After a brief moment of surprise, Shirou decided to brush away the strange feeling in his chest. Because when that peculiar word popped into his mind, so did a parade of names like Astolfo, D'eon, Nemo... and countless bizarre associations.
"Looks like you've already heard my name. You're not from the surface world, are you?"
Shirou calmed himself and made a judgment. As he spoke, his eyes subtly glanced toward the distance, where Erii was still happily playing with a wig and makeup brush, completely self-absorbed. To her, as long as she wasn't at home, playing outside felt like complete freedom.
Sigh... Children's happiness really is so simple.
"Mhm, correct." Kazama Ruri removed the long-haired girl's wig, restoring his short masculine hairstyle.
Even so, on close inspection, his features still held an androgynous charm. The power of the "trap" was truly terrifying…
"Whose side are you on? Don't tell me... you're also here to recruit me…"
"Shirou, you're someone who's done something world-shaking. Who wouldn't want to get close to you or bring you to their side? Rather than diving straight into titles and allegiances, as a kabuki lover, I'd like to start with a little history—"
"Let me think, you've definitely heard the tale of the Four Heavenly Kings of the Genji slaying the Oni of Mt. Oe, haven't you?"
Shirou caught on to something. "Of course. The legends of the Genji are known by nearly everyone in this country… You're talking about that famous Genji descendant in this city, right?"
"Yep. Looks like they beat me to the punch in reaching out to you. But unfortunately, my faction isn't among the praised demon-slayers. We're the ones they were trying to slay—the 'Oni Clans'."
"You're an oni!?"
"No, not exactly. The Oni Clans aren't directly equivalent to demons. We're not fully fallen. It's just that, due to our high blood purity, we're considered dangerous and treated as ticking time bombs," Kazama Ruri explained briefly.
"No wonder Genji's heir calls himself a demon-slayer. His targets are people like you."
Shirou recalled that Oni bloodlines were nearly extinct in modern times. Pureblood mythical creatures were virtually unseen now. But people with mixed oni blood, whether ability users or magi, still existed—like Azaka Kouma from Tsukihime or the Lucentdra family from Fate/Strange Fake, known for researching oni blood.
"That's right. But tell me, Shirou… do you really think we deserve to be hunted just because we're dangerous? Has the world ever considered that many of us 'oni' only long for peace? If we had the chance to live quietly, who would choose to run around causing chaos?"
Kazama Ruri's words hinted at sympathy for those in his group.
The Oni Clans, within the ruling Snake Eight Families, had already been demonized—branded as a fanatical, unredeemable sect obsessed with evolution, labeled no different than true monsters.
But that only represented a portion of their members.
Most of them had joined out of desperation.
Born with unstable bloodlines, they were deemed "potential demons" by the Snake Families. As a result, they were denied education, jobs, family, and freedom. Treated like prisoners, strictly monitored, interrogated regularly, and if their blood condition worsened—imprisoned for life or executed.
To escape such fates, many fled into the Oni Clans, because under the shadowy rule of the Snake Eight Families, there was nowhere else to go.
Unless they gave up everything and fled the country—which wasn't exactly easy either. Regular travel was monitored, and even black market escape routes could be compromised.
That's why many of these "oni" who simply wanted to survive ended up falling into the Oni Clans… only to discover the madness within—an obsession with evolving into gods.
But that wasn't what most of them wanted.
"We don't want to be monsters. If we had the chance, we'd choose to live in the sunlight like anyone else."
"If that's really the case… then maybe there's a way…"
Shirou didn't know how to mediate between two sides with hatred stretching back a thousand years. But a thought struck him—Azaka Kouma. Pureblood oni, but not a berserker. He chose seclusion and cultivation to suppress his instincts.
So perhaps… cultivation was a solution?
Then again… not everyone could walk that path. Immortality wasn't a casual goal, and not everyone had the talent to even begin that journey.
(Within the Nasuverse, true sages are akin to gods.)
"No need, Shirou. I appreciate your consideration. But our conflict with the demon-slayers is irreconcilable—especially since we've yet to purge those among us who seek godhood."
At this point, Kazama Ruri's mind flashed to a certain masked man—a terrifying oni-like figure wearing a noh mask with a twisted courtly smile. Hatred and fear surged in his eyes but quickly faded.
That man was the Oni Clans' most mysterious leader—"Ōshō."
Ōshō appeared out of nowhere over a decade ago, bringing with him a drug that supposedly advanced oni bloodlines—sparking a wave of fanatics obsessed with becoming gods.
He was also the one who brought Ruri into the Oni Clans, naming him "Ryūō" (Dragon King), the second-in-command. But in truth, Ōshō only wanted to use Ruri's overwhelming strength to control the group.
Ruri refused to be his puppet. Within the growing madness of the Oni Clans, he began cultivating his own moderate faction.
But despite years of effort, only a handful dared oppose the fanatics.
He had tried assassinating Ōshō many times. But no matter how he killed him—snapped his neck, destroyed his organs, dismembered him—the next day, Ōshō would return unscathed.
Like a demon even hell couldn't contain.
"Wait… are you saying someone in your group is actually trying to become a god?"
Shirou blinked. He had just used that excuse to manipulate the Genji heir. And now, someone was handing him real intelligence?
"Let me guess, Ruri—this person you're talking about… wears a mask?"
"Eh? Yeah…"
Shock rippled through Ruri's face. How did Shirou know that?
He stared at Shirou's calm expression, trying to figure out if he'd met Ōshō before. But Shirou didn't look like someone being manipulated.
And if Ōshō had known of Shirou, he wouldn't dare make contact—Shirou had slain a god. Instead, he would have tried to kill him… but clearly failed, if he had tried.
"Let me guess again—your problem is you can't kill him, right?"
"!?"
Ruri shot up from his swivel chair. Though an actor with perfect emotional control, he couldn't hide the storm inside him.
Shirou's words were dead-on.
"Shirou, how do you know this? I thought this was our first contact…"
Ruri narrowed his eyes, scanning Shirou's every detail. Was Ōshō's information leaked?
"So you admit I'm right," Shirou said calmly.
"…Yeah. Impressive. As expected of the man who slew a god—your strength and intelligence are terrifying."
Ruri lowered his gaze, emotions tucked away once more.
Shirou hadn't expected his hunch to be right either.
With Ruri's confirmation, it was clear—Ōshō and the Odin-like figure from the Chen family experiments were cut from the same cloth. The "Greater Grail" project was likely happening here too… with a "god" as its core.
"Listen, Ruri. That masked man—he's not truly immortal. You couldn't kill him because he hid his real body somewhere."
It was simple. Like Zouken, if you didn't kill the main body, the vessel would just keep regenerating.
"...That's it!" Ruri's eyes widened.
He had considered clones before but dismissed it—because the behavior, memories, and even the smallest gestures between Ōshō's "deaths" never changed.
But if others had faced the same thing in the mainland…
Then it wasn't magic—it was perfected cloning technology. This wasn't a miracle. It was man-made.
Which meant Ōshō wasn't immortal. Just a coward hiding behind clones.
But if that was true—
"Shirou-kun, this can't be a coincidence, right? The same tech appearing in two countries… There must be a greater force behind this. Ōshō is just a pawn?"
Ruri's tone turned familiar. Calling him "Shirou-kun" without realizing.
Now free of his fear, his thoughts opened wide.
"You're right. Let's just say… I've fought them more than once. This is the third time. I already know what they're after. I'm just missing two pieces."
One was the mystery of Aoiya. The Genji side was already on that.
The other…
"What is it?"
Ruri asked sincerely. This chance meeting had yielded more than he imagined.
And if he helped Shirou, maybe—just maybe—he could escape Ōshō's shadow and achieve a long-held dream:
To duel his brother, Genji's heir, again.
Because Kazama Ruri was none other than Genji's younger brother, Ritsumei—though unlike his frail primary self, Ruri was the fierce, vengeful second persona.
He still remembered the moment his brother stabbed him through the chest and cast him into a well… all while he, as Ritsumei, had called out happily, "Onii-chan, you're back!"
That betrayal, that blade, was burned into his soul.
He had died… and yet, the oni blood brought him back.
Now he lived only for revenge.
"In this situation, there are just two things missing. One is almost resolved. The other is uncovering the truth behind this 'god'. That's where you come in."
Shirou's words were heavy.
Was he about to suggest storming the Snake Families?
But then Shirou added something that completely broke the tension:
"—I need you to teach me makeup skills!"
…What?
Ruri froze like a samurai hearing his lord, mid-war council, declare: "Play the music! Dance!"
Wait—that's what this was about!?
(End of Chapter)
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