Chapter 5
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 5
Chapter Title: Hirate Family (2)
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As they entered the residence, the guards surrounding them scattered in every direction, leaving only four behind. Of course, that was to be expected from their perspective, but there was one peculiar detail.
They hadn't confiscated the two katanas prominently hanging from Il-yeong's waist. But Il-yeong quickly realized why.
'Whether I draw them or not, it doesn't matter.'
Uemon was leading the way ahead, but two guards stood between her and Il-yeong, blocking any approach. They exuded utter confidence.
Confidence that they could cut down a mere low-rank samurai like him before he even reached the young lady.
Once his thoughts reached that point, Il-yeong scratched his head with a wry smile, though his mood wasn't soured.
'Well, it's only natural.'
Even though Oda Nobunaga had drawn considerable political fire for her antics at the funeral, these were warriors serving one of the Oda clan's most revered heavyweights, a man who commanded overwhelming respect and authority among the senior retainers. If they lacked even this level of pride, that would be the real oddity.
So rather than risk saying something needless and souring the atmosphere further, Il-yeong opted to take in the sights of the mansion.
'This isn't the Hirate family's main residence. They're just staying here to lend their support to Nobunaga.'
In other words, it was more like a villa of sorts.
Given their influence, they could have built a sprawling estate rivaling the clan lord's own if they'd so desired. Yet the building that met Il-yeong's eyes was far removed from such expectations.
What to say...
It wasn't shabby, yet utterly unpretentious; not ostentatious, but steeped in refined elegance. There wasn't a single trace of the lavish luxuries typically found in a powerful clan's home. Even Il-yeong had to concede the point this time.
The structure itself was grand and spacious, but its furnishings were little different from those in a modestly ornate commoner's house. Remembering that the man was a senior retainer who had enjoyed the favor of the previous clan lord, Oda Nobuhide, Il-yeong couldn't deny it.
'...Not only a loyal vassal willing to lay down his life for his lord, but incorruptibly honest to boot.'
Wait—now that he thought about it, the man's talents were exceptional too.
'...He's unreal.'
Harboring that peculiar respect, Il-yeong continued following Uemon. They walked corridors that twisted into more corridors.
After repeating the pattern so many times that he was starting to lose track, they arrived at a spacious room with a view of an interior courtyard off to the side.
"Here is..."
Il-yeong voiced his puzzlement, and Uemon slowly turned to face him.
Her black pupils reflected Il-yeong's silhouette as she bowed her head with impeccable etiquette and spoke.
"Please wait here—Father will arrive shortly. Then, if you'll excuse me."
As if her duty were complete, Uemon departed with the guards, retracing their steps. Left suddenly alone, Il-yeong scratched his head awkwardly and muttered,
"...At least light the lamps before you go."
The room she'd shown him to held plenty of candles, yet not a single one was lit. Had there been flint nearby, he might have kindled them himself.
That was when it happened.
"Hm?"
Moonlight suddenly pierced the darkness, flooding the interior courtyard and illuminating it brilliantly. At a glance, the trees and flowers there were meticulously tended.
"...Haha. No wonder they let me keep my weapons."
However, apart from that, Il-yeong let out an awkward laugh at the sight that belatedly drew his eye. The reason was simple.
Click—.
Shing—.
On the far side of the moonlit courtyard.
Over twenty matchlock riflemen lay prone there, their weapons trained solely on Il-yeong.
Slowly turning his head revealed over ten samurai standing ready outside the opposite door, their katanas drawn.
And in that instant.
Creak.
The door at the far end of Il-yeong's room swung open with the groan of rusty hinges, revealing a familiar old man who looked markedly different from his exterior appearance.
"Don't move. Whatever your intentions, the moment you approach me, they'll cut you down."
The old man—no.
Hirate Masahide halted where moonlight bathed half his face, then addressed the head-scratching Il-yeong.
"I'll be direct."
"Yes. Ask away."
Il-yeong nodded steadily amid the abrupt shift, maintaining his composure. If anything, he was intrigued. How much had the man foreseen? What would he ask...
He had no choice but to anticipate, given the foresight that had sent his daughter Uemon to fetch him in the first place.
But Il-yeong's expectations were swiftly dashed. Hirate posed his question with utter conviction.
"Is your lord the king of Joseon?"
"...Pardon?"
For an instant, Il-yeong doubted his own ears.
What is this old coot blathering about?
Unfortunately, the words Il-yeong had heard were a perfectly coherent string. Seeing Il-yeong's awkward reaction, Hirate pressed with even greater certainty.
"I asked if the one you serve is the king of Joseon."
And that was,
from Il-yeong's standpoint, utterly unforeseen...
"Wh-what kind of bullshit is that?"
Utter bullshit.
"Um..."
Yoshinari groaned softly, perched on a rock at the mountain's base where the ninja's head had come to rest. She seemed on the verge of resolve, only to shake her head and mutter,
"But... if word gets out, it could blow up into a clan matter..."
Her dilemma boiled down to one thing.
Why had that Joseon-born ronin—whom she'd nearly beheaded moments ago—gone off for a private audience with Hirate?
At first, she'd taken Uemon at her word and set off to round up the scattered ninjas. But a moment's reflection exposed a glaring hole in that story.
'Whether they summon him at night or in broad daylight, Uemon escorting him changes nothing!'
Il-yeong was oblivious, but to the Oda clan's senior retainers, Uemon was a veritable treasure. Her status as Hirate's eldest daughter played a part, but above all, it was her doll-like adorableness.
Middle-aged retainers doted on her like a daughter, while the elderly treated her as a granddaughter.
Of course, more intricate "adult circumstances" likely factored in, but at least that's how Mori Yoshinari saw it.
She herself had more than once pitied—from afar—Uemon's mismatched personality against her cute appearance.
Uemon personally stepping in, and no rumors spreading? Fat chance.
With that, Yoshinari nodded firmly as if decided, then shouted with vigor,
"Right! It's gotta be a fabrication to dodge the situation!"
If so, she had to investigate.
She respected Hirate Masahide as much as anyone, but she couldn't just gloss over something suspicious without verifying it.
"Then, off I—oh."
True to her decisive nature, as she moved to head straight for the Hirate residence, she glanced at the ninja's head—now stiffening and paling—and muttered in near-disaster relief,
"No matter the urgency, merit's merit. Yep, that's that."
Yoshinari scanned for witnesses, then roughly shoved the ninja's body and head into a rocky crevice behind her perch.
Someone would come looking within an hour or two at most—no need to overdo the concealment.
"Heh. Nobunaga-sama'll love this."
Already anticipating praise, she set off toward the collapsed wooden fence with lively steps. And then.
"Hm?"
The clouds fully parted, and brilliant moonlight bathed her, stretching her shadow long behind.
"Beautiful...!"
Yoshinari let out an awed gasp, nodded appreciatively, and broke into a sprint.
Of course.
The inexplicable ripple in her trailing shadow as she ran was surely just her imagination.
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