Yashiro the Blind

Then came a series of arrows, each one killing an Oda general dressed in fine clothes. In an instant, the dozen or so arrows in the quiver were all fired, and just then, a "snap" came from his hand as the bowstring snapped under the strain.

He shook his aching wrist, threw his longbow and quiver to the ground, and suddenly shouted, "Oda Kazusa-suke is dead! Lay down your weapons and surrender or you will be spared!" His powerful voice carried far even in the torrential rain. The other retainers finally reacted and joined in, shouting, "Oda Nobunaga is dead!"

"Put down your weapons and surrender without killing!"

Looking down, the Oda soldiers fighting at the foot of the mountain visibly hesitated, while the Imagawa side's morale soared. For a moment, the previously one-sided defeat seemed to be turning around. But just as these generals were preparing to strike while the iron was hot and launch a counterattack, they saw Yoshimoto decisively turn around and leave.

"My...my lord?"

"What are you all standing there for? Let's go!"

Yoshimoto spoke coldly, his heart filled with anger. The situation was completely unclear. They didn't know how Oda's army had attacked, nor how many enemies there were. With the enemy in the dark and them in the light, rashly engaging in battle could easily lead to unexpected consequences.

Furthermore, even in a fleeting glance, he could clearly see that these attacking Oda soldiers were not organized; they fought in small groups, somewhat resembling mountain bandits. Given this tactic, even if he killed their general, or even actually took Oda Nobunaga's head, the other soldiers might not immediately collapse and retreat.

A pointless war is a pointless war.

"retreat!"

Without the slightest hesitation, the Eight Dragons' Helmet flashed faintly in the wind and rain before disappearing into the distance.

……

Swords flashing, white rain and black wind.

In a lush forest, a magnificent blue steed gallops through the rain.

Not only was the horse a fine horse, but its tack was also extraordinary: a mother-of-pearl saddle with gold foil trim, adorned with bright red tassels like flames, silver bridle, and purple-white reins.

The man on horseback, wearing a dragon-patterned helmet, a magnificent suit of armor, and a Soza Samonji pendant at his waist, was none other than Imagawa Yoshimoto, who had hastily fled from his camp. He made a decisive move, ordering the others to hold off the Oda army's surprise attack as much as possible, while he himself led about three hundred hatamoto down Okehazama Mountain and hurriedly headed towards the Tokaido.

But the Oda army pursued relentlessly, and in the brutal fighting, the original three hundred men were reduced to less than fifty. Yoshimoto himself had also been separated from his men in a previous battle, leaving him alone with only a horse to escape for his life.

"hateful!"

As he fled, Yoshimoto gritted his teeth. His anger raged; he couldn't believe he'd been caught off guard by a mere brat like Oda Nobunaga. But at the same time, he didn't let his rage cloud his judgment, calmly analyzing the situation.

Nobunaga's intentions were obvious; killing him here might turn this seemingly hopeless battle around. But if he returned alive to Okazaki, it would be nothing more than a minor defeat for the Imagawa clan. Victory and defeat are common in war; the immediate priority was not to vent his anger on Nobunaga, but to save his own life.

"Lord Suruga, I am Kuwabara Jinnai, a retainer of the Oda clan, and I have come to take your life!"

Suddenly, a figure flashed in the woods, and a long spear thrust towards him!

But Yoshimoto was prepared. He neither dodged nor yielded, but grabbed the hand directly. The iron handguard was pierced by the spear tip, but it didn't even leave a scratch. Then, he grabbed the spear shaft with his five fingers, and in the instant he passed by, he drew his katana and slashed hard!

The samurai, wearing tattered armor, immediately fell to the ground.

"Tsk."

The feel was a bit strange; it seemed like it hadn't hit any vital organs. He was tempted to finish it off, but the sounds of killing were already getting closer from behind. Yiyuan clicked his tongue and was about to urge the horse to keep running when suddenly an arrow shot out and hit the horse's leg. The blue-haired steed let out a mournful cry and knelt down. Yiyuan also rolled into the mud.

Oda's men surrounded him, their bamboo spears piercing his armor without moving an inch. Yoshimoto swung his sword, severing the nearby bamboo spear, and charged forward, felling the foot soldier to the ground with a single blow.

Blood flowed freely at his feet. He raised his head, his eyes fierce, and stared at his surroundings. The other foot soldiers were so frightened that they took a step back, dropped their weapons tremblingly, and ran away, crying out, "Help! Help!"

Yiyuan didn't give chase; his armor was simply too heavy to keep up with. He took two steps back, leaned against a tree trunk, caught his breath, and after a moment's thought, gritted his teeth, removed his helmet and armor, tossed them carelessly on the ground, and, wearing only his undershirt, staggered away…

Without the burden of armor, his steps became much lighter. Although Yi Yuan was slightly overweight, he was only in his forties and in the prime of his life. Now that he was in mortal danger, he was determined to make his legs move like afterimages. He staggered and stumbled, not knowing how far he had run. He only felt that the rain around him seemed to have lessened a bit.

He squinted, vaguely seeing a hazy outline in the distance.

Is it... Okazaki Castle?

Although the wind and rain obscured his exact appearance, this single thought gave Yoshimoto a sudden surge of hope. His body, which had been utterly exhausted, was suddenly filled with renewed strength. He gripped his blood-stained katana and charged forward two steps with all his might.

Suddenly, amidst the swaying leaves, a figure appeared under a tree.

The figure was covered with a straw raincoat and a bamboo hat, obscuring its features. Only the soles of its mud-covered straw sandals were visible. Looking further up, one could see that its ankles were snow-white, suggesting it was a woman's. The figure lay under a tree, a bundle behind its head, and clutched a long knife in its arms.

It was indeed a long sword, with a hilt that was two feet long and a blade that was about three feet long, totaling five feet. According to later calculations, that would be about 1.5 meters.

It is more than twice as long as a regular katana.

Moreover, the long sword was unsheathed, and the blade gleamed in the light of the torrential rain.

With Okazaki Castle almost in sight, and escape seemingly imminent, Yoshimoto felt a mix of surprise, joy, and unease. Looking at the strange man in the straw raincoat who had suddenly appeared, he was momentarily at a loss for what to do. Was he an enemy, or just someone passing by?

Should we ignore it, or...?

A certain thought in my mind has not yet solidified into reality—

Swish!

Suddenly, a flash of silver light appeared.

Joy, anger, sorrow, happiness, and surprise—all these emotions seemed to converge in the same instant. Imagawa Yoshimoto stared wide-eyed at the strange man in the straw raincoat—who remained motionless from beginning to end, still lying in the same spot—and then raised his hand to touch his waist.

His upper body then fell to the side.

……

"Ah... I slept so well."

Only after the rain stopped and the sky cleared did the figure, who had been sleeping soundly in the rain wearing a raincoat, stretch and sigh leisurely.

The straw hat fell down, revealing a face that was surprisingly that of a pretty girl of sixteen or seventeen. Her jet-black hair was tied in a ponytail at the back of her head, and she had an oval face, willow-leaf eyebrows, and a small mole under her left eyebrow. But the next moment, when she saw the body lying on the ground, broken in two, the girl froze.

"A dead man? Could it be someone I killed again..." she muttered to herself, immediately looking down at her long sword. But the heavy rain earlier had already washed the blood off the sword, leaving no trace.

"Great, no blood, I didn't kill him, I don't know anything... I'm so sorry." The girl seemed unable to overcome her guilt in the end. She clasped her hands together and bowed to the corpse on the ground. "Amitabha, good, good, may you be reborn soon..."

Then, with a worried expression and sighing, he said, "Alas, this situation of killing in dreams is getting more and more serious. We must find a way to solve it quickly... The expert that Sister Longzi mentioned should be in Yuanjiang... Yuanjiang, Yuanjiang, this is Sanhe, Yuanjiang is in the east... Speaking of which, where is east? That's right, a river of spring water flows eastward, water always flows eastward!"

She crouched down, carefully observed the traces of the water flow, found her direction, and confidently strode forward, carrying the 1.5-meter-long broadsword.

While doing so, he couldn't help but smugly praise himself: "As expected of me!"

……

The girl had just left.

Where is Lord Suruga?!

"Imagawa Harubu takes your life!"

Two Oda clan soldiers rushed over, their armor torn and panting heavily, looking utterly disheveled. They had noticed Imagawa Yoshimoto's escape route and had been chasing him. They were startled when they suddenly saw the two pieces of his body on the ground.

"Koheita, look at this on the ground... is that Lord Suruga?"

The other person nodded: "It seems so..."

"How...how did he die?"

"I do not know……"

The two looked at each other, their eyes filled with confusion.

……

Chapter 104 Leader Lost, Individual Thoughts Abound

Life and death are unpredictable.

Even Imagawa Yoshimoto himself probably never imagined that such a powerful figure, who had dominated the world for decades and whose every move shook half of Japan, would die so hastily and unexpectedly. If he could choose again, he might have chosen to stay on the mountain and fight a fierce battle against the attacking Oda army, so that even if he died, his life's fame would not have been in vain.

Unfortunately, there's no going back in this world, and no one cares about the thoughts of a dead person. The dead are gone, and the living always have their own things to do.

This is a low hill called Mame, located slightly in front of Tarakuhazama. Looking out, from the top of the hill to the middle, the foot of the hill and the village settlements not far away, there is a dense mass of people, stretching as far as the eye can see.

Strictly speaking, there were only two or three thousand Oda soldiers gathered here, but being among them, one still felt as if swallowed by a huge wave, deeply aware of one's own insignificance.

Fujikichiro gripped his spear, leaning most of his exhausted body against it to keep from collapsing to the ground. His simple armor was missing a piece, bearing sparse marks of swords and spears.

That already comical face, which resembled a monkey, looked even more wretched now, covered in dust, dirt, and blood. Yet, he had no self-awareness whatsoever, only turning his eyes around curiously, looking here and there.

In fact, his companions all looked similar, their faces covered in blood and grime, their expressions filled with exhaustion. They were only holding on by sheer willpower. When their eyes met, regardless of their usual relationship, or even if they disliked each other, they would all burst into laughter.

"we won?"

"We won!"

What began as whispers gradually grew louder, eventually erupting into a deafening roar that echoed throughout the valleys: "Hey! Hey! Oh!"

These simple shouts carried the scent of my hometown, Owari.

The cheers reached all the way to the top of Mount Mame. Although the cheers were thunderous all around and the senior retainers of the family who surrounded him were all overjoyed to have survived a disaster, only Oda Nobunaga, who had personally orchestrated this surprise attack, remained expressionless and silently looked at the mountain of heads piled up in front of him.

These are the enemy heads captured in this battle, totaling about 2,500, including about 550 named military officers, including Yoshimoto.

Although only a few hours had passed, the raging storm had completely subsided, as if it were a dream. The sun was high in the sky, and the surroundings were gradually getting warmer again. Only the chirping of cicadas could be heard, and a thin white mist was rising from the bodies of the thousands of soldiers.

"Lord..."

Someone approached; it was Nobunaga's youngest brother, Ikeda Katsusaburo Tsuneoki. Although young, he possessed exceptional literary and military talents and was deeply trusted by Nobunaga. When Nobunaga suddenly decided to ride out of the city at dawn, he was one of the first to catch up.

"It's Katsusaburo. What are you holding in your hand?"

"The taro was a gift from the villagers nearby, along with water and rice balls. Everyone has already started eating." Ikeda Tsuneoki smiled, breaking open a taro with his dirty hands and handing one half over. Nobunaga didn't mind the mess, grabbing it and stuffing it into his mouth, chewing heartily and praising, "Delicious, delicious."

Even with over two thousand heads right in front of them, it didn't stop the master and servant from wolfing down their food. After finishing half a taro and filling their stomachs, Nobunaga wiped the food crumbs off his mouth and nose with his thumb, put them in his mouth, and then slightly squinted his eyes.

"Lord Suruga, our army won this battle... It was truly a stroke of luck."

He looked directly into Imagawa Yoshimoto's unseeing eyes and said in a low voice.

This was not a humble statement from the victor. Nobunaga knew perfectly well that about 70% of the main reason for this victory was due to the sudden downpour.

If the storm hadn't obscured their movements, even if Imagawa Yoshimoto's main camp had been attacked, they would have had enough time to react, either to summon nearby troops to reinforce them or to simply withdraw. Even if they suffered a temporary defeat, as long as Yoshimoto was alive, the foundation of their tens of thousands of troops would remain, and they could make a comeback at any time.

Once Imagawa is prepared, the outcome of the war will be a foregone conclusion.

Nobunaga had never believed in gods or Buddhas, but without their help, he would never have been able to weather this greatest crisis of his life. A profound sense of irony welled up within him, but Nobunaga didn't show it. He looked up at the sky, where a beautiful rainbow hung in the clear blue sky after the rain.

The surrounding noise gradually subsided.

After celebrating their victory, the Oda clan soldiers gazed at the mountain of heads, yet couldn't help but feel a pang of sadness. As the saying goes, "like attracts like," and one day they too would die like these enemies before them.

Life is but fifty years, like a dream, and death is inevitable... Recalling the song that Lord Nobunaga often sang, everyone fell silent, silently remembering those valiant enemies, and the tragic battlefield of not long ago seemed to reappear before their eyes.

"It's such a pity..."

The Imagawa clan had no shortage of loyal and brave men. Even after their main camp was attacked and Yoshimoto was beheaded, many of them still fought bravely to the last moment. Among them, the one who impressed Oda's men the most was Ii Naomori, who was stationed nearby to guard the area.

Because of the wind and rain, their troops were completely unaware of Oda's surprise attack. After learning of the death of their general Yoshimoto, perhaps out of guilt and self-blame, Ii Naomori, knowing that the situation was hopeless, still led his men in a fierce and tragic battle to the death. All of their more than a thousand men died in the battle, with no survivors.

Naomori himself even charged right up to Nobunaga, exchanging blows with his close attendants for several rounds before being defeated and killed. The head of the enemy, with its eyes wide open in fury, now lies next to Yoshimoto, and every time their eyes meet, Nobunaga is reminded of the spear that was so close to him.

In addition, there were Yoshimoto's uncle, Urahara Ujimasa, his nephew, Kuno Hantada, his brother-in-law, Asai Masatoshi, as well as Yamaguchi Samanosuke, Imoto Yoshimasa, Yoshida Musashi, Katsuyama Harima, Ebisu Minbu, Ikan Gon no Kami, Matsui Munenobu, Okabe Kai no Kami Nagasada, Fujieda Iga no Kami Ujiaki, Asakita Nagae no Hideaki, and so on... All of these who died in Okehazama were key retainers of the Imagawa clan and Yoshimoto's trusted right-hand men.

"They died a worthy death."

Nobunaga sighed, but said nothing more. Several foot soldiers nearby, shovels in hand, dug a large pit, piling a high mound of earth beside it. Of the more than two thousand heads, except for Yoshimoto's, which needed to be taken back to Kiyosu Castle for display, the rest were examined and thrown into the pit.

Led by Nobunaga, all the soldiers watched this scene with solemnity. No one chanted Buddhist scriptures, but even though it was somewhat hasty, they still buried these enemies with great care. Not only samurai, but even the heads of ordinary people could not be taken lightly and had to be treated with respect. On the line between life and death, those who were lucky enough to survive kept reflecting on the lives they had lived so far.

New soil was added to the pit, forming a simple mound. Nobunaga clasped his hands together and remained silent before the new grave. With their lord making this gesture, the others dared not utter a sound. This strange silence continued until the sound of approaching hooves grew louder.

"How's it going?"

Nobunaga raised his eyes and asked the visitor.

Those were spies he had sent to scout the vicinity of Ōdaka beforehand. In this war, apart from Yoshimoto himself, the person Nobunaga feared most was Matsudaira Motoyasu, who was now stationed near Ōdaka. The enemy's skillful capture of the castles of Washizu and Marune filled him with vigilance, making him regard him as an opponent that could not be ignored.

"Report! After hearing that Lord Suruga was killed in battle, the Ōdaka army was in a state of panic for a while and frequently sent out scouts. Later, they seemed to accept the fact and calmed down. They showed no signs of advancing here. Instead, they gathered their soldiers and it seems that they intend to withdraw to Mikawa."

After hearing the scout's report, Nobunaga finally breathed a sigh of relief. Then another scout came and reported that Okabe Motonobu in the direction of Narumi Castle had also made no move, confirming that the retreat was safe. Only then did he loudly announce, "Alright, let's go back!"

"Yes!"

Everyone agreed with a roar.

After securing this miraculous victory, the soldiers, covered in blood and grime, dragged their weary bodies, their faces beaming with joy, and formed ranks to begin their journey home. Leading the way was naturally Nobunaga himself. The sun had not yet set, and its rays shone upon him, making his armor gleam. To those behind him, he appeared like a god descended to earth.

"anyway……"

But Nobunaga himself had no such thoughts. Unlike when he arrived, he was leisurely sitting across his horse, his hands on the saddle, swaying as he walked forward. It was as if, with the end of the war, that amazing courage had once again vanished from him, turning him back into the young man who was usually jokingly called a big fool.

"What does the lord want to say?" Perhaps because the voice was a little soft, Ikeda Tsuneoki, who was standing next to him, did not hear it clearly for a moment and asked.

"I say, Mikawa is going to have a headache, after all, Lord Suruga just happened to die outside Okazaki Castle, and his head wasn't even taken... This is going to be interesting. Haha!" Nobunaga said with a mischievous smile.

……

Some are happy and some are sad.

Outside Okazaki Castle, in Kamoda Village, at Daiju-ji Temple. The comings and goings of Matsudaira's troops transformed this secluded place into a fortified stronghold of the secular world. Matsudaira Motoyasu, fully armed, sat beneath a tree, his face, more mature than his actual age, filled with a somber expression.

The day was May 23rd. Yoshimoto's death in Okehazama had occurred four days earlier.