The night was deep. Kōbe Hikaru threaded his way through the mountain forest.
Spectral Step, cast again and again, his form like a phantom — or rather, he was a phantom to begin with, a ghost-samurai formed after death.
His pale long hair streamed in the wind, his grey robe snapping and flapping.
The red comb tucked against his chest was trembling.
"Hey."
Sakagami Ketsura's voice was muffled. "Are you sure you want to go alone?"
"I'm not alone."
Kōbe Hikaru did not turn his head, and repeated once more, "There's you, too."
Sakagami Ketsura was rendered speechless in an instant, but Kōbe Hikaru paid her no mind. Instead he suddenly spoke up, asking:
"Those four vanguards — what exactly are their origins?"
This, of course, was information he needed to understand beforehand.
Silence.
The skull atop the comb turned this way and that, as if pondering.
She did not hide anything, either.
"The one to the west is a Thunder Beast."
"A Thunder Beast?"
"Mm."
Sakagami Ketsura explained, "A very ancient yōkai. They say it descends from the bloodline of the Thunder God's familiar beast, fallen into corruption. It can command thunder and lightning, and is extremely fast."
Kōbe Hikaru's footsteps paused for a moment.
This Thunder Beast made him think of the so-called Thunder Beast brothers from the original story... was it connected to that?
And besides — the west.
That was the territory of the Imagawa clan.
The daimyō who ruled Suruga Province, a power currently at war with the Hōjō clan.
"Go on."
"To the north is the Venom Jiao."
Sakagami Ketsura's voice took on a touch of disgust. "An old serpent turned spirit, deadly poison throughout its whole body — it can corrode even the air itself."
"It hides within the Hōjō clan's sphere of influence. They say it has already poisoned the people of several villages to death."
Kōbe Hikaru nodded.
These two vanguards were positioned right on either side of the battlefield.
"And to the south?"
"A yōkai called Gakimaru."
Sakagami Ketsura's voice dropped lower still. "A giant moth-yōkai, able to release scale-powder that bewitches the mind."
"They say that anyone struck by its scale-powder falls into an eternal nightmare."
"And the last one? To the east?"
"A Nekomata."
Sakagami Ketsura spat out the word.
A Nekomata.
Kōbe Hikaru had an impression of that name.
A yōkai from Japanese legend, formed from an old cat that had cultivated itself into a spirit.
Its tail would split into two, hence the name Nekomata — "forked cat."
It was said it could control the corpses of the dead, making them move like puppets.
"Of these four, which is the strongest?"
"None is the strongest, but for me, the most troublesome is the Thunder Beast."
Sakagami Ketsura did not hesitate. "Though I'm no match for the other yōkai, I can still manage to flee from them. Only the Thunder Beast — its speed is too fast, fast enough that not even my hair can escape it."
Kōbe Hikaru's eyes narrowed.
A speed-type yōkai.
Rather troublesome.
"Then we'll start with it."
He changed direction, sweeping off toward the west.
He would go there, find it — and then, eliminate it.
To conquer the strong as the weak: so long as he laid his plans in advance, with the means he now possessed — stronger than a normal six-fold transformation — it was not impossible to pull off.
...
Meanwhile.
Suruga Province, the main castle of the Imagawa clan.
The tenshukaku; the honmaru-goten.
Imagawa Yoshimoto knelt at the seat of honor, before her a dozen or so sorcerers.
These sorcerers wore all manner of garments — some looked like onmyōji, some like monks, some like shrine maidens.
All were masters the Imagawa clan had engaged at great expense.
"So."
Imagawa Yoshimoto's voice was very calm, yet it carried a suppressed fury. "You investigated for three days, and the conclusion you finally reached is merely — that you don't know?"
The sorcerers exchanged glances.
At their head was an old man with white hair and beard, dressed in the garb of an onmyōji. He was said to be of the Kyoto Onmyōryō, only banished into exile, reduced against his will to serving as a retainer-priest for an outlying daimyō.
"In reply to the lord of the province..."
The old man wiped the sweat from his brow. "That bolt of lightning is indeed no ordinary celestial phenomenon — it contains within it a dense yōkai aura."
"But as to exactly what kind of yōkai it is, we..."
"Cannot determine it. Is that so?"
Imagawa Yoshimoto cut him off.
"Yes."
The old man lowered his head. "That thing comes and goes without a trace, and never shows itself."
"We set up a barrier, but it seems able to travel through the ground, utterly unaffected."
Imagawa Yoshimoto's fingers tapped against the armrest.
Traveling through the ground, coming and going without a trace, appearing each time accompanied by thunder and lightning.
"Have you no other methods?"
"This..."
The old man hesitated, and in the end could not help but speak. "If my lord could engage stronger sorcerers — such as the great onmyōji of the Kyoto Onmyōryō..."
Imagawa Yoshimoto gave a cold laugh.
"Kyoto?"
"I am in the midst of war with the Hōjō clan. Where would I find the time to go to Kyoto to recruit people?"
"By the time they were brought here, the castle would have been burned to the ground — were it not that Master Taigen Sessai happens to be away, what need would I have of you good-for-nothings?"
The old man buried his head lower still, and the other sorcerers were likewise hushed as cicadas in winter; to these words, they dared not offer the slightest rebuttal.
The very name of Taigen Sessai was enough to silence them into stillness.
Silence pervaded the great hall.
Imagawa Yoshimoto closed her eyes and rubbed her temples.
These past few days she had not slept well.
Every night she would dream that dream.
In the dream, lightning raged and the castle burned.
But there was also another figure.
A figure standing amid the lightning.
Pale long hair, crimson eyes.
A long blade in hand, cleaving the lightning apart.
If only she could find that figure... but the information was too scant — how was she to search?
Imagawa Yoshimoto was at a complete loss. She knew this could not go on.
"All of you, withdraw."
Imagawa Yoshimoto gave a wave of her long sleeve, the delicate, charming face beneath her black hair turning icy cold. "Continue to watch the movements of that lightning."
"If there is any disturbance, report it at once."
"Yes."
The sorcerers, as though granted a pardon, withdrew one after another.
Stillness returned to the great hall.
Imagawa Yoshimoto rose up from the tatami and walked toward the inner room.
That was her private space.
It was also —
the place where she stored her treasured sword.
Sōza Samonji.
It was a famed blade passed down through generations of the Imagawa clan. It was said to have once been the personal sword of the Ashikaga shogunal house two generations prior, before falling into the hands of an ancestor of the Imagawa clan, who shared a blood relation with the Ashikaga family.
It had been handed down within the Imagawa clan for several generations now, and was her most precious possession.
Imagawa Yoshimoto pushed open the door of the inner room.
And then —
her footsteps halted.
There was someone in the inner room.
The figure stood before the sword rack, his back to her.
A grey robe, pale long hair.
Shimmering with a cold light in the candle-glow.
That figure was facing the Sōza Samonji on the rack, murmuring something on and on.
"...how many years have you been here?"
"Bored?"
"Does your master talk to you?"
"Probably not, I'd think. Most of them don't understand this sort of thing."
Imagawa Yoshimoto was stunned.
This person — was talking to a sword?
And in that... chatty tone, no less?
She opened her mouth, meaning to call for help.
But the figure turned his head first, his crimson eyes meeting hers.
A pale face, well-formed features.
Young, handsome, with a cold, hard quality about him.
"Oh."
He spoke, his tone very casual. "So you're the master of this place?"
Imagawa Yoshimoto's hand was already pressed to the short blade at her waist.
Though she knew it was useless — a being that could infiltrate the tenshukaku without a sound or a trace was certainly not something she could deal with.
"What are you?"
Yoshimoto asked.
Her voice was calmer than she had imagined.
"Not a person."
The yōkai shook his head.
"I'm a yōkai."
He turned from the sword rack to face Imagawa Yoshimoto directly — gazing at her with those inhuman eyes.
The yōkai smiled.
That smile looked somewhat strange in the candlelight.
But Imagawa Yoshimoto was not afraid.
Instead, she was stunned.
Because this figure, this bearing —
it made her think of her dream.
Pale long hair, crimson eyes, and that long blade dancing amid the lightning —
"You are..."
"Kōbe Hikaru."
The yōkai announced his own name. "That thunderbolt over your castle — I've come to help you deal with it."
"However —"
His gaze fell upon the Sōza Samonji on the rack.
"Your castle, and this sword, must — be lent to me for a while."
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