In the spring of Eiroku 12 (1569), after completing his initial military and political deployments in Kyoto, Oda Nobunaga led his army back to Gifu Castle. He needed to rest his troops, replenish supplies, and deal with accumulated administrative affairs in his home provinces of Mino and Owari. He left Kyoto in the hands of Ashikaga Yoshiaki, Wada Koremasa, and others, stationing ten thousand picked troops to guard the strategic points of the capital region. He thought to himself: the Miyoshi have been beaten back to Awa and Awaji; surely they will stay quiet now.
But he underestimated the Miyoshi's tenacity.
The Miyoshi had dominated the capital region for many years, with deep roots. Though badly mauled, they were far from finished. After retreating to Awa Province, Miyoshi Nagayasu, Miyoshi Masakatsu, and Miyoshi Nagaharu licked their wounds while secretly contacting their old followers in the capital region, waiting for a chance to strike back. When they learned that Nobunaga had left Kyoto, they saw their opportunity.
"Oda Nobunaga has returned to Gifu," Nagayasu said to the other two at Shōzui Castle in Awa. "The capital region is undefended. If we don't strike now, when will we?"
Masakatsu hesitated. "But we were badly beaten in Settsu last time. Our strength has not yet recovered…"
"If we don't have enough men, we'll make up for it with strategy," Nagaharu interjected. "We still have many contacts in the capital region. We can coordinate from inside and outside."
They debated for three days and nights and finally devised a risky plan—attack on two fronts: one force would cross the sea from Awaji, land in Settsu, and attack Nobunaga's positions there; the other would bypass Settsu and drive directly into Yamashiro Province, striking Kyoto by surprise.
Their goal was not to take and hold territory, but to seize Kyoto, install a new shōgun of their own, and restore Miyoshi hegemony in the capital region. They had not yet decided who that shōgun would be, but they could occupy Kyoto first.
One night in mid March, the Miyoshi army set out from Awaji, crossing the Kii Channel under cover of darkness and landing on the coast of Settsu. The Oda garrison, caught completely off guard, was overwhelmed; several small castles changed hands in a single night. Buoyed by their success, the Miyoshi pushed eastward, and news that they were advancing on Kyoto soon reached Gifu Castle.
Nobunaga was drinking and admiring the cherry blossoms with his retainers in the garden of Gifu Castle when a scout brought the urgent report. He leapt to his feet, the wine cup shattering on the ground.
"Miyoshi Nagayasu! You are asking for death!" Nobunaga roared, kicking over the table in front of him. "Saddle my horse! Muster the troops! We leave at once!"
His retainers were shocked. Shibata Katsuie stepped forward. "My lord, it is already late. Better to wait until morning…"
"Morning?" Nobunaga shoved Katsuie aside. "By morning the Miyoshi will have broken into Kyoto! We leave now. March all night."
Within half an hour, Oda Nobunaga was racing out of Gifu Castle with three thousand picked cavalry. The thunder of hooves echoed in the darkness. The soldiers carried torches as they galloped through the night, the flames forming a fiery dragon winding across the countryside.
Nobunaga's face was ashen; he said nothing. Regret gnawed at him—he had been too careless, thinking the Miyoshi completely finished, and had left too few troops in Kyoto. If the Miyoshi actually entered Kyoto and harmed the shōgun or the Emperor, all his previous efforts would be wasted.
He lashed his horse and sped on.
The usual journey from Gifu to Kyoto took two days. Nobunaga's force covered it in less than a day and a night. When his banners appeared on the southern outskirts of Kyoto, the Miyoshi vanguard had only just reached the Fushimi area on the city's edge.
Miyoshi Nagayasu received a scout's report that Oda Nobunaga himself was racing from Gifu with a large army. He nearly fell off his horse in terror.
"Impossible! How could he be so fast?" Nagayasu cried out.
Miyoshi Masakatsu's face went white; his voice shook. "Nagayasu, we must withdraw. Nobunaga is coming. We cannot defeat him."
Miyoshi Nagaharu nodded vigorously. "As long as the green hills remain, we need not fear the lack of firewood. Retreat!"
Before the Miyoshi could even form an attack formation, they turned and fled west in disorder, abandoning vast amounts of provisions and equipment. Some soldiers threw away even their weapons, wishing they had been born with more legs.
Oda Nobunaga did not pursue. He entered Kyoto, first confirmed Ashikaga Yoshiaki's safety, then sent men to the Imperial Palace to ensure the Emperor was unharmed. Only then did he exhale in relief.
"That old wretch Miyoshi Nagayasu," Nobunaga said bitterly. "He ran fast this time. Next time I meet him, I'll cut off his head myself."
The Miyoshi's raid was a wake up call—Kyoto's defences were too weak. He could not rely on desperate forced marches to put out every fire. He needed a solid stronghold, a fortress that could hold its own against a Miyoshi attack.
Nobunaga convened his generals in Kyoto and, pointing at the Nijō area on the map, said, "Build a new castle here."
Nijō lay in the heart of Kyoto—east of the Imperial Palace, west of Suzaku Avenue, north of Ōmiya, south of Shijō Street. Its location was excellent. Nobunaga planned to build a large scale citadel there as his permanent residence in Kyoto and as the command centre for the capital's defence.
He named it "Nijō Shin'ei"—the predecessor of the later Nijō Castle.
Construction began in late March. Nobunaga conscripted more than ten thousand craftsmen and labourers from Owari, Mino, Ise, Ōmi, and elsewhere, working them day and night. Soldiers joined the labour, carrying stones, felling timber, digging moats.
Nobunaga personally supervised the work, dressed in rough cloth, a towel tied around his head, eating with the workmen and labouring alongside them, showing none of a daimyō's airs. The craftsmen were both impressed and moved by his manner, and worked all the harder.
While building Nijō Shin'ei, Nobunaga did something that earned the deep gratitude of the entire court—he funded the restoration of the Imperial Palace.
The palace had fallen into ruin during the years of warfare. The roof of the Shishiden leaked, the walls of the Seiryōden were cracked, and the Emperor's quarters smelled perpetually of mildew. Nobunaga brought in fine hinoki and sugi timber and green roof tiles, and summoned the most skilled artisans from all over to thoroughly repair the palace.
Emperor Ōgimachi stood in the refurbished Seiryōden, looked around, and was overcome with emotion. He said to a lady in waiting, "In all my years on the throne, this is the first time I feel that this palace is truly a palace."
During this large scale construction, one man stood out—Kinoshita Hideyoshi.
Hideyoshi had by then changed his name from Kinoshita Tōkichirō to Kinoshita Hideyoshi. This low born ashigaru, thanks to his performance at the building of Sunomiya Castle and in several campaigns, had been promoted by Nobunaga to a commander of foot soldiers, leading several hundred men. But the construction of Nijō Shin'ei allowed his talents to shine even more brightly.
Nobunaga gave Hideyoshi the daily management of the project. Hideyoshi took over and displayed astonishing organisational and administrative ability. He divided the craftsmen and labourers into small groups, each with a group leader responsible for its work progress and quality. He drew up a detailed work schedule: start at 7 a.m., break at noon for two hours, finish at 4 p.m., rest on rainy days, pay every five days. He also purchased large quantities of medical supplies from Kyoto pharmacies, set up a temporary clinic, and personally tended to injured workers.
What pleased Nobunaga even more was that Hideyoshi not only managed people but also won their hearts. He rose before dawn every day, visited each work site, chatted with the workmen, asked about their families, whether they had enough to eat. When someone was injured, he personally brought medicine; when a family had difficulties, he secretly helped. The workmen all liked him, called him "Lord Hideyoshi" among themselves, and laboured with extra zeal.
Once, Nobunaga visited the site and saw Hideyoshi carrying a heavy timber with a group of workmen. Hideyoshi was short; the heavy log pressed down on his shoulder, almost bending him double. But he gritted his teeth, took step after step, a smile still on his face, chanting "One two, one two" in rhythm.
Nobunaga watched for a while, then said to Niwa Nagahide beside him, "Hideyoshi will go far."
Niwa Nagahide nodded. "Yes. Though of humble birth, he is diligent and sincere. He is indeed a rare talent."
After more than a month of intense work, Nijō Shin'ei was completed in late April. The castle was not exceptionally grand, but it was well laid out and strongly built, capable of withstanding a siege by ten thousand men. Inside were granaries, arsenals, wells, stables—all the necessities. Outside, a deep moat was dug and filled with water from the Kamo River, creating a natural barrier.
Nobunaga gave Nijō Shin'ei to Ashikaga Yoshiaki as the shōgun's official residence. The day Yoshiaki moved in, he wore his full shōgun's ceremonial robes and, surrounded by his retainers, rode from the old Hosokawa mansion to Nijō Shin'ei. Crowds lined the streets, cheering; the shōgun's name echoed through the alleys of Kyoto.
Nobunaga left Hideyoshi at Nijō Shin'ei to command its defence. He clapped Hideyoshi on the shoulder and said, "Hideyoshi, I leave the defence of this castle to you. Work hard. Do not disappoint me."
Hideyoshi knelt, so moved his voice trembled: "My lord, as long as Hideyoshi lives, the castle stands; when Hideyoshi dies, the castle falls."
Nobunaga smiled, turned, and departed.
In the fifth month of Eiroku 12, after settling affairs in Kyoto, Nobunaga returned to Gifu Castle.
Back at Gifu, Nobunaga had little time to rest. His desk was piled with documents from all quarters: the Takeda to the east were active; the Asakura to the west were ambiguous; the Kitabatake to the south had not yet fully submitted; and from Tajima Province to the north came news that stirred his interest—there were silver mines in Tajima.
Tajima lay at the eastern end of the San'indō, facing the Sea of Japan to the north and bordering Harima and Mimasaka to the south. Its mountains were rich in minerals. The Ikuno Silver Mine was said to be one of the largest in Japan, producing astonishing amounts of silver each year. Whoever controlled Ikuno held immense wealth.
Nobunaga's trusted retainers Ikeda Katsumasa and Itami Chikashige were from Harima and knew Tajima well. They advised him: "My lord, Tajima is ruled by the Yamana clan, but the Yamana have declined. Yamana Toyotoyo is the nominal shugo of Tajima, but his retainers go their own ways, and the clan is disunited. If we march now, victory is certain."
Nobunaga was tempted. His financial base was mainly the annual tribute and commercial taxes from his domains, but that was not enough to support his immense military expenses. He needed more money—to buy more arquebuses, hire more soldiers, support more retainers.
"Tajima…" he murmured, a gleam in his eye.
In the sixth month of Eiroku 12, Oda Nobunaga marched on Tajima.
It was almost a foregone conclusion. The Yamana had once been great lords of San'in and San'yō, but after generations of internal strife they had fallen to near ruin. Yamana Toyotoyo was a mediocre man, without exceptional martial skill or strategic insight. He had few capable generals, and his soldiers' morale was low.
The Oda army entered Tajima from Harima, sweeping all before it. The Yamana forces, faced with this seasoned iron army, were like paper. In the first engagement, the Yamana were routed with heavy losses. In the second, before they could even form their ranks, the Oda arquebusiers scattered them.
Within ten days, Yamana Toyotoyo surrendered.
Nobunaga treated him leniently. He left Toyotoyo his nominal lands and title, but took the Ikuno mine and several surrounding castles under direct Oda control. He also stationed trusted retainers in Tajima to manage the mining and smelting.
The Ikuno mine lived up to its reputation. In its first year, it yielded tens of thousands of kan of silver. The silver was minted into large and small coins, part used for military expenses, part for rewarding retainers, and part for purchasing more arquebuses and ammunition. With the silver mine's support, Nobunaga's military strength grew markedly.
"Silver is a wonderful thing," Nobunaga said, hefting a silver coin. "With silver, you can buy arquebuses; with arquebuses, you can win more battles; by winning more battles, you get even more silver. That is a true virtuous cycle."
His retainers nodded in agreement.
After pacifying Tajima, Nobunaga turned his attention back to Ise Province.
Most of Ise was already under Nobunaga's control, but one nail still remained—the Kitabatake.
The Kitabatake held southern Ise, with their stronghold at Ōkōchi Castle. They had served as the Ise no Kami (Governor of Ise) for generations, descendants of the Southern Court nobility. Kitabatake Tomonori was a tough nut. Though he knew Oda Nobunaga's power, he refused to bow. During Nobunaga's earlier campaign in northern Ise, Tomonori had simply shut himself in his castle—neither surrendering nor resisting, adopting a posture of "non violent non cooperation."
Nobunaga had been too busy marching on the capital to bother with him. Now that the capital region was settled, he decided to eliminate this long standing threat.
In the eighth month of Eiroku 12, Oda Nobunaga personally led twenty thousand troops to invest Ōkōchi Castle.
Ōkōchi Castle sat on a hill in southern Ise, in a strong natural position. Its walls were built of huge stone blocks, several zhàng high (one zhàng ≈ 3.3 metres) and about two metres thick. In front ran a deep moat filled with water, its bottom studded with sharpened bamboo stakes. Every few paces along the wall was an embrasure from which archers could shoot at will.
Nobunaga surveyed the castle below and frowned.
"This will not be easy," he admitted, a rare concession.
Nevertheless, he had to try.
The siege began the next morning at dawn. The Oda soldiers raised scaling ladders, carried shields, and rushed the walls. The defenders were equally fierce, hurling logs, stones, boiling water, and hot oil. The Oda suffered heavy losses, and the first assault was easily repulsed.
A second, third, fourth assault… each was thrown back. The foot of the walls was littered with Oda corpses, and blood coloured the moat.
Nobunaga could no longer stay in his command tent. He went to the front line and organised an even larger attack. But as soon as he approached the walls, a volley of arrows came from above; a stray shaft grazed his helmet and struck the wooden shield behind him with a ding. His bodyguards, terrified, dragged him back.
"My lord! You must not take such a risk!" Shibata Katsuie's face was white.
Nobunaga pushed his men aside, brushed the dust from his clothes, and sneered. "It's nothing. I'm still far from death."
Yet in his heart he knew that direct assault was not the answer. The defenders of Ōkōchi Castle were far more stubborn than he had expected. Kitabatake Tomonori truly lived up to his reputation.
The siege dragged on, day after day, week after week. The Oda attacked in relays; the defenders held their positions. The armies remained locked in stalemate beneath Ōkōchi Castle. Oda casualties mounted, and Nobunaga's expression grew darker.
Forty days. Fifty days. Sixty days—two full months.
Provisions began to run low, and morale started to slip. The soldiers were exhausted, the camp filled with sick and wounded. Encouraged by his retainers to withdraw and try again the next year, Nobunaga stubbornly shook his head. "Withdraw? Then all our efforts so far will be wasted. If Kitabatake Tomonori sees us retreat, he will never surrender again."
After much thought, he decided to change tactics.
In the tenth month of Eiroku 12, Nobunaga sent an envoy into the castle with a proposal for peace. The terms were simple: the Kitabatake would stop resisting, and one of Nobunaga's sons would be adopted into the Kitabatake as heir. In return, the Oda would preserve the Kitabatake's domains and family name.
Inside the castle, Kitabatake Tomonori convened his retainers for three days of debate. Some urged continued resistance, pointing out that the castle still had two months of provisions and that the Oda army was exhausted; holding out might yet bring victory. But most argued for peace—even if they held Ōkōchi Castle, the Kitabatake would be devastated, and Oda Nobunaga's power far exceeded theirs. If they did not yield now, he would come again.
In the end, Kitabatake Tomonori accepted the peace.
In the eleventh month of Eiroku 12, Nobunaga's second son, Chasenmaru, was sent to Ōkōchi Castle, adopted into the Kitabatake, and renamed Kitabatake Nobukatsu. He succeeded to the headship of the Kitabatake, taking up residence at Ōkōchi Castle as the new lord.
Kitabatake Tomonori retired to a life of ease. He laid down his sword, took up a hoe, and grew tea and flowers in the mountains of Ise, content with his lot.
Ise Province had finally been completely incorporated into Oda Nobunaga's domain.
Nobunaga re organised Ise. He placed trusted retainers in command of its castles, abolished all barriers within the province, and encouraged commerce and transport. Merchants flocked to Ise; its ports grew busy; goods from far and wide were traded there, and tax revenues soared.
At the end of Eiroku 12, Oda Nobunaga held a grand banquet at Gifu Castle to celebrate his victories.
Cups clinked, laughter filled the hall. Shibata Katsuie, flushed with wine, pounded the table and sang an Owari folk song. Niwa Nagahide sat by, smiling, occasionally picking up a bite of food. Kinoshita Hideyoshi bustled about, toasting each retainer and offering auspicious words. An envoy from Tokugawa Ieyasu (who could not attend in person) presented a congratulatory letter and lavish gifts.
Seated at the head of the hall, wine cup in hand, Nobunaga looked at the scene and felt a strange emotion rising within him.
Not long ago, he had been the ridiculed "Great Fool of Owari," clinging to the tiny Shobata Castle, disdained even by his own retainers. Now he ruled wide domains—Owari, Mino, Ise, northern Ōmi, southern Ōmi, Settsu, Kawachi, Yamato, Tajima, Yamashiro, and more. From Gifu Castle he commanded the realm, and even the court treated him with deference.
But he was not satisfied. Far from it.
His gaze passed over the feasting, over the walls of Gifu Castle, over the mountains and rivers, to farther places—Echizen, Kaga, Noto, Etchū, Shinano, Kōzuke, Musashi, Sagami, Izu, Suruga, Tōtōmi, Mikawa, Owari, Mino, Ōmi… The names flashed through his mind like pieces on a vast chessboard.
He intended to finish that game in his lifetime.
Soon after the banquet, Nobunaga visited Kyoto to pay respects to Ashikaga Yoshiaki. It was a courtesy call, but also a political declaration—Look, Lord Shōgun, I have conquered more lands; your "realm" has grown. Yoshiaki understood well; he spoke soothingly and awarded Nobunaga several imperial articles.
After a few days in Kyoto, Nobunaga returned to Gifu Castle.
Word spread far. The Ōtomo of Kyūshū—Ōtomo Sōrin—and the Ukita of Bizen—Ukita Naoie—sent envoys with congratulatory letters and gifts, expressing admiration and respect for Nobunaga's rise. These lords were shrewd; they could see that the future realm likely belonged to Oda Nobunaga. Better to show goodwill now than be forced to submit later.
Nobunaga gladly accepted their overtures and sent generous gifts in return.
But to the northeast of the capital, one man remained utterly unimpressed by Oda Nobunaga.
Asakura Yoshikage.
Asakura Yoshikage, daimyō of Echizen Province, was the eleventh head of the Asakura clan. He was a bundle of contradictions—cultured yet stubborn, intelligent yet shortsighted. He was a master of waka, nō theatre, and tea ceremony. At his castle of Ichijōdani in Echizen, he built a cultural capital that rivalled Kyoto, attracting many court nobles, monks, and literati. Yet politically he lacked vision, clinging stubbornly to the old tradition that "the Asakura of Echizen bow to no outsider," and regarding any attempt to encroach upon Echizen with deep hostility.
Oda Nobunaga had repeatedly sent envoys to Asakura Yoshikage, proposing an alliance to maintain order in the capital region. Yoshikage always received them politely, gave return gifts, but never signed the treaty. He neither clearly refused nor clearly accepted, just dragged on until Nobunaga lost patience.
Ashikaga Yoshiaki, too, was unhappy with Yoshikage. During his wanderings, Yoshiaki had taken refuge with the Asakura, living in Echizen for a time. Though Yoshikage had sheltered him, he had never lifted a finger to restore Yoshiaki as shōgun. Yoshiaki harboured a long standing grudge and now, having become shōgun himself, wanted to use Nobunaga's sword to teach the "ungrateful" Yoshikage a lesson.
In the first month of Eiroku 13 (1570), Ashikaga Yoshiaki, in his capacity as shōgun, issued a command to Oda Nobunaga: "Attack Asakura Yoshikage."
The justification was that Asakura Yoshikage had repeatedly refused to come to the capital to pay homage to the shōgun, defying the shogunate's orders—an act of disloyalty and injustice, deserving of punishment.
Nobunaga received the order with satisfaction. He had long disliked Asakura Yoshikage—that pretentious figure who neither surrendered nor allied, just kept him in an uncomfortable limbo. Better to crush him once and for all.
Nobunaga immediately issued a mobilisation order, summoning his lords to discuss the campaign. Troops began to gather from Owari, Mino, Ise, Ōmi, Settsu, Kawachi, Yamato, Tajima… Provisions were moved, warships repaired.
At Hamamatsu Castle in Tōtōmi Province, Tokugawa Ieyasu received Nobunaga's order. He read the document, was silent for a moment, then said to his retainers, "Prepare the troops. Lord Nobunaga is going to attack the Asakura. We cannot be absent."
He personally led three thousand picked soldiers from Hamamatsu, marching day and night toward Mino.
In the fourth month of Eiroku 13, Oda Nobunaga held a farewell ceremony at Gifu Castle. He wore his gold brown nanban dō gusoku, a black lacquered helmet, a tachi at his waist, and stood on a high platform. Below him, the soldiers massed in dark ranks; banners flapped, spears and swords bristled.
"Soldiers!" Nobunaga shouted. "Asakura Yoshikage's disloyalty is known to all. He refuses to come to the capital, defies the shogunate, and disrespects the court. Today, by order of the shōgun, I, Oda Nobunaga, will punish this traitor! In this battle, we must win. There is no room for defeat!"
"Victory! Victory! Victory!" Thirty thousand soldiers roared, shaking the land.
In late April of Eiroku 13, Oda Nobunaga led thirty thousand troops from Gifu Castle, passing through Ōmi and entering Echizen.
Echizen was a large province on the Hokurikudō, with fertile fields and abundant produce. The Asakura had ruled there for five generations, with deep roots and popular support. Ichijōdani Castle was the political, economic, and cultural centre of Echizen, packed with mansions and temples. As the saying went, "The Kyoto of the Asakura is Ichijōdani."
Once the Oda army entered Echizen, it swept all before it. The Asakura's forward posts fell one after another under the Oda onslaught.
Nobunaga ordered Kinoshita Hideyoshi to attack Tezutsu Castle.
Tezutsu Castle stood in the mountains of southern Echizen, a naturally strong position and a key Asakura defensive point in the south. Its commander, Magara Naotaka, was one of the Asakura's fiercest warriors. He was said to be six feet tall, immensely strong, wielding a two handed great sword that weighed three kan (about 11 kg), and could cut through a pine tree as thick as a bowl.
Hideyoshi brought his forces to the foot of Tezutsu Castle and looked up at the fortress on the hillside. His heart sank. The terrain was extremely difficult; only a winding mountain path led to the gate, so narrow that two men could barely walk abreast. The defenders on the walls had arquebuses and bows, looking down on the Oda troops' every move.
A direct assault would be too costly. Hideyoshi decided to use cunning.
He sent scouts up the mountain; they discovered a cliff that, though steep, could be climbed. Hideyoshi selected a hundred agile soldiers, and under cover of darkness they scaled the cliff, climbing to the rear of Tezutsu Castle.
At dawn, Hideyoshi's main force launched a feigned attack from the front, drawing the garrison's attention. The castle's defenders concentrated on the front walls. Meanwhile, the hundred soldiers who had climbed the mountain broke in from the rear and set fire to the castle's granaries. When the garrison realised their rear was ablaze, panic broke out. Magara Naotaka shouted in rage and led his personal guards to the rear, engaging the hundred Oda soldiers in fierce hand to hand combat. But while he was busy in the rear, the front weakened. Hideyoshi's main force took the opportunity to raise scaling ladders, surged over the walls, and broke through the gate.
Tezutsu Castle fell. Magara Naotaka was cut down in the melee, suffering dozens of wounds.
The fall of Tezutsu Castle opened the road to Ichijōdani. Nobunaga was overjoyed, praised Hideyoshi without end, rewarded him with fifty ryō of gold on the spot, and ordered him to continue as vanguard, pressing north.
The Oda army's morale soared. The soldiers marched north singing victory songs, their banners held high. Ichijōdani came into sight; Asakura Yoshikage's doom seemed imminent.
But at this critical moment, news reached the front that Oda Nobunaga would never have dreamed of—
Azai Nagamasa had betrayed him.
Azai Nagamasa—Nobunaga's brother in law, his ally in northern Ōmi—had stabbed him in the back.
A scout risked his life to deliver the report: Azai Nagamasa had led his army out of northern Ōmi and was advancing toward the Oda's vital supply base at Kinugasaki Castle, deep behind the front. Kinugasaki Castle held mountains of food, weapons, and equipment. If the Azai took it, the Oda army would be cut off from supply. Thirty thousand soldiers would be trapped in the mountains of Echizen, with the Asakura ahead and the Azai behind—no way forward, no way back.
When Nobunaga heard the news, he was in his tent discussing plans to take Ichijōdani with his retainers. His face went black. The teacup in his hand fell and shattered on the ground.
Silence filled the tent.
Nobunaga stood up abruptly, his hands braced on the table, knuckles cracking. His chest heaved, his breath came in harsh rasps. Everyone expected an explosion—denouncing Azai Nagamasa as ungrateful, as a traitor, as worse than an animal.
But Nobunaga did not speak.
He just stood there, silent for a long time. His face showed no anger, no grief—only a terrifying calm.
Then he said one word.
"Withdraw."
A single word, spoken more powerfully than any rage.
On the twenty eighth day of the fourth month of Eiroku 13, Oda Nobunaga ordered the entire army to retreat.
The order caused an uproar. The soldiers did not understand—Ichijōdani was just ahead, Asakura Yoshikage was trembling, victory was within reach. Why retreat?
Nobunaga did not explain. He merely waved his hand and repeated the word: "Withdraw."
Shibata Katsuie and Sakuma Nobumori grasped the gravity of the situation immediately. They quickly organised the withdrawal, sending the seriously wounded and the baggage train ahead while the main force formed a rearguard to meet any pursuit.
Kinoshita Hideyoshi volunteered to command the rearguard.
"My lord," Hideyoshi knelt before Nobunaga, forehead to the ground, "Kinugasaki Castle is no longer safe. The Azai may arrive at any moment. Let Hideyoshi stay behind. Even if I must give my life, I will secure your line of retreat."
Nobunaga looked at him, was silent for a moment, then nodded.
"Hideyoshi," Nobunaga said in a low, hoarse voice, "do not die."
Hideyoshi raised his head, grinned, and showed two rows of white teeth. "Do not worry, my lord. Hideyoshi is tough. He will not die."
The retreat began.
The main Oda army hurried south along the same road they had come. The road was narrow, the mountains high, the forest thick. The soldiers were exhausted, but no one dared stop—the Azai pursuers could be right behind them.
Hideyoshi took three thousand men and stationed them at a defile near Kinugasaki Castle, ready to block the pursuit. He knew this was a fight from which he might not return. The Asakura would come from the north, the Azai from the south; he would be caught between them like a turtle in a jar. But he had no choice—he had to buy time for his lord, even with his own life.
Standing at the defile, Hideyoshi looked toward the northern sky and took a deep breath.
He touched the sword at his waist and said quietly, "Come then, Asakura, Azai. Kinoshita Hideyoshi is waiting for you."
The mountain wind howled, flapping his cloak. In the twilight, his small figure looked especially sturdy.
From far away, the faint sound of war drums came.
That was the Asakura pursuit.