"Should we enter Kyoto, or seize the bottleneck of Otsu and take him by gradually shrinking the encirclement and drawing him in like a big fish in a net?" one general suggested.
"We should definitely advance to the capital, and annihilate Nobunaga at the Yodo River and in the fields of Kawachi!" another countered.
"That's no good."
If one man advocated one tactic, another immediately opposed him. For although the Asai and Asakura clans were united in their aims, when it came to a discussion within the upper command, each man felt that he had to demonstrate his own shallow knowledge and uphold his reputation. The result was that nothing was decided until midnight.
Tired of the fruitless discussion, one of the Asai generals went outside. Looking up at the sky, he commented, "The sky has turned awfully red, hasn't it?"
“Our men have set fire to the peasants' houses from Yamashina to Daigo," a sentry responded.
"What for? It's futile to burn that area, isn't it?"
“Not at all. We have to contain the enemy," the Asakura general who had given the order countered. "The Oda garrison in Kyoto under Akechi Mitsuhide is tearing aroud as if its members were eager to die. And we, too, should show our own ferocity."
Dawn had come. Otsu was the crossroads of the major routes to the capital, but there was not one traveler or packhorse to be seen. Then one mounted man rode by, followed moments later by two or three others. These were military messengers, riding from the direction of the capital, galloping to the Mii Temple as if their lives depended on it.
"Nobunaga is almost at Keage. The troops of Akechi Mitsuhide are in the vanguard, and they are smashing through with unstoppable force."
The generals could hardly believe their ears.
"Surely it's not Nobunaga in person! There's no way he could have withdrawn from the battlefield at Naniwa so quickly."
"Two or three hundred of our men in Yamashina have already been killed. The enemy is on the rampage, and, as always, Nobunaga himself is giving the orders. He's riding like a mounted demon or god, and he's coming right this way!"
Both Asai Nagamasa and Asakura Kagetake blanched. Nagamasa felt this especially keenly; Nobunaga was his wife's brother, a man who had formerly treated him kindly. The show of Nobunaga's fury made him shudder.
"Retreat! Fall back to Mount Hiei!" Nagamasa blurted out.
Asakura Kagetake picked up the urgent tone of his ally's voice. "Back to Mount Hiei!" At the same time, he screamed orders to his retainers. "Set fire to the peasants' houses along the road! No, wait until our vanguard has gone through. Then set the fires! Set the fires!"
The hot wind scorched Nobunaga's brow. Sparks had ignited his horse's mane and the tassels on his saddle. From Yamashina to Otsu, the burning beams of the peasants' houses along the road and the flames that seemed to swirl through the air could not prevent him from reaching his destination. He had become the flames of a torch himself, and his men, as they galloped on, were a horde of fire.
"This battle will be a memorial service for Lord Nobuharu."
"Did they think we wouldn't avenge the spirits of our dead comrades?"
But when they came to the Mii Temple, there was not an enemy soldier to be seen. They had climbed Mount Hiei with all the speed of flight.
Looking up at the mountain, they saw that the huge enemy army of more than twenty thousand men, in addition to the warrior-monks, stretched as far as Suzugamine, Aoyamadake, and Tsubogasadani. Their fluttering banners almost seemed to say, We haven't run away. This battle array will speak for itself from here on.
Nobunaga looked at the towering mountain and thought, It's here. It's not the mountain that is my enemy; it's the mountain's special privileges. He saw it in a new light now. From ancient times, through the reigns of successive emperors, how much had the tradition and special privileges of the mountain troubled and pained the country's rulers and the common people? Was there even the faintest glimmer of the real Buddha on the mountain?
When the Tendai sect had been introduced to Japan from China, Saint Dengyo, who had built the first temple on Mount Hiei, had chanted, "May the light of the merciful Buddha give its divine protection to the timbers that we raise up in this place." Was the lamp of the Law lit on this holy peak so that the monks could force their petitions on the Emperor in Kyoto? Was it so that they could interfere with government and grow ever more powerful with special privileges? Was it so they could ally themselves with warlords, conspire with laymen, and throw the country into confusion? Was the lamp lit so that the Law of Buddha might be accoutered with armor and helmet, and line the entire mountain with warriors' spears, guns, and war banners?
Tears of rage ran from Nobunaga's eyes. It was clear to him that this was all blasphemy. Mount Hiei had been established to protect the nation, and so had been granted special privileges. But where was the original purpose of Mount Hiei now? The main temple building, the seven shrines, the monasteries of the eastern and the western pagodas were nothing more than the barracks of armed demons in monks' robes.
All right! Nobunaga bit his lip so hard that his teeth became stained with blood. Let them call me a demon king who destroys Buddhism! The magnificent beauties of the mountain are nothing more than the false allures of an enchantress, and these armored monks are nothing more than fools. I'm going to burn them with the flames of war and let the true Buddha be called forth from these ashes!
On the same day he gave the order for the entire mountain to be surrounded. Naturally, it took several days for his army to cross the lake, pass over the mountains, and join him.
"The blood of my brother and Mori Yoshinari has not yet dried. Let their unswervingly loyal souls sleep in peace. Let their blood be like lanterns that will light up the world!"
Nobunaga knelt on the earth and folded his hands in prayer. He had made an enemy of the holy mountain and had ordered his army to surround it. Now, on a lump of earth, Nobunaga put his hands together in prayer and wept. Suddenly he saw one of his pages crying, with his hands together in the same way. It was Ranmaru, who had lost his father, Mori Yoshinari.
"Ranmaru, are you crying?"
"Please forgive me, my lord."
"I'll forgive you. But stop crying, or your father's spirit will laugh at you."
But Nobunaga's own eyes were becoming red. Ordering his camp stool moved to the top of a hill, he looked out over the disposition of the besieging troops. As far as the eye could see, the foothills of Mount Hiei were filled with the banners of his own men.
Half of the month passed by. The siege of the mountain—an unusual strategy for Nobunaga—continued. He had cut off the enemy's supply of provisions and was going try to starve them out. His plan was in fact already working. With an army of over twenty thousand men, the granaries of the mountain had quickly been emptied. They had already started to eat the bark off the trees.
Winter set in, and the cold weather on the mountaintop caused more suffering for the defenders.
“It's about the right time, don't you think?" Hideyoshi said to Nobunaga.
Nobunaga summoned a retainer, Ittetsu. Receiving Nobunaga's instructions and accompanied by four or five attendants, he climbed up Mount Hiei and met with Abbot Sonrin of the western pagoda. They met at the main temple, the warrior-monk’s headquarters.
Sonrin and Ittetsu had known each other for some time, and as a mark of that friendship, Ittetsu had come to persuade him to surrender.
“I’m not sure what your purpose was in coming here, but as a friend, I advise you not to carry this joke too far," Sonrin replied, shaking with laughter. "I agreed to meet you because I thought you had come to ask permission to surrender to us. How stupid to ask us to give up and leave! Don't you see that we are resolved to resist to the end? You must be mad to come here to talk such foolishness!"