Chapter 142: The Daily Life of Hikaru and Kikyo
The murky clouds that had choked the sky began to slowly dissipate. After losing Tsuchigumo as its core, the gray-white Yao Qi scattered, torn apart by the natural currents of the air. Piece by piece, the oppressive miasma broke, allowing the afternoon sunlight to once again grace the earth.
But the land itself had not yet recovered.
Within a radius of several hundred paces, the ground had been petrified into a hard, gray-white shell. The lingering traces of Tsuchigumo's demonic energy remained trapped between the shattered rock layers, a venomous stain upon the landscape. Pits scarred the terrain—deep craters from heavy landings, shallow depressions blasted by powerful punches, and fragmented hollows torn open by explosive leaps.
Kikyo stood to the side, her longbow already lowered. The wind had loosened her white hair ribbon, and stray strands, now stained with dust, clung to her temples. The ordeal had left her delicate and beautiful face etched with a deep weariness. Her spiritual power remained full, a deep and placid well, but her physical stamina had been all but drained.
Nearby, Hikaru propped himself up against a jagged rock and pushed himself to his feet, his body still protesting with a deep-seated weakness. The Yao Qi that had undergone a qualitative transformation was utterly depleted. Fortunately, it was already replenishing at a rate visible to the naked eye, a proof of the frightening resilience of a demon's constitution. In terms of sheer stamina, they far surpassed any mortal human.
He stretched, and a series of sharp pops and cracks echoed from his joints. Turning, his gaze fell upon the distant outline of Kaede Village. The protective barrier still shimmered with a soft, steady light, and through it, he could make out the silhouette of the torii gate and the sloping roof of the shrine.
Behind one of the gate's thick pillars, two small heads were peeking out. One belonged to Momiji, clad in the red-and-white robes of a shrine maiden; the other was Botan, dressed in blue and white. The two girls were huddled together, revealing only half of their faces, their large eyes wide with a mixture of terror and awe. They had witnessed the entire devastating battle from their post.
Though they had been unable to help, the bobbing of their heads had perfectly mirrored the battle's ebb and flow. They had shrunk back when Tsuchigumo held the upper hand, cautiously peeked out when Hikaru launched a counterattack, and narrowed their view to a single, terrified eye when the two combatants were locked in a furious stalemate.
Now, seeing that the great yokai had finally vanished, the two heads emerged completely.
"I-is it over?" Botan's voice, thin and trembling, carried across the several hundred paces separating them.
"It is over," Kikyo replied, her tone as cool and clear as ever.
"Wow, that's great—" With a relieved sob, Botan's legs gave out, and she plopped down onto the steps of the torii gate with a soft thud. A flurry of paper charms scattered around her. Momiji didn't collapse, but she braced her hands on her knees, head lowered, gasping for breath. Even with the barrier separating them, the oppressive demonic aura of the great yokai had darkened the sky and nearly frightened them into fainting.
Meanwhile, inside the main hall of the shrine, Naoe Kanetsugu was still tied to a pillar.
From beginning to end.
Through the great battle of Tsuchigumo's arrival, the advance and retreat of the Uesugi army, and the shattering of the sacred statue—no one had thought of her. Not a single person. From start to finish, not one soul had entertained the notion of untying her ropes.
Naoe Kanetsugu leaned against the pillar, the expression on her face having cycled through initial resentment, desperate struggle, helpless resignation, and numb acceptance, finally settling into a state of complex calm.
She had heard the sound of her lord's 'nirvana'.
She had heard the cacophony of the battle outside.
She had even heard the fading roars of Tsuchigumo as it was driven away, its voice vanishing into the wind.
No one came to save her.
The cloth gag in her mouth had loosened enough that she could spit it out herself. But she hadn't, because what was the point? The rope binding her was brutally sturdy; she had struggled all night and failed to break free.
Naoe Kanetsugu closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Her lord had 'left'. Her personal guards had also left, without so much as a backward glance. Although she knew her lord had likely pre-planned her own method of escape, that knowledge did nothing to soothe her current mood.
It was bad. Very bad.
She opened her eyes. With a bit of effort, she finally worked the cloth gag from her mouth and spat it onto the floor.
"Hello? Is anyone there?" she shouted toward the entrance of the main hall.
No one answered.
"...Hey!"
Still no answer. Outside, she could only hear the voices of Momiji and Botan, and—
"Sister Kikyo! Brother Hikaru! Have some fruit!"
A little girl with twin tails, Kaede, ran out of the shrine holding a plate of freshly cut fruit. She was smiling so widely her eyes were hidden, completely oblivious to the life-or-death struggle that had just concluded.
Naoe Kanetsugu watched the small figure dash past the entrance, the corner of her mouth twitching. She was now seriously contemplating a very important question: just how long was she going to be tied to this pillar?
And yet, for some reason, when she recalled the fleeting glimpse she'd had of her lord at the moment of 'nirvana', Naoe Kanetsugu suddenly felt that this outcome… perhaps wasn't so bad after all.
'The expression on my lord's face at that time,' she mused, 'I've never seen it before.'
Shame. Annoyance. And also, inexplicably… happiness?
Hmm… a bit strange, isn't it?
"It seems it's over."
Meanwhile, in Musashi Province, on the border of Sagami and Kai, the rulers of the two provinces stood side by side. Takeda Shingen, a fit young woman with long, crimson hair cascading down her back, stood on a mountain peak, gazing at the distant, devastating changes in the heavens. With her perception as the worldly incarnation of Fudo Myo-o, she could sense the monumental events that had transpired.
Her interest was thoroughly piqued. That 'Demon God' Hikaru… and that priestess, Kikyo.
"To see through Uesugi Kenshin's plans, turn the tables to set a trap for her, defeat three thousand of her elite troops in one fell swoop, wound her without killing, and even behead her once, forcing that incarnation of Bishamonten to undergo a reincarnation… This is truly no simple matter."
When it came to marching armies or direct confrontation, Takeda Shingen was confident she would never lose to Uesugi Kenshin. But in matters of pure strategy, she knew she was no match for the God of War. The title was not to be taken lightly.
But this Hikaru…
"I heard he has formed an alliance with Imagawa Yoshimoto?" she mused aloud. "First Taigen Sessai, and now a Demon God, Hikaru… It looks like the rise of the Imagawa clan is truly unstoppable."
Her philosophy was that of Fudo Myo-o: remain unmoving to meet all changes. Faced with an unstoppable momentum, Takeda Shingen would not be foolish enough to try and block it.
Beside her, Hojo Ujiyasu remained silent, but her gaze burned with a fierce intensity. "That is, after all, Musashi Province," she said, her voice tight with possessiveness. "Under the command of my Hojo clan. Imagawa might not necessarily be able to hold onto him."
"Hahaha!" Takeda Shingen laughed, a deep, hearty sound. The tightly wrapped fabric across her chest swayed heroically in the wind, seeming to create more waves than the distant mountains. The sight made Hojo Ujiyasu grit her teeth in annoyance.
Both were incarnations of gods and buddhas, but 'Fudo Myo-o' Takeda Shingen was undoubtedly more human—bold, unconstrained by petty details, and unwilling to scheme against the hearts of others.
Still, Takeda Shingen had a feeling. After this reincarnation, Uesugi Kenshin… perhaps she would be different.
"A god whose golden body has been broken," she murmured, a flicker of something knowing in her eyes. "There should always be something different about them."
Just like… myself.
Echigo Province. Kasugayama Castle.
Inside the castle keep, within the secret chamber where the statue of Bishamonten was enshrined, the flame of the eternal lamp flickered in a sudden breeze.
When the door was pushed open, Aya-gozen saw a familiar back. Blue robes, silver armor, dark hair draped over her shoulders. She sat on a cushion before the altar, her posture perfectly upright, as if she had been sitting there for a long time.
"My Lord! When did you—" Aya-gozen hurried forward, her voice filled with the raw urgency of someone who had just survived a catastrophe.
Uesugi Kenshin turned her head.
She smiled.
Aya-gozen's footsteps halted. It wasn't because there was anything wrong with the smile. On the contrary—it was too right. Everything was right. The face, the voice, the posture, the temperament… even the precise curve of her lips was exactly the same.
But Aya-gozen couldn't shake the feeling that something was different. It was like listening to the same piece of music played by a different person. The pitch hadn't changed, the tempo was identical, and the melody was untouched. Yet the weight of the fingering, the intervals between breaths, the hesitation or decisiveness in the split second of a keystroke—there was an extremely subtle deviation. So subtle that she felt it might be an illusion.
"The Imagawa clan's troops to the south have already advanced to within twenty miles of the castle, My Lord, you—"
"I know." Kenshin stood up, her tone as calm as ever. "Rest assured, Sister. I will handle it."
She walked to the door of the secret chamber. As she passed Aya-gozen, she reached out and gently patted her shoulder.
Aya-gozen froze, slightly stunned. Her Lord had never… done such a thing before. But she didn't dwell on it. The war was urgent; there was no room for overthinking.
Kenshin walked out of the chamber, took two steps, then stopped. She turned back to look at a bronze mirror hanging on the wall.
Her own face was reflected within. Indigo hair, dark pupils, soft features, and a faint, serene curve at the corners of her mouth. But for a fleeting moment, in the dim depths of the bronze, another shadow superimposed itself over her face.
Silver-white hair, golden eyes as deep as an ancient well, a face as indifferent as a Buddha statue but with something more… something else added to it.
He… was still there.
The two faces overlapped for an instant before the silver-white shadow faded away, like the moon being obscured by the clouds of the mortal world.
The new Kenshin looked at the face that remained in the mirror and was silent for a moment.
"The mistakes you made, predecessor, I will make up for them," she spoke softly. "To make up for our mistakes to the benefactor who helped us achieve final enlightenment, and also… to repay his kindness."
It was unclear who she was speaking to. But in that instant, thinking of the blurry figure from her predecessor's residual impressions, and of the insights he had left behind, she felt her heart beat just a little faster.
She turned and walked into the morning light.
Outside the door, the world was vast. Beyond Kasugayama Castle, the Imagawa forces, having long since received the 'message' from Hikaru, had already retreated into the sea, carrying their spoils of war with them.
People, wealth, fame, and trust—all were lost. This time, the Uesugi clan had suffered a devastating blow.
"An Echigo Province not sustained by gods…" the new Kenshin whispered to the wind. "Perhaps… that is a better kingdom."
That evening, in Musashi Province's Kaede Village, the faint light of the barrier seemed softer than usual as it enveloped the entire village in its protective embrace. Momiji and Botan had put Kaede to sleep early, and the light in the side hall was extinguished very quickly.
The paper door of the main hall slid shut.
Outside, the mountain stream behind the shrine swelled. Spring water flowed down along the narrow rock crevices, dripping between two adjacent pebbles. The stone surface, polished smooth and warm by the flowing water, glistened. The stream clung to the curve, sliding over the top of the stone and overflowing into the place where the two rocks joined. It slowly spilled out, then flowed back again, repeatedly soaking the crevice.
The grass on the bank nestled against each other in the night wind, stems pressed close, leaves intertwined, their spiked heads rising and falling with each gust.
The sound of the stream gradually quickened. The water surged, one wave tighter than the next. The pebbles were repeatedly covered and then exposed, the water on their surfaces flashing on and off under the moonlight.
Finally—the water overflowed the narrowest point between the two stones.
The wind stopped. The grass stilled. All things fell briefly silent.
And then, a deep stillness returned. The stream went back to a trickle, and the blades of grass drooped separately once more.
The light in the main hall was extinguished a long time later. Hikaru and Kikyo had spent another day of their daily life together—one that stopped at the final threshold, but where everything else had been tried.
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