Chapter 43
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 43
Chapter Title: The Lady of Mino (2)
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Clack-clack! Clack-clack!
Under the downpour that raged even harder than before, dozens of samurai spurred their horses across the open plain.
—Neigh!
The exhausted horses, shivering from the cold, had no choice but to press on silently under their masters' relentless urging.
Drip, drip.
Itsuki pulled his jinbaori hat lower to shield his face from the splashing rain as he gazed at Il-yeong's back, charging at the very front.
'Who knew he could make a face like that?'
He recalled the expression Il-yeong had worn hours earlier at the ninja's words and gripped the reins tightly—
It was a natural reaction born of the fear he'd sensed subconsciously.
What could he say.
Il-yeong's face upon hearing that Yoshinari might be dead had been utterly blank.
But it wasn't dead emotion—it was rage so immense it hadn't shown on the surface. He'd realized that soon enough.
And now he was witnessing the result firsthand.
Hya—!
Ha—!
He'd gathered every available samurai from the Hirate family and was driving them onward without a moment's hesitation.
One might expect backlash against such high-handedness, but Itsuki knew exactly why there was none.
'...I'm scared myself—what can they do?'
Itsuki was certain.
Il-yeong wasn't in his right mind right now.
'Damn it, why did it have to be Hideyoshi, that bastard we already hate...!'
Of all people, it was Hideyoshi—someone with bad blood toward Il-yeong and his faction.
And to top it off, Yoshinari, who might even become his proper wife, was involved.
It was a situation bound to drive Il-yeong mad in every way, so Itsuki could only pray that Yoshinari was still alive.
If she had died, he had no confidence in stopping Il-yeong's wrath.
"That pass up ahead!"
At that moment, the ninja guiding them alongside Il-yeong shouted out.
He pointed to a narrow path obscured by dense foliage and addressed Il-yeong.
"Horses can't maneuver well inside the mountain, young master. What should we—"
"Everyone, dismount."
Il-yeong leaped off his horse without a second thought. Itsuki followed suit, taking position behind him, and the other samurai dismounted wordlessly in his wake.
"Lead the way."
"Y-Yes, sir."
Il-yeong lifted the edge of his jinbaori slightly, his cold gaze piercing through his disheveled hair as he spoke to the ninja at his side.
The ninja shuddered upon meeting his eyes and nodded, and they set off toward the mountain path.
But then.
"Kill them—!"
"Raaah!"
As they passed the entrance and reached an area where trees grew thickly on both sides of the path, a group erupted in shouts, charging at them with swords, spears, and axes.
"Ambush!"
"Protect the young master!"
Thankfully, no arrows—they came howling straight at Il-yeong and the Hirate samurai. Itsuki and the others drew their swords in unison to guard him. But.
"Y-Young master?"
Il-yeong, who had been right in front moments ago, was gone. They scanned frantically for him in confusion.
Then, a gurgling voice like drowning in blood echoed in their ears.
"Grrrk..."
Slash, thud.
"What are you all doing."
Il-yeong had severed the neck of an enemy swinging an axe at him in one stroke. He spun his sword to flick off the blood and fixed the Hirate samurai with eyes filled solely with killing intent—not cold, but purely murderous.
"No time to dawdle. Kill them all."
The emotion in his words was simple: annoyance. Yes, annoyance.
Il-yeong didn't even see the enemies before him as foes.
At best, low-rank samurai—or no.
Rank wasn't the issue.
They were small fry, mere mobs, bugs blocking his path.
That's why he was annoyed.
Bugs and trash that would die to a single swing, obstructing his way.
"Gaaah! Khek!"
Il-yeong sliced off another enemy's arm, then seized his axe and split his forehead clean in two like sweeping away garbage.
Crimson blood sprayed across his face with a splatter, and even as the impact burst the man's eyeball, spilling it onto the ground, Il-yeong remained expressionless.
Watching him, the samurai finally realized.
Those bugs...
Had no idea who they'd provoked.
*
Tadak-tadak—the frantic sound of footsteps pierced the rain and echoed through the forest. Though thick darkness and fog shrouded their vision, they had no choice but to keep running.
"Ow!"
Kicho, running in the middle, nearly tripped over a rock, making for a truly precarious situation.
Shiiik—!
Then, arrows whistling with lethal intent sliced through the wind and rain from between the trees. Yoshinari, leading the group, sent the others ahead first before whirling around with her spear.
"Hup!"
Most missed due to the narrow visibility, embedding in trees or foliage, but plenty still targeted them. She swung her spear in a wide arc, cleaving the head off a low-rank samurai charging heedlessly.
"Here... Gah!"
Slash, thud.
She didn't even register the tilting slab of meat that had once been human as she turned and bolted onward.
"Chase them!"
"Don't let them escape! Capture them no matter what!"
Yoshinari bit her lip hard at the countless footsteps she couldn't shake.
The ambush had started with thirty men, but reinforcements swelled their numbers, and now the betrayal of the low-rank samurai meant to rescue them had made counting impossible.
'Damn it...!'
She wasn't one to curse or use foul language lightly, but this time she couldn't hold back.
Throb—.
Her side wound must have reopened.
Each step chafed her armor against flesh, sending excruciating stings and numbness racing up her spine.
How long had they run like that?
She chased the faint silhouettes of her companions ahead, but even that soon lost meaning.
"...Ah."
The trees and brush began to thin.
The revealed clearing seemed to part the faint mist slightly, occupied only by a dilapidated shrine long abandoned.
Ikoma Kitsuno took in the scene, rolling her eyes awkwardly before glancing at Takigawa Kazumasu beside her.
"...This is."
"Yes."
This time, there was no escaping it—she bit her lip and admitted as much.
"...Looks like we've been herded."
The chance of stumbling into such a place by coincidence was low.
And the reason was simple.
Presences were closing in from all sides already.
"Kuk, kuheheh."
At that moment, a short samurai stepped forward before the encircled women, bursting into mad laughter.
"Kahahahaha!"
Yoshinari gripped her spear shaft so tightly she worried it might snap, muttering low.
"...Hideyoshi. You dare, you low-rank samurai."
She couldn't forget that monkey-faced wretch with his six-fingered deformity—the one who'd inflicted her side wound.
Compared to her, the head of the Mori family and vassal to Nobunaga, he was utterly ragged. She didn't discriminate or look down on people by status, but equality for all was impossible.
Surely not every low-rank samurai lacked valor or wit. Even Il-yeong, whom she loved, had once been one. But to Yoshinari, these samurai were vermin.
"Mercenaries selling their lives for pennies without even a shred of pride...!"
These scum who'd leeched off the Oda Clan until the first crack appeared, now betraying their lord—didn't they shame the very name samurai?
Realizing battle was inevitable, she flung off her jinbaori hat.
Splat—the black sedge hat hit the muddied earth, and she spun her faintly blue spear once grandly before shouting defiantly.
"Come at me!"
But then.
"A bitch who submitted to cock acts all bold like she's the world's best, huh. Heh heh."
"You dog...!"
Hideyoshi's jeer pierced her ears, and as Yoshinari bristled—
"Do you know what Lord Yoshitatsu promised me?"
"What?"
Hideyoshi slowly drew his sword.
Rough as a ronin's blade, blood beaded on its well-honed edge, and he smirked—vile, truly vile.
"Ten thousand koku and you. Heh heh. Heard you got some joke of a name like Hikage, but a Chosun dog is still a Chosun dog. I'll take good care of a wretch who submitted to trash like that."
"...Now I see even 'vermin' is too kind for you."
Yoshinari steeled herself to die fighting, tensing her legs to lunge.
But Hideyoshi wasn't done.
"Think that's all? That merchant bitch behind you goes to death row convicts as a cumrag, and the ninja slut gets gang-raped by her fellow ninjas before we chop her up."
Such vulgar, brutal fates—they assumed the women would cower.
But pale-faced, trembling Kicho aside, Ikoma Kitsuno and Takigawa Kazumasu exchanged glances and sighed softly.
"Is that the kind of talk you all share, or is it just standard male delusion?"
"Who knows."
Click—Kitsuno loaded her crossbow and fired before Hideyoshi could react. A flash-like bolt streaked through the air toward him.
"Hup!"
But having seen the weapon before, Hideyoshi dodged fairly easily. Contrary to expectations of head or heart, he screamed from the numb pain in his thigh.
"Gaaah!"
Looking down, a half-broken arrow was lodged in the center of his right thigh. Kitsuno clicked her tongue in disappointment.
"Aimed for the balls, but missed. The rain, maybe?"