As for a scene like this, Kōbe Hikaru and Kikyō had, from the very beginning, already braced themselves for it.
Because of the existence of the Shikon Jewel — that thing always stirred up strife from every direction, and no generation of bearers could hold it for very long. Even the previous generation's demon-slayer Village Elder, leaning on the combined strength of the entire demon-slaying village's demon-slayers, plus the covert backing of various great magi such as the Tahōtō faction, in the end had only managed to hold out for less than a decade before he could no longer bear it — needing to pass it on to a stronger guardian.
All the more so now.
In the midst of all this, Kōbe Hikaru suddenly recalled some of the rumors he had heard on the road earlier.
He thought of how the Imagawa clan and the Hōjō clan had gone to war.
Both houses were major powers in Kantō. The Imagawa clan governed the three provinces of Suruga, Tōtōmi, and Mikawa, and although many areas were not actually under firm control, they nonetheless commanded a powerful force.
The Hōjō clan, while really the outsider Later Hōjō rather than the truly orthodox Hōjō, likewise held both Sagami Province and Musashi Province, sharing borders with the Imagawa clan.
The two houses, in their struggle to seize more territory, frequently rubbed against each other.
Recently he had heard that another full-scale war was about to break out.
Theoretically speaking, although Musashi also belonged to the Hōjō, it didn't actually border the Imagawa's domain.
But after walking through this world for several months, Kōbe Hikaru had long since discovered that this world's geography differed from that of the world he had crossed over from — it was larger, and certain places were not quite the same. Musashi Province and Suruga, under Imagawa rule, did in fact share a contiguous region — a narrow strip of mountainous country, not large, but genuinely there.
For the chaos of war to spread here was perfectly natural.
And, as it happened, at just this moment the Band of Seven had appeared in this very area, going so far as to deliberately stir up slaughter and resentment… It was hard to say that the war between the two houses did not, behind the Band of Seven, bear the brushwork of that so-called yōkai from Kyoto.
And then a name suddenly came to him.
The name of a great yōkai who existed in the same work as Nurarihyon — Nura Nurarihyon.
A great yōkai who lurked in Kyoto, nurturing a king of yōkai.
Her name was Hagoromo-Gitsune.
A great yōkai intimately bound up with Tamamo-no-Mae, the nine-tailed fox demon — one of the Three Great Yōkai of the Land of the Rising Sun!
If this incident really was connected to Hagoromo-Gitsune…
"This is trouble."
Kōbe Hikaru murmured in a low voice.
"What?"
Kikyō turned her head to look at him.
"It's nothing."
Kōbe Hikaru shook his head. "I was just thinking — the yōkai over in Kyoto may be more troublesome than we ever imagined."
Kikyō did not press further.
She only quickened her pace.
Not only Kōbe Hikaru, but Kikyō also understood — if that yōkai out of Kyoto really had its eye on the Shikon Jewel, Kaede Village would be the next target.
That was the village Kikyō guarded.
It was also her home.
"Can we go any faster?"
Kikyō suddenly asked.
Her tone was still calm, but Kōbe Hikaru caught the urgency in it.
"We can."
He extended a hand. "Hold on."
Kikyō did not hesitate; she took that hand.
The next instant —
Kōbe Hikaru's leg muscles swelled. [Spear-Waist Mutation] and [Razor-Body Mutation] activated at the same time, strength running through his entire frame.
Then —
[Spectral Step] was deployed in continuous succession beneath his feet.
The speed of the two of them suddenly surged, like two streaks of wind sweeping through mountains and forests.
Trees flew past in reverse; mountain stones became fading afterimages.
Kikyō was pulled along, her white robes and red hakama snapping in the wind, her black hair drawn out behind her in a single straight line.
She could feel the temperature of that hand.
Very cool.
Yet it reassured her.
…
At that same moment, on the other end of the land.
Still Kyoto.
And still an underground palace situated in the Capital Region.
A place where sunlight never reached year-round, where stone pillars stood in rows and the walls were inlaid with weathered murals.
A woman sat upon a high dais.
She wore the jūnihitoe — the layered formal garment of noble women of the Heian period, robe upon robe, opulent enough to dazzle the eye.
But what drew the eye most of all were the nine tails arrayed behind her.
Tails of jet black, the kind that seemed able to swallow light itself.
Hagoromo-Gitsune.
Her face was hidden in shadow, her expression beyond reading.
But those eyes — gold, with slit pupils — glimmered in the gloom.
"Kibōmaru."
She spoke, her voice soft, yet carrying clearly through the entire great hall.
"Here."
A figure stepped forth from the shadows.
It was a man.
No.
It was an oni.
A wicked oni in the shape of an old man, beard and hair gone hoary, clad in a kimono, an exceptionally long tachi hanging at his waist.
But the chill, gloomy aura clinging to him made plain that he was anything but human.
His name was Kibōmaru.
In the ancient ghost-tale lore of this land, he was the oni of a child abandoned deep in the mountains and raised by oni.
In essence, he was the manifestation of the resentment of countless abandoned infants throughout this land.
Five hundred years ago, he had served under the great oni-king Shuten-dōji, who held court at Mount Ōe in Kyoto. After Shuten-dōji was subdued, Kibōmaru had vanished without a trace.
No one had any idea that he was still active in Kyoto.
And he was, in the present day, one of the most formidable combatants among the yōkai active in Kyoto.
"How are things proceeding with the vanguard?"
Hagoromo-Gitsune asked.
"Deployment is complete."
Kibōmaru's voice came as if forced up from deep in his throat — aged and rasping.
"This old one has hired a band of mercenaries notorious among humans for their savagery, and slipped them into the battlefield between the Imagawa and the Hōjō."
"Those fellows will strike again and again at the border between the two domains, brewing slaughter and chaos."
"The fiercer the fighting, the thicker the resentment."
"The thicker the resentment grows, the more yōkai it will draw in — and those yōkai shall serve as this old one's vanguard force when I head there."
Hagoromo-Gitsune nodded, the eyes hidden beneath her veil-like shadow well satisfied.
"You have thought it through well, Kibōmaru. Since they are human, moving in the daylight will arouse no suspicion."
"But remember — remember: what we want is resentment, and to obtain the Shikon Jewel, in order, by such means, to hasten the gestation and birth of my child — not the question of who wins or loses among humans."
"The bloodier the two sides fight, the better."
"Once the resentment is plentiful enough — enough to carry you — that will be the moment for you to take the stage."
Kibōmaru smiled. "Understood."
"I have also summoned the many yōkai gathered in that area by the pull of grudge, to probe her."
To probe the strength of that shrine maiden who held the Shikon Jewel.
And, to wear her down.
Hagoromo-Gitsune inclined her head, well pleased.
"Go and see to it."
"Remember —"
Her voice turned colder. "Do not delay the true business."
"The gathering of resentment takes highest priority."
"And then, the Shikon Jewel."
Kibōmaru bowed.
"This servant understands."
He withdrew from the great hall, and amid the interplay of light and shadow, that aged face revealed a vicious pattern of lines.
…
At that same moment.
Suruga Province, the main camp of the Imagawa clan.
This was the central seat of the Imagawa's domain — a castle built against a mountain.
Within the castle, in the honmaru — that is to say, at the top of the tenshukaku, the donjon of the main fortress — in the highest, furthest goten chamber.
A young woman — indeed, a figure who might even be called a girl — knelt upon the tatami.
She wore a sumptuous jūnihitoe kimono, golden-wrought ornaments in her hair, her dark-brown long tresses falling like a waterfall in soft, smooth lines, framing a delicate, finely formed face, framing too a small and slender frame.
Imagawa Yoshimoto.
The head of the Imagawa clan.
Though a woman by birth, she was nonetheless a daimyō who commanded an entire territory.
In this Warring States age of chaos, female heads of house were not at all uncommon.
Imagawa Yoshimoto was among the very finest of them.
At this moment, her brows were drawn tightly together.
"What are the movements on the Hōjō side?"
She asked.
"Reporting to my lord."
A samurai dropped to one knee. "The Hōjō army is massing its forces — by the look of it, preparing a large-scale offensive."
"Do our troops suffice?"
"For a direct, head-on engagement…"
The samurai hesitated a moment. "By rights, they should."
"But —"
"But what?"
Imagawa Yoshimoto frowned.
"Several days ago, an urgent report came from the front."
The samurai swallowed. "Both our forces and the Hōjō army came under attack."
"An attack?"
"Yes."
The samurai nodded. "A mercenary outfit calling itself the 'Band of Seven' has been carrying out wholesale slaughter near the battlefield."
"They do not distinguish friend from foe — they kill anyone they see."
"Our forces have lost over three hundred men. The Hōjō side, reportedly, about the same."
Imagawa Yoshimoto's face darkened.
"The Band of Seven?"
She had heard of that name.
The most savage mercenary outfit in the Kantō region — give them coin and there was nothing they would not do.
But the problem was —
"Who hired them?"
"Unclear."
The samurai shook his head. "We've investigated. The Hōjō clan has been chasing it down on their end as well — but no one has any leads."
"It's as though this lot simply sprang up out of nowhere, deliberately stirring up chaos in the very region where the two armies are fighting."
Imagawa Yoshimoto's fingers tapped lightly against the armrest.
Something was wrong here.
The Band of Seven were mercenaries. The patron who had hired them must have had some aim.
But if they were killing without distinction between friend and foe, then what was their aim?
"Pass down the order."
She spoke. "Muster more troops. Prepare to encircle and wipe out this Band of Seven."
"There aren't many of them. Once we locate them, our numerical superiority will crush them flat."
"Yes!"
Just as the samurai was about to leave —
Another messenger came rushing in.
"Report —!"
"Urgent message from the front!"
Imagawa Yoshimoto lifted her head.
"Speak."
"The Band of Seven… the Band of Seven has been driven off!"
The messenger was gasping for breath. "According to the surviving witnesses at the scene, they ran into an extremely powerful yōkai — and also a shrine maiden."
"The other party slew four members of the Band of Seven. The remainder fled."
Imagawa Yoshimoto froze.
The Band of Seven — defeated, just like that?
She rose, walked to the window.
Outside lay the encampment — soldiers drilling in the yard.
Though it was good news in itself — with the Band of Seven defeated, her army had one less threat to deal with.
But —
A being capable of defeating the Band of Seven was, in and of itself, another threat.
And a yōkai, no less.
"Pass down the order."
Imagawa Yoshimoto turned around. "Have the intelligence corps immediately investigate the background of this yōkai and this shrine maiden."
"Where he is now, where he has gone, what his purpose is."
"Everything is to be made clear."
The samurai bowed.
"Yes!"
Imagawa Yoshimoto sat back down in her place.
She looked at the markings on the map, brows knit tight.
The age of Warring States was already chaotic enough as it was.
And now to add yōkai into the mix…
"I do hope no more trouble breaks loose."
She murmured in a low voice.
She also looked toward the distance outside the hall — where, at the edge of the sky, lightning seemed to weave through itself, and yōkai aura was spreading!
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