At that point, the combined forces of the Horio, Nakagawa, Takayama, and Ikeda corps reached the top of the mountain.

"We've won!"

"Tennozan is ours!"

The battle's first victory cheer was raised. Hideyoshi had been waiting for Nobutaka’s arrival at the Yodo River, and so he had not yet arrived at the front line. It was late in the afternoon, about the Hour of the Ram, by the time he had added the forces of Nobutaka and Niwa Nagahide to his own army and advanced to the central camp. The morning rain had dried up under the hot sky, both men and horses were covered with sweat and dust, and the colorful armor and coats had all turned white. The only article that penetrated the hot day with any brilliance was Hideyoshi's standard of the golden gourds.

While there were still echoes of gunfire on Tennozan, every house in the village had seemed empty. When the Akechi forces retreated and the new tide of armor flooded the streets, however, pails of water, piles of melons, and kettles of barley tea suddenly appeared on every doorstep. As Hideyoshi's forces crowded through the streets, even women appeared among the crowd of villagers, wishing them well.

"Not a single enemy soldier's left over there?"

Hideyoshi did not dismount, but simply gazed steadily at the banners of his soldiers, now visible on the nearby mountain.

"Not one," Hikoemon replied. He had coordinated all the reports on battle conditions from the various corps, judged the general situation, and now reported to Hideyoshi. “The Matsuda corps lost its commander at the very outset of the attack. Some of his men fled toward the northern foothills, while the others joined their allies in the neighborhood of Tomooka."

"I wonder why someone like Mitsuhide would abandon this high ground so quickly."

"He probably didn't think we would arrive so soon. He was mistaken in his timing."

"What about his main force?"

"They seem to have camped in the area from the Yodo River to Shimoueno, with Shoryuji at their rear and the Enmyoji River in front of them."

At that moment war cries and gunfire could be heard in the direction of the Enmyoji River. It was the Hour of the Monkey.

The Enmyoji River, east of the village of Yamazaki, was a confluent of the Yodo River. The area where the two rivers met was a swamp covered with reeds and rushes, usually filled with the songs of bush warblers, but on this day no birdsong could be heard.

During the morning the enemy armies—the left wing of Mitsuhide's army and Hideyoshi's right wing—had lined the riverbanks on either side. From time to time the reeds would rustle in the wind. While the tips of the banner poles were visible, no men or horses could be seen on either bank. On the northern bank, however, the five thousand men under Saito Toshimitsu, Abe Sadaaki, and Akechi Shigetomo were ready to advance. On the southern bank, eight thousand five hundred men under Takayama Ukon, Nakagawa Sebei, and Ikeda Shonyu were arranged in one line after another. Steaming with sweat in that hot, damp place, they waited for the time to strike.

They were waiting for Hideyoshi to arrive and give his command.

"What is the main army doing?"

They cursed Hideyoshi's army for its late arrival, but they could only grit their teeth.

Akechi Mitsuhide, who was still at his main camp in Onbozuka, had heard early on about Matsuda Tarozaemon's death on Tennozan and the complete rout of his troops. He blamed himself for misjudging the timing of his own command. He knew quite well that, strategically, there was a great difference between fighting with Tennozan under the control of his own men and facing a decisive battle after having abandoned the high ground to the enemy.

Prior to advancing toward Tennozan, however, Mitsuhide had been distracted by three things: Tsutsui Junkei's betrayal; his order to strengthen Yodo Castle—misjudging the speed of Hideyoshi's attack; and a flaw in his character—he was indecisive. Should he take the offensive or the defensive? He had not decided which until his advance on Onbozuka.

The battle began almost by accident. Both armies had spent the morning among the reeds and rushes, being eaten by gnats and mosquitoes. Throughout this time, they faced each other squarely and waited for their generals' commands. At one point, however, a beautifully saddled horse suddenly sprang from Hideyoshi's side toward the bank of the Enmyoji River, possibly to slake its thirst.

Four or five soldiers—probably retainers of the horse's owner—chased after it. Gunfire rang out abruptly from the opposite bank, followed by one volley after another.

In response, Hideyoshi's troops fired their own volley toward the northern bank order to help the soldiers, who had taken cover in the reeds. Now there was no time to wait for orders.

"Attack!"

Hideyoshi's order for a general assault actually came after the exchange of gunfire. The Akechi troops naturally reacted to the movement of the enemy, and, they, too, waded into the river.

The place where the Enmyoji River met the Yodo River was fairly wide, but not far from the convergence the Enmyoji was little more than a stream.

The current, however, was strong after several days of rain. While the Akechi gunners’ corps appeared through the reeds on the northern bank and fired into the ranks of Hideyoshi's forces standing on the southern bank, corps of armored men—the soldiers of the spear corps, the picked troops of the Akechi—kicked up sprays of water as they pushed their way across to the other side.

"Send out the spear corps!" an officer of the Takayama corps yelled, jumping up on the bank.

Because the river was so narrow, the effectiveness of the gunners was limited. As the rear ranks moved up in order to let the front ranks reload, there was the possibility that the enemy would suddenly overrun the bank and leap into the midst of the gunners.

"Gunners, open up to the side! Don't obstruct the men in the front ranks!"

The Nakagawa corps had their spear points aligned and ready. Most of them now brandished those spears and struck downward from the bank and into the water.

They were, of course, aiming at the enemy, but rather than pulling back their spears and thrusting, it was speedier to simply hold them aloft and strike in an effort to prevent the enemy from even starting up the bank. The fierce clash occurred in the middle of the river, spear to spear, spear to long sword, and even spear to spear shaft. Men thrust into others and were stabbed in turn.

The soldiers yelled and grappled with each other, some falling dead into the water and raising a spray. The muddy current whirled around. Blood and gore floated to thesurface of the water and then was washed away.

By that time the first corps under Nakagawa Sebei had relinquished the fight downstream to the soldiers under Takayama Ukon's command. Like the lines of young men shouldering a sacred palanquin during a festival, yelling in unison, they forced their way into the front line of battle.

Quickly stepping over the reeds on the eastern bank of the river, they dashed furiously into the midst of the enemy. The sun began to set. Burnt red clouds showing the approach of evening reflected their colors on the black clumps of men yelling beneath the desolate sky.

The violent battle continued for yet another hour. The tenacity of the Saito corps was surprising. Just as it seemed they might crumble, they rallied once more. Making their stand in a swamp, they fought back attack after attack. And they were not the only ones—almost all of the Akechi forces fought with uncanny resignation, and the desperate voice of the defeated army resounded with a bitterness that each man could imagine in Mitsuhide's breast.

"Retreat before we're surrounded! Fall back! Fall back!"

That pathetic chorus was raised by troops in rapid succession, and the sad news spread like the wind to the other two Akechi corps.