Sunlight filtered through the gaps in the treetops, casting mottled fragments of light.
The mountain path before the shrine was quiet. Deathly quiet. Only the sizzle of burning hair and Yura's frightened breathing broke the silence.
That purifying arrow stood three inches from her foot, its fletching still vibrating. The spiritual light, more dazzling than the sun, had scorched a small pit in the earth.
Shinji had completely released his hold.
He stood up, brushing the dust from his clothes. His movements were slow, unhurried, as if he hadn't just been pinning a female demon beneath him.
Yura still didn't dare move.
Her pinkish vertical pupils were fixed on the shrine maiden in the distance. Her body trembled slightly.
Kikyō lowered her bow-hand. Her white robes and red hakama stood unwavering in the breeze.
She didn't look at the demon on the ground. She looked only at Shinji.
Her gaze seemed calm.
But…
"Can you get up?" she asked.
Her voice was flat, emotionless.
Shinji flexed his wrist. "Not hurt. Just… that hair was a bit clingy."
"Clingy." Kikyō repeated the word.
Her gaze swept over Shinji's chest, where a few strands of severed black hair still clung.
"Indeed clingy," she said. "Clung very tightly."
"…"
Shinji paused.
He got it.
This shrine maiden was unhappy.
No expression on her face, those dark eyes like still water, but the atmosphere around her was distinctly low-pressure.
Good thing.
By now, Shinji had figured it out. He wasn't panicked.
His emotional intelligence wasn't low. He could read what Kikyō was thinking.
And when there was something to explain, he would.
"It was tactical," Shinji explained. "She can manipulate her hair to absorb demonic aura. Only close-quarters grappling could cut off her options. Just now was to—"
"To subdue the enemy," Kikyō interrupted, her tone excessively calm.
"I know."
"Then you…"
"I just think..." She turned away, no longer looking at him, her gaze settling on the distant mountains. "You should change your clothes."
"They're dirty."
One word.
Crisp. But it felt like chewing ice.
Shinji shut up.
At times like this, explanation was just covering up, and covering up was fact.
He turned to look at Yura on the ground.
This hair-manipulating female demon was still slumped there, her dark red outfit even more disheveled from the earlier struggle. Her collar was wide open, revealing ample cleavage. With her frightened little face, she did look somewhat pitiful.
But neither the human nor the demon present were buying it.
"Stop pretending." Shinji picked up Muramasa from the ground, its tip pointing at her nose. "Show your true form."
Yura bit her lip, her eyes darting around.
"I don't know what you're talking about… I'm a demon. This is what I look like…"
"Still pretending?" Shinji smiled. "When I had you pinned, I felt it."
Yura's face flushed bright red. She instinctively covered her chest. "You—you pervert!"
Shinji: "…"
She was still playing dumb.
The atmosphere around Kikyō dropped even further.
Shinji felt a chill run down his spine and quickly added: "I felt the source of your demonic aura."
"A comb, right?"
Yura's expression froze.
That was her weak spot.
She was a demon born from a comb. That comb was her life-gate. Destroy it, and she would scatter.
"How… how do you know…"
"Blood." Shinji pointed at the faint red mist still lingering in the air. "My blood mist already seeped inside. That comb is now covered in my scent."
"All I have to do is think..." He made a fist. "And demon-fire will ignite on your true body."
"No!" Yura cried out.
She stopped pretending. Stopped acting.
Her body began to grow transparent, like melting wax.
Countless strands of black hair retracted, burrowing into a clump of bushes nearby.
A moment later.
A red comb fell to the ground. Ancient in form, its teeth like fangs.
That was Yura's true body.
Shinji bent down and picked up the comb.
Its teeth clacked in his hand, as if begging for mercy.
[Yura's Comb]
[Quality: Demonic Artifact]
[Current Affection: -30 (Hostility, Fear, Humiliation)]
[Evaluation: A comb used for the hair of the dead. It gained consciousness from absorbing too much resentment. It's now both afraid of you and hates you.]
Shinji raised an eyebrow.
Still negative thirty affection… In a way, that was deep-seated hatred.
But it didn't matter.
Shinji turned the red comb over in his hand.
The texture was smooth, warm to the touch. Like jade, but with a hint of bone.
"So this is your true body?" he asked.
The comb didn't speak, but the little red skull on it opened its mouth and spoke in Yura's voice.
Muffled, with a sob.
"Let me go…"
"Don't squeeze so hard… you'll break me…"
Shinji: "…"
That sounded so wrong.
"You got it?" Kikyō walked over.
She stopped three paces away, not getting too close.
Her gaze fell on the comb in Shinji's hand, her brow slightly furrowed. "This is that demon?"
"Yeah." Shinji held out the comb. "Want to see?"
Kikyō took half a step back.
"No need," she said.
"Dirty."
Again with that word.
Shinji sighed inwardly.
He tucked the comb into his robe.
"Let's go," he said. "This thing might be useful to keep. Could use it to brush my hair later."
Kikyō looked at him.
Her expression was complicated.
Like she was looking at a hopeless case.
"That's a comb from the dead," she reminded him.
"I am dead," Shinji said, unconcerned.
He adjusted the Hiraikotsu on his back and strode forward. "Let's hurry. Need to get this back quickly."
Kikyō stood still.
She watched Shinji's back.
That grey figure, carrying a giant bone boomerang, with a demon-turned-comb tucked in his robe, and a bloodthirsty demon blade at his waist.
No matter how you looked at it, he didn't seem like a proper person.
But…
She looked down at her own hand.
When she'd drawn the bow earlier, her fingers had been tense.
Her heart had been unsettled.
Because that female demon had gotten too close?
Or because… he hadn't pushed her away?
"Hah—" Kikyō exhaled softly, pushing those chaotic thoughts aside.
She was a shrine maiden. Her heart needed to be still.
"Wait." She called out and followed.
Her steps were faster than usual. She overtook Shinji, walking ahead.
Her back was straight, her black hair swinging behind her.
Shinji thought for a moment.
Still not over it?
He quickened his pace to catch up.
"Kikyō."
"…"
"That arrow of yours was really accurate."
"…"
"Seriously. Without your arrow to intimidate her, that comb demon would have definitely tried to run."
"…"
"Are you angry?"
Kikyō stopped walking.
She turned around. That cool, beautiful face showed no trace of anger.
Only calm.
"No," she said.
"I was just thinking."
"About what?"
Kikyō's gaze dropped to the spot on his robe where the comb was tucked. "When you use that thing to brush your hair later,"
"Remember to stay far away from me."
With that, she turned and continued walking.
White robes, red hakama, swaying gracefully.
[Shikon Jewel · Pure Spirit: Affection +1]
[Current Affection: 50 (Trust)]
[It sends you a message: 'She's jealous.']