The Province of Kai.
The main stronghold of the Takeda clan—the Takeda Residence.
This fortress had neither the towering stone ramparts of Odawara Castle, nor the gaudy, eye-searing ornamentation of the Imagawa in Suruga.
It was a manor built against the mountainside, encircled by a deep moat and wooden palisades—so plain it hardly seemed the dwelling of one who ruled a province.
Yet no one dared look down on this place.
For the woman who lived here was the Tiger of Kai.
Takeda Shingen.
Just as the Imagawa clan descended from a branch of the reigning shogunal house of Ashikaga, the bloodline of the Takeda clan ran just as long and deep—tracing back to the Minamoto of the old Heian era. In sheer nobility of birth, they were in no way inferior to the Imagawa; if anything, they surpassed them.
And Takeda Shingen was the finest of all the Takeda across the generations.
One with the hope of swallowing the realm whole!
At this moment, in the innermost hall of the fortress, steam billowed thick in the air.
Natural hot spring water welled up from between the mountain rocks, pouring into a pool ringed with massive boulders. A few red leaves drifted upon the surface—as if deliberately arranged for decoration, or perhaps carelessly blown down by the autumn wind.
Takeda Shingen soaked in the pool.
She looked to be not yet twenty, her features proper and carrying a certain heroic air. They were not delicate so much as imposing—thick brows, phoenix eyes, a straight-bridged nose, slightly full lips—born with a commanding pressure that inspired awe without her ever needing to show anger.
Deep crimson hair clung wetly to her shoulders, sliding down her spine into the water.
The lines of her bare shoulders and collarbone above the water were smooth, and below that lay the silhouette of her figure, half-veiled by the steam and dimly visible beneath the surface.
Hōjō Ujiyasu had not been wrong.
The word 'huge breasts,' applied to Takeda Shingen, was truly no exaggeration.
The water rippled faintly, and those two mounds buoyed up by the hot water could not be concealed even by the ripples themselves.
Her eyes were closed, a clay bowl held in her hand—unrefined sake within it, already half drunk.
Utterly at ease.
"—Let go of me! You pack of savages! I am the head of the Hōjō clan!"
From the far end of the corridor came a voice that was decidedly ill at ease.
Takeda Shingen's brow twitched, but she did not open her eyes.
The footsteps were hurried and chaotic.
The sliding door was flung open with force.
Hōjō Ujiyasu stepped into the bath hall.
Her armor was still fully on, her long black hair thrown into utter disarray from being clamped under someone's arm and hauled at a dead run the whole way. Her face bore an expression mixing fury with humiliation.
Her deep-purple kimono was crumpled beyond recognition, and mud still clung to the plates of her armor.
"Takeda—Shingen—!"
Hōjō Ujiyasu bit out every syllable.
"Your men seized me and dragged me here—what is the meaning of this?"
Takeda Shingen finally opened her eyes.
Those phoenix eyes looked especially languid in the steam. She swept a glance over Hōjō Ujiyasu, then closed them again.
"Sit."
"I will not sit! I will not sit!"
"Then stand."
Takeda Shingen raised the hand holding the sake bowl and gestured toward a wooden stool at the side.
"The sake's over there. Pour it yourself."
A vein throbbed at Hōjō Ujiyasu's temple.
"I did not come here to drink."
"I know."
Takeda Shingen downed the unrefined sake in the bowl in one gulp and set the empty vessel casually on a stone at the pool's edge.
She rose up from the water.
Water slid down her body, running along that tall, athletic figure.
Nothing covered her.
Nothing at all.
Hōjō Ujiyasu's face flushed crimson in an instant, and she snapped her head away.
"Put some clothes on before you talk!"
"My territory. I wear what I like—or nothing at all."
Takeda Shingen walked to the pool's edge, picked up a thin gauze bathrobe at random, and draped it loosely over herself—sash unfastened, the front hanging wide open across a broad stretch of skin.
She leaned against the stone at the pool's edge, her dripping red hair clinging to her neck, those phoenix eyes half-open as she regarded Hōjō Ujiyasu.
"Now to business."
Hōjō Ujiyasu drew three deep breaths before she could barely compose herself. "You sent Yamagata Masakage to strike the Imagawa's rear guard, and then had me carried off—what do you call this?"
"Saving you."
"I do not need your saving!"
"You'd been dragged into a standoff with Imagawa Yoshimoto out in the open, your rear left hollow. And Uesugi Kenshin of Echigo has just broken clean through your northern defensive line."
Takeda Shingen replied as though it were the most obvious thing in the world:
"If I hadn't sent anyone, you'd have ground it out with the Imagawa at Yadaihara until the end of the month—and by the time you came to your senses, the northern gate of Odawara Castle would likely already be bristling with banners bearing the character 'Bi.'"
Hōjō Ujiyasu's expression changed.
"Echigo—broke through the north?"
"Three days ago."
Takeda Shingen lifted her hand, counting on her fingers. "Every one of your northern watchposts wiped out. Uesugi's vanguard has already pushed into the central part of Musashi Province."
"That woman who calls herself the incarnation of Bishamonten—this time she's serious."
Hōjō Ujiyasu fell silent.
It was not that she did not believe it.
It was that—she did not dare to believe it.
"Why tell me this?"
Hōjō Ujiyasu raised her head, her gaze wary.
"Because while you and the Imagawa are having such a lively brawl over there and Uesugi snaps up the spoils behind you—there's nothing in it for me either."
Takeda Shingen spoke with utter bluntness: "I don't mind watching the two of you bite at each other. But if Uesugi takes Musashi, her blades will be pointed straight at Kai."
"Don't forget—we were allies to begin with."
At this point, Takeda Shingen paused briefly before going on:
"With Uesugi pushing south, the shogun and the kugyō over in Kyoto are watching the show too. I hear the Onmyōryō has lately been detecting frequent anomalies of yōkai aura all across the land, and those old fossils are mulling over whether to issue an imperial decree—commanding the daimyō of every province to purge the demons and monsters on their own."
"And if that decree comes down, Uesugi's recent movements will suddenly have a righteous pretext."
"She marches under the banner of Bishamonten, slaying demons—who could dare say a word against it?"
Hōjō Ujiyasu's fist clenched tight.
Kyoto.
The shogun.
The Onmyōryō.
These seemingly distant presences nonetheless still exerted a very real influence over the situation of war in the Kantō.
"And your people, then?"
Hōjō Ujiyasu suddenly asked.
"Those monsters under your command—the likes of Yamagata Masakage—how many more are there?"
Takeda Shingen glanced at her.
And laughed.
That laugh was neither deep nor shallow, carrying a hint of amusement.
"You'll find out in time."
"That's not what you should be worrying about right now."
She stood, and the front of the bathrobe slipped a little further, exposing enough that Hōjō Ujiyasu once more averted her eyes.
"First, patch up your northern defensive line."
"As for the Imagawa's side—"
"She won't be making a move for a while yet."
It was not that she did not dare, nor that she could not.
It was that she would not.
…
Musashi Province, Kaede Village.
Dusk was drawing near.
Unlike the blade-and-blood-fire raging hundreds and thousands of li away, this tiny village still held onto a rare tranquility—a true haven apart from the world, even amid the chaos of the entire Warring States era.
The rice ears in the fields hung heavy, bowing their heads; cooking smoke rose from the rooftops; now and then an ox-cart creaked and groaned its way along the village road.
The Shrine sat at the highest point of the village.
The glow of the barrier flickered faintly in and out of the air. The composite barrier laid down by Kikyō still ran steadily—defense, early warning, purification, three layers stacked together, wrapping the entire village within.
But beyond the barrier.
On a hill to the north, a figure too had halted to gaze out.
White robe, red hakama.
Shrine maiden's garb. Tsubaki. Utterly alone.
She had not brought along her fellow disciples—the red-and-white shrine maiden, Momiji, nor the blue-and-white shrine maiden, Botan.
She had simply gone on ahead, arriving here in advance.
Although she had already prepared for how she would deal with Kikyō and Kōbe Hikaru, Tsubaki did not barge straight into the barrier.
She merely lifted her head here, looking toward the Shrine.
On that gorgeous face hung a meticulously crafted smile, the upward tilt at the corners of her eyes carrying an arrogant edge.
Her hand was hidden within her sleeve.
Clasped in that sleeve was a tiny porcelain vial.
The liquid contained inside the vial was a dark crimson.
Demon blood.
Blood that had splattered when that undying demon attacked outside the demon-slaying village last time.
After the battle ended, Tsubaki had quietly collected some of it.
As a shrine maiden, her combat ability was indeed nothing top-tier.
Compared to Kikyō's terrifying spiritual power—which could kill a high-ranking yōkai in a single arrow, enough even to threaten a great yōkai—she fell far short.
But she possessed the very highest talent attainable by a normal shrine maiden—or rather, a standard human sorcerer.
Given enough time, she too could devise all manner of means to counter a powerful foe.
Over this past month, she had conducted detailed experiments on that vial of demon blood.
She had no way to unravel the demon's undying body—that regenerative essence, unrelated to yōkai, lay beyond the bounds of her common understanding.
It was neither yōkai aura nor spiritual power, but more like some unsolvable disease… or perhaps, a medicinal effect?
But she had discovered one thing.
Highly concentrated demon blood held an extremely powerful attraction for its own kind.
Within a hundred li in every direction, as long as this vial of blood was exposed to the open air, the evil demons lurking in the dark corners would swarm toward it like sharks that had caught the scent of blood.
In the meantime.
Tsubaki gazed at that faint glow of spiritual power hanging over the distant Shrine.
She could sense that this barrier was strong.
The spiritual power held within it had grown even purer.
Kikyō's strength, too, was greater than when she'd last seen her. She had improved again.
But it made no difference.
What she wanted was not to defeat Kikyō head-on.
What she wanted was—to make Kikyō kill.
More precisely, to make others believe that Kikyō was killing people.
Demons were not yōkai.
Demons were beings that arose when humans were infected and mutated by a special blood.
In the perception of the Tahōtō shrine maidens, a demon's life-force was extremely similar to a human's—because they had been human to begin with.
They were sick people.
Sick people eroded by disease, unable to turn back.
If, when Momiji and Botan arrived, what they saw was Kikyō standing amid a heap of human corpses—
Then all those lies she had fabricated before would come true.
"A fallen shrine maiden."
"The accomplice of a murderous, vicious yōkai who kills without blinking."
"A wicked woman who won't spare even the sick."
As long as she could make Kikyō waver for a single instant, she would have her chance.
Tsubaki's fingers traced across the mouth of that porcelain vial, and the curve at the corner of her lips deepened.
Momiji and Botan were still on the road; she had deliberately set out a day early.
Because she needed the time—needed to set the stage for this play before her two junior disciples arrived.
Kikyō, oh Kikyō…
She murmured under her breath, a cold and sinister smile surfacing on that gorgeous face. "This time, you cannot win."
The dusk grew ever thicker.
Tsubaki's figure withdrew into the thicket beside the mountain path, vanishing beyond the perceptive range of the barrier.
She was waiting.
Waiting for night to fall.
Waiting for those evil demons that had caught the scent of their own kind's blood to crawl out of the darkness from every direction.
Waiting for them to surge toward Kaede Village.
Waiting for Kikyō to be forced to act.
Waiting for Momiji and Botan to see the 'most fitting' scene at the most fitting moment.
Her plan had only just begun.
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