Chapter 126
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 126
Chapter Title: Fifty Years in the Human World (3)
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"...Fifty years in the human world."
That line felt like a verse he'd heard somewhere before—and as Baek Il-yeong pondered it, he suddenly recalled it was from Atsumori, the Noh play that both the Oda Nobunaga of original history and this world's Oda Nobunaga loved to perform.
It wasn't his first time seeing it.
She often danced it, just as she had at Oda Nobuhide's funeral, the very first time he'd arrived in this world.
But somehow...
The feeling's different.
This performance of Atsumori was utterly unlike her usual ones, starting with the atmosphere itself.
...Was it the shift in mood?
Her familiar attire now struck him as strangely exotic, yet endlessly beautiful.
Her full white breasts were bound tight with bandages.
The compressing cloth dug slightly into the soft flesh under her arms, leaving faint traces, while the massive over-robe barely clung to her elbows as it draped from her shoulders, concealing her slender lines in abundant folds that stirred the imagination.
He didn't find it erotic.
With the cherry blossom screen behind her, she glided slowly in measured steps, silently folding her fan once more—her figure evoked a celestial nymph in its pure beauty.
"Heh."
She let out a faint chuckle at Il-yeong's dazed stare upon entering.
Arrogant, utterly so.
And seductively so.
Oda Nobunaga lightly pinched the hem dragging on the floor with her fingertips and lifted it, stepping forward at the same time.
—Step.
She took a step.
Sometimes light and settling softly on the tatami, other times deliberate and controlled.
—Whoosh!
Then she unfurled her fan.
The fan, which had been closed moments before, snapped open crisply in her hand, and she traced graceful arcs with it.
Rich emotions filled those movements.
Directed wholly at Il-yeong, who watched her silently, awaiting the next verse.
"Fleeting as..."
Finally, her red lips parted, and Nobunaga lightly shifted her flawless bare feet, fanning toward Il-yeong.
—Whoosh!
A breeze rippled along the fan's edge, softly brushing his cheek. At the same time, she curled her lips upward and whispered once more.
"...a dream upon the river."
"Ha."
Il-yeong, who had kept a stoic face until now, smiled back.
It was a strange thrill.
What to call it?
Instinctively sifting through the myriad words flooding his mind for one to capture his mood, he gazed intently at her.
And in that moment.
—Drop.
Oda Nobunaga let the fan slip from her hand. It tumbled onto the tatami, rolling a few times before stopping, but she ignored it entirely, approaching him with soft steps as she spoke.
"Having gained this one life..."
She reached him.
And before he could react, she slowly extended both arms, wrapping them sweetly—lasciviously, enchantingly—around his neck as she murmured.
"Who among us will not perish utterly? My husband, my retainer, my Il-yeong."
Who will not perish utterly.
...Just as she said.
In living life, who doesn't face ruin, who doesn't fail?
"Fear not. You did your utmost."
A warm waft of sake breath slipped between her words, grazing Il-yeong's nose. And that's when he realized.
Was it that obvious? Damn.
He smiled awkwardly.
Embarrassment.
Or relief.
Feeling the slender arms embrace his neck, her breasts pressing against his solar plexus through thin fabric, her once-turbid golden eyes now sharp and vital as they met his—he was certain.
She was comforting him now.
Even in defeat, it wasn't his fault—that's what she was saying.
"...Nobunaga."
"Yes, you sinful man."
Their gazes locked in the air.
Brown eyes tangled wildly with golden ones, and Il-yeong felt all his anxiety melt away under her stare.
I'm not afraid.
Losing right after Okehazama terrified him.
No, it wasn't hard to infer that every path ahead would be a bed of thorns.
...So what?
Oda Nobunaga was here.
Mori Yoshinari was here, Hirate Masahide was here, Itsuki, Oda Nobuyuki, Shibata Katsuie, and countless others besides.
Myriad people he'd sheltered, and who sheltered him, stood by his side.
"You've got it wrong."
"You're always like that. Acting like no one can do anything without you."
At Il-yeong's words, Nobunaga smirked and gently stroked the back of his head.
At the same time, as if by unspoken agreement, they tilted their heads in opposition.
Il-yeong dipped his obliquely downward.
Nobunaga angled hers obliquely upward.
And finally, their lips met lightly. Il-yeong and Nobunaga shared a brief kiss, confirming each other's warmth before parting.
"The rest..."
"We'll finish when you get back."
Il-yeong's roguish grin had returned unnoticed, while Nobunaga flashed him a loving smile reserved only for his eyes.
Then, burying her face briefly in his firm chest, she lifted her head and said.
"Will you help me don my armor?"
At her words, Il-yeong raised a hand.
Then, with tender fingers, he lightly brushed her porcelain cheek in response.
"Gladly."
They both laughed.
*
Clank—
"Hm?"
The samurai standing guard just below the Tenshukaku whipped his head around at the sudden dull clank of armor from above.
Who wouldn't? Out of nowhere.
As he thought how abrupt the armor's noise was, he turned his gaze—and hastily bowed his head.
"L-Lady Daimyo!"
It was none other than the rattling of Oda Nobunaga's armor as she descended with Il-yeong.
And not just that.
"Lady Daimyo?"
"What in the..."
Descending from the Tenshukaku in full armor without warning left the guards, and even those stationed below, equally stunned.
Of course, it wasn't entirely unforeseen.
Just hours ago, a messenger had come galloping in like a madman.
—Marune Castle and Washizu Castle are in danger!
That's what he'd shouted.
But most retainers had assumed she'd send her favored blades—like Hirate Hikage (Il-yeong), Mori Yoshinari, or Sakuma at the least.
This was no mere clan civil war; it was war with a great daimyo.
Beyond life-or-death battle lay something more—and not a few retainers had predicted she'd raise the white flag in her drunken state.
But then Oda Nobunaga shattered every expectation, descending with her husband Hirate Hikage in tow.
"Young master, what..."
"Bring the horses."
Naturally, Itsuki and the Hirate retainers like Akechi Mitsuhide were just as flustered.
But perhaps from their long experience with Il-yeong?
—Neigh!
—Snort!
The moment Il-yeong gave the order, samurai bolted to the stables without question, bringing mounts for the two. They mounted swiftly, seizing the reins before anyone could speak.
Il-yeong and Nobunaga's eyes met atop their horses. He glanced at her, lost in thought beside him, and asked.
"Where to?"
"Isn't it obvious?"
Having sorted her thoughts at his question, she stared in one direction and bellowed, gripping her reins.
"To Atsuta Shrine—!!"
—Neigh!
"L-Lady Daimyo!"
"What the—!"
With that, she spurred forward, leaving her retainers to gape as she rode out of Kiyosu.
"Haha."
That was when it happened.
Amid the stunned crowd in the open yard, Il-yeong—who hadn't yet departed—chuckled softly, then called to Itsuki staring up at him.
"Grab your armor and head to Atsuta Shrine. Bring the clan troops too."
"W-Wait a sec. You mean—"
"Going ahead. Itsuki."
—Neigh!
Without waiting for a reply, Il-yeong yanked the reins and spurred his horse, which bolted after Oda Nobunaga's path.
"Y-You damn young master—!!"
Dust swirled in their wake, and what sounded like Itsuki's utterly reckless, impudent scream faded behind—but Il-yeong just shrugged and muttered.
"Gotta instill some discipline in this war."
Did Itsuki realize?
His words just now had placed him at the vanguard of the Okehazama counterattack.
Probably not.
Yeah, blissfully ignorant.
Il-yeong offered a brief prayer for Itsuki's pitiful future, then chased after the galloping Oda Nobunaga.