Chapter 92
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 92
Chapter Title: A Brief Rest (1)
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"He's my man."
The people gathered right in front of Kiyosu Castle couldn't help but doubt their eyes and ears for a moment. Nobunaga's declaration—no, confession—was just that sudden and shocking. Even those who had spent long years in politics couldn't hide their surprise.
However, Hirate Masahide was different.
"Greetings, my lord."
The man with a dignified presence like a mountain, yet carrying himself more like a cool-headed scholar than a warrior, spoke first. Those nearby belatedly bowed their heads almost instinctively.
It wasn't strange at all.
Hirate Masahide.
He was a senior retainer from the previous generation and the most influential vassal under the current Oda Nobunaga regime. And Baek Il-yeong—Hirate Hikage—who had just been chosen as the daimyo's husband was none other than his adopted son.
In other words, failing to bow now meant not only defying the daimyo but also clashing with the unprecedentedly powerful family of the lord's consort. Without anyone needing to prompt first, they all bowed their heads.
"Greetings, my lord!"
Of course, not everyone offered their blessings wholeheartedly.
"...Greetings, my lord."
Some smiled as if to say it was bound to happen, while others shouted reluctantly, laced with envy, jealousy, or contempt.
"...Huh?"
But Itsuki rolled his eyes and thought.
Probably, the ones hit hardest were the countless women smitten with Il-yeong—
"... ."
Mori Yoshinari was handling it rather well.
She had apparently already spoken with Nobunaga, so though a bit flustered, she showed no major agitation.
But Oda Nobuyuki and Shibata Katsuie were frozen solid, and even Akechi Mitsuhide couldn't hide her bewilderment.
Itsuki scanned the surroundings with the sharper intuition he'd gained over the past year and thought.
'Maybe... .'
That joke from before about a two-digit number of wives might actually come true. For some reason, he was genuinely terrified.
But then.
"Waaaaah!"
A sudden cheer erupted from the crowd, making Itsuki and the others turn their heads.
"That's our daimyo! Bold as ever!"
"Long live the Oda Clan!"
What did the common folk know?
To them, the scene was simply a rare glimpse into the love lives of nobles—a truly exotic spectacle. What started as a mischievous shout quickly swept the crowd into an uncontrollable frenzy.
"What's going on?"
"Beats me... ."
The murmurs spread like wildfire, drawing in even those who hadn't joined the welcome or were off doing their own thing, all shambling over out of curiosity. As attention focused more intensely, Il-yeong urgently shot Nobunaga a pleading glance, practically ventriloquizing his plea.
"...Whatever it is, rein it in, my lord."
"Hm. Not a bad cheer."
Unlike Il-yeong, who aged a year every minute, Nobunaga seemed to savor the moment, her cheeks faintly flushed. But agreeing they couldn't stand there forever, she cleared her throat with a dignified "Ahem" and parted her vividly red lips.
"Alright, let's head in."
With no forces left in Owari to oppose her, her command was absolute. Savoring the sentiment fully, she strode toward Kiyosu Castle with majestic steps.
Of course, their departure didn't erase the impact of what everyone had witnessed.
"Whoa, so an heir's coming soon?"
"Makes sense... . Where else are you gonna find a guy like that? Anyone would want him."
"Nonsense! Our young miss—no, our lord—is too good for him!"
They lingered, chatting away. No doubt, this would be the hottest gossip in Owari for a good while.
"... ."
And at that moment.
Amid the commoners, a man casually chewing grass scratched his belly, replaying the events, then slipped into an alley.
Between the tangled houses stood a crumbling wall that looked ready to collapse any second. Before slipping his hand into a gap at its base, he checked his surroundings.
No signs of life.
Confirming that, he reached in, pulled out a small cage with a carrier pigeon inside, tucked the cage away, wrote a note, and tied it to the bird's leg. Once done, his face shed its idler look as he gently stroked the pigeon's head and said.
"Off you go."
—Gururu.
As if understanding the quiet whisper, the pigeon shook its bedraggled feathers and soared into the sky.
That was when it happened.
"Hey? What're you doing, mister?"
A childish voice suddenly piped up from behind.
The man turned slowly, spotting a boy clutching a small pipe in his tiny hand.
"... ."
The man scanned around.
No signs of life earlier, but now he saw the boy had come from a house at the alley's edge.
"Kid."
The man approached with a kind smile.
Peeking through the cracked door, he saw only an old woman lying inside, felled by illness.
"You hungry?"
The man—no, the ninja—drew near the boy, who looked up blankly, still smiling warmly.
"Y-yeah, I am hun... ."
The moment the boy opened his mouth to answer.
Shing.
A tantō drawn from his bosom plunged swiftly into the boy's nape, and the ninja dragged him inside the house.
Pfshk, pfook!
Short, muffled sounds of flesh tearing rang out.
Soon, with a creak, the door opened. The man tossed the bloodied clothes roughly inside and stared in the direction the pigeon had flown.
"Fly safe."
He'd killed the boy and the grandmother, yet muttered without a flicker of emotion, pulling flint from his bosom as he thought.
Blood's scent lingers annoyingly.
Ignorant peasants might miss it, but samurai would notice quick.
Regrettable, but too risky to stay in Kiyosu. Time to hole up in the forest hideout for a while.
Tak, tak.
—Fwoosh!
With that thought, he lit the fire, then vaulted the wall in the direction the pigeon had gone.
He was heading straight into Imagawa territory.
*
Right after a brief private audience with Nobunaga.
She ordered Il-yeong to head to the main house, saying they'd discuss details later. Naturally, he accepted.
Distributing rewards could wait, and Nobuyuki's retainers would need days to even meet Nobunaga anyway.
'A kind of breaking in.'
Even if they submitted now, no guarantee they wouldn't rebel again. Better to stamp the lesson deep while crushing them this time.
...That rebellion would bring only blood next time. As Il-yeong crossed the Hirate family threshold with those thoughts.
"You're here."
Still a low, resonant voice.
But unlike before, it carried a subtle warmth, making him look up. There stood Hirate Masahide and the others welcoming him.
"Greetings, my lord."
Il-yeong knelt on one knee as he spoke.
At the same time, the Hirate samurai following him knelt and bowed to Masahide, shouting.
—Greetings, my lord!
Their voices rang with solid trust, and Hirate Masahide—rarely—curled his lips in a smile to greet them. And then.
Pat pat.
A small figure dashed forward with quick yet elegantly poised steps, right in front of Il-yeong on one knee.
"Rise."
"Uemon?"
Hearing the voice, Il-yeong immediately knew who it was.
Neat black bob haircut.
Kimono and expressionless face.
Everything pointed to his foster sister, Hirate Uemon. Just that after a year, her face seemed a touch more mature than their first meeting, standing out sharply.
Il-yeong gave a fond smile to the girl who sweetly called him big brother and said.
"Thanks."
"Heh."
Pleased by his foster siblings' exchange, perhaps.
Hirate Masahide chuckled heartily before continuing.
"Much to say, but for now, this."
He stepped forward and said.
"You did well."
"You did well"—simple and curt at first glance, but Il-yeong wasn't dull enough to miss the sincerity. He nodded and replied.
"Thanks to your trust."
"Ahem."
Perhaps Il-yeong's response embarrassed him a bit.
Hirate Masahide coughed dryly, turned casually, and said.
"Come in, then. Meal's ready."
Even after the brief audience with Nobunaga, the sun was high. Famished, Il-yeong nodded and followed.
"Big brother."
But then. As Hirate Masahide stepped ahead and Il-yeong was about to move.
A soft voice from Uemon caught his ankle.
He turned.
Uemon's face, barely reaching his waist, came into view.
"What is it?"
He replied with a gentle smile.
She might be a bit curt, but that didn't make the child any less endearing.
Wonder what she'll say.
Sharp as ever, she might offer advice on the war or Masahide.
Not just Il-yeong thought so; the samurai eyed the small, clever girl expectantly too.
"...I'm glad."
Her lips moved.
As Il-yeong leaned in to hear better.
"I'm glad you're not hurt... I-it's a relief, b-big brother."
Uemon said that, then spun away. Before Il-yeong could reply, she hurried off. Everyone, including him, stared blankly after her.
And rightly so—that was Uemon, usually so cool, showing a rare "age-appropriate cuteness."
"Itsuki."
"Yes."
After watching Uemon's spot a moment, Il-yeong called to his loyal retainer beside him. Itsuki, still gazing that way, answered. Il-yeong said earnestly.
"When Uemon brings home a suitor later, sparing his life if he's no good is the way, right?"
"Absolutely. Anyone but her deserves extermination of three generations."
Indeed.
Il-yeong thought.
...This is the joy of raising a little sister.
And at the same time, he felt it.
That a brief time to rest had finally returned.