That night, the sky above the province of Musashi blazed white on one side.
The demon-breaking arrow that had reduced the Kamaitachi to dust had made far too much noise — it didn't merely sweep the demon-qi clean from a ten-li radius.
It lit a lamp in the middle of a war-torn age. A lamp that no one who saw it could look away from.
…
Kyoto.
The center of power in all of Japan.
Deep within the inner city, close to the palace gates, in the very heart of Tsuchimikado Avenue — this was where the Bureau of Onmyō stood. The hidden nerve center of Japan's shadow world.
And at this moment, within its walls, atop a soaring star-gazing platform, the morning wind carried with it a bite of cold.
An old man in a pristine white hunting robe turned an armillary sphere in his hands — a device brought over from the Tang Dynasty of the mainland, centuries past. His hair was a patchy white. The bags under his eyes sagged long and heavy, the unmistakable mark of a lifetime spent burning midnight oil to watch the stars.
The bronze rings of the armillary sphere were turning in his grip — and then, without warning, they stopped.
Locked in place.
"It's been disrupted," the old man said.
Beside him, a young Onmyōji clutching a record ledger leaned in. "Disrupted? Which lord is starting a war this time?"
"A war?" The old man made a dismissive sound. "A war is nothing."
He pointed toward the northeastern sky.
By their long years of observation, that region of stars should have been a dim, murky patch of sky. Tonight, it was suffused with a sickly, uncomfortable white.
"Something has emerged over in Musashi Province," he said.
"A great demon?"
"More troublesome than a great demon."
The old man reset the armillary sphere, but the gravity in his expression refused to lift. "That is a force of cosmic caliber — something capable of reshaping the spiritual veins of an entire region. It happened once before, several hundred years ago. It was caused by her — the divinely chosen shrine maiden. Midoriko."
The young Onmyōji's brush went still.
Midoriko.
A forbidden topic within the Bureau of Onmyō. A shrine maiden of humble, unofficial origins who had pressed every last one of their highborn, official Onmyōji faces into the dirt — and left behind the enduring headache known as the Shikon Jewel.
And what the old man was referring to now could only be that same thing. The Shikon Jewel.
"That object… hasn't it always been carefully guarded?"
"Who knows."
The old man gave a low grunt, watching the white light that had not yet fully faded. "But a purifying force of this scale, in this direction — if it isn't the Shikon Jewel, there's simply nothing else it could be."
"Whether it's a blessing or a disaster, though — that remains to be seen. We watch and wait."
The young Onmyōji nodded and made his notes.
The old man kept his eyes on the horizon, his face heavy with unease.
Monstrous things were bred in monstrous ages.
But if the monster grew too powerful, it would be bad news for everyone.
Because Kyoto, too, was far from at peace.
…
Elsewhere.
Beneath the capital, buried deep underground, lay a palace of extravagant luxury.
No moonlight reached it. Only the eternal flames of long-burning lamps, crackling as they consumed their oil. The air was thick with the iron reek of blood.
Behind layers of heavy curtains, a woman sat.
A jūnihitoe — the twelve-layered court robe worn only by the highest-born ladies of the nobility — pooled around her on the floor, its deep folds stained here and there with dark red. She held a lacquered tray in her hands. On the tray lay a liver, freshly pulled from the belly of something living, still steaming.
"It hurts."
The woman put the liver in her mouth and swallowed it whole without chewing, then pressed both hands to her abdomen, brow furrowing into a deep crease.
"Lady Hagoromo-Gitsune?"
Kneeling outside the curtains was a hunched little old man — enormous head perched on a shrunken frame, absurd as a gourd left to grow too long.
"That light," the woman said, pointing east. "It stings."
Even through the thick layers of earth and stone overhead, she had felt it. That scorching heat — the kind that threatened to burn every impurity in existence to ash.
It had made the 'child' inside her very uncomfortable.
"It came from the direction of Musashi Province." The little old man pressed his forehead to the floor. "Some blind and foolish thing was making a scene in that area — apparently over a certain jewel."
"A jewel…" The woman's tongue flickered out and licked the bloodstain from the corner of her mouth. "The Shikon Jewel? So those fools finally couldn't keep it hidden any longer."
Her tongue was forked — like a serpent's, or a fox's.
"That thing is precious. It would help my child grow faster."
"But that light," she said, "is thoroughly irritating."
Behind her, nine black tails shifted in and out of the shadows, slapping the stone floor with restless, irritable force, cracking the hard slabs with each blow.
"Find out the truth of it," she commanded.
"If it is real, seize it. If someone is simply parading around with a counterfeit…"
She smiled, showing two sharp canine teeth.
"Then eat whoever's holding the jewel. A little supplemental nutrition for my child."
"As you command, Lady Hagoromo-Gitsune."
The little old man pressed his head lower still.
In the darkness, countless eyes lit up — the Night Parade of a Hundred Demons that lay in waiting within this city's shadows. They were waiting. Waiting for the being gestating inside the figure known as Hagoromo-Gitsune.
Waiting for the return of the one destined to rule.
The King.
…
The Tōkaidō Road. A roadside open-air tea stall.
The owner was busy wiping down the tables, muttering under his breath.
"The world's gone to pieces, I tell you. Whatever that ruckus was last night — scared my donkey so bad it wouldn't touch its feed."
In the corner sat a young man.
His hair was golden, swept back — an extraordinarily rare color. In this era, such a thing meant either a foreigner from across the sea, or something that wasn't quite human. And this young man's hair floated, faintly, as though each strand were a blade of a scythe unfurling in a slow, leisurely arc.
He wore a striped kimono that looked expensive, like a man of breeding — yet he carried no katana, the status symbol every noble treasured. In its place, tucked at his waist, was a single smoking pipe.
The table before him was crowded with empty dishes.
He tilted his head back and looked at the eastern sky.
"Hey, boss — what's that?"
He pointed toward the light that had not yet fully dispersed — a few torn clouds catching its reflection like brushstrokes of mottled color on a painted scroll.
"Who knows," the owner said, not looking up. "Long as it doesn't reach us common folk, that's all I care about."
"Fair enough."
The young man drew on his pipe and exhaled a string of smoke rings.
"Still — that was a hell of a fight."
He could tell. There was the scent of wind in it — the Kamaitachi's signature. He knew that creature. Had tried to recruit it once, in fact. Hadn't even gotten close before it turned him down flat. But he could never mistake that volatile, bristling aura.
And now, by the look of things, that creature was dead.
"Interesting."
The young man rose to his feet, stretched with an idle roll of his shoulders — his joints cracking loudly — and snatched up his pipe.
"I've been on this trip the whole time without finding a single decent companion. And that demon-qi tangled up with that terrifying spiritual power over there — that's interesting too."
He turned and walked away.
The owner was still wiping tables, completely unaware his customer had already left.
It wasn't until the young man was ten jō down the road that it hit him.
"Hey! Sir! You haven't paid yet!"
The owner rushed out — and found the road completely empty. Not even a shadow.
"What in the…"
He rubbed his eyes.
The young man had been sitting right there.
Under the shade of a tree some distance away, the young man glanced back over his shoulder, a wide, shameless grin spreading across his face.
Eat well, drink free — without leaving a trace.
That was his talent. And the particular variety of dread he left behind.
Ghost-swift. Silent as smoke.
"Musashi Province, then…"
He tucked the pipe back at his hip, his steps light and easy.
"Let's go take a look. Maybe I'll find someone worth bringing into my future Night Parade."
…
Musashi Province. A small village.
Kōbe Hikaru's expression shifted slightly as he, too, raised his eyes toward the fading traces still lingering in the sky.
He didn't need to think hard to know — last night's spectacle had drawn attention from all corners. The practitioners, monks, and Onmyōji of this era; the demons great and small — all of them would be watching, and moving.
But that was fine.
As long as Kikyō was here, and he was here to support her — Kōbe Hikaru was confident that short of running into a truly top-tier demon, they could walk away from anything without a scratch.
But that wasn't the focus right now.
The focus right now was the large iron pot in front of him.
Inside it, a wild pheasant simmered away, the broth bubbling softly, filling the air with a fragrance that made it hard to think about anything else.
Kaede was crouched beside it, drooling shamelessly. Kikyō was quietly feeding kindling into the stove.
After a whole night of battle, hunger was inevitable.
"Ready yet?" Kōbe Hikaru asked.
Strictly speaking, [Undying Bloodthirst] meant he had no need to eat. But if he had the choice, he would always prefer to eat like a person.
He was a demon, and a ghost. But at his core, he still thought like a human.
Desire encompassed appetite too — not merely for sustenance, but for the pleasure of a good meal.
"Almost," Kikyō said, without looking up.
Sunlight poured through the window and fell across her shoulders, making the freshly washed white of her kosode glow.
Kōbe Hikaru leaned against the pillar and took in the scene.
The world was vast.
Trouble was everywhere.
But for this one moment — this pot of pheasant broth smelled really, genuinely good.
Since the day he had crossed over into this world, moments this peaceful had been rare.
Rare enough to be worth savoring.
____
________________________________________
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! 😉