A corps of about two hundred men who were ready to win or die had readied their spears beforehand and were waiting for the moment. As soon as they were given the command to advance, they were to rush out into the direction of Nagakute. It was in Shonyu's character to choose unusual battle tactics even at a time like this. The unit of attack troops received the command, circled around Nagakute, and aimed at the troops that remained after the Tokugawa's left wing had pushed forward. The plan was to swiftly attack the enemy's center and, when the enemy's battle array was in confusion, to capture the commander-in-chief, Tokugawa Ieyasu.
The plan, however, did not succeed. Discovered by the Tokugawa before reaching their objective, they received a heavy fusillade of musket fire and were brought to a standstill in a swampy area where it was difficult to move. Unable to advance or retreat, they sustained pitiful losses.
Nagayoshi looked out at the battle situation from Gifugadake and clicked his tongue. “Ah, they were sent too early," he cried out. "It's not like my father-in-law to be so impatient." Today it was the young man who, in every situation, was far more composed than his father-in-law. In fact, Nagayoshi was resolved in his heart that that day was to be the day of his death. With no other thoughts or distractions, he simply looked straight ahead at the commander's stool under the golden fan in the foothills in front of him.
If only I can kill Ieyasu, he thought. Ieyasu, for his part, kept his eye on Gifugadake more than on any other area, aware that the spirit in Nagayoshi's ranks was high. When a scout informed him about the way Nagayoshi was dressed that day, he issued a warning to the men around him.
"Nagayoshi appears to be dressed in his death outfit today, and there's nothing more intimidating than an enemy determined to die. Don't make light of him and be taken in by the god of death."
Thus, the confrontation was not going to be easily initiated by either side. Nagayoshi watched his opponent's movements, feeling in his heart that if the battle at Tanojiri intensified, Ieyasu would not be able to look on simply as a spectator. Surely he would detach a division of soldiers and send them as reinforcements. And with that opportunity Nagayoshi would strike. But Ieyasu was not going to be taken in easily.
"Nagayoshi is fiercer than most men. If he's this quiet, it's certain that he's up to something."
But the situation at Tanojiri betrayed Nagayoshi's expectations, and the signs of the Ikeda brothers' defeat were coming thick and fast. Finally he resolved that he could wait no longer. But just at that moment, the commander's standard with the golden fan that had remained invisible until now was suddenly raised in the foothills where Ieyasu waited.
Half of Ieyasu's army dashed toward Tanojiri, while the remaining men raised their voices and attacked Gifugadake.
Nagayoshi's troops charged out to meet them, and with the collision of the two armies, the lowland area of Karasuhazama was turned into a whirlpool of blood.
The gunfire was unceasing. It was a desperate battle in a place hemmed in by hills, and the whinnying of horses and the clanging of long swords and spears echoed back and forth. The voices of the warriors calling out their names to their opponents shook heaven and earth.
Soon there was not a single position unengaged throughout the narrow confines of the area, not a single commander or soldier who was not fighting for his life. Just as some troops appeared to be victorious, they crumbled; and just as others seemed to be defeated, they struck through. No one knew who had won, and for a while it was a battle in the dark.
Some men were struck down and killed, while others were victorious and called out their own names. Of those who received wounds, some were called cowards, while others were praised as brave men. If an observer looked carefully, however, he could see that each individual was hurrying along toward eternity, creating his own unique fate.
Shame was the one thing that would not let Nagayoshi think about returning alive to the everyday world. It was the reason he had put on his death robes today.
"I will meet Ieyasu!" Nagayoshi vowed.
As the battle became more and more chaotic, Nagayoshi called together forty or fifty warriors and started out for the commander's standard of the golden fan.
"I'm going to meet Ieyasu. Now!" and he started to whip his horse toward the opposite hill.
"Stop! You're not going anywhere!" a Tokugawa soldier shouted.
"Get Nagayoshi!"
"He's the man with the white hood, riding at a gallop!"
The waves of armored men that tried to stop him ran up to his side and were trampled or, approaching him, were wrapped in sprays of blood.
But then, one bullet from the driving rain of musket fire, shot from a gun that was aimed at the warrior in the white brocade coat, hit him directly between the eyes.
The white hood around Nagayoshi's head suddenly turned red. Falling back on his horse, he had one last glimpse of the sky in the Fourth Month, and in that valley, the heroic young man of twenty-six years fell to the ground, still holding the reins. Hyakudan, Nagayoshi's favorite horse, reared up and whinnied in grief.
A shout like a great sob rose up from his men as they quickly rushed to his side. Carrying his corpse on their shoulders, they withdrew to the top of Gifugadake. Men from the Tokugawa forces ran after them, fighting for the symbol of their deed, shoutin "Take his head!"
The warriors who had lost their leader were close to tears. Wheeling around with frightening expressions, they turned their spears back on their pursuers. Somehow they were able to hide Nagayoshi's body. But the news that Nagayoshi had been struck down blew like a chill wind across the entire battlefield. Along with the other tides of war that had been turning against their position, yet another disaster had befallen Shonyu's forces.
It was as though boiling water had been poured onto a hill of ants: everywhere warriors were fleeing in confusion.
“They're hardly worth calling allies!" Shonyu shouted as he climbed toward higher ground and, in contrast to the peaceful surroundings, sputtered in rage at the few soldiers he encountered. "I'm right here! Don't make a disgraceful retreat! Have you forgotten what you learned every day? Go back! Go back and fight!"
But the group of black-hooded men around him did not stop their own flight in the general collapse. On the contrary, only a pitiful young page of fifteen or sixteen approached him falteringly.
Leading up a stray horse, he offered it to his lord.
In the battle at the bottom of the hill, Shonyu's horse had been shot and he had fallen to the ground. He had been surrounded by the enemy, but had desperately cut open a path and climbed up.
“I don't need a horse anymore. Set up my camp stool here."
The page set up the camp stool behind him, and Shonyu sat down.
“Forty-eight years end here," he muttered to himself. Still looking at the page, he talked on. "You're Shirai Tango's son, aren't you? I imagine your father and mother are waiting. Run as quickly as you can to Inuyama. Look, the bullets are coming! Get out of here fast! Now!"
Having chased the teary-eyed page away, he was alone and felt free from care. Calmly he took his last look at the world.
Very soon he could hear a noise like the fighting of wild animals, and the trees shook in the crags directly beneath him. It appeared that some of his black-hooded warriors still remained and were brandishing their weapons in mortal combat.
Shonyu felt numb. It was no longer a matter of victory or defeat. The sorrow of parting from the world made him reflect on the faraway past, tinged with the scent of his mother’s milk.