Chapter 36
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 36
Chapter Title: Battle of Murakitori Fortress (4)
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“Ugh...”
Baek Il-yeong had just climbed onto Yoshinari's horse.
The Mori Family samurai, who had belatedly followed her, quickly cleared the area around them.
“Grah!”
“Gaaah!”
Thanks to them, Shibata, Itsuki, and the other samurai finally caught a brief moment to rest. They hastily bandaged their wounds or swapped out their weapons.
Il-yeong roughly wrapped a bandage around the gash on his arm, then gently encircled the waist of Yoshinari, who gripped the reins up ahead.
“Eut...”
Though her armor blocked any sense of her body heat, Il-yeong's careful and tender touch was more than enough to set her heart pounding.
“What's the situation?”
Il-yeong couldn't help smirking at her reaction, but right now, they needed to focus on the battle.
“We're in the lead. The Imagawa main force never even showed up...”
“Figured as much.”
In truth, the Imagawa main army was no doubt poised to cross the river again at any moment.
After all, with winter setting in, this clash was less an expedition and more a show of force—a threat.
'Pathetic that we still have to throw everything we've got at a mere threat.'
Whatever. Imagawa Yoshimoto—an old man, not gender-swapped or anything—was doomed to meet his end at Okehazama soon enough.
At that moment, Shibata Katsuie, having somewhat recovered, mounted a captured horse and rode up beside them.
“...Eh.”
She started to say something, but her gaze fell on Il-yeong's arm wrapped around Yoshinari's waist. She fell silent for a beat.
Regaining her composure, she gave Yoshinari a light bow.
“I owe you my life. Lady Mori.”
“Think nothing of it. Even without me, Lady Shibata, you would have made it back alive.”
A strange tension hung in the air between them, but since the two had a decent mutual respect, the mood wasn't bad.
Meanwhile, Il-yeong took stock of the battlefield, running the numbers in his head.
'Yeah, we've definitely got the upper hand.'
The area around them, once crawling with enemies, now teemed with more Oda Clan soldiers.
No wonder they had a chance to breathe.
'Now what?'
Il-yeong pondered.
Even if they pulled back now, they'd still claim victory.
The vanguard had gained the advantage, and the main forces clashing behind them—the second wave—held the edge as well.
“Hahaha!”
But then Il-yeong spotted that hatamoto from earlier, holding up a severed head from one of their allied samurai as he laughed.
And he made up his mind.
Fine, if they were leaving, he'd take that bastard's head first.
'All the mounted samurai I can muster right now come to about twenty.'
Not a huge number, but in this chaotic melee, it was no force to underestimate.
With that, Il-yeong tightened his grip around Yoshinari's waist a bit more.
“Yoshinari. You said we need to rack up merits, right?”
“Yeah. But...”
At Il-yeong's words, Yoshinari hesitated, her lips twitching.
Merits? Of course they were needed.
You could never have enough land, money, or power.
But Yoshinari shook her head.
Without even turning around, she replied to him.
“Not now. Let's head back.”
There was joy she couldn't voice aloud, but the wound on Il-yeong's left arm was no trifle.
Treatment came first.
Il-yeong thought differently, though.
“Then let's snag just one more on the way out.”
“...Who?”
To Yoshinari's question, Il-yeong didn't bother answering. He simply pointed at the hatamoto he'd eyed earlier.
Yoshinari started to shake her head at his gesture but let out a small sigh instead.
“Just that one.”
She couldn't even explain to herself why she'd agreed.
She'd simply gone along because he wanted to.
'Kill him fast and get the hell out of here.'
The hatamoto Il-yeong had pointed out wasn't far, but he stood right at the forefront of the battlefield.
In other words, they'd have to carve through a fair number of enemies to reach him.
But what did that matter?
Il-yeong had decided.
Time to punch through.
Swish—splash!
Yoshinari swung her spear once to shake off the blood, gripped the reins, and shouted.
“Break through in one go!”
At her cry, the Mori Family samurai—and Itsuki and the Hirate Family samurai alongside them—all seized their reins as one.
Shibata Katsuie, who had quietly listened to the exchange, gave Il-yeong and Yoshinari an odd look before gripping her own reins and steeling herself for the fight ahead.
For now, at least.
They were in the thick of battle.
“Hup!”
“Gaaah!”
Yoshinari leveraged her spear's reach to decapitate a samurai charging from the opposite direction in a single stroke.
“Aaaah!”
Riding beside her, Shibata Katsuie plunged her blade into another samurai's gut before hurling him into the air.
Watching the two female samurai's overwhelming prowess up close, Il-yeong could only cling tighter to Yoshinari's waist, feeling like a squadmate riding shotgun on a bus through hell.
“Hff!”
Every now and then, the sensation of Yoshinari's heaving chest brushing his arm made happiness bubble up in Il-yeong unbidden.
But that bliss was short-lived.
“Hikage!”
As Yoshinari turned an ashigaru into ash/i/garu and slowed her horse, Il-yeong leaped down and drew Onimaru Kunitsuna.
“Hiryaaa!”
Naturally, a few samurai and ashigaru thrust their spears at him—but the woman standing behind them was none other than the Oni Shibata herself.
“Ha!”
“Guh!”
“Aah!”
One swing felled two ashigaru. The samurai who turned to target her next lost his life to Il-yeong's blade.
Il-yeong gave a quick bow by way of thanks as Shibata thundered past on horseback.
And finally.
“Nenooom!”
Did a wild boar bellow like that? The hulking brute charged Il-yeong like a madman, swinging his sword down to cleave him in two.
Il-yeong rolled across the ground to dodge, and instinctively knew.
'Yeah, weaker than I thought.'
He'd thought it while cutting down countless samurai at Kiyosu Castle.
While clashing with Shibata Katsuie.
And now, back on the battlefield.
Me.
I'm not weak, am I?
Clang—!
“Krgh!”
He deflected the downward smash at a slant with his blade.
The hatamoto roared and thrust to finish him—but Il-yeong slipped inside his guard and smashed a fist into his throat.
“Cough!”
Armor or no, a weak point was a weak point.
Struck hard there, the hatamoto staggered back. In that gap, Il-yeong shook out his aching arm and steadied himself.
But then.
Contrary to Il-yeong's expectation of an immediate rush, the man gripped his katana two-handed and bellowed in a booming voice.
“A worthy foe! Then by rights, you should give your name! I am...!”
Unfortunately for him—
“Couldn't care less!”
Il-yeong had zero interest in his name.
Just lop off the head and ask a prisoner later who he was. Why bother hearing it now?
“Y-you dishonorable cur!”
As Il-yeong charged with a shout, the hatamoto blocked his strikes in a fury.
Thrust, parry.
Slash, deflect.
Shoulder to the solar plexus, endless blade clashes as he aimed to sever the man's hands.
“Hah, hah!”
“Kah—ptui.”
Before long, the two faced off, heaving ragged breaths.
But in that instant.
“Grraaah!”
As if resolved to end it, the hatamoto surged forward with a ferocity unlike before, thrusting his blade at Il-yeong with blinding speed.
'Fast!'
Unlike his prior clumsy efforts, Il-yeong couldn't help tensing.
But then.
Like a thread of glass, he saw the path of the incoming strike.
In a world that slowed to a crawl, his eyes followed the thread—to the man's neck.
'Can I do it?'
No.
'I can.'
The same euphoria from his duel with Shibata Katsuie flooded his body.
And instinctively, he knew.
It wasn't the modern man Baek Il-yeong moving this body.
It was the Joseon warrior Baek Il-yeong.
“Dieeee!”
Victory assured in his eyes, the hatamoto slashed down from above to take Il-yeong's head.
But Il-yeong, as if entranced, drove his elbow into the man's wrist to divert the blade. He spun his sword half a turn in his right hand, laying it flat, and plunged it into the throat.
“Gurk...!”
They said you could drown in your own blood with a blade in your neck.
Eyes bulging in disbelief, the hatamoto stared down at him—but Il-yeong merely drove the sword deeper once more before yanking it free.
Thud.
His lifeless bulk toppled backward.
Il-yeong strode over and severed the head.
But then.
“You filthy dog!”
“Die!”
Sensing his opening, two samurai from behind lunged to cut him down.
Il-yeong merely glanced back calmly, sword lowered.
It looked for all the world like he'd given up on life, so they grinned as they swung.
“Gaaah...”
“Ugh!”
Yes, they tried to cut him down.
If not for Shibata Katsuie and Mori Yoshinari stabbing them from behind.
“How dare you...”
“Tch.”
They clearly took issue with such rabble daring to go after Il-yeong. Frowning, they dispatched the trash like so much garbage and approached him.
And, almost in unison, they said.
“Let's go back, Il-yeong.”
“Time to withdraw, Hikage.”