Chapter 74
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 74
Chapter Title: Suemori Castle (1)
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Suemori Castle.
Passing by the village homes, two men stood beneath the outer wall of the main keep where the castle lord resided, rubbing their chilled hands to warm them inside their loose-fitting garments.
"Haa."
"Why the sudden sigh?"
At that moment, the man standing beside the ashigaru, who wore a black hood pulled low, scowled and asked. But the one who had sighed paid no mind and instead replied in a voice laced with irritation.
"Isn't it obvious?"
"What is?"
"If we lose this clan skirmish, we're all dead meat for sure. Doesn't that worry you at all?"
Clan conflicts were especially brutal. They often arose over legitimacy or succession, so those on the losing side were mostly slaughtered.
For these men, it felt like an unjust fate.
He himself had been conscripted out of nowhere while just tending his fields. He spat on the ground and muttered.
"Even that general Shibata Katsuie. They call him 'Oni,' but can he really beat a yasha...?"
"Yasha Hikage"
Rumors swirled that, on a rainy night in the forest depths, she had single-handedly cut down hundreds of Mino samurai. Of course, the tales had grown wildly exaggerated through retellings, but the fact that there was some truth to it was what made it amusing.
Yet the two men, unaware of the reality, simply chatted on.
"Shibata-sama's different, you fool. You just haven't seen him."
"What?"
The ashigaru who chided him grinned. Baring his yellowed teeth, he said,
"Shibata Katsuie-sama is invincible. I vouch for it—I fought alongside him on the battlefield. Yasha Hikage? That bitch croaked back in Ino before she even got here."
His words carried utter conviction.
At the same time, he spewed all sorts of nonsense to his cackling comrade: that beneath that mask was surely some stunning beauty, that he'd love to bed her someday...
"So, my cock between those firm thighs of hers..."
Perhaps getting carried away mid-sentence, he even mimed thrusting his hips while laughing uproariously. And in that instant.
"Kuhaha... Huh?"
The ashigaru who had been giggling along and trading vulgarities suddenly pointed casually behind them, eyes widening. And then.
"Can't stomach listening to this filth."
A man's irritated voice rang out. At the same time, following the smooth arc of a drawn blade—swish—the ashigaru's head tumbled to the ground.
"Y-Yasu—!"
Realizing too late, he frantically groped for his signaling whistle. But in the split second he ducked his head, the man in black night garb had already thrust his sword into his chest.
—Squish!
Blood soaked his chest. And soon, the man—no, Il-yeong—leaned close to the dying ashigaru's ear as he let out a faint groan and whispered softly.
"You just shat from your mouths. Why? Because you got everything wrong."
He pressed the blade deeper into the chest. The final throes made the man's heart pound wildly against the sword, the vibrations traveling up Il-yeong's arm.
"S-Spare..."
Even as he instinctively sensed death closing in from the pierced heart, he clawed at Il-yeong's back, desperately clinging to life. But Il-yeong replied in that same irritated tone.
"First. I didn't die in Ino."
The ashigaru's eyes widened as if torn open.
"Second. Shibata Katsuie won't get bedded by vermin like you."
With that, Il-yeong twisted and yanked the sword free. Squish—blood spurted out, and he whispered mockingly to the collapsing man.
"You got one thing right, though."
The ashigaru's eyes slowly closed.
Through his blurring vision, Il-yeong said,
"She's a beauty. Far beyond what trash like you could ever touch."
With those words, Il-yeong left the corpses behind and scaled the rear wall of Suemori Castle.
Once over, fortunately no guards came into view. As he let out a breath of relief, Akechi Mitsuhide spoke softly to Il-yeong, who walked ahead.
"...There was no need to kill them."
Il-yeong's steps halted at that.
He turned, fixing Akechi Mitsuhide with a steady gaze, and said,
"Akechi Mitsuhide."
"...Yes."
—Step.
Il-yeong's footfalls stopped before her. His cold eyes raked over her. Her face, watching him anxiously, came into view.
'This woman.'
The one who would one day burn Oda Nobunaga alive at Honno-ji?
Hard to believe, even knowing people's hearts were unknowable. But people changed, after all. Just as he himself had.
Thus, Il-yeong said,
"I won't spout nonsense about sacrificing the few for the many. I kill because it's necessary."
He clenched his fist to still his trembling hand. Then, turning his back on the silent Akechi Mitsuhide, he resumed walking without a word. Itsuki glanced briefly at her before following Il-yeong.
Having nothing to say.
'...Necessary.'
Akechi Mitsuhide stared at Il-yeong's back. Even clad in black night garb, his broad shoulders stood out starkly.
She thought,
Maybe he was right. She just didn't want to admit it.
—Crunch.
She hurried after Il-yeong and Itsuki. Pulling her face-covering mask a bit higher, she mulled over his words with conflicted eyes.
'Someday, me too.'
Would she one day kill without hesitation, deeming it necessary? Impossible to know. So today, too, she could only ponder Il-yeong.
...For some reason, she was curious.
Why he had changed so, why he reminded her of Saito Dosan's younger days.
His silhouette reflected in her silver-pink eyes. At the same time, it etched the man named Il-yeong more deeply into her mind.
*
"Halt."
At Il-yeong's quiet voice, Itsuki and Akechi Mitsuhide stopped behind him. Il-yeong peered from the gap between the front hall and the wall, spotting two samurai chatting idly.
'Guards at the outer entrance.'
They relied on the braziers lighting the night for their talk. He wanted to slip past without confrontation, but they blocked the direct path to his goal—no way around it.
'Fortunately, no other presences.'
Shadows and footsteps.
Neither of the two signs of guards registered. Thus, Il-yeong pointed at them with a finger, signaling to subdue them.
He spread three fingers.
Folding them one by one, until his fist was fully clenched.
—Whoosh!
The three burst from the gap in unison. By the time the men turned at the sound, swords were already drawn and pressed to their throats.
"Ah—."
Their mouths worked silently.
Il-yeong, at the fore, nicked the lead samurai's nape while raising a finger to his lips.
Speak, and die.
The samurai nodded in understanding. Satisfied, Il-yeong signaled Akechi Mitsuhide to take their swords. With blades at their throats, they could only comply helplessly.
Disarmament in seconds.
Pinned against the wall out of sight, Il-yeong whispered to them very softly.
"I have questions. Answer properly, and you live. Botch it, and you die."
He pressed lightly on his blade, drawing more blood. To the men nodding frantically, he posed his query.
"Where is Lady Nobuyuki?"
Their eyes flickered. One samurai soon steeled himself and opened his mouth.
—Nod.
Il-yeong nodded back, and Itsuki instantly slashed the throat of the man he held.
—Gurgle.
The body crumpled, drowning in its own blood. Il-yeong eyed the remaining samurai decisively.
—Gulp.
Swallowing hard, his Adam's apple bobbed against the blade, drawing blood. Realizing his life hung by a thread, he spoke in resignation.
"...In the central courtyard on the outer grounds, drinking alone."
"Alone?"
The confessing samurai nodded. Il-yeong replied,
"Direction."
He slowly raised a hand, pointing left. Il-yeong nodded in satisfaction, and as the samurai exhaled in relief at survival—
"Can't let a loose-lipped one go free."
"...What?"
—Slice.
Il-yeong slid the blade smoothly across. A long red line welled up along the path. Realizing too late his throat was cut, the samurai's eyes bulged as his mouth gaped wordlessly—his severed vocal cords allowed no sound.
Suddenly, something hot splashed his cheek.
—Wipe.
Il-yeong realized it was the man's blood and wiped it on his black sleeve. He brushed past Akechi Mitsuhide's dazed stare and ordered Itsuki,
"Clear the bodies. Then straight to the lady."