Chapter 216: Kikyo: Sorry, I Missed
But soon, Hikaru realized something was entirely amiss.
Inside the towering skeletal frame of the Asura Transformation, his Crimson Demon Eyes locked onto the golden-haired figure collapsed at the end of the trench on the hillside. The diagonal wound stretching from her left shoulder down to her right waist was deep enough to expose bone. Blood soaked the surrounding rubble, dyeing her dark red kimono nearly black.
That had been his full-force slash, the merging of Sun and Moon. Blood Fire burned unceasingly, and the moon-wheel momentum remained unstopping. While it was not his absolute limit, it was his full strength, specifically targeted to negate regenerative immortality.
According to normal logic, whether the victim was a demon or a human, a wound inflicted by that strike could not heal quickly.
Yet, it was healing.
At a speed visible to the naked eye.
The charred, ruined tissue on both sides of the deep cut began peeling away, revealing fresh red flesh beneath. The new muscle fibers grew toward the center at an abnormal, horrifying rate. Severed blood vessels rewove themselves together, and torn muscles re-bridged the gap.
Hikaru's demonic eyes contracted slightly.
This was not a demon's regeneration.
Nor was it an oni's immortality.
That specific method of healing looked entirely different. It was closer to a melted candle re-solidifying its wax, or a torn piece of cloth magically stitching itself back together.
Even the fabric of her clothing was repairing itself.
It looked exactly as if time itself was reversing over that specific wound.
The golden-haired girl pushed herself up from the blood-soaked rubble.
Her excessively delicate face was smeared with mud and gore, yet her golden eyes still shone brightly. The fire within her gaze had not yet extinguished.
She looked down at the rapidly closing wound stretching across her torso.
"That hurts."
Her voice was unexpectedly light, surprisingly crisp.
It carried a tone utterly mismatched with a fifteen or sixteen-year-old girl standing on a bloody battlefield. It was a careless, devil-may-care tune.
She showed no anger. She showed no humiliation.
Even in the instant she clearly saw the full, terrifying form of the Asura Transformation's six-meter Bone-Thunder Giant Body, what flashed in those golden vertical pupils was closer to pure excitement.
But that excitement lasted only a fleeting moment.
Because her mind processed reality much faster than her heart.
She could sense the overwhelming pressure radiating from the entity before her. This demon had likely already approached the threshold of the legendary Great Yokai.
And she herself was far from ready.
Although born as the incarnation of the Demon King of the Sixth Heaven, merely being born did not equal a complete awakening.
She was only fifteen years old.
She had inherited the position of head of the Owari Oda Clan less than half a year ago.
The demonic king power dormant within her bloodline was only developed to a minuscule fraction of its true potential. That terrifying lotus karma fire she displayed earlier was the absolute limit of what she could currently mobilize.
It looked incredibly intimidating, but it was essentially a hollow facade.
Compared to Uesugi Kenshin's descent of Bishamonten, her current power was more than a full grade inferior.
That was exactly why she had been cut down with a single, overwhelming slash.
All of this, she understood perfectly well in her heart.
Oda Nobuna regained her footing on the loose gravel.
Her horrific wounds had healed completely, leaving behind only a shocking smear of wet blood on her kimono, which hung loosely yet still clung to her small frame.
She looked up at the towering Asura Transformation.
She then shifted her gaze to the battlefield at the feet of the giant skeletal construct. Shibata Katsuie was kneeling on the gravel on one knee, her massive great axe propping her up. Katsuie's amber eyes stared fixedly at the Bone-Thunder Giant Body looming above her, completely motionless.
The dozens of armored cavalry that had followed their charge were already blocked by the Imagawa Clan's fierce counterattack, trapped tightly within the encirclement.
The situation was clear at a single glance.
The surprise attack had failed completely.
Katsuie was heavily suppressed, she herself had been struck down by a single blade, and their remaining forces were absolutely insufficient to confront a seven-thousand-strong army head-on.
This entire attack had been a desperate gamble in a hopeless situation. The entire foundation of the Owari Oda Clan consisted of only a little over a thousand soldiers, and among them were only these few dozen elite cavalry. They simply could not produce any more troops.
Their only chance of winning was to take advantage of the afternoon lull, striking when the Imagawa main camp was setting up their tents and resting with lax defenses. They had planned to use the raw power of Katsuie's divine artifact as the lead to lead a surprise decapitation strike.
If it succeeded, they would turn the tables on the entire region.
If it did not succeed...
Then forget it.
"Katsuie, retreat!"
The blonde girl shouted at the absolute top of her lungs.
Her voice was not booming, yet it pierced sharply through the chaotic din of the battlefield.
Katsuie looked up abruptly, her grip tightening on her axe.
"My Lord—"
"The enemy is too strong, let's beat a hasty retreat!"
The latter part of her shout was completely shameless.
It was so blunt and unrefined that both the demons and the human soldiers present froze in stunned silence for a moment.
Katsuie's mouth twitched violently. In this critical life-or-death moment, her Lord had actually used the vulgar slang of street ruffians to order a retreat.
But the warrior did not hesitate.
She pushed herself up from the blood-stained ground with her great axe, kicked off the dirt with one heavy foot, and launched herself backward. She swept horizontally across a distance of three zhang, landing squarely on the back of a riderless warhorse.
Katsuie's amber eyes swept over the Asura Transformation one last time, memorizing the terrifying pressure, before she fiercely squeezed the horse's flanks and turned around.
The fifteen-year-old blonde girl had already run off first.
She was moving even faster than when she had charged in.
She did not even bother to find a horse.
She just ran away directly on foot, her small legs carrying her swiftly over the hills.
Seeing their commander and their Lord retreating at the same time, the remaining dozens of armored cavalry broke contact in less than ten seconds. They turned their horses around and filed out rapidly through the gaps on both sides of the hill.
They came quickly, and they left even faster.
The entire raiding party retreated like a rapidly receding tide, leaving behind only broken wreckage, fresh bloodstains, and a wide patch of trampled mud on the battlefield.
The Asura Transformation stood rooted to the spot.
The six-meter Bone-Thunder Giant Body did not take a single step in pursuit. Hikaru knew that even if he caught up, he could not permanently kill the opponent right now, so there was absolutely no point in doing useless work.
That specific kind of immortality, which looked almost exactly like time reversing itself, was completely different from the immortality he had encountered before that relied purely on powerful cellular regenerative abilities.
Of course, the other reason for not pursuing was that his primary purpose for coming here had already been achieved.
Because of the title Demon King of the Sixth Heaven.
Hikaru watched the blonde figure disappear completely behind the distant hill. The glowing purple patterns swirling in his Crimson Demon Eyes slowly calmed down, fading back into a deep, still red.
Afterward, he let out a slow breath.
He retracted the Asura Transformation.
The massive Bone Spikes retracted smoothly back into his body, and the crackling arcs of thunder dissipated into the surrounding air.
He landed softly back on the ground, his simple gray robes fluttering in the lingering wind of the battlefield.
He sheathed his twin blades with a sharp, synchronized click.
Oda Nobunaga. Or rather, in this specific world, she should be called Oda Nobuna.
She was the most controversial existence of the entire Sengoku Period.
The woman known to later generations as the Great Destroyer.
She boldly called herself the Demon King of the Sixth Heaven, taking on the mantle of Papiyas, the absolute ruler of the Paranirmita-vasavartin heaven, the King of the Demonic Path who stood in direct opposition to Gautama Buddha in the ancient scriptures.
She seemed very powerful on the surface.
The Crimson Lotus Karmic Fire she displayed just now had given him an extremely terrifying first impression. It was so intense that he had instinctively activated the Asura Transformation and pushed his Four Viscera to their absolute limit just to counter it.
But upon actually crossing blades with her, he discovered the truth.
It was hollow.
At least for now, her power was entirely hollow.
The outward pressure was immense, but the actual kinetic energy behind the strike was extremely low and minimal.
To put it concisely in terms he understood...
It was exactly like a novice player who had somehow obtained a legendary, end-game weapon but had not yet reached the required level to actually equip it. The weapon's base stats were terrifying to look at, but the actual damage dealt by the player was about the same as swinging a wooden stick.
However.
That healing speed.
That was truly what he cared about right now.
His two-in-one full-power slash, burning and freezing simultaneously with both Blood Fire and Yellow Springs to sever immortality, should have completely destroyed the regenerative starting point of the cut surface.
But she still healed.
In a mere instant, she was as good as new.
The fundamental source of this immortality was truly different from Kibutsuji Muzan's.
Muzan's immortality relied on the infinite, rapid regeneration of a demon's physical constitution, and his absolute weakness was sunlight.
Whereas Nobuna's healing was more like an inherent characteristic of the Demon King concept herself.
The Demon King of the Sixth Heaven governed the highest layer of the Desire Realm and was inherently an existence that completely transcended the mortal concepts of life and death.
As long as the conceptual power of the Demon King remained in the world, this incarnated physical body would not be truly destroyed. It would constantly revert to its most perfect, unblemished state.
Unless the concept of the Demon King of the Sixth Heaven herself was shattered.
Or he tried to seal her away permanently.
This was something he could prepare for in the future.
But that was a matter for later.
As for the present moment.
There was no rush.
Hikaru withdrew his gaze from the empty hills and turned to look behind him.
Imagawa Yoshimoto was still kneeling on the muddy ground.
Her knees were sunk deep into the wet earth. The elegant hem of her Junihitoe kimono was covered in torn grass clippings and dark bloodstains. Her delicate, exquisite face still retained the sickly paleness from her near-death experience just moments ago.
But her eyes were completely different from before.
There was no more fear in them.
Her dark eyes seemed to hide many complex emotions: the heavy relief of surviving a disaster, the subtle shame of needing to be saved by someone else, the lingering adrenaline of the moment she had bravely stepped forward to face the charge, and also...
She looked at the gray figure standing before her.
His pale long hair hung loosely to his waist. The terrifying demon mask had dissipated, revealing a sharp side profile with cold, well-defined features.
His Crimson Demon Eyes were looking toward the other side of the hill, quietly watching the dust raised by the retreating Oda Clan army.
He had come.
Once again.
From that rainy night when he slew the thunder beast in Suruga Castle, to the moment the thunder split the earth on the Jentaigahara battlefield to separate the two clashing armies, to the time the Imagawa fleet landed in Echigo when the Uesugi Clan surrounded them from the north and south.
Every single time she needed him most, this demon was there.
Yoshimoto took a deep, trembling breath.
Her knees were still weak, but she pressed her hands against the muddy ground and forced herself to stand up.
She brushed the heavy dirt off her expensive kimono. She reached up to tidy her hair, which had been messed up by the violent wind, and carefully straightened her crooked golden hair accessory.
In a matter of seconds, she regained the flawless decorum befitting the supreme head of the Imagawa Clan.
She walked over to him.
Her pace was not fast, but it was heavy. Every single step was taken with deliberate force, as if she were physically stamping her confidence down into the earth.
She stopped at a respectful distance of three steps behind Hikaru.
"Lord Kobe Hikaru."
She called his name.
Her voice was perfectly steady, even carrying a distinct sense of aristocratic poise.
A second ago she had been in a sorry, terrified state, yet the young girl had donned the impenetrable mask of a seasoned politician in an instant.
Hikaru turned around to face her.
On Yoshimoto's face hung the exact expression he had seen many times before. It was a smile, dignified and elegant, with just the right amount of approachability to put others at ease.
This was her most standard, practiced posture.
Gentle, polite, and entirely impeccable.
"Thank you for your assistance."
She bowed slightly, her folded fan pressed gently against her chest. Her posture was as perfect as a painted portrait. "The Imagawa Clan owes you yet another heavy favor."
Hikaru did not respond immediately. He simply looked at her, his expression blank, waiting for what he knew would come next.
As expected.
"However—"
She straightened up, tapping her folded fan lightly against her open palm.
"I think, rather than letting these favors pile up endlessly, it would be much better to take our relationship a step further."
Yoshimoto's eyes brightened with ambition.
"You have arrived just in time. There are some important things I happen to need to discuss with you."
"For instance... the position of Guardian Deity of the Suruga Imagawa Clan can actually be moved up a little higher."
She spoke slowly, making sure to articulate every single word clearly so her intentions were understood.
"You know, after Master Taigen Sessai passed away, the Imagawa Clan has sorely lacked someone who can truly see the big picture. What the Hojo gave you was the position of a deity for two provinces, but that is a very conservative approach. What I can offer you is entirely different."
She used her folded fan to point gracefully toward the massive camp of seven thousand troops resting behind her.
"I think you must know by now that I intend to march on Kyoto. And after that is accomplished, the Guardian Deity of the Imagawa Clan will no longer be the deity of just one province, Suruga."
"It will be the deity of all under heaven."
"So... come and lend me your strength. I will hand over the absolute command of these seven thousand troops entirely to you!"
It was beautifully said.
It was indeed Imagawa Yoshimoto's signature style. She was not as deeply calculating as Hojo Ujiyasu, nor as unruffled and stoic as Takeda Shingen.
Her methods were much more direct. She laid out all her conditions on the table, revealed her highest price, and then waited patiently for the other party's reaction or counteroffer.
But Hikaru simply looked at her.
His Crimson Demon Eyes were as calm and unreadable as a stagnant pond.
"Yoshimoto."
"You're saying these things right now because you think this is the absolute best opportunity to win me over."
Yoshimoto's flawless smile faltered for a fraction of a second.
Hikaru continued, his voice flat.
"Someone who has just been pulled back from the absolute brink of death is most likely to make impulsive, grand promises. You're taking advantage of your own brush with mortality to make a pitch."
The smile vanished completely.
In its place was a brief, completely exposed blankness.
Her delicate face flushed a deep red.
It spread rapidly upward from her neck, moving as fast as a wildfire.
"I didn't..."
"You did."
Hikaru's tone was so flat, so utterly matter-of-fact, that it choked Yoshimoto's desperate rebuttal before the words could even leave her mouth.
He added one more sentence.
"And your hand was trembling the entire time you said all that."
Yoshimoto immediately looked down at her hand holding the folded fan.
It was indeed trembling.
It was a subtle, almost imperceptible tremor, shaking the fine silk of the fan.
But he had noticed it anyway.
That tremor wasn't born of lingering fear, nor was it from the excitement of her grand ambitions.
It was pure nervousness.
It was the intense nervousness of a sixteen-year-old girl trying, and completely failing, to maintain her cool composure in front of the specific person she cared about.
Yoshimoto quickly hid her trembling hand inside her long sleeve.
"...Could you please not see everything so clearly?"
Her voice had grown much smaller, losing all its previous political weight.
She raised the folding fan to cover half her face, revealing only a pair of sparkling, embarrassed eyes. Her face was already burning hot.
It was vexation.
The specific vexation of shame rapidly turning into anger.
It was the overheating flush of having her deepest thoughts completely seen through by a deadpan demon.
It had all started that rainy night in Suruga.
From the night he effortlessly slew the thunder beast, she had noticed this unique youkai.
She noticed him because he was strong, and unlike ordinary youkai who either looked down on humans with cruel disdain, treating them purely as livestock, or simply wanted absolutely nothing to do with them, he was different.
Then came those three long nights camping in the freezing wilderness. When she was shivering violently from the cold but stubbornly refused to admit it to her retainers, he had quietly used his demon fire to provide warmth. Her fingers had rested lightly on the back of his cold hand. Not holding, not grasping, just resting there.
She couldn't quite describe the feeling in her chest.
She only knew that once her hand was resting there, she felt completely at ease.
And then she actually fell asleep.
A young girl with a severe lack of security, surrounded by enemies, had actually fallen asleep peacefully right beside a terrifying youkai.
That fact alone spoke volumes to her heart.
And now, up to the present moment.
Yoshimoto truly felt it was time to take things a step further.
It had nothing to do with conquering the land or political alliances. It was only because that deep sense of security was something she had never experienced before in her entire life. For Imagawa Yoshimoto, that feeling was far more precious than any so-called fondness or superficial goodwill.
"I admit it."
Yoshimoto slowly moved the folding fan away from her flushed face.
She stopped hiding behind it.
Since she was already completely seen through, there was no point in pretending. "I have... a bit of dependence on you... on a youkai."
She spoke quickly, the words tumbling out as if she were afraid she might change her mind if she paused.
But she paused abruptly before finishing her thought.
"Alright... maybe it's not just a bit."
"But it's not a lot either—"
She paused again.
She bit her lower lip.
"...Alright, it might be a bit more than I originally thought."
The folding fan spun nervously once, then twice in her delicate hand.
"But that's a completely separate matter from winning you over! Everything I said about becoming the absolute ruler of the land after marching on the capital, all of that was completely sincere! It wasn't because—"
"I know."
Hikaru interrupted her rambling.
"Every word you said about the campaign was sincere. Your political judgment is perfectly sound, and the grand plan to march on the capital is indeed the most reasonable path for your clan at the moment."
He looked down at her.
His Crimson Demon Eyes held no mockery, and they held no cold rejection.
"It's just that when you said all that, you tried to smuggle in a little something extra."
He sounded somewhat amused, a rare tone for the Oni Samurai.
Yoshimoto bit her lip harder.
"...You're really annoying. If it were Master Taigen Sessai standing here, he definitely wouldn't say things like that to me."
"Which is exactly why I'm not your master, Lord of the Province."
The two looked at each other in silence.
The young Province Lord's face was flushed a deep crimson, her ears burning even redder, her lips pressed tightly into a thin line of embarrassment.
The Oni Samurai's demonic eyes glimmered faintly in the afternoon light, his expression entirely unreadable.
The air between them was quiet for a few long seconds.
Just as Yoshimoto opened her mouth, about to speak again—
Whoosh.
Suddenly, a blinding streak of white light shot out from the direction of the distant hills.
It was incredibly fast, its momentum fierce and uncompromising.
In almost an instant, the glowing arrow grazed right past Imagawa Yoshimoto's right cheek.
It was so close it violently stirred the stray hairs resting at her temple.
It was so close she could feel the searing heat of the pure spiritual power radiating from the arrowhead as it passed by her skin.
The arrow wasn't aimed at her.
It landed exactly five paces behind her. A pale gray youkai was quietly crawling out of a bloody pile of corpses on the battlefield. It was shrouded in thick, black resentment, its limbs malformed and twisted. It was clearly a low-level creature spawned naturally by the heavy deathly aura of the recent slaughter.
The Sacred Arrow pierced flawlessly through its chest.
Blinding spiritual power exploded outward from the arrowhead. The youkai didn't even have time to let out a scream before it was instantly turned to fine ash.
Yoshimoto froze completely.
She stood rooted to the spot, her eyes wide, the stinging sensation from the arrow's violent wind still lingering sharply on her cheek.
So this is the real reason I didn't agree... Hikaru thought to himself, silently turning his head.
He looked toward the direction the arrow had come from.
He looked toward that graceful figure dressed in pristine white robes and bright red hakama pants, with cascading black hair blowing in the wind.
The longbow was already lowered to her side, the bowstring still vibrating faintly with residual power.
Kikyo walked over from the gentle slope on the south side of the hill. Her steps were completely unhurried, the hem of her miko robes swaying lightly as she brushed through the tall grass.
The miko's face was coolly exquisite, her lips pale, revealing absolutely no excess emotion.
She walked directly to Hikaru's side.
Very naturally—
She reached out and took his hand.
Their fingers interlocked smoothly.
The motion was fluid, practiced, and entirely without hesitation.
Then, she turned her dark eyes to Imagawa Yoshimoto.
She gave a slight, perfectly measured bow.
"A pleasure to meet you. It's been a while, Lord of Imagawa Province."
Her voice was calm, carrying the proper, flawless decorum and etiquette of a shrine maiden. "I am Kikyo, the miko responsible for guarding the Shikon Jewel at the Kaede Village shrine."
"My apologies for the sudden intrusion. That arrow just now was simply to purify a Yao Qi."
She gave a slight smile.
The smile was faint, incredibly shallow. The curve of her lips was just barely enough to be called a smile, but the light in her dark eyes was clear, transparent, and chillingly sharp.
"The battlefield is far too heavy with resentment, it easily breeds evil things. I purified some along the way, which is why I arrived a step later than my Hikaru."
Her tone was perfectly sincere, her words entirely impeccable, leaving absolutely no room for anyone to find fault.
Yoshimoto stared blankly at that coolly beautiful face, then slowly looked down at their tightly interlocked fingers.
She recalled the exact landing point of that terrifying arrow.
It had flown right past her cheek.
One single inch away from hitting her directly in the face.
Was that really just purifying Yao Qi?
That was trying to purify her right along with it, wasn't it?
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