Chapter 149
Translator: penny
Chapter: 149
Chapter Title: Things That Change (1)
The night's passion had passed in a short, intense blur, and it was only around dawn that Il-yeong and Nobunaga finally drifted off to sleep in each other's arms.
The word "finally" wasn't an exaggeration.
As proof, several of the tatami mats they'd rolled around on most vigorously were ruined beyond reasonable use.
"...This smell."
"This is what intimacy between man and woman is like...?"
Naturally, it was an embarrassing sight for the servants to see, so the female attendants who had sneaked in during that time blushed furiously as they discreetly cleaned up the traces of passion that looked like the aftermath of a war.
After that, nothing particularly noteworthy happened.
"Mm."
"—Yawn."
They rose around afternoon, washed up with a simple meal, and then Nobunaga went off to handle her duties while Il-yeong left the Tenshukaku to join Itsuki and Akechi Mitsuhide, who were waiting for him.
"How much longer?"
"Probably any moment now."
"Let's go."
If he'd planned to head straight back to the clan house, he would have brought only Itsuki or Akechi Mitsuhide, but with more than ten samurai following him... The reason was that his destination wasn't the clan house but the gates of Kiyosu Castle.
'It's about time.'
As Il-yeong reached the castle gate and gazed out over the plain with that thought, he spotted two warhorses charging ahead amid a distant cloud of dust. He couldn't help but chuckle softly to himself.
"Speak of the devil and he shall appear."
"Il-yeong!"
Neigh—!
The horses, already lathered from a hard run, snorted roughly with labored breaths, but their rider dismounted the moment her horse halted before Il-yeong and rushed straight into his arms. Her destination was none other than the warmth of his embrace.
—Squeeze.
"Good grief."
She hadn't even removed her armor, so the metal dug uncomfortably into his arms and chest, but not a trace of discomfort showed on Il-yeong's face as he held her.
It was only natural.
The one in his arms right now was none other than Mori Yoshinari, who had returned after wiping out the last confirmed remnants of Imagawa's routed forces.
"Yoshinari. People are watching."
"Oh, right."
Even as he said it, Il-yeong gently stroked her back. Mori Yoshinari belatedly realized she'd gotten carried away, her face flushing slightly as she stepped back half a pace.
Her ash-gray hair, neatly tied in a ponytail like a horse's tail, swayed with the motion. ...As did other things.
And right then.
"Lord Hikage."
"Ah, Shibata."
Shibata Katsuie, clad in red armor and riding right on Mori Yoshinari's heels, dismounted a beat later and addressed him.
"...I'm glad. You look healthy."
Her words were a concise, polite greeting, but it was easy enough to notice how her gaze lingered briefly on the scars running long across his jaw and cheek.
Because of that, Il-yeong unconsciously scratched at his cheek before responding.
"Yeah, well. Nothing major."
It wasn't exactly informal speech.
Compared to the wounds he'd suffered before, a facial scar was just that—a blemish, nothing more.
No need to go far for examples.
This time, at least, he hadn't dreamed of losing an arm and being abandoned by everyone, had he?
With those thoughts, Il-yeong shrugged, unaware of the faint sneer curling his lips.
"...Still, it's your face."
Of course, Mori Yoshinari shot him a look from the side—her ash-gray eyes filled with anger toward Imagawa Yoshimoto, mixed with worry and frustration for Il-yeong. Shibata Katsuie, too, seemed puzzled by his nonchalance. But Il-yeong paid it no mind.
'It's not like fretting will make it vanish.'
What could he do?
Time had passed, and all he could do was accept it. As he scratched his cheek with that in mind, a sudden thought struck him.
'I wonder if this'll cause trouble in Kyoto?'
From what he knew, Kyoto's nobles were awfully sensitive about appearances. Il-yeong's brow furrowed faintly.
'Not exactly welcome.'
Il-yeong didn't view the scar as some badge of glory, so it was a perfectly reasonable concern. Even if this era differed from the original Sengoku period, the basic societal norms wouldn't have changed that much. If someone made an issue of it...
But he brushed the worry aside.
It was a problem without an answer, after all.
Quickly smoothing his expression in that fleeting moment, Il-yeong watched the troops following Mori Yoshinari and Shibata Katsuie arrive at the gate. Then, struck by a thought, he asked them.
"What's the schedule from here?"
"Probably hand over the prisoners, then see the Lord."
If it had just been Il-yeong's guards and a few wall sentries like before, maybe not.
But with their army arrayed behind them like limbs, Il-yeong naturally addressed Mori Yoshinari politely, and she responded in kind with a businesslike tone—as if she hadn't just been in his arms moments ago. Though she couldn't fully hide the delight in her voice.
"It won't take long."
Shibata Katsuie added, and Il-yeong pondered their words before flashing a light smile.
"Perfect timing, then. Why don't we have dinner together later?"
"Ah."
"Mm."
An invitation to dinner with Il-yeong.
Mori Yoshinari and Shibata Katsuie exchanged glances simultaneously—
"Yes!"
"Understood."
And, as might be expected, nodded toward Il-yeong in near unison, like they were competing.
As it was a dinner hosted by Il-yeong—or rather, Hirate Hikage—there was no skimping on details.
...Or so one might think.
The endlessly long table was laden with delicacies from land and sea, flanked left and right by boys and girls pouring drinks amid coquettish antics, while in the central garden, beauties known as fair maidens played exotic instruments to liven the mood—
"No chance."
"Pardon?"
"Nothing."
—Nothing of the sort happened.
For one, Il-yeong himself disliked noisy affairs, but more importantly, what he wanted was simply a quiet spot to sip drinks and chat with Mori Yoshinari and Shibata Katsuie. Naturally, the two women showed no disappointment that it wasn't some extravagant feast of pomp and indulgence.
They weren't the type to flaunt vain pretensions anyway, any more than he was.
"First time at the Hirate residence. You can really feel Lord Masahide's touch everywhere."
"Indeed..."
On the contrary, Shibata Katsuie murmured in quiet admiration at the refined restraint—unlike other powerhouses' homes—and the subtle elegance infused within.
Il-yeong didn't bother with false modesty.
He simply offered them the well-prepared dishes generously.
"Here, the food first—"
"Mm?"
"No, keep eating."
Of course, he had to stifle a laugh at the sight of Mori Yoshinari, who had already scooped a heaping bite of rice into her mouth with her chopsticks before he even finished speaking.
As she blinked those signature ash-gray eyes at him, Il-yeong suppressed the smile tugging at his lips, picked up his own chopsticks, and was about to take a bite when—
"Ah."
"......"
His eyes met Shibata Katsuie's across the table. He realized she was still wearing the mask that covered her lower face and the bridge of her nose, set down his chopsticks, and let out an awkward chuckle from the embarrassment.
"Sorry. Been so busy lately, it slipped my mind..."
If it were just him, who'd already seen her face, no issue—but Shibata Katsuie went out of her way to hide it from most people. He knew that, so this was clearly his failing for not considering it.
"Ah."
Mori Yoshinari, realizing the same a beat later, rolled her eyes at the awkward atmosphere. Il-yeong opened his mouth to apologize to Shibata, worried she might be upset, her unique golden eyes fixed on him—
—Swish.
Right then.
"It's fine."
With calm movements—clearly feigned—she removed the mask covering her face. She then quietly picked up her chopsticks, plucked a vegetable from before her,
—Munch munch.
swallowed it down with rice, and spoke to the stunned Il-yeong and Mori Yoshinari.
"Sorry to hold up dinner."