Why did Azai Nagamasa betray Oda Nobunaga? We must go back to the original alliance between the two houses.
In 1567 (Eiroku 10), when Oda Nobunaga proposed to marry his younger sister Oichi to Azai Nagamasa, the two clans had made a secret pact: the Oda would not attack the Asakura.
The friendship between the Asakura and the Azai went back to the time of Nagamasa's grandfather, Azai Sukemasa. In those days, the Azai had just risen from being a minor local clan in northern Ōmi and were still insecure, repeatedly attacked by the Rokkaku of southern Ōmi. At their most desperate moments, it was the Asakura of Echizen who had lent a helping hand, marching troops to drive off the Rokkaku. Without the Asakura, there would be no Azai. Nagamasa had not forgotten this debt.
Thus, when Nobunaga proposed the marriage, though Nagamasa was tempted, he had one worry: Oda Nobunaga was ambitious and would inevitably expand west and north. If he attacked the Asakura in the future, what would the Azai do?
Nobunaga's answer at the time had been straightforward: "What quarrel do I have with the Asakura? Why would I attack them? My lord Nagamasa's friends are my friends. As long as the Asakura do not strike first, I will never set foot in Echizen."
Nagamasa believed him. Not only that, but over the following years he provided considerable aid for Nobunaga's march to the capital—troops, provisions, money, and even personally led his army in the attack on the Rokkaku.
But he had never imagined that Nobunaga could turn his face more quickly than a book leaf.
In the fourth month of Eiroku 13 (1570), Nobunaga, under the pretext that "Asakura Yoshikage has disobeyed the shōgun's orders," launched an invasion of Echizen. When the news reached Odani Castle, Azai Nagamasa was admiring the flowers in his garden. The branch in his hand fell to the ground with a snap, and his face went deathly pale.
"Lord Nobunaga… deceived me," he murmured, his voice full of the pain of betrayal.
His father, Azai Hisamasa (who had retired), was even more furious. Hisamasa had never favoured the Oda marriage, and Nobunaga's breach of faith in attacking the Asakura only confirmed his earlier fears. "Nagamasa! Do you see? Oda Nobunaga is a man who does not keep his word! He attacks the Asakura now, and we will be next! We cannot sit still and wait to die!"
Azai Nagamasa shut himself away for three days and three nights. He saw no one, not even his wife Oichi; the meals she sent were returned untouched. What was he thinking? Was he weighing the pros and cons, or wrestling with his own conscience? No one knows.
On the morning of the fourth day, Nagamasa opened his door. His eyes were bloodshot, his face haggard, but his gaze was firm. He summoned his retainers and announced:
"The Azai hereby sever relations with the Oda. From today, the Asakura are our friends, the Oda our enemies."
The retainers were thrown into an uproar. Some approved, some opposed, most remained silent. But Nagamasa's mind was made up, and no one could move him.
At the same time, another restless spirit also sprang into action—Rokkaku Yoshikata.
The former lord of southern Ōmi, since being driven out of Kannonji Castle, had been hiding deep in the mountains of Kōka, like a wounded beast licking his wounds and waiting for revenge. When he learned that Nobunaga was bogged down in Echizen and that Azai Nagamasa had turned against him, he saw a heaven sent opportunity.
He rallied his old followers, contacted the ninja of Kōka, and emerged from the mountains. His goal was clear: while Oda Nobunaga was pinned down in Echizen, he would join forces with Azai Nagamasa and seize back southern Ōmi.
Rokkaku Yoshikata's envoy rode day and night to Odani Castle. Azai Nagamasa and Rokkaku Yoshikata quickly reached an agreement: the Azai in the north, the Rokkaku in the south—a pincer movement to drive Oda Nobunaga's forces out of Ōmi altogether.
Thus, while Nobunaga was advancing west, his rear burst into flames.
On the twenty seventh day of the fourth month of Eiroku 13, Oda Nobunaga heard for the first time in his camp in Echizen that Azai Nagamasa had betrayed him.
He was studying the map of Ichijōdani with his retainers. Without looking up, he said casually, "Impossible. Nagamasa is my brother in law. He would never betray me."
But when the second, third, and fourth reports came, each pointing to the same fact, Nobunaga finally laid down the map and raised his head.
"Azai Nagamasa… really has turned?" His voice was low, as if speaking to himself.
The scout knelt on the ground, not daring to raise his head. "My lord, it is true. Azai Nagamasa has publicly announced the severance. He is mustering his forces to attack Kinugasaki Castle—our line of supply."
The tent fell deathly silent.
Shibata Katsuie, Sakuma Nobumori, Niwa Nagahide, Kinoshita Hideyoshi—the generals looked at one another, none daring to speak. They all knew the importance of Kinugasaki Castle: it was the Oda army's only supply base in southern Echizen, stockpiled with provisions, ammunition, and equipment for thirty thousand men. If Kinugasaki fell, they would be trapped in the mountains of Echizen, with the Asakura ahead and the Azai behind, with no food and no hope of rescue.
Nobunaga's expression shifted, his fists cracking, his jaw clenched, veins bulging on his forehead. Everyone expected an explosion—denouncing Azai Nagamasa's ingratitude, his treachery, calling him a wolf who could not be tamed.
But Nobunaga did not curse.
He just sat there, motionless as a stone statue, his eyes fixed on Kinugasaki Castle on the map, his gaze sharp as a knife.
After a long time—so long that the air in the tent seemed to solidify—Nobunaga finally spoke, just one word.
"Withdraw."
From that moment on, Nobunaga never spoke Azai Nagamasa's name again. The expression on his face changed from fury to a cold, spine chilling calm.
The Kinugasaki Retreat was the most dangerous operation in Oda Nobunaga's military career.
Thirty thousand soldiers, caught between the Asakura and the Azai—one false move and the entire army would be annihilated.
Nobunaga ordered: all the wounded and the baggage train would withdraw first; elite troops would hold the rear. The retreat route must be fast and secret, avoiding the enemy's notice. The villages along the way were to be bypassed; the troops must not disturb the people, lest they alert Asakura scouts.
Kinoshita Hideyoshi volunteered to command the rearguard.
"My lord," Hideyoshi knelt, his forehead striking the ground heavily, "let Hideyoshi stay at Kinugasaki with three thousand men to cover your retreat. Even if I have only one breath left, I will not let the Azai overtake you."
Nobunaga looked down at him. This low born little man was now radiating a presence that commanded respect. Nobunaga was silent for a moment, then nodded.
"Hideyoshi, do not die."
"Do not worry, my lord. Hideyoshi is tough. He will not die."
Nobunaga turned and left the tent. He did not look back, striding purposefully toward his warhorse. Behind him, Hideyoshi remained kneeling, his forehead pressed to the ground, not rising for a long time.
On the twenty eighth day of the fourth month, Nobunaga led the main army out of Kinugasaki Castle. Hideyoshi stayed behind with three thousand men in this doomed castle, about to be swallowed by the flames of war.
Along the retreat route, Nobunaga was silent. He rode his horse, eyes forward, face expressionless. The soldiers behind him were grim; no one spoke, no one coughed; even the horses' hooves were wrapped in cloth to muffle the sound.
The mountain roads were rough, the night dark. Torchlight flickered in the dense forest, illuminating tired, nervous faces. The soldiers walked in fear, their hearts racing at every rustle of leaves. They knew that at any moment, Asakura or Azai ambushers might burst out of the darkness.
But luck was with them. They encountered no resistance at all.
Hideyoshi's delaying tactics had worked. He had laid a false front around Kinugasaki Castle, lighting many campfires and planting many banners, leading Azai scouts to believe that the Oda main force was still inside. Azai Nagamasa, not daring to attack rashly, hesitated for an entire day. That single day gave the retreat the precious time it needed.
On the first day of the fifth month, Oda Nobunaga's army safely returned to Kyoto.
At the gate of the capital, he turned and looked north. The sky was overcast; a storm seemed about to break.
"Azai Nagamasa," Nobunaga finally spoke the name, his voice low and cold, "you will regret this."
After returning to Kyoto, Nobunaga stayed only a few days. He left a portion of his soldiers to guard the capital, turned over the defence of Nijō Shin'ei to Ashikaga Yoshiaki's personal guards, and hurried back to Gifu Castle.
He needed time to rest and, more importantly, to gather more troops.
In late May, Nobunaga convened a large military council at Gifu Castle. Attending were the core of the Oda clan: Shibata Katsuie, Sakuma Nobumori, Niwa Nagahide, Kinoshita Hideyoshi, Akechi Mitsuhide, Hayashi Tōkatsu, Maeda Toshiie, and others. Tokugawa Ieyasu also sent an envoy, pledging full support.
Nobunaga spread out a new campaign map on the table, showing every castle, river, and hill in Ōmi.
"Azai Nagamasa has betrayed us," Nobunaga said bluntly. "Rokkaku Yoshikata is also stirring. These two nails must be removed. And quickly—the longer we delay, the more enemies will join, and the messier things will become."
He gave detailed orders: garrison Shiga Castle, Nagara Castle, Chōkō ji Castle, Azuchi Castle—all strategic points in Ōmi that guarded the roads to Kyoto. Holding them would block Rokkaku Yoshikata from the south.
He also ordered Shibata Katsuie to march out and engage Rokkaku Yoshikata's forces near Yasu River. Though the Rokkaku troops had decent morale, they were a ragtag army from the mountains, no match for Oda veterans. Shibata Katsuie, wielding his great spear and leading from the front, routed them in half a day. Rokkaku Yoshikata once again fled into the mountains of Kōka.
The southern front was temporarily stabilised.
But the northern front remained grave. Azai Nagamasa was firmly entrenched in Odani Castle—high walls, deep moats, ample provisions. He could not be taken in a single stroke. Worse, Asakura Yoshikage, though cowering inside Ichijōdani, could at any time send troops south to reinforce the Azai.
Nobunaga decided to wait no longer.
In the sixth month of Genki 1 (1570), Oda Nobunaga led twenty three thousand troops from Gifu Castle straight into northern Ōmi.
Tokugawa Ieyasu, with eight thousand picked soldiers from Hamamatsu Castle in Tōtōmi, joined him. The two armies met in Mino; their combined force exceeded thirty thousand (famously claimed to be fifty thousand), and they advanced into northern Ōmi.
At Odani Castle, Azai Nagamasa received word of Nobunaga's approach. His face was grave. He had only about five thousand men, and even with Asakura reinforcements, perhaps just over ten thousand. Against the Oda Tokugawa alliance, the odds were heavily against him.
"Hold the castle," Nagamasa told his retainers. "Odani is strong, with ample food and weapons. The Oda have come a long way; their supply lines are long. If we can drag the campaign into winter, they will withdraw on their own."
But the Asakura reinforcement commander thought differently.
Asakura Yoshikage sent his younger brother, Asakura Kagetake, with eight thousand men. Kagetake was impatient. He thought Nagamasa too conservative and wanted to strike first to show the Oda a thing or two.
"You hold your castle," Kagetake said to Nagamasa. "I will fight my battles. Asakura samurai do not hide behind walls."
On the twenty eighth day of the sixth month, just before dawn.
The two armies drew up on opposite banks of the Ane River. The river was not wide, its current gentle, the water clear. But that day, its clear waters would turn red with blood.
The Oda army arrayed on the west bank. On the right were Shibata Katsuie and Sakuma Nobumori; on the left, Kinoshita Hideyoshi and Niwa Nagahide; the centre was commanded by Nobunaga himself. Total Oda forces: about twenty thousand.
The Tokugawa army deployed on the east bank. On the right was Ieyasu's own contingent; on the left were the Mikawa veterans—Sakakibara Yasumasa, Honda Tadakatsu, Sakai Tadatsugu, and others. Total Tokugawa: about eight thousand.
Opposite them, the combined Azai Asakura force of about thirteen thousand occupied the high ground on the east bank, taking advantage of the terrain. Azai Nagamasa's troops were on the right; Asakura Kagetake's on the left; the two wings were separated by a deep valley, mutually supporting.
The battle began at daybreak.
Shibata Katsuie led his men across the river first, charging straight at the Azai front line. The Azai arquebusiers fired in volleys; lead bullets rained down, inflicting heavy losses on Katsuie's force. But Katsuie did not flinch. Wielding his great spear, he led from the front, and his soldiers, inspired by his courage, shouted and pressed forward.
A desperate hand to hand fight erupted by the river. The clash of tachi, the screech of spears piercing armour, the screams of the wounded, the roar of commanders—all mingled in a deafening din.
The battle raged all morning without a clear result. The Oda attacks were ferocious, but the Azai defence was equally tenacious. The two sides fought back and forth along the riverbank; casualties mounted, and the river began to redden.
Then, on the east bank, the Tokugawa forces moved.
Sakakibara Yasumasa led two thousand men around the Asakura left flank and struck from the rear. The Asakura, caught off guard, fell into disarray. Honda Tadakatsu seized the moment to charge with his cavalry straight into the Asakura centre, his famed spear "Dragonfly Cutter" flashing, irresistible.
Honda Tadakatsu was then twenty two, the youngest of Tokugawa's fierce generals. Six feet tall, full of vigour, riding a black horse, clad in red armour, his antler crested helmet gleaming in the sun, he plunged into the Asakura ranks like a tiger among sheep, cutting down one enemy after another.
Asakura Kagetake, seeing his flank broken and his centre scattered, turned pale with fright. He tried to organise a counterattack, but Kinoshita Hideyoshi and Niwa Nagahide had already crossed the river and attacked violently on the left. Pressed from three sides, the Asakura could no longer hold.
Kagetake made a decision—retreat.
At his command, the Asakura army collapsed entirely. Soldiers threw away their armour and weapons and fled north, scrambling over one another. Some drowned in the Ane River; some lost their way in the forests; many were cut down by pursuing Oda Tokugawa troops.
Seeing the Asakura rout, Azai Nagamasa knew the battle was lost. With a long sigh, he ordered a general withdrawal. The Azai retreated fighting, suffering heavy losses, but managed to save the core of their army and fall back to Odani Castle.
The Battle of Anegawa ended in a decisive victory for the Oda Tokugawa alliance.
The Azai Asakura lost several thousand dead and hundreds captured, their strength severely crippled. Nobunaga captured numerous battle flags, suits of armour, weapons, and several Asakura generals.
But Nobunaga did not press the pursuit. His own troops were exhausted and had taken significant casualties; they needed rest. Moreover, Odani Castle was too strong to storm without proper preparation; a direct assault would only throw away lives.
Nobunaga walked across the battlefield, looking at the corpses and the blood. He was silent for a moment.
"Azai Nagamasa, Asakura Yoshikage," he said quietly, "you lost this battle. Next time, I will take your heads."
On the twenty ninth day of the sixth month, Nobunaga ordered a retreat. He went back to Gifu Castle to rest and prepare for the next campaign. Tokugawa Ieyasu returned to Hamamatsu Castle. At parting, Ieyasu said, "Lord Nobunaga, rest assured. The Tokugawa will always be the Oda's ally."
Nobunaga clapped him on the shoulder. "Ieyasu, you are a good man. When I conquer the realm, I will give you the best piece of land."
Ieyasu smiled wryly and made no reply.
After the Battle of Anegawa, though Azai Nagamasa and Asakura Yoshikage had been badly hurt, they had not been eliminated. They withdrew to their own castles, licked their wounds, rested, and waited for another chance.
Nobunaga knew the war was not over. But what he did not anticipate was that his enemies were not only in the north. Trouble also erupted in the west.
While Nobunaga was fighting the Azai and Asakura at Anegawa, the Miyoshi Triumvirate in the west sprang to life again.
Miyoshi Nagayasu, Miyoshi Masakatsu, and Miyoshi Nagaharu—they were like cockroaches that could not be killed. Every time Nobunaga defeated them, they fled to Awa or Awaji, and soon afterwards returned with a new army.
In the seventh month of Genki 1 (1570), taking advantage of the fact that Nobunaga's main forces were concentrated in northern Ōmi, the Triumvirate crossed from Awaji and landed again in Settsu.
This time, their attack was unusually fierce.
The Miyoshi vanguard drove straight at Ikeda Katsumasa's castle. Katsumasa, caught off guard, fought back desperately, but was outnumbered and defeated. He lost his castle and barely escaped into the nearby mountains.
With soaring morale, the Miyoshi pushed eastward, their vanguard aiming directly at Kyoto.
At Nijō Shin'ei, Ashikaga Yoshiaki heard the alarming news and nearly jumped from his seat. He immediately wrote a letter and sent a fast messenger to Gifu Castle, begging Nobunaga for help.
When Nobunaga received the plea, he was nursing an injury at Gifu—at Anegawa, he had fallen from his horse and sprained his ankle, walking with a limp. But as soon as he read the letter, he sprang to his feet, as if the pain had vanished.
"Miyoshi Nagayasu! You dare come again!" Nobunaga crumpled the letter and threw it to the ground.
He immediately issued a mobilisation order, calling up troops from Mino, Owari, and Mikawa, and rushed to Kyoto. Though Tokugawa Ieyasu had just returned from Anegawa, upon receiving Nobunaga's summons he marched again without hesitation.
In late July, Oda Nobunaga entered Kyoto with a large army. He first paid respects to Ashikaga Yoshiaki to ensure the shōgun's safety, then deployed a tight defence around the capital. At Nijō Shin'ei, he also received Ikeda Katsumasa, who knelt before him, his head bowed in shame.
Nobunaga looked at him without rebuke, simply saying, "Katsumasa, you lost this time. Win the next. Do not take it to heart."
Ikeda Katsumasa's tears burst forth, and he struck his head three times on the floor.
A few days later, good news arrived: the lords of Harima and Kii sent reinforcements. Some genuinely supported Nobunaga; some feared his name; some simply wanted to share in the spoils. Whatever their reasons, their arrival greatly strengthened Nobunaga's army.
Nobunaga pressed his advantage, leading his forces directly toward the Miyoshi strongholds at Noda and Fukushima.
Noda and Fukushima were two positions in eastern Settsu where the Miyoshi had built solid defences, determined to make a last stand. Nobunaga observed them and formed his plan.
Instead of attacking immediately, he first sent envoys to demand surrender. But the Triumvirate were defiant. They swore to fight to the last man and never bow to Oda Nobunaga.
Just as the two sides were facing off, arrow on string, an unpredictable factor intervened.
The Ikkō sect of Hongan ji entered the war.
The Ikkō sect (Jōdo Shinshū) had an enormous following among peasants, merchants, and low ranking samurai. Their head temple, Hongan ji, was located at Yamashina near Kyoto (it later moved to Ōsaka). The abbot of Hongan ji, Kennyo, was a man of religious authority and political ambition.
Kennyo had always had good relations with the Miyoshi. When the Miyoshi controlled the capital region, they gave Hongan ji special privileges and financial support. Now that the Miyoshi were in trouble, Kennyo felt he should return the favour. More importantly, he saw clearly that Oda Nobunaga, a strong ruler, would sooner or later encroach upon Ikkō interests. Better to strike first than to wait.
Kennyo issued an "Ofumi" (a letter of exhortation), calling upon Ikkō followers throughout the country to rise against Oda Nobunaga. Suddenly, in Settsu, Kawachi, Izumi, Ōmi, Echizen, and elsewhere, Ikkō adherents took up arms, forming "Ikkō ikki" and joining the Miyoshi.
The situation turned sharply.
Nobunaga was now caught between two fires: the Azai and Asakura in the north, the Miyoshi and Ikkō in the west. His forces were limited; he could not be everywhere. If he continued to fight in Settsu, Kyoto might be attacked from the north; if he withdrew to Kyoto, the Miyoshi and Ikkō would pursue.
Nobunaga gritted his teeth and made a decision.
"Withdraw."
He pulled his army back to Kyoto.
This was his second "retreat." The Kinugasaki retreat had been against the Azai and Asakura; the Noda Fukushima retreat was against the Miyoshi and Ikkō. For a great warlord, being forced to retreat twice in a row was unprecedented in Nobunaga's career.
But he was not discouraged.
"The more enemies, the stronger I am," Nobunaga told his retainers at Nijō Shin'ei. "If they didn't fear me, they wouldn't band together against me. The more impatient they are, the more patient I can be."
That was what he said, but his heart was not as light as his words.
It never rains but it pours.
Just as Nobunaga was struggling with the Miyoshi and Ikkō, a new threat emerged from behind—this time, monks.
During the Muromachi period, Buddhism and politics were closely intertwined. Mount Hiei's Enryaku ji was the centre of Japanese Buddhism, called "Sanmon" (the Mountain Gate). It commanded tens of thousands of warrior monks and had immense power; even emperors and shōguns treated it with respect. Other great temples like Kōya san, Kōfuku ji, and Hongan ji also had armed forces and were influential in both religious and political affairs.
Azai Nagamasa and Asakura Yoshikage had always enjoyed good relations with these temples. Nagamasa, having ruled northern Ōmi for years, had been extremely generous to the monks, exempting them from taxes and donating lands and goods. Yoshikage was famously "devout to Buddhism"; his Ichijōdani castle town was crowded with temples and monks who enjoyed many privileges.
In contrast, Nobunaga's attitude toward the temples was far less friendly. He allowed his generals to seize temple lands and property, and tacitly permitted soldiers to harass monks. Akechi Mitsuhide in particular, a pragmatist, during his campaign in Ōmi had confiscated supplies and money from temples on the grounds that "military supplies are short and the temples are rich; it is only right to take from them."
These actions made the monks hate Oda Nobunaga.
In the ninth month of Genki 1 (1570), the monks of Enryaku ji could no longer hold back. They secretly allied with Azai Nagamasa and Asakura Yoshikage, planning to march on Kyoto.
Their plan: the Azai and Asakura would strike from the north, while the warrior monks of Mount Hiei would attack from the east, seizing Kyoto in a pincer.
On the sixteenth day of the ninth month, the allied forces launched their attack.
Azai and Asakura advanced south from northern Ōmi, breaking through Oda defences at Shiga, Nagara, and other points. The warrior monks descended from Mount Hiei, directly threatening eastern Kyoto—Yamashina, Daigo, and beyond. The outnumbered Oda garrisons collapsed one after another, and panic spread throughout the capital.
Ashikaga Yoshiaki again sent an urgent plea to Nobunaga. This time, he was not writing from Nijō Shin'ei; he had fled with his bodyguards into the Imperial Palace, begging the Emperor for protection.
Nobunaga was then recuperating at Gifu Castle. When he received the news, he sneered.
"First Azai, then Asakura, now even the monks are crawling out. Fine, very fine."
This time he did not rush. He first reinforced Kyoto's western defences to guard against the Miyoshi, then personally led the main army from Gifu straight to Ōmi.
On the twenty second day of the ninth month, Oda Nobunaga's army encountered the Azai Asakura forces at Sakamoto in Ōmi.
Sakamoto lay at the foot of Mount Hiei, along the main road to Kyoto. The terrain was flat, suitable for large scale battle, quite different from the narrow river valley at Anegawa.
Nobunaga divided his army into three columns: left under Shibata Katsuie, right under Kinoshita Hideyoshi, centre under his own command. All three attacked simultaneously, with overwhelming force.
Although the Azai Asakura were outnumbered, after the Battle of Anegawa they had become familiar with Oda tactics. Nagamasa and Kagetake had devised a defence: dense arquebus volleys to break the Oda charge, obstacles and trenches to hinder cavalry, and large gunpowder charges to be detonated when the Oda attacked.
But they overlooked one thing—morale.
The Azai Asakura forces had been fighting for months, with dwindling supplies and exhausted troops. The Oda, though they too had fought several battles, had always been "withdrawing" rather than "routed," so their morale remained high. Moreover, Nobunaga's personal presence boosted their spirits.
The battle began at noon. Shibata Katsuie struck the Azai left, Hideyoshi turned the right, and Nobunaga's centre crashed straight forward. The three pronged assault threw the enemy into confusion. Azai Nagamasa tried to organise a counterattack, but Nobunaga's arquebusiers had already seized the high ground and rained fire down on them, keeping the Azai pinned down.
Asakura Kagetake was the first to flee. Once he ran, his soldiers ran too. The Azai were isolated and soon routed.
Both enemy armies fled north. Nobunaga did not pursue. He halted at Sakamoto and looked northeast toward Mount Hiei.
The mountain was right in front of him.
Although the warrior monks of Enryaku ji had not directly participated in the battle of Sakamoto, their presence was a thorn in Nobunaga's side. Unless that thorn was removed, Kyoto could never be truly safe.
Nobunaga sent an envoy up the mountain to negotiate with the monks.
The messenger, carrying a letter in Nobunaga's own hand, climbed Mount Hiei. The letter was simple, offering three choices:
First, side with Oda Nobunaga. If the monks would send troops to help the Oda, Nobunaga promised to return all previously confiscated temple lands and grant additional lands.
Second, remain neutral. If the monks would not fight but also would not help the Azai and Asakura, Nobunaga would let bygones be bygones and maintain the status quo.
Third, become an enemy of Oda Nobunaga. If the monks insisted on allying with the Azai and Asakura to oppose the Oda, Nobunaga would set fire to the mountain and raze Mount Hiei to the ground.
Inside the Konpon Chūdō (the central hall of Enryaku ji), the monk leaders heard the letter read aloud. High ranking clerics in splendid robes, some wearing golden crowns and holding crystal rosaries, sat in grim silence.
After the reading, the hall was still.
The head of Enryaku ji, Gon Sōjō Kakukai, was the first to speak. "Oda Nobunaga is a mere warrior. Who does he think he is? He dares threaten Mount Hiei?"
Another high monk added, "Mount Hiei is the sacred mountain that protects the nation, the place where emperors and shōguns pray. Burn it? He would not dare."
"He would not dare," many agreed.
The monks' attitude was adamant. They rejected all of Nobunaga's proposals, neither surrendering nor remaining neutral. They even declared that Oda Nobunaga was an "Enemy of the Buddha," and that anyone who helped him would be "acting against the Buddha."
The envoy returned to Nobunaga's headquarters with this answer. Nobunaga listened in silence, then spoke a single word that shocked everyone.
"Burn."
In the tenth month of Genki 1 (1570), Oda Nobunaga ordered the attack on Mount Hiei.
He mustered tens of thousands of troops, surrounding the mountain from every direction. He established strongpoints at the mountain's foot, cutting off all contact—supply roads, water, messages—all severed.
The monks and warrior monks of Mount Hiei were not initially alarmed. They thought Nobunaga was bluffing, that he would never dare to actually attack. The mountain had granaries, wells, and arsenals; they could hold out for months. Some even mocked him as a "country bumpkin who does not know his place."
But as the days passed, the siege tightened. The granaries were emptied, the wells began to run dry—cut off from the streams below, the mountain's water supply proved inadequate. Panic spread among the monks, and the warrior monks grew agitated.
Some advocated surrender, some wanted to break out, some insisted on fighting to the end. But no faction could gain a majority. Though Enryaku ji was the centre of Japanese Buddhism, the interests of its various halls, pagodas, and subtemples did not align, and no one could persuade the others.
In early November, Nobunaga lost patience.
He ordered a general assault.
Tens of thousands of troops attacked from all sides simultaneously. Torches, fire arrows, gunpowder charges—anything that could burn was used to set fire to the buildings.
That day, the wind was strong.
The wind fanned the flames, and the fire spread rapidly. The Konpon Chūdō, the lecture hall, the belfry, the sutra repository, the three pagodas, the sixteen valleys—one after another, the revered temples went up in flames. Ancient forests turned to charcoal. Thick smoke blotted out the sun. The great fire raged for three days and three nights, reducing Mount Hiei to a scorched wasteland.
Monks, warrior monks, women, children, artisans—thousands perished in the flames. Some were burned, some killed, some leaped from cliffs to their deaths. The rivers ran black, and the stench of burning flesh drifted on the wind, reaching as far as Kyoto.
Nobunaga stood at the foot of the mountain, watching the inferno, his face expressionless.
Behind him, Shibata Katsuie, Kinoshita Hideyoshi, Akechi Mitsuhide, and the other generals were pale, their lips trembling. They had seen death on the battlefield, seen massacres during sieges, but never such a ghastly sight—an entire mountain ablaze.
One or two thought to speak, but when they saw Nobunaga's icy profile, the words died in their throats.
When the fire died out, Mount Hiei had become a mountain of death.
Everywhere were blackened ruins and charred corpses, the stench of decay lingering for a long time. The sacred mountain, venerated for centuries, had in one night become a hell.
The news shook the realm.
Some called Oda Nobunaga an "Enemy of the Buddha," the "Demon King of the Sixth Heaven," a "monster in human form." Others praised him for "destroying superstition and eradicating evil." Most remained silent, unsure how to judge what he had done.
What did Nobunaga himself say? Afterwards, he said to his retainers: "Monks are also human. If a man tries to kill me, I kill him. Whether he is a monk or a commoner makes no difference."
Akechi Mitsuhide later recorded this sentence in his diary.
After Mount Hiei was burned, the resistance of the monks temporarily ceased. Azai Nagamasa and Asakura Yoshikage lost a major ally and found themselves in an even more difficult position. Nobunaga, having eliminated the threat to his east, could now turn his full attention to the Miyoshi and the Ikkō in the west.
But in the hearts of many people, the image of Oda Nobunaga had undergone a subtle change.
The young man once ridiculed as the "Great Fool of Owari" was no longer a fool. He was—a demon.