Chapter 138
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 138
Chapter Title: Okehazama (9)
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Matsudaira's forces hadn't budged a single step from the castle they'd last captured.
To be precise, it wasn't that they had no intention of moving—it was more accurate to say their movements had been completely sealed off.
"Make sure the rations stay dry!"
"Same goes for the gunpowder!"
The sudden downpour had passed, but the rain hadn't fully stopped, so they had to tend to the provisions and weapons.
And rightly so— if the arms or food got damp, the army's fighting strength could plummet in an instant. It was far from a trivial matter.
But the decisive reason they couldn't move was something else entirely: internal discord.
"The Matsudaira clan's forces have split into three major factions."
As one samurai muttered with clear displeasure, the situation inside Matsudaira couldn't even be politely described as mere "factions forming," no matter how charitably you put it.
Even under the same banner, these people—each with their own agendas—were fiercely vying for control of the "Matsudaira" name.
The factions numbered three in total.
The first was the pro-Imagawa group: retainers who were outright vassals of Imagawa Yoshimoto or those who'd switched lords to pledge loyalty to him. For now, under Yoshimoto's direct orders, they weren't baring their teeth openly, but to Matsudaira Motoyasu's eyes, they were daggers at her throat that needed to be removed sooner or later.
...No need to overthink it.
If Motoyasu issued a legitimate order while Yoshimoto gave an unreasonable one, which would they obey?
The second group was the most moderate—and the smallest in number: retainers holding a neutral stance between the Imagawa and Matsudaira clans.
Some were inflating their own value.
Others were hedging their bets ambiguously to cling to petty power, while a few were simply watching the winds of politics to choose who to serve.
In short, they mostly stayed silent.
And the third—
"My lord. What do you mean by that?"
—was the pro-Matsudaira faction, led by Torii Tadayoshi, who had resolved to follow Motoyasu.
'They're fundamentally Matsudaira retainers, though.'
Motoyasu gave a wry smile at the thought, but she wasn't foolish enough to ignore reality.
She looked ahead.
Even so, as the nominal clan lord leading the family on the surface, only two people sat before her in the castle's tenshu keep.
Hattori Hanzo.
Torii Tadayoshi.
Just the two of them—but for now, they were the only ones she could somewhat trust.
Of course, Tadayoshi needed more watching.
'Even so. Switching sides again would cost him dearly.'
Tadayoshi could still manage it with some difficulty—yielding appropriately to Imagawa Yoshimoto now might let him join the Imagawa clan. But calculating that the price wouldn't be welcome to him either, she'd summoned him here.
"My lord?"
How long had she been lost in thought?
Tadayoshi repeated himself, a hint of frustration at her silence, and only then did she set down her teacup with a soft sigh.
"Ah... Sorry. What was that?"
"...I was expressing doubt about your claim that Oda's detachment will strike Imagawa's main camp."
This time, even Tadayoshi couldn't hide his unease. How could she speak so casually about something she'd just dropped with such weight?
—Gulp.
And not only that—she took another sip of tea without answering right away. Tadayoshi's mind naturally grew tangled.
'Oda clan launching a night raid.'
That in itself? Sure, viable option—success aside, it was worth attempting. For the Oda, outnumbered and less cohesive than Imagawa, such a gamble was needed to seize momentum.
'But how does Motoyasu know?'
That was the problem.
Her even mentioning it implied some involvement, great or small, in the raid.
'If things go south, even Matsudaira can't escape blame.'
It was a low-odds play, but feasible enough.
"Hmph..."
Perhaps sensing Tadayoshi's face hardening, Motoyasu set her empty cup lightly on the table and flashed her signature sly smile.
"Don't worry. No matter how it plays out, we'll come out ahead."
"Pardon?"
Tadayoshi couldn't make sense of it. How exactly would they profit?
"He was a loyal but naive boy, so it'll go as you wished."
"Reward his family generously. If they want, consider raising his child as a samurai."
"His family will be grateful for the grace."
But the conversation had already flowed beyond his grasp, so he couldn't hold back and turned to Hanzo.
"Ex-explain."
"Nothing much. To prepare for Imagawa Yoshimoto summoning help, we scattered a few of our kids in nearby pleasure quarters."
"Kids...?"
Putting together everything he'd heard, Tadayoshi's eyes widened as he alternated glances between Motoyasu at the head seat and Hanzo beside her.
He had no choice.
His pieced-together puzzle boiled down to—
'Intervened in Oda's raid—likely permitted it—and Motoyasu ordered Hanzo to carry out an assassination doomed to fail.'
—that.
"Why on earth?"
His question was entirely justified.
Teaming with Oda? Fine. But why complicate things with a guaranteed-fail assassination?
"Who knows. Why do you think?"
"I... see."
A meaningful murmur brushed his ear.
At the same time, Tadayoshi hit on a hypothesis, his face mixing awe and bewilderment.
"No matter who wins, you're forcing massive losses on both."
"Mm."
Motoyasu didn't answer directly, merely lifting her tea to her lips.
"...Hah."
And Tadayoshi knew that silence was confirmation enough.
'His demeanor's changed. Hm.'
Imagawa Yoshinari eyed Il-yeong standing before him with narrowed, somber gaze.
There's what they call presence.
Farmers or scholars might dismiss it as swordsmen's bravado, but among samurai, it held wide sway.
'Of course, you can't see it.'
With his keenly sharpened ōdachi resting on his shoulder pauldron, he watched Il-yeong yank the blade free from a samurai's neck who'd just lunged at him.
Not some spiritual nonsense.
Just... the man was angry now.
'Anger's a double-edged sword.'
It fueled ferocity and bold strikes, but dulled movements and bred emotional lapses.
So Imagawa didn't hide his rising smirk.
"Choson man, all talk. Come on. I need to behead you and that Oda whelp."
Half provocation, half truth.
Behead Oda Nobunaga here, and swallowing Owari wasn't impossible.
"Tch."
—Ching!
Had he overthought?
Or was the man more rattled than expected?—Imagawa Yoshimoto curled his lip at Il-yeong, blood trickling from a long gash across his jaw and cheek.
"Raaagh!"
A roar erupted.
Simultaneously, Il-yeong and Yoshimoto thrust their crossing blades to the hilt, aiming for each other's wrists.
'But that's your fatal mistake!'
Unlike standard swords, the ōdachi's extra length let Yoshimoto target spots Il-yeong couldn't reach.
"Kgh!"
Il-yeong realized too late the wrist feint hid a strike at the throat gap—but it was already too late.
'Got him!'
Yoshimoto had no doubt. But that instant—
"Good. You fucking retard."
Il-yeong dropped all hesitation, releasing his sword without a flinch. At the same moment, pain stabbed Yoshimoto's knee; he gritted his teeth and swung forward.
"Grrgh!"
But his blade met nothing. Eyes dropping, he saw Il-yeong's dagger twisted between his knee armor plates.
And by then, Il-yeong—having rolled his soiled body across the ground to evade the sword—licked the still-oozing blood from his wound and spoke.
"Does it hurt?"
Quite the effective taunt.