Chapter 27
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 27
Chapter Title: Hirate Hikage (2)
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Unlike the previous banquet, the meeting hall was devoid of any friendly laughter or conversation. The retainers, clearly divided into two factions at a glance, simply exchanged uncomfortable silences as they eyed one another.
“Ahem.”
“...Hm.”
At Nobunaga's side stood heavyweights like Yoshinari, Hirate Masahide, Kawajiri Hidekata, and Sakuma Nobumori. In contrast, Nobuyuki's side lacked prominent figures aside from Shibata Katsuie standing outside, but it was filled with many young retainers.
Another way to interpret it was that the senior retainers who valued Nobunaga's claim as the eldest daughter of the late Daimyo Nobuhide supported her, while the relatively younger ones, seeking survival or doubting Nobunaga's qualities, sided with Nobuyuki.
Naturally, the looks they exchanged weren't kind.
To the senior retainers, Nobuyuki's supporters seemed like immature fools lacking judgment or power-hungry idiots. Conversely, the younger retainers viewed Nobunaga's supporters as stubborn old-timers obsessed with outdated notions of legitimacy.
“Well, no one's in the mood for pleasant chit-chat...”
Surprisingly, it was Nobunaga—not Nobuyuki—who broke the tense silence. She took a sip of tea from the cup her attendant had poured and set it down.
“Troops?”
“We can muster 300 samurai including 200 archers and 100 mounted samurai, plus 1,500 ashigaru. What about you, sister?”
“300 arquebusiers and 300 archers, 500 samurai including mounted ones, and 2,500 ashigaru.”
Nobuyuki's retainers glanced at Nobunaga in surprise at her call for even larger forces than expected. After all, even forces gathered to repel an invasion would inevitably be turned against each other. It was only natural to hold back as much as possible.
“Hmm... What's your angle?”
Nobuyuki felt the same way. She could have mobilized more but had scaled back to about a third, yet Nobunaga's numbers were half of what she could actually field.
No matter that this battle wasn't all-out war, losses wouldn't be light. Yet Nobunaga had summoned a substantial force. Nobuyuki couldn't help but wonder. But Nobunaga's response was utterly unexpected.
“No matter how messed up things are at home, as the lord, I can't just stand by while the neighbors try to steal our household goods. That's a given, Nobuyuki.”
A smirk. Nobunaga downed the rest of her tea in one gulp. Then, glancing at her attendant, she added,
“This tea's too bland as always. Bring sake.”
“Yes, my lady.”
It was routine for the attendant by now, so he promptly fetched a pre-prepared sake bottle and handed it over. Nobunaga uncorked it and took a swig.
“...Ahh.”
The sharp, lukewarm liquid slid down her throat and settled warmly in her stomach. She savored the sensation with a satisfied smile.
“...Ahem.”
“Hah.”
Unsurprisingly, Nobuyuki's retainers wore grim expressions. No matter that she was family, such behavior in front of a rival for the Daimyo's seat showed utter disrespect.
Yet Nobuyuki herself calmly lifted her teacup to her lips with a faint, composed smile, as if accustomed to it.
“Oh, right.”
Just before the cup touched her lips, she flashed a bright-eyed smile and said,
“Mother worries about you so much, sister. She frets you'll get hurt doing something foolish...”
“...Lady Nobuyuki.”
It was Hirate Masahide, not Nobunaga, who responded immediately. He didn't openly show discomfort but subtly furrowed his brow as he addressed her.
“Enough of that, Uncle.”
Nobunaga waved him off lightly to silence him, took another sip of sake, and let out a hollow, self-mocking reply.
“How thoughtful of her.”
Everyone knew—even common folk—that their birth mother, Dota Gozen, doted far more on Nobuyuki than on Nobunaga. Just look at where she resided: not Nagoya Castle, home to the Daimyo and eldest daughter Nobunaga, but Suemori Castle, Nobuyuki's stronghold.
“Enough about Mother.”
Nobunaga licked the lingering sake droplet from her lips with her red tongue, then eyed Nobuyuki sipping her tea leisurely.
“How's the little one, Nobuyuki?”
She wasn't particularly curious about her mother. The only kin she truly cared for was one. Nobuyuki knew this and nodded readily.
“Oichi's doing well. Aside from occasionally missing Father, now that she's still so young...”
“Tch. I see.”
The youngest, Oichinokata. At just eight years old, a father's death was something no child could easily accept or comprehend. Nobuyuki gazed at Nobunaga, who clicked her tongue with rare affection in her voice, and said,
“She talks about you quite a bit too. You've always been kind to her.”
It was true. Not just Nobunaga—Oichi was beloved by all. Even if the sisters' conflict led to one's death, Oichi would surely be taken in.
“I'm planning to move to Kiyosu soon. So it wouldn't hurt to visit her before then.”
At the very least, Oichi was a bridge allowing the sisters to set aside their rift, however briefly. That's why Nobunaga said it. And Nobuyuki nodded without sarcasm or calculation.
“Yeah. I will.”
Was it the joy of talking about their little sister? The frigid atmosphere in the meeting hall began to thaw just a bit.
Screeech—.
“...My lady.”
A Hirate family samurai burst in with an urgent expression. He faltered briefly under the senior retainers' stares but hurried past them to whisper in the ear of Hirate Masahide, seated beside Nobunaga. Masahide, usually unflappable, stiffened and asked back,
“...What?”
And in that moment.
“...That idiot monkey.”
Nobunaga narrowed her eyes and shot up from her seat. She'd overheard the samurai's quiet words.
“My lady!”
Hirate Masahide belatedly showed faint alarm and tried to stop her, but Nobunaga had already stormed out past the retainers.
“Lady Mori! After her!”
Yoshinari had stared blankly at Nobunaga's retreating figure, clueless as to what happened. But at Masahide calling her name, she sprang up and followed.
**
“Hirate Hikage.”
Nobunaga glowered at Il-yeong, who stared back at her. All the surrounding samurai and retainers had bowed their heads, yet this blockheaded monkey stood there blankly, oblivious to his fault.
“M-My lady. We were just...”
“Shut it.”
Shibata Katsuie tried to make excuses late, but Nobunaga cut him off.
She surveyed the two standing silently in the training grounds.
Perhaps out of consideration since Il-yeong wore no armor, Shibata—who had arrived in full armor—had dueled without it. That made their conditions all the more starkly visible.
Il-yeong breathed raggedly, his subtly exposed wrists swollen red beyond bruising with a faint black tinge. His usually smooth face was flushed red in patches.
Not just that. Several spots had burst or torn, leaving dark bloodstains across his body. Shibata Katsuie was likewise battered, but Nobunaga's eyes were fixed solely on Il-yeong.
“You idiot...”
Was it the sake? Or sheer anger? Nobunaga's irritation and inexplicable fury boiled over entirely toward Il-yeong.
What kind of warrior was Shibata Katsuie?
One Nobunaga herself acknowledged as a master. The woman dubbed Oni Shibata, whom ordinary samurai couldn't even stand against.
She wasn't a fool, either.
She knew Il-yeong had been a warrior in Joseon and could tell from appearances he held his own against her.
Yet she glared at him, unable to fathom her own rage.
What irked her most was Il-yeong's expression.
“W-What do you mean, idiot... I just...”
This clueless monkey from Joseon gazed back at her innocently, as if utterly wronged and unaware of his blunder.
Then, Hirate Masahide, arriving late and breathless, whispered lowly, suppressing his heavy breathing.
“My lady. Treatment first...”
His words were utterly reasonable. Sparring among samurai was commonplace, and since Il-yeong hadn't been overwhelmingly defeated, praise was in order. But with the Daimyo Nobunaga—perhaps due to sake—losing emotional control, he sought to end the scene.
“Lady Shibata. Your wounds don't look light. I'll provide quarters for now...”
“Ah, understood, Lord Hirate.”
Masahide signaled Shibata with his eyes, and she, sensing the mood, nodded promptly. But at that instant.
“No, Uncle.”
Nobunaga bit her red lips hard, glaring at Il-yeong with golden eyes laced with odd irritation. She brushed back her slightly obscuring bangs and fixed her gaze on the impudent monkey.
“This monkey's treatment will be at my quarters. Yoshinari. Bring that idiot along.”
“...Pardon?”
This time, it was Il-yeong who blurted out in shock, not Masahide. His mind blanked, struggling to process the situation.
He hadn't even lost the duel—why was she so furious?
But then.
“Yoshinari!”
“Y-Yes!”
At Nobunaga's sharp, irritated shout—the first of its kind—Yoshinari rushed to Il-yeong, hoisted him up before he could protest, and hurried after Nobunaga toward her quarters.
“...What the.”
“Hmm...”
The training grounds fell into stunned silence amid the commotion. Even they struggled to understand Nobunaga's hypersensitivity toward Il-yeong.
Of course.
“...Pfft.”
Nobuyuki, who had watched it all quietly, trailed Nobunaga's figure with eyes brimming with unprecedented intrigue and amusement, stifling a laugh.