Chapter 34
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 34
Chapter Title: Battle of Murakitori Fortress (2)
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―Dong.
A low, heavy drumbeat, like one that shook the heart, swept lowly across the battlefield. And as the drumming ceased, thousands of troops began advancing slowly with heavy footsteps over the earth.
'Damn, there sure are a lot of them.'
Baek Il-yeong silently counted their numbers for a moment before giving up right away. What was the point? He'd soon clash with the vanguard they'd sent and start killing or getting killed.
Besides, the atmosphere no longer allowed for any backing out.
Il-yeong glanced back at the ranks arrayed behind him.
Though Il-yeong was in the vanguard, the credit for this vanguard action belonged to Nobuyuki, so both the samurai and ashigaru were all from her forces. However, judging that they couldn't send him out alone, Nobunaga had permitted the Hirate Family samurai who had come with him to join up.
Of course, having reliable allies at his back was welcome, but not all of them were dependable. Itsuki, positioned right behind Il-yeong, had closed his eyes and was muttering rapid prayers to the gods upon facing this massive army.
"If I die, it's the young master's fault. If I die, it's the young master's fault. If I die, it's the young master's fault...."
"Shut up already."
"I've lost my mind. Lost it completely. Vanguard duty? Me, in the vanguard...!"
Itsuki kept muttering while gripping his reins, sounding utterly despondent, but it wasn't incomprehensible. After all, the vanguard was the first to clash with the enemy—the ones with the highest chance of dying, put simply.
Yet Itsuki himself, despite muttering like that, had volunteered first precisely because they couldn't send Il-yeong alone. Knowing this, Il-yeong just grinned and let it slide.
"Lord Hirate."
At that moment, Shibata Katsuie rode up beside him after lightly straightening the ranks, speaking in her usual stiff tone.
"Right after the matchlock gunners finish firing, we'll charge. I'll take the lead and open the path, so support from behind to keep our breakthrough momentum from faltering."
"Got it. Will do."
There was no reason to refuse her offer to take on the most dangerous role. And the one making the offer wasn't some random soldier—it was Shibata Katsuie herself. Reality left no room for worry or leisure.
"As for me."
But at that moment, Shibata—who had fallen silent after Il-yeong's curt reply—spoke impassively while still staring ahead.
"I hope you don't die."
"Pardon?"
Il-yeong turned his head, doubting his ears at her sudden words. Naturally, Itsuki—who'd been muttering nonstop—immediately shut his mouth and rolled his eyes. Regardless of their reactions, Shibata continued gazing forward without a twitch.
"Once this battle ends and winter passes, we'll be able to cross blades for real then."
In that instant, she turned her head and met the eyes of Il-yeong, who was looking at her. Naturally, he couldn't help smirking upon seeing the fierce fighting spirit in her gaze.
"I see."
Once this battle ended, civil war over Owari Province would follow immediately. Inevitably, Shibata—loyal to Nobuyuki—and Il-yeong—loyal to Nobunaga—would meet on the battlefield.
'Looks like I won't get to die peacefully.'
It seemed their previous spar had thoroughly provoked her. Enough for Shibata Katsuie—a name always mentioned among the era's fierce generals—to burn with battle lust.
Smooth―.
Before heading into battle, Il-yeong donned the mask he'd gotten back from Yoshinari and turned to Shibata beside him.
"Care for a wager?"
"...A wager?"
Shibata tilted her head slightly, clearly intrigued by the word, and asked back. Il-yeong brushed over Onimaru Kunitsuna at his waist and replied.
"On who beheads the enemy commander first."
At Il-yeong's continued words, Shibata's hitherto impassive eyes flickered slightly. She lightly spun the spear in her hand and nodded.
"Very well."
And at that very moment.
Click―.
"First row! Aim!"
The battle truly began.
"Charge! We're charging―!"
"Waaaaah!"
At the Imagawa commander's shout, a line of samurai clad in armor began sprinting across the plain in unison.
Gripping crude shields and drawn swords, they charged toward the Oda Clan's position on the hill. And when they'd crossed about half the plain, the matchlocks fixed to the stockade belched fire all at once.
Bang―!
Bangbang―!
"Kaaaagh!"
"My eyes...! My eyes!"
Tiny lead balls sliced through the air and burrowed into fragile flesh. Many samurai ignored the lead shots that failed to pierce their armor and pressed on, but they weren't entirely harmless.
"Loose arrows!"
In the interval as the second row took position and fixed their matchlocks, countless arrows arced in long parabolas, raining down like a storm. With the follow-up lead shots added, most of the ashigaru leading the charge collapsed to the ground, forced to close their eyes.
And as the third row finished firing and the clanking of the charging samurai's armor grew close enough to hear clearly, Shibata Katsuie gripped her spear crushingly tight and bellowed as if she'd been waiting.
"Charge!"
A short, thick command. But at her cry, the vanguard—already holding their breath, ready to surge—began charging forward as if unleashed.
"Uwaaaaaah!"
"Waaaaah!"
Mounted samurai seized their reins and spurred forward. Foot samurai pounding the earth felt their hearts pounding as they drew swords, while the ashigaru following behind clutched spears and screamed madly.
They ran forward. Winter's chill pierced their armor and brushed their bodies. They desperately tried to ignore the fear of impending death, but they couldn't.
Scary. Scary. Scary.
The enemy was drawing too close.
Their weapon hands trembled, their running steps grew heavy.
Vision turned black.
The sun was bright, the sky clear—why did it look like this?
Was there meaning to it?
Did this war truly have meaning?
It was the doubt in everyone's heart, the fear they all shared.
But in that moment.
When the enemy faces were close enough to make out.
"I am―!"
A voice pierced their ears like the roar of a demon from legend.
The ashigaru and samurai who heard it raised their heads and looked toward the front that had seemed only hazy and terrifying.
In that instant, at the vanguard's foremost—where only darkness had reigned—dazzling golden hair fluttered, bewildering their eyes.
"I am―! The Demon Shibata!"
And the moment the vanguard realized her identity.
"Uwaaaaaah!"
"Kill! Kill them all!"
The two vanguards merged into one, and in an instant, the plain was dyed red.
"Don't fall back! Break through like this!"
Shibata Katsuie urged her allies on with a voice drawn from her gut and swung her spear wildly.
"Grk!"
"Die! You... gahk!"
She thrust her long spear to unhors an enemy samurai, then immediately trampled him with her horse, bursting his skull.
"Mercy...!"
"Kaaaagh!"
She dodged a sword thrust straight for her neck, then impaled the chest of a trembling rabble-rouser blocking her path and hoisted him into the air.
Her horse's legs were stained with enemy blood, thick blood-scent pierced her nose beyond the mask. Yet Shibata Katsuie didn't retreat an inch—she charged forward relentlessly.
―The demon, the battlefield goblin, does not retreat.
She wouldn't let outsiders steal the land unified by her former lord.
Thus, she charged ahead, tearing, slashing, and killing dozens of samurai.
When her spear shaft slipped in blood, she drew her sword; she ignored the wounds multiplying on her body.
Neigh―!
"Ugh!"
But in that moment, a spear from an oncoming samurai grazed her horse's eye even as he died, sending the pained beast rearing. Shibata Katsuie tumbled to the ground.
"The demon's down!"
"Kill her! Kill her now!"
No matter how fierce a general, limits existed.
Everyone on the field knew that, so Shibata—who barely softened her landing—had to dodge samurai blades before she could even recover.
"Where!"
"Grraaagh!"
But as if to prove the fame of Demon Shibata wasn't empty, she rolled on the ground to evade a sword and severed his neck in one stroke.
Splurt―.
The headless samurai crashed to the earth, and with that, a chaotic melee solely for mutual slaughter began.
Behead.
Stab the heart.
Smash the face.
Sever hands.
Mounted samurai hunted infantry; infantry dragged down slowed cavalry and hacked them into dozens of pieces.
Blood flowed like a small river across the plain.
And at its center, Shibata claimed the lives of dozens more samurai.
Yet perhaps because she was human after all.
Her stamina drained ever more severely, and the mask that always hid her face was half-sliced away, revealing her slender jawline.
At that moment.
"ShibatAAAAH!"
A samurai whose face had been deeply gashed by a passing spear, leather flayed ragged, thrust his sword as if burning his last life.
"Tch!"
Shibata Katsuie desperately drew her wakizashi short sword to block, leaving her back exposed for another samurai to stab at.
"Die!"
A beat too late to notice, Shibata bit her lip and thought.
'Have to give the shoulder!'
Giving her shoulder would make surviving further fighting hard, but prioritizing the enemy before her eyes over the future—that was the way of a general. Thus, she planned to take one more foe with her.
"Gahk!"
But as she beheaded the samurai before her and turned to slay the one behind, she couldn't help freezing.
"...Grrk."
After all, standing behind her wasn't an enemy come to take her life―
"...Cough. That was close."
It was Il-yeong, who had sliced the arm of the samurai aiming for her back and plunged his sword into the man's heart.
Smooth―splurt!
As Il-yeong yanked the sword from the heart, the samurai collapsed like a puppet with cut strings. Il-yeong handed her a roughly picked-up katana and a red mask similar to the one she usually wore.
"Figured you'd need these."
"...Ah."
And upon hearing that, Shibata Katsuie could only stare blankly at Il-yeong.