Amidst all this, for the villagers of Kaede's Village, life continued much as it always had. Planting. Drawing water. Going to market. The only difference was that their shrine had been elevated. More people came to worship now.
Every few days, one might see a traveling merchant who had come from far away slip a few copper coins into the offering box. This was only to be expected. By now, the petition the Hōjō clan had sent to Kyōto had long since been approved. Shinji had long since held a formal position within the Shintō hierarchy.
And for Kikyō and Shinji, this stretch of time was, in truth, the first time they had truly lived as "companions." Kikyō's Spiritualization Technique grew ever more refined. Wrapped in reiryoku, her body transformed into a body of light, her speed now truly matching, not merely approaching, Shinji's Lightning-Sinewed Body at its normal state.
She could keep up. And if she could keep up, they could go out. Even venture far afield. In the Kantō of today, in Musashi and the surrounding provinces, even with Shinji's Hyakki Yakō holding dominion, scattered yōkai encampments still stirred trouble.
Especially in the mountainous regions of western Sagami, where demonic entities occasionally crossed the borders. Though the Earth Barrier had once blanketed the three provinces, that single night of suppression had only targeted the demons connected to Kibutsuji Muzan. It had nothing to do with the rest.
These matters, a year ago, Kikyō had handled alone. Now, there were two. One demon. One miko. Joined hands to exterminate evil. Their efficiency was, naturally, astonishingly high. They would set out at dawn and return by afternoon.
Shinji would forge ahead, his Lightning-Sinewed Body clearing the path, his crimson demon eyes sweeping the mountain forests, his Keen-Eye Transformation capturing every anomaly in its field.
Kikyō would follow three paces behind and to the side, her figure in white and crimson streaking past the treetops through the Spiritualization Technique, like a white rainbow. Facing an ordinary yōkai, Shinji could resolve it in an instant with a single bone spur, or a bolt of lightning, or his blood-fire.
Facing a somewhat stronger yōkai, even a demon commander who had undergone Essence Transformation, all it took was Shinji trapping it for a single moment, and then Kikyō drawing her bow.
The spirit-cleansing arrow would howl forth, reiryoku condensing into a fist-sized sphere of light at the arrow's tip. Upon impact, ash. Though such yōkai were rare, they did exist. No verbal communication was needed. That tacit understanding had been honed to perfection through battle after battle.
Now, it only required a single glance. Sometimes, not even that. The yōki and reiryoku emanating from their respective bodies were themselves the signal.
The time spent outside of demon-slaying was, in turn, filled with small, warm moments.
On the journey back, Kikyō would stop by the stream to wash her hands. She would crouch beside the water, her sleeves rolled up to reveal a length of pale forearm. Her wrist would touch the icy stream, her expression focused. Her reiryoku would unconsciously seep into the water's surface.
The fish and shrimp in the stream, however, did not fear her. Instead, they would gather and circle around her fingers. Shinji would lean against a tree, arms folded, watching. "Even the fish like your reiryoku."
"Reiryoku is naturally close to life." Kikyō would shake the water from her hands and rise. Her gaze would pause on him for an instant. "As for you, even the fish swim around you."
It was true.
The small fish that swirled around her hand would scatter the moment they neared him. A yōkai's yōki naturally suppressed living creatures. Even though he had drawn in the vast majority of his yōki, the instincts of small animals still compelled them to keep their distance.
"Once I come alive, it'll be fine," Shinji said. Kikyō didn't reply. She simply walked to his side, her fingers naturally hooking into his palm. Naturally, their fingers intertwined. The two of them would slowly walk back along the course of the stream.
Such days stretched on for nearly a month.
[Banryū: Affection 44. First Talent 'Valor' Unlocked (When gripping the blade, base strength is doubled.)]
[Black Agate Pearl: Affection 31. First Talent 'Illusion-Breaking' Unlocked (When carrying the pearl, see through falsehoods. Pierce all illusions.)]
[Tahōtō Miko Prayer Beads: Affection 36. First Talent 'Curse Resistance' Unlocked (When carrying the beads, negate the majority of non-conceptual curses.)]
Three demon artifacts. Steadily climbing.
Beyond these, the Affection of the Shikon no Tama had also steadily risen over this stretch of time. The more at peace Kikyō was, the stronger the Naohi grew.
The stronger the Naohi, the more the Magatsuhi was suppressed. The overall state of the Shikon no Tama tilted ever further toward stability. And how at peace was Kikyō? One only had to look at her face, that face, calm to the point of near transcendence, as she knelt before the offering table each night, chanting sutras.
One only had to see the quiet joy on her face every day, whenever her skin brushed against Shinji's. That heavy weight of solitude she had once carried, had all but vanished. She had found a place to belong. She had found roots. She had found someone to whom she could entrust her back.
[Shikon no Tama: Affection: 90.]
Ninety. Already so very close to the maximum. Shinji looked at the number on the panel. He knew those final ten points of Affection would likely not climb as smoothly as the ones before.
The closer to the peak, the deeper the "acknowledgment" required. Even more so for a divine artifact like the Shikon no Tama. But it didn't matter. It was only a matter of time.
After all, Kikyō was at his side.
At night. Shinji sat beneath the eaves in front of the shrine hall. Kikyō leaned beside him. They leaned against one another without the slightest gap between them, gazing up together at the night sky.
Below, Momiji and Botan swept the fallen leaves from the shrine grounds with their brooms, sneaking glances at the pair above. …A man and a woman? A demon and a human? A god and a miko? It sounded strange, but looked remarkably harmonious.
Their chattering whispers, meant to be hushed, were in fact perfectly audible to both Shinji and Kikyō,leaving them both speechless, yet deeply amused.
The lights of the village flickered in the distance. The paths between the fields stretched in their quiet crisscross. This stretch of time was also an exceedingly rare moment when the Kantō region was free of large-scale warfare. A season of peace.
And yet. Peace always has its end. It was at this very moment, this very instant, that a tremor of osore came from Shinji's waist. A long-distance transmission between the hundred demons, routed through the tanuki as the nexus. It had arrived. Very urgent.
Shinji frowned. He picked up a bowl of clear water. Ripples spread across its surface. He let the ripples serve as a vessel for osore, manifesting the image from the other end.
The face of the Chief Administrator of the Twenty-Three Demons, Tanuki Jūsaburō, appeared within. His voice carried a rare, sharp panic.
"Master! Urgent report from Suruga! The Grand Administrator of the Imagawa clan, Taigen Sessai… is dead."
The voice broke there.
Dead. Taigen Sessai, the de facto Administrator of Suruga's government. The strategist of the Imagawa clan. The woman the world called the Black-Robed Chancellor.
That woman in the white monastic robes. The one who had waited for him for three days in the shrine atop the tenshukaku
. The one who, with nothing but a human mind, had calculated the precise moment he would borrow the blade and return it. She had said it herself, her life was nearing its end. Perhaps less than a year. Now, her allotted span had reached its limit.
Shinji closed his eyes. In his mind surfaced the final words that woman had spoken to him. You need not wage wars for her. You need not govern a province for her. Only, in the most perilous moment, pull her back.
Her. Imagawa Yoshimoto.
And that most perilous moment, there was no need to even think. It was Imagawa Yoshimoto's fated destiny. The battle that history recorded as one of the rare victories of the few against the many in the Warring States of this island realm.
The Battle of Okehazama. He opened his eyes. His crimson demon eyes flickered in the dim lamplight. Taigen Sessai's prophecy. And the charge she had entrusted to him. The time was drawing near.
Far beyond this place, thousands of kilometers away, at the very heart of the realm.
Kyōto. The Onmyōryō.
Late at night, the Bureau of Divination should have been steeped in silence. But tonight was different. The divination disk, etched with the pentagram array, began to rotate on its own, untouched by any hand.
The onmyōji on night duty had just lifted his tea bowl, and dropped it to the floor in sheer terror.
"The celestial alignments… have shifted!"
Footsteps exploded through the corridors. Paper doors were thrown open one after another. Lamps flared to life in rapid succession.
The entire Onmyōryō was thrown into chaos. An anomaly in the divination disk meant that the great currents of the realm were undergoing a violent deviation.
Some existence, capable of shaking the very structure of the world, was rising. Or some order, once stable, was crumbling. But no one could read the specific direction.
The light of the pentagram array flickered erratically, as though being interfered with by some unknown power.
"Where is the Head of the Onmyōryō, Lord Tsuchimikado?! What? He's not here?!"
"Then hurry! Summon the Assistant Head of the Onmyōryō, Lord Kekka-in, immediately!"
And beneath the chaos of the Onmyōryō, even deeper. The underground depths of Kyōto.
Within the cavernous palace where Hagoromo Gitsune lay dormant, the air suddenly turned cold. The great yōkai who had coiled beneath Kyōto for centuries opened a single eye. A slit pupil. Gold. She had sensed something. Not the commotion from the Onmyōryō on the surface.
That level of disturbance, in her eyes, was no different from ants relocating their nest. It came from somewhere far more distant. An exceedingly faint ripple, as though carried across countless layered veils.
The child within her womb, Nue, had stirred. As if sensing her recent vexation and impatience, the residual will that dwelled within had crossed the boundary between life and death and extended its tendrils toward the mortal realm.
Hagoromo Gitsune's slit pupil contracted faintly. She did not move. She did not even fully open her second eye. Only the tail coiled within the darkness swept lightly across the ground. The stirred dust drifted slowly down through the air.
In the depths of the lair, the dormant yōkai sensed the fluctuation of their master's presence. One by one, they lifted their heads from the shadows. Crimson eyes. Amber pupils. Ghostly green. Dark violet. Countless eyes blazed to life in the darkness, then extinguished just as quickly.
A stirring. A suppressed, silent stirring. No one dared make a sound. Hagoromo Gitsune paid them no mind. She merely closed her eye once more. But the corner of her mouth curved upward. Exceedingly faint. A smile of indeterminate meaning.
"…Is my child… reaching up from hell to lend his mother a hand?" Lately, Hagoromo Gitsune had indeed been deeply vexed. The ceaseless warfare in the Kantō had ceased, there were even signs of unification.
Word had also come that two new yōkai factions had risen in the Kansai region, one of them, it was said, was a boundary-demon of illusory reflections. They competed with one another, yet jointly reined in the once-chaotic hordes of demons.
The volume of accumulated grudges had dwindled drastically. She had been forced to devour even more human livers from Kyōto, and even in this, with the loss of a certain tool, the pace had slowed considerably.
That tool, of course, was that peculiar little demon under Kidōmaru's command… Yes. Hagoromo Gitsune had always known exactly what that creature was. She simply hadn't cared.
But compared to the stirring she had just felt, all of that was beneath notice. A smile of profound bliss spread across her face. A bliss so deep that she even forgot to swallow the human liver still resting against her lips.
Her voice fell into the vast, empty depths of the underground. There was no echo. Above Kyōto, the lamps of the Onmyōryō still flickered and swayed. Below Kyōto, the eyes of the demons still flared and faded.