I Enslaved The Goddess Who Summoned Me

Chapter 821: The Battle of Minami-Kyoto (3)

The shinobi moved forward together.

Hanzo stood at the center of them, blood staining her sleeve and side, both blades held low as she watched Urakami’s soldiers gathering beyond the ruined gate. The snow had become darker beneath their feet, mixed with mud, broken weapons, and the bodies of men who would never rise again.

Beside her stood Shigeru.

Yuwa stood on her other side, her weapon drawn and her eyes narrowed toward the enemy. Sana and the other shinobi who had arrived with them spread into the gaps between Minami Kyoto’s wounded defenders.

Behind Hanzo, Captain Jiro’s soldiers tightened their formation.

They were exhausted.

They were wounded.

They had watched the gates of their city collapse and seen foreign soldiers pour into the streets.

Yet they were still standing.

And now, for the first time, they were no longer standing alone.

“Shinobi,” Hanzo called.

Her voice carried through the broken gate and over the battlefield.

“Protect the people behind us.”

Shigeru raised his sword.

“Do not let them take another street!”

Jiro lifted his bloodied blade as well.

“For Minami Kyoto!”

The defenders answered.

“For Minami Kyoto!”

Then Urakami’s next wave came.

Red armor advanced through the gate in dense ranks, shields raised against arrows and blades. The samurai had regrouped after losing their commander in the market district, but they still had numbers. They still had trained warriors. They still had the confidence of an army that believed the city would eventually fall through sheer force.

Their front line charged.

Hanzo moved first.

She slipped beneath the swing of a heavy sword, stepped beside its owner, and drove one blade into the gap beneath his arm. Before he could cry out, her second blade crossed his throat.

The soldier fell.

Shigeru took the next man.

His sword met the samurai’s spear, knocked it aside, and struck upward beneath the soldier’s helmet. Blood sprayed across the snow as Shigeru turned toward another enemy without pausing.

Yuwa also moved. She did not meet stronger opponents directly. She cut the straps holding their armor together, struck behind knees, and used every opening created by the other shinobi. Sana followed along with everyone else.

One struck an enemy’s wrist.

The second found a gap in another soldier’s throat guard.

The third buried itself in the eye of a samurai rushing toward Jiro’s men.

“Left side!” Sana shouted.

Hanzo saw it at once.

A group of red armored soldiers had forced their way through a narrow opening near the collapsed gatehouse. They were trying to circle behind the main defenders, heading toward the wounded and the civilians hiding farther in the city.

Hanzo sprinted toward them.

Shigeru followed without being asked.

The first samurai swung his spear at her. Hanzo caught the shaft with one hand, pulled the weapon toward her, and stepped inside his reach. Her blade entered beneath his jaw.

The second attacked from the side.

Shigeru intercepted him.

Their swords collided with a sharp crash. The samurai was stronger, pushing Shigeru backward across the bloodied snow. But Shigeru shifted his grip, let the pressure carry his blade aside, and drove his knee into the enemy’s stomach.

The man bent forward.

Shigeru’s sword came down.

The samurai fell.

Hanzo reached the third soldier just as he lifted his weapon toward one of Jiro’s wounded men. She threw her knife. It struck between the man’s shoulder plates, and he staggered.

Hanzo closed the distance.

One clean strike ended him.

But more came.

Always more.

The defenders held the ruined gate for long minutes, fighting through smoke, snow, and blood. Each time they pushed Urakami’s soldiers back, another group entered through the broken entrance. Each time a shinobi disappeared into the shadows, a new enemy seemed to emerge from the white storm outside.

The line bent.

Jiro’s soldiers began giving ground by inches.

Hanzo felt it.

The pressure against them grew heavier. Her arms were becoming slow. The wound at her side burned every time she moved. She had lost count of how many enemies had fallen before her blades.

Shigeru stood close now, breathing heavily.

“We cannot keep this forever,” he said.

“I know.”

Yuwa cut down an enemy attempting to rush through the side street.

“Then what do we do?” she asked.

Hanzo did not answer.

Because she did not know.

They had held the city.

They had retaken streets.

They had saved civilians.

But Urakami had brought an army.

A city could only bleed for so long before it ran out of people who could stand.

Then a sudden gust of wind swept through the broken gate.

The front line of Urakami’s soldiers froze.

For one strange second, nobody moved.

Then heads flew through the air.

A line of red armored samurai collapsed at once, their bodies falling forward into the snow before their weapons struck the ground. Blood erupted from severed necks, staining the white earth in dark arcs.

Hanzo raised her gaze.

At the edge of the gate stood Genzo.

He wore dark shinobi clothes beneath a battered cloak. Snow clung to his shoulders and hair thanks to Yukihime’s continuous attacks changing weather, but his face was calm. In his hand rested a short curved blade, still wet with blood.

Around him stood another group of shinobi.

They had appeared from the walls, rooftops, alleys, and hidden passages beyond the ruined gate. Some carried swords. Others held bows already drawn. A few had ropes tied around their waists, their faces covered by masks darkened with snow.

Urakami’s soldiers stared at them.

The shinobi had come from behind.

Genzo looked at Hanzo across the battlefield.

“You are doing well,” he said.

Hanzo smiled despite the pain in her body.

“Uncle.”

Then her smile faded.

“We will not hold them for much longer.”

Genzo’s eyes moved across the broken gate, the exhausted defenders, and the dense ranks of samurai still waiting outside.

“I know,” he said.

Hanzo looked at him closely.

“But you have a plan.”

Genzo gave the smallest nod.

“I do.”

He turned toward the shinobi gathered behind him.

“Listen carefully.”

The battle continued around them, but Genzo’s voice carried with the authority of a man who had led people through years of hiding, war, and loss.

“The samurai believe they control the gate. They think this is their path into Minami Kyoto.”

He pointed toward the shattered entrance.

“Then we make it their trap.”

Hanzo understood before he finished.

Genzo continued.

“We do not push them back randomly. We force them toward the gate. We make them believe they are gaining ground. We let their officers push more soldiers through the breach.”

Jiro stepped forward, listening carefully.

“And then?” he asked.

“Then the shinobi close the streets around them,” Genzo replied. “Your men hold the center. Hanzo’s group takes the rooftops and side alleys. We cut off their retreat until they have only one path left.”

“Out of the city,” Hanzo said.

Genzo looked at her.

“Exactly.”

Jiro’s expression became determined.

“You want to drive them through the gate.”

“I want Urakami’s army to believe Minami Kyoto is swallowing them.”

The captain raised his sword.

“My men will do it.”

Genzo nodded.

“Good. Tell them to fall back toward the market road—but slowly. Make the samurai think they are breaking us.”

Jiro turned toward his soldiers.

“You heard him!” he shouted. “Pull back in formation! Do not run! Give them ground, but keep your weapons ready!”

The Minami Kyoto defenders obeyed.

At first, the movement looked like desperation.

The exhausted soldiers stepped back from the ruined gate. The shinobi vanished into side streets, over roofs, behind walls, and into the narrow paths between houses. Hanzo and her group withdrew with them, allowing Urakami’s soldiers to move farther into the outer district.

The samurai saw it.

Their confidence returned at once.

“They are retreating!”

“Push forward!”

“Take the streets!”

Urakami’s men surged through the broken gate in greater numbers.

Exactly as Genzo wanted.

The red armored soldiers poured into the city, stepping over their dead and shouting victory as they pressed after the defenders. They believed Minami Kyoto’s line had finally collapsed.

Outside the walls, Urakami watched from his horse.

His eyes narrowed.

“Good,” he said.

One of his officers bowed.

“My lord, their resistance is breaking.”

“Then do not give them time to recover.”

Urakami raised his sword.

“Advance! Kill every shinobi you find! Seize the inner district before nightfall!”

The samurai answered with a roar.

They pushed harder.

Then the trap closed.

A sharp whistle echoed from above.

Ropes fell from the rooftops.

Shinobi dropped behind Urakami’s soldiers, cutting down the men nearest the rear before they could turn around. Archers appeared in high windows and loosed arrows into the packed formations. Smoke bombs burst across the street, filling the air with thick gray clouds that blinded the samurai and made them cough.

At the same time, Jiro’s soldiers stopped retreating.

They turned.

“Now!” Jiro roared.

The defenders charged.

Spears struck through smoke.

Shields slammed into red armor.

The samurai at the front, who believed they were chasing a broken force, suddenly found Minami Kyoto’s soldiers attacking with everything they had left.

Hanzo appeared at the side of the street with a group of Shinobis but also Shigeru’s group.

“Do not let them regroup!” she shouted.

Shigeru’s group and the shinobis rushed forward.

They struck the samurai’s exposed flanks, cutting down officers and opening gaps in the formations. The city itself became their weapon. Loose roof tiles fell onto soldiers below. Traps hidden in alleys snapped shut around soldiers trying to escape the smoke. Oil poured from upper windows, forcing the invaders away from the narrow streets they thought would protect them.

The samurai began falling back.

Then they discovered their retreat was blocked as well.

Genzo’s shinobi had positioned themselves around the gate and outer roads, appearing wherever the soldiers tried to turn. The red armored men became trapped between Minami Kyoto’s defenders and the dark figures moving through their rear lines.

Urakami watched the formation collapse.

His expression turned furious.

“What are they doing?” he shouted.

An officer hurried toward him.

“My lord, the shinobi have surrounded the men inside the city!”

“Then break the circle!”

“We are trying!”

“Trying?” Urakami snapped. “Kill them! Advance! Do not let those insects force you back!”

He raised his sword and pointed toward the ruined gate.

“Send in the next ranks! Crush them beneath your numbers!”

Then a terrible explosion sounded behind him.

BADOOOMM!!

Snow burst into the air.

Men shouted.

Horses screamed.

Urakami’s horse reared, nearly throwing him from the saddle. He pulled the reins hard and turned toward the sound.

A large section of his rear army had vanished beneath a wall of ice.

Broken bodies lay scattered across the snow. Soldiers stumbled away from the destruction, their armor frozen solid in places. Some had been trapped beneath jagged pillars of ice. Others screamed as frost crawled across their limbs.

At the center of the devastation stood Yukihime.

Her spear gleamed pale blue in the darkness.

She looked at Urakami without expression.

The samurai leader stared at her.

“What are you doing here?” he demanded.

Yukihime did not answer.

Urakami looked wildly toward one of his commanders.

“What happened to the force I sent to contain her?”

The man did not answer at first.

His lips trembled.

Urakami’s eyes became cold.

“Speak.”

The commander swallowed.

“My lord…”

“What happened?”

“The snow woman killed them.”