The aftershocks of Oda Nobunaga's burning of Mount Hiei and pacification of the capital region had not yet subsided when news arrived from distant Kai Province that truly unsettled him.
Takeda Harunobu—known to the world as Takeda Shingen—was sharpening his swords and preparing to march west.
Takeda Harunobu, daimyō of Kai, was the foremost strategist of the Warring States period. He had mastered Sun Tzu's Art of War and embroidered its four famous phrases—"Swift as the wind, silent as the forest, fierce as fire, immovable as a mountain"—on his battle banner, which became the hereditary standard of the Takeda. He was a master of cavalry tactics; his red armoured akazonae had rampaged across the Kantō for decades, invincible, earning him the name "Tiger of Kai."
In tactics, he had fought the "Dragon of Echigo," Uesugi Kenshin, four times at Kawanakajima. Though the outcomes were mixed, he had never been outclassed.
In strategy, he played a masterful diplomatic game—allying with the Hōjō, befriending the Imagawa, swallowing Shinano, pressuring the Uesugi—and expanded Takeda territory several times over.
In planning, every campaign was meticulously calculated—provisions, troop numbers, terrain, weather, enemy morale, the sincerity of allies—nothing was overlooked.
In Nobunaga's eyes, Takeda Harunobu was the only adversary he found truly "difficult." Imagawa Yoshimoto, though with many soldiers, was arrogant and easy to defeat. The Miyoshi Triumvirate, though cunning, were limited in strength and not to be feared. Asakura Yoshikage and Azai Nagamasa, though tenacious, were shortsighted and would eventually be swept away. But Takeda Harunobu was different. He was too complete, too perfect; his flaws were almost impossible to find.
In the main hall of Gifu Castle, Nobunaga and his retainers sat around a map, discussing Takeda movements. Shibata Katsuie pointed at Shinano Province and said grimly, "For years, Takeda Harunobu has coveted Shinano. The Murakami, the Ogasawara, the Suwa—he has swallowed them one by one. Most of Shinano is now in Takeda hands. His next step will be to reach into Kōzuke and Hida, and then advance west."
Kinoshita Hideyoshi stroked his chin and added, "If Takeda Harunobu moves west, the first to feel his blow will not be us, but Tokugawa Ieyasu. Lord Ieyasu, in Tōtōmi and Mikawa, stands directly in Takeda's path."
Nobunaga said nothing. He stared at the Takeda territories on the map, his brow slightly furrowed. The Takeda domain now spanned Kai, Shinano, Suruga, and western Kōzuke—like a giant eagle with outspread wings, looking down on Echigo to the north, threatening the Tōkaidō to the south, and eyeing Mino and Owari to the west. Oda territory—Owari, Mino, Ise, Ōmi—was separated from the Takeda sphere by only a few mountains.
"Takeda Harunobu," Nobunaga finally spoke, his voice low, "is a difficult man to deal with."
The air in the hall grew heavy.
Nobunaga was famously fearless. At Okehazama, facing Imagawa Yoshimoto's forty thousand, he had laughed. When he burned Mount Hiei, facing the condemnation of monks everywhere, he had not blinked. Surrounded on all sides by the Asakura, Azai, Miyoshi, and Ikkō, he had still sat calmly in his garden admiring the cherry blossoms.
But this time, facing Takeda Harunobu, Nobunaga showed a rare gravity.
It was not cowardice—it was the clear knowledge that this was a war he could not afford to lose.
We must go back a few years.
In Eiroku 12 (1569), the Imagawa of Suruga had already fallen into terminal decline. Imagawa Ujizane was a fool; his rewards and punishments were erratic, his retainers alienated, and his people resentful. Takeda Harunobu and Tokugawa Ieyasu, one from the north, one from the east, both set their eyes on this fat piece of meat.
They agreed to carve up the Imagawa together.
Takeda Harunobu would attack Suruga from the north; Tokugawa Ieyasu would invade Tōtōmi from the west. They agreed: whoever captured territory would keep it; they would not interfere with each other.
This "dismemberment of the Imagawa" was almost bloodless. Ujizane's forces had no fight in them—some surrendered, some fled, some took the opportunity to loot. In less than a month, most of Suruga fell to the Takeda, and Tōtōmi was taken by the Tokugawa.
But fate had other plans. A place called Sunpu—the Imagawa's main castle and one of the richest cities on the Tōkaidō—was coveted by both. The two armies nearly came to blows outside the city.
In the end, Harunobu yielded. He was then busy with Uesugi Kenshin and did not want another enemy to the south. He gave up Sunpu to Ieyasu in exchange for Tokugawa support in the north. They agreed: Ieyasu would lead, Harunobu would assist, and together they would defend against the Hōjō.
That pact lasted barely two years.
After carving up the Imagawa, the domains of Takeda Harunobu and Tokugawa Ieyasu met directly. Kai, Shinano, Suruga, Tōtōmi, Mikawa—five provinces now lay side by side, with no buffer zone between them. Two tigers in one cage—sooner or later, one would have to win.
Takeda Harunobu's ambition to advance west was long standing.
Even back in the Eiroku era, he had repeatedly sent envoys to the capital, seeking contacts with the court and the shogunate. What he wanted was legitimacy—a name that would allow him to enter Kyoto and command the realm justifiably.
Now, he felt he had the resources.
Under Harunobu, Takeda territory had more than tripled since his father Takeda Nobutora's time. The Takeda cavalry was said to be "invincible under heaven"; the gleam of their red armour in the sun would terrify any foe. The Takeda retainers were a galaxy of talent, skilled in both letters and war—Yamagata Masakage, Baba Nobuharu, Kōsaka Masanobu, Naitō Masatoyo, Yamamoto Kansuke (though Kansuke had fallen, his spirit lived on)—every one capable of independent command.
In Harunobu's eyes, Oda Nobunaga and Tokugawa Ieyasu were merely stepping stones on his westward path. Nobunaga, though a good fighter, had unstable foundations and enemies on all sides; Ieyasu, though steady, lacked sufficient troops and was no great figure.
"Oda Nobunaga is only an upstart," Harunobu once said to his retainers in the Tsutsujigasaki Hall in Kōfu. "Tokugawa Ieyasu is merely a caretaker. I, Takeda Harunobu, am the true master of the realm."
His retainers all nodded in agreement.
But what they did not know was that a man in Kyoto harboured the same ambition.
Ashikaga Yoshiaki.
When Yoshiaki first entered Kyoto, his gratitude to Oda Nobunaga had been genuine.
He remembered his years of wandering, the humiliation of being snubbed by the Asakura, the terror of fleeing from Miyoshi assassins. It was Oda Nobunaga who had pulled him from the mud and restored him to the shōgun's seat. For a time, he had cherished that debt.
But time is a butcher's knife that erases all feelings.
After several years as shōgun, Yoshiaki's attitude began to shift.
He no longer wanted to be a "protected shōgun." He wanted to rule, to make decisions, to issue orders—to truly govern the realm, as his ancestors Ashikaga Takauji and Ashikaga Yoshimitsu had done.
But Oda Nobunaga would not allow it.
Whenever Yoshiaki proposed something, Nobunaga would say, "Lord Shōgun, let me handle this."
Whenever Yoshiaki wished to meet someone, Nobunaga would first have his background checked and his purpose confirmed before granting permission.
Whenever Yoshiaki wanted to issue an edict, Nobunaga would review it first, approving it if he found it suitable and rejecting it otherwise.
Yoshiaki felt like a puppet, with the strings held by Oda Nobunaga.
He became dissatisfied, then resentful, then hateful.
"Oda Nobunaga," Yoshiaki said to his retainers at Nijō Shin'ei, "gives me the title of shōgun, but does he ever treat me as one? He uses me as nothing but a signboard, a puppet!"
His retainers chimed in agreement. They had long resented Nobunaga's domineering ways—that coarse country bumpkin, why should he order the shōgun about? The shōgun was the master of the shogunate; Nobunaga was merely a subject.
Yoshiaki decided to stop relying on Oda Nobunaga. He would look among the daimyō of the realm for a stronger partner—one who could check, or even replace, Nobunaga.
His gaze fell on Takeda Harunobu in Kai.
In the autumn of Genki 2 (1571), a secret envoy from Ashikaga Yoshiaki, carrying his personal letter, made his way to the Tsutsujigasaki Hall in Kai.
In the letter, Yoshiaki addressed Harunobu as the "foremost warrior of the realm" and denigrated Nobunaga as a "parvenu from Owari." He begged Harunobu to march west, destroy Oda Nobunaga, and restore the shōgunate's authority. He promised that, success achieved, Harunobu would be appointed Kanrei (Deputy Shōgun) and be granted Mino, Owari, and Ise as fiefs.
When Takeda Harunobu received the letter, he was admiring plum blossoms in the garden of Tsutsujigasaki. He read it, was silent for a long while, and then laughed.
"Ashikaga Yoshiaki knows how to talk," Harunobu said, folding the letter and placing it inside his robe. "But the rewards he offers are all on paper. Kanrei? Mino, Owari, Ise? Those belong to others. Promising what is not his—how impressive is that?"
His retainer Baba Nobuharu asked, "Then, my lord… you mean to refuse?"
Harunobu shook his head. "No. I will accept."
Baba was taken aback.
Harunobu rose and stood beneath a plum tree, his hands behind his back. He spoke slowly. "Ashikaga Yoshiaki may be a shōgun without real power, but he possesses legitimacy. If I am to march west, I need the shōgun's endorsement. Whether those things he promised can be delivered is another matter; but with his letter in hand, when I enter the capital region, I will be 'supporting the shōgun,' not 'rebelling.' That legitimacy is worth more than anything."
"As for Oda Nobunaga," Harunobu turned, his eyes blazing, "even without Yoshiaki, I would fight him. If I do not defeat him, how can I enter Kyoto? If I cannot enter Kyoto, how can I dominate the realm? Yoshiaki's letter is just icing on the cake."
In the eleventh month of Genki 2, Takeda Harunobu and Ashikaga Yoshiaki concluded a secret alliance. Yoshiaki also helped Harunobu coordinate with Asakura Yoshikage, Azai Nagamasa, Kennyo of Hongan ji, and others, pulling these scattered anti Oda forces together.
Harunobu displayed astonishing diplomatic skill. He brought together everyone who had a grievance against Nobunaga—Asakura Yoshikage, Azai Nagamasa, Kennyo, the Miyoshi Triumvirate, Rokkaku Yoshikata. Though each had his own agenda, they managed to sit around the same table for the common goal of "overthrowing Oda Nobunaga."
Takeda Harunobu commanded from Kōfu, Yoshiaki provided legitimacy from Kyoto, the Asakura and Azai harried from the north, the Ikkō and Miyoshi harassed from the west, and the Rokkaku remnants waited for opportunities from the south. A vast encirclement was slowly closing around Oda Nobunaga.
In Genki 3 (1572), Takeda Harunobu completed all preparations for his western advance. He mobilised the full forces of Kai, Shinano, and Suruga, assembling a "fifty thousand" army (the actual number was about twenty five thousand)—the largest expedition the Takeda had ever mounted.
Before departure, Harunobu held a grand ceremony at Tsutsujigasaki. Wearing red armour, a gold helmet, and a tachi at his waist, he stood on a high platform. Below, thousands of soldiers massed, banners flapping, horses neighing. Harunobu drew his sword, pointed west, and shouted: "Warriors! The banner of the Takeda shall fly beneath the skies of Kyoto! Follow me west!"
"West! West! West!" twenty five thousand voices roared, shaking the land.
News of Takeda Harunobu's western advance fell like a boulder into a calm lake, sending up towering waves.
At Nijō Shin'ei, Ashikaga Yoshiaki was overjoyed, burning incense and praying for Harunobu's swift arrival. Asakura Yoshikage and Azai Nagamasa began stirring, preparing to coordinate from the north.
When Nobunaga received the news, he suffered a rare sleepless night.
He tossed and turned in bed, unable to find rest. Takeda Harunobu's name buzzed in his mind like a fly. He remembered his composure at Okehazama facing Imagawa Yoshimoto, his calm at Gifu admiring the cherry blossoms—but that courage and calm seemed to desert him when facing Takeda Harunobu.
He was afraid.
Not fear of death, but a deeper unease—he could not see Harunobu's strategy, could not guess his thoughts, could not find his weak points. The adversary was too perfect, so perfect that he seemed impossible to attack.
But afraid or not, the war had to be fought.
Nobunaga immediately called in Tokugawa Ieyasu's envoy and conveyed his determination to "fight the Takeda together." At Hamamatsu Castle, Ieyasu read Nobunaga's letter, was silent for a moment, and then said to his retainers, "Tell Lord Nobunaga: the Tokugawa and the Oda will share life and death."
Nobunaga also sent word to Uesugi Terutora (Uesugi Kenshin) in Echigo. The Uesugi were the Takeda's mortal enemies, having fought four bloody battles at Kawanakajima. Nobunaga hoped that Kenshin would pin down Harunobu from the north. Kenshin received the letter and, without a word, attacked Takeda positions in northern Shinano. Though the attack did not achieve much, it did distract Harunobu.
Yet even so, the momentum of Takeda Harunobu's westward march remained unstoppable.
In the twelfth month of Genki 3, Takeda Harunobu led his army into Tōtōmi Province.
Tokugawa Ieyasu had fewer than ten thousand troops in Tōtōmi. Facing Harunobu's twenty five thousand, he chose to hold his castles and await reinforcements from Nobunaga.
But Harunobu did not give him time. The Takeda bypassed several Tokugawa castles and drove straight for Ieyasu's headquarters—Hamamatsu Castle. On the Mikata gahara plateau before Hamamatsu, the two armies met in a decisive battle.
That battle was bitter for Tokugawa Ieyasu.
The Takeda red cavalry surged like a tide; the thunder of their hooves shook the very earth. The Tokugawa lines were torn open in the first few charges. Ieyasu's generals fought desperately, but the Takeda were too strong—Yamagata Masakage's cavalry broke through on the left, Baba Nobuharu's troops turned the right, while Harunobu's centre stood firm as a rock.
The Tokugawa line snapped in the middle.
Ieyasu was forced to retreat. He rode for his life, with the Takeda in pursuit. For a moment, that normally calm and resolute lord of Mikawa was so terrified that he nearly soiled himself. This is no exaggeration—later Tokugawa records actually mention that Ieyasu lost control of his bowels after the Battle of Mikata gahara.
The Battle of Mikata gahara was a crushing defeat for the Tokugawa. Thousands were killed, many generals fell, and Hamamatsu Castle was left in desperate straits.
The reinforcements Nobunaga had sent—three thousand men under Sakuma Nobumori—did not even reach the battlefield. Hearing that the Tokugawa had already been routed, Sakuma halted and waited for further orders.
The Takeda army was at its zenith. Many minor lords in Tōtōmi, seeing Tokugawa Ieyasu so badly mauled, defected to the Takeda. Even some lords in Mikawa began to waver, secretly contacting Harunobu.
For a time, Takeda Harunobu's name shone like the sun over the Tōkaidō.
Just as Harunobu was sweeping all before him and preparing to march into Mikawa, something unexpected happened.
Takeda Harunobu fell ill.
At first it was merely a light cough; no one in the army took it seriously. Harunobu himself thought it was only a chill, drank some ginger broth, and continued handling military affairs. But a few days later, the cough grew worse, and he began spitting blood.
After examining him, the army physician turned pale.
"Tuberculosis," he said in a low voice to Harunobu's son Takeda Katsuyori. "My lord's lungs are beginning to decay."
Katsuyori felt as if struck by lightning. He knelt by his father's sickbed, held his hand, and tears welled in his eyes.
Harunobu lay in bed, his face sallow, his lips cracked, but his eyes were still bright. He looked at Katsuyori and said slowly, "Katsuyori, do not weep. Men of the Takeda do not shed tears."
"Father…" Katsuyori choked, unable to speak.
Harunobu coughed a few times, bringing up a mouthful of blood. He wiped his lips with his sleeve and continued: "In my life I have ranged across the realm, and I have never bowed to anyone. At Kawanakajima, I did not yield to Uesugi; at Okehazama, I did not yield to Imagawa; now, in this western advance, I do not yield to Oda. But heaven itself opposes me—my body cannot hold out."
Katsuyori wept openly.
Harunobu closed his eyes. A stream of images flashed through his mind—the exultation of his first battle at sixteen, the difficult decision to exile his father at twenty four, the bloody fields of Kawanakajima at twenty eight, the glory of Mikata gahara at forty nine… His life had been like a raging fire, consuming himself and countless enemies.
Now, the fire was about to go out.
On the twelfth day of the fourth month of Genki 4 (1573), Takeda Harunobu died of illness at Komaba in Shinano Province (modern day Shimoina District, Nagano Prefecture). He was fifty three years old.
Before dying, he passed the headship of the clan to his fourth son, Katsuyori, and left a final testament: "For three years after my death, do not announce it to the outside world. For three years, do not send out any troops. After three years, when the time is ripe, then plan the western advance."
Katsuyori knelt before his father, nodding tearfully.
But we know what followed—Katsuyori did not obey his father's testament. He announced his father's death soon after, then hastily launched a western expedition that ended in total annihilation at the Battle of Nagashino against the combined Oda Tokugawa army, bringing the Takeda to ruin.
But that was later.
When news of Takeda Harunobu's death reached Gifu Castle, Oda Nobunaga was practicing swordsmanship in the garden. He listened to his retainer's report and froze, the wooden sword stopped in mid air.
"Takeda Harunobu… is dead?" Nobunaga's voice was somewhat hoarse.
"Dead," the retainer repeated. "Around the tenth day of the fourth month, at Komaba in Shinano. It was tuberculosis, they say."
Nobunaga was silent for a long time. He lowered the wooden sword, walked to a cherry tree in the garden, looked up, and watched the falling blossoms.
The petals fell like snow, one after another, landing on his shoulders, on his hair, on the blue flagstones at his feet.
"Takeda Harunobu," Nobunaga said quietly, "you were a hero."
He paused, then added, his voice unreadable—neither relief nor regret—
"It is a pity, however, that this hero met this demon king."
After Takeda Harunobu's death, Ashikaga Yoshiaki's position became extremely awkward.
He had pinned all his hopes on Harunobu, imagining the Takeda army marching triumphantly into Kyoto and driving Oda Nobunaga back to his Owari village. Now that Harunobu was dead, that card was worthless.
But Yoshiaki could not accept defeat.
He could not accept being a puppet, could not accept Nobunaga strutting about on his ground, could not accept the 230 year legacy of the Ashikaga crumbling in his hands.
He decided to act alone.
In the seventh month of Genki 4 (1573), Ashikaga Yoshiaki issued a proclamation from Nijō Shin'ei, openly denouncing Oda Nobunaga. The proclamation listed Nobunaga's "ten great crimes"—disrespect to the court, disobedience to the shōgun, destruction of Buddhist temples and the burning of the mountain, indiscriminate killing, seizure of public lands, illegal checkpoints, excessive taxation, pillaging by soldiers, hostility to the clergy, hostility to the entire realm.
The prose was elegant, the tone righteous—it read like a manifesto of justice. The problem was that it was issued by Ashikaga Yoshiaki, a puppet shōgun without a single soldier. His proclamation, apart from giving the people of Kyoto something to talk about over their tea, had no practical effect.
When Nobunaga received the proclamation at Gifu Castle, he was handling administrative affairs. He glanced at it, sneered, and tossed it into the brazier.
"Yoshiaki, you actually take yourself seriously." Nobunaga shook his head.
He did not even march immediately. Instead, he gave Yoshiaki a chance to surrender. He sent an envoy to Nijō Shin'ei with this message: "Lord Shōgun, if you revoke the proclamation now and hand over Nijō Shin'ei, I can let bygones be bygones. Your title and domain will be preserved."
Yoshiaki's answer was: "Oda Nobunaga is a rebel. I, Ashikaga Yoshiaki, swear never to coexist with him!"
Nobunaga sighed.
On the eighteenth day of the seventh month of Tenshō 1 (1573), Oda Nobunaga led his army into Kyoto and surrounded Nijō Shin'ei.
The "battle" was hardly one. The garrison of Nijō Shin'ei numbered only a few hundred; facing tens of thousands of Oda troops, they had no chance. Yoshiaki's followers argued among themselves, then began to flee, and finally even his personal attendants ran away.
Alone, Yoshiaki stood on the tenshu of Nijō Shin'ei, watching the flames rise outside, clutching the tachi that had been passed down from Ashikaga Takauji. His whole body shook.
He tried to draw the sword to kill himself, but his hands trembled so much that he could not pull it out.
In the end, he did not die. The tenshu door was smashed open; Oda samurai rushed in, pinned him down, and took his sword.
When Yoshiaki was led out of Nijō Shin'ei, he saw Oda Nobunaga on horseback, looking down at him. Nobunaga's face held neither the joy of victory nor mockery for the defeated—only a faint weariness.
"Lord Yoshiaki," Nobunaga said, "I gave you a chance."
Yoshiaki lowered his head and said nothing.
"I will not kill you. If I did, the world would say that Oda Nobunaga slays his lord." Nobunaga paused. "But you can no longer sit in the shōgun's seat. From today, the Ashikaga shōgunate ends here."
Yoshiaki was exiled to Kawachi Province. Soon afterwards, he was moved to Settsu Province, where he eked out an existence under the protection of Hongan ji.
But Hongan ji was not a safe haven for long. Later, Yoshiaki sought shelter with the Mōri clan, following them as they wandered, always hoping for a chance to restore his fortunes. But that chance never came.
In Tenshō 15 (1587), Ashikaga Yoshiaki died at Ōsaka Castle, aged 61. By that time, Toyotomi Hideyoshi had unified the realm. Hideyoshi gave Yoshiaki a magnificent funeral and buried him in a temple near Ōsaka Castle.
But all that had nothing to do with Oda Nobunaga.
For in Tenshō 10 (1582), Nobunaga had already died at Honnō ji in Kyoto in Akechi Mitsuhide's rebellion.
The Ashikaga shōgunate, from its founding by Ashikaga Takauji to its end under Ashikaga Yoshiaki, lasted 235 years. All its rises and falls, the glitter of swords and the shadow of battle, the debts of gratitude and grudges—all ended at this moment.
Oda Nobunaga stood before the ruins of Nijō Shin'ei, watching the setting sun. The evening wind blew against his face, carrying the summer heat and the smell of smoke.
Behind him, Shibata Katsuie, Kinoshita Hideyoshi, Akechi Mitsuhide, and the other generals stood in a line, silently awaiting their lord's order.
Nobunaga took a deep breath and turned around.
"Business in Kyoto is finished. Back to Gifu."
He mounted his horse, shook the reins, and the horse neighed and began to move forward.
Behind him, ten thousand hooves thundered, raising clouds of dust.
Oda Nobunaga did not look back.
Ahead lay the sea, the realm, and the endless road of conquest.