Just at that critical moment, Erii suddenly swung her ancient blade, stabbing it straight into the black mud.
Her movements were crisp and decisive, as if she had long foreseen this "subterranean black mud assault." The instant the ancient blade pierced into the black ooze, all the writhing shadows collapsed and scattered, as if struck by some irresistible force.
Charlotte's danger was thus averted.
But what nearly stopped Shirou's heart was that Erii's body was now stained with a sizable patch of that terrifying black mud!
"Erii!?"
He never expected Erii to personally step into the fight today—let alone that she would be tainted by the black mud because of it. His gaze locked tightly on her, frantically weighing whether he had any means to counter the contamination, but every method he thought of seemed useless.
"I'm fine."
Erii brushed the black mud off like it was nothing more than ordinary dirt. On her notebook, she quickly scribbled those words. It turned out that black ooze had already lost its vitality; that chilling, sinister aura had completely dissipated.
Her eyes remained as clear as water, bright and pure, as if what had just happened was no more than a trivial interlude. There was no sign of any corruption taking root.
"…You nearly scared me to death."
Recalling Erii's divine-like display of "godly authority" earlier, Shirou still felt lingering fear. If this girl had been driven into a frenzy by the black mud's control, the entire Tokyo Metropolis might have been plunged into destruction.
He stepped forward to check Charlotte's condition. The girl seemed physically unscathed, but her whole body trembled—clearly terrified by the crushing wave of despair that the black shadows had brought moments ago.
For all her bravado, the little miss was still just a child—brave on the outside, timid on the inside.
Erii also approached, pulling out a deformed crepe from inside her miko robe, along with a note. She handed both to the dazed Charlotte. The note, written in the gentle tone of an older sister, read:
"Here, I'll share with you. It's a bit cold, but don't mind that."
Charlotte stared blankly as she took the crepe, her feelings a tangled mess. She had looked down on Erii before, thinking she was just an innocent, naive girl. But now, she couldn't deny that she had been treated with pity—and she had no choice but to accept it with gratitude.
"Thank you…" Charlotte said softly, her tone carrying a trace of stiffness.
Shirou ignored the little miss's internal struggle and instead asked the red-haired girl beside him in a low voice, "Erii, why did you decide to personally take part in the fight today? Can you tell me your thoughts?"
Erii's relaxed posture suddenly tightened, as if she had been yanked from pleasant company back into the suffocating ward of an ICU.
She lowered her head—this nervous look was the same she had when facing her family's stern questioning in the past. Every time she had overused her powers, her brother Minamoto Ritsushou or other family members would ask her pointed questions in the same serious tone.
"It's okay, relax. I just want to know what you were thinking inside."
Erii stole a glance upward, studying Shirou's face and finding no harshness there. Her lips pressed together, and then she wrote on her notebook:
"…Onii-san Shirou said that even a monster by birth can become a hero."
These were indeed Shirou's words. If another child had casually quoted him, it might have been seen as clever wordplay, but Erii was different. She never played games with her words—she truly listened and tried to live by what he said.
Erii might still be a naive, inexperienced girl, but in the quiet passing of days, she was growing, expanding her horizons, and working toward transformation. She was like a cherry blossom about to bloom or a butterfly on the verge of breaking free from its cocoon.
Shirou felt a jolt reading her words. He hadn't imagined that an offhand remark would be taken so deeply to heart, becoming her guiding principle for action.
"Then you've done very well, Erii."
He gently patted her head. "That's right—keep walking the path you believe in. One day, you'll grow into a true hero."
"Mm!" The tension on her face melted into a bright smile. She was deeply encouraged—this was the first time she truly recognized she was using her abilities in the right way.
In the past, her family members would keep their distance when asking her to use "Judgement," bowing as though before an ancestral shrine. At best, they'd say, "As expected of our Tsukuyomi no Mikoto." If it were her brother Ritsushou, he might instead say, "Please, and once it's done, let's play a round of games together."
It was as if her entire existence was meant only to be wielded like a divine punishment against enemies. No one had ever told her to consider if there was something more in life worth pursuing.
…After all, the Eight Branches of Orochi wouldn't dare let Erii think for herself—once a weapon can think, it ceases to be a pure weapon.
At that moment, Charlotte suddenly spoke up—she couldn't stand being the third wheel stuck between the pink-hued atmosphere of these two any longer.
"By the way, I think we've left that creepy place behind, haven't we?"
"Huh? We have?"
Shirou turned his head, and indeed, far-off Tokyo was once again lit up brightly. Under the crescent moon, the warm glow of city life filled the night, even causing the stars to retreat. It seemed that defeating the black shadow distorting the ley lines had restored everything to normal.
Erii blinked as the warm streetlight glow dispelled the darkness. She instinctively extended her hand, her white miko sleeve sliding down to reveal jade-like skin—and the faint, dark threads spreading once again beneath it.
A shadow of sadness flickered in her eyes.
————
Genji Heavy Industries Headquarters.
Ritsushou had no idea his sister Erii had followed Shirou into a thrilling adventure on the outskirts. If he knew, he'd likely jump three feet high, drop his jaw to the floor, and maybe even draw his sword to slice Shirou into three pieces.
…Though in that last scenario, the more likely outcome was that he'd be the one cut into three.
Right now, Ritsushou was immersed in thought, feeling slightly excited. He was about to undertake a major milestone in his life—Heroic Spirit summoning.
Leaving aside whatever schemes lay hidden behind the Grail's wish-granting powers, just being able to summon a Genji ancestor from a thousand years ago to fight by his side and slay demons was a publicity stunt like no other. It could boost morale and inspire the people with ease.
Such was its importance that on this summoning night, all eight heads of the Eight Branches were in attendance. The other five family heads sat on the outer ring. Among them, the elderly Fūma Kotarō and Inuyama Gai exchanged subtle glances between Patriarch Tachibana Masamune and Ritsushou.
Tachibana Masamune sat at the very front of the stands, beside the disguised "Erii"—Nono—who was suppressing a yawn and silently mocking the solemn atmosphere: It's just a Heroic Spirit summoning. Haven't they seen one before?
Ritsushou stood before the summoning circle, gazing at the flow of mercury and blood intertwined within. His heart was filled with both expectation and a faint unease.
After all, this entire ritual had been popularized by some anonymous hunter on the web. If Heroic Spirits hadn't been proven real during Shirou's battle in Shinjuku, Ritsushou might never have risked such an unpredictable rite.
He double-checked the completeness of the relics—Minamoto no Raikō's three famous blades, the "Star Armor" helmet, and the Tachibana Armor.
Then, facing the alchemical circle, he prayed silently, calling to the Genji spirits of a thousand years past: Ancestors, will you answer my summons? Please lend me your strength to end this endless cycle of demon slayers and demons locked in mutual slaughter!
Finally, he took a deep breath and raised his hand. "Fill… fill… fill…"
As he chanted, the light in the summoning circle grew more brilliant, the patterns of mercury and blood beginning to flow like living things. Many eyes were locked on the scene, unwilling to miss the historic moment of a legendary figure's return.
Ritsushou's heartbeat quickened, his gaze fixed on the center of the circle as he spoke the final words: "…Cross the Wheel of Restraint and appear, Guardian of the Scales!"
A surge of dazzling white light tinged with gold burst forth, thick magical energy spreading in waves of white mist. A tall figure gradually took form within, emerging as if from the dust of history, carrying the air of ancient times.
Ritsushou observed him closely—the man was clearly dressed as a Heian-period military officer. He wore a tall eboshi cap, a hunting robe, and a tachi at his left hip, its scabbard carved with ancient patterns…
Ritsushou exhaled in relief—this had to be his ancestor.
At that moment, the man in the circle spoke, his deep voice tinged with a trace of nostalgia: "…So I have come to this era? Very well, I have no complaints. If it's demons you wish slain, I am more than suitable."
"Of course!" Ritsushou replied, his pride evident. In this land, none could match Minamoto no Raikō in demon slaying.
"You are my Master?" The man nodded slightly, scanning Ritsushou and then the stands. "Next should be the announcement of my true name and the forming of the contract. Is it all right for those in the stands to hear?"
"It's fine," Ritsushou waved dismissively, satisfied—after all, his ancestor's name was famous across the land.
"Very well," the man said with a nod. "I am Saber—Watanabe no Tsuna. With this, our contract is formed."
"Wha…!?"
Ritsushou's extended hand froze midair, his smile instantly stiffening. He never expected that instead of Minamoto no Raikō, he had summoned someone entirely different.
Tsuna seemed puzzled by his Master's reaction. "I am Watanabe no Tsuna, one of Raikō-dono's Four Heavenly Kings. I once used the Oni-slaying Blade to sever the arm of Shuten Dōji…"
"Wait!" Ritsushou interrupted urgently. He knew exactly who Watanabe no Tsuna was—but the problem was:
"I am the current head of the Minamoto clan, Ritsushou. I prepared ample relics—so why didn't I summon—"
Tsuna glanced at the familiar relics and instantly understood. His gaze held a trace of realization, though his voice remained calm:
"This is indeed strange. But from what I know, Raikō-dono would not refuse the summons of her descendants… unless you are not of Genji blood."
(End of Chapter)
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