In the dark of the night, upon the very field that they had battled, a circle of tents had been constructed and many fires raged, lighting up the sky. They splurged the last of their rations on a grand feast. Bodies intermingled by design. Takeda men shared fires with the very soldiers they had warred with, and they raised glasses in each other's names.
The only party that did not quite fit in were the Oda. They had won no one's respect with their late arrival. They huddled around fires of their own, slowly sipping on drink, distrustful eyes flickering around. How did this happen? The men they had ridden to reinforce were toasting to the enemy. It was unprecedented. It was down to their leader to ensure they did not return back to Owari empty-handed.
Nobunaga sat amongst Gengyo's circle, with Hirata at his side, sharing their drink, struggling to find the right words to speak amongst the celebratory laugher.
