Chapter 141
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 141
Chapter Title: Okehazama (12)
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The air swirling around the Oda Clan forces and the Imagawa Clan forces, locked in fierce combat along the river in the open plains, wasn't merely the tension of those steeling themselves for battle.
"Please, please..."
The Oda Clan's leadership, already aware that a separate unit led by Oda Nobunaga had struck at Imagawa Yoshimoto's main camp, grew increasingly anxious amid the deteriorating battlefield situation. They prayed desperately for good news—or at the very least, for Nobunaga to return alive.
"What's going on? Surely something hasn't happened to the main force..."
Meanwhile, the Imagawa army was just as bewildered. They hadn't been able to reach their clan lord since the day before.
They had always exchanged messengers regularly with the lord's main camp to coordinate their next moves, so this sudden silence signaled that something catastrophic had occurred.
"Send messengers to the main camp at once!"
As a result, while continuing to press the Oda Clan, they dispatched every available messenger to scout the ominous, unpredictable situation. It wasn't long before the results came back.
"Th-the lord...!"
But the news the messengers brought was worse than the Imagawa forces' worst fears.
"...What happened to the lord?"
"Th-that's..."
"If you're spouting such nonsense, you must be a spy! Guards! Cut this bastard's head off now!"
"N-no! I'm not―."
―Slice, thud!
The messenger tried desperately to protest his innocence and explain that Clan Lord Imagawa Yoshimoto had long since been beheaded, with the main camp nearly annihilated—but the samurai silenced him by severing his head before he could say another word.
'It can't be true. This guy's either a spy or delusional. Probably fell for some deception.'
Up to that point, the battlefield samurai and retainers waited skeptically for the next messengers.
"Th-this is bad! The main camp―!"
Soon after, a series of messengers arrived pale-faced and frantic. Only then did they grasp the reality, and the Imagawa Clan's senior retainers commanding the field mounted their horses without hesitation, shouting.
"Retreat! Retreat now!"
"Abandon everything except the bare minimum! Retreat comes first!"
They would suffer heavy losses fleeing with only the essentials, but with Imagawa Yoshimoto dead, withdrawing as swiftly as possible was the right call.
'One wrong move, and we'll be slaughtered to the last!'
Imagawa Yoshimoto's absence.
It meant the Imagawa army—scattered and operating under his command—had lost its cohesion. And they knew better than anyone that an army without discipline and structure faced only death.
"Th-the enemy is pulling back?"
"...What?"
Their sudden retreat was impossible to miss for the opposing Oda Clan forces. Amid the chaos, commanders rolling their eyes in confusion soon heard reports of Imagawa troops withdrawing from other sectors too. Instinctively, they realized.
―The lord succeeded!
Though reactions varied, the realization electrified the samurai with near-ecstatic excitement. Oda Clan's senior retainers swiftly mounted up, drew their swords, and bellowed.
"Kill them all! Don't let a single one escape alive!"
"Waaaaah!"
They spurred their horses forward.
"Gahk!"
"Urgh!"
And as one might expect, a great many Imagawa soldiers fell to their spears and blades, turning into cold corpses.
At the same time, everyone on the battlefield understood.
No matter how it had happened...
This war was undoubtedly a victory for the Oda Clan.
"A great victory! The Imagawa forces are retreating!"
Okehazama.
In the muddy hell of a battlefield where, just hours before, foes had slaughtered each other amid torrential rains, a kneeling messenger reported to Oda Nobunaga—seated at the head—with a voice brimming with joy.
"We've captured more weapons than we can carry, and the same for their rations! Congratulations, my lord!"
"A great victory, eh."
Oda Nobunaga nodded with evident satisfaction at the messenger's overly exuberant words, but the captured Imagawa retainers and samurai could only glare at them with eyes full of despair, rage, emptiness, and helplessness.
"...Ah."
"Urgh..."
And then they had to swallow bloody tears upon seeing the freshly severed head of their lord—Imagawa Yoshimoto—placed before Oda Nobunaga.
They could do nothing but deny the reality before them.
...How could they not?
'Where did it all go wrong? Has heaven truly abandoned the Imagawa Clan?'
No need to belabor their overwhelming numerical superiority—this was a war they simply couldn't lose.
Everything had pointed to victory for the Imagawa Clan. Yet that mad Oda lord and her retainers had gambled everything in an absurd ploy... and shockingly, it had worked.
As a result, most of them averted their eyes from Yoshimoto's head and could only stare at the man slumped in front of a nearby tent, speaking with a physician.
"Where the hell did that monster come from..."
That was all they could utter.
Of course, Baek Il-yeong paid no attention whatsoever to the Imagawa retainers' mutterings. After all, he was in the middle of treatment.
"Ah, it stings..."
"Does it hurt?"
"Yes. Quite a bit."
"Can't be helped. Tsk tsk."
"Heh."
Il-yeong chuckled in disbelief at the old woman's calm treatment, but he wasn't displeased in the slightest.
'They said she's an old woman from a nearby village...'
―Swoosh.
"It'll sting."
"Ah. Please."
"A warrior like you, making such a fuss. There, all done. Tsk tsk. You'll have a scar."
"Thank you."
Even at her mention of a scar, Il-yeong thanked her without a care.
It wasn't that he had no aversion to scars. He simply felt it deep down.
'That wasn't a shallow cut.'
He was grateful it had ended with just a scar—what more was there to say?
"Uh, could you take a look at this side too..."
"Mercy, off with you now."
In the brief moment he'd been lost in thought, the old woman had moved on to another patient. Left alone, Il-yeong leaned casually against a tent pole and traced his cheek with a finger.
"Ah, it stings―."
He furrowed his brow at the pain.
He'd thought himself inured to agony, but apparently not.
With the herbal poultice applied and covered by clean cloth, half his face felt concealed, drawing a wry smile from him.
'First time getting hit in the face.'
Of course, his face wasn't the only injury.
His arms, abdomen, and back had all taken serious wounds in the clash with Imagawa Yoshimoto.
'Too many scars, and it gets ugly.'
That resolve solidified an old, fleeting worry—just then.
"Now you finally look a bit manly."
"Ah, my lord."
Oda Nobunaga, having finished reviewing the overall situation and enemy headcount, rose and approached him.
"Not saying it earlier, but you were too damn pretty for a man. If your build were any slighter, you'd have been in real trouble."
Her words sounded like criticism of his good looks at first glance, but Il-yeong knew better.
This was Oda Nobunaga's clumsy way of offering comfort.
"...Ahem."
As if to prove it, Nobunaga rolled her golden eyes, glancing sideways as if worried she'd hurt his feelings.
Unwittingly, Il-yeong responded with a faint smile.
"Too pretty, huh? That a problem?"
"N-not exactly. I mean... uh. Whatever. Tsk."
Caught in his playful retort, Nobunaga clicked her tongue upon realizing she'd taken the bait.
Of course, neither felt offended—they simply shared a strange, relieved laugh as they looked at each other.
Some people, however, couldn't stay so calm.
―Clang!
"Il-yeong! Are you okay?"
As if her earlier bloodthirsty glare at the enemy had been a lie, Mori Yoshinari hurled her spear aside and rushed to him, inspecting his wounds before he could even answer.
"Wh-what do we do? The cut's so long... What if it gets infected..."
Seeing her distraught face, Il-yeong chuckled despite himself and lightly tapped her cheek.
"I'm fine, Yoshinari."
Naturally, Oda Nobunaga watched the pair with utter disbelief.