Outside Kyoto, Sesshomaru slid his trusted sword, Bakusaiga, back into its sheath, his expression dark with frustration.
His blade could split mountains and cut down thousands of demons in one swing. Yet, against the Yellow Spring Rebirth · Wheel-Turning King's barrier, it faltered. Each strike felt empty, like slicing through thin air, though he knew the edge had met the barrier's surface.
It reminded him of trying to cut water; not a question of sharpness, but of the target itself. Even if he carved the surface into a thousand pieces, it would heal in a heartbeat.
Bakusaiga's raw power, capable of overwhelming armies, meant little here. The barrier tied the city, its leylines, and every living soul together, spreading any attack across them all.
Even Bakusaiga couldn't level an entire city in a single blow. Dozens, maybe hundreds of strikes might do it, but the leylines would mend the damage between each swing.
To shatter this barrier, he didn't need brute force. He needed a blade that could slice through and drink its energy: Tetsusaiga.
If Tsuda and Sesshomaru gripped Tetsusaiga together, fueled by Sesshomaru's demon strength and the silver orb, Tsuda could unlock the sword's secret technique.
But there was a problem.
"What should I do?" Tsuda sat on the ground, clutching Tetsusaiga, his gaze lost as he muttered to himself.
Rihan had warned them: three days remained before the Yellow Spring claimed the demon sword, and the girls. They had to break the barrier within that time, but doing so would bring heavy losses to the city.
As Tetsusaiga's wielder, the decision rested on Tsuda's shoulders. Everyone around him was stronger, yet none would take the sword; not even Sesshomaru.
Sesshomaru spared the boy a glance, then turned to watch the dusk settle over the wilds.
Tsuda, adopted by the Inukagami Shrine, was technically his junior. Out of respect and decorum, Sesshomaru wouldn't snatch Tetsusaiga. Besides, his fixation on the blade had faded; it was now just a keepsake from his father and brother.
Still, if Tsuda couldn't choose, Sesshomaru would step in without hesitation.
His sense of morality wasn't like most. Even if it cost countless lives, he'd save the one he'd come for.
He wasn't concerned about Tetsusaiga rejecting him. His demon energy outstripped his father's, and Inuyasha had never come close. If it resisted, he'd bend it to his will.
Rihan and Yuki Onna patched up Ushioni and Karasu Tengu, waiting and honing their weapons for the right moment.
Haru stayed alert, sensing a hidden presence. Oddly, only he noticed it; neither Sesshomaru nor Rihan, with their sharp senses, seemed to pick it up. The spy's skill was unnerving.
Haru kept quiet, pretending not to notice, hoping to catch them off guard later.
He wandered over to Tsuda, frowning at the boy's distracted look, and nudged him with a light kick.
"Hey, Atsu, come with me."
Tsuda blinked, trailing after Haru to the side.
As they walked, Haru asked, "You seem troubled. Want to tell me what's on your mind?"
Tsuda hesitated, then mumbled, "If… if I don't…"
"You're thinking that breaking the barrier will kill a lot of people, and it'll be your fault, right?"
"…Yeah."
Haru glanced at him. "You're overthinking it. You're just a kid; you can't carry that kind of weight, and it's not yours to carry. You want to save your childhood friend, don't you?"
"But… so many innocent people live in the city."
"And Shion isn't innocent?"
Haru stopped, turning to face him. "Both sides are innocent. The difference is numbers."
"One side has tens of thousands of strangers, living their lives without ever knowing you. The other has one person; your family, someone you've grown up with."
"Which do you pick?"
Tsuda's eyes grew red. "I don't know. Either way feels wrong…"
"No, either way is right."
Haru met his gaze steadily. "Selflessness or selfishness; neither is better. It's just a choice you make."
"I know it's harsh, but you have to decide: which side?"
"Save one and lose many, or save many and lose one?"
Tsuda clenched his fists, jaw tight. "I… Brother Haru, what would you do?"
"My answer won't help you. You need to—" Haru paused, seeing Tsuda's teary eyes, and softened.
"Me? How would I choose?"
Haru's mind drifted, not to a person, but to his past life: a plain room, a thin bed, a small window.
Through it, he'd seen a few trees, their green leaves the only color in his gray world.
Then, one day, they were gone; cut down for some city plan.
He hadn't felt despair, but anger, a burning, aimless rage.
That's when he understood: the world is huge, but your own world is tiny. It can break overnight, and you're left with nothing.
Even if you just want to live quietly, others will hurt you, on purpose or not.
They might not mean it, but you'll hate them anyway. What else is there?
People say to forgive, but where does the anger go after that?
In the end, it's a choice: hurt others or hurt yourself.
If it comes to that, why put strangers first?
Selfishness shields you more than kindness ever will.
"I'd probably pick the few who matter to me, even if it meant giving up a crowd of strangers," Haru said quietly. "I'm no saint. I can't be that noble."
"But… wouldn't you feel guilty?"
Haru gave him a sharp look. "And if you let Shion go, how would you feel?"
"…I'd rather die!"
"If you're not scared of dying, why fear guilt?" Haru said evenly. "You know what you want. You're just looking for a reason to feel okay about it. But there's no clean path here. You'll carry something either way."
Tsuda fell silent, his hand brushing Tetsusaiga's hilt, a quiet resolve taking root.
"Brother Haru, can you teach me how to use a sword?"
—--------------------------------------------------------------------------
That day, four uninvited guests arrived at Shirou's workshop, carrying orders from the Yellow Spring.
"Master Shirou, Lord Yellow Spring sent us to assist you."
They were tall, draped in loose white robes, gripping monk staff. Only their glowing eyes showed; like ghosts wrapped in cloth.
Handpicked by Shirou, they were both helpers and overseers.
Shirou eyed them. "I thought he'd show up himself for the final step."
"Lord Yellow Spring has bigger concerns," one replied. "He said: Master Shirou can be trusted."
Shirou clenched his teeth inwardly. Of course, the man saw right through him. With Yuri as leverage, Shirou's feelings didn't matter.
"Fine, then let's get started!"
He tossed aside his worn apron and slipped into the clothes they'd brought.
A black kosode, a white haori with floral patterns, and arm guards stretching from wrist to shoulder.
The attire was too fancy for a swordsmith, useless against heat or sparks, but no one questioned it.
This wasn't for forging. It was for a ritual.
And for a ritual, the right look mattered.
"Heave—ho!"
"Up!"
The four lifted the furnace, brimming with tons of molten steel, as if it weighed nothing. They pressed against the searing metal, unbothered by the heat, not even wincing.
The furnace tipped, spilling white-hot liquid into a waterwheel-like contraption and countless chains rattled and gears spun.
Shirou stood at the other end, watching. Before him was an upside-down pyramid funnel, feeding into a stone platform carved with strange markings.
Oddly, the flood of molten steel vanished into the machine, swallowed whole. After about a tenth had poured, the funnel twitched.
Drip.
A thick, colorless drop landed on the stone—not water, not steel. It began to harden, shaping into a smooth sphere.
Before it set, Shirou took a deep breath and swung his hammer.
Clang!
A pale light flashed between the hammer and sphere.
The hammerhead glowed, heating like molten rock.
He struck again and again, steady and strong. There were no sparks; just an eerie glow and a harsh scrape.
Unseen, a silver-gray patch crept onto his right arm, rough like weathered stone.
Time slipped away. At last, he fit the sphere into the stone's pattern. Before he could rest, another drop fell from the funnel.
This one was snow-white. When he hit it, a woman's soft and charming voice murmured in his ear.
Shirou remained unmoved, hammering on, focused yet relentless.
Sometimes, he saw gold treasures flicker by. Other times, it was blood-soaked battlefields, or faint memories of the three siblings scraping by in their little shack.
He faced each vision and pushed past them, pouring his will into every swing.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
It felt endless.
—--------------------------------------------------------------------------
Outside, Ibaraki douji, who was staring at the sky, caught a black snowflake and tilted her head.
"The snow… it's lighter?"
She laughed, loud and bright. "Hahaha, something fun is going on!"
The two demon heads at the workshop gate glanced at each other, confused.
—--------------------------------------------------------------------------
Shirou snapped his eyes open, breaking from his meditation. "It's time."
"Jiu… are you alright?"
Jiu knelt. "Thanks to your skill, my lord, I'm fine. Losing an arm isn't much; there are ways to manage."
"Good." Shirou's brow creased slightly. He hated relying on her, but she was the one he trusted most.
"It's time. Open the gate of the underworld."
Jiu's pulse jumped, but she nodded and moved to prepare.
…..
Over a hundred armored demon warriors stormed into High Heaven Tower. Under Jiu's orders, the cleansed shrine maidens formed a line, each shadowed by a demon guard so even if they wanted to run there was no room for it.
The long procession didn't leave the tower but gathered at its base. Jiu approached a carving of Susanoo slaying Orochi and pressed the serpent's eye.
Rumble!
A ten-meter-wide hole yawned open in the hall's center, revealing stairs plunging downward.
Jiu led the way and demon warriors lighting torches, guiding the maidens into the dark.
They walked for what felt like forever, as if sinking into the underworld. The maidens grew restless, whispers rippling through them.
Just as unease peaked, light glowed ahead. They spilled out into a massive underground cavern.
The ceiling curved like a sky, the space sprawling across dozens of fields, lit by countless oil lamps. It was silent, empty, dead.
No—almost. In the center sat a small mound, ringed by rough stones, looking plain and lonely.
"Ah, everyone's here," Shirou said, stepping forward with a smile. "Big brother needs a little help today."
The maidens shifted, fear flickering in their eyes.
Shirou scratched his head, troubled. "But I don't need all of youjust a few will do. The rest… just wait here."
"I promise, it won't hurt or scare you."
"Let's start… with you."
He held out a hand to a girl. "Come, Yuri. It's time."
The mound cracked and a strange red light seeped from within…
—--------------------------------------------------------------------------
"What's that?!" Haru and the others stared upward. "The moon… is that the moon?"
It was dusk, nothing odd about a moon rising. But this one was different.
"Black… the moon?"
Yes, a moon as dark as a bottomless pit.
.....
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