Chapter 248: Menōmaru
Mutsu Province.
The far northeastern extreme of this island realm, a land of iron-gray mountains and bitter cold, where winter came earliest and lingered longest.
Within the great hall of Kurokawa Castle, the candles burned low and dim. The daimyō who ruled this province, the head of the Date clan, Date Terumune, sat at the highest seat.
A man past forty. His face was gaunt, his cheekbones high and sharp. He wore a deep gray hitatare beneath a dark purple kamishimo. A short sword was tucked at his waist.
Before him, upon a low table, was spread a military map. It covered the entire territory from Mutsu down to Shimotsuke, from Ezo in the north to the gateway of the Kantō in the south.
Dozens of small flags marked upon it, each representing a force already sworn to the Date. The five districts of Mutsu. Southern Dewa. Aizu, held by the Ashina.
The entirety of the six northeastern provinces had, over the past two years, been swallowed or subdued one after another. Even faster than later historical records would claim, he had occupied this very fortress of Kurokawa, originally built by the Ashina clan. He was, in practical terms, the true ruler of the north. The hegemon of the northeastern provinces.
But no one called him that. Because the retainers seated within this room were far more concerned with the color of his eyes.
Lapis.
Those two eyeballs, in the candlelight, refracted a light that did not belong to humanity. So transparent they seemed like glass beads embedded within his sockets.
"Have you finished your report?" Date Terumune spoke. The retainer kneeling at the center of the hall pressed his forehead against the back of his hands and rapidly recited the battle report from the front lines.
"…The vanguard of twelve hundred crossed the border of Shimotsuke and advanced into northern Musashi. Outside Kaede's Village, they were intercepted by three hundred elite Uesugi soldiers. After that, they encountered an unknown attack. The vanguard collapsed in an instant…" His voice grew smaller and smaller.
"Unknown cause?" Date Terumune repeated those two words.
"Yes… according to the fleeing scouts, all they had time to see was lightning filling the entire sky…" As those words fell, the world went still.
In the next instant, Date Terumune reached out, picked up the teacup from the low table, glanced down at the scalding tea within, then abruptly raised his hand and dashed the boiling liquid across the retainer's face!
The retainer screamed and collapsed, clutching his face with both hands. Date Terumune rose to his feet. He drew the short sword at his waist. The blade fell. The sound was brief. Only a pool of blood remained. The other retainers within the hall lowered their heads. None dared look.
"I do not need such muddled, incoherent reports!" Date Terumune's voice was flat. Yet no one could mistake the savagery within it. No one dared speak.
"Withdraw. Do your duty well… I do not wish for such incidents to occur again!" Date Terumune spoke at last. Footsteps shuffled. The retainers filed out of the hall, their pace so quick it was nearly a run.
The sliding door closed. Only Date Terumune remained within the great hall. Along with the still-bleeding corpse upon the floor. He did not look at the body. His lapis-colored pupils had lost their focus, as though listening to some impossibly distant sound.
"…Come out," he spoke. The shadows stirred. From the dark corners on either side of the hall, two slender figures emerged soundlessly.
Two young women. One in purple. One in blue. The purple-haired girl wore a white robe beneath purple light armor. Two broad, white blades, utterly different from the thin, sharp katana of this island realm, hung at her waist. Beneath her loose, flowing hair, the corners of her eyes were lifted. Her features were exquisite and heroic. Her light armor and long robes traced the lines of a tall, athletic frame.
The blue-haired girl wore her deep blue hair bound into two buns atop her head. Her face was strikingly similar to the purple-haired girl's, yet more charming and lovely. She wore blue robes, a blue skirt, blue armor. In her hands was a red-tasseled spear, just as tall as she was. Her long boots tapped softly against the floor as she walked.
The two "people" knelt together on one knee.
"Reporting to my lord..." The purple-haired girl on the left spoke. Her voice buzzed like the beating of moth wings. "According to the final messages transmitted by the moth demons at the front, the Uesugi army was not the primary obstacle. The true hindrance… was a yōkai."
"The recent Demon God Who Cleaves Thunder. Nakai Shinji." The blue-haired girl on the right immediately supplemented.
Nakai Shinji… Hearing this name, Date Terumune, or rather, the will controlling Date Terumune, closed his eyes. The lapis-colored pupils flashed once beneath their lids, as though something was wriggling behind the eyeballs.
A thousand kilometers away. Deep within the mountains of Mutsu. A colossal spirit-body, so vast it blanketed half the valley, hovered between slumber and waking.
Menōmaru.
The son of the moth demon who had flown from the distant continent, defeated and sealed in the bitter northern lands by Tōga centuries ago.
A daiyōkai who had inherited the bloodline of his father, and also inherited his father's demonic power, and even his memories.
A daiyōkai equal to, or perhaps surpassing, Sesshōmaru. The "hegemon" who ruled the northeastern provinces, Date Terumune, was, unmistakably, under his control.
Moth demons were masters of illusion and control. Menōmaru had elevated this art to its absolute pinnacle. As the son of a daiyōkai who had come from the continent, he understood, with profound clarity, the terrifying power held by the seemingly frail race of humans.
So although his true body had only awakened recently, in truth, long ago, even in his slumber, his spirit had silently controlled the humans of the north. Under the name of successive Date clan heads, he had ruled Mutsu Province.
He had even gone so far as to create, as a backup, an exceptionally gifted half-demon offspring carrying daiyōkai blood, raised under the Date name, a vessel for a perfect spiritual host. Beyond that, he had repeatedly dispatched subordinates southward to test the waters.
Recently, as his true body gradually awakened and he successfully inherited the demonic power and memories of his father, he had begun, step by step, the consolidation and purging of the various provinces and demons of the northeast.
Until, Mount Hakurei vanished. The barrier that had blocked their path south crumbled. At last, he saw his opportunity and dispatched the vanguard of his moth legion, combined with the human armies of the north, marching south.
And now, without a doubt, the first battle had ended in defeat. For Menōmaru, who had been scheming relentlessly to march south once more, cross the Kantō, and reconquer the western provinces to avenge his father, this was an ill omen. He naturally had to investigate thoroughly.
Thus, at this moment. The consciousness of Menōmaru, returned to his true body, unfurled his vast perception. In an instant, it covered the entirety of the northeast. And then, it extended outward! In the next instant, his six compound eyes, within that phantom spirit-body, flew wide open!
Gone?!
Those demons that had been unsealed after Mount Hakurei's disappearance, the ones that should have been rampaging across the Kantō, spreading like wildfire, reducing humanity to terror, But. In a single night. All of them. Gone.
The presence of those demons had been snuffed out on the very same night. As though someone had taken an invisible pair of pliers and snipped every ember the moment it emerged from the ground.
What replaced them, was a highly concentrated, newly risen force, like a newborn sun ascending from the horizon. A force so vast and unified it made even him hesitate. Made him unwilling to continue south. Made him realize he needed far more preparation. An immense, unified osore!
At the same moment.
The Kantō. Musashi Province.
The side chamber of the main shrine hall in Kaede's Village. Shinji sat cross-legged upon the tatami. Before him was a shallow bronze basin. Within the basin was clear water, its surface flat as a mirror.
The tip of his right finger touched the water's surface. Yōki flowed through his fingertip and merged into the water. Ripples spread. Within those ripples, faces emerged, one after another.
The dark jade-green scales of the great kappa manifested first. His two-meter-tall, hulking form crouched upon the docks of Shimizu Port in Suruga. He bowed respectfully toward the water's surface.
"Master."
"In the direction of Shimizu Port, last night, we purged twenty-six named demons that had been unsealed. Among them, eleven were of the Sixth Transformation. The rest were at the Fifth Transformation. No casualties."
The great kappa's voice came through the water, deep and steady. As part of Shinji's Hyakki Yakō, Shinji had long since imparted his system of yōkai transformations to them. It allowed them to have a clear direction when enhancing themselves through osore. It also allowed them to identify enemy strength through outward appearance, rather than relying solely on the vague sensation of yōki.
Yōki could indicate the general class of a demon, but it could not represent the true combat strength between members of the same race. By combining the quantity of yōki with the number of transformations visible in their external appearance, it was, for the most part, possible.
Amidst this, the ripples shifted. The silver-white silhouette of the kamaitachi swept across the mountain ridges of western Sagami. "Mas—Sagami had twenty-three. The strongest was Seventh Transformation. Handled. I dealt with it personally." The kamaitachi spoke at a rapid, clipped pace.
The ripples shifted once more. A pair of ice-blue pupils surfaced within the water.
Oikawa. The Yuki-onna commander of the Tōno clans, stationed in northern Musashi.
Her face was astonishingly pale. Her deep blue kimono nearly merged with her white hair. Her voice was cool and clear, yet respectful.
The surname Oikawa was a name that had long circulated among the Yuki-onna clan. It was said that, centuries ago, a certain Yuki-onna's bond with a human had begun with a hunter named Oikawa.
Since then, that surname had been passed down through the generations of the Yuki-onna clan. When Shinji first heard this tale, he had thought of another world, of that Yuki-onna of the same surname who served under a certain Nurarihyon. A coincidence? Perhaps not.
"Northern Musashi. Thirty-one unsealed demons. The largest was an Eighth Transformation centipede. I froze its lower body. Then Tanuki Jūsaburō brought demons and finished it off."
The water shifted again. A round, fluffy face squeezed into view. The tanuki spirit. Tanuki Jūsaburō. The intelligence chief who had once been merely Second Transformation. Now, he had completed his fifth transformation and risen into the ranks of mid-to-high-level yōkai.
It was thanks to osore, but as long as he did not betray Shinji, his osore would never be lost. That made him a true mid-tier demon. And in the future, he would have the chance to become a true high-level demon. A true commander among demons.
"Reporting to Master, from last night until this morning, the Hyakki Yakō has purged a total of one hundred and seven demons that were unsealed by the disappearance of Mount Hakurei across the three provinces of Musashi, Sagami, and Suruga." His voice carried undisguised pride.
One hundred and seven named demons, resolved in a single night. And throughout all of this, Shinji had not even needed to lift a finger himself.
Relying solely on the demons under his command… The original Twenty-Three Demons. The forty-seven from Tōno. The thirty-three absorbed along the way. One hundred and three in total. One hundred and three demons. And this was not even the full count.
These were the named demons Shinji had designated,, the "cadres." Mid-tier demons who had achieved at least four transformations. This number alone already constituted a force of no small significance. And beneath them, there were the nearly one thousand lesser demons they themselves had gathered, or that had been drawn in by the osore Shinji had distributed to them.
One had to understand, the so-called named demons they had purged were not mere minor yōkai. They were existences with established reputations, beings who, to a greater or lesser degree, held their own osore within human society.
They were mid-tier demons of at least five transformations or more. In this land of the Kantō, an organization capable of suppressing over a hundred named demons in a single night, besides his Hyakki Yakō, there were perhaps only two forces that could achieve such a feat: Uesugi Kenshin's fully assembled legion of divine artifacts, or Takeda Shingen's entire military might.
But the Uesugi army relied on humans, a force of at least a thousand soldiers, multiple warrior maidens, and Kenshin herself personally commanding them, only then could it possibly be done.
Shinji had used demons. And he himself had not lifted a finger. This was, in fact, the very reason why there had been no demon reinforcements at Kaede's Village when the northern army and its demons had attacked.
Beyond Shinji being able to arrive in time, it was also because all his other demons were occupied, suppressing the demons causing chaos across the land.
[Kantō Earth: Current Affection 7 (Satisfied)]
The Affection that had previously shifted had now climbed once more. And this time, it had risen by five points in a single leap.
"From this point on, return to your respective positions. Do not harass the common folk." With these final orders issued, Shinji withdrew his fingertip.
The water's surface returned to stillness. His gaze then fell upon the bottom of the bronze basin, where a folded slip of paper still rested. It had been delivered last by Tanuki Jūsaburō.
Yet it was no "battle report." It was a letter, sent from the distant Chūgoku region, passed through many hands before arriving here. He picked up the slip and unfolded it. The handwriting was so sloppy it looked as though it had been written with claws dipped in ink.
Traces of yōki lingered between the strokes. Shinji recognized the style at a single glance. Nurarihyon. The letter was very long. But stripping away the worthless boasting, the general gist was this:
In the central provinces, he had subdued high-ranking demon commanders such as the Ushi-oni, the Mokugyo Daruma, and the Crow Tengu. Then he had wandered through the central provinces and clashed with the Hyakki Yakō of a young demon commander there, Inugami Gyōbu-Danuki.
After that, they had joined forces to slay the daiyōkai Gakusanjin, who had been awakened and corrupted by the demons of Kyōto. Compared to Shinji's own feats, the experiences of Nurarihyon, who, in later ages, would successfully become the Lord of the Chimimōryō, were, at this moment, equally magnificent.
The daiyōkai Gakusanjin required no elaboration. A mountain-like existence of terror, his yōki so vast it could produce wide-ranging crystalline rain. Unskilled in combat, yet possessing an astonishingly colossal form. And it also appeared to be connected to Nue. Had he also made a move over there?
But to be able to defeat such an existence, even with the cooperation of another demon commander, was proof enough of Nurarihyon's formidable strength. As expected of one who would later contend for the title of Lord of the Chimimōryō.
Yet his rate of growth was far slower than Shinji's. From Shinji's current vantage point, when they had first met, Nurarihyon had already possessed yōki reaching, or even surpassing, the level of an ordinary Eleventh Transformation.
With the foundation of an ordinary demon, a single year was, in truth, insufficient for much advancement. Even so, the subordinates under him now were truly as numerous as clouds.
The Ushi-oni. Also known as Ushiwakamaru of Nejire-yama. He had once been human, a disciple of the Heian-era temple of Hieizan. When his mother was devoured by a bull-headed, spider-bodied demon of Nejire-yama, he had, in his fury, perished alongside the creature.
After death, he had transformed into a bull-headed demon, often leading his followers down the mountain to rob the rich and aid the poor. His deeds had spread widely through human society. His ghost story never ceased, condensing a formidable amount of osore.
Having existed for centuries, his yōki was naturally not weak. In Shinji's memory, he was, without a doubt, the second-in-command of martial force within the Nura-gumi. And perhaps, in the future, the one closest to becoming a daiyōkai within the Nura-gumi, besides its leader.
According to the letter's description, Nurarihyon had fought him for three days and three nights before finally subduing him. And then there was the Mokugyo Daruma, a tsukumogami born of a wooden fish. Transformed from a mokugyo that had been soaked in the Buddha-Dharma for long ages, it possessed profound Buddhist wisdom.
Though its martial strength was not particularly high, it should command the vow-power and hōriki of a monk. It, too, was a high-ranking demon commander not to be underestimated.
And the Crow Tengu of Mount Takao… Every single one was a demon of considerable renown, holding no small amount of osore. By Shinji's classification, they were all demon commanders of the Eighth Transformation or above.
The current Nura-gumi, though not yet at the full strength of its golden age, was in no way inferior in quality to Shinji's own forces. It was, by any measure, a formidable faction. And Nurarihyon, who bore such a Hyakki Yakō upon his back, could never be weak.
In the end, he had directly proposed a wager with Shinji. 'From the looks of things, both you and I share the same goal, don't we? To become the Lord of the Chimimōryō.'
'Then let's make a bet, whoever enters Kyōto first shall be the Supreme Commander of all demons under heaven.' '
What do you say?'
At the end of the slip was drawn a self-portrait of a Nurarihyon, a pipe dangling from his lips, a grin so infuriating it practically begged to be punched.
Shinji finished reading and folded the slip away into his robes. His crimson demon eyes gleamed faintly in the dim side chamber.
In the stillness, a familiar weight suddenly pressed against his back. Yura's comb had, at some unknown moment, restored her human form and draped herself over him. Her short black hair, its ends gleaming with an emerald sheen, brushed against his shoulder.
Her exquisite, petite face leaned close to his ear. Her ink-black, slit-pupiled eyes stared at the water screen. Her delicate frame shifted and settled. Her full weight pressed down. The curve of her waist sank deep between them. Pale arms slipped beneath his armpits. Ten fingers rested against his chest. And then, quite unsubtly, began to wander lower.
On her face, however, she feigned utter innocence, leaning her head over to glance at the paper. "Who wrote it?"
As an aside, Yura's comb, a tsukumogami who had already achieved the Sixth Transformation, was also counted among the Hyakki Yakō under Shinji's command. As a max-Affection tsukumogami, she was also… slated to be part of Shinji's inner circle.
"An old acquaintance," Shinji replied, catching that wandering hand and pressing it back into place.
"You have demon acquaintances?" Yura's comb was greatly astonished. Her hand, however, remained thoroughly unrepentant.
"…Obviously." Shinji rose to his feet. Yura's comb was yanked off balance by his movement. Her black hair instinctively coiled around his arm to steady herself, her mouth muttering something about "at least warn me first."
He walked to the door of the side chamber and slid it open. Night had settled over Kaede's Village. The canopy of the Sacred Tree cast an immense shadow beneath the moonlight.
To the north, the campfires of the Uesugi army were faintly visible. The white banner with the black character for Bi swayed in the night wind. The presence of the Hyakki Yakō stretched across the vast expanse of a thousand kilometers of earth—=, an invisible web.
Seven provinces. Suruga. Tōtōmi. Mikawa. Musashi. Sagami. Owari. And even the borders of Mino, already within the sphere of Imagawa influence. His demons were scattered throughout them all.
The veins of osore converged from every direction.
The first to enter Kyōto shall be king. Shinji gazed at the western skyline. Kyōto. The daiyōkai Hagoromo Gitsune was there. Kidōmaru, her subordinate, was there. Other daiyōkai, like the Tsuchigumo, were also there. And the Onmyōryō. Nue. And more existences that had yet to reveal themselves. And that residue of the Celestial Immortal Elixir, which he was absolutely determined to retrieve. It was all there.
"Nurarihyon…" he murmured to himself. "You will lose."
Though, at the very beginning, Shinji had never harbored any thought of becoming the Lord of the Chimimōryō, at the time, his strength had been meager, and he had stood alone.
But now, he had a faction. He had power. And his enemies were all gathered there. In that case, he didn't mind walking up to take in that view himself. As they said, life… demon life, was always about striving upward!