Chapter 137 - 88: Such a turbulent time, it’s starting again!

The rain can’t possibly keep falling forever, otherwise the Japanese would have died out ages ago. After seeing the sun peek out for three days straight, Nozawa knew the Meiyu season was finally wrapping up. This was almost a whole week shorter than he expected—apparently, after five hundred years, the climate has changed a lot, even the Meiyu season has shortened by nearly 15%. And once Mr. Sun started clocking in for work as usual, daytime temperatures began to soar. The rainwater accumulated during the Meiyu season started evaporating rapidly, and Central Japan officially entered the muggy, stifling peak of summer. This was a bit of a nightmare. Nozawa was from the north, so he was naturally heat-intolerant, and humid heat was even more unbearable. He looked up at the blazingly hot sun, mentally tallied the homework Ah Qing gave him, and didn’t even slack off or hide out—instead, he stayed put and kept swinging his eight-sided iron rod—moves designed by Ah Qing, who only emphasized using his full height and strength. The training was extremely simple: just sweep, diagonal swing, and blunt smash, with some footwork and power coordination. That’s about it. This was nothing like the martial arts he imagined—no beauty in it at all. But Ah Qing insisted he train like this, so all he could do was listen to the expert. At least Ah Man, that chatterbox, offered a few more explanations, saying that since he was tall, long-limbed, and strong, if he mastered these three moves and armored up like an iron can, he’d be more than enough to charge into battle, and might even qualify as an Ashigaru Leader. Anyway, as long as he kept swinging hard, before running out of strength, regular grunts—or even most junior samurai—couldn’t get close to him. Even if he ran into a real badass, unless they wanted to die with him, they’d have to steer clear, and in that bit of extra time, Ah Qing could easily stab the enemy twice over. With them so confident, Nozawa decided to trust them for now. He just treated it as working out, finished his homework properly, wiped the sweat off his head and hurried into his "air-conditioned room" to cool off—homemade air con. He hired a well-maker, had the guy lead his household lang faction to dig two deep wells—dozens of meters deep—in the backyard. Next, he designed a livestock-powered windlass to lift the icy cold well water (deep well water stays at a constant 4–10°C year-round) up into a tank, then fed it through a series of ceramic pipes that wound through the roof, walls, and floor to cool the rooms. When the cool well water finished its cooling job, it was never wasted—it worked as a kind of "tap water" for everyone in the house to wash up, bathe, and for the livestock to drink, and any extra was piped back underground. All in all, this "homemade air conditioner" was pretty crude, but the cost was rock-bottom. Beyond the up-front investment, you just needed two oxen to walk in circles to power it—and at most a cowherd to supervise. Long-term, there were basically no major expenses. Of course, this was a real basic version—for the future, he could retrofit every room, swap ceramics for copper pipes, mud plaster for threading, upgrade a ton of stuff. But after discovering that five thousand kan in annual income was nothing, he’d put the full renovation plan on hold for now, and just set up two rooms. At least that would get him through the summer. One of these air con rooms was for Meng Ziqi—so he wouldn’t just lie around and break out in prickly heat. The other was for Nozawa himself. But Ah Man—the little rascal who knew no respect for rank or age, and never missed a bargain—had no shame: when she found out Nozawa’s room stayed especially cool (thirty-five or thirty-six degrees outside, twenty-seven or twenty-eight inside—it felt totally different), she instantly decided to move in and refused to leave. With her setting this awful example, others started doing the same—dropping by his room to hang out, and within days, Nozawa’s private quarters had become the Nozawa family’s daily lounge spot. This time was no different. Nozawa, sweaty as ever, walked into his air-conditioned room and found Ningen, Yayoi, and Ah Qing all chilling there with the "A/C" on—Ah Qing and Yayoi were doing inventory and accounts, while Ningen was working on her assignments nearby. Ningen saw him come in, her eyes lit up, she tossed her homework aside and beat Yayoi to the punch—she raced over to pull on a rope, and at the other end, a bamboo tube descended, instantly pouring out a stream of icy well water that splashed into a long stone trough—Nozawa still hadn’t figured out how to craft a faucet by hand, kind of dumb, but this would have to do for now. As soon as Ningen let go, the bamboo tube popped upright and stopped the flow. She picked up a cotton towel, soaked it in the refreshing well water, wrung it dry, and presented it to Nozawa with great respect—practically filial—"Master, you’ve worked hard, please use this!" In this time together, she’d realized it: Nozawa really didn’t seem to have "that kind of intent" towards her. She couldn’t say if she was happy or disappointed about it. He was a mystery—at first, she’d half-suspected he was up to something sneaky, expecting some kind of conniving plot. But pretty quickly, she realized Nozawa genuinely saw her as a student—he taught her earnestly, answered every question seriously, which got her interested. She was smart and precocious, not born knowing everything. Reading could broaden her horizons, sharpen her mind, and all sorts of other benefits—she knew that. It was just that good books were rare, and wise mentors even rarer. Now she saw Nozawa as her wise mentor. Whether it was astronomy, geography, literature, arts, crafts, or practical math and management—anything she asked, he made it clear and logical. Maybe not a literal genius, but at least he was truly knowledgeable. Most important of all, Nozawa was willing to teach her; he didn’t look down on her just for being a girl. That made her especially happy—in these times, learning anything is tough, and for a girl? No teacher would bother spending time or energy on a girl—it just wasn’t worth it. So, she figured this was her chance. If she could master these lessons, reviving the family’s fortunes in the future wouldn’t be a problem. After a dozen or so classes, she was honestly happy to be his apprentice, and felt like even if she had to sacrifice down the line, it’d be worth it. Her mindset shifted, her actions followed—she looked forward to lessons, became more obedient, and waited on Nozawa like a real student, even scrambling to do little chores like wringing towels, and happily so. Nozawa accepted the towel and wiped his face, just as pleased—after all, it’s not every day you get a towel wrung by the "female Taikō"—must be worth more than regular ones. After wiping his face, he casually praised Ningen, then sat cross-legged in front of his desk, thinking up new low-tech ways to get high-purity reducing agent solutions—without spending a fortune. He’d been holed up in his lab every day, haphazardly experimenting like a blind cat catching a dead mouse, and managed to figure out a few dye formulas. But the colors wouldn’t stick consistently—the hues kept coming out grimy. It was probably still an issue with compound purity—the impurities messed with the different chemical reactions at every stage, so he couldn’t apply it on a large scale. He’d probably have to hide away a while longer—keep hunting for ways to clean the impurities out of his reducing agent. Once that was done, he could try dyeing a big batch of cloth. If he pulled it off, the dye workshop would rake in way more than the soy sauce mill. After all, the textile market was way bigger than the condiment game. If his colors were good enough, he might even break into the export trade and make some money off the Portuguese. Once he’d built up enough capital, maybe he could develop an iron mine, recruit or train some blacksmiths, and pivot to being an arms dealer. He was lost in these rosy daydreams—nearly imagining himself building ships and training a deep-sea navy—when Ah Man burst in, sweating buckets, and started grousing with a faceful of discontent: "This damn weather, feels like a steamer basket out there! I’m about to get steamed alive!" After whining, she ordered Yayoi to bring her some sour plum soup—iced with well water, no less—then rushed to the well trough and started splashing her face like mad. (The sour plum soup had nothing to do with Nozawa—it was a local staple, and Yayoi had stockpiled a ton of plums during the Meiyu season to make plum paste for winter, with some set aside for sour plum drinks.) Once Ah Man had finished her fuss and finally cooled down, she plopped down beside Nozawa to report on what was going on outside, leading with the bad news: "Looks like there’s gonna be war—again!" Nozawa wasn’t surprised. By now, he was used to this era’s rhythm: whenever conditions were right, the samurai were either out grabbing land or already fighting. With Meiyu season over, the weather hot, the mud dried out, and the late rice all planted, the samurai were bound to get restless and kick off trouble. He put down his brush, taking a second to wistfully remember the month or so of recent peace, and sighed, "Who is it this time?" "It’s the Imagawa family." Ah Man had gotten first-hand news from Nagano Castle. "Word is, the Imagawa are gathering food and troops along the Bai Chuan Pass area, especially active over near Shimane—looks like they’re planning to attack Chongyuan City." "That’s not bad! We’re hearing about Imagawa’s moves right at the start for once!" Nozawa said as he hunted for a map—and felt relieved. Finally, they could prepare ahead of the enemy’s attack. Oda Nobunaga had matured—no more waiting until the enemy stuck first, or even for a while, before arguing with his household retainers over a response, leaving the front line to get pummeled for days. "It must be because of Shinko-maru and his council—seems like they’re actually competent," Ah Man guessed, a bit wary of anyone involved with the council. She was afraid of getting crosswise with Shinko-maru and ending up killed over nothing, so all she could do was speculate. "They’re probably already infiltrating Sankei Province. At least, monitoring Bai Chuan Pass seems well in hand." Nozawa thought so too. The Meiyu season actually made it easier for Oda Nobunaga’s council to get busy. Even if the Imagawa weren’t planning to hit Oda Nobunaga, he’d probably want to get revenge on Imagawa anyway. With that in mind, he spread out the map, found Chongyuan City—which sat at the base of Chita Peninsula. With Oda Danjo Chonosuke’s family having lost Nagami Castle after Yamaguchi Keiji’s rebellion, if they lost Chongyuan City too, they’d never be able to suppress the local Chita Peninsula warlords again, and Chita County would be in real trouble. Ah Man pointed at the map and added, "Chongyuan City was built by the Yamagata Family. The current patriarch, Yamagata Yasuhiko (Hayato), is about as strong as the Hosokawa Family—maybe a dozen samurai, a hundred or so lang faction fighters, and five or six hundred regular ashigaru. They definitely can’t hold off the Imagawa alone." "So what’s Lord of Upper General planning to do?" Nozawa adjusted his words for Ningen’s sake, careful not to mention Nobunaga’s name directly. "No word yet, but I’m guessing they’ll have to fight back. Dan Zhengzhong’s house can’t lose Chongyuan City too, that would be too much of a loss." Nozawa nodded, sighed softly, and instructed, "Then let’s start getting ready. Looks like we won’t get out of this—we’ll almost certainly have to go, too." Such troubled times... here we go again. This war would probably drag out till the autumn harvest. He just hoped Oda Nobunaga could step up this time, hit the Imagawa hard, and hold onto Chita County. It should be fine, right? He’s fought two big battles by now—he should finally be a seasoned general.