nagashino to keep resisting.
When the Oda-Tokugawa forces arrived two days later, the garrison was still holding out, and the Takeda turned to give battle. Although the Battle of Nagashino is one of the most famous and decisive battles of the Sengoku Jidai, scholars disagree on what actually happened. Nagashino has long been famous for Nobunaga’s innovative use of massed firearms, with thousands of foot soldiers firing in a three-rank system that kept up a constant hail of fire that decimated the Takeda’s famous cavalry charge.
The exact number of firearms and the tactics used are still debated, but what is known for sure is that Nagashino represented a blow to the Takeda Clan from which they would never recover. In the aftermath, both Ieyasu and Nobunaga moved to take advantage, extending their control over Suruga and Totomi Provinces, and boxing the Takeda up in their traditional home in Kai and Shinano Province (modern Yamanashi and Nagano prefectures)
An 18th-century depiction of the Battle of Nagashino, with the Oda-Tokugawa forces on the left, and Nagashino Castle on the far right.
Though Ieyasu had been on the winning side, the victory over the Takeda would mark the time when his relationship with Nobunaga ceased to be an alliance of equals. There was no disputing Nobunaga’s power by this point, and the resources at his disposal dwarfed anything Ieyasu could deploy. Consequently, in the aftermath of Nagashino, Ieyasu found himself a vassal to the Great Lord.
Perhaps the best evidence of how far the relationship had shifted came in 1579, when, on Nobunaga’s order, Ieyasu had his wife and eldest son put to death on suspicion of conspiring with the Takeda to arrange Nobunaga’s assassination.
Ieyasu’s first wife, Lady Tsukiyama.
The long-held theory was that Lady Tsukiyama, Ieyasu’s wife, and his eldest son, Nobuyasu, were indeed conspiring with the Takeda. Some sources portray Lady Tsukiyama as a scheming, evil woman who seduced men into joining her plot, whilst Nobuyasu is said to have been a cruel, vindictive psychopath who committed acts such as shooting random peasants dead during festivals for no reason other than that they danced poorly.
The catalyst for their death was apparently Nobunaga’s daughter, Tokuhime, who just so happened to be married to Nobuyasu. It is said that she hated her mother-in-law so much that she concocted the entire plot to have both of them removed.
Ieyasu’s eldest son, Nobuyasu, who was either a traitor, a violent lunatic, the victim of a vindictive wife, or a combination of all three, depending on who you believe.
There is another school of thought that suggests Nobunaga had nothing to do with the incident and that Ieyasu and Nobuyasu were instead engaged in a long-term feud. Nobuyasu, apparently supported by his mother, is said to have defied his father’s orders and even been plotting open rebellion, with or without the support of the Takeda.
Faced with such a direct threat to his authority, Ieyasu sought the advice of his overlord, Nobunaga (who also happened to be Nobuyasu’s father in law), who is said to have instructed that, as the matter was an internal family affair, that Ieyasu should do as he thought best, resulting in the execution of Lady Tsukiyama, and Nobuyasu’s seppuku.
Whether Nobunaga gave the order or Ieyasu acted on his own initiative, this incident highlights the situation Ieyasu faced in the late 1570s. Subordinate to Nobunaga’s power, and insecure at home, despite his successes, there was still no reason to believe that Ieyasu was going to be anything other than a footnote in another man’s story.
The Battle of Okehazama in 1560 saw Tokugawa Ieyasu’s masters, the Imagawa, dealt a serious blow at the hands of Oda Nobunaga. In the aftermath, Ieyasu began asserting his independence, and in 1562, the so-called “Kiyosu Alliance” between Ieyasu and Nobunaga was formalised.
The Imagawa, however, were down, but not out, and Ieyasu’s position was far from secure, despite his new alliance. In 1563, the “Mikawa Ikko-Ikki” Rebellion broke out, and in early 1564, when the Imagawa announced their intention to crush Ieyasu, several of his vassals in Mikawa switched sides, joining the Ikko-Ikki or else rising against Ieyasu in anticipation of an Imagawa attack.
The name “Ikko-Ikki” suggests that the uprising was similar to other religiously motivated risings that occurred throughout Japan during this period. Indeed, the focal point seems to have been several temples in Mikawa; however, some scholars now suggest that the uprising was motivated more by economic reasons, and some even go so far as to say that Ieyasu may have provoked the rising, or at least took advantage of it to cement his control of Mikawa Province.
A later depiction of the Battle of Azukizaka. Ieyasu is the figure on the white horse on the right.
While it’s impossible to know for sure, Ieyasu did much to boost his own reputation in putting down the rebellion. At the Battle of Azukizaka (sometimes called the Battle of Batogahara) in January 1564, Ieyasu led his forces in crushing the rebels, despite ferocious fighting. The story goes that Ieyasu charged the enemy fearlessly, and came under heavy gunfire, with several rounds penetrating his armour, but leaving him uninjured, inspiring his men, and leading some rebels to switch sides.
In the aftermath, Ieyasu banned the Jodo Shinshu sect of Buddhism in Mikawa, only to lift the ban in 1567, just a few years later, lending credence to the argument that the fighting had never been about religious issues but about political control of the province.
The Honshuji Temple, one of the focal points of the rebellion, as it appears today.
Before 1566, Ieyasu’s family name was Matsudaira, but around this time, he petitioned the Emperor to change it to Tokugawa. The exact reasons for this are related to the complex (and often impenetrable) genealogies of the Minamoto and Fujiwara Clans, from whom Ieyasu claimed descent. You may remember that Minamoto and Fujiwara were the names of two of Japan’s most ancient and illustrious families, and it was a big deal to claim descent from them.
This would become much more important later, as only a member of the Minamoto could become Shogun (technically), but that was still decades in the future. At the time, the name change was probably more closely associated with prestige and a desire to assert independence from the Imagawa, with a new name symbolising a new era for the clan.
Takeda Shingen.
In 1567, Ieyasu further strengthened his alliance with Nobunaga by marrying his eldest son to Nobunaga’s daughter. However, they were both just nine years old at the time, so the marriage was a political rather than conjugal union. The next year, Ieyasu dispatched forces to support Nobunaga’s march on Kyoto, and in December, he made an alliance with Takeda Shingen and launched a joint invasion of Imagawa territory.
The attack was a success, but the relationship between Ieyasu and Shingen fell apart almost immediately. According to Tokugawa accounts, it had been agreed that Ieyasu would take Totomi Province, and Shingen would take Suruga. However, it wasn’t long before Takeda forces were also crossing into Totomi, in direct violation of the agreement (which may never have existed to begin with).
Ieyasu then sought the support of the Hojo Clan, and their Lord, Ujiyasu, who had his own ambitions for the former Imagawa territory. Together, they successfully pushed the Takeda forces back, and in 1570, Ieyasu moved his base from Okazaki Castle in Mikawa Province to Hikuma, which he promptly renamed Hamamatsu, in Totomi. Later that year, he would further prove his value as an ally of Oda Nobunaga by supporting his campaign against the Azai-Asakura Alliance, fighting in the rearguard in the defeat at Kanegasaki, and then providing important reinforcements at the victorious Battle of Anegawa in July.
In 1571, the alliance would be sorely tested, as the last Ashikaga Shogun, Yoshiaki, sought to rally forces in opposition to Oda Nobunaga, with the ultimate goal of restoring his family’s position. The Anti-Nobunaga coalition (which was, importantly, not necessarily pro-Ashikaga) included the forces of the Azai-Asakura Alliance, the powerful temple of Ishiyama Honganji, and Takeda Shingen, among others.
Ashikaga Yoshiaki
In the aftermath of the defeat of the Imagawa, Hojo Ujiyasu, who had favoured an alliance with Ieyasu against the Takeda, died and was replaced by his son, Ujimasa, who reversed his clan’s diplomatic position and reestablished the alliance with Shingen. At this point, Yoshikai, seeking to take advantage of the pressure he was now under, sought to gain Ieyasu’s support, offering him the position of Kanrei or deputy Shogun in exchange.
Ieyasu refused this offer and chose to retain his alliance with Nobunaga; in response, Takeda Shingen launched an invasion of the Mikawa and Totomi Provinces in September 1572. Leading 20,000 troops, Shingen crossed the Aokuzure Pass, and with the help of several defections amongst Ieyasu’s retainers, swiftly gained control of northern Totomi.
A later depiction of the Takeda Army advancing into Totomi Province.
Meanwhile, a separate force invaded Nobunaga’s territory in Mino, meaning that when Ieyasu called for aid, none was readily available. Ieyasu was forced into an impossible situation; his forces were heavily outnumbered by the advancing Takeda, and a pitched battle would almost certainly end in defeat. On the other hand, if he retreated or even stayed on the defensive, he faced the prospect of losing support from his retainers, some of whom had already proved they were willing to switch sides.
The Takeda headed towards the strategically important Futamata Castle, and Ieyasu had no choice but to try to head them off. The advance guards of both armies clashed at the Battle of Hitokotozaka, and the Tokugawa were soundly beaten, causing them to retreat to the relative safety of Hamamatsu, and giving the Takeda a clear path to lay siege to Futamata, which fell shortly afterwards.
In the aftermath of this disaster, still more Tokugawa retainers switched sides and joined the Takeda, and it was assumed that Shingen, whose army, strengthened by defections and reinforcements, now stood at around 30,000 men, would march on Hamamatsu. Instead, the Takeda forces bypassed it entirely. It has been suggested that this was a ploy to lure Ieyasu out of the powerful fortress, giving Shingen the opportunity to destroy him in the open.
If that was the plan, it worked, and despite urging from his retainers to remain in Hamamatsu, Ieyasu was emboldened by some long-awaited reinforcements from Nobunaga and decided to march out and intercept the Takeda. The result was the disastrous Battle of Mikatagahara, in which the Tokugawa were decisively defeated, with Ieyasu himself only being saved by the bravery of his retainers, who fought a rearguard action so ferocious that Ieyasu was allowed to escape, and the Takeda were convinced to call off the pursuit.
A later depiction of the Battle of Mikatagahara
The winter of 1572 saw the Takeda forces camping deep inside Tokugawa territory, whilst Ieyasu himself was holed up in Hamamatsu, his army scattered, and his prospects looking very bleak.
A painting of Ieyasu supposedly made after the defeat at Mikatagahara. Traditional history suggests that Ieyasu commissioned the painting as a reminder of the defeat and a warning against future arrogance; however, this account doesn’t appear in any sources before the 20th century and is now generally believed to be apocryphal.
The third, and ultimately, final unifier was born Matsudaira Takechiyo in December 1542. His father, Matsudaira Hirotada, is a somewhat mysterious figure, with several theories about the events of his life, and even his death, but what is known with (relative) certainty is that the Matsudaira Clan were the lords of Okazaki Castle in Mikawa Province, which is where Takechiyo (from now on, referred to as Ieyasu) was born.
At the time of his birth, the Matsudaira Clan were a relatively minor family in the service of the more powerful Imagawa. This was an era of constant civil war, and plots, subterfuge, and outright betrayal were common. To pre-empt this, in 1547, when Ieyasu was about five, he was sent to the Imagawa capital at Sunpu (in modern Shizuoka) as a hostage to secure his father’s loyalty.
The boy’s escort was entrusted to one Toda Yasumitsu, who promptly betrayed the Imagawa and instead had Ieyasu sent to Oda Nobuhide. Quite why Yastumitsu did this is debated, with some sources saying he sold Ieyasu for 1000 gold pieces (some say 100), and that the Imagawa promptly attacked his castle, and destroyed his family (though other sources say the Toda held out for a year or more).
Other sources say that the whole thing was actually a ruse arranged by Ieyasu’s father, who had secretly agreed to swear fealty to the Oda and had sent his son as a hostage as proof. It is also suggested that this was the first time Ieyasu met Oda Nobunaga, though historians debate whether the meeting actually took place.
Oda Nobunaga, who may (or may not) have met Ieyasu during his time as a hostage.
Despite the somewhat murky circumstances, Ieyasu’s time as a hostage would not last long, as his father soon passed away (the exact date and circumstances are debated), aged around 23-24, and the Lord of the Imagawa, Yoshimoto, arranged a hostage swap that saw Ieyasu brought to Sunpu, where, despite now being the nominal lord of Okazaki, the Imagawa meant to keep a close eye on him.
This is another page in Ieyasu’s history that the sources disagree on. Some suggest he was still a hostage, whilst others point out that, as the Lord of Okazaki, he was a direct vassal of the Imagawa, and instead, his residence in Sunpu was part of a wider policy of keeping vassals in a central location. Either way, Ieyasu was hardly kept in the dungeons, and in 1557, he married Yoshimoto’s niece, Lady Tsukiyama. (Tsukiyama is a place near Sunpu; her real name is not recorded.)
Lady Tsukiyama, Ieyasu’s first wife. Her real name may have been Sena, but that name doesn’t appear in the records until 1740, 160 years after her death.
A marriage to a close relative of Yoshimoto boosted Ieyasu’s standing within the clan, but it may also have played a part in the Imagawa’s own ambitions. For decades, the Kira Clan, descendants of the Ashikaga Shoguns, had held a preeminient position in Mikawa Province. Though not officially governors (shugo) of the Province, their illustrious descent meant that, at least in terms of lineage, they were equals to the Imagawa.
As we have seen dozens of times before, however, during the Sengoku Jidai, the prestige of an illustrious name wasn’t what it had once been, and the real power in Mikawa lay with the Matsudaira. By binding Ieyasu more closely to his family, Imagawa Yoshimoto sought to use this power to assert Imagawa control over the Province at the expense of the Kira and the other Mikawa Clans.
These ‘other clans’ weren’t all that happy to see the Imagawa take over, however. Much like the rest of the realm, the minor lords of Mikawa were an independent-minded bunch and were more content to rule themselves. An initial outbreak of rebellion was crushed in 1557, only to begin again a year later. This time, Yoshimoto dispatched Ieyasu to play a part in putting the rebellion down, and he got his first taste of battle at the Siege of Terabe Castle in March 1558.
Ieyasu earned praise from Yoshimoto and some of his vassals for his diligent approach to warfare. Later records suggest that he recognised that simply taking Terabe Castle wouldn’t be enough to fully subdue the rebels, so he set about burning the castle town and then several other settlements nearby. This may not sound like praiseworthy behaviour to you and me, but Yoshimoto was so impressed he rewarded Ieyasu with land and a shortsword.
Imagawa Yoshimoto
With the rebellion in Mikawa crushed (for now), Ieyasu turned to securing his position as future lord of Okazaki and eventual master of the whole Province. The problem was that Ieyasu was still largely a stranger to the Mikawa Clans. He had been absent from the Province for most of his young life, first a hostage of the Oda, and later residing in the Imagawa Capital at Sunpu.
To resolve this, Ieyasu issued a seven-point decree outlining his relationship with his vassals. This decree was significant because it made it clear that, should Ieyasu’s vassals feel that he is ruling badly or ignoring their advice, they could appeal to Ieyasu’s father-in-law, Sekiguchi Ujizumi, who remained a powerful figure within the Imagawa Clan hierarchy, suggesting that, at least as late as 1559, Ieyasu intended to remain loyal to the Imagawa.
A later depiction of a battle in Mikawa Province. Like many minor clans at the time, the warriors of Mikawa were a fiercely independent bunch who would fight viciously to preserve that independence.
Since the time of Ieyasu’s Grandfather, the Matsudaira of Mikawa Province had been involved in a long-term conflict with the Oda Clan of neighbouring Owari. When the Mikawa and the Matsudaira came under the Imagawa banner, their new overlords inherited the conflict.
During the rebellion in 1556 and 1558, Oda had supported the anti-Imagawa forces, and Yoshimoto, weary of their interference, made the decision to crush them once and for all, which would have the added bonus of clearing his path to Kyoto. In preparation, Ieyasu was ordered to lead the vanguard and attack several border forts.
He captured two forts and then lifted the siege of Otaka Castle, making it his temporary base. However, news arrived that Yoshimoto had been defeated and killed in a surprise attack at Okehazama. At that, Ieyasu retreated back to Okazaki to plan his next move. Historians debate whether Ieyasu intended to betray the Imagawa right away, or if the decision was a reaction to events, but in early 1561, he attacked Ushikubo Castle, an Imagawa stronghold in Mikawa, signalling his change of allegiance.
It is generally accepted that Ieyasu’s change of heart was brought about by the decision of the Imagawa’s new Lord, Ujizane, to prioritise fighting against the Takeda and Hojo, over the Oda, leaving Ieyasu to fend for himself against Oda Nobunaga, who was very much in the ascendancy after his surprising victory at Okehazama.
A 19th-Century depiction of the Battle of Okehazama, showing Imagawa Yoshimoto (the figure on the left) facing his demise.
The long standing animosity between Mikawa and Owari meant that neither side found it easy to stomach making peace, however, with Nobunaga facing serious issues against the Saito Clan to the north, and Ieyasu having to deal with the vengeful Imagawa, both sides swallowed their pride, and, in 1562, agreed to the so-called Kiyosu Alliance, bringing into existance one of Japanese history’s most important partnerships.
(I had to make this a two-parter or the joke in the title wouldn’t have worked.)
Note: Takeda Shingen’s real name was Harunobu, with Shingen being a name he took as part of his religious vocation. In keeping with my policy of using the names that figures are best known by, we’ll be referring to him as Shingen throughout this post, but in other sources, he is often called Harunobu, just so you know.
Takeda Shingen, who has kind of become an unofficial mascot of this site.
In June 1541, Takeda Shingen (then known as Harunobu) overthrew his father, Nobutora, and established himself as the leader of the Takeda Clan and master of Kai Province. As we mentioned last time, the exact reasons for this coup aren’t known; some sources say he was overthrowing his tyrannical father, others that it was a self-serving power grab, but whatever his motivation, Harunobu was in charge, and he had big plans.
The strategic and diplomatic situation that Shingen inherited was full of risks and opportunities. His father had successfully subjugated all of Kai Province and even expanded the borders of Takeda control into neighbouring Shinano. He had been a fierce rival of the Hojo Clan, based in Izu and Sagami Provinces (modern day Kanagawa Prefecture), but had established peaceful relations or alliances with other powerful neighbours.
Almost immediately, Shingen would chart a radically different course. His father had been allied with the Suwa Clan of Shinano, to the Takeda’s north, but in June 1542, Shingen invaded Shinano Province, defeating the Suwa at the Battle of Kuwabara Castle, and forcing their leader to commit suicide, absorbing their lands into his own.
Takeda territory is in blue, and the clans that Shingen quickly made enemies of are shown approximately in red.
Though the result of this campaign is relatively undisputed, the exact nature of how things got started is more controversial. Allegedly, in March 1542, before Shingen’s invasion of Shinano, the Suwa Clan and their allies attacked first, before being defeated at the Battle of Sezawa. The problems come from there being little evidence that this battle ever took place, with some historians suggesting that it might have been a later invention to justify Shingen’s invasion after the fact.
Regardless of its origins, the campaign would be a long and ultimately successful one for Shingen. A series of battles through the late 1540s put the Takeda in a pre-eminent position in Shinano. By 1553, the clan occupied almost the entire province; only the far north, around the modern city of Nagano, remained outside their control.
This would prove significant later, but during this period, Shingen would also prove himself to be a savvy political player as well. In 1544, Shingen made peace with the Hojo and then mediated between them and the Imagawa, bringing an end to their conflict, allowing both clans to focus on issues elsewhere, and securing peace on Kai’s southern borders.
Hojo Ujiyasu, with whom Shingen made peace.
Turning his attention back to Shinano, Shingen would launch semi-annual campaigns into Shinano, winning a series of victories against the clans based in the province, and slowly extending Takeda dominance. He didn’t have it all his own way, however; in March 1548, the Takeda marched against the Murakami Clan, one of their chief rivals for control of Shinano. The Battle of Uedahara was arguably a draw, as both sides suffered similar losses; however, the Takeda advance was stopped, and they lost several key commanders, with Shingen himself being wounded.
In July of that year, another of Shingen’s enemies in Shinano, the Ogasawara Clan, sought to take advantage and push the Takeda back into Kai; however, at the Battle of Shiojiri Pass, the Ogasawara were decisively defeated by a resurgent Shingen, and the momentum would swing back in favour of the Takeda.
In 1550, Shingen took control of what is today called the Matsumoto Basin (around the modern city of the same name), but a second serious defeat would follow in September of that year, as the Takeda tried and failed to take Toishi Castle. Sources differ, with some saying the Takeda lost a fifth of their forces, and others saying it was as many as two-thirds.
Although losses were clearly heavy, as with Uedahara a few years earlier, Shingen wasn’t on the back foot for long. In April 1551, Toishi Castle was taken (supposedly through trickery), and over the next two years, he would drive the Murakami Clan out of Shinano, until they were forced to flee Shinano entirely.
This left Shingen in control of almost all of Shinano, but it also presented a new problem. In fleeing Shinano, the Murakami Clan sought the support of another powerful player in the region, the lord of Echigo Province and lord of a clan that was every bit as powerful as the Takeda, Uesugi Kenshin. Though neither side knew it yet, the stage was now set for one of the great rivalries of the Sengoku Period.
A later depiction of Uesugi Kenshin, Shingen’s legendary rival.
Shingen and Kenshin would clash repeatedly in the years to come, mostly at and around the now-famous battlefield of Kawanakajima (which literally means “The Island in the River”). The first clash of these rivals would come in April 1553, and would be indecisive, but the frontier in northern Shinano would remain volatile.
In 1554, Shingen strengthened his diplomatic position by marrying his son to a daughter of the Imagawa Clan, followed shortly afterwards by a marriage of his son to a daughter of the Hojo Clan, who were also conveniently an enemy of the Uesugi. Following the establishment of the so-called Koso Alliance, Shingen secured control of southern Shinano and advanced into neighbouring Mino Province, securing the submission of several border clans in the process.
The second and third Battles of Kawanakajima would be fought in 1555 and 1557, respectively, and both would end in further stalemate, but following the third battle, the Shogun (very much a figurehead at this point) issued a command that both sides make peace. Kenshin accepted immediately, but Shingen responded that he would only make peace if the Shogun named him shugo (governor) of Shinano, which was duly granted.
In 1559, the Eiroku Famine and a serious flood in Kai Province led to the cessation of hostilities (at least temporarily) and that year, Shingen became a monk, formally adopting the name Shingen. Exactly why he chose to become a monk isn’t recorded, but it is speculated that it was in response to the twin disasters of famine and flood, with Shingen perhaps seeking divine intervention.
Whether or not the gods were listening isn’t known, but after 1560, Shingen and the Takeda clan would begin to move away from older alliances and local authority and towards a policy of seeking power on the national stage. In May 1560, the Imagawa, allies of the Takeda, were severely defeated by the rising star that was Oda Nobunaga, and although Shingen publicly declared his intention to continue the alliance, he made secret arrangements with Nobunaga, with his son, Katsuyori, marrying Nobunaga’s adopted daughter.
Oda Nobunaga. He would go on to be one of the most significant figures in Japanese history, but in the 1560s he was just getting started.
The relationship continued to break down until 1567, when the Imagawa ended the trade of salt (abundant in their coastal provinces) to Kai, effectively cutting the Takeda off from this vital resource. The next year, in cooperation with a former Imagawa vassal, Tokugawa Ieyasu (then known as Matsudaira Motoyasu), Shingen invaded Imagawa territory, taking Suruga Province, whilst Ieyasu invaded Totomi, to the west.
The invasion was a military success, but had serious diplomatic repercussions more or less immediately. The relationship with the Imagawa was obviously already pretty bad, but when Shingen tried to enlist the help of the Hojo in attacking Suruga, he was rebuffed, and the Hojo would instead send troops to support their Imagawa allies.
The relationship with Ieyasu, always a marriage of convenience, broke down swiftly as well. The erstwhile allies got into a dispute about actual control of Totomi Province, and Ieyasu took his proverbial ball and went home, making peace with the Imagawa, and ignoring his previous agreement with Shingen.
Tokugawa Ieyasu. Much like Nobunaga, he came up in the shadow of men like Shingen, but the future was very bright indeed for him and his clan.
Shingen, now surrounded by potential enemies, sought out allies amongst the pre-existing enemies of the Hojo, and launched a counter-attack in 1569, getting as far as the Hojo capital at Odawara, which he briefly laid siege to before withdrawing, contenting himself with burning the town around the fortress.
Retreating to Kai, Shingen defeated a pursuing Hojo force at the Battle of Mimasu Pass, effectively ending the Hojo threat to Kai and preventing them from intervening further in the invasion of Suruga. By the end of 1569, Shingen was in complete control of the province.
Shingen would consolidate his position, but in 1571, Oda Nobunaga, with whom Shingen had enjoyed good relations previously, attacked and burned Mt Hiei, one of the holiest sites in Japanese Buddhism, sparking religious outrage across the realm.
Shingen, who was a monk, remember, was personally outraged, and allowed surviving monks from Mt Hiei to take refuge in Kai. In 1572, the Shogun, Ashikaga Yoshiaki, sent a letter, reaching out to Shingen and calling on him to march on Kyoto and destroy Nobunaga.
By this point, the Shogun’s options were severely limited (Yoshiaki would prove to be the last Ashikaga Shogun), but it was probably a smart move. By the early 1570s, Nobunaga had risen to become one of the most powerful warlords in Japan, and there simply weren’t that many contemporaries who could match him for strength and strategic acumen.
Ashikaga Yoshiaki, the last Ashikaga Shogun. Even by the standards of his troubled dynasty, Yoshiaki was a powerless leader.
Shingen had the strength, he had the experience, and after Mt Hiei, he had plenty of reason to answer the Shogun’s request. Gathering somewhere in the region of 27,000 men, a gigantic army for the time, the Takeda Steamroller began its move west in October 1572, first striking at Tokugawa Ieyasu’s territory in Mikawa Province, taking several fortresses in a matter of days, and forcing Ieyasu to call for help from Nobunaga.
Nobunaga, however, was busy elsewhere, and could only spare 3000 troops to help, not nearly enough, and whenever Tokugawa forces made a stand, they were defeated. Initially, Ieyasu sought to defend the castle at Hamamatsu, a strong position, but weak strategically, as Shingen was able to bypass it on his march to Kyoto.
Forced to either give battle or see himself rendered effectively impotent, Ieyasu marched out and met Shingen at Mikatagahara in January 1573. The result was a catastrophic defeat for Ieyasu, who saw his army scattered in all directions, with thousands left for dead on the battlefield. It was only due to the heroic resistance of several of his retainers that Ieyasu himself was able to survive the battle.
A 19th century depiction of the Battle of Mikatagahara.
Flush with victory, the Takeda forces would continue their advance, defeating what remained of the Tokugawa Clan and securing many castles throughout Mikawa Province. At that point, it may well have seemed that Shingen was well placed to launch a final thrust at the capital, and it isn’t unreasonable to speculate that, had such an attack occurred, he may have been successful, and we might today be talking about a ‘Takeda Shogunate’.
Alas, it wasn’t to be. Despite his military and political acumen, Shingen was still just a man. His health had been getting steadily worse for years. As early as 1571, he was forced to abandon military action due to symptoms as severe as coughing up blood, and after Mikatagahara, his condition took a turn for the worse.
In early spring 1573, Shingen made the decision (or had it made for him) to return to Kai Province to recover his health. Somewhere along the road home, however, he died. Exactly when and where he passed isn’t clear, but most historians agree it was sometime in April. According to Shingen’s will, his death was kept a secret, and although this would later lead to speculation around the circumstances of his death (perhaps best seen in the film Kagemusha), Shingen’s remains were most likely returned to his capital in modern Kofu, Yamanashi Prefecture.
A later artistic rendition of Shingen’s final moments.
Shingen’s sudden death raises some of the most interesting ‘what if?’ questions of this period. He was arguably one of the few men who could match Oda Nobunaga for strength and cunning, and it is possible that, if he had lived, he might have defeated Nobunaga and perhaps led the unification of Japan himself.
This is ultimately not how things played out, but Shingen’s role in Japanese history didn’t end with his death. Although he had a well-earned reputation as a warrior, he was also a wise administrator and reformer, and many of the policies he introduced in his territories were adopted by those who came after him, with some even going on to influence Japanese law after the Sengoku Jidai, but we’ll talk about that another time.
Chris Perry, Author 