Chapter 3: Oda Nobunaga “Meeting”

That evening, the Hosokawa father and son departed the residence.

We were facing our second night in this era. As on the previous day, it was a quiet night, the moonlight glowing beautifully and mysteriously.

We had dinner with Mitsuhide, and after a while lay down to sleep.

“Tamao. Finally, just the two of us.”

“Yeah…”

“Well? How was it?”

“Yeah…”

“‘Yeah’? How was it?”

“Yeah…”

“Ta–ma–o!”

Miki raised her voice.

“Ah, sorry. What were we talking about again?”

My mind had been turning over my conversation with Tadaoki earlier, and what I had thought about future choices at that time.

“‘What were we talking about’—don’t give me that. I went out of my way to set up a one-on-one with Tadaoki for you, and you got nothing out of it?”

“Nothing…?”

“So? How did it go?”

“Well… Tadaoki-san asked if we’d come live with him.”

“Score!”

Miki was already in full hype mode.

“Miki.”

“What?”

“I want to hear your opinion.”

“Of course—charge full speed ahead to Tadaoki! Leave it to me!”

Miki was thoroughly enjoying her role as Cupid.

“No, no. I mean something more serious.”

“What now…”

Miki answered with obvious boredom.

“Miki, we’ve been thrown into this time. I want to acknowledge that fact, and decide what we’re going to do from here.”

“What do you mean?”

“In history, the fact that we’re here doesn’t exist. What do you think would happen if we changed history?”

“Change it? Tamao, how could we possibly change history? We’re not samurai, we don’t have weapons.”

“Even in the Sengoku era, not everything is decided by force of arms.”

“Well… yeah.”

“For example, the Incident at Honno-ji. If we stop Mitsuhide-san from ambushing Nobunaga-san, history will change. If we prevent Honno-ji, history will warp, and the shock might send us back.”

“I see… that’s one way to think about it. There’s another option, you know.”

“What’s that?”

“You could marry Tadaoki-san.”

“Wh–what are you talking about! Don’t be stupid!”

I sat up on my bedding, flustered by Miki’s outrageous statement.

“A Sengoku warlord marrying someone from modern times. That would shake history, wouldn’t it?”

“I don’t want to use someone’s heart just so we can get home.”

“Which means… you really do like Tadaoki-san, don’t you?”

Miki’s jab hit home.

“Th–that’s not it…”

“Haah. You’re so easy to read.”

“Enough already. Um, um… right, we were supposed to be talking about what to do from here.”

I steered the conversation back.

“Right.”

“So, Miki, what do you think?”

“I agree with you. If we exist in this time, then we should fully intervene and change history. If that shock gets us back to our time, all the better.”

“Okay. Then that’s our basic policy. So next, what do we do starting tomorrow? Do you have any ideas?”

“As for tomorrow, it’s already decided.”

Miki answered lightly.

“Decided? What do you mean?”

“When you were with Tadaoki-san, I was in the room watching Mitsuhide-san and Fujitaka-san play Go. During that, they said we’d go to Kyoto with Mitsuhide-san tomorrow.”

“You agreed to that?”

“There was no reason to refuse.”

Miki said it as if it were obvious.

“Don’t just decide things for both of us.”

I scolded her for being so careless.

“Excuse me, but weren’t you the one who went to the tea gathering today without asking me?”

“Ah…”

I had no comeback.

“See? You can’t talk.”

“That’s true, but… so you’re saying you’re ready to meet Oda Nobunaga?”

“Ah…”

Now it was Miki’s turn to be at a loss for words.

The next day, among the marching troops toward Kyoto, there was one thing utterly out of place. Of course, it was Miki’s car.

“…Feels like we’ve been driving forever. Faaah.”

Rather than driving, it was more like creeping along.

“Miki, Miki!”

From the passenger seat, I nudged her with my elbow.

“What is it—”

“That yawn. Cut it out. People in front and behind are staring at us.”

“But I’m bored…”

“I get that, but you’re not a kid. Hold it in.”

“Fine, fine… But you know, monotonous driving is actually the most exhausting.”

Miki grumbled.

“Alright, alright. Tonight I’ll give you a leg and back massage. Just bear with it now.”

“Ohh, now you’re talking. I’m counting on you!”

Her mood flipped instantly.

Before long, bustling streets came into view. Drapery shops, rice stores, taverns—the scene was straight out of a period drama set.

“Wow! What a rare sight!”

Miki was already in sightseeing mode.

“Miki…”

“Hm?”

“Look around. Everyone’s staring at us.”

“Well of course. This is a car. The best they’ve got here is a cart.”

“W-well, yeah.”

I didn’t bother pointing out the absurdity of comparing a car to a cart. She was too busy basking in superiority.

“But seriously, a cart can’t carry much. Clearly, I win.”

Win what? I had no idea.

“Miki, in this era most transport was by water. Goods would arrive at ports, be loaded on small boats, and go upriver. Osaka, called the kitchen of Japan, thrived because it had so many canals.”

“Why does Osaka have so many rivers?”

“Strictly speaking, they’re canals. A man named Yasui Doton spent his own fortune digging them to improve distribution—that’s where Dotonbori gets its name. And after that, many more waterways were built.”

“But the roads are pretty wide too, aren’t they?”

“Nobunaga began serious road improvements. Later, under the Tokugawa shogunate, routes like the Tokaido were fully paved with post stations. But right now, only parts of the Kinki region have them.”

“Still, with horses and oxen, roads are good enough.”

“Of course, for mountain transport. But the thinking about logistics was flexible. Back then, local merchants had to pay heavy taxes to temples and shrines, but Nobunaga abolished those, allowing free trade. So instead, many merchants from the provinces poured into the cities.”

“That’s called Rakuichi Rakuza, right?”

“Exactly.”

We chatted like that to ease the monotony of the journey.

The column reached the edge of town, stopping along the wall of a large estate.

Miki braked, turned off the engine, and pulled the handbrake.

“I’m exhausted. I just want to stretch out my legs!”

She rolled her neck in a circle.

While she was resting, I looked around. At the end of the long wall was a gate. Mitsuhide’s palanquin should have reached it by now.

I asked a nearby soldier: “Excuse me.”

The guard turned.

“Yes, what is it?”

“Could you tell me what this place is?”

“An inn.”

“Then… this estate belongs to Nobunaga-san?”

“No.”

“Is this… a temple?”

I asked timidly.

“Yes. I’m surprised you guessed.”

The soldier smiled.

“C–could it be…”

A chill ran up my back. Miki was already dozing in the driver’s seat.

— Nenjūan Temple —

That’s what was written on the gate.

The temple grounds had a wide garden, with a modest main hall. Under the samurai’s guidance, we parked behind the office building, then were shown through a long corridor into an eight-mat room.

“Ahh, I’m beat!”

Miki plopped down, stretching her legs and falling onto her back.

“Miki!”

“Come on. Don’t you savor the feeling of arrival when you reach a inn?”

“This isn’t an inn—it’s a temple.”

I cut in.

“You’ve never stayed overnight at a temple?”

“Stayed… at a temple?”

“Oh right, you’re Christian. Of course you’ve never stayed at one outside your own.”

“True, but my family’s temple has never hosted guests like an inn.”

I protested.

“Of course not. Your place is in town. You don’t get lodgers there.”

“So, what’s your point?”

She sat up.

“Actually, lots of temples in rural tourist spots do this. Famous ones like the 88 temples of Shikoku, or Mount Koya, they’re just like inns—cheap, with private rooms, big baths, and meals included.”

“Really?”

“Totally. Plus, you get sermons. And that’s refreshing in its own way.”

Miki nodded proudly.

“Miki, sermons are a daily routine in the Igarashi household. Don’t act like it’s something exotic.”

I sighed.

“Haha…”

Miki gave a sheepish laugh.

“Well, I really didn’t know temples did that.”

“See? I thought you, Miss History Buff, would definitely know.”

“I didn’t. Where do you get this obscure info?”

“Hello? Travel agencies. Their tour brochures always have it.”

“….”

I was speechless at the gap between us.

“Lady Tamao, Lady Miki.”

Mitsuhide’s voice came from the corridor.

“Are you ready?”

“Ready?”

We looked at each other in confusion.

Led by Mitsuhide, with one guard, we passed through a back gate to the neighboring building.

“Toshimitsu, I hear Lord Hashiba is here. Do you know why?”

“Yes. It seems Lord Hideyoshi came to consult Lord Nobunaga about the siege of Takamatsu Castle.”

That retainer, Toshimitsu, was none other than Saitō Toshimitsu—the father of Kasuga no Tsubone, the future wet nurse of the third shogun, Tokugawa Iemitsu.

“Takamatsu?” Mitsuhide asked.

“Yes…” Toshimitsu glanced at us.

“Ha! Worry not. Look at their eyes—they’re no enemy spies. I feel more like they’re daughters.”

“Yes.”

“And Hashiba?”

“He struggles at Takamatsu.”

“Even so, no general would leave a battlefield unless forced. Something is amiss.”

Mitsuhide’s tone sharpened.

Toshimitsu added, “It seems the fighting is mostly small skirmishes, a standoff.”

“Still… for him to leave…”

“Likely to discuss whether to storm or prolong the siege.”

“I see. If he can seize Takamatsu, Hashiba will gain command of the Shikoku campaign. He would want to minimize casualties, and capture the castle intact.”

“Yes. In any case, beware, my lord. Do not trust Hashiba.”

Toshimitsu’s eyes gleamed.

We followed in silence.

Ahead, sliding screens were wide open to a twelve-mat chamber, leading to an inner eight-mat room. In the center sat none other than Oda Nobunaga himself.

Sharp brows, long eyes glinting with deadly intensity—his gaze burned into my mind.

Mitsuhide knelt in the garden, head lowered.

“My lord Nobunaga…”

“Oh, Mitsuhide! Finally. Enough formality—come in.”

In high spirits, Nobunaga waved him in.

“Yes, my lord…”

Removing his sandals, Mitsuhide sat in the twelve-mat chamber.

“Closer.”

Nobunaga beckoned with his fan.

Sliding forward on his knees, Mitsuhide sat again in the inner chamber. Beside him sat a wiry, friendly-faced man.

(That’s Hideyoshi!) I realized immediately.

“Mitsuhide, lend your wisdom.”

“Yes, my lord?”

“Hideyoshi, the map.”

Hideyoshi spread a map.

“A map of Takamatsu Castle and its surroundings,” he said.

“Mitsuhide, Hideyoshi struggles. Advise us.”

Nobunaga tapped the castle on the map with his fan.

“What’s the time frame?”

“Half a month.”

Mitsuhide studied the map silently.

“We must take it intact,” Nobunaga pressed.

“Yes. It is the rainy season. We could dam the valleys and flood the castle.”

“A bold idea,” Hideyoshi agreed.

“The problem is time. If we delay, the rains will end.”

“We’ll conscript villagers,” Hideyoshi said.

“Even women and children if need be…” Nobunaga mused, unsatisfied.

Mitsuhide pondered.

“Then I will gather all laborers,” Hideyoshi boasted.

“Silence, monkey!” Nobunaga smacked him with his fan.

“Yes!” Hideyoshi shrank back.

“You fool. Force the peasants, and they’ll revolt.”

“What should we do then…?”

“That’s what I’m asking!”

Nobunaga stormed around the room, then:

“Enough. Bring sake!”

I thought him reckless, abandoning strategy for drink. But then:

“Everyone drink one cup. Then give me ideas. You, and you, and you…”

Then he spotted us in the garden.

“…Who are they?”

“Ah, hello…” Miki bowed.

“G–good evening,” I bowed too.

Nobunaga crouched, peering. Then he scooped sake in a cup, thrust it at me.

“Drink?”

I forced a smile and shook my head. The air froze. Toshimitsu reached forward—

“I’ll take it…”

But Nobunaga drank it all himself.

“Pffah!” He wiped his mouth.

“Well? Any ideas?”

Everyone gasped.

“Lord Nobunaga, those unknowns—” Hideyoshi protested.

“Silence!”

Nobunaga sipped more, then looked at us.

“Do you have any wisdom?”

Miki stepped back. It was on me.

“…Do you have money?”

The room froze.

“Money? Do you want money?”

“No. To buy.”

“Buy?”

“Yes. Buy dirt.”

“What?”

Nobunaga slammed down the cup.

“Explain.”

“For example, exchange a cup of dirt for a cup of rice. Or money. Then everyone will bring dirt—men, women, children.”

I spoke with certainty, knowing this was recorded history.

“…Buy dirt…”

He stared into my eyes.

“Interesting!” He slapped his knee.

“Hideyoshi, hear me! Build dams in these valleys. Dig soil from the riverbanks. Pay for each measure with rice or coin. No discrimination!”

“Yes, my lord!” Hideyoshi ran off.

As he did, I noticed a limping figure slipping away, casting me a feral glare. Like a wounded wolf baring its fangs.

“Pffah!” Nobunaga drank again, jolting me back.

“Thanks to you, Shikoku will fall into my hands. Come, sit.”

We entered the inner room.

“Mitsuhide.”

“Yes.”

“A fine gift you’ve brought me.”

“Too much honor.”

“No, forgive me. Lady Tamao, Lady Miki, is it?”

“Yes,” Mitsuhide said softly.

“Well, Lady Tamao. Where did you learn strategy?”

His eyes burned with curiosity.

“In my homeland, anyone may study if needed—man or woman.”

“What?!” His face darkened.

“A military state so near?” He glanced at Mitsuhide.

“And you, Lady Miki?”

“No, I’m not interested.”

“Our land is peaceful, my lord.”

“Peaceful?” He laughed.

“Then why military study?”

“Because even if our country is peaceful, if attacked, we must defend it.”

“That’s sophistry,” he snapped.

“It is not.”

“Yes it is. To defend peace, you take knowledge, weapons, and conquer neighbors. That’s war.”

“Not if competition is for growth.”

“Where is the line between good and bad?”

“Hurting people. Competition that hurts people is meaningless.”

“Wahahaha!” He roared with laughter.

I scowled, but he said, “No offense. It is a hard question. But know this: even now you meddle in my wars.”

“That’s…” I had no answer.

“Enough. Mitsuhide.”

“Yes.”

“I like her spirit. I’ll keep her for a while.”

“What?”

“Don’t worry. I won’t eat her. Just want to talk.”

“Yes, my lord.” Mitsuhide bowed.