The orders came back from Edo: wait. Hold position. Do not advance beyond your assigned coordination points.

Fukushima Masanori kept moving.

By September 12, 1600, the eastern 先鋒 (senpō, vanguard) was in the middle of its westward march, approximately 31,000 men driving along the Tokaido at a pace that startled allies and unnerved enemies alike. Fukushima Masanori commanded the lead corps of roughly 16,000; Ikeda Terumasa led a parallel force of approximately 15,000. They had left Edo ahead of Ieyasu himself — who was still back at his castle, orchestrating the campaign's political dimension — and they were covering ground fast. On September 12, they were somewhere in the Suruga and Tokai regions, pushing west through terrain that would deliver them to the gates of Gifu Castle in roughly two more weeks.

To understand what drove the pace, you have to understand Fukushima Masanori.

He had been one of Toyotomi Hideyoshi's most celebrated warriors — one of the 賤ヶ岳の七本槍 (Shizugatake no Shichi Hongsō, Seven Spears of Shizugatake), the elite fighters who had competed with each other in single combat to prove their valor at the battle that cemented Hideyoshi's supremacy in 1583. These men had built their identities around martial virtue, personal loyalty, and the bond between warriors and their lord. Then Hideyoshi died, and men like Ishida Mitsunari — the meticulous bureaucrats of Hideyoshi's administrative council — began accumulating power that Fukushima and his kind believed rightfully belonged to fighting men.

The contempt between Fukushima and Mitsunari was legendary and mutual. On at least one occasion, it had nearly come to open violence at court. When Tokugawa Ieyasu positioned himself against Mitsunari's 西軍 (Seigün, Western Army), Fukushima required approximately no persuasion. The Oyama Council on September 1 was a formality for him. He had been waiting for this march for years.

The target was Gifu Castle in Mino Province — the stronghold that Oda Nobunaga had famously renamed 'Gifu' after unifying the region in 1567, declaring his ambition to rule all of Japan. Now it was held by Nobunaga's grandson, Oda Hidenobu, who had allied himself with Mitsunari. The symbolism was extraordinary: Fukushima, who had served under Hideyoshi — himself Nobunaga's greatest general — was now marching to obliterate the last symbol of the family line that had made his career possible.

The advance was not without improvisation. The western forces had fortified the Kiso River crossings to slow the vanguard. Fukushima's corps detoured south to find an alternate ford, crossed it without losing significant time, and continued. On September 29, they arrived at Gifu Castle. Initial skirmishes along the Kiso River. On September 30 — in a single day — the castle fell. Oda Hidenobu prepared to commit 切腹 (seppuku); Ikeda Terumasa talked him into surrendering instead.

The shock of Gifu's fall rippled through the Western Army like a cannon shot. Lords who had been cautiously aligned with Mitsunari began reconsidering. The eastern forces had crossed five hundred kilometers in three weeks, outmaneuvered a river defense, and taken one of central Japan's most significant fortresses in hours. The message was unmistakable: Ieyasu's army was not going to wait.

Three weeks later, on October 21, 1600, the battle at Sekigahara was over in a single day. Fukushima Masanori, designated 先鋒, arrived to find that Ii Naomasa had already fired the first shot — stealing the honor from the man who had raced three weeks and five hundred kilometers to earn it. Even that, somehow, was very Fukushima: first to march, denied the glory at the final moment, and furious about it forever after.