In the late autumn of Eiroku 10 (1567), Oda Nobunaga stood on the tenshu of Gifu Castle, the autumn wind tugging at his robes. His gaze passed over the mountains of Mino and fixed on the distant north—on Shinano, on Kai, on the domain of Takeda Harunobu, the man known as the "Tiger of Kai."
Takeda Harunobu (later Takeda Shingen) was a name that thundered in the ears of every daimyō. He was a master of military strategy, especially cavalry warfare; his red armoured akazonaecavalry rampaged across the Kantō, unstoppable. The Kōshū Hatto (the laws he established) laid the foundation of Takeda rule, and his battle flag bearing the words "Fūrinkazan"—"Wind, Forest, Fire, Mountain," taken from Sun Tzu's Art of War—led his forces to victory wherever it went. The Murakami and Ogasawara of Shinano, the Uesugi and Hōjō of the Kantō—all had been crushed before him.
Though Nobunaga was famously fearless, he was no fool. He knew that a direct clash with Takeda Harunobu would be like throwing an egg against a stone. The plains of Owari and Mino were suited for arquebuses and massed foot soldiers, but the mountains of Kai were the domain of the Takeda cavalry. Fighting the Takeda's akazonae in the mountains was suicide.
"Takeda Harunobu," Nobunaga murmured the name and suddenly smiled. "Better to have this tiger as a friend than an enemy."
After long deliberation, he hit upon an idea—marriage.
Nobunaga was never bound by convention. He could marry his daughter to an enemy's son (like Tokugawa Ieyasu) or give his sister to a former opponent (like Azai Nagamasa); he could even adopt an unrelated woman as his daughter and use her as a political pawn. In his eyes, marriage was not about romance—it was a chessboard for ensnaring the realm.
This time, he chose an adopted daughter—the Lady Tōyama.
She was the daughter of Tōyama Katsumasa, lord of Naegi Castle. The Tōyama had been a powerful local clan in eastern Mino for generations and were closely tied to the Oda. Since Nobunaga's younger sister had married Tōyama Katsumasa, the Lady Tōyama was actually Nobunaga's niece. The young woman was said to be graceful and comely, gentle in temperament, just fifteen years old—in the full bloom of youth. Nobunaga adopted her as his own daughter, assembled a lavish betrothal gift—a hundred ryō of gold, ten tachi, a hundred bolts of silk, fifty arquebuses—and sent an eloquent retainer to the Tsutsujigasaki Hall in Kai Province to propose a marriage alliance with Takeda Harunobu.
The retainer was Oda Sōsuke, a distant kinsman of the Oda, handsome and silver tongued. Leading a long procession of gift bearers, he crossed mountains and valleys, travelling for two full weeks before finally reaching Kai.
Takeda Harunobu received him at Tsutsujigasaki. The "Tiger of Kai," now forty six years old, had grey hair and a gaunt face, but his eyes were still sharp as an eagle's. He wore a plain hitatare and at his waist hung only an unremarkable short sword—a stark contrast to Nobunaga's ostentation. Yet this very plainness conveyed an unassailable dignity.
"Sōsuke dono," Harunobu said in a low, resonant voice, "Lord Nobunaga sends you to propose marriage. For what purpose?"
Oda Sōsuke knelt below the dais and delivered Nobunaga's message with neither obsequiousness nor arrogance. He stressed Nobunaga's deep respect for the Takeda and his admiration for Lord Harunobu, as well as the bright prospect of "mutual watchfulness and joint defence against external enemies" after the two houses became kin. Finally, he added a pointed remark: "Lord Nobunaga now holds Owari and Mino. From here he can march west to the capital or provide support to the east. If the Takeda and the Oda form an alliance, the Takeda need fear nothing from the west and can devote themselves fully to dealing with the Hōjō and the Uesugi."
Takeda Harunobu was silent for a moment, then broke into a faint smile—a barely perceptible curl of the lips, but those who knew him well could see that he was pleased.
Harunobu was a pragmatist. In his view, Oda Nobunaga's rise had been spectacular, but his foundations were still not entirely secure. To the west, Ōmi and the capital region held many enemies yet to be subdued; in the short term, Nobunaga would not look east toward Kai. The Takeda's greatest enemies were Hōjō Ujiyasu and Uesugi Kenshin—one in the Kantō, one in Echigo, gripping the Takeda like a pair of pliers. An alliance with the Oda would secure the Takeda's western flank, allowing him to concentrate on his eastern foes.
Moreover, Nobunaga's gifts were generous. Those arquebuses were exactly what the Takeda needed.
"Go back and tell Lord Nobunaga," Harunobu finally said, "I accept the match."
Oda Sōsuke was overjoyed and bowed deeply in thanks.
In the spring of Eiroku 11 (1568), the Lady Tōyama, escorted by Oda retainers, wedded into the Takeda. The groom was Takeda Harunobu's fourth son, Takeda Katsuyori.
Katsuyori was twenty two at the time, the most valiant of Harunobu's many sons. He had inherited his mother's looks: thick eyebrows, large eyes, a powerful physique, and he excelled especially at horse riding and archery. Among the younger generation of the Takeda, he stood out. Yet his birth was a little awkward—his mother was a daughter of the Suwa clan. After Harunobu destroyed the Suwa, he took that daughter as a concubine, and she gave birth to Katsuyori. Thus, though Katsuyori was Harunobu's son by blood, he was not in line to succeed as head of the Takeda—that was the eldest son, Takeda Yoshinobu. But Yoshinobu had fallen out with his father, been confined, and later forced to commit suicide, leaving the succession open. Harunobu chose Katsuyori as his heir, adopting him into the Suwa family and allowing him to succeed under the name "Suwa Shirō Katsuyori."
Katsuyori seemed quite pleased with his new wife. The Lady Tōyama was gentle and virtuous, and she took good care of him. Shortly after the wedding, she conceived.
In Eiroku 12 (1569), the Lady Tōyama gave birth to a boy, whom they named Takeda Nobukatsu.
When the news reached Gifu Castle, Nobunaga was overjoyed. He rewarded the messenger on the spot and ordered lavish gifts sent to Kai in congratulations.
"My adopted niece has given birth to the heir of the Takeda," Nobunaga said to his retainers, laughing. "From now on, even if Takeda Harunobu wanted to fight me, he'd have to think twice, wouldn't he?"
His retainers nodded in agreement, but some of the more cautious ones secretly worried—alas, the Lady Tōyama died soon after giving birth.
The Lady Tōyama's death might have weakened the bond between the two families, but Nobunaga was not about to let it break. He pressed his advantage and made a new request to Takeda Harunobu: that Harunobu give his own daughter in marriage to Nobunaga's legitimate son, Oda Nobutada.
Again, Harunobu agreed.
This second marriage was even more lavish. The daughter of Takeda Harunobu—according to historical records, possibly his daughter Princess Matsu—married Oda Nobutada. The two houses were now doubly related, an exceptionally close relationship in the Warring States.
Harunobu agreed so readily not only because he admired Nobunaga's talent and courage, but also for practical reasons. At that time, the Takeda were entangled with the Hōjō and the Uesugi and badly needed a reliable ally to the west. And Nobunaga, in turn, needed the Takeda to pin down enemies on his eastern flank. The two men—one the "Fool of Owari," the other the "Tiger of Kai"—had never met, yet each respected the other's ability. This mutual admiration was a rare bright spot in the chaos of the Warring States.
With the tiger to the east pacified, Nobunaga turned his gaze north—to the Azai clan of Ōmi Province.
Ōmi lay west of Mino and was the strategic throat leading to Kyōto. Ōmi was divided into two parts: southern Ōmi was ruled by the Rokkaku, old enemies of the Oda, with whom Nobunaga had fought inconclusive battles for years; northern Ōmi was under the Azai, a quieter clan that had nevertheless established deep roots in the Hokkoku region over several generations.
The head of the Azai was a young man named Azai Nagamasa.
Nagamasa was only twenty four, but he was already a famous figure in Ōmi. Tall and handsome, skilled in martial arts and versed in governance, he had an excellent reputation among the people of Hokkoku. He had married a daughter of the Rokkaku of southern Ōmi, but the couple were estranged and lived apart.
It was Azai Nagamasa that Nobunaga had in view.
He planned to marry his younger sister—the famously beautiful Oichi—to Azai Nagamasa.
Oichi was Nobunaga's half sister, just over twenty years old, with skin like congealed cream, eyes like stars. One smile could charm a city; a second could charm a kingdom. Nobunaga doted on this sister and had never allowed her to suffer the slightest hardship. To marry her to a man she had never met was not easy for him. But he knew that in the face of the realm, personal feelings counted for nothing.
Once again, a messenger set out, carrying Nobunaga's personal letter and generous betrothal gifts, heading for the Azai home castle—Odani Castle.
Azai Nagamasa received the Oda emissary in the honmaru hall of Odani Castle. After reading Nobunaga's letter, he thought for a long time, then slowly shook his head.
"Please reply to Lord Nobunaga," Nagamasa said. "I am deeply honoured by his kindness. But the Azai have been on friendly terms with the Asakura for generations. The Asakura are our old allies. If I enter into a marriage alliance with the Oda, it will inevitably affect my relations with the Asakura. This matter… I must give it further thought."
The messenger returned empty handed.
The Asakura were the great daimyō of Echizen Province, one of the most powerful forces in the Hokuriku region. The Asakura and the Azai had been allies since their grandfathers' days, supporting each other militarily and politically. Nagamasa's ability to maintain his position in Hokkoku owed much to Asakura backing. His fear was: if he married an Oda woman, what would the Asakura think? Would they consider it a betrayal—the Azai abandoning an old ally for an upstart from Owari?
When Nobunaga heard the messenger's report, he did not get angry. He merely smiled and said, "Azai Nagamasa is a cautious man. Cautious men are easy to deal with."
He wrote a long letter himself and sent it again to Odani Castle. This time, there were no flowery phrases, no grand promises—only a straightforward analysis of the interests involved. Nobunaga wrote:
"I, Oda Nobunaga, have my heart set on the realm. I am determined to march to the capital to pay homage to His Majesty. The capital region is overrun by villains such as the Miyoshi and the Matsunaga; the imperial court is in disarray. To go to the capital, I must pass through Ōmi. Whether I face your house as an enemy or as a friend depends entirely on you, Lord Nagamasa. If we are enemies, we will both be hurt; if we are friends, we will both share the benefits. As for the Asakura, I have no quarrel with them. If your house is willing to ally with me, I will treat the Asakura with courtesy and never put you in a difficult position."
The letter was frank and direct, without the slightest evasion. Nobunaga laid his cards on the table: "I am going to the capital. If you help me, we will feast together; if you do not help me, I will not force you—but do not block my way."
Azai Nagamasa read the letter and thought for three whole days.
He invited his father, Azai Hisamasa (now retired), to join him in a private discussion. Hisamasa was a conservative man, opposed to a marriage with the Oda, saying, "Oda Nobunaga's reputation is poor; the Asakura are reliable old friends." But Nagamasa saw things differently. He keenly sensed that the tide of the age was turning—Oda Nobunaga was a rising star, while the Asakura were in decline. It was better to seize the new opportunity than to cling to a waning alliance.
"Father," Nagamasa said, "Oda Nobunaga defeated forty thousand Imagawa troops with only three thousand at Okehazama. His courage and ability are beyond ordinary measure. Such a man will surely achieve great things. If the Azai join hands with him, the north of Ōmi can enjoy a hundred years of peace."
Hisamasa was silent for a long time, then sighed. "You are grown. Make your own decision."
In the autumn of Eiroku 10 (1567), Azai Nagamasa and Oichi were married.
The wedding feast at Odani Castle was a lively affair. Nobunaga came from Gifu Castle, drank a great deal of sake, and could not stop smiling. He watched his younger sister, dressed in a white uchikake and wearing a tsunokakushi headdress, walk into the hall supported by her attendants. His eyes reddened slightly.
"Oichi," Nobunaga said in a low voice that only his closest attendant could hear, "this is unfair to you."
Then he turned back into the boisterous, laughing man, took Azai Nagamasa's hand, and downed three large bowls of sake in a row.
Azai Nagamasa, seven years younger than his new "brother in law," had mixed feelings as he looked at Nobunaga. The contrast between Nobunaga's rough, unbridled nature and his own refined, reserved temperament was stark. Yet strangely, the two very different men felt an immediate affinity.
From then on, the Oda and the Azai were bound by marriage, and northern Ōmi became a vital passage for Nobunaga's western advance.
Oda Nobunaga's fame, following his victories and marriage alliances, spread outward like ripples on water. Owari, Mino, northern Ōmi, Kai—his name reached every corner of Japan. Even the imperial court in Kyōto finally took notice of this "country daimyō" from the east.
In the spring of Eiroku 11 (1568), a messenger from the capital arrived at Gifu Castle, travel worn and dusty.
He was Tachiwaki Yoritaka, a mid ranking court official with the title of Sakyo no Daibu. He was thin, with a kindly face, wearing a faded official robe that looked a little shabby in front of Gifu Castle's imposing tenshu.
Nobunaga came out to receive him in person. Though he was overbearing with his own retainers, he was scrupulously courteous to an imperial messenger. Dressed in formal attire, he bowed respectfully at the castle gate, then escorted Tachiwaki to the honmaru hall.
Tachiwaki read the imperial decree. Written in classical Chinese with ornate phrases, the content was simple: the court was short of funds and hoped that Oda Nobunaga would make a contribution to the treasury. In return, the court would grant him a higher rank and recognise his rule over Owari and Mino.
Most daimyō of the time would have scoffed at such a "request for money." But Oda Nobunaga was different. He took the decree respectfully, raised it above his head with both hands, and said in a loud voice, "Your subject, Oda Nobunaga, receives the imperial command!"
Tachiwaki was astonished. He had expected to have to argue and had even braced himself for a refusal. He never imagined that the legendary "Great Fool of Owari" would be so compliant.
Nobunaga ordered a hundred ryō of gold, ten tachi, and fifty bolts of silk brought from his treasury immediately—enough to fill three ox carts—and gave them to Tachiwaki to take back to Kyōto.
"Tell His Majesty," Nobunaga said to Tachiwaki, "that Oda Nobunaga may be a country rustic, but his loyalty to the court is second to none. Should the court ever need anything, simply ask."
Tachiwaki was so moved he almost wept. In Kyōto he had seen many daimyō who mouthed "revere the Emperor" but treated the court as little more than a useless ornament. A man like Nobunaga, who genuinely (or at least ostensibly) served the court, was something he had not seen in many years.
After Tachiwaki left, Nobunaga waved the imperial decree in the hall and laughed uproariously.
"With this," he shouted, "I have my excuse to enter the capital!"
His retainers finally understood—Nobunaga had been so generous to the court not because he was a "loyal retainer" but because he needed the court's endorsement. The Emperor's decree, Emperor Ōgimachi's recognition, was a source of legitimacy that no daimyō could deny. With this decree, attacking the enemies in the capital region would no longer be "invasion" but "quelling rebellion"; entering Kyōto would no longer be "seizing" but "coming to the court's aid."
This subtle distinction was something Nobunaga saw more clearly than anyone.
The situation in Kyōto was indeed a mess.
Since the Ōnin War, Kyōto had never known peace. The Hosokawa, Miyoshi, Matsunaga, Ashikaga—they had come and gone like a revolving lantern. One day this man controlled the shōgun; the next, that man set fire to the palace; the next, someone else installed a new shōgun. Caught among these contending forces, the imperial court was desperate and impoverished, able to arrange an emperor's enthronement ceremony only by relying on donations from provincial daimyō.
In Eiroku 8 (1565), the Miyoshi and Matsunaga Hisahide staged a coup and murdered Shōgun Ashikaga Yoshiteru. Yoshiteru, the 13th Ashikaga shōgun, was a master of martial arts, but he could not overcome so many enemies and was cut down. His younger brother, Ashikaga Yoshiaki, fled Kyōto and wandered from place to place, seeking the protection of various daimyō in the hope of returning to the capital and restoring the shogunate.
Yoshiaki first sought help from the Rokkaku, then the Takeda, then the Asakura. But each had its own agenda, and none was willing to raise an army for him. Yoshiaki was kicked about like a ball, suffering greatly.
When Nobunaga learned of this, he was stirred. Ashikaga Yoshiaki might be a perfect piece on the chessboard. If he could support Yoshiaki's return to the capital and restore him as shōgun, then the Oda could enter Kyōto under the legitimate banner of "protecting the shōgun and serving the court" and from there command the realm.
But first, he had to eliminate a potential threat—Ise Province.
Ise lay southwest of Owari, bordering Mino, Owari, Ōmi, and Iga. It possessed the fertile Ise Plain and excellent harbours, making it strategically crucial. Even more important, Ise was on the southern route to the capital region—if Nobunaga marched west and an enemy in Ise stabbed him in the back, the consequences would be disastrous.
Standing before a map in Gifu Castle, Nobunaga pointed at Ise Province and said to his retainers, "Look. Ise is like a nail stuck into our side. If I don't pull out that nail, I won't be able to sleep at night."
The great lord of Ise Province was Kitabatake Tomonori.
The Kitabatake were a powerful local clan in Ise, holding the title of Ise no Kami for generations, descendants of the Southern Court noble Kitabatake Chikafusa. Tomonori himself was a skilled warrior, wielding a great long handled spear, and was known as the "Demon of Ise." He had ruled Ise for decades, had deep roots, and commanded a host of fierce generals. Moreover, the Kitabatake maintained relations with the Rokkaku, the Asakura, and others; if Nobunaga attacked them, those houses might send reinforcements.
A direct assault was clearly not the best strategy.
Nobunaga decided to try diplomacy before force. He sent an envoy to Ise, expressing a wish for "peaceful coexistence" and offering to send his own son—Oda Nobukatsu—to the Kitabatake as a hostage to show his sincerity.
Kitabatake Tomonori was a clever man. He saw through Nobunaga's intention at once—the hostage was a pretext, a way to find an excuse later. But he also knew that with Nobunaga's current power, refusing his "goodwill" might bring disaster. After long hesitation, he agreed to a compromise: he would adopt Oda Nobukatsu as his son and marry his own daughter to Nobukatsu.
Thus the Oda and the Kitabatake became linked by marriage, and for the time being Ise would not pose a threat.
Nobunaga was not entirely satisfied. He wanted not "temporarily no threat" but "complete control." Yet he knew better than to rush. Kitabatake Tomonori was no wine soaked fool like Saitō Tatsunori; pushing him too hard would backfire.
"Keep him stable for now," Nobunaga told his retainers. "After I return from the capital, I will deal with Ise at my leisure."
He patted the map over Kyōto, then over Ise, then stood up and strode out of the hall.
Outside, the spring sunshine was fine. In the fields below Gifu Castle, farmers bent over, transplanting tender green seedlings into the paddies. The distant mountains were veiled in thin mist.
Oda Nobunaga took a deep breath, drinking in the scent of earth and grass—and the scent of the realm's rising smoke.
Soon, he thought. Soon.
From Okehazama to Mino, from Mino to Ōmi, from Ōmi to Ise… step by step he had advanced, using the sword where it worked and marriage and diplomacy where the sword alone could not. Now, to the east he had the Takeda as allies, to the north the Azai, to the south Ise temporarily pacified, and to the west the capital region was almost within reach.
All that remained was to take that final step.
He turned back into the hall and began laying out his next plans. Provisions to prepare, forces to reorganise, Ashikaga Yoshiaki to be taken from the Asakura's hands, contacts with the court to be strengthened… One by one, in fine detail, he oversaw everything himself.
This time, no one dared to call him the "Great Fool of Owari."