Chapter 33
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 33
Chapter Title: Battle of Murakitori Fortress (1)
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Early morning light broke over the horizon.
Soldiers emerging from their tents, brushing dew from their faces, began preparing simple breakfasts without any orders, and even the commanders like Il-yeong and Yoshinari did the same.
"...Ahem."
"......"
However, the moment they stepped out, the stares directed at them were far from ordinary. Their camp tent had no ceiling, just a hasty cloth cover, so the nearby samurai and ashigaru had no choice but to overhear—or even glimpse—their private affair.
"...Ugh... ughh."
Naturally, Yoshinari's face burned crimson, on the verge of dying from shame, and Il-yeong had only managed to drag her out after slipping the long-scratched Hanya mask over her head.
But once outside, Il-yeong couldn't help staring ahead with a look that said, 'Again?' It was none other than Nobuyuki and Shibata Katsuie standing there. He forced a weary expression into hiding and opened his mouth.
"Lady Nobuyuki. What is it this time..."
"...So that's what you meant. That it's not to your taste?"
"Pardon?"
But her words were nothing like what he'd expected. Far from shoving another forced political marriage on him, she glared coldly at the masked Yoshinari and Il-yeong in turn, then let out an icy laugh.
"Right. That's what you meant. But I didn't expect such rudeness. Hirate Hikage."
"Uh. Um. I have no idea what you're..."
Il-yeong racked his sluggish morning brain, trying to figure out why she was so frigid, but Nobuyuki turned away without another word, heading back to her camp.
At that moment, Shibata Katsuie, who had been silently following her, glanced at Il-yeong and murmured low.
"I don't know about Joseon, but this time, even I'm a bit disappointed."
"...?"
Shibata Katsuie and Nobuyuki were already walking away, but Il-yeong couldn't help mulling over their words. Beside him, Yoshinari, who had been frantically gauging the situation, asked Il-yeong with anxious eyes.
"W-What's going on? Why is Lady Nobuyuki..."
"Hmm... well."
After a moment's hesitation at Yoshinari's probing, Il-yeong relayed yesterday's events without sugarcoating.
I saw your face looked like death and went looking for you.
Then Nobuyuki grabbed me and brought up the marriage again, so I drew a firm line.
And right after, I came to you...
Yoshinari, listening with wide-eyed shock, summarized in a trembling voice.
"S-So, no matter the circumstances, you turned down Oda's second daughter's proposal twice, and then immediately went to me...?"
"Yeah."
"You idiot—!"
Yoshinari's vision blurred as she swung her spear at Il-yeong, who dodged the strike laced with real killing intent, breaking into a cold sweat.
What do I do.
This feels like a real mistake.
How many dodges later, as Il-yeong began wondering if he should kneel and beg for mercy, Yoshinari's spear thrusts halted. Instead of swinging again, she clutched her head, sank to the ground, and muttered.
"W-What if they see this as a challenge to the main branch...? We're just starting to secure our position... No... I must be crazy. Crazy... Even if it was urgent..."
Only then did Il-yeong realize the gravity of his actions, forcing his rusty brain into overdrive.
Alright. Let's sum up the situation.
Refusing the first marriage proposal wasn't wrong. Even Hirate Masahide, head of the Hirate family, had balked. The issue was yesterday.
What did I even do?
I just spoke firmly to someone who kept clinging despite the rush. Is she mad because I went straight to Yoshinari after?
Okay, fine. Morally, it might bruise her pride. But is it really worth reacting like that? Yet seeing even Yoshinari so rattled, it seemed he'd truly messed up.
"This won't do. Even now, I should go to Lady Nobuyuki..."
And just as Yoshinari stood to chase after the long-departed Nobuyuki—
"Hirate Hikage-dono. Mori Yoshinari-dono."
Oda retainers strode up, blocking their path. Their faces were fully masked except for the eyes, and they spoke in flat tones.
"The Daimyo summons you."
"...Uwaaaah."
And naturally,
Yoshinari paled at the words.
**
"—So, to sum up Nobuyuki's point: Il... no, Hirate Hikage not only coldly ignored your proposal but flaunted it by bedding Yoshinari right after?"
"And if he has any loyalty to the Oda, including you and me, that's unforgivable."
Il-yeong quickly scanned the retainers in the tent, Nobuyuki, and Nobunaga as he thought.
"...Indeed, Lady Nobuyuki has a point."
"Tch. When Lord Hirate hears this..."
No way. They're taking it like that?
"We can excuse the Joseon fellow, but even Lord Mori's been thoroughly corrupted."
What the hell are they saying.
He'd never even dated Nobuyuki or given her an inch. How was this nonsense twisting from her approaching him alone?
Besides, most retainers, samurai—even ashigaru and low-rank samurai—frequented the pleasure quarters in nearby villages. Interpreting it this way meant they already disliked him and had latched onto a pretext.
But Il-yeong's thinking was half right, half wrong.
True, some had never viewed him favorably, but Nobuyuki's outlandish logic had genuinely swayed them to some degree.
Knowledge alone couldn't grasp the era's ingrained mindsets.
This was a time of rigid classes, powerful clans, and clan-ruled territories. Il-yeong's modern limits blinded him to that fully.
Then, Nobunaga, who had listened silently, stared piercingly at Il-yeong for a long moment before taking a swig from the sake on the table.
Gulp—.
She drank deeply; the sound echoed loudly in the tent where whispers usually drowned it. Lightening the bottle in one go, Nobunaga wiped the sake beading on her red lips with the back of her hand and spoke irritably.
"Nobuyuki. Let me nail this down right here."
She squinted at Nobuyuki, still sitting coldly beside her.
"Hirate Hikage is my man. My retainer, adopted son of my guardian Lord Hirate. So cut the scheming."
Nobuyuki glanced at her, wearing that same eerie sneer from the funeral.
"Political marriages are irrelevant now, sister. The point is a loyal Oda retainer disdained the object of his loyalty—and that's grounds for punishment..."
"Nobuyuki."
Instantly, Nobunaga—who'd been suppressing her irritation—glared murderously at her sister, growling low like a beast.
"I am the Daimyo of that Oda clan."
And just like that, the tent froze solid. But the tension didn't last.
"Scouts report urgently! Imagawa forces are on the move!"
After all, they were on a battlefield.
*
The twilight sky, a swirl of azure and indigo, cleared, dawn mist lifting to reveal the plain.
Upon the scouts' report, Oda Nobunaga and Nobuyuki led their retainers up a small hill overlooking the prospective battlefield.
There, far off, two banners fluttered into view.
Imagawa's crest: a black circle with two thick horizontal bars.
Matsudaira's: three hollyhock leaves encircled.
One nameless retainer muttered softly amid the silent gaze.
"...More than expected."
The current Oda forces totaled about 5,600 including Nobunaga and Nobuyuki, plus 500 from Saito Dosan, making 6,100. Not an insignificant number. The problem: Imagawa's host appeared equal or greater at a glance.
"What are your orders, Daimyo?"
Kawajiri Hidekata, standing silently beside her, asked quietly. Nobunaga eyed the field, then parted her red lips.
"Deploy matchlock men behind yesterday's barricades. Volley fire the instant they enter range, then send the vanguard to shatter their lines."
With Il-yeong's precedent proving the tactic's worth, no reason not to use it. Of course, she had no intention of blindly trusting matchlocks.
"After all three ranks fire, send ashigaru charging into the disrupted enemy formation."
And naturally, those ashigaru would include matchlockmen. Il-yeong nodded silently to Nobunaga's plan.
Not a bad strategy.
Matchlocks couldn't sweep all foes; that was illusion. Future improved versions maybe, but current ones were weak enough that even ashigaru might survive with luck.
In Kiyosu Castle battle, they'd decimated the front but still needed melee as foes reached barricades quickly.
Proof she reviewed my report thoroughly.
Il-yeong watched Nobunaga grip her matchlock tightly, her gaze unwavering on the field.
Then Nobuyuki, assessing from Nobunaga's side, spoke softly.
"Then the vanguard goes to Lady Shibata. She can surely break those lines."
Nobuyuki used honorifics in two cases: sarcasm or asserting faction-leader decisions. This was the latter.
"Shibata at vanguard."
Naming Oda's top heavyweights yielded many, but the finest general? Unanimously Shibata Katsuie.
No issue placing her vanguard. Especially since granting her temporary command required yielding something.
"Yes. But..."
Nobunaga stroked her chin thoughtfully, glanced at Il-yeong behind, and said.
"How about sending Il... no, Hirate Hikage with her, Nobuyuki?"
"What?"
Nobuyuki scowled in retort; retainers and Il-yeong stared, baffled. But Nobunaga continued calmly, utterly serene.
"I value Lord Hirate's adopted son highly, but I've yet to see him earn feats firsthand. Vanguard's glorious yet perilous—perfect to prove loyalty."
"Loyalty, huh."
Her words sounded justified superficially, but an undercurrent of odd emotion lurked. Nobuyuki fanned her plain ever-present fan over her mouth, smirking.
So unexpectedly naive.
Prior debate aimed to undermine Mori Yoshinari and Hirate Hikage—Il-yeong—aligned with Nobunaga.
Of course she'd been irked by his actions, but Nobuyuki wasn't one to show true ire so shallowly.
Yet Nobunaga sending him near the jaws of death? She tallied swiftly.
Sparring Shibata evenly doesn't mean battlefield prowess. Even beheading Nobutomo... killing a toothless dog doesn't make one a beast.
Beating Nobutomo wasn't impressive. She could've slain him anytime if she'd chosen. He just preempted her.
Plus, Il-yeong sparred Shibata with blunted blades. Impressive, sure—but Shibata Katsuie was a proven warlord. Unlikely to die in a skirmish like this, but—
If Hirate's adopted son dies, it'll help greatly later.
Even if he survived, no great loss for her. Calculations done, she nodded to expectant Nobunaga.
"Fine. Let's do that."
"Settled, then."
Nobunaga fixed Il-yeong with a stare, eyeing Onimaru Kunitsuna at his waist.
"Show me. How well you wield that blade."
"...Mm."
With events thus, Il-yeong realized retreat impossible, managing an awkward smile.
"I'll do my utmost, Daimyo."
And soon, Imagawa's army drew near enough for full view.
**
Il-yeong returned to his tent, donning his unarmored black plates meticulously. Fully clad in the now-familiar gear, tension rippled through him anew.
Can I survive this time too?
His own martial prowess was decent, even he'd admit. Sparring Oda's ace Shibata evenly with wooden swords proved it objectively strong.
But Kiyosu taught him: true battlefields of clashing steel were crueler, more brutal, hellish beyond imagination.
So he feared it.
Denying fear would be a lie.
Then.
Flutter—.
The white tent flap lifted softly and fell. Il-yeong turned, bowed deeply upon recognizing the entrant.
"Daimyo."
"Hika... tch. Il-yeong."
Nobunaga started his Japanese name, then grimaced, lips twitching before switching.
She strode to the bowing Il-yeong, standing before him.
"Chin up."
As he lifted his head per her command, Nobunaga filled his view.
She wasn't in her usual chest-baring bandages even here. Blue armor accented red gleamed, beautiful in warrior poise.
Unaware or uncaring of his thoughts, Nobunaga eyed his armored form, then slowly parted red lips.
"Remember my words?"
"Your words..."
Il-yeong puzzled briefly, recalling their recent drink-fueled talk.
You know a battle with Imagawa looms. Impress me with merits there...
And it'll be more than mere sake—a better reward.
Recalling, he gazed silently at Nobunaga; she smirked, gently gripped his shoulder, whispering near his ear.
"You can look forward to it."
If you truly satisfy me—
Swallowing the rest, Nobunaga turned, heading out as she spoke over her shoulder.
"Don't die. I couldn't face your foster father otherwise."