Chapter 4: Wait, You Call This the Shikon Jewel?
The moment Kobe Hikaru charged into the demon horde, he knew he'd made a tactical error.
It wasn't regret for attacking, but for failing to properly gauge the enemy's numbers first.
Three or four hundred?
Damn it, there had to be at least five hundred.
Gray-green figures swarmed the sky and blotted out the fields, engulfing him in an instant. A cacophony of shrieks, roars, and guttural howls assaulted him, threatening to shatter his eardrums. A foul-smelling Yao Qi washed over him, a stench so thick and cloying that even he, an Oni Samurai who had no need to breathe, felt a wave of nausea.
A demon with the head of a carrion bird lunged first, its sharp talons scything straight for his face with astonishing speed.
Hikaru sidestepped, the Muramasa in his hand slicing horizontally in a single, fluid motion. The blade met no resistance as it swept across the creature's neck.
With a wet, soft thud, the bird's head spun off its shoulders, arcing through the air in a spray of blackish blood. The headless body stumbled two more steps before collapsing with a heavy crash.
[Demon Blade Muramasa: Favorability +1]
There was no time to check the system panel.
Three snake-bodied demons surged from his left. Their lower bodies were a writhing mass of intertwined serpentine tails, while their scaled, humanoid torsos lunged forward, bloodthirsty maws gaping wide. Simultaneously, two hulking, blue-skinned Oni on his right raised massive bone clubs to smash down, the weapons still caked with the gore of some unknown victim.
Hikaru tapped his foot against the ground and launched himself high into the air, soaring over the coiling bodies of the snake demons. As he flew, his blade traced a silver arc through the air.
Kasagiri.
The heads of both Blue-skinned Oni tumbled to the ground at the same time, landing in the grass with a pair of dull thuds.
Before he even began his descent, a surge of Yao Qi pricked at his back.
Hikaru twisted his body in mid-air, a contortion nearly impossible for a living person to perform, but the body of an Oni Samurai was not bound by such mortal limitations. He torqued his waist and abdomen, thrusting the tip of his blade directly backward.
A centipede spirit that had been sneaking up on him was pierced clean through the throat. Its multi-legged body writhed and twitched on the steel, emitting a piercing, high-pitched shriek.
With a sharp flick of his wrist, Hikaru sent the impaled creature flying, its corpse knocking over a handful of smaller demons that had been scrambling to follow.
—Four.
He counted silently, his mind a sliver of ice amidst the chaos. Tapping his toe against a fresh corpse for use, he shot forward once more, his eyes fixed on the old man.
The complex pattern on Muramasa's steel had already begun to glow a deep, purplish-red, stained and fed by the blood of his enemies. The blade was excited—extremely excited. With every demon he cut down, the cursed steel seemed to devour its lifeblood, and with every feeding, its edge grew just a fraction sharper. The sensation was like feeding a starving beast; with every bite, it grew more ferocious.
Hikaru, however, refused to get bogged down in the fight. His goal was clear: save the old man first. Everything else was secondary.
"Move!" he roared.
His blade flashed, severing the arms of three smaller demons blocking his path. Three limbs flew into the sky as screams erupted one after another.
Finally, he broke through the last line and reached the old man's side.
Up close, the man's condition was even worse than he had imagined. He was ancient, well over seventy, dressed in tattered gray-white robes. His face was a mask of wrinkles and bloodstains. His left arm was a ruin, the entire limb severed by some sharp weapon, leaving only a small stump below the shoulder. It had been hastily bandaged with strips of cloth, but blood had already soaked through, dripping steadily onto the ground. His right hand was frozen in a seal common to human mages, while the mangled remainder of his left arm clutched a cloth bundle, protecting it tightly against his chest.
The old man clearly hadn't expected reinforcements. He certainly hadn't expected that reinforcement to be an Oni Samurai.
His cloudy eyes filled with raw vigilance. What little spiritual power he had left instantly surged to the surface of his body, forming a faint, shimmering membrane of light. Though the barrier was weak, it was still a potent threat to Hikaru, causing his demonic skin to prickle with a slight burning pain. It was the defensive technique he had seen mages use from a distance.
"Don't get excited, old man!" Hikaru shouted, his voice a low growl as he parried a lunge from another demon. "I'm here to save you!"
"You are a demon!" the old man's voice was a hoarse rasp, thick with distrust. "How could a demon possibly save a human?"
"I know I'm a demon!" Hikaru snapped. He spun, his blade bisecting a scorpion spirit the size of a human head, its venomous stinger missing his eye by a hair's breadth. Without even turning back to the old man, he added, "But I'm a demon with principles. Besides, I used to be human! Believe it or not, that's up to you. If you don't, I'm leaving!"
He was here to scavenge, and saving someone was merely a convenient side-quest. If the person refused to be saved, he couldn't be blamed. Hikaru had a moral compass, but he was just an 'ordinary person,' not some self-sacrificing saint. He only did what was within his power and would never risk his own life for a stranger.
"..."
The old man was silent for a long moment.
He looked at the endless horde of demons gathering around them, their gray-green figures nearly obscuring the sky.
He looked at his own nearly exhausted spiritual power.
Finally, his gaze fell to the cloth bundle clutched in his arms.
He let out a long, weary sigh.
"Fine." He retracted the membrane of light. "It's not as if I have a choice, is it?"
"That's right." Hikaru grabbed the old man's remaining arm as demonic power surged beneath his feet. "Hold on tight. This is going to be a bit bumpy."
The next moment, he hoisted the old man onto his back and charged out of the encirclement.
The explosive speed of [Ghost Step] was pushed to its absolute limit. The two figures became a phantom blur, weaving through the dense mass of demons at a speed the naked eye could barely track. They left behind nothing but a trail of severed limbs, fresh corpses, and the deafening sound of screams.
Hikaru didn't waste a single motion on the wounded demons writhing on the ground; his focus was entirely on. using the short-distance teleportation of [Ghost Step], he constantly changed directions in the forest, shaking off the pursuers at his heels. When he encountered straggling demons, he cut them down in passing—one slash per kill, clean and efficient. When he ran into larger groups, he detoured, seeing no need to clash head-on.
For all their terrifying numbers, they were, after all, just demons. They lacked the tactical discipline of a human army, and the gaps in their chaotic formation gave Hikaru all the room he needed to maneuver.
The old man seemed to have passed out, his body hanging limply on Hikaru's back. Only his one remaining arm still clutched the cloth bundle, holding it as if it were more important than his own life. Hikaru found himself genuinely curious about what treasure could inspire such devotion.
A half-hour later, inside a hidden cave, Hikaru gently placed the old man on the ground and leaned against the cool stone wall, trying to regulate his energy. Although an Oni Samurai didn't need to breathe, the intense battle and the high-output of demonic power had consumed a massive amount of his stamina. He felt a creeping stiffness in his limbs, a telltale sign of his Yao Qi running low—a rare occurrence for him.
"Cough... cough, cough..."
The old man stirred, waking with a violent fit of coughing that brought up mouthfuls of blood.
Hikaru watched him, his expression unreadable. He could tell the old man wouldn't last much longer. The injuries were too severe, the blood loss too great, his spiritual power was completely exhausted, and he was of an advanced age. With those four factors combined, not even a god could save him.
'So I saved him for nothing?' he thought.
That wasn't quite right. The favorability he'd gained for Muramasa was real, at least.
"Why... did you... save me?" the old man's voice was so weak it sounded as if it were drifting from another world.
"I saw an injustice and drew my blade to help," Hikaru replied calmly. "Is that reason enough?"
The old man glanced at him, his cloudy eyes lifting slightly as something flickered within them. It looked like surprise, but also a sliver of relief. And beneath it all, a grim determination born of utter helplessness.
"I am... the head of the Demon Slayer clan... from the mountains... ten miles away..." He spoke with immense difficulty, each word seeming to drain the last of his strength. "Those demons... were hunting me... for this..."
With a trembling hand, he passed the cloth bundle to Hikaru.
"This object... must never... fall into the hands of demons..."
Hikaru was slightly taken aback. He hadn't expected the old man to start entrusting him with his last will and testament. But after a moment's thought, it made sense. Though Hikaru was a demon, he was one who could communicate rationally. This old man truly had no other choice.
He took the bundle. It was surprisingly light, no bigger than a fist, wrapped in coarse linen.
He carefully unwrapped the cloth. Inside lay a single bead.
It was the size of a thumb, a pale, ethereal purple. It was perfectly round and translucent, emitting a soft, internal light. The light itself was peculiar; it wasn't glaring and pure like spiritual power, nor was it cold and sinister like Yao Qi. It carried a feeling that was difficult to describe. It was a bit... neutral.
As Hikaru stared at the bead, the system panel popped up automatically.
[Qualified target for capture detected.]
[Shikon Jewel]
[Quality: Artifact]
[Current Status: Dormant]
[Affinity: Cannot be unlocked. Prerequisites must be met.]
Hikaru stared at the text on the panel. Then he looked down at the bead in his hand. Then he looked back at the panel.
"..." His expression froze.
"Wait," he breathed, his voice trembling with a hint of disbelief. "What in the hell is this thing?!"
The old man didn't seem to hear him, nor did he answer. He simply continued to struggle, forcing out his final words.
"Please... take this item... to the village... a few mountains away..."
"Give it... to a priestess... named Kikyo..."
"She is... the only one... who can suppress the Shikon Jewel..."
"I'm counting... on you..."
Hikaru was no longer listening. A single thought echoed through his mind, drowning out everything else.
Shikon Jewel. The Shikon Jewel from Inuyasha.
The Shikon Jewel that could grant any wish. The Shikon Jewel that caused a demon's power to skyrocket. The Shikon Jewel that drove every faction in the entire series into a bloodthirsty frenzy.
The old man's voice grew lower and lower, his breathing faint.
"My... grandchild... is still waiting in the village..."
"Tell them... grandfather... is so sorry..."
His voice came to an abrupt halt. The old man's head slumped to the side, and he breathed no more.
Silence descended upon the cave.
Only Hikaru remained, staring down at the Shikon Jewel in his hand. A pale purple light pulsed in his palm, soft and mysterious.
"The world of Inuyasha..." he muttered, a dry, incredulous laugh catching in his throat. "Fate is a truly... damn... mysterious thing."
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