The news of Taigen Sessai's death spread across the Tōkaidō even faster than imagined.
In the days that followed, increasingly detailed intelligence reports converged upon Kaede's Village through the osore network of his subordinate demons.
The tanuki's reports. The great kappa's supplementary accounts. The kamaitachi's corroborating evidence. Together, they pieced together a complete picture.
After Taigen Sessai's death, the Imagawa clan did not descend into chaos as the outside world had anticipated. Quite the opposite. Imagawa Yoshimoto, that young daimyō, so crippled by insecurity that she never left the castle without at least forty ashigaru, six mounted samurai, and eight palanquin bearers, in the time following the loss of her teacher, did something no one expected.
Taigen Sessai had left behind a plan before her death. And Imagawa Yoshimoto, at the very moment when everyone believed she would collapse, executed every last one of Sessai's posthumous strategies.
One by one. Without compromise. Leveraging Shinji's influence, she forged an alliance with Hōjō Ujiyasu. Then, together with Hōjō Ujiyasu, she applied combined diplomatic and military pressure upon Takeda Shingen.
In the end, a tripartite pact was formed. The military compact of the Kai-Sagami-Suruga Alliance was sealed. And riding the momentum and prestige of that alliance, she fully centralized the military authority of the three provinces of Suruga,
Tōtōmi, and Mikawa under the Imagawa main family. The consolidation of power beneath Imagawa rule was complete. Seizing the window of opportunity while the second-generation Kenshin was bogged down with Echigo's internal affairs and unable to turn her gaze southward, the Imagawa clan, with thunderous decisiveness, fully integrated every resource they could command in the Kantō. She became, in name and in truth, the First Archer of the Tōkaidō in the Kantō.
Suruga, Tōtōmi, Mikawa. Three provinces. In terms of terrain, they stretched like a drawn warbow. From this point on, the troops directly under her command numbered seven thousand.
Including branch families and subordinates, while maintaining stability in her home provinces, the total force she could directly mobilize approached twenty thousand. Of course, those counted as flanking forces.
Logistics and supply chains still had to be accounted for. In this expanded world, logistics were an absolute necessity. But this number, among the daimyō of the Warring States era, was already second to none. It ranked among the very highest in the entire realm.
Imagawa Yoshimoto's objective was clear. She intended to march upon the capital. From the Tōkaidō, striking west. To open the road to Kyōto. To enter the Kinai. To seize the supreme moral authority of the realm.
She was outmatched in the individual martial prowess of her subordinate generals, vulnerable to decapitation strikes by enemy champions. But as long as she could occupy Kyōto, that nearly thousand-year-old fortress, she would have no fear of any assassination attempt.
As a kinswoman of the Ashikaga shogunal family of the Muromachi bakufu, she possessed both the legitimacy and the qualifications. And the first obstacle on this road, was Owari Province.
The Oda clan. A minor house, holding barely half a province. Their military strength numbered no more than a thousand or two. Their lord was a petty daimyō who had only assumed leadership half a year ago, with a stipend of a mere two thousand koku.
Before Imagawa Yoshimoto's seven thousand main-family soldiers, this was hardly an obstacle at all. At least, that was what Imagawa Yoshimoto believed. And so, with the greater part of her forces, she grandly marched into the gateway of Owari Province.
Okehazama.
The narrowest valley on the road to Kyōto. A place Taigen Sessai had specifically marked in her posthumous strategies.
But when Imagawa Yoshimoto arrived, she chose to encamp and rest. Because she was confident. And because she was tired. Seven thousand men, marching for three days. When they arrived, it was high noon. The sun blazed fiercely.
Yoshimoto felt they should stop for a cup of tea. Eat something. Wait for the oppressive heat to subside before moving on. Posthumous strategies were dead things. The hearts of men could change. This, too, was something Taigen Sessai had said.
And just as the news of her encampment reached Kaede's Village through the osore network, Shinji stood before the shrine hall, clutching Tsubaki's prayer beads in his hand, silently raising their Affection.
His crimson demon eyes gazed fixedly westward. Then he brushed off the hem of his robes. It was time to go. This was not solely for the sake of that entrusted plea. Strictly speaking, he had never promised Taigen Sessai anything.
The words I'll do what I can were exceedingly, profoundly vague. But considering all factors, Shinji knew, in the end, he still had to act. Not for her. Not solely for Imagawa Yoshimoto. But for himself. For Kyōto. He would eventually have to go to Kyōto.
Hagoromo Gitsune coiled there, manipulating the darkness of the capital. Though she had been far less active these past two months, Shinji knew, that daiyōkai, arguably the strongest of this era, was merely biding her time. And he certainly could not wait for her to achieve her objective and come sweeping down upon him with catastrophic force.
His own development would only be faster. And once his strength was sufficient, charging in alone, or leading his Hyakki Yakō, was not out of the question. But if an obedient daimyō, or even a "shogun" who held the reins of the bakufu, cleared the path ahead, many things would become far more convenient. Supporting Imagawa Yoshimoto's rise aligned with his own interests.
As for why not Hōjō Ujiyasu of Sagami, who had also placed heavy stakes upon him, the reason was simple. Hōjō Ujiyasu's ambition was far too small. It was like placing bets.
Though the Imagawa seemed to have wagered less, merely enshrining him as a household guardian deity, their relationship more akin to straightforward cooperation, if the Imagawa succeeded in their march on Kyōto, Shinji would become the guardian deity of the new ruler of the realm, even of the new shogunal family. His status would rise with the tide.
A single house ruling all under heaven. One house, becoming the realm itself. The Hōjō, on the other hand, had rigidly defined him as the shōshin of the two provinces of Sagami and Musashi, attempting to bind him to the Kantō, to Sagami itself, through incense and votive faith.
Hōjō Ujiyasu had no ambition to seize the realm. She felt this was enough. So one could say: though Hōjō Ujiyasu's methods were not lacking, her vision was indeed far inferior. The scope she set her eyes upon was far too narrow.
One had to understand, it wasn't just the Kantō region, which Hōjō Ujiyasu only dreamed of dominating. The entire island realm, in Shinji's eyes, was not large enough. It was merely the size of a single province of the Heavenly Continent.
A twentieth or thirtieth of its vastness. Smaller than a single state during the Spring and Autumn and Warring States eras of the Heavenly Continent two thousand years ago. Even magnified several times over, it was still so.
"Tanuki Jūsaburō. Relay the orders." Shinji's crimson demon eyes narrowed slightly.
He issued his commands. "Have the great kappa at Shimizu Port move his forces toward the western sea regions. Have the Yuki-onna in the north press against the border. Make the posture of preparing for war. Apply some pressure to Echigo. Ensure they don't entertain any ideas of stabbing us in the back."
Though it was highly unlikely. According to the intelligence Shinji had received, the second-generation Uesugi Kenshin was currently in profound distress over having lost such an exceptionally capable administrator as Naoe Kanetsugu.
But Shinji still needed to take precautions. His subordinate forces were precisely meant to be used at times like this.
"Yes, Master!" The tanuki slammed his forehead to the ground and vanished into the earth in a puff of demonic smoke. Silence returned to the courtyard.
Shinji turned and walked toward the torii gate. A figure in white already stood there. She had clearly been waiting for some time. White uwagi. Crimson hakama. Black hair like a waterfall. A longbow slung across her back. Kikyō. She didn't speak. She simply gazed at him in silence.
"I need to go. Owari. Okehazama," Shinji said.
"I know." Kikyō nodded. Her voice was level. "I'm coming too."
Shinji looked at her. If this had been before, he likely wouldn't have agreed outright. After all, it was a war between two daimyō. A slaughter-field of thousands, even tens of thousands.
The sheer density of bloodlust would be staggering. There were far too many variables. Though Kikyō was powerful, she was also fragile. In the end, she was still mortal. A body of flesh and blood.
But now, Kikyō took a step forward. Without any warning, the outline of her body suddenly blurred. Her entire form transformed into a mass of pure reiryoku light. That light was not blinding, yet its speed was astonishing. It flashed around the torii gate and reappeared at Shinji's side in the span of a single breath. Her footsteps were silent. Not even the hem of her robes was disturbed. The Spiritualization Technique.
She looked at him. The meaning in her eyes required no words.
Shinji smiled. It was a faint smile. But it softened the rigid, cold lines of his face. He had never intended to refuse.
"Fine," he said. "Then let's go. My miko." He added, "Momiji, Botan. Watch over things here. If anything happens, consult the Yuki-onna, the great kappa… or discuss it with Naoe Kanetsugu. We'll return as soon as we can."
As his voice fell, Momiji and Botan, who had just emerged from the shrine behind them, didn't even have time to respond.
In the next instant, thunder detonated. Reiryoku surged. One human, one yōkai. One miko, one god. They launched directly into the air and vanished from sight.
Momiji and Botan stood frozen, exchanging blank glances. After a long moment, Botan spoke a single sentence. "With an ability like that… has Lady Kikyō become a yōkai too?"
Momiji: "…"
She expressed, with her silence, a profound disinterest in engaging with her idiot sister.
Okehazama. Located at the southeastern tip of Owari Province. A narrow valley winding between rolling hills. To the north, undulating low ridges. To the south, dense forest.
Between them, a passage no wider than about 60 metres. The Imagawa main camp was pitched at the open ground on the western end of the valley. The encampment of seven thousand spread across the gentle slope. Banners snapped in the wind. Tents stretched endlessly. Cooking smoke rose from every direction. It was just past high noon. The heat was oppressive.
Within the great tent at the very heart of the main camp, Imagawa Yoshimoto sat upon a low cushioned dais draped in brocade. In her hand was the folding fan painted with pine and crane.
She was stuffing a piece of rice cake into her mouth. Her twelve-layered kimono of deep purple and gold spread across the ground around her. Her slender, narrow-shouldered frame was wrapped in layer upon layer of fabric.
The only things exposed were a delicate, striking face, her cascading black hair, and the heavy golden headdress atop it.
A daimyō of sixteen or seventeen. Ruler of the three provinces of Suruga, Tōtōmi, and Mikawa. At this moment, she was chewing rice cake and flipping through battle reports.
"How many has the Oda managed to scrape together on the other side?"
"Reporting to Your Ladyship. According to the scouts' intelligence, the Oda main camp in Owari has mustered approximately one thousand two hundred to one thousand five hundred soldiers. Including logistics and craftsmen, no more than three thousand." The reporting retainer knelt before the tent, his forehead pressed to the ground.
Yoshimoto nodded. Her cheeks bulged as she chewed. "Fifteen hundred." She held up a finger, going directly with the highest estimate. Seven thousand against fifteen hundred. She held a numerical advantage of nearly five to one. And the Imagawa army was no rabble. Years of training under Taigen Sessai had forged Suruga's ashigaru into disciplined soldiers.
Tōtōmi's cavalry were among the finest in the Kantō. Add to that the subordinate forces of the Matsudaira clan of Mikawa and others. The advantage was hers.
Yoshimoto set down the battle report and tapped her fan against her palm. The corner of her mouth lifted. The road to the capital, began here. She would break through Owari. Cross Mino. Drive straight into the Kinai. Once she reached Kyōto, she would pay homage to the Emperor.
Gain the court's recognition. Become the hegemon of the realm. Control the Emperor and command the feudal lords. But before that— "Let's rest first." She stretched, her fan covering half her face, revealing only a pair of gleaming eyes.
"Three days of forced march. Everyone's exhausted. Let the soldiers eat and drink their fill. There's no rush to leave until tomorrow."
The retainer seemed about to speak, but looking at his young lord's expression, he ultimately held his tongue. Outside the tent, the sun blazed fiercely. The camp of seven thousand was steeped in the languor of high noon.
And amidst this lazy, drowsy atmosphere, from the crest of the hills to the northeast, hoofbeats suddenly exploded. Warhorses. Cavalry. A company of several dozen light cavalry surged over the far side of the low ridge.
Their speed was blinding. Their formation impossibly tight. It was as though the hills themselves had split open and vomited forth a river of iron. The rider at the very front was the most striking of all. A tall warhorse, pitch-black. Its barding was covered in dark golden scales.
The only heavy cavalry among them. The one mounted upon it, was a woman. Barely past twenty. Toweringly tall. Broad-shouldered and powerfully built. She wore silver armor over a blue battle skirt. The curve of her breastplate was stretched to its limit, the gaps between the plates cinching tight, tracing a vivid arc from her collarbones to her waist.
Her deep brown hair was bound atop her head. Her features were both refined and brimming with heroic ferocity. A pair of amber eyes blazed, blinding even beneath the afternoon sun. The weapon gripped in both hands was a long-hafted great axe.
The blade was wider than her shoulders. Its entire surface gleamed with a razor-sharp luster. That luster was utterly different from the mere reflection of ordinary metal.
It was closer to a light that radiated from within, carrying the pulse of searing heat. It was exactly the same as the pure, lofty faith-power emanating from the divine-vessel-incarnate warrior maidens under Uesugi Kenshin and Takeda Shingen, yet entirely different. It was berserk. Destructive. Bearing scorching, incandescent heat.
If Uesugi Kenshin's Bishamonten power was an exalted buddha-light hanging high above, if Takeda Shingen's Fūrinkazan Crimson Guard were war-chariots trampling across the earth, then the power radiating from this woman was closer to an apocalyptic flame descending from the heavens.
From the Demon King of the Sixth Heaven. The Demon King of the Sixth Heaven, recorded in the Buddhist scriptures as the sovereign who ruled the Sixth Heaven of the Realm of Desire, Takejizai-ten. His true name was Māra. Not a buddha. Not a god. Not a demon. He was the Ma. The ultimate existence that stood in opposition to the Buddha, the embodiment of desire and destruction.
And in this era, that young, female daimyō of Owari, who had just defeated her own younger brother to seize power and was already infamous across the land as a "madwoman", had claimed precisely this title for herself.
The Demon King of the Sixth Heaven. Oda Nobuna. Others dismissed it as the ravings of a lunatic. But nowm gazing upon that female warrior riding the black horse, swinging that massive gray-iron axe, leading dozens of armored riders in a direct, headlong charge toward the Imagawa main camp, gazing upon the power emanating from her, anyone could foresee: that was no mere mad raving.
"Shibata Katsuie! By order of my Lord—" The warrior maiden's voice cascaded down from the hilltop. Her voice was vast and far-reaching, like the continuous call of a war-horn. "I come to take the head of Imagawa Yoshimoto!"
Dozens of iron-shod hooves trampled the wild grass of the hills into pulp. The dust they kicked up blotted out half the sky. The Imagawa main camp's perimeter defenses were pierced through in less than half an incense stick's time.
The first rank of ashigaru hadn't even leveled their spears before they were bowled over by the charging horses. Shibata Katsuie's great axe swept outward in a horizontal arc. A terrifying blade of light slashed past. Wherever it passed, the bamboo spears of the ashigaru snapped in two. Their bamboo armor shattered like paper.
It was not merely a crushing of physical strength. It was the power clinging to that great axe. The power of a divine artifact. The manifested power of a god or buddha. Originating from the same lineage as faith-power, it naturally suppressed all things supernatural.
And it also carried its own intrinsic weight. Before such power, mundane iron was like rotten wood. Bamboo armor was like paper. Human flesh and blood were like tofu. The second rank. The third rank. The ashigaru were scattered and broken in rapid succession.
Several dozen armored riders rampaged through the Imagawa camp of seven thousand like a red-hot blade thrust into a block of frozen tofu. No one could stop them. No one dared stand in their way.
Inside the great tent, the rice cake in Imagawa Yoshimoto's hand dropped onto the brocade. She heard the screams, the shrieks of horses, and the crash of metal exploding outside.
The tent flap was thrown upward by the surging shockwaves of air, and she saw the scene outside. Dozens of dark-crimson armored cavalry were rampaging unchecked through her vast army.
The woman at their head swung an axe larger than a human being. With every sweep of that axe, several men fell.
"What's happening—?!" Yoshimoto was stunned, even stricken with terror. Her body instinctively shrank back against the cushioned dais. Fear. Genuine, primal fear. She was terrified of death. She always had been.
"Your Ladyship, you must flee—!" The retainers beside her threw themselves forward, forming a desperate barrier before her, trying to shield her. But Yoshimoto's gaze had already pierced through the gap in the tent flaps and locked dead onto that leading female warrior.
Locked onto the great axe in her hand, blazing with that gray-iron light. That light, was exactly the same as the light that had radiated from Uesugi Kenshin's Kakizaki Kageie! No—essentially the same, yet different in color and character.
But Yoshimoto knew all too well what it was. Because she had personally witnessed the divine-vessel warrior maidens of the Uesugi army. Because she had discussed with Shinji the question of why the Imagawa had no divine artifacts. Because she had believed that only daimyō of the caliber of Takeda Shingen and Uesugi Kenshin would possess such things.
That was why she had dared to launch a large-scale northern campaign. But, Owari. A minor daimyō of a mere half-province. Oda Nobuna. A girl dismissed by all as a madwoman. She actually had one too?
"How is this possible…" Yoshimoto's voice was trembling. "A tiny, insignificant house like the Owari Oda… has something like this too? How?!"