The gray-blue vortex bloomed from the ceiling of the side chamber. The instant the gate of light split open, a dense aura of underworld death-energy surged into the air but it was largely absorbed by the barrier patterns pre-arranged upon the tatami. Only the faintest gray dust drifted down, like half a silent snowfall of ash.
Shinji stepped out from the gate of light. His gray robes were intact. All four blades were in place. At his waist, there was now one more blade than when he had left, a blade so tattered and worn it defied belief. Tessaiga had reverted to that appearance even a scavenger would disdain, hanging obediently beside Yomi-giri on his right hip.
The gate of light contracted and dispersed behind him. The last trace of the underworld's aura was swallowed by the barrier. The Black Pearl fell from the air back onto the tatami, producing an exceedingly soft, muffled sound. The luster upon its surface was somewhat dimmer than before departure, yet the depth of the condensed night sky within had deepened.
Having been used once, it had instead accumulated the energy of the underworld, like a sated pupil, slowly blinking once.
Shinji bent down and picked it up. The instant his fingertip touched the surface of the bead, a fine chill crept up his finger bones, as though the lingering memory of the underworld was testing his body heat. He paused, then tucked it into his robes, producing one final, nearly inaudible click.
The candles in the side chamber were still burning. He swept a glance over them, the length consumed translated to roughly a day and a half. Faster than expected.
Kikyō, naturally, was no longer in the side chamber.
He pushed open the sliding door and stepped out.
Morning light spilled from the east, falling upon the upturned eaves of the shrine's main hall, making the vermillion lacquer gleam with particular brilliance. The bells hanging from the corners swayed gently in the wind. The canopy of the Sacred Tree rustled in the breeze. Countless shards of golden light filtered through the emerald leaves, scattering across the stone-paved path of the courtyard.
A very ordinary morning.
He walked along the corridor toward the main hall for a few steps.
Then he stopped.
Because Kikyō was standing at the other end of the corridor.
White uwagi. Crimson hakama. Her longbow was slung across her back, the bowstring gleaming in the morning light. Her black hair was simply half-bound behind her head, the rest spilling over her shoulders, with a few strands clinging to her cheeks. It seemed freshly washed, the ends still held a trace of dampness, turning the white fabric on her shoulders faintly translucent in patches.
No particular emotion could be read upon her cool, clear features.
But the moment her gaze fell upon him, it stopped.
It swept across his face, confirming he was unharmed. It swept across his waist…
Hm, one more old blade?
Though it was very old, this must be that Tessaiga he had mentioned before.
It swept across the ring finger of his right hand, the red thread was still there.
Then Kikyō walked toward him.
Her pace was neither hurried nor slow, just as usual.
She stopped before him.
"You're back."
"Mn."
"A day and a half."
"Faster than expected."
Kikyō gave a single Mn.
She raised her right hand. Index and middle fingers pressed together, and with a light hook in the air, the red thread wound around his ring finger emitted an exceedingly faint glow of reiryoku, then loosened on its own and drifted into Kikyō's palm.
She tucked the thread, now saturated with Shinji's presence, into her sleeve.
After doing this, Kikyō looked at him for two more seconds.
Then she directly raised her hands, pressing against his shoulders, rising onto her toes.
The angle of her lips meeting his was very precise, landing just to the left of the corner of his mouth. It carried the lingering taste of rouge and the coolness of morning dew. She bit down lightly, only releasing after a long moment.
The corner of her lips curved faintly, as though finally satisfied.
"Are you hurt?" she asked.
"Not at all," Shinji replied.
"Did you encounter anything dangerous?"
"I did. But I won." He responded with great confidence.
Kikyō's dark pupils were especially translucent in the morning light, reflecting his face.
"Good. You're back. That's all that matters."
Having spoken, she turned and walked away.
Her steps were unhurried. The crimson hem of her miko hakama traced a small arc across the corridor.
But after one step, she stopped.
"Today, let's not go out."
She did not turn back.
"Why not?"
"Because I need to properly inspect you. To see if there are any wounds that aren't visible."
An excuse. A pure excuse.
Shinji watched her silhouette disappear behind the sliding door of the main hall. The corner of his mouth twitched. It was naturally impossible for him not to see through Kikyō's true intentions…
After all, he had been thinking the same thing himself.
It could only be described as natural, unspoken understanding, perfect coordination.
Shinji then unfastened the newly acquired Tessaiga from his waist. He couldn't bring four blades inside. Far too cumbersome.
He placed Onikiri, Yomi-giri, Banryū, and Tessaiga one by one upon the rack outside the corridor.
Then he pushed open the door and entered the bedchamber behind the main hall.
Kikyō was already inside.
Her longbow was leaned against the wall. The sash of her white robe was being untied by her own hands,
Her damp black hair spilled over her bare shoulders and collarbones. Water droplets dripped from the ends of her hair, rolling downward and vanishing into the shadows.
She half-turned to look at him.
Within her dark pupils, there was not the slightest trace of shyness. Only the utterly natural.
Her crimson lips curved into a smile. She had clearly already applied her rouge, vivid and moist, exceedingly lovely.
It was the kind of beauty he would never tire of, no matter how many times he saw it.
The most beautiful in all the world.
Shinji watched for a long moment.
Then he slowly stepped back and closed the sliding door behind him.
And as Shinji looked at her, Kikyō was also looking at him.
At him, just as beautiful in her eyes.
Then, her right hand rose.
Reiryoku seeped from her fingertips. A soundproof barrier silently spread across the four walls.
Concealing. Isolating.
Nothing could pass through.
She walked over. Both hands pressed against his chest. Her palms rested directly over his heart.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
"Heart rate normal," Kikyō said.
"Does this really count as an inspection?"
"It does."
Her hand slid upward from his chest and gripped the collar of his gray robe.
"So slow… what are you dawdling for?"
"Don't speak. Just like this."
What followed developed naturally, beyond the need for words.
Mount Fuji.
Located at the border of Suruga Province and Kai, the terrain stretched endlessly, and the great peak rose from the earth, the tallest, most distant mountain in all the realm.
From afar, it looked like an overturned jade bowl. In winter, the pristine snow only made it seem more like the dwelling place of a god. It was also the largest active volcano within this island realm.
But what no one knew, was that within the depths of this mountain… there existed a domain that ordinary mortals could never reach.
Like a celestial palace.
And at this moment, within a palace that had existed for countless years, candles burned eternally, illuminating the coral and white jade of the surrounding walls, staining everything in a cold, golden light.
At the very center of the palace, a luminous mirror floated in midair. Its surface was like a frozen lake, reflecting the figure of its wielder.
Black hair cascaded loose. A face of breathtaking, cold beauty, features that did not belong to the mortal world, enshrouded by layer upon layer of deep purple garments.
Her name was…
Kaguya.
In appearance, a celestial maiden. In form, a celestial maiden. In substance, she was indeed a celestial maiden, yet even more, she was a demon that had devoured the body of the true celestial maiden, seizing her name and her power.
She had no name of her own, because she had never been remembered by the ghost stories of humanity. The seal within Mount Fuji had utterly separated her from the outside world for centuries.
But it was not that she could not walk out.
It was that she had chosen to remain hidden.
Because of Mount Hakurei.
That colossal barrier, which had suppressed the impure energy of heaven and earth with Buddhist power, had once stretched across the great earth of the Kantō. The Saint Hakurei who had sat in meditation within it for centuries, though a crack had appeared in his spiritual heart just before death, preventing him from fully attaining buddhahood, was still a flesh-bodhisattva.
Even having become a demon, he still possessed the terrifying Buddhist power to suppress all demonic energy. And he still possessed the Bodhi-heart that could sever all defilements beneath heaven.
If that demon-buddha had discovered her existence, the consequences would have been unthinkable.
So Kaguya had chosen slumber.
To be precise, she had chosen stasis.
Using the power she had stolen from the celestial maiden of old, she ha, sealed the entirety of Mount Fuji. All living things that entered the mountain—human or demon, bird or beast, grass or tree, insect or fish, would be frozen in place the instant they stepped into this domain.
Wide-area temporal stasis.
This was one of the spells she had stolen from the celestial maiden.
Combined with her other ability, Meikyō Shisui, the Mirror of Still Water, the Life-Reflecting Mirror that rebounded all attacks offense and defense in one, nearly impossible to overcome.
However, not long ago, Mount Hakurei vanished.
That Buddhist barrier which had suppressed the Kantō for centuries dissolved in a single night. The impure energy of heaven and earth, like a breached dam, surged back with ferocious intensity.
And through the continuous outward exploration and investigation she had undertaken over this period, Kaguya gradually came to understand everything.
The mirror in her palm turned half a circle, reflecting the churning impure energy beyond the mountain. It also reflected that celestial fissure, stretching across dozens of meters and, beneath that fissure, the gray-robed figure that had emerged.
That was, without question, Shinji.
But at the same time, not merely Shinji.
Within Kaguya's mirror, there were also reflected the demons that, with the departure of Saint Hakurei from Mount Hakurei, had begun to reveal themselves across the Kantō.
Most had already been purged.
But some still remained.
For instance…
The daiyōkai from the northeast who sought to invade southward.
Menōmaru.
Her gaze shifted away from the mirror and toward the side of the great hall.
There, two figures knelt.
Demons clad in the garments of celestial attendants, white robes and gauze skirts, their features delicate and lovely, seemingly no different from the fairy maidens who descended from Takamagahara in the old legends.
Yet if one's perception was sharp enough, one could sense that what flowed within those two bodies was not spiritual power, but exceedingly well-concealed demonic energy.
False.
They were demons under Kaguya's command, the only survivors, specially permitted by her to move within the seal, disguised in the form of celestial attendants.
Since she had taken this body and stolen this identity, Kaguya naturally had to imitate the bearing and majesty of a celestial maiden.
"Go north."
Kaguya's voice echoed through the great hall.
"Tell that moth-demon who wishes to march south, that I am willing to help him."
As for Nakai Shinji, based on the information Kaguya had gathered, the news of Mount Hakurei was suspected to be connected to him, and to that miko beside him, who had gained considerable renown in this era.
She did not know what method they had used to make that "demon-buddha" fully attain buddhahood and vanish.
But Kaguya had been lying dormant for so many years. She would, of course, hold the utmost wariness toward them… and the utmost caution.
Therefore, alliance. Cooperation.
It was inevitable.
Having remained within this mountain for so many years, she also very much wished to walk out.
To retrieve what "she" had once lost.
The Celestial Robe, stolen by mortals.
"Mount Hakurei is gone. That newly risen demon is powerful, but he cannot simultaneously guard both north and south."
The mirror turned once more, reflecting the direction of Mutsu, deep within the northern ice fields.
"One from the south to the north. One from the north to the south. A pincer from two fronts. No matter how powerful that newborn demon is, he cannot handle two battle lines at once."
A pause.
"Let it move first," she said.
"Then, I will move."
The two demons disguised as celestial attendants rose silently.
They transformed into two streaks of white light and fled northward from the depths of the great hall. They passed through the time-frozen seal, through the thick rock walls of Mount Fuji, and vanished into the night.
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T/n: No r18 chapters for now, i am not in mood to write horny for sometime.