The enemy is quiet too, Mitsuhide thought as he stood at Onbozuka, staring into the dark in the direction of Yamazaki. He felt deep emotion and tension at the thought that Hideyoshi's army was facing him from a distance of barely half a league. Making Onbozuka the focal point of his entire force, and using the Shoryuji Castle as his supply base, he deployed his troops in a line from the Yodo River in the southwest to the Enmyoji River, as though opening up a fan. By the time each corps of the advance guard had gotten into position, it was almost dawn and the outline of the long, flowing Yodo River was beginning to become visible.

Suddenly the echo of violent gunfire could be heard in the direction of Tennozan. The sun had not yet risen, and the clouds were dark with thick mist. It was the thirteenth day of the Sixth Month, and so early that not even the whinnying of a single horse could be heard on the road to Yamazaki.

Looking out from Mitsuhide's main camp at Onbozuka, the soldiers could see Tennozan about half a league to the southwest. Hugging its left side was the road to Yamazaki and a large river—the Yodo.

Tennozan was steep, about nine hundred feet at its highest point. On the day before, when Hideyoshi's main army had advanced as far as Tonda, his officers had all looked straight ahead and stared at the mountain. Several of them had questioned the local guide. "What mountain is that?"

"Is that Yamazaki in the eastern foothills?"

"The enemy is at Shoryuji. Where is that in relation to Tennozan?"

Every corps had to be accompanied by someone who was familiar with the lay of the land. Everyone who understood strategy knew that the side that controlled the high ground would win the day.

And every general was also aware that the first man who planted his banner onTennozan would win more glory than the one who took the first head on the plain. Each general had sworn that he would be that man. On the eve of the thirteenth, several of Hideyoshi's generals had asked him to adopt their plan of attack, and hoped they would be given the order to storm the mountain.

"Tomorrow will be the decisive battle," Hideyoshi said. "Yodo, Yamazaki, and Tennozan will be the main battlefields. Prove yourselves worthy of being called men. Don’t compete with one another, or think only of your own glory. Remember that Lord Nobunaga and the god of war will be looking down on you from heaven."

But as soon as they received Hideyoshi's permission, the gunners raced toward Tennozan in high spirits and in a disorganized melee in the dead of night. This strategic place that had attracted the eyes of all of Hideyoshi's generals had not been overlooked by Mitsuhide. He had decided to march at full speed, cross the Katsura River, and come out quickly at Onbozuka to take Tennozan.

Mitsuhide knew the topography of the area as well as did the generals of the enemy vanguard, Nakagawa Sebei and Takayama Ukon. And, although they were looking at the mountains and rivers of the same area, Mitsuhide's mind naturally went beyond the thoughts of the other men.

After Mitsuhide had crossed the Katsura River and marched through Kuga Nawate, he detached one division from his army and sent them on another route, saying, "Climb up the northern side of Tennozan and take the mountaintop. If the enemy attacks, make a  stand and don't give up that strategic point."

It must be said that he was quick. Mitsuhide's commands and his actions were always timely; he never missed an opportunity to strike. Nevertheless, by this time Hideyoshi's forces, which had already reached Hirose on the southern slope, were also on the mountain.

It had been pitch black, however, and many of the soldiers were not at all familiar with the terrain.

"Here's a path going up."

"No, you can't go through that way."

"Yes, I think we can."

"This is the wrong way. There's a crag right above us."

Winding their way around the foot of the mountain, they all made haste to find a path to the top.

The path was steep, and it was still dark. Because they knew they were among allies, the men filed up without knowing whose unit or corps they were with. They simply hurried, huffing and puffing, to the summit. Then, just as they thought they were nearing the top, they were struck by a volley of gunfire.

The attack had come from the Akechi gunners under Matsuda Tarozaemon. It was clear afterward that the seven hundred men in the Matsuda corps had been divided into two units. The soldiers of Horio Mosuke, Nakagawa Sebei, Takayama Ukon, and Ikeda Shonyu had all scrambled to be first to climb up Tennozan, but it was only Hori Kyutaro who commanded his troops to take the crossroad up to the north side of the foothills. Quickly skirting the base of the mountain, they attempted a completely different action: to cut off the retreat of the enemy.

As expected, that lateral attack intercepted the Matsuda corps and placed its general, Matsuda Tarozaemon, right before their eyes. The collision was far more violent than the clash at the top of the mountain. Fighting was hand to hand amidst the pines and boulders strewn along the mountain slope. Firearms were too cumbersome, so the battle was fought mainly with spears, long swords, and halberds.

Some fell from the cliffs grappling with the enemy. Some who held down enemy soldiers were stabbed from behind. There were corps of archers as well and the singing of arrows and reports of the guns were incessant. But far louder were the war cries of the five or six hundred men. Those cries did not seem to be coming from the throats of individual men but from their entire beings, even from their hair and pores.

The men advanced and were pushed back, and at last the sun began to rise. A blue sky and white clouds were visible for the first time in a long while. With the rare sunshine, the cicadas seemed to have been struck dumb. In their place were the war cries of the soldiers shaking the mountain. Very quickly, bloodied corpses lay strewn over the slopes, piled atop one another. One body might be lying pathetically alone in one spot, while two or three might have fallen on top of each other in another place. The warriors were spurred by the sight of the corpses, and the soldiers who stepped over the dead

bodies of their comrades entered a space beyond life and death. This was true for the soldiers of the Hori corps as well as for the men of the Akechi.

The situation at the top of the mountain was unclear, but here too a victory might be followed quickly by a defeat. During the fighting, the cries that issued from the Matsuda corps suddenly changed and became like the sounds a crying child makes between sobs. Optimism had changed to despair.

"What's the matter?"

"Why are we falling back? Don't retreat!"

Questioning their comrades' confusion, some of the men of the Matsuda corps yelled out in anger. But those men, too, quickly ran toward the foot of the mountain as though carried by an avalanche. Their commanding general, Matsuda Tarozaemon, had been struck by a bullet and carried away on the shoulders of his attendants in full view of his troops.

"Attack! Cut them down!"

The greater part of the Hori corps had already started out in pursuit, but Kyuta yelled at the top of his voice, trying to stop his men.

"Don't pursue them!"

In the impetus of the moment, however, the command for restraint had little effect. As might have been expected, the vanguard of the Matsuda corps now came cascading down the mountain like a muddy stream. Reinforcements had not come, and their general had been shot. They had no choice but to flee.

The Hori corps had been no match for the Akechi in terms of numbers. Now, without a real battle and with nothing to check them, they were thrust down the mountain and crushed underfoot by a corps of the enemy that came running down the steep slope from above. The section of the Hori corps that had pursued the enemy down the mountain first was now caught in a pincer movement just as Kyutaro had feared, and an appalling battle ensued.