Another sleepless night—though he had no need for sleep.
The task of conquering the yōkai weapons that followed was, without a doubt, far more complicated than Kōbe Hikaru had imagined.
The Thunder Horn, the reverse scale, the Nekomata's claw—though all three were of yōkai-weapon quality, the same as Sakagami Ketsura's comb, their natures were utterly different.
Sakagami Ketsura was a yōkai weapon, and more than that, a yōkai—a Tsukumogami possessed of self-awareness; even without the system, Kōbe Hikaru could have communicated with her.
These others, however, could not.
First was the Thunder Horn.
In life, the Thunder Beast had been a Qualitative-Transformation-grade yōkai that had mastered Thunder Metamorphosis, and this horn was the essence of all the thunder-power in its body.
After slaying the Thunder Beast, Kōbe Hikaru had already been able to rudimentarily mobilize the power within it, calling down lightning to strike Gakimaru, and then Dokukō and the Nekomata.
But that was merely using it—not owning it, and still less fusing with it.
Just as a man being able to swing a sword does not mean the sword is his, and still less means he can make the sword a part of his own body.
The power within the Thunder Horn was violent, primal, wild.
It did not reject Kōbe Hikaru—after all, its master was dead, and it had no reason to reject a new wielder.
But neither did it cater to him.
That thunder-power was like an untamed wild horse: one could mount it, could make it run, but at any moment it might throw its new rider off.
Kōbe Hikaru had tried pouring yōkai power directly into it to force a fusion.
The result—the electric arcs lashed back, and his arm was numb for the better part of a day.
This was not the Thunder Horn resisting; that power was simply like this by nature.
Thunder is never gentle, just as flame is never cold.
This was its essence.
[Thunder Beast's Horn: favourability 4]
Four points of favourability—still a long way from the thirty needed to unlock the first talent.
Kōbe Hikaru could only take it slow.
Each day he set aside time to seep his yōkai power slowly into the Thunder Horn, grinding it into harmony with that violent thunder-power.
This was not merely taming—it was adaptation.
Letting the thunder adapt to his yōkai power, and letting his yōkai power adapt to the thunder.
And then.
Chatting with it, talking to it.
Making this hot-tempered thing take on his own shape, until it could not do without him.
When dealing with a hot-tempered bro, wearing him down with soft persistence had always worked.
The process was slow and tedious, but it was a path that had to be walked.
…
Next was the Dokukō's reverse scale.
This thing was actually harder to handle than the Thunder Horn.
Because the Dokukō's power was, by its very nature, permeative.
That venomous energy was not violently outward like the thunder, but soft, sinister, and restrained—seeping into every crack.
The first time Kōbe Hikaru tried pouring in his yōkai power, he discovered this problem.
The reverse scale gave no reaction at all.
It meekly accepted his yōkai power, meekly letting that venomous power flow toward his arm.
It seemed to cooperate very well.
But Kōbe Hikaru soon sensed something was wrong.
That venom was not merely flowing toward his arm—it was quietly seeping deeper still: into his meridians, his blood, the core of his yōkai power.
It was not being absorbed by him; rather, it was trying to assimilate him.
This was the essence of poison.
Permeate, erode, assimilate.
It needed no consciousness to direct it.
Even Kōbe Hikaru—who was, in essence, still a corpse with a touch of vitality—had no choice but to use [Blood Mutation] to forcibly expel that venom from his body; otherwise he'd have no way to keep holding Kikyō as he slept at night.
Then he switched approaches—rather than letting the poison adapt to him, he used his own yōkai power to wrap, break down, and absorb that venom.
This was even more troublesome than dealing with the Thunder Horn.
The thunder was at least openly, honestly violent.
The venom, by contrast, was sinister, cunning permeation.
One slip and it would lash back at you.
[Dokukō's reverse scale: favourability 2]
Its favourability rose even more slowly than the Thunder Horn's.
Because every fusion had to be done with the utmost care, lest that venom turn guest into host and take over.
Kōbe Hikaru could only be all the more patient.
…
Last was the Nekomata's claw, the strangest of the three.
The Thunder Horn was violent, the reverse scale cunning.
And the Nekomata's claw?
It had nothing.
No resistance, no cooperation, no reaction whatsoever.
When Kōbe Hikaru poured his yōkai power into it, that power to control the dead would indeed flow out, but it flowed utterly passively—like turning on a faucet: the water comes out, not because the faucet wants it to, but because you turned it.
The Nekomata's claw didn't even have instinct.
It never had, from beginning to end.
A yōkai like the Nekomata was, in itself, a being that controlled corpses; its very existence was the manipulation of the dead, like a puppet.
A puppet needs no instinct.
And so the Nekomata's claw needed no instinct either.
It was simply a tool.
A pure tool, devoid of instinct.
[Nekomata's claw: favourability 1]
Only one point of favourability—but that single point was not because it rejected Kōbe Hikaru.
It was because it simply did not know what favour was.
The way to conquer this thing was utterly different from the first two.
Not taming, not grinding into harmony.
But—infusion.
Kōbe Hikaru needed to keep pouring his yōkai power into it ceaselessly, letting that withered claw gradually come to recognize his existence.
He didn't need to make it like him—only to make it grow used to him.
This process was equally slow, but at least there was no risk of backlash.
…
In the end, Kōbe Hikaru drew up a plan for himself.
Each morning he'd spend one shichen working on the Thunder Horn, feeling the rhythm of the thunder-power and letting his own yōkai power merge with it.
Then half a shichen on the reverse scale, wrapping the venom in blood-mist and breaking it down and absorbing it bit by bit, never greedily rushing for results.
Then, come afternoon, half a shichen on the Nekomata's claw, pouring his yōkai power into it to gradually brand that dead thing with his aura.
What did it mean to be a master of time management, juggling three boats at once?
Kōbe Hikaru figured that was exactly him.
But even so, at this pace, the Thunder Horn would still need at least a month to max out its favourability.
The reverse scale would need two months.
The Nekomata's claw would need close to three months.
Of course, this was only a theoretical estimate.
In practice it might be faster, or it might be slower.
It couldn't be rushed.
Kōbe Hikaru told himself.
In just over half a year since crossing into this world, he had grown from an oni warrior who had only just died once into one with all Six Mutations perfected.
This pace was already fast enough.
For a normal yōkai to reach this level would take at least decades, even a century or more.
What he had to do next was simply to advance steadily and surely.
To lay his foundations firm.
But Sakagami Ketsura had her own views on all this.
"You... you really are a greedy fellow."
The skull atop the red comb turned within Kōbe Hikaru's bosom, its tone disdainful.
"Thunder Beast, Dokukō, Nekomata... what's the point of fiddling with these fellows all day long?"
"Is that not allowed?"
"Of course it's not allowed!"
Sakagami Ketsura's voice brimmed with displeasure:
"Have you ever thought about my feelings?"
"What feelings of yours?"
"This young lady helped you so much!"
The skull seethed with indignation: "And now you spend all day fawning over those new flames, leaving me tossed aside!"
Kōbe Hikaru fell silent for a moment.
He very much wanted to say: your favourability is actually rising too.
But on second thought he held his tongue, to keep that favourability from dropping—though the odds of that were slim, admittedly.
"So what do you want, then?"
"I want out!"
Sakagami Ketsura fumed:
"How long have you kept me cooped up in here? I want to bask in the sun! I want to comb someone's hair! I want—"
"Enough."
Kōbe Hikaru cut her off: "When the time is ripe, I'll let you out to stretch a little."
Really?
"Really."
"Hmph... actually, it's not like I'm that excited about it..."
The skull gave a little turn and said no more.
But that subtle pose was, unmistakably, one of glee and anticipation.
[Sakagami Ketsura: favourability +1]
[Current favourability: 4]
Looking at this prompt, Kōbe Hikaru shook his head helplessly.
This girl really was a tsundere.
By day he worked on the yōkai weapons; by night he accompanied Kikyō to patrol the barrier and tend to all sorts of things.
These were, too, exceedingly rare days of leisure.
Now and then villagers would bring food, their eyes full of gratitude and awe.
Now and then Kaede would come running over to ask this and that, only to be sent back with a single word from Kikyō.
Calm and easeful.
After Kibōmaru had been driven back, yōkai still came to attack, but most were not after the Shikon Jewel; and even those that were came only as low-grade, muddle-headed lesser yōkai.
The high-grade ones, or those with a measure of reason, all seemed to understand that the two of them were not to be trifled with.
To want the Shikon Jewel, one had to be able to bear the price.
But Kōbe Hikaru understood all along that this calm would not last long.
Kibōmaru had only retreated for the time being.
The threat from Kyoto's side still remained.
And he—
was still not strong enough.
"Continue."
He gripped the Thunder Horn in his hand.
Purple arcs of electricity leapt between his fingers.
"Training—continue."
____
________________________________________
If you want more chapters, please consider supporting my page on (P). with 50 advanced chapters available on (P)
👻 Join the crew by searching Leanzin on (P). You know the spot! 😉