Imagawa Yoshimoto, the Number One Archer of the Tōkaidō, was born to do great things.
His boldness was not the crude, reckless kind, but an aloof, unhurried boldness born of superiority. He was short and stout, with a pale, beardless face. He walked with a slight paunch, his pace neither fast nor slow, as if each step fell on a beat. He loved to associate with the court nobles of Kyoto, often holding waka and renga gatherings at Sunpu Castle, even inviting elderly aristocrats from the Fujiwara house to teach him flute playing and incense appreciation. His garments were always the latest fashion from the capital—his hitatare woven with elaborate patterns, his obi made of imported Chinese brocade, his tachi scabbard inlaid with mother of pearl. Even his saddle was decorated with gold leaf. He blackened his teeth, darkened his eyebrows, and powdered his face—a most incongruous appearance on the battlefield, but he did not care. He wanted this air of "effortless elegance," as if to tell the world: "I, Imagawa Yoshimoto, am both a fierce warrior and a supremely refined nobleman."
But do not be fooled by this refined exterior. Inside Imagawa Yoshimoto's belly crouched a tiger.
From childhood he had set his heart on a grand ambition: to lead a great army west to Kyoto, command the realm, and become the Duke Huan of the Warring States. He read the Spring and Autumn Annals and the Records of the Grand Historian, and was deeply fascinated by Duke Huan's achievement of "convening the feudal lords and restoring order to the realm." He once said to his retainers, "Duke Huan succeeded not because he won many battles, but because he made the feudal lords trust him. If the Imagawa are to command the realm, we must first let the world know that the name Imagawa Yoshimoto is not to be trifled with."
To realise this ambition, he spent more than a decade consolidating Suruga, Tōtōmi, and Mikawa, securing his rear, and winning allies. Now, the Takeda of Kai were his in laws, the Hōjō of Sagami were his allies, the minor lords of Mikawa had either surrendered or submitted, and from east to west along the Tōkaidō there was almost no force left that could stand against him.
The final obstacle was Oda Nobunaga of Owari Province.
That brash young man in his twenties, in Yoshimoto's eyes, was nothing more than a toad squatting on the highway. It might hop about cheerfully, but it would be crushed in the end.
"Oda Nobunaga," Imagawa Yoshimoto once said casually at a tea gathering in Sunpu Castle, "is nothing but a rustic boor. He knows no etiquette, understands nothing of refinement, has never even composed a single waka. Does such a man deserve to be my opponent?"
As he spoke, he used a silver pick to lift a piece of pickled radish and daintily conveyed it to his mouth, chewing with exquisite grace.
But though his words were contemptuous, his preparations were not. Imagawa Yoshimoto knew well that a lion uses all his strength even when hunting a rabbit. He wanted not a narrow victory, but a clean, overwhelming, crushing triumph that would silence anyone who dared question his western advance.
In the fifth month of Eiroku 3 (1560), Imagawa Yoshimoto began mobilising his forces.
First, he strengthened the defences of Ōtaka Castle and Narumi Castle. These two castles lay on the southern border of Owari Province and were the bridgeheads for his attack on the Oda. He sent additional supplies, reinforcements, and repair crews, turning the two castles into iron fortresses. He also dispatched his trusted retainer Asai Masatoshi to garrison Kakegawa Castle—this castle stood at the border between Mikawa and Owari, in an excellent position, serving both as a base for the advance and a logistics hub for the main army. Imagawa Yoshimoto made Kakegawa his forward headquarters and ordered Asai Masatoshi to stockpile grain, weapons, and equipment, repair the roads, and deploy the troops.
Everything was ready. At Sunpu Castle, battle flags flapped in the wind, warhorses neighed, and twenty five thousand soldiers stood ready. Including reinforcements conscripted along the way from Mikawa, Tōtōmi, and other provinces, the total force would reach forty thousand. This was the largest expedition launched by the Imagawa in nearly a century—banners darkened the sky, spears and swords formed a forest, and the army rolled westward along the Tōkaidō in an endless column.
When the news reached Kiyosu Castle, Oda Nobunaga's retainers erupted in uproar.
"Forty thousand!" The old retainer Hayashi Tōkatsu turned as white as paper, nearly dropping his teacup. "Imagawa Yoshimoto is bringing forty thousand men! All the troops we can muster at Kiyosu Castle, at the very most, are three thousand…"
Shibata Katsuie fell silent as well. This warrior, known for his ferocity, clenched his fists, his brow furrowed into a knot. Three thousand against forty thousand—this was not a battle, it was suicide.
The military council convened in the main hall of Kiyosu Castle's honmaru. The long, narrow hall was packed with Oda retainers, the atmosphere as heavy as lead. The summer heat seeped through the paper doors, but no one felt hot—everyone's back was cold.
Hayashi Tōkatsu was the first to speak. "My lord, the enemy is numerous and we are few. The disparity is too great; we cannot contend with them directly. I believe we should hold Kiyosu Castle, fortify our positions, and wait for the enemy to tire. The Imagawa army has come a long distance; their supply lines are long. If we can hold out for several months, their provisions will run out and they will withdraw on their own."
Several old retainers nodded in agreement. "Sadoken speaks truly. Holding the castle is the best strategy."
Nobunaga sat at the head of the hall, propping his cheek on one hand, his eyes half closed, looking at neither Hayashi nor anyone else. His fingers tapped the table monotonously, "thump, thump." The retainers talked for a long time, but he remained silent, like a stone statue.
Shibata Katsuie glanced at Nobunaga and said cautiously, "My lord, holding the castle is safe enough, but if the Imagawa bypass Kiyosu and strike directly at Kyoto, we will be in a passive position. Perhaps… we should choose the right moment to attack?"
Nobunaga still did not speak.
The atmosphere in the hall grew ever more oppressive. The retainers exchanged glances; some began whispering, others surreptitiously wiped sweat. Hayashi Tōkatsu cleared his throat and was about to speak again when Nobunaga suddenly opened his eyes wide.
Those eyes held no fear, no hesitation—only a strange, spine chilling excitement, like a wolf that had been starving for a long time and finally smelled blood.
"Hold the castle?" Nobunaga rose to his feet. His voice was not loud, but every word struck the hearts of those present. "Sit in the castle and wait for Imagawa Yoshimoto to break down the door? Wait until he smashes the door open and drags us out of our holes one by one? Is that your idea?"
Hayashi Tōkatsu's face flushed crimson. His lips quivered, but he could not speak.
Nobunaga walked to the centre of the hall and looked around. He wore a faded black hitatare, his belt loosely tied, his hair somewhat dishevelled. He did not look at all like a daimyō. But at that moment, as he stood there, the aura radiating from his body made everyone in the hall dare not lift their heads.
"If the enemy comes and we crawl into our shells, what kind of samurai are we?" Nobunaga's voice cut through the hall like a blade. "If we are going to fight, we fight outside the gates! What difference does it make if we fight beneath Kiyosu Castle or at the border? The longer we drag this out, the more of our land we lose and the more our people suffer. Better to strike him hard while he is still unsteady—let him know that Owari is not a place he can trample as he pleases!"
He paused, his gaze sweeping over every face, and said one word at a time: "I, Oda Nobunaga, will take the initiative and meet Imagawa Yoshimoto's main force head on. Any of you who do not wish to go may leave now. I will not stop you."
Dead silence filled the hall.
The retainers lowered their heads, none daring to answer. Hayashi Tōkatsu opened his mouth, then closed it again. Shibata Katsuie's Adam's apple bobbed, but in the end he said nothing.
After a long silence, Niwa Nagahide was the first to prostrate himself. "Your servant will follow my lord into battle."
Then Sakuma Nobumori, Kawajiri Hidetaka… one by one, the retainers bowed and signalled their resolve.
Hayashi Tōkatsu sighed deeply and finally prostrated himself as well.
Nobunaga said no more and strode out of the hall. Behind him, the retainers rose one after another—the sounds of footsteps, scabbards clinking, and low murmurs mixing together like water about to boil.
On the 18th day of the fifth month of Eiroku 3, Imagawa Yoshimoto personally led an army of twenty five thousand out of Sunpu Castle.
He did not take his legitimate son Imagawa Ujizane with him—Ujizane remained behind to defend Sunpu Castle, a precaution in case of the worst. Though Yoshimoto spoke contemptuously of Oda Nobunaga, in his heart he retained a samurai's proper caution. If some accident befell him, the Imagawa would still have an heir.
The army's column stretched endlessly as it advanced westward along the Tōkaidō. The vanguard consisted of elite cavalry led by such fierce generals as Katsuraya Nobusada and Okabe Motonobu, their red bird crests brilliant in the sunlight. The main body was Yoshimoto's own contingent—several hundred bodyguards surrounding a splendid palanquin. Yes, a palanquin. Imagawa Yoshimoto did not ride a horse; he found riding too tiring and feared it would mess up his hair. He sat inside the palanquin, carried by eight bearers, with fully armed guards before and behind. Curtains embroidered with the Imagawa crest hung around the palanquin, and from a distance it resembled not the command post of an army but the procession of a Kyoto noble.
Behind the main body came the infantry, archers, arquebusiers, and a long baggage train. Ox carts and horse carts were loaded with grain, arrows, gunpowder, and wine—Imagawa Yoshimoto had brought a considerable amount of wine, as if this expedition were not a campaign but a picnic.
As the army passed, dust rose and darkened the sky. The minor lords along the way came out to welcome him, offering provisions to reward the troops. Sitting in his palanquin, Imagawa Yoshimoto smiled and nodded, directing his attendants to accept everything. Occasionally he lifted the curtain to exchange a few words with the locals, playing the part of a "king ly army that does not disturb a single leaf."
On the 19th day of the fifth month, the army arrived at Kakegawa Castle. Asai Masatoshi was already waiting beneath the walls. When he saw Imagawa Yoshimoto's banners, he hurriedly knelt. Yoshimoto stepped out of the palanquin, stretched his body, and looked at the solid castle before him. He nodded with satisfaction.
"Very well," he said. "We will make Kakegawa our base and deploy the attack from here."
That evening, Imagawa Yoshimoto held a military council at Kakegawa Castle. The tent was brightly lit; the generals sat in a circle; maps covered the floor. Yoshimoto sat at the head, holding a folding fan, and pointed at the Oda castles marked on the maps as he issued his orders one by one.
"Matsudaira Motoyasu," Yoshimoto called a young name.
A boy of seventeen or eighteen rose from the lowest seat and bowed respectfully. He wore black armour, his features were upright, and his brow carried a composure unusual for his age. This was Matsudaira Motoyasu—the future Tokugawa Ieyasu. As a child he had been a hostage in the Oda household, then later sent to the Imagawa, where he was still kept as a hostage at Sunpu. Imagawa Yoshimoto, seeing him grown, had given him a minor post and sent him with the army to gain experience.
"You will take your own force and attack Marune Fortress." Yoshimoto tapped the map with his fan. "Marune is a strongpoint that Oda Nobunaga established near Ōtaka Castle. Take it, and Ōtaka will have no worries from its rear."
"Yes, my lord." Matsudaira Motoyasu bowed his head and accepted the order, his voice calm and betraying no emotion.
"Asahina Yasuyuki," Yoshimoto called another general.
"Present!" A burly, broad backed man stepped forward.
"You will attack Washizu Fortress. Coordinate with Matsudaira Motoyasu to strike both fortresses simultaneously, so that they cannot support each other."
"Yes, my lord!"
"Katsuraya Nobusada, Okabe Motonobu." Yoshimoto closed his fan and his voice became grave. "You two will lead the vanguard, taking the cavalry straight to Kiyosu Castle. Do not wait for the main body. Set out ahead and catch them off guard."
"Yes, my lord!"
One by one, the generals received their orders and departed. The tent gradually emptied, leaving only Imagawa Yoshimoto and a few attendants. Yoshimoto leaned against an armrest, closed his eyes, and curled the corners of his mouth, as if he could already see the day when Oda Nobunaga's head would be laid before him.
In Kiyosu Castle, Oda Nobunaga had naturally also received word of the Imagawa army's advance.
Scouts came running back one after another, breathlessly reporting the Imagawa's movements: the main body had crossed the Arakawa River, the vanguard was approaching Kakegawa Castle, Matsudaira Motoyasu was moving toward Marune, Asahina Yasuyuki was closing in on Washizu… Each piece of news hammered at the hearts of the retainers. Some secretly packed valuables, some sent their families out of the castle, some began whispering whether they should surrender—though of course, these things happened where Nobunaga could not see.
Nobunaga himself, however, was strangely calm.
He seemed utterly indifferent to the tension at the front. The entire day of the 19th, he idled comfortably at Kiyosu Castle—inspected the granaries, tried out some new arquebuses, and spent half the day sparring with a few young samurai. In the evening, he even drank several cups of wine and went to bed early.
His retainers exchanged puzzled glances: had their lord been frightened stupid, or did he simply not grasp the gravity of the situation?
Early in the morning of the 20th, urgent reports flew into Kiyosu Castle like snowflakes. Both Marune and Washizu fortresses were under attack; their garrisons were in desperate straits. Nobunaga's trusted general Sakuma Morishige, stationed at Marune, sent his last urgent letter: "The enemy are numerous; Marune cannot hold out much longer. Your servant will fight to the death to repay my lord's kindness."
Nobunaga read the letter, was silent for a moment, then folded it and placed it inside his robe.
The old retainers once again gathered in the honmaru hall, debating heatedly. Hayashi Tōkatsu again proposed "holding the castle in defence," Shibata Katsuie advocated "concentrating our forces to smash one prong," and Maeda Toshiie and others were so anxious they stamped their feet, begging Nobunaga to take action.
Nobunaga sat at the head of the hall, heard them all out without a word, then rose.
"Prepare my clothes," he said to an attendant. "I am going to pay homage at Atsuta Shrine."
The retainers were dumbfounded.
"M-My lord!" Hayashi Tōkatsu's beard bristled with urgency. "The Imagawa army is already at our doorstep! Marune and Washizu are in imminent danger, and you want to visit Atsuta Shrine?"
Nobunaga ignored him and turned into the inner chamber. Attendants hurriedly helped him change into formal attire—a white kosode, a dark purple hitatare, a gold brocade obi at his waist, and an eboshi cap on his head. Once changed, Nobunaga looked like a different person: from a dishevelled warrior, he had become a radiant young noble.
He stepped out of the inner chamber, swept his gaze over the anxious faces of his retainers, and the corners of his mouth lifted slightly—a half smile.
"Let's go," he said. "To Atsuta."
With a few old retainers, Nobunaga rode out of Kiyosu Castle toward Atsuta Shrine. He rode unhurriedly, even greeting a farmer they passed and asking how the rice planting was going. The old retainers following behind were sweating with anxiety, wishing they could sprout wings and fly to the front, but Nobunaga was in no hurry, as if he were merely going out to enjoy the spring flowers.
Atsuta Shrine, located in the heart of Owari, housed the Kusanagi sword, the sacred sword of the imperial regalia. Since ancient times, it had been the guardian deity of the eastern provinces. Nobunaga dismounted before the torii gate, straightened his cap and robes, and walked calmly into the shrine. He knelt before the main hall, pressed his palms together, and closed his eyes in prayer. No one knew what he prayed for—victory? safety? Perhaps neither. Perhaps he simply wanted the gods to see that what he, Oda Nobunaga, was about to do was worthy of this land.
After finishing his prayer, Nobunaga rose and turned to the old retainers behind him.
"What are you afraid of?" He suddenly laughed, the smile carrying a hint of mockery and also a hint of reassurance. "Imagawa Yoshimoto has travelled all the way from Suruga. His men are exhausted, his supply lines are stretched. As he came along the Tōkaidō, the lords along the way may have bowed to him, but in their hearts they are not truly loyal. An army like that, no matter how large, is just a heap of loose sand. We Owari men are few, but every one of us is fighting to protect our home. Every one of us is worth ten of them. Why fear him?"
The old retainers exchanged glances. Though their hearts were still uneasy, Nobunaga's words gave them some comfort.
Nobunaga ordered battle flags set up in the courtyard of Atsuta Shrine and began mustering his troops. Gradually, samurai from various districts arrived with their men and formed ranks in the open space before the shrine. At first there were only a few dozen, then a few hundred, and finally nearly a thousand men had gathered. Standing on the steps, Nobunaga looked at these soldiers—shabbily dressed, poorly armed—but he did not frown; instead, he nodded.
"Enough," he said. "With these men, Imagawa Yoshimoto will have a bellyful."
He did not wait for all his forces to assemble at Atsuta. Instead, with the nearly one thousand already on hand, he marched southeast. Their destination: Tange Fortress and Shōjō-ji Fortress—two strongpoints Nobunaga had previously established around Narumi Castle, forming a triad with Marune and Washizu.
Along the way, Nobunaga rode at the head of the column. From time to time, he cast his gaze toward the southeastern horizon, where a faint plume of black smoke rose—the direction of Marune and Washizu.
Halfway there, a scout covered in blood galloped up from the front, threw himself off his horse, and knelt before Nobunaga. His voice hoarse, he reported: "My lord… Marune Fortress… Marune Fortress has fallen…"
Nobunaga reined in his horse, his face expressionless.
"Lord Sakuma Morishige… fought to the death…" The scout's voice trembled. "Lord Sakuma was surrounded by enemy troops. He tried to break out, but was hit by… more than ten arrows… he bled to death…"
When he heard the name Sakuma Morishige, Nobunaga's pupils contracted slightly.
Sakuma Morishige, his trusted general, a fierce warrior who had served the Oda since Nobuhide's time. Bold and brave, he had been deeply trusted by Nobunaga. Only a few days earlier, Sakuma Morishige had written to Nobunaga swearing, "I will fight to the death to repay my lord's kindness." And now he was dead.
Nobunaga was silent for a long time, holding his horse in the middle of the road, motionless. The attending retainers cautiously stole glances at his face.
"Sakuma…" Nobunaga whispered the name. His Adam's apple moved, and then he suddenly drew the tachi at his waist. The blade flashed a blinding white in the sunlight.
"Imagawa Yoshimoto!" Nobunaga roared toward the southeast. The roar was a mix of fury, grief, and a near mad lust for blood. "You have killed my Sakuma! I will make you pay!"
The attending retainers had never seen Nobunaga so utterly lose his composure. They were struck silent.
Nobunaga did not linger. He sheathed his sword, whipped his horse, and the animal neighed and charged forward. The column followed, raising a trail of dust.
In the afternoon of the 20th day of the fifth month, Nobunaga reached Tange Fortress. Shōjō-ji Fortress lay not far away, the two supporting each other. Here, he gathered another thousand troops, bringing his total to nearly three thousand. Adding stragglers still making their way from various districts, he barely scraped together three thousand men.
With these three thousand, he was to face Imagawa Yoshimoto's forty thousand.
Nobunaga stood on a high place at Shōjō-ji Fortress and looked south. In the distance, toward Marune and Washizu, the black smoke had not yet dispersed; the faint smell of burning hung in the air. He knew that those fortresses no longer had defenders; the Imagawa army was clearing the battlefield there, licking its wounds after its freshly won victory.
Nobunaga clenched his fist.
Just then, scouts returned from the front with more news—worse news.
"Sasa Masatsugu and Sengoku Tadatada… have fallen in battle!" The scout knelt on the ground, not daring to lift his head. "They were ordered to advance toward Narumi Castle to tie down the enemy, but the enemy forces were too strong. Lord Sasa and Lord Sengoku each broke into the enemy formations and fought until… until they could fight no more…"
Nobunaga's breathing grew rough.
Sasa Masatsugu, Sengoku Tadatada—two more fierce generals, two more lives. In a single day, he had lost three of his most trusted men. Nobunaga's hand gripped his sword hilt so tightly that his knuckles cracked.
"Good," his voice was squeezed out through his teeth. "Good. Very good. Imagawa Yoshimoto, you have killed three of my generals today. I will settle this debt with you slowly."
The old retainers gathered around him again to advise: My lord, the enemy is too strong, we are too few; better to fall back to Kiyosu Castle and plan at length…
"Plan at length?" Nobunaga spun around, his gaze cutting across the faces of the old retainers like a knife. "I have lost three generals in one day, and you still want me to plan at length? I am going to find Imagawa Yoshimoto—today, now!"
He vaulted onto his horse, ignoring all further remonstrations, and led his force out from Nakajima to seek out the enemy and avenge his men.
Fate often hides in the most insignificant corners.
Nobunaga's army moved along a mountain path. The day was waning; the sun slanted westward, dyeing the whole land a dark crimson. Though his mind churned with rage and bloodlust, his steps did not falter. As he marched, he sent out multiple scouts to locate the exact position of Imagawa Yoshimoto's main force.
After taking Marune and Washizu, the Imagawa army ought to advance toward Ōtaka Castle—an important Imagawa stronghold inside Owari. If Yoshimoto's main body intended to join up with Ōtaka, it had to pass along a certain route. Nobunaga had a rough idea, but he needed more precise intelligence.
At this critical moment, a scout came scrambling back from the front.
This scout was named Hatano Heihyōe, an obscure low ranking samurai in Nobunaga's service, ordinarily responsible for reconnaissance. He had no remarkable talents, but today he performed a deed of great merit. His face was covered in mud, his armour had been gashed several times by branches, and his forehead was bleeding, but he paid no attention. He threw himself before Nobunaga's horse, his voice so excited it cracked:
"My lord! I found him! Imagawa Yoshimoto's main force! It is over there!" He pointed southeast. "Okehazama! Imagawa Yoshimoto has set up his camp at Okehazama!"
Nobunaga's eyes lit up.
"Okehazama?" He repeated the name, and the topography of the area flashed through his mind.
Okehazama was a low lying area between Ōtaka Castle and Kakegawa Castle, surrounded by hills and thick woods, with only a narrow road passing through it. The ground was damp, poorly drained; on summer afternoons, fog often gathered there. And crucially, the terrain was so tight that a large army could not deploy at all, and cavalry would be completely useless.
Why would such a massive army camp there?
Nobunaga pressed the scout for details. Hatano Heihyōe, panting heavily, reported it all: Imagawa Yoshimoto, apparently thinking the day was too far advanced to continue marching, had ordered the army to set up camp for the night at Okehazama and resume the advance the next day. Yoshimoto's main force was camped on a small hill at Okehazama, his makeshift enclosure formed by abatis and supply wagons. The soldiers had built cooking fires, and smoke rose in thin columns.
Further reports added an even more important detail: because he was "overly excited after his victory," Imagawa Yoshimoto was holding a great feast in the camp to reward his soldiers. By now, the camp was likely filled with drunken, reeling men, their guard relaxed.
After hearing these reports, Nobunaga suddenly threw back his head and laughed to the sky.
"Imagawa Yoshimoto, oh Imagawa Yoshimoto," Nobunaga laughed until he could hardly breathe, tears nearly coming to his eyes. "You have forty thousand troops, yet you choose to spend the night cramped into such a godforsaken place. You have advanced triumphantly all the way, yet you stop to drink when you are only one step from victory. What does this mean? It means—Heaven itself wishes for your destruction!"
He stopped laughing, and the expression on his face instantly turned from wild joy to icy ruthlessness. He looked around at the generals and said in a tone that brooked no argument: "Pass my order—all troops, march immediately on Okehazama! No, not 'march on'—'pounce on'! Strike while they are dead drunk, while they think we Owari rats have been scared out of our wits. Hit them hard!"
"But my lord," Shibata Katsuie hesitated, "the terrain at Okehazama is narrow. We will not have a numerical advantage either…"
"Katsuie," Nobunaga interrupted him, using his personal name. "When did you become such a fussbudget? The narrowness of Okehazama—who does it disadvantage more? His forty thousand cannot deploy, while our three thousand cannot deploy either? His great army is clogged in that narrow defile, unable to manoeuvre; the only troops that can fight are the few hundred bodyguards around him. If we throw three thousand men at him, one cut apiece will be enough to finish him!"
Shibata Katsuie fell silent.
Nobunaga gave another order: plant as many extra banners as possible at Shōjō-ji Fortress, the more the better, so that from a distance Imagawa's scouts would think that Oda Nobunaga's main force was still sitting still at Shōjō-ji. This was a ruse to make Imagawa Yoshimoto relax his guard, to think that he could sleep soundly that night.
"Listen to me, all of you." Nobunaga drew his tachi and pointed the tip toward the southeastern sky. "The battle today is not one I have chosen—Heaven has chosen it. Imagawa Yoshimoto has crawled into Okehazama of his own accord; Heaven has put the sword into my hand. If I do not take it, I will be betraying Heaven!"
"All forces—march!"
Three thousand soldiers shouted in unison. The sound echoed through the valleys, startling birds from the woods.
The sky had turned completely dark. There was no moon, only a few sparse stars giving off a dim light. Oda Nobunaga's force extinguished all their torches and moved silently toward Okehazama through the darkness. The horses' hooves were wrapped in straw, the spears and swords bound with cloth strips. The soldiers bit wooden sticks; no one spoke, no one coughed, even their breathing was deliberately quieted.
Three thousand men, like a pack of wolves stalking through the night, crept silently toward their prey.
Inside the camp at Okehazama, Imagawa Yoshimoto had just finished his third flask of wine that night. He sat on a Tang style chest brought from Kakegawa Castle; before him were several dishes of snacks, and around him sat a few trusted confidants. The camp resounded with laughter and merriment. Soldiers gathered in small groups around campfires, roasting grain taken that day and drinking wine in great gulps, talking loudly. Victory seemed already within reach; everyone wore a smile on his face.
Imagawa Yoshimoto wiped his mouth with his sleeve and said to an attendant, "Tomorrow, we will see the walls of Kiyosu Castle. The day after, Oda Nobunaga's head will be sent to Sunpu. The Imagawa banners will fly over Kyoto at last."
The attendants nodded in agreement and raised their cups to toast their lord.
Outside the camp, the night wind suddenly picked up, making the campfires flicker. A few sentries pulled their coats tight, huddled at the camp gate, and yawned.
"Wind's really up tonight," one sentry grumbled.
The other sentry did not answer, because he had just noticed something moving on the dark mountain path in the distance—a dark, shapeless mass, hugging the ground, flowing silently toward them.
He rubbed his eyes to get a better look.
He never got another chance.
A whistling arrow shrieked through the night sky, its sharp sound piercing the silence of Okehazama.
And then, from every direction at once, the sound of shouting and battle erupted like a mountain toppling wave.