Chapter 93
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 93
Chapter Title: A Brief Rest (2)
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Hirate Masahide's prepared meal was quite satisfying. Japan still clung to its patriarchal culture, so Hirate Masahide picked up his chopsticks first, allowing Il-yeong to eat comfortably. In the spacious room, the two men began their meal in silence.
How much time had passed with only the clinking of bowls and chopsticks echoing through the room? Halfway through his meal, Hirate Masahide spoke to Il-yeong.
"So, when did you win the Lord's heart?"
"Pardon? Ah."
Come to think of it, Il-yeong had never directly revealed his relationship with Nobunaga to Hirate Masahide. Even so, the man brushed it off as if he'd half-expected it, despite what must have been some inner surprise. The reason was simple enough.
"Rumors have circulated before. Though I knew you were also close to Lady Mori..."
"Well, yes..."
He couldn't deny it.
Still, Il-yeong could only manage an awkward smile, unsure how Hirate Masahide—a man willing to commit seppuku for his lord—might view it.
What if he takes it the wrong way?
Il-yeong inwardly fretted like that, wondering how things had come to this.
No matter how he looked at it, he hadn't done anything wrong.
...Had he?
Il-yeong waffled between self-reflection and hypocrisy, while Hirate Masahide watched him with an incredulous chuckle.
"Enough. It's only natural for the talented to draw people to them—that's the way of the world."
The renowned figures of the era always had beauties trailing them, along with honor and wealth. The key was simply not to become consumed by it.
—Clack.
"But don't let it consume you. As you well know."
Hirate Masahide set down his rice bowl lightly and emphasized the point. For some reason, the fatherly advice made Il-yeong smile and respond lightly.
"Yes, Father."
"Good."
Their conversation ended there, shifting to brief political talk afterward. Il-yeong nodded as he received updates on the current situations in Mino and with the Imagawa forces, then headed to his quarters.
Hirate Masahide didn't drag out the discussion. It was his own form of consideration.
"Ah, Young Master."
"You've worked hard."
Il-yeong smiled at the Hirate household maids he passed on the way to his room. It had been quite some time since his last visit, and already Itsuki and Akechi Mitsuhide led a group of Hirate samurai waiting there.
"Young Master."
As he arrived, the samurai moved to kneel and greet him, but Il-yeong waved them off lightly.
"Everyone, take a break."
"Pardon?"
His order was certainly welcome but came a bit out of nowhere. These were practically all the men who followed him—without them resting, who would attend him?
"Everyone except Itsuki, go see your families. Just be back before evening."
But Il-yeong was serious in his own way.
Honestly, how many battlefields had they roamed lately? Most of these men had followed him through every one.
'And right now, it's arguably the safest time.'
Mino was still busy sorting out its internal mess, and the Imagawa side was occupied refining the Hojo-Takeda-Imagawa alliance.
In other words, neither had the bandwidth to focus heavily on Owari just yet.
What about within Owari itself?
No need to ask—Oda Nobuyuki's faction would be wrapped up in a matter of days, and Nobunaga's own heavy retainers were sure to lay low for now.
There had been that prior warning, too. Launching an assassination now would be like putting the entire clan—and everyone involved—at risk in a high-stakes gamble with slim odds of success...
Would any retainer with that kind of guts even be left?
'It'd be better if there were.'
Il-yeong saw off the samurai departing on their sudden leave with a smile, inwardly hoping as much. If so, he could just kill them all himself.
His eyes showed no mirth as he thought it. Itsuki, catching that expression, spoke up with a hint of fear.
"What are you plotting now?"
"Hm? Nothing. Just..."
For a moment, he considered telling Itsuki his thoughts, but shook his head instead.
Il-yeong smirked at the now-empty front courtyard of the residence.
"They seemed happy, huh?"
"How could they not be? They all know things will get even tougher after this break."
Il-yeong nodded inwardly at Itsuki's grumbled words. He was right—Owari as it stood could never be truly quiet or peaceful.
Not just Mino and Imagawa, but countless daimyo across the islands, all vying to reach as far as Kyoto, were busy building their strength and sharpening their blades against one another.
'But that's... for later.'
When it was time to rest, one should rest.
Il-yeong looked at Itsuki, who had stayed without complaint, and said,
"Itsuki."
"Yes, my lord."
"Shall we have a drink?"
If he said no, Il-yeong figured he'd just sleep. But Itsuki, as if he'd been waiting for it, grinned and replied,
"Sounds good. I'll have it brought."
"Do that."
—Whoosh.
A breeze blew in just then, brushing Il-yeong's cheek.
The weather was finally loosening up completely, heralding the approach of battle—but for this moment, he just wanted to drink without a care.
And soon, the two men raised their cups.
*
"...Ugh."
The sun that had brightly lit the land had vanished, replaced by a silver moon high in the sky. Itsuki lay sprawled on the veranda, trembling like he was on death's door.
It was an irreverent sight before his lord, but Il-yeong, standing before him, merely scratched his head. Just then, Akechi Mitsuhide—who had gone to meet Nohime, or Kicho—approached cautiously and asked Il-yeong,
"How much did you drink?"
"Who knows..."
No matter how he thought about it, they hadn't drunk enough for this level of collapse. Il-yeong glanced at the scattered bottles and shrugged slightly.
"Guess Itsuki's weak with liquor."
Akechi Mitsuhide looked queasy as she counted the bottles—easily over twenty. Il-yeong wasn't entirely sober himself.
"Hah."
He might not have noticed, but his face was flushed, giving off a somewhat defenseless air.
"Ah, hot."
Il-yeong muttered and scratched his nape. Akechi Mitsuhide instinctively turned her head away.
"You should turn in. I'll take care of Lord Itsuki."
"Oh? Ah... yeah."
At her words, Il-yeong licked his lips regretfully but nodded, admitting to himself that he was a bit drunk. With permission granted, Akechi Mitsuhide pointed at the fallen Itsuki and ordered the samurai behind her.
"Take him."
"Yes!"
The Hirate samurai hoisted Itsuki up, and the man—now somewhat revived—shouted,
"Hic! Y-Young Master. Sleep we—urgh."
"Yeah, yeah."
Il-yeong chuckled.
He clearly wasn't in any normal state.
"Then."
Akechi Mitsuhide bowed to Il-yeong and led Itsuki away. Soon, maids arrived to swiftly clear the trays from the veranda. Some cast odd glances at the half-drunk, unguarded Il-yeong, but he merely leaned against the wall like a layabout, gazing at the sky.
"Haa—."
Breathing out and in brought the scent of alcohol.
Did I drink more than I thought? Along with that realization, the many tasks ahead intruded on his rest.
The immediate one was Okehazama.
But arguably more important was the Matsudaira clan.
There was Matsudaira Motoyasu.
The future Tokugawa Ieyasu, who would swallow the land and open the Edo Shogunate.
'She's a woman right now.'
When he'd asked Nobunaga before, she'd called her an old childhood friend. Probably from when Mikawa Province—the Matsudaira lands—had sent her as a hostage.
"Guess I need to meet her first."
No matter how he sliced it, Tokugawa was talent he couldn't pass up. She might have ambitions, but since she hadn't revealed them before Nobunaga's death, maybe she could be managed.
Il-yeong closed his eyes, then opened them. And in that instant—
"Who are you meeting?"
A soft voice right by his ear.
Reacting instinctively, Il-yeong whipped his head around—and his vision filled with gray hair. He opened his mouth.
"Mori..."
But his words couldn't continue.
—Mmph.
Red lips soon pressed against his.