Bitchu-Takamatsu. Rain.

  Roars that seemed to tear through the silence erupted from all directions. Having just witnessed the ritual suicide of Muneharu　Shimizu, the main camp of the Hashiba army was engulfed in a storm of frantic activity.

  "All units, get out of this mud immediately! Load all heavy equipment onto the ships!"

  Hideyoshi’s command thundered. By the vast dike built for the flood attack, countless requisitioned warships and civilian vessels crowded together, tossing in the rough waves. Soldiers, their feet snagged by the mire, were literally crawling as they hauled flintlock crates, heavy ammunition boxes, and massive siege engines onto the boats.

  "Those traveling by land, lighten your load! Take nothing but a single spear and the ration pills at your waist! We will borrow the winds of the Seto Inland Sea and race to Himeji faster than our cargo!"

  Sending supplies by sea to make the land-bound troops as light as feathers—this rational division of labor between land and sea was the lifeline of the marching speed that would later be called a "miracle." The soldiers did not know this yet. Driven by Hideyoshi’s murderous impatience, tens of thousands of men began to run east, covered in mud.

  As dusk fell that day, amidst a downpour that hammered the earth, Hideyoshi stood face-to-face with Kanbe’e Kuroda in a corner of the main camp. Outside, the rhythmic pounding of marching feet, the clattering of armor, and the neighing of horses splashing through mud echoed incessantly like a low tremor of the earth.

  "Kanbe’e... are you certain? Did Mitsuhide truly fail to take the Lord’s head?"

  Hideyoshi’s voice was low and damp. His eyes were a murky mix of the shock of losing his master, the terror of his own potential destruction, and the ambition for the immense opportunity flickering just beyond.

  Kanbe’e had used his secret network of "Senryu" to covertly spirit the body away from the charred ruins of Honno-ji. No matter how frantically Mitsuhide dug through the ashes, Nobunaga’s head would never be found. Yet, Kanbe’e did not speak this truth; he merely presented it to Hideyoshi as a "fragment of intelligence."

  "There is no mistake. According to the reports from the Ninja I have deployed, no recognizable remains were found in the ruins of Honno-ji. Mitsuhide is still searching Kyoto with bloodshot eyes. He does not refrain from displaying the head out of some sense of principle... he simply does not have it."

  Hideyoshi shot a sharp, piercing look at Kanbe’e for a moment. He sensed that Kanbe’e was hiding something—perhaps a darkness deeper than he could imagine. But Hideyoshi swallowed that suspicion. The "fact" that there was no head was the most powerful weapon in this situation.

  "I see... No head, eh? That bastard Mitsuhide, he was sloppy. He couldn't calculate until the very end..."

  The corners of Hideyoshi’s mouth curled upward. The mask of the "tragic vassal" who had lost Nobunaga peeled away, revealing a beast staring at a prize called Tenka—the realm.

  "Kanbe’e. If there’s no head, then the Lord is alive. That’s what I’ve decided. Since there is no proof, my word becomes the truth. As long as Mitsuhide can’t show that head, we win... This is a gamble for the world!"

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  Hideyoshi immediately grabbed a brush and began scrawling a letter of false intelligence addressed to the lords of Settsu. Each stroke was so forceful the paper nearly tore. It was a cold, brilliant manipulation aimed at men like Ukon Takayama and Kiyohide Nakagawa, who were still caught in the chaos, weighing which side to join.

  'A swift report.

  I am astonished to hear that Mitsuhide Akechi raised a rebellion in Kyoto on the 2nd.

  However, there is no need for concern. Fortunately, the Lord fought his way out of Honno-ji and escaped safely. I have received certain word that he is currently recovering his strength near Zeze in Omi Province.

  Our Hashiba army has already made peace with the Mori. We withdraw from Bitchu this very day and shall race back to Kyoto day and night. We will enter Settsu within days to annihilate the rebel Akechi to the last man.

  Do not, under any circumstances, be swayed by Mitsuhide’s sweet words. Join forces with us and fulfill your loyalty to the Lord. If you take this chance to join our side, your future rewards shall be as you desire.

  Respectfully,

  June 5th

  Hideyoshi Hashiba(Seal)'

  "The Lord is alive—"

  This "living lie" became the ultimate poison for the generals wavering in their loyalty to Mitsuhide, and yet, a thread of salvation like a spider's silk. This single sheet of paper would determine the fate of tens of thousands.

  June 7th. A death march of eighteen ri (approximately 70 kilometers) from Bitchu to Himeji. The soldiers ran without sleep or rest until finally, the white walls of their home base, Himeji Castle, entered their vision.

  The soldiers who passed through the gates no longer looked human. Covered in dried mud with sunken eyes, they looked like vengeful ghosts. Some collapsed as if their life-threads had snapped the moment they crossed the threshold; others, unable to endure the thirst, plunged their faces into the horses' troughs.

  "Kanbe’e, Koichiro, Koroku, Sakichi (Ishida Mitsunari)... you all... you made it back!"

  Hideyoshi’s voice trembled at the sight of the wretched exhaustion of the soldiers filling the courtyard.

  "But the men’s legs are like lead. Their nails are torn; many cannot take another step. If we don’t let them rest for three or four days, they’ll be useless in battle..."

  However, Kanbe’e’s eyes remained as cold as ice.

  "My Lord, that cannot be. One day of rest is ten days of leeway for Mitsuhide. Open all the castle’s storehouses immediately. Give as much gold and rice as each soldier can grab. And spread the word: 'This gold is not a war fund to strike down Mitsuhide. It is a celebratory gift for my Lord to seize the realm!'"

  Hideyoshi’s brother, Koichiro grabbed Hideyoshi’s shoulder firmly, aligning himself with that madness.

  "Brother, Kanbe’e is right. We aren’t fishing for them with gold; we are showing them a dream. Make even the lowest foot soldier believe they are 'comrades' opening the doors to the realm with you. If you do that, they won't even hear the sound of their own bones snapping."

  Hideyoshi looked back and forth between the two men who were like extensions of himself, and finally let out a laugh that seemed to erupt from the depths of his gut.

  "Gahahaha! You two say the most wicked things... But that’ll work best! Break all the locks on the storehouses! We haven't even the time to unlock them! Tell the men, 'From tomorrow, every one of you is a vassal to the ruler of the world!'"

  As the storehouse doors were smashed open, a heavy, metallic scent of dull-shining gold, silver, and old copper coins wafted out along with the chilled air. Hideyoshi took a ladle himself and began throwing handfuls of coins into the mud-stained palms of the soldiers.

  "I’ve bought your lives with this gold! Choose whether to take it as a souvenir to the afterlife or make it the foundation of the realm!"

  The soldiers, their nails torn, gripped the coins tight. At the heavy, clinking weight of the metal, they let out a roar like wild beasts. Hunger and fatigue evaporated before the cold brilliance pressing into their palms.

  That night, Himeji Castle was bathed in the dazzling light of gold and an indescribable frenzy. The army, which should have been exhausted to the limit, had transformed into something far more savage—a religious cult that feared no death.

  The heavy equipment that had arrived by sea joined them. The soldiers gripped new spears, their pockets filled with gold. The flames of tens of thousands of torches filling the castle town illuminated Hideyoshi’s burning ambition in vivid crimson.

  Produced and written by a Japanese author, rooted in authentic Japanese history. Translated with the assistance of Gemini (AI).