After the Battle of Okehazama, the balance of power in the Tōkaidō was utterly shattered, like an ice surface smashed by a boulder—cracks spreading from the centre in all directions. News that Imagawa Yoshimoto's head had been displayed outside Kiyosu Castle travelled far and wide. Some were horrified, some secretly pleased, but most quietly calculated—in this shifting situation, whose side should they take?
Amid this turmoil, one young man smelled the change in the wind earlier than anyone else.
That was Matsudaira Motoyasu.
Since Okehazama, the young master of the Matsudaira had retreated with his remaining troops to Okazaki Castle in Mikawa. Okazaki was the Matsudaira ancestral home, where his grandfather Matsudaira Kiyoyasu and his father Matsudaira Hirotada had once lived. But years of warfare had left the castle in ruins—walls collapsed, moats silted up, weeds growing on the roof of the tenshu, fewer than a hundred households in the castle town, not even a proper granary. Motoyasu stood before the dilapidated gate for a long time, then removed his helmet and said to his attendants, "Let us begin again."
He embarked on a difficult path of restoration: repairing the castle, summoning old retainers, reassuring the people, and contacting local powerful families in Mikawa. Each step was taken cautiously, as if walking on thin ice. He knew that although Imagawa Ujizane was incompetent, the Imagawa still had a strong foundation; if Ujizane were determined to move against him, his meagre forces would be no match. He also knew that Takeda Shingen to the north and Hōjō Ujiyasu to the east were ravening wolves—everyone wanted a bite of the fat piece of meat that was Mikawa. And he knew that to the west, Oda Nobunaga—the "Great Fool of Owari" who had made his name at Okehazama—was the man he truly had to take seriously.
At this critical juncture, one man stepped forward to build a bridge between the two sides.
His name was Mizuno Nobumoto.
Mizuno Nobumoto was a lord on the border between Mikawa and Owari. His domain was small, but his connections were extensive. His sister was Matsudaira Motoyasu's mother, and through another marriage he was linked to the Oda. Mizuno was short and stout, with a round face and small, always smiling eyes, giving him the look of a friendly merchant. But in his heart, he knew better than anyone—the Imagawa could no longer be relied upon, and if the Oda and the Matsudaira joined forces, it would be good for both.
He went first to Kiyosu Castle to see Oda Nobunaga.
Nobunaga was polishing a newly acquired tachi in the tenshu. When told that Mizuno Nobumoto sought an audience, he had him shown in. Mizuno knelt before Nobunaga and spoke bluntly: "Imagawa Yoshimoto is dead, Imagawa Ujizane is a fool, and the Imagawa will soon collapse. My lord, you have the Saitō of Mino as enemies to the west. If you also antagonise the Matsudaira to the east, you will be fighting on two fronts—that cannot be good for the long term. Matsudaira Motoyasu is young but capable and ambitious. If he could ally with you, your eastern front would be secure, and you could concentrate on advancing west."
Nobunaga put down the tachi and stared at Mizuno for a long time. His eyes were sharp as a hawk's, and Mizuno felt cold sweat run down his back. After a while, Nobunaga suddenly smiled—a smile that made Mizuno's scalp prickle.
"Mizuno," Nobunaga said, "you're a smooth talker. That boy Matsudaira Motoyasu—I've heard of him. He was at Ōtaka Castle during the Okehazama battle, wasn't he? My Sakuma Morishige died at his hands."
Mizuno's heart lurched; he immediately bowed his head. "My lord, that was then—each serving his own master. It could not be helped…"
"I know," Nobunaga waved a hand, cutting him off. "Each serving his own master—nothing more to say. Go back and tell Matsudaira Motoyasu that I, Oda Nobunaga, am not a petty man who nurses grudges. If he truly wishes to ally with me, I welcome it. But if he tries any tricks…"
Nobunaga did not finish the sentence. He merely gave the tachi a light swing; the blade cut the air with a sharp wheee. The sound was like a silent warning, lingering in Mizuno's ears.
Mizuno Nobumoto then went to Okazaki Castle and conveyed Nobunaga's words to Matsudaira Motoyasu.
Motoyasu listened and pondered for a long time.
"Oda Nobunaga," he murmured the name, recalling Nobunaga's cynical smile and those always unreadable eyes. "A difficult man to deal with."
"But my lord," Mizuno urged, "Imagawa Ujizane is unreliable. If you stay with the Imagawa, you will be dragged down. Oda Nobunaga may be hard to deal with, but he is a man of his word. Such a person can be an ally."
Matsudaira Motoyasu thought for a long time. He remembered his childhood years as a hostage in the Oda household, how Nobunaga, for all his craziness, had never bullied him, a stranger's child. He thought of Imagawa Ujizane's foolish face, the humiliation of writing remonstrance upon remonstrance only to have them vanish into silence.
Finally, he nodded.
In the first month of Eiroku 5 (1562), Oda Nobunaga and Matsudaira Motoyasu formally met at Kiyosu Castle and swore an alliance. History knows it as the "Kiyosu Alliance."
That day, Kiyosu Castle was decorated with lanterns and banners, filled with festive spirit. Nobunaga came out to welcome Motoyasu in person. When he saw him, without a word he seized him in a bear hug, pounding Motoyasu's armour until it clattered.
"Motoyasu!" Nobunaga laughed. "You've finally come! I've been waiting for you a long time!"
The pounding nearly winded Motoyasu, but he kept a proper smile on his face and bowed respectfully. "Lord Nobunaga, I have long admired your name. From now on, the Matsudaira and the Oda will share weal and woe, through life and death."
Nobunaga laughed uproariously, put his arm around Motoyasu's shoulder, and walked into Kiyosu Castle like an old friend. The retainers present exchanged glances—these two had been enemies facing each other with drawn swords just a few months ago, and now they were as close as brothers?
After the treaty was signed, Nobunaga did something that took everyone by surprise—he married his daughter to Motoyasu's son.
Though the bride was still an infant, though it was a purely political match, the sincerity surprised even Matsudaira Motoyasu. He knelt before Nobunaga, bowed deeply, and said, "The Matsudaira will never forget Lord Nobunaga's kindness for generations."
From then on, Matsudaira Motoyasu broke completely with the Imagawa. To avoid using the character "Motoyasu" that included the "moto" from Imagawa Yoshimoto's name, he changed his name to Matsudaira Ieyasu. Soon afterwards, he changed his surname to Tokugawa, reviving his ancestors' old name, and called himself Tokugawa Ieyasu.
That year, Tokugawa Ieyasu was twenty one. Oda Nobunaga was twenty nine.
Two young men—one the "Great Fool of Owari," the other the "Little Donkey of Mikawa"—came together. No one imagined that this alliance would last for twenty years, becoming the longest and most stable partnership of the Warring States period.
And Imagawa Ujizane, still living a drunken dream in Sunpu Castle, never knew that he had lost his most valuable chess piece.
With his eastern front stabilised, Nobunaga could finally turn his attention to the enemy to the west—the Saitō clan of Mino.
The tangled history between the Saitō and the Oda was a mess.
The head of the Saitō clan had been Saitō Dōsan. He was the most famous example of "gekokujō" (the lower overthrowing the upper) in the Warring States: a mere oil seller who, through shrewdness and ruthlessness, climbed step by step to become the shugo dai of Mino, finally supplanting his former master, the Toki, and becoming the true ruler of Mino. Poison tongued and full of schemes, he was called the "Viper of Mino."
But this viper, oddly enough, took a liking to Oda Nobunaga.
In the 18th year of Tenbun (1549), Saitō Dōsan married his daughter Kichō (Nōhime) to Nobunaga. Kichō was extraordinarily intelligent. It was said that when she left, Dōsan gave her a short sword and said, "If Nobunaga really is the fool they say he is, use this sword to kill him." Kichō smiled and replied, "Perhaps this sword will be pointed at you, Father."
When Kichō arrived in Owari, she found that Nobunaga was no fool at all, but a genius misunderstood by the world. She became his most trusted partner, and the two grew very close.
Saitō Dōsan grew increasingly pleased with his son in law. In Kōji 1 (1555), Dōsan met Nobunaga at Shōtoku ji in Ōguchi. He had intended to see for himself whether Nobunaga was a horse or a mule; after the meeting, he was astonished by the young man. It is said that after seeing Nobunaga off, Dōsan said to his retainers, "My own sons will be fortunate if they are allowed to hold Nobunaga's stirrup."
When those words reached the ears of Dōsan's son Saitō Yoshitatsu, he was more disgusted than if he had swallowed a fly.
Saitō Yoshitatsu (originally Saitō Shingorō) was Dōsan's eldest son. He stood six foot five (about 1.97 metres), broad shouldered and stout, immensely strong, a famous warrior in Mino. But such a warrior was not favoured by his father. Dōsan favoured his younger son Saitō Ryūtei (also called Sonshirō) and wished to make him heir, gradually pushing Yoshitatsu away.
In Yoshitatsu's heart, resentment grew like a malignant tumour.
In Kōji 1 (1555), Yoshitatsu could no longer contain himself. He launched a coup, killed his two younger brothers—Saitō Ryūtei and Saitō Tatsu — and forced his father to retire. Dōsan fled Inabayama Castle to Sagiyama Castle and wrote a letter to Nobunaga begging for help.
When Nobunaga received the letter, he was handling administrative matters in Kiyosu Castle. He unfolded the paper, saw his father in law's hasty and desperate handwriting, was silent for a moment, and stood up.
"Prepare the troops," he said to an attendant. "To Mino."
But he was too late.
In the fourth month of Kōji 2 (1556), Saitō Yoshitatsu led a large army against Sagiyama Castle. Though Dōsan fought bravely, he was outnumbered and eventually killed in the chaos. It is said that in his last moment, he shouted toward Owari, "Nobunaga, avenge me!"
When the news of his father in law's death reached Nobunaga on the road to Mino, he reined in his horse, sat for a long time, then turned around and withdrew to Kiyosu Castle.
"No use fighting now," he told his retainers. "That bastard Yoshitatsu has turned Mino into an iron barrel. To attack now would be to throw lives away."
Nobunaga withdrew. He did not avenge his father in law—at least, not then. He chose to wait.
After killing his father, Saitō Yoshitatsu changed his name to "Yoshitatsu." The "Yoshi" character was taken from the shōgun's name, to show his legitimacy. He also spread rumours that he was actually a descendant of the Toki clan, not Dōsan's true son—whatever would serve his cause.
For the next several years, Nobunaga launched several campaigns into Mino, trying to avenge his father in law and take the rich province for himself. Each time he gained little. Yoshitatsu was a born commander, with seasoned warriors like Inaba (the Ittetsu), Ujiie (Bokuzen), Andō, and others under his command. Every attack was repelled.
In Eiroku 4 (1561), Saitō Yoshitatsu fell ill and died. His son Saitō Tatsunori succeeded him.
Tatsunori was barely sixteen—a plump, white skinned youth with refined features and elegant manners, more like a scholar than a warrior. In peaceful times, he might have made a decent poet or literatus. But this was the Warring States; he needed an iron fist, not literary talent.
When Nobunaga heard that Yoshitatsu was dead and the new head was a beardless boy, he knew at once—the opportunity had come.
In Eiroku 5 (1562), Oda Nobunaga again marched into Mino.
This time, he used new tactics. Instead of driving straight for Inabayama Castle, he first attacked the western part of Mino—the area around the Kiso River (some sources refer to the Sunomiya region). He crossed the Kiso with a large force, set up camp on Mino soil, and showed every sign of putting down roots.
Saitō Tatsunori assembled his retainers at Inabayama Castle. The young lord sat in the place of honour, playing with a folding fan, a dismissive smile on his face.
"Oda Nobunaga comes to die again," Tatsunori said lightly. "When my father was alive, he could not get in. Now that my father is gone, does he think he can? Pass the order: send the army to Jūjō and give battle!"
Jūjō was a place in western Mino, flat and open, suitable for large scale battle. Tatsunori clearly meant to meet Nobunaga head on and see who had the stronger fist.
On an April morning, the two armies faced each other on the plain of Jūjō.
The Saitō deployed about eight thousand men, their banners bright, their formations imposing. Tatsunori sat on a camp stool, surrounded by veterans like Inaba, Ujiie, and Andō, looking quite imposing. The Oda fielded about five thousand, their formations compact, the soldiers' eyes shining with a wolf like ferocity—men who had fought under Nobunaga for years and were no longer the country bumpkins they had once been.
After a short standoff, Nobunaga waved his war baton and roared, "Attack!"
Shibata Katsuie charged at the head of the vanguard, his great spear before him. That spear was said to weigh three kan (about 11 kg); an ordinary man could hardly hold it with two hands, but Katsuie wielded it with one, like a chopstick. He plunged into the Saitō ranks, crashing left and right as if no enemy existed.
The Saitō were not weak. Inaba Ittetsu (Inaba Yoshimichi) met the attack, and a fierce melee ensued. Swords flashed, battle cries shook the sky, and blood soon soaked the earth.
The fight lasted from dawn until midday—a full four hours of fierce back and forth. Nobunaga's charges were driven back, Tatsunori's counterattacks were repulsed. The field was littered with corpses, the air thick with the stench of blood and sweat.
By the hour of the Monkey (around 4 p.m.), both sides were exhausted. Nobunaga looked at the sky, looked at his battered troops, and finally raised his baton.
"Sound the retreat!"
Gongs echoed over the field. The Oda army withdrew slowly, maintaining tight ranks. The Saitō did not pursue—they had no strength left either.
The Battle of Jūjō ended in a draw.
But Nobunaga knew in his heart that his plan to strike western Mino had not achieved the desired effect. The Saitō's core defences remained as hard as rock. In particular, the Kiso River area was held by a fierce general named I Hayato no Shō.
I Hayato no Shō was a famous Saitō warrior, said to have single handedly killed seventeen enemy soldiers in one battle. He stationed himself in a stronghold on the Kiso River, like a nail fixed firmly in the path of the Oda advance. Several attempts to pull out that nail had been beaten back.
"I Hayato no Shō…" Nobunaga paced in his tent, muttering the name. "That fellow, interesting."
He stopped suddenly and said to Niwa Nagahide, "Nagahide, what if I moved my headquarters to Komaki?"
Niwa stared. "Komaki? My lord means move from Kiyosu to Komaki?"
"Not move—build a new base," Nobunaga said. "Komaki is closer to Mino. Launching attacks from there will save time. Moreover, around Komaki the Saitō have few troops. If we establish ourselves there, it's like planting a flag on their doorstep. Will that boy Tatsunori be able to sleep soundly?"
Niwa Nagahide saw it instantly. "My lord, a brilliant plan!"
In the autumn of Eiroku 5 (1562), Oda Nobunaga built a new headquarters at Mount Komaki in northwestern Owari. Mount Komaki was not a castle but a natural hill, strategically located and easy to defend. Nobunaga built simple fortifications on its summit, set up his command post there, and brought large quantities of supplies and weapons from Kiyosu Castle.
When word reached Inabayama Castle, Saitō Tatsunori's expression darkened.
"Oda Nobunaga means to pitch camp on my doorstep," Tatsunori told his retainers. "We cannot let him go on like this."
He ordered attacks on the Oda positions around Mount Komaki. But Nobunaga had chosen well: the hill was high and steep, easily defended. Several Saitō assaults were easily repelled. Worse still, the mere presence of the Komaki headquarters had a deterrent effect. Some minor lords in western Mino, who had never been wholeheartedly loyal to the Saitō, now saw the Oda banner flying on Mount Komaki and simply defected.
The lord of Inuyama Castle—Oda Nobukiyo, who had long colluded with the Saitō—surrendered under pressure from Nobunaga. The garrison of Kokuze Castle fled at the rumour of the Oda advance, scattering before the army even arrived.
"Moving the main base was exactly the right move," Shibata Katsuie admitted at a military council. "Our lord's insight is sharp."
Nobunaga laughed heartily. "You're just finding that out?"
He pressed his advantage, sending Niwa Nagahide to attack Uruma Castle and Saruyama Castle. These two castles were key Saitō strongholds in western Mino, guarding the vital route to Inabayama Castle. Niwa Nagahide, the steadiest of Nobunaga's generals, was meticulous. He surrounded the castles, and instead of storming them, he first cut off their water supply, then sent envoys to demand surrender. The defender of Uruma, seeing the game was lost, opened the gates. The garrison of Saruyama simply slipped away during the night, leaving an empty castle behind.
Saitō Tatsunori could no longer sit still.
In the spring of Eiroku 6 (1563), Saitō Tatsunori led a large army to attack Kachita Castle.
Kachita (also known as Kajita) Castle lay in the heart of Mino and was strategically important. It had originally been a Saitō fortress, but its lord had recently defected to the Oda, becoming another Oda nail in Mino territory. Tatsunori determined to pull out this nail and blunt Oda Nobunaga's momentum.
At Mount Komaki, Nobunaga received a plea for reinforcements from Kachita. Without a second thought, he led his army to the rescue.
The two armies met again beneath Kachita Castle.
This time, Nobunaga's luck was better than at Jūjō. Soon after the battle began, an Oda general—whose name is lost to history—spotted the Saitō general I Hayato no Shō in the melee. I was on a black horse, holding a long spear, directing the fight, with only a few attendants beside him.
"I Hayato no Shō!" the Oda general shouted, spurring his horse and charging.
I Hayato no Shō turned and saw a blood soaked enemy rushing at him. He sneered, raised his spear, and met the charge. They fought a dozen or so exchanges; I was indeed skilled, but he was old, his strength failing, and he gradually lost ground. The Oda general saw his chance and thrust his spear into I's shoulder. With a cry, I dropped his spear, wheeled his horse, and tried to flee.
"Where do you think you're going!"
The Oda general pursued and drove his spear into I's back. The Saitō warrior fell from his horse and was cut down by Oda soldiers who rushed up.
The death of I Hayato no Shō was a heavy blow to the Saitō. He had been the mainstay of their western line; his fall left a huge gap. When Tatsunori heard the news, his face went pale, and for a long time he could not speak.
Saitō morale collapsed, and Tatsunori had to order a retreat. The siege of Kachita was lifted.
Nobunaga stood on the castle wall, watching the Saitō army flee, and the corners of his mouth lifted.
"I Hayato no Shō," he said quietly, "you will block my path no longer."
Yet the western front of Mino remained a tough nut.
Despite his foothold at Mount Komaki and his victory at Kachita, whenever Nobunaga's army pushed deep into western Mino, it met stubborn resistance. The Saitō had deep roots; one or two victories could not pull them out.
Nobunaga thought it over and decided to try a different approach.
"I used to think only of how to fight my way in," Nobunaga told his retainers. "But after fighting and pulling back, the enemy takes everything back—it's as if we never fought. This time, I'm going to build a castle on Mino soil—a castle belonging only to the Oda. Let them see that we're not just raiding, we're here to stay."
The retainers exchanged uneasy glances. Build a castle on enemy territory? That was no simple matter. Mino was Saitō ground; they had operated there for decades, knew every corner. The Oda trying to build a castle there was like building a shack under a tiger's nose—it could be torn to shreds at any moment.
"That castle," Nobunaga continued, "will surely be isolated. It may even become a death trap."
The hall fell silent.
"Therefore," Nobunaga's gaze swept over every man present, "I need a tough general—someone who is not afraid of death, not afraid of hard work, not afraid of being besieged—to hold it."
A long silence.
Then, from the lowest seat, a voice spoke.
"My lord, Kinoshita Tōkichirō will go."
Everyone turned to look. A short samurai with a peculiar face rose from the lowest seat. He wore a faded hitatare, a short sword at his waist, and a wrinkled headband around his forehead. His face was long, his forehead broad, his chin pointed, and his eyes—large and bright—shone with a light that could not be ignored.
This man was Kinoshita Tōkichirō, later known as Hashiba Hideyoshi, and later still as Toyotomi Hideyoshi.
At this time, Tōkichirō was still an obscure low ranking samurai. He came from a poor background, had no distinguished ancestry, no outstanding martial skill. Through diligence in menial tasks—handing his lord sandals and tea—he had crawled step by step from ashigaru to samurai. But he had something that none of Nobunaga's fierce generals possessed: a fearless ambition, and a mind sharper than any fox's.
Nobunaga looked at Tōkichirō, was silent for a moment, and burst out laughing.
"Excellent!" Nobunaga slapped the table. "Tōkichirō, you're the man! Go to Sunomiya and build me a castle!"
In the autumn of Eiroku 6 (1563), Kinoshita Tōkichirō took a small group of craftsmen and soldiers to the Sunomiya region in western Mino.
It was a desolate riverbank. During the rainy season, the Sunomiya River often flooded, washing away the fields. Reeds and weeds grew taller than a man; hares darted through the thickets; egrets wheeled over the water. From here, one could faintly see the outline of Inabayama Castle—the headquarters of Saitō Tatsunori.
Tōkichirō stood on the riverbank, looked around, and suddenly smiled.
He gathered the local vagrants, rōnin, beggars, and fugitives—those scraping by at the bottom of society. He gave them food, shelter, wages, and set them to work building the castle.
"You won't have to go and die on the battlefield," Tōkichirō told them. "You only need to help me move stones, dig earth, and cut wood. Three meals a day, rice at every meal, with salted fish. What do you say?"
The vagrants' eyes turned green at the mention of food. They scrambled to sign up. Tōkichirō picked out over a hundred of the most able bodied, and by sunrise they were working, continuing until dark.
News soon reached Inabayama Castle.
When Saitō Tatsunori heard that the Oda were building a castle at Sunomiya, he nearly dropped his teacup. "What? Building a castle on my land? Kinoshita Tōkichirō? That monkey faced creature?"
He immediately sent troops to attack Sunomiya.
The Saitō soldiers arrived at the Sunomiya River in high spirits—only to see a sight that left them gaping. Tōkichirō's "castle" was more like a large earthen stockade. The walls were made of wooden stakes and rammed earth, so low a dog could jump over them; the moat was not yet finished; the towers had no proper battlements.
"What kind of castle is that?" the Saitō commander laughed. "Charge!"
But when they got close, they found things were not so simple. Tōkichirō may have had crude materials, but he was a master of laying traps. The grass was full of tripwires and pits. The walls were low, but every few steps stood a pile of stones that could smash a skull. And cleverest of all—Tōkichirō had somehow acquired several dozen arquebuses, which his men fired from behind the walls, keeping the Saitō's heads down.
The first assault was repulsed.
The second assault was also repulsed.
The third, fourth, fifth… every time, Tōkichirō found a new trick. Once the Saitō tried a night raid; Tōkichirō hung paper lanterns along the walls so that from a distance the castle looked full of troops. Thinking they had fallen into a trap, the Saitō turned and ran. Another time, the Saitō cut off the castle's water supply; Tōkichirō had a well dug inside—and indeed struck water.
At Inabayama Castle, Tatsunori stomped in fury. "That monkey—why can't we kill him!"
Unable to succeed by force, Tōkichirō tried a softer approach.
He began using stratagems to sow discord among the Saitō generals. He spread rumours that Tatsunori treated his retainers rudely, that old veterans like Inaba, Ujiie, and Andō were on his blacklist, that he planned to confiscate their lands and give them to his favourites.
These rumours were not groundless. Saitō Tatsunori was indeed a poor lord.
Since inheriting the family, he had spent his days and nights in wine and women, sleeping by day and feasting by night, leaving all affairs to his attendants. He showed no respect to the old retainers who had fought and bled for his father; instead, he often berated them in public, calling them "useless old gluttons." Once, Inaba Ittetsu came to a council in formal attire; Tatsunori mocked him for dressing like a crow, and his young attendants burst into laughter.
Inaba Ittetsu left in anger and thereafter claimed illness and stayed away.
Ujiie Bokuzen suffered similar humiliation. When he remonstrated that Tatsunori should not wallow in wine and women, Tatsunori sneered, "What does an old man like you know?" Ujiie trembled with rage. Returning home, he said to his son, "The Saitō will not last three years."
Andō Iga no Kami (Andō Morinari) was even more disillusioned. A senior Saitō vassal who had served since Dōsan's time, he had performed many great deeds. But Tatsunori not only failed to promote him—he cut Andō's land in half and gave it to a favourite. Andō's sister was Kinoshita Tōkichirō's wife, a connection that later became crucial.
Through his wife, Tōkichirō secretly contacted Andō Morinari. He wrote an earnest letter saying that Oda Nobunaga thirsted for talented men; if Andō would change sides, not only would his lands be restored, but he would receive further rewards. After long hesitation, Andō was persuaded.
With Andō's introduction, Tōkichirō gradually made contact with Inaba Ittetsu and Ujiie Bokuzen. The three old retainers secretly communicated with Nobunaga, expressing their willingness to act as inside agents. Their only request was that after the affair, their lands and family names be preserved.
Nobunaga was overjoyed. He sent gold and a written oath to show his sincerity.
The Saitō house of Mino began to crumble from within.
In the eighth month of Eiroku 10 (1567), the time was ripe.
Oda Nobunaga assembled all his forces at Mount Komaki and announced the final campaign to conquer Mino. Standing on the hill, facing thousands of soldiers, he declared in a loud voice: "Saitō Tatsunori is a fool and a tyrant. He has abandoned his ancestors' commands, murdered the loyal and good, and sunk into wine and women. Such a man does not deserve to be lord of Mino! Today, I, Oda Nobunaga, act for heaven!"
"Act for heaven! Act for heaven!" the soldiers roared in unison, shaking the countryside.
But Nobunaga did not march straight for Inabayama Castle. He did something completely unexpected—he announced that he was going to attack Mikawa.
When the news reached Okazaki Castle, Tokugawa Ieyasu was startled. What was Lord Nobunaga doing? But he quickly understood: it was a feint, a diversion. Ieyasu said nothing, and instead played along. He had banners planted thick along the Mikawa Owari border, making it look as though he was ready for battle.
Saitō Tatsunori fell for it. When he heard that Nobunaga was going east to attack Mikawa, he was overjoyed, thinking he could finally relax. He ordered the main Saitō forces stationed in western Mino to pull back to Inabayama Castle and prepare for a siege.
But that was exactly what Nobunaga wanted.
On the fifteenth day of the eighth month, the night of the Mid Autumn Moon.
The moon shone bright, its light like water. On the tower of Inabayama Castle, Saitō Tatsunori drank and watched the moon with his favourites. After several rounds of sake, his face flushed, he recited a famous waka by Fujiwara no Teika: "Looking out over the plain when the autumn wind blows—not cherry blossoms, but white bush clover."
"Excellent poem, excellent!" his favourites applauded.
Tatsunori was pleased and was about to recite another when he heard a rumbling in the distance. At first it was faint, like faraway thunder, but it grew closer and louder until it seemed the mountains were collapsing.
"What is that?" Tatsunori stood up, staggered to the parapet, and looked out.
The sight sobered him.
Under the moonlight, countless torches, like a fiery dragon, were winding toward Inabayama Castle from the west. The light of the torches lit up the night sky—and also illuminated the man on horseback, wearing a gold brown nanban dō gusoku, Oda Nobunaga.
"Oda… Oda Nobunaga?!" Tatsunori's voice cracked. "But… wasn't he attacking Mikawa?"
No one could answer him.
Nobunaga's army surged to the foot of Inabayama Castle like a tide. Shibata Katsuie assaulted the west gate, Sakuma Nobumori the south gate, Niwa Nagahide the north gate, while Nobunaga himself took command at the east gate. All four sides attacked at once.
At the same time, the inside agents acted.
Inaba Ittetsu, Ujiie Bokuzen, and Andō Morinari set fires in various parts of the castle, creating chaos. The wind fanned the flames. And that night the wind was extraordinarily strong—not ordinary strong, but the kind that could fell trees and tear off roofs. The fires spread quickly, blazing through houses, storehouses, and watchtowers. Thick smoke billowed, sparks flew everywhere.
"Wind! Such wind!" Nobunaga saw the great fire from outside and laughed up to heaven. "Heaven helps me again!"
The inner and outer enclosures of Inabayama Castle became an inferno in the wind. Saitō soldiers fled everywhere—some burned, some trampled to death, some surrendered outright. Tatsunori's favourites slipped away faster than rabbits, none sparing a thought for their lord.
Tatsunori stood on the top floor of the tenshu, looking at the sea of fire around him. His drunkenness vanished, his face pale as paper. His hands trembled, his legs shook. He tried to draw his sword, but the scabbard caught. He tried to call out, but his throat seemed blocked.
"My lord! Quick!" A loyal retainer rushed up to the tenshu and dragged Tatsunori away.
Stumbling, Tatsunori followed the retainer down a secret passage at the rear of the castle—a tunnel Dōsan had secretly dug long ago for emergencies. Tatsunori crawled into the tunnel like a frightened rat, his back to the towering flames.
Day broke.
Inabayama Castle had completely fallen into Oda Nobunaga's hands. The great fires had died down, leaving only blackened ruins and wisps of smoke. The air reeked of burning; the ground was covered with ashes and broken tiles; here and there lay charred corpses, huddled in corners, their features unrecognisable.
Oda Nobunaga rode into Inabayama Castle. His horse's hooves made soft thuds on the ashes. He looked around at the castle he had dreamed of for ten years. On his face was no smile, no tears, only a profound, relieved expression.
"Take care of Saitō Tatsunori's family and retainers," Nobunaga said calmly. "No indiscriminate killing."
"Yes, my lord!"
After fleeing Inabayama Castle, Saitō Tatsunori ran west. He went first to Ōmi Province to seek shelter with the Rokkaku, but the Rokkaku were negotiating peace with the Oda and dared not harbour him. Then he went to Settsu to join the Miyoshi, but the Miyoshi were in turmoil themselves and had no wish to take in a defeated fugitive.
Tatsunori wandered for a long time in Settsu, tasting every bitterness the world could offer. In ragged clothes, eating coarse food, sleeping under temple eaves, he consorted with beggars. The young nobleman who had once drunk wine and admired the moon at Inabayama was now more wretched than a stray dog.
In the end, he took service with the Asakura of Echizen Province. The Asakura gave him a minor post and a few hundred men to guard a border post.
In the fourth year of Genki (1573), the Asakura fought a decisive battle against Oda Nobunaga. Saitō Tatsunori went to battle as an Asakura general. During the fighting, he was struck by a stray Oda arrow, fell from his horse, and died.
Thus the Saitō clan perished.
Oda Nobunaga settled into Inabayama Castle.
He ordered the burnt castle towers repaired, the ruins cleared, the defences rebuilt. He summoned craftsmen from all over Mino and built a new tenshu, taller, stronger, and more magnificent than the old one.
One day, Nobunaga stood on the top floor of the tenshu, leaning on the railing and gazing into the distance. To the north were ranges of mountains; to the south, vast plains; east, Mikawa; west, Ōmi, and beyond that, Kyōto.
He suddenly asked Kinoshita Tōkichirō beside him, "Tōkichirō, do you know where King Wen of Zhou started from?"
Tōkichirō blinked and scratched his head. "My lord, I haven't read much history… I'm not sure…"
"Mount Qi," Nobunaga said. "King Wen of Zhou started from Mount Qi and eventually took the whole realm."
Tōkichirō saw the point and nodded vigorously.
"From today," Nobunaga said, "this castle is no longer called Inabayama. It is renamed—Gifu Castle."
The two characters "Gi" (from Mount Qi) and "Fu" (from Qufu, the birthplace of Confucius) proclaimed Nobunaga's ambition to the world: like King Wen of Zhou, he would begin from Gifu and ultimately unify the realm.
Not long afterwards, Nobunaga moved his headquarters from Komaki to Gifu Castle. In the castle he had a large seal carved, bearing the four characters "Tenka Fubu"—"Subdue the Realm by Force." This seal impressed on documents was his signature, his sworn oath.
"Subdue the Realm by Force"—it was Oda Nobunaga's dream, the dream of countless warlords of the Warring States. But only he dared to carve those four characters on his seal and speak them aloud.
Standing on the tenshu of Gifu Castle, Oda Nobunaga looked toward the western sky. There lay Kyōto. There lay the Emperor. There lay the Shōgun. There lay everything he wanted.
But he knew in his heart that the road ahead was still long.
He had taken Mino; next was Ōmi. After Ōmi, the capital region. After the capital region, the western provinces. After the western provinces, Kyūshū, Shikoku, Kantō, Ōu… The realm was vast; he had not yet covered half of it.
That did not matter.
He had survived dead ends like Okehazama. What was there to fear?
Nobunaga turned and walked down from the tenshu. His steps were firm and powerful; each footfall made the floorboards boom.
The sound was like a war drum.
One beat. And then the next. Beating toward the realm.