The collisions continued. The dark crimson of Onikiri and the gold of Tessaiga alternated across the bone arms of the Shura Form. With every swing, the instant the blade's edge touched Tōga's illusory tachi, a faint sensation of devouring emanated from within Tessaiga.
The presence of the old master was being stripped away. Digested. Overwritten. The mark of the new master was deepening, taking root, seeping in.
The blade itself was shedding its shell, like a snake molting its skin. Transforming. The numbers on the panel continued to rise.
[Tessaiga: Affection 8 → 11 → 14—]
Tōga's blade grew faster and faster. A remnant soul required no stamina. It was not constrained by a physical body. His attacks had reached a level that was nearly miraculous, reverse-grip slashes weaving from left to right, reverse-cleaves rising from the ground, even void-thrusts that pierced directly through the gaps of the Shura Form's skeletal frame.
Every one of them was battle instinct accumulated over a lifetime. The true killing intent forged through centuries of conquest by a daiyōkai.
Shinji's four arms moved at full capacity. Onikiri guarded the left. Banryū anchored below. Yomi-giri sealed the right. Tessaiga held the center as the pivot. His Extreme Will was compressed to its absolute limit within this density of exchanges. All transformations. All power. Everything fused into his being was poured into every block and counterattack. Full. Overflowing.
The forty-seventh collision.
Tōga's illusory tachi slashed down from directly above the crown, aimed straight at the core of the Shura Form's chest. Tessaiga rose to meet it. The golden fang-blade and the gray-violet remnant blade clashed head-on.
This time, Tessaiga was not knocked back.
Instead, cracks spidered across the contact surface of the illusory tachi. Upon Tessaiga's cutting edge, the gray-violet traces of the old master had completely faded.
In their place, patterns of dark crimson and gold intertwined, weaving across the blade like warp and weft, forming an entirely new layer of demonic markings.
The pattern was beautiful. And ferocious.
Shinji could feel the pulse transmitted through his palm had changed. Tessaiga was no longer passively absorbing and converting. It was actively resonating with his Five Viscera and Three Souls.
The Affection jumped.
[Tessaiga: Affection 14 → 20]
"—!"
Tōga's remnant soul hovered in midair. His molten-gold eyes flew wide. He looked down at his illusory tachi, now shattered into several pieces. Then he looked up at the Tessaiga in Shinji's hand, whose transformation was now starkly evident.
That blade had become Shinji's blade. From the inside out. From soul to vessel.
Then, he burst into laughter.
"Good—GOOD, BOY!"
The silver-white light-dust scattered from his body at an accelerating rate. His arms, legs, and the outline of his armor were all growing indistinct, like a sand painting eroded by the wind.
This was the sign of his power running out.
The remnant soul had reached its limit. Every exchange had consumed what little power his Human Soul still held, and he had deliberately exhausted it. He had poured his final strength into the process of Tessaiga's metamorphosis, ensuring this blade was fully stamped with its new master's mark.
"Time's nearly up."
Tōga's smile faded. His molten-gold eyes became still once more. He drifted down beside the bone platform, silver-white light-dust trailing in his wake.
"The matter of the blade is settled."
He watched as Shinji withdrew the Shura Form and sheathed Tessaiga. A gray-robed youth, four blades at his waist, a greatsword across his back, faint bone-markings at his temples. He looked like a young warrior of fifteen or sixteen, standing within the belly of a daiyōkai's corpse that blotted out the very sky, his expression utterly composed.
"Next—"
Tōga's tone changed. All the carelessness from before had vanished, revealing the weariness of a father that had been hidden for centuries.
"There is something I wish to entrust to you."
"Entrust?"
"Mn. Entrust."
Tōga's remnant soul folded his arms, his semi-transparent fingers passed through his own forearm, but he paid it no mind, continuing to speak.
"That boy Sesshōmaru, his temper is foul, his standards are high, and he looks down on everyone. But his core is not evil. He simply stands too high, and has never once lowered his head to look at what lies beneath his feet.
"You've already beaten him once for me, that's enough. But he will likely seek trouble with you in the future, since Tessaiga is in your hands. When that time comes, don't go for the kill. After all, by your own account, that boy still owes you a favor. His words may be harsh, but he will not truly try to kill you either."
Shinji did not immediately respond. He naturally understood Sesshōmaru's twisted nature. Had he not, he would never have held back earlier.
"And Inuyasha, though that boy has become human, he is still my blood. A human body is far too fragile. Living in this world overrun by demons, he will inevitably face things he cannot endure alone. If possible, please look after him a little as well."
Tōga's voice grew softer and softer. The light-dust scattered faster and faster.
"I know these requests are unreasonable. You and I are neither teacher and student, nor even friends. We have only just met by chance. But you are the one Tessaiga has acknowledged. And you are the most extraordinary demon I have encountered in all these years."
The outline of the remnant soul was already turning transparent. Yet those molten-gold eyes, upon that fading face, still burned bright, like two lamps on the verge of extinguishing, yet desperately burning.
He still wanted to say more.
About that woman who was his wife in name only, who had sat for centuries within the celestial palace of the Kansai, holding neither substance nor affection. The debt he owed her was deeper than what he owed anyone. Everything brought by political marriage.
He had never given her love. Even his companionship had been pitifully scarce. He had given his heart to Izayoi. His strength to the battlefield. His relics to his two sons.
What he had left her was an empty title, and a son, obtained through special means to perfectly inherit the Western dog-demon bloodline, who also would never smile at her. It was a shackle upon her.
But those words, he could not speak them.
Some things, once dead, could never be said. What was not said in life, one had even less right to say after death.
He merely looked at this young demon with the crimson eyes, and smiled one last time.
"If it is possible—"
"When they are in danger.... just lend a hand."
Thus, the so-called Inu no Taishō had never truly been a man who could pick things up and put them down. Otherwise, he would never have responded to Shinji's Soul-Summoning, opening his eyes to see this world once more.
Shinji was silent for a few seconds. He watched the molten-gold light flicker once within the gray-violet space, like the very last ray of the setting sun.
And then, at the very end, Tōga seemed to recall something…
"And… Sō'unga… that ancient demon blade… I sealed it… at the other end of… the Bone-Eater's Well…"
The words drifted away.
Finally extinguished.
Tōga's Human Soul, the last remnant of the Western Lands' Inu no Taishō in this world, gazed upon the mortal realm one final time.
The abdominal cavity fell into silence. The gray-violet demonic mist still hung in the air, but its density had visibly thinned. With the remnant soul gone, even these scattered demonic energies began to dissipate at an accelerated pace.
Shinji stood beside the bone platform, looking down at the Tessaiga in his hand. The tattered outer sheath was faintly warm in his palm. That warmth did not feel like the searing heat of demonic energy. It felt more like lingering warmth. The residual warmth of a blade that no one had held for a very, very long time.
The golden ring within his crimson demon eyes turned once. He fastened Tessaiga back at his waist and turned toward the direction he had come from. The coordinates of the Black Pearl still flickered in his mind.
It was time to return.
As for Sō'unga's existence, he did not need Tōga to tell him where it was. He already knew. But the Bone-Eater's Well had not yet opened. And it was not yet time to deal with it.
At the same moment.
40,000 kms away.
High above the skies of the Kansai region, the sea of clouds churned like silver silk, gleaming with a cold blue luster beneath the moonlight. Above the clouds, a palace hung suspended in the void.
White jade formed its steps. Purple sandalwood formed its pillars. Bells hung from the eaves, chiming with an exceedingly fine, distant clarity in the high-altitude wind.
This was the main palace of the dog-demon clan. The residence of the legal wife of the great daiyōkai of the Western Lands, Tōga.
Within the deepest main hall of the palace, a figure sat upright upon the throne. Silver-white hair cascaded from the crown of her head, spilling over the entire cushion and the silk screen behind her. The strands shimmered in the candlelight like flowing moonlight.
Her face was breathtakingly beautiful. Her features were so exquisite they seemed beyond the mortal world, forming a countenance somewhat similar to Sesshōmaru's, yet with an added feminine softness and noble elegance.
A crescent moon of deep purple adorned her brow. Two deep blue demon markings traced her cheeks. Golden eyes. Golden slit-pupils nearly identical to Sesshōmaru's.
Only, there was an additional layer of world-weary detachment in her gaze, as though she had seen through everything.
She wore layer upon layer of white-and-purple finery. Silver-threaded dog-clan patterns were embroidered at the collar and cuffs. At her waist, a sash hung with a pitch-black circular gem, the Underworld Stone.
Ryōgetsu Senki.
The legal wife of the Inu no Taishō. Sesshōmaru's mother. The nominal mistress of the dog-demon clan.
Her fingers rested upon the armrest. Her long, pale fingertips lifted slightly.
Just moments ago, she had felt something vanish.
An exceedingly faint, nearly imperceptible fluctuation.
That fluctuation came from a far, far distant direction, from the other shore of the world, from the cleft between the underworld and the mortal realm.
She recognized that presence.
Though only the very last thread, the very last wisp remained, she recognized it.
"…He is gone, then."
The focus of her golden slit-pupils rested upon the churning sea of clouds beyond the hall. Her voice was cold and detached. There was only a trace, a small measure, of regret.
Toward that man who was her husband in name, she did not lack respect. In the eyes of others, they had been a model couple of mutual deference.
But it was only respect.
After a moment of silence, she felt another change.
The presence of Tessaiga.
That weapon, forged by Tōga from his own fang, yet left on the verge of death to that half-demon child.
Its presence had changed.
It was no longer Tōga's scent. It had become something utterly unfamiliar, an existence interwoven with the demonic energy of the Five Elements and the essence of a human soul.
Ryōgetsu Senki's golden slit-pupils paused.
That trace of world-weariness was, in that moment, replaced by curiosity.
Exceedingly brief curiosity.
"Interesting."
Having spoken that word, she resumed her usual unruffled composure. Her long, slender fingertips withdrew from the armrest and tucked into her wide sleeves.
The wind beyond the hall stirred the bells, producing a single, crystalline chime.