Chapter 72
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 72
Chapter Title: The Reason for Covering the Face
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—Snap!
The wooden sword held up surprisingly well against the real blade. Sword duels often involved blades clashing edge to edge, but just as frequently, it was the handguards slamming together.
Precisely speaking.
"Hup!"
When the handguards met—known as the tsuba—they vied to crush each other's grip. And it didn't end there; arms and bodies collided in a fierce melee.
—Thwack!
Shibata Katsuie's sword dug into Baek Il-yeong's wooden blade. Tiny splinters flew, grazing his cheek. At the sight, Katsuie shouted through her exposed lower face, her voice nearly splitting.
"I'll shove my sword in too!"
There was nothing else to say. That was all she had. But Il-yeong refused to allow it, pressing her madly in response.
"No!"
"Why!"
Their clashes continued endlessly.
Striking, slashing, uppercutting, thrusting.
Life and death teetered countless times, their breaths growing ever rougher.
—Boom!
—Scrape!
In an instant, their handguards grazed each other, the armor encasing them shuddering simultaneously. The difference was that Il-yeong's leather-wrapped guard was sliced, while hers merely took the impact.
Thus, Katsuie's expression hardened further. It wasn't just about fairness; she truly didn't want to cut Il-yeong.
Seizing the opening, she tried to pull her sword back. But Il-yeong wasn't one to let that happen.
"Hah!"
With a short breath, he lunged at her as she moved to sheath her blade. Gripping his wooden sword high and slashing down, his strike clearly aimed to cleave her skull. Biting her lip, she had no choice but to block.
"Why in the world...!"
Why was he doing this?
She couldn't fathom it, frustration boiling over. She even wondered if Il-yeong just wanted to beat her senseless.
But in that moment.
Il-yeong struck her thigh as she kept demanding answers.
"Didn't you beat me quite enjoyably back then!"
Even with his handguard sliced, Il-yeong wore a grin. Katsuie stared at him in disbelief and cried out.
"That's your reason now...!"
Did this man have no sense at all? This was life or death. And he was dragging up some old sparring grudge?
From her perspective, his words made no sense. But then Il-yeong's wooden sword swept upward from below, smashing her wrist.
"Gah!"
The sharp pain nearly made her drop her sword. Without hesitation, Il-yeong wedged his shoulder into the gap, shoving her body backward.
—Wobble!
Her body tilted. But her trained thighs steadied her in an instant, instinctively swinging her sword at Il-yeong. Yet in that moment.
Locking eyes with the onrushing Il-yeong, Katsuie froze—because her swing's path led straight to his throat.
'To cut...!'
It was too precious a general to lose. Far too valuable to die in some clan squabble...
'Oh no!'
Her thoughts dragged on. It was merely a split second, but in swordplay, such tiny gaps decided everything. And Il-yeong didn't hesitate.
—Thud!
A dull sound rang out.
Il-yeong's wooden sword struck Katsuie's mask dead-on. She saw a flash burst before her eyes and toppled backward.
"Milady...!"
Her watching samurai drew their blades toward Il-yeong—but.
"Stand down."
"......"
Itsuki and Akechi Mitsuhide had swords at her throat almost simultaneously, subduing her retainers without a fight.
Lips bitten in fury, she glared at Il-yeong. But he merely looked down at her now-bisected mask with an awkward smile.
"...Uh, was that a bit much?"
He hadn't meant to shatter the mask clean in two. Glancing down with that thought, Il-yeong froze.
And that was because...
"...Nngh."
Fragments of the broken mask slid down her slowly rising body and clattered to the ground with a thud. Her samurai whipped their heads away in haste.
Seeing her face meant death—or so the rumor went. But really, it was just because their lady didn't wish it.
Il-yeong, staring down at her directly, had no choice but to see.
"—W-wait."
Realizing too late that her face was exposed, Katsuie scrambled to cover it. But it was far too late. Il-yeong gazed at her face with slightly dazed eyes.
...If the lower face is pretty, she's a beauty.
He'd said it half in jest before. But now, he realized he'd spoken the truth without thinking—and smiled.
Golden hair reaching her waist brushed the frozen ground. Her forehead, reddened from his blow, stood out prominently, and her golden eyes shook wildly as her face flushed crimson.
And most strikingly, the long scar running from beneath her eye across the bridge of her nose. Straight as if deliberately drawn, it sat in an awkward spot. Yet it couldn't hide her beauty.
"D-don't look!"
She covered her face desperately. But it was pointless—her features were already seared into Il-yeong's eyes.
"Huh."
Il-yeong smiled and lowered his sword. Then he sat on the ground and draped his own mask over her lower face as she frantically tried to hide.
"...Ah."
It covered her nose too, so he whispered to her, eyes now glistening with tears as she stared at him.
"The scar's fully covered now."
"...S-still!"
The fierce general from moments ago was gone. She trembled, terrified the scar might show. Feeling a pang of guilt for some reason, Il-yeong gave a wry smile.
"Sorry."
"...It's u-ugly. Like this!"
She squeezed shut her golden eyes—which gleamed with a light different from Oda Nobunaga's—and cried out. Only then did Il-yeong realize that scar was a trauma beyond compare for Shibata Katsuie.
In truth, many questioned why she wore the mask. Some said she was hideous beneath it; others, that she enjoyed terrifying foes.
—All nonsense.
She was simply a sensitive woman who loathed her own scar. So Il-yeong watched as she tearfully tugged the mask up to cover it, then finally spoke.
"I've got plenty of scars myself."
Of course, none marred his face. But in these chaotic times, who knew when one might appear. With that thought, Il-yeong undid the straps of his upper armor. It clanged heavily to the ground, and without pause, he pulled up his shirt to reveal the scar across his belly.
"...M-my lord."
Not just his belly—his abdomen and chest were riddled with scars. Even Shibata Katsuie, veteran of countless battlefields, was stunned for a moment.
As her shocked eyes wavered, Il-yeong gently tugged the mask up over her lower face and said,
"For a warrior, scars aren't something to hide—they're to be proud of. I'd be the one ashamed of a warrior without them."
"Such..."
"And honestly, I can't for the life of me figure out why you'd cover up like this."
He let go, and his shirt slid down with a soft rustle, draping over his abdomen. Meeting her gaze—now endlessly vulnerable with her face bared—Il-yeong whispered as gently as he could.
"Even with the scar, you're breathtakingly beautiful. Charming, even."
—Thump.
Her heart pounded.
The mad, unprecedented fluttering made Katsuie's face burn. Her vision blurred.
Extreme stress from her face being exposed.
The unidentified emotion Il-yeong stirred in her.
And the accumulated fatigue of battle.
The sudden onslaught of harsh conditions clouded her mind. She blinked hard to clear it—and her consciousness snapped.
—Flop.
"K-Katsuie?!"
Her body slumped toward Il-yeong. Fearing she might be dead, he hurriedly checked her pulse—thankfully, she was still breathing.
Assessing the situation briefly, he turned to Niwa Nagahide standing behind him and said,
"Shibata Katsuie's subdued. Neutralize her forces, then prepare to march on Suemori."
However it had gone down, it was Il-yeong's victory.
...A bit strange, though.