Beneath the shade of the Sacred Tree, dappled light and shadow scattered across the ground. A gentle breeze drifted past. A moment later, the two figures slowly drew apart.
Kikyō released her grip. She stepped back half a pace and tilted her head slightly aside. The flush from her ears to her neck had yet to fully recede, but her expression had already regained its usual calm, composed miko demeanor. As though the one who had initiated that kiss moments ago had not been her at all.
Shinji leaned against the rough bark of the Sacred Tree. His crimson demon eyes reflected the miko bathed in morning light. Her black hair cascaded down beside her. Her white uwagi and crimson hakama were immaculate. The sash was cinched at the narrowest point of her waist, tracing the slender curve of her figure with sharp clarity.
She was beautiful. He had known that from the very first day he met her. But now, that beauty held an additional layer of something different, tinged with the weariness of a sleepless night, yet filled to the brim by the steadiness of reunion.
Kikyō, however, did not continue looking at him. She merely tilted her head slightly and gazed past him, toward the rising sun in the distance. "You were gone for a month," she said.
Shinji nodded. "Mn." By full count, it had indeed been nearly a month.
"You sent thirty-three messages while you were away." At least one every day. "But before that final signal last night, I didn't even know what you were about to face."
Kikyō looked at the demon warrior youth before her. Her words paused. On the surface, she seemed utterly unruffled. But Shinji could feel it, the discontent within the miko's heart.
Yet at this moment, he had thoroughly grasped a fundamental principle. Meet all changes with unwavering stillness. "Mn," he nodded again.
"What are you 'Mn'-ing about?" Kikyō turned her head. Her cool, clear eyes finally met his gaze directly. There was no visible dissatisfaction in those eyes. No aggrieved grievance. Only an exceedingly faint emotion, pressed down to the deepest stratum. Like a lake sealed beneath winter ice. Calm on the surface. But flowing, unceasingly, beneath.
"I was, in truth, very unhappy," she said. "I wanted to wait until you returned, and ask you clearly."
"And then?"
"I saw you." Kikyō lowered her eyes. "And let it go."
She spoke those three words as lightly as brushing a fallen leaf from one's sleeve. A month of waiting. An entire night of maintaining the barrier. All the unease and worry, wiped clean in those four syllables.
Shinji looked at her. He knew the miko before him was, in truth, deeply traditional. Deeply restrained. No matter how fiercely her heart churned within, her surface would forever remain that cool, unruffled mask of composure.
But by now, Shinji had long since learned to read the truth through those faint, hairline cracks. He was just about to speak, when Kikyō suddenly opened her mouth again. "However."
"There won't be a next time."
She spoke the sentence with absolute, devastating calm. So calm that Shinji blinked. It was not a tone of threat. Nor could it possibly be the tone of coy complaint. It was confidence. The confidence of a goal already achieved. A fact already established.
"The next time you go out, I'm coming with you."
As her words fell, Kikyō moved. Not running. No visible stride. The figure in white and crimson simply blurred within the morning light.
Shinji could see it, the miko's entire body had been enveloped by an exceedingly thin, nearly transparent membrane of reiryoku light. And then, in the span of a single instant, she appeared 30 metres away.
In that split second, Shinji saw it with perfect clarity. This was different from the spatial transference Kikyō had used before. It was pure movement. Extremely high-speed movement, with an intermediate process, a motion from here to there.
She had wrapped herself in reiryoku and transformed into a beam of light that streaked across the ground. The speed was so great that it nearly approached Shinji's Lightning-Sinewed Body at its normal state.
Kikyō stood upon the stone path 30 metres away. The hems of her white uwagi and crimson hakama drifted gently down after the air currents dissipated.
She turned and faced Shinji. Her expression was as cold and clear as ever. "Spiritualization Technique," she said. "Encasing the entire body in reiryoku. Temporarily transforming into a spirit-body state to move. Self-created. Same as the Spatial Transference Technique, the Compound Barrier Technique, and the Earth Barrier before, all were developed through my own contemplation."
As she spoke these words, her tone was the same as always. But within those cool, clear eyes, there was hidden, unmistakably, a deeply concealed pride. A touch of almost childlike satisfaction.
She had spent a month on this. During that month he had been away, she had not simply waited. She had trained. Trained a method of movement that could catch up to him. Trained a spell that would allow her to travel beside him. All for this single sentence, spoken upon his return.
There won't be a next time.
The miko was traditional and restrained. Yet she had never hidden the truest desires and thoughts of her heart. She did not want to wait. She wanted to walk alongside the one before her eyes. Not watch him rush off, to face alone the enemies they should have faced together.
Shinji stood beneath the Sacred Tree, his crimson demon eyes fixed upon the miko 30 metres away. He was silent for a few seconds. And once again, he had the same thought he'd had so many times before.
As expected of the strongest miko of the Warring States.
That title had never been an empty name. Perhaps the sheer volume of her reiryoku was inborn. But her talent and creativity in wielding it, that was acquired. And in this regard, Kikyō was truly astonishing. Spatial Transference. Multi-layered Compound Barriers. Reiryoku Lens. Earth Barrier. Mastery over the operation of faith-power in an impossibly short time. And now this Spiritualization Technique.
Every single one, self-comprehended. Self-created. Had she not been born in this remote, rural countryside shrine, had she not lacked the guidance of a master or a systematic legacy, Kikyō would not merely be the miko with the strongest reiryoku of the Warring States.
She would have directly become the strongest human of the Warring States. She would have been no lesser than Midoriko, who had, in her era, single-handedly exorcised countless yōkai, even many daiyōkai.
Shinji walked over. Step by step. Until he stood before her. The miko did not move. She merely lifted her eyes and looked at him. The cool clarity of those eyes seemed especially translucent in the morning light, like a mountain spring. Like winter snow. So pure they held no trace of impurity.
Then, she lifted her brows. Closed her eyes. And tilted her face upward, ever so slightly. The motion was tiny. But its meaning was unmistakably clear.
Shinji fell silent. He understood exactly what Kikyō meant. Yet he couldn't help but grumble. "Didn't we just—"
"That was me. Taking the initiative." Kikyō didn't open her eyes. Her voice was faint. "Now… is different."
"…What's different about it?"
"Figure it out yourself."
Shinji gazed at the face before him, eyes closed, tilted ever so slightly upward, that cold, refined countenance so reserved to the very marrow, yet, in this moment, so startlingly forthright. He didn't need to figure it out. He already understood exactly what she meant.
Before, had been her discontent. Now, she wanted his response. These were, indeed, two entirely separate matters. To this, though Shinji was speechless, he had no intention of refusing. After all, this was something he wanted more than anything.
He leaned down. This time, it was lighter than before. Slower. Kikyō's lashes trembled. Her fingers quietly clutched at his sleeve.
In the distance, Momiji and Botan were crouched behind a pillar of the corridor, their hands clamped over each other's mouths, their eyes stretched perfectly round.
Botan whispered, "It's happening again… Sister Momiji, shouldn't we go back now…"
Momiji replied with her mouth, "Yes, yes, we're leaving, we're leaving," but her feet didn't budge an inch.
Naoe Kanetsugu had turned her head to the other side, yet her ears twitched faintly. Kaede was sprawled across the steps, fast asleep, drool already pooling beneath her cheek.