Chapter 42
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 42
Chapter Title: The Lady of Mino (1)
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The dark gray sky shed tears.
In weather too mild for winter yet too harsh for autumn, heavy rain ill-suited to the season poured down with a relentless shwaa..., crashing into the earth.
Gray clouds veiled the sun, thick mist filling the forest.
A blessing for the fleeing.
A curse for the pursuers.
"Cough!"
Yoshinari felt rainwater trickling down the brim of her black bamboo hat as she spat out a cough laced with blood. The wound on her side from the escape seemed deeper than she'd thought.
'I let my guard down.'
Who could have foreseen low-rank samurai turning traitor? For the first time in ages, she harbored true killing intent, grinding her teeth.
"...Here."
At that moment, a white handkerchief thrust out before her.
Lifting her gaze along it, she saw a silver-haired woman standing there, eyes filled with guilt, fear, and sorrow.
Yoshinari stared for a moment at the handkerchief offered by the girl who looked more child than adult in her petite frame, then took it and wiped the blood from her mouth.
She bowed her head lightly.
"Thank you, Lady Kicho."
"Ah, no. This is all because of me."
At Yoshinari's polite nod, the girl bowed back instead. Her silver hair, reaching to her waist, swayed faintly. Though shivering in the cold, she worried for Yoshinari.
Rustle.
A sound from the bushes made Yoshinari grip her spear instantly, but a familiar whisper reached her ear.
"It's me, Yoshinari."
Recognizing the voice, she loosened her hold slightly and stepped aside to let the hider emerge.
"Whew, thanks."
Yoshinari couldn't help pondering the identity of this brown-haired woman, whose aura felt un-noble yet carried an odd refinement.
'Ikoma Kitsuno.'
The head of the Ikoma Merchant Group based in Owari—and one of the targets under escort this mission.
"Still, I wonder if those ninjas are alright."
The mention of ninjas drew Yoshinari's concern for absent allies. They'd drawn the enemies' eyes to allow escape.
But she soon realized it foolish.
They weren't safe yet—who was worrying whom?
'Can I make it back alive?'
Suddenly, her promise to Il-yeong surfaced.
She'd thought a week at most, but now it seemed broken.
It soured her mood; she gave a wry smile.
'Il-yeong.'
At least, if imagining the worst—death—she'd conveyed her feelings.
But then.
"Why the grim face? Like you're about to die."
Ikoma Kitsuno brushed raindrops from her cloak and eyed her.
"Don't worry. I can protect myself."
As if reading Yoshinari's concern, she smirked and waggled her wrist, where something bulged.
"You saw yesterday, right?"
Yoshinari recalled the weapon. A miniaturized crossbow strapped to the wrist, like a small arm-mounted version of the common quarrel launcher.
Indeed, during the betrayal and skirmish, Kitsuno had pierced two foes' foreheads with it, then slit another's throat with a dagger.
Yet Yoshinari shook her head.
"I don't mind dying, but you and Lady Kitsuno can't be risked. If it comes to it, abandon me and flee."
The daimyo's order was clear: escort Lady Kicho and Kitsuno safely to Owari. Yoshinari intended to fulfill it.
But Ikoma Kitsuno looked incredulous.
"Abandon you? If I can save you, I will. Did Nobunaga really say that?"
"N-Nobunaga? The daimyo is..."
"Whatever. To me, she's just a reckless kid playing tough."
She muttered that her antics were cute too—but just in case, wiped moisture from the crossbow with a cloth, adding,
"Survive if you can. Dying pointlessly just saddens survivors."
Her voice held bitterness and regret, as if from experience.
Thus, Yoshinari fell silent, unable to reply.
As both held their tongues, quiet descended.
Shwaa...
The misty forest echoed only with pounding rain, wind pattering leaves, and faint insect cries.
How much time passed?
The rain eased somewhat; they sensed it, ready to move again.
Rustle.
Nearby bushes shook once more.
They froze mid-straighten. Unlike Kitsuno, who'd briefly scouted, no allies should approach.
"Lady. Behind me."
"...Yes."
Yoshinari gripped her spear shaft, shielding the frail Kicho.
She drew a deep breath, poised to charge and cleave foes.
Click.
Perfectly timed, Kitsuno loaded her wrist crossbow, aiming at the bushes.
A tense instant.
Tension hung in the forest.
Kicho huddled smaller, dreading the coming fight; Yoshinari's eyes blazed murderously, ready to strike.
But then.
"It's me."
"...Ah!"
A flat, emotionless voice—dry as devoid of feeling—parted the bushes. A woman emerged; relief and joy mixed in their sighs.
None other than Takigawa Kazumasu, jonin of Kouka Ryu, assigned by Nobunaga's secret order to guard them.
Yoshinari relaxed her grip, lifting her raincoat hem with a relieved smile.
"Glad you're safe, Takigawa Kazumasu."
But beside her, Kitsuno—also relieved—spotted the wound up close and rushed over, checking her arm.
"You okay?"
"Just grazed by an arrow. I'm fine."
A lie.
No mere graze would ooze blood like that.
She omitted pulling the arrow from her arm.
"...Don't push too hard. As long as it didn't hit bone."
But Kitsuno, veteran of many caravans, saw through the obvious fib.
With no choice, she whispered so only Kazumasu heard.
At the advice,
The long-haired woman with sharp jawline glanced down from under her raincoat at Kitsuno's face, then nodded blankly.
"Understood, Head."
Meanwhile, silently watching Kicho raised a tentative hand.
"Um... what about the other ninjas who went with us?"
Not just the silver-haired girl; Yoshinari and Kitsuno wondered too.
But they hadn't voiced it.
—Instinct told them enough.
"The ninjas."
Takigawa Kazumasu shed her loosened raincoat impassively, retying it with equal detachment as she answered.
"Half died diverting them. The rest scattered for reinforcements. Most will likely be caught en route."
"Ah..."
Her dry words stabbed sharper for their lack of emotion; the silver-haired girl bowed her head, as if in minimal respect for the fallen—due to her.
Thus, Kitsuno patted her shoulder gently.
"Don't blame yourself too much, Kicho. They did their duty."
"But..."
"First, focus on surviving. Guilt's expensive; it doesn't fade easy."
She smiled wryly.
Her words rang profound; Kicho nodded, face steadier despite fragility.
Meanwhile, Takigawa noted their exchange while donning her neatly tied raincoat.
She adjusted her torn, slashed garb, pondering.
'How many days till reinforcements?'
Nearly half Kouka Ryu's ninjas who'd joined Oda via her had perished.
But it mattered little. What counted: how many scattered messengers reached aid.
Normally, she'd order all to Nagoya.
But Oda was relocating to Kiyosu Castle. Nobunaga might be absent.
Thus, her plan: two prongs.
Send to Kiyosu and Nagoya—and Hirate family.
Glancing at Yoshinari,
'She's his woman, right?'
She didn't trust Il-yeong.
More precisely, felt nothing toward him.
But she trusted bonds.
Hirate Hikage.
Or Baek Il-yeong—that man wouldn't abandon Yoshinari.
That's why she'd sent one to Hirate too.
'Best if it reaches the daimyo, of course.'
Thus: one to Hirate.
Three each to Kiyosu, Nagoya.
Statistically, Il-yeong was insurance.
"We should move. Can you?"
She halted thoughts, urging speed. Rain and mist hampered pursuit, but not ended.
"Yes. Let's go."
"Agreed."
They concurred, stepping out.
Or trying to.
Thud-thud—
"Shoot!"
But for the footsteps from the mist-shrouded distance and foes' barked cries.
"...!"
Their gazes met mid-air.
"Run!"
No need to say who first—they bolted into the forest.
The chase resumed.