"The power… I feel the power! Hahaha!"
Laughing in a completely unhinged way—truly unhinged, as if he were performing in a stage play—a young man with golden hair, blue eyes, and features that blended Eastern and Western traits in perfect harmony stretched his arms wide.
Those outstretched arms were clearly part of the theatrics. What was not part of the show, however, were the two flickering golden tails swirling around him, and the pair of golden fox ears atop his head.
"Weren't you talking last night about how dangerous those fragments are?"
Stroking his white beard while keeping a cautious distance from Asahiko, Saya—the spirit living in the sheath of Clouded Fang—asked a crucial question.
Crucial because, yes, Asahiko was using the pearl fragments to increase his number of tails by one… though perhaps it would be more accurate to say he was recovering his power. With him, it was never quite clear. Everything about his current life was strange.
"They certainly are dangerous, Saya."
[But not useless!]
"Touche. A point for the proud dragon."
Approving Souga's words—much to Saya's displeasure—the now half-fox young man steadied his breathing. Slowly, the tails and ears began to disappear.
At the same time, the spike of energy he had released moments before subsided, though he probably wouldn't be able to control it completely for quite some time.
[Hahaha! Being called proud is no insult to me! Now tell me—what kind of new powers do you have?]
"…Like Clouded Fang."
[What does that mean?]
"It means I've got the same old garbage as always! No new power, no new brilliance… just the same thing, only slightly improved."
Slapping his face and then massaging his forehead as if he couldn't believe it, Asahiko let out a long sigh before walking over to bang his head against a nearby tree.
[My power isn't just throwing red lights around, you ignorant fool! The problem is you never want to listen to me. That coward has your brain washed!]
"Yeah… he does."
"What, me? But I've never been against it—so long as you don't get tricked by him, obviously."
[Then what's going on?!]
Realizing his lie was getting out of hand, Asahiko stopped hitting his head against the tree and put on an awkward expression.
"It's just that… God, you make me look like the villain. Controlling the dead, devouring their souls… wounds that never heal. You didn't say anything, but you still said everything."
[What did you expect, hugs and kisses? Or have you forgotten the evil sword part?]
Mocking Asahiko for his… "weakness," Souga went as far as admitting he was a sword—even though he was really more like Saya. One was the spirit of the sheath, the other the spirit of the blade, though Souga would never admit that openly.
"He has a point, young Asahiko. Clouded Fang's powers… may not be the most ethical or visually pleasant, but their effectiveness cannot be denied."
"Since when do you even consider whether he's right?"
"I… I—"
"Lord Asahiko!"
"I'll leave you to it. Seems like you're needed elsewhere."
Floating back to Clouded Fang with surprising speed, Saya slipped into his safe place and fell silent, leaving Asahiko alone with the newcomer.
The young man looked average in every way—short black hair and brown eyes—but the fire of youth burned brightly in his voice.
"Lord Asahiko, my master has sent me to fetch you. I would be grateful if you would accompany me to the residence. Miss Kikyo is waiting for you outside."
"Of course. Lead the way."
Accepting the invitation while fastening Clouded Fang back at his waist, Asahiko straightened his clothes with a couple of pats and followed the soldier.
…Elsewhere…
"When will they arrive? My lord hopes to see them as soon as possible."
"Relax. I've already sent one of my men to inform them. They should be here shortly."
Sipping from his teacup, still steaming from the drink's heat, the host of Kikyo and Asahiko—and lord of this land—slowly explained the situation to the samurai kneeling before him.
His slow, measured way of speaking was a clear display of superiority. Perhaps somewhat arrogant or even malicious depending on perspective, but necessary given that the samurai had arrived with troops and demanded to see his saviors.
If the lord hadn't possessed his own army, weapons, and fortifications, that samurai might have tried to walk all over him.
"My lord, Priestess Kikyo and Lord Asahiko have arrived."
"What are you waiting for? Let them in. Our guest has been waiting quite some time."
"Please, my lord and his guest are waiting inside."
Opening the sliding door to allow Kikyo and Asahiko inside, the soldier bowed politely before stepping away and closing the door behind them, sealing the room once more.
Inside, they immediately noticed the guest they had been summoned to meet—but their reactions were very different.
Asahiko showed little to no genuine interest. Something about the man gave him a bad feeling.
Kikyo, on the other hand, displayed the faintest trace of curiosity toward the samurai—but as usual, she hid it beneath her mask of indifference.
"This is Takiomi, a samurai serving a lord whose lands neighbor mine. He has heard of your services and wishes to hire you. Of course, you may refuse—I will not allow any threats against you."
"Thank you, but if you'll excuse us, we'd like to discuss it in—"
"We'll do it. Let him begin explaining the matter."
Leaving Asahiko behind in stunned silence—since he had never expected her to take the initiative in matters like this—Kikyo sat down at the table.
Swallowing the surprise threatening to escape him, Asahiko simply glanced at Kikyo's impassive face before sitting beside her, signaling the samurai with his eyes to begin.
"Our lord… our lord is ill. At first it was mild—small aches here, a bit of fatigue there. Nothing to worry about. But a few weeks ago, everything changed for the worse."
"Hmm. I suppose it's somehow connected to the pearl, right, Kikyo?"
"Perhaps… but I don't think that's all."
Speaking half in code, essentially discussing whether the worsening illness might be connected to the pearl, Kikyo and Asahiko fell silent.
"The pain worsened until it left him bedridden, and the fatigue became complete weakness, making him sleep more than he stays awake."
"Is it a disease? I've heard that strange new varieties have appeared since those merchants from beyond the sea arrived."
"We thought the same. But the best healers all told us the same thing: the lord's body is as strong as stone. The damage is not physical—something spiritual is draining his strength, and we cannot stop it."
Striking the floor with his gloved fist, the samurai lowered his head and pressed his lips together, displaying truly admirable loyalty toward his lord.
"What do you think, Kikyo? I don't know why, but this gives me a bad feeling—which is odd, since I'm usually the good one in this relationship."
"First, stop whispering in my ear. And about your doubts… there is some truth to them, since that samurai is dead."
"Pff—excuse me, what?!"
Nearly choking on his own saliva, Asahiko grabbed Kikyo's shoulders to steady himself and stared at her as she turned toward him.
According to her, that samurai—the one moving around, speaking normally, breathing continuously, standing right beside them…—was actually dead.
Were they crazy, or what was going on?
"Are you alright, Lord Asahiko?"
"Yes, he's perfectly fine. And we've decided to accept this job immediately."
"Then let us depart at once! There is no time to waste!"
Rising to his feet with completely natural speed and fluidity—making Kikyo's words seem absurd—the samurai picked up his helmet from the floor and looked at them.
"Get up already. You're too heavy."
"That's completely false!"
"We're leaving."
Completely ignoring Asahiko's protest—since he had remained leaning against her a little longer than necessary—Kikyo smoothed her clothes with her hands and took a few steps after the samurai, though she soon stopped and waited for him.
Sometimes actions spoke louder than a thousand words.
And for Asahiko, this was definitely one of those moments—his blue eyes shining brightly.