Chapter 82
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 82
Chapter Title: Unexpectedly
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It's too dangerous a delusion.
Having heard Il-yeong's words, they could only sincerely think that.
In any case, the Emperor is merely a symbol.
Be it regent or shogun, one of them is always at the pinnacle of power. Why else would Toyotomi Hideyoshi, who couldn't become shogun due to his lowly origins, settle for regent instead? Of course, that's a story that vanished from their timeline.
"...Hmm."
Dota Gozen held her tongue for a moment at Il-yeong's words. She was probably frantically calculating how to respond.
If Oda Nobunaga had said it, the shock wouldn't have been so great. But since it came from Il-yeong, they had no choice but to rack their brains to discern his true intentions.
Nobuyuki stared at Il-yeong with complicated eyes, as if unable to fathom what he was thinking. And rightly so—for twisting those words just a little...
'I intend to surpass my lord and stand above all others.'
...couldn't they be interpreted as an declaration of rebellion?
One might call it a leap, but it would be stranger not to think that way.
Il-yeong. Or rather, Hirate Hikage.
Whether he realized it himself or not, if you asked who was making the biggest mark in Owari right now, most would point to him.
And wasn't that only natural?
Starting as a low-rank samurai, he became the adopted son of the Hirate family. How many enemy samurai has he slain in battle, and what feats has he achieved? Moreover, his striking looks and the refined aura he exudes make it harder to find someone who dislikes him.
In short, Il-yeong was currently the most promising talent to emerge in Owari. Even the one flaw—his origins—had been largely covered by his adoption into the Hirate family.
—A capable retainer.
The phrase that already terrified lords became even more fearsome in these chaotic times.
...To the point where blood brothers raised together drew swords on each other and took lives. Fathers ordered sons to commit seppuku, sons poisoned fathers, brothers strangled brothers, and wives assassinated husbands.
In such chaotic times, a capable subordinate was a variable that threatened one's position in itself. Especially if that retainer harbored ambitions.
For a split second, Dota Gozen's dark eyes flashed with insight. Having spent her life with a man brimming with ambition, she could sense it: Il-yeong's ambitions were far from light.
"Of course."
As one might expect, Il-yeong wasn't a fool; he knew exactly what they were thinking. So he added,
"I'm a retainer of the former Lady Nobunaga to the end. At the same time..."
Truth be told, it was quite unexpected for him. He'd thought the rumors had spread, but Dota Gozen seemed unaware.
"...I'm also Lady Nobunaga's lover."
"...Ah."
Only then did Nobuyuki realize why Il-yeong had brought it up, glancing cautiously at Dota Gozen. A strange bitterness lingered in her mouth, but she didn't let it show.
Meanwhile, Dota Gozen's expression was quite the sight.
"...Er, um. I see."
What Il-yeong had overlooked was this: while it was common knowledge that Oda Nobunaga, Il-yeong, and Mori Yoshinari were involved in such matters, no retainer had bothered to inform Dota Gozen.
Nobuyuki had assumed her mother knew, and the retainers saw no reason to tell her.
Thanks to that, Dota Gozen—suddenly faced with her daughter's lover—froze, her composure crumbling as she struggled for a response. Naturally, Il-yeong was quite flustered too.
'An accidental formal meeting...?'
He hadn't intended to bring this up as the main topic. Il-yeong awkwardly scratched his cheek, then added to her, who couldn't find words,
"...So, what I mean is."
"For now."
But his words were cut short.
Dota Gozen nodded as if she grasped the gist and spoke.
"In the end, you're saying we should unite the divided clan, so no long talk is needed. I'll discuss it with the daimyo."
The daimyo she referred to was Nobuyuki, not Nobunaga. In other words, a silent request for Il-yeong to leave.
Il-yeong couldn't miss that, so he soon bowed lightly, rose, and exited the secret chamber.
—Creak. Click!
Once Il-yeong was gone, Nobuyuki felt the tea in her cup before her had cooled slightly and cautiously gauged Dota Gozen's mood.
Silence flowed.
It was familiar to the mother and daughter, but always uncomfortable for Nobuyuki.
—Slurp.
Then, Dota Gozen took a sip of tea with her characteristically elegant touch and looked at Nobuyuki.
"What do you think of that man Hikage, my lady daimyo?"
"Hmm."
Faced with her mother's question, Nobuyuki pondered briefly, then tried to come up with an answer she'd like.
...Not something arrogant like dismissing him or throwing him out.
Habitually, trained to always appear composed and at leisure, she parted her lips with that in mind—only to hesitate.
Was that truly right?
Well. Was it?
As Nobuyuki wavered, Dota Gozen's silent gaze brushed her cheek. After fidgeting with her lips for a moment, she finally answered.
"...I."
*
Stepping outside, Il-yeong drew the eyes of the samurai standing guard in the silent streets.
Yet despite their venomous glares, none dared approach him easily. And rightly so—who would a yaksha and court death? Even if they won, it would be disobedience to orders, leaving them no choice.
Thanks to that, Il-yeong strode boldly through the heart of the enemy camp and safely entered his assigned quarters.
Fortunately, nothing had happened while he'd been talking; Shibata Katsuie and his escorts were all safe. Il-yeong gave them a light smile in greeting and said,
"Alright, rest up for now."
Of course, resting in the middle of an enemy camp was inherently risky, but for some reason, his words inspired trust. So Itsuki promptly assigned minimal guards and led Il-yeong to the largest room.
Time sometimes flows quickly.
They felt it too.
After finishing the evening meal sent by Nobuyuki's side and briefly sorting his thoughts in the cool breeze, night had fallen.
—Whoosh!
Fires lit up the quarters to pierce the night, and the escorts buttoned their clothes against the still-chilly night air, vigilant in all directions.
And rightly so.
Night meant worrying about night raids.
"Urgh."
Yet Il-yeong lightly adjusted his thin garb, gripped Onimaru, and stepped onto the veranda. He slipped on shoes and headed to the relatively quiet rear of the quarters.
—Rustle, rustle.
The sand kicked up by his steps made a pleasing sound. Standing in the center behind the quarters, Il-yeong soon drew his sword.
—Shing.
Thanks to diligent maintenance, the keen edge gleamed silver under the moonlight. Gazing at it contentedly for a moment, he slowly thrust the blade forward.
Il-yeong's swordsmanship was quite unique.
Since his blade's original owner was from Joseon, it incorporated Joseon styles, but to better utilize Kanta's structure, it blended Japanese ones too.
Of course, it wasn't that he consciously knew and combined them; his body had simply forged the path. But by now, Il-yeong was gradually understanding it.
Thrust the sword, smoothly retract, and slash.
Many think swordsmanship is just about slashing and tearing, but that's half right and half wrong.
Swordsmanship is, ultimately, the martial art of killing opponents.
So why limit yourself to the blade?
Sometimes shove with the shoulder.
Trip the leg, strike the wrist to disarm.
Martial techniques naturally wove into the swordplay, and Il-yeong was acquiring them ever faster. How long had he been swinging under the moonlight alone?
—Step.
Suddenly, beyond his sweat-slicked cheek, a presence brushed past. Turning toward it, Il-yeong soon lowered his sword upon seeing her.
Then, wiping sweat with the back of his hand, he smiled lightly and murmured her name.
"What brings you here, Lady Shibata?"
It was none other than Shibata Katsuie who had come to find him.
"My apologies. Were you training?"
She bowed slightly, as if aware of her blunder. To those who wield the sword, one's forms are life itself—peeking at practice was a grave discourtesy.
But Il-yeong shook his head.
"It's fine. But what is it?"
"...I couldn't sleep, so I thought to get some air. But this was the only place worth strolling."