The forest of bones stood stark and silent. The lightning had long since died out upon the charred earth, leaving behind only that tooth-chilling stench of burning in the air.
Kōbe Hikaru stood where he was, his crimson-red oni mask looking especially fierce in the dusk.
From on high he gazed down at the woman before him—clad in her jūnihitoe, her face full of expectation—this lord of Suruga Province.
Imagawa Yoshimoto's words just now had been, one could say, brimming with sincerity.
The offerings of the entire realm.
Had he been an ordinary rōnin samurai, or some ignorant wild yōkai, he would likely have already bowed his head to the ground by now, all but eager to tear out his own heart to repay her for recognizing his worth.
But Kōbe Hikaru did not.
He understood full well that this so-called half of the realm was, for now, nothing but a pie painted on paper.
Though Imagawa Yoshimoto held the three most prosperous provinces of the Tōkaidō—and even if she could not fully control them all—she still commanded an absolute advantage in sheer troop numbers. Even the maiden warriors of the Takeda and Uesugi, who wielded the power of divine artifacts, could not overwhelm her on an open battlefield.
However, the other side could go for the head.
They could strike deep alone—could even capture the sovereign!
And Imagawa Yoshimoto, who had no divine artifact, was utterly powerless against it.
One could say Imagawa Yoshimoto's situation was even worse than he had imagined.
She lacked that single '1'—and without it, however many zeroes came after were all illusory.
And so, here and now.
Imagawa Yoshimoto opened her mouth, still using that same pitch from a moment ago.
But—
"That talk of the realm you mentioned just now—it's too far off."
Kōbe Hikaru's voice held not the slightest ripple. "I don't care about those vague, intangible things, and I don't need you to paint me any pies."
Imagawa Yoshimoto's smile stiffened slightly.
"I won't hide my head or conceal my tail either, so I'll say it plainly—I can agree to become the protector of your Suruga Imagawa. But there are two conditions."
Kōbe Hikaru held up two fingers.
At his words.
Imagawa Yoshimoto swiftly readjusted her expression.
She tilted her head slightly, and that folding fan painted with pines and cranes slid once more from her sleeve, pressing lightly against her chin. Her gaze flowed and shimmered, her smile radiant—a smile put on for show:
"Please speak, Lord Hikaru—so long as it's within my power, even if it's something you desire..."
"First."
Kōbe Hikaru cut off her meaningless cadence directly, crisp and clean:
"The Imagawa clan's army—whether it's the two thousand you have now, or the troops in your territory later on—must obey my command unconditionally whenever they encounter any battle involving demons or 'Demon Gods.'"
He had not forgotten the threat posed by Uesugi Kenshin's yōkai-slaying legion, which came from the land of Echigo to the north of Musashi Province.
Those fellows would surely come back for another round.
And when they did, he would need a force like this one—one that could support him in coordination.
"You want military authority?"
Imagawa Yoshimoto's eyes narrowed.
The coquettishness of a moment ago receded like the tide, replaced by the shrewdness and vigilance that belonged to a daimyō who ruled over several provinces.
Making offerings to a Demon God was one thing. Handing the hilt of your own blade to the other party was another matter entirely.
The former cost money. The latter—that could cost you your life.
"Not entirely."
Kōbe Hikaru did not yield. "I only concern myself with the war against the non-human. As for how you fight those human daimyō, I won't interfere—unless the other side also has non-human power intervening, such as those so-called divine artifacts and maiden warriors who hold special powers."
"On this point, I can give my guarantee."
Imagawa Yoshimoto pressed her lips together, seeming to weigh the gains and losses.
"Second."
Kōbe Hikaru gave her no time to think, pointing to the cluster of little yōkai cowering behind him in the blood mist, trembling.
"Them."
"I want you to take them back to Suruga and settle them throughout your domain."
"And not just tossing them onto some random mountaintop, either."
"I want you, in an official capacity, to build shrines for them, to fabricate legends, so that your people know of their existence, revere them, make offerings to them—whether as guardian deities or as mischief-working spirits."
"I want them to become the legitimate, rightful hundred demons of the land of Suruga."
The moment those words came out, Imagawa Yoshimoto froze.
Even the tanuki spirit behind Kōbe Hikaru was dumbstruck. Clutching that tattered banner, its mouth gaped wide enough to fit a whole egg.
You have to understand—they were nothing but a pack of the lowest-grade rubbish yōkai!
Build shrines for them? Receive people's offerings?
Such treatment—they wouldn't have dared to dream of it before!
"This..."
Imagawa Yoshimoto's brow twisted into a knot, and a look of difficulty appeared on that exquisite face.
"The matter of military authority is still negotiable, but this bunch... these filthy things?"
She cast a look of disgust at the one-eyed little monk holding up its broken umbrella and the drooling kappa.
"Lord Hikaru, are you serious? If such unpresentable things were to receive an official investiture from the Imagawa clan, word would get out and the other daimyō would laugh their teeth out. If you insist on settling them, I can allot them a few barren mountains..."
"Then there's nothing to discuss."
Kōbe Hikaru withdrew his fingers.
Without any hesitation, and without the slightest room to haggle.
He turned. That gray robe of his surged up in the wind, like two wings spreading wide and fierce, as though he meant to simply depart at once.
"Let's go."
He said that single word to the little yōkai behind him.
The blood mist surged outward once more, centered upon him, in an instant swallowing up the figures of him and those twenty-three yōkai.
Imagawa Yoshimoto said nothing now, only using that paper fan to veil her face, her eyes turning.
One second, two seconds...
Yet Kōbe Hikaru's footsteps did not stop in the slightest.
He knew what she was thinking.
She was gambling.
Gambling that he wouldn't really leave, gambling that he needed the Imagawa clan's resources.
But she had gotten one thing wrong.
Kōbe Hikaru did indeed need a power base, but it did not have to be the Imagawa.
Though Hōjō Ujiyasu had been taken captive, so long as he was willing to wait, or simply went to rescue the person, the Hōjō clan remained a decent option.
And Imagawa Yoshimoto?
She had no choice.
That single hammer-blow from the red-haired woman of the Takeda just now had already smashed her pride and her confidence to dust.
No divine artifact, no Demon God.
In this coming war—where the incarnations of gods and buddhas would dance in chaos—she was nothing but a slab of fat meat waiting to be slaughtered.
And this, she understood better than anyone.
Kōbe Hikaru was exploiting precisely that fear, exploiting the fact that she had nothing.
This was an outrageous, sky-high asking price.
It was, even more, an utterly undisguised squeeze.
One step, two steps, three steps.
Kōbe Hikaru's figure was already half-submerged in the thick mist.
Imagawa Yoshimoto's face at last changed. She stood where she was, clutching that folding fan in her hand, gripping it with a faint force.
She watched that back that showed not the slightest reluctance.
She could see it—he truly was about to leave.
And what flashed through her mind then was the sight of the carnage beneath the iron hooves of the Takeda Red Guard, was the unstoppable edge beneath that great banner bearing the character 'Bi' that Uesugi Kenshin flew, as described in her scouts' reports.
And there was also the image of herself, seated in a gorgeous palanquin, yet as helpless and powerless as a clown.
Unwilling. She was unwilling.
Truly unwilling to accept it.
She, Imagawa Yoshimoto, was one destined to march on the capital, one destined to unify the realm!
How could she fall here?
"Wait—!"
Imagawa Yoshimoto's voice at last rang out once more, and this time it could not help but carry a note of panic. "I... I can agree to it."
Her voice was not loud, and yet.
This one sentence, she had all but exhausted every ounce of her strength to shout it out.
Completely stripped of that elegance she usually wore as a noble lady of the kugyō.
Kōbe Hikaru's footsteps came to a halt at that.
He did not turn around, only angling his body slightly. Beneath the oni mask, the corner of his mouth curled up faintly—an arrogant, triumphant smirk that set Imagawa Yoshimoto grinding her teeth.
"All of it?"
"All of it!"
Imagawa Yoshimoto clenched her teeth, that lovely, delicate face flushing crimson, yet still resolute and unyielding, as though afraid she would come to regret it.
"Military authority—it's yours. This bunch of... this bunch of little yōkai, I'll keep them too. Your conditions—I agree to all of them!"
The wind blew across the battlefield.
It lifted the intricate, magnificent hem of her jūnihitoe.
Kōbe Hikaru, having paused his steps, turned around once more.
The blood mist dispersed, and he stood again within her line of sight.
He looked at this girl trembling all over with rage.
The afternoon sunlight fell upon her, those layer upon layer of collars binding tightly around her slender neck, her chest rising and falling erratically from her violent panting. Beneath the luxurious fabric, the girl's small, delicate frame seemed to be bearing a pressure on the verge of snapping.
Disheveled, and yet genuine.
"Deal."
Kōbe Hikaru's smile did not change.
The squeeze had succeeded—
Imagawa Yoshimoto let out a long breath, and as though her very spine had been pulled out of her, her figure swayed and swayed, nearly collapsing to the ground.
She glared fiercely at Kōbe Hikaru.
In that gaze there was both the fury of one who wished to bite him, and a kind of relief at having survived a brush with death.
"...Bastard Demon God."
She cursed under her breath, then turned around, putting her back to him, unwilling to let him see her expression right now.
"Back to camp!"
She roared at the samurai and ashigaru all around her, who had long since been struck dumb with astonishment:
"What are you all standing around dazed for? Prepare to return to Suruga!"
"And get things ready for me too—offerings on all four sides. Throughout the land of Suruga, build 'Shrines'..."
That night.
Upon a small hill near the battlefield.
Moonlight flowed like water, spilling across the forest clearing at the hilltop.
Twenty-three little yōkai formed a circle, kneeling prostrate upon the ground.
Kōbe Hikaru sat upon a large slab of green stone in the center, having removed the oni mask, revealing that pale, handsome, spirited face.
In his hand he held that dark-purple reverse scale of the Dokukō, yet his gaze fell upon these fellows before him.
They looked more spirited than before.
Perhaps it was because they knew they now had a place to belong, a backer to rely on—and were even about to possess a status they would never have dared to imagine before.
That tanuki spirit who led them knelt at the very front, cradling that broken banner in both paws, knocking its head against the ground with its rump thrust high, tail wagging back and forth in excitement.
"My lord... no, master!"
The tanuki spirit's voice was trembling, carrying a fervor bordering on worship: "You truly... truly mean to let us go and become those humans'... gods?"
"Not gods. And you won't receive true faith, either."
Kōbe Hikaru corrected it, his voice sounding clear in the night. "You will only receive dread—receive reverence and fear."
He rose to his feet and walked over to stand before the tanuki spirit.
"I've found you a place, given you an identity. The Imagawa clan will build up momentum for you, and the humans will revere you and make offerings to you because of the legends."
"That dread will become the wellspring of your power."
"You will grow stronger."
"But this is not given for free."
His gaze swept over every single yōkai present.
The one-eyed little monk, the fox-eared girl, the giant rat with a broken leg... all those eyes brimming with dread and worship.
"In exchange, your lives are mine."
"Your eyes will watch this realm on my behalf; your ears will listen for the slightest stir of wind and grass in this world on my behalf."
"When I order you to kill, even if the other party is a believer who once made offerings to you, you must not hesitate. All who betray shall be put to death."
"Understood?"
"Understood!"
The twenty-three yōkai answered in unison.
The voices were not loud, even somewhat ragged and uneven, yet in the silent mountain forest they carried a resolve they had never possessed before—a firmness unprecedented.
They had always been the dregs cast off by the world, the very bottom of this era, the weak.
It was Kōbe Hikaru who had given them a way to live, and moreover, a dignity they had never once imagined.
For that, to offer up everything was only natural.
As they swore their oath.
Kōbe Hikaru sensed a strange aura.
It rose up from the bodies of these twenty-three little yōkai—a faint, ashen-white yōkai aura.
Very feeble.
Like a candle flame in the wind about to gutter out.
But gathered together, they formed a thin stream that flowed, slowly yet steadily, toward Kōbe Hikaru.
Merging into his body.
Kōbe Hikaru closed his eyes, feeling that newly born power.
Though it was still weak for now, the nature of this power was different from any power he had possessed before.
It seemed to be the 'core of a force field' formed with these twenty-three little yōkai before him as its collective.
It was also like a kind of divine rank.
A sovereign ruler. From this day on.
He was no longer a lonely, wandering ghost.
He was—
the true master of the Night Parade of Twenty-Three Demons.
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