The sensation after the Liver-Wood was forged was entirely different from the previous three viscera. When Heart-Fire had settled into place, it was searing heat. When Kidney-Water had settled, it was deep, heavy stillness. When Lung-Metal had settled, it was sharp, purifying clarity.
But Liver-Wood... was growth. An unrestrained, burgeoning force that spread outward from within. The four viscera now operated within his body. Fire rose, Water descended. Metal purified, Wood unfurled. Every cycle accumulated power, and every cycle leaked it at the gap.
Without the Spleen-Earth to catch the descent of Fire, the cycle was like a bucket with a hole in the bottom. But even so, the changes brought by the resonance of the four viscera were already visible to the naked eye.
Shinji looked down at his own hand. Pale. Still pale, of course. After all, it was only the projection of the Shura Form, in essence, still an imitation. But the quality of that pallor had changed. It was no longer the ashen gray of a corpse.
It was closer to the white of someone who simply hadn't seen sunlight in a very long time, and now, there was a faint tinge of flesh and blood. Beneath the skin, blood was flowing. Not an illusion simulated by yōki, but true blood circulation, carrying warmth. He tried drawing a deep breath. His lungs still did not move.
The Shura Lungs were a projection. The real lungs within his body were still dead. But the Demon's Breath activated automatically. Impure energy surged in through his mouth and nose, swirled and refined within those dead lungs, and was then expelled.
A thin layer of mist floated up from the surface of his body. The entire process was smoother than a month ago by more than tenfold. Though the internal circulation of the four viscera was incomplete, it was already operating on its own.
The Heart pumped blood. The Kidneys stored water. The Lungs refined energy. The Liver dispersed and spread. Like a body on the verge of waking.
"Almost there," Shinji murmured. He was truly just one step away now. Of the five viscera, only one was missing.
The Spleen-Earth. Once he found it, the Tenth Transformation would be complete. And once the Tenth Transformation was complete, the direction for the Eleventh Transformation's Three Souls had long been mapped.
As he had reasoned before, the Earth-attributed Demon Soul was something he naturally possessed as a demon warrior. The Heaven Soul would be granted by the Shikon no Tama upon reaching max Affection. The Human Soul required his own comprehension, but that alone was the only piece he needed.
The Eleventh Transformation, he would, in all likelihood, achieve with astonishing speed. And once the Eleventh Transformation was achieved, he could directly progress to the Twelfth Transformation and compress the Shura Form back into his original body.
He would truly come alive. From demon to ma. From death to life. Forging the theoretically most perfect quality and quantity. When that time came, many matters could finally be formally set in motion.
Just as this thought flickered past, an unusual vibration came from his waist. It was Yura's comb again. The comb's trembling was very strange. It wasn't like the jealous or coy rattling from before. It was a deep, resonant hum, carrying a certain rhythm. As though something was building up.
The System panel flickered.
[Sakasagami no Yura: She is attempting to re-manifest her form. Unlike ordinary artifacts, she is already a complete tsukumogami. She was merely suppressed by the miko's reiryoku before. Now that she has reached max Affection and fused with you, that suppression has also been released.]
Re-manifest her form? Shinji blinked. He felt as though he'd only just remembered this was even a possibility. Because Yura's comb hadn't manifested a human form in so long, he had genuinely half-forgotten.
When an artifact became a yōkai, once it accumulated enough power, it could use externally projected yōki to manifest a human shape. Yura's comb was a yōkai born from a comb to begin with. When she had first appeared, she had possessed a human form.
Though it was, in essence, only a form simulated through yōki, not a true body, it was, nevertheless, a genuine human shape. Four limbs. Skin. Tactile sensation. Only the inside was hollow. And now, with max Affection fusion, she was finally able to regain her previous state.
Hum—
The comb detached itself from his sash. It rose into the air on its own, hovering in place. The necklace of seven stones chimed against the comb's handle. Emerald light surged from between its teeth. Along with that light, a massive quantity of black hair strands, spreading and extending like vines, burst forth.
The hair poured from the gaps of the comb's teeth, spiraling and coiling in the air, forming a black cocoon. The cocoon contracted. And in the process of contraction, a silhouette gradually sharpened into clarity.
The line of the shoulders. The curve of the waist. The arc of the legs. All emerged from that mass of black hair. The final strand fell and covered the last remaining space.
Beneath the moonlight, the figure of a woman appeared before Shinji. Not tall, reaching perhaps to his chest. One could almost call her petite and delicate. Her short black hair swayed softly, the tips carrying a faint emerald sheen.
Her features were refined. Her features were small. The corners of her eyes were slightly lifted. Her lips were thin but sharply defined. She carried a natural curve that was sharp-tongued, yet hid a trace of coy sweetness within.
Black hair coiled around her body, serving as her clothing, winding from her collarbones, across her chest, and cascading down to her waist. It covered what needed to be covered. And only what needed to be covered. Through the gaps in the strands, pale skin was faintly visible beneath the moonlight.
The hollow of her waist traced a deep, shadowed curve. The contour of her hips was half-hidden, half-exposed by the cascading curtain of hair. Lines traced. Shadows deep.
She looked down at her own hands. Five slender fingers. The tips faintly tinged with green. The curve of her nails slightly sharper than a human's.
"It feels… a little different from before, doesn't it?" The girl's voice swayed as she spoke.
Indeed, it was different from before. The essence of a tsukumogami was an artifact tainted by human desire, then mixed with the impure energies of the world to become a yōkai.
Its existence was deeply connected to its original owner. And Yura's comb had originally been the hair-comb used by a noble lady of the Warring States era before her death. But now, it also carried her Affection for Shinji. Change was inevitable. Transformation was unavoidable. The only thing that remained unchanged, was her core essence. And the absolute loyalty and devotion brought by max Affection.
She lifted her head and looked at Shinji. Those eyes were ink-black, with vertically slit pupils, entirely different from a human's. One could still tell at a single glance that she was not human.
"Well? How is it?" She tilted her head. Her voice carried a pride she was struggling to suppress, and failing. "I've finally gotten you to look at me properly, haven't I?"
Shinji was indeed looking. From top to bottom. From head to toe. His gaze was calm. Within his demon eyes, there was no extraneous fluctuation.
Pretending. Though, perhaps he didn't even need to pretend. Even as he grew closer and closer to a living person, most of the time, his deadpan face had long since become second nature.
When he didn't feel like making an expression, he truly could remain utterly unmoved even if Mount Tai collapsed before him. "Not bad," he said. Yet he still gave those two words of appraisal, genuinely, from the heart. As he had always said, Shinji was ever forthright. Never affected.
The corner of Yura's mouth curved upward. Then, she took a step. A single step brought her directly before Shinji. The distance of two paces was swallowed in one stride. Her hands braced against his shoulders. Her long legs straddled his crossed knees, and her entire body descended in a single fluid motion. Her legs settled on the floorboards on either side of his waist.
The moment her weight pressed down, the curtain of black hair fell between the two of them, blotting out most of the moonlight beyond. The thing wrapped in black hair pressed against his chest.
The sensation transmitted through the gaps in the strands was cool and smooth, entirely different from normal human skin. It was more like silk. Or fine, high-quality satin. Her face drew close to his. Close enough that her breath was palpable. Close enough that within those ink-black, slit-pupiled eyes, the reflection of his crimson demon gaze was mirrored back.
"I've waited so long… I've always wanted to look at you like this, Lord Shinji." Her voice dropped low. The final syllable dragged long beside his ear. Her fingers at his waist tightened slightly. Strands of hair extended from her shoulders on their own, winding around the back of his neck and slipping past his collar into his clothes. Shinji did not push her away. Truth be told, this sensation was indeed—
BOOM.
Reiryoku.
Surging from the direction of the main hall. Reiryoku so pure it stung to the bone. It was like a bucket of ice water poured directly over his head.
Yura's entire being detonated. Her black hair exploded outward into a spherical puffball. Her manifested form collapsed like a snuffed-out flame, crumbling from a human shape into a mass of black hair, and from black hair shrinking back into a comb.
The entire process took less than half a breath.
Clatter.
The comb hit the floor, bounced twice, and rolled to a stop beside Shinji's knee. It fell utterly silent. Not a single trace of movement. As different from that seductive figure who had just straddled him moments ago as two entirely separate entities.
"…" Shinji turned his head.
The door of the main hall had opened. Kikyō stood in the doorway. White uwagi. Crimson hakama. Black hair cascading down. Her face was cold and clear, her lips faintly colored. Her expression, was expressionless. The standard, unapproachable, perfectly appropriate expressionless face of a miko.
Shinji clicked his tongue. But he wasn't flustered. After all, this wasn't the first time. Kikyō's hand rested against the doorframe. Her reiryoku had already been withdrawn.
The temperature within the hall had returned to normal. She glanced at the comb on the floor. Then glanced at Shinji, still seated cross-legged where he was, his collar slightly askew from where the strands of hair had pulled at it. She said nothing.
She turned and went back into the main hall. The door slid shut. An exceedingly soft sound, yet it rang with startling clarity in the silent night.
Shinji looked down and picked up the comb from the floor. The comb was hot to the touch. The System panel flickered a line.
[Sakasagami no Yura: She's terrifying.]
"…"
Serves you right for courting death.
Shinji tied the comb back at his waist, rose to his feet, straightened his skewed collar, and drew a breath of impure energy. Then he walked toward the main hall.