Gengyo's men snatched up horses of their own and rode behind him. With the death of their Lord and of several of their generals, the Oda army had plunged into aimless chaos. Many of the men simply fled, for they had nothing to fight for. They had lost, well and truly.
"Is it bearable?" Gengyo asked, turning his head in his saddle. Yamagata had taken an arrow through his side and he winced with each bound of his horse. He held the reins in one hand, tending to the wound with the other, his face clenched in pain like a fist.
"A-aye," Yamagata barely managed to say. Morohira had needed to lift him in the saddle. They were not the only one's sporting injury. Three of their elite guardsmen had perished and all of them were nursing some injury or other.
