The lamplight within the main hall flickered. There was no wind. The doors and windows were shut tight. Even the burning of the candlewick could be heard with perfect clarity.
Kikyō knelt before the low table, a clay teacup cradled in her hands. The steam blurred her cold, refined features. The lines of her white uwagi and crimson hakama softened in the dim, amber light, revealing a trace of something gentle. Or perhaps, something she hadn't yet had time to tuck away. The side of her that was still a girl.
Shinji walked over and sat down across from her. The comb at his waist was deathly silent. That demon comb, which moments ago had been so brazen it wanted to straddle him and devour him whole, was now as quiet as an ordinary piece of wood.
It didn't even dare to flicker a single word across the System panel. Not a ripple of mental fluctuation. Clearly, it had been utterly terrified by that sudden burst of reiryoku.
"Drink your tea." Kikyō pushed the other cup toward him. The motion was very light. Her fingertips brushed the table's surface, making not the slightest sound.
Shinji picked up the cup. Though he now possessed a sense of taste, he had no need to eat or drink. Even with four viscera complete, he still lacked the Spleen, which governed digestion. But he still took a sip.
The water was scalding. It rolled down his throat and flowed past the phantom projection of his newly forged Shura Lungs, bringing with it a wave of genuine warmth.
"Four viscera now," Kikyō said, looking at him. Her gaze fell upon the hand holding the cup. Though that hand was still pale, the corpse-gray pallor of death had receded cleanly.
Beneath the skin, the faint patterns of blood vessels were now subtly visible. Even his nails held a faint luster that belonged to something alive.
"Heart-Fire. Kidney-Water. Lung-Metal. Liver-Wood." Shinji set down the cup and spoke openly. "Only Spleen-Earth remains. Once the Five Elements are complete, the Tenth Transformation will be achieved." He had never hidden these things from Kikyō. There was no need.
Kikyō nodded. She didn't ask where he would find the Spleen-Earth. She didn't ask what his plans were next. She simply, suddenly, reached out.
Across the low table, her fingertips caught the collar of his robes. Shinji didn't move. He looked at Kikyō. The miko's eyes were lowered. Her lashes cast a fan-shaped shadow beneath her eyelids. Her expression was as focused as if she were conducting an exorcism ritual.
The fullness of her figure pressed against the low table, sinking into a deep, shadowed curve. Then, her hand didn't withdraw. Instead, it slid upward, coming to rest at his jaw.
"Just now," Kikyō spoke. Her voice was very soft, as though afraid of disturbing the candle flame. "When she did that.... you didn't push her away."
Shinji: "…"
This was a question that could cost him his life. But he knew perfectly well that if he tried to explain himself at a time like this, the odds were high he'd be directly "purified."
"The texture was nice." Shinji chose to speak the truth. At a time like this, honesty was worth more than anything.
"It was that silken sensation of condensed yōki. Truly quite unique. And besides, Yura has helped me considerably."
Kikyō's movements paused. She lifted her eyes. Within those ink-black pupils, there was no fury. They were as calm as a lake in deep autumn. But what was pressed beneath that lake's surface, burned hotter than flame.
"Unique?" She repeated the word. Then she rose to her feet. She walked around the low table. Her white tabi pressed soundlessly against the floorboards. Her crimson hakama swayed with each step, tracing the rise and fall of her hips. Suppressed. Deep.
She walked until she stood directly before Shinji. She didn't stop. She took another step and leaned down.
This posture, was unmistakably identical to what Yura had done moments ago. Only, Yura's had been a bewitching, marrow-deep entanglement. Kikyō's was a cold, self-contained advance.
The contrast from her usual self was so stark that even the Shura Heart within Shinji's chest jolted violently twice.
"You like this, don't you? Shinji." Kikyō braced her hands on either side of him. Her long hair cascaded down and brushed against his cheek. It carried a faint scent of grass and trees.
It carried the fluffed softness of freshly washed hair. And it carried the warmth of the living. Her face drew very close. So close that Shinji could see his own reflection in her pupils. That demon warrior, wearing half a demon mask, his expression caught off guard.
"Not particularly fond of it," Shinji's throat bobbed once. He spoke honestly. "Just not averse."
"Not averse? That means you like it." The corner of Kikyō's lips seemed to curve. Exceedingly faint. Gone in an instant. Then she lowered her head. Her lips pressed beside his ear.
Her breath was warm against the shell of his ear, sending a tingling numbness through him. "Then what if it's me? Like this?"
Kikyō faced him fully. She wrapped her arms around the yōkai before her. She pressed her breasts and hips close. Pressed her fullness against him. Pressed her heartbeat against his. Thump. Thump. The Shura Heart pounded like a war drum in the silent hall.
"It's beating very fast," Kikyō said.
She smiled.
Shinji: "…"
He glanced sidelong at Kikyō, who had suddenly launched this offensive. He wasn't particularly surprised. This miko had always had this kind of personality.
As long as her heart held no confusion, she had always known exactly what she wanted to do. His peripheral vision swept past the arc of her crimson hakama pressed beneath her slender waist.
That sinuous curve and its shadow. He felt only, a stirring. What a pity. He was still one step short.
Kikyō also suddenly straightened, pulling back slightly. Her clear eyes looked at him. On that face, always so cold, utterly unruffled even before a daiyōkai, there now spread, he didn't know when, an exceedingly thin flush.
She was nervous too. She had never done anything like this before. But this past month, she had been waiting. And she had yearned to do this more than any other being in existence.
"Compared to that comb just now… how does it feel?" She asked it very seriously.
Shinji looked at her. He looked at this cool, detached girl who, at the very beginning, would blush to the tips of her ears just from holding hands, and the offensive she was now unleashing.
The contrast was truly, deeply stirring. After all, even though they had done far more intimate things, every time Kikyō took the initiative, it made Shinji's heart stir.
"It's different." Shinji raised his hand and clasped her wrist, the one she had pressed against his chest. He exerted a slight pull. Kikyō followed the motion and collapsed against him, her forehead resting on his shoulder.
The weight of her body pressed down on him. It was a real, tangible weight. The weight that belonged to life.
"She was cold. And she was false." This was not mere comfort. The forms of most mid- and lower-ranked tsukumogami were indeed phantoms of yōki, projected to house their consciousness.
Shinji turned his head, his cheek resting against Kikyō's hair. "You are warm. I'm still half-cold, half-warm right now. But I prefer the warmth. And I love you most of all. No one else comes close."
"…" Kikyō didn't speak. She buried her face in the crook of his neck. Once that forceful posture fell away, all that remained was total, absolute reliance.
"Hurry up and come alive." The muffled voice came from within his robes. "I don't want to keep holding a block of ice."
She wanted, too, to go further.
"And—"
"I believe you are destined to become the greatest great demon under heaven, breaking every chain… but even if you gather more things, more 'people' around you in the future… I must be first."
Born in the Warring States era, Kikyō was traditional, yet also strong-willed.
She could accept her beloved's excellence, could accept that there would be others around him, but on this point alone, she would not yield an inch.
What she wanted to possess, she would have the most of.
Shinji, of course, would not refuse.
"Soon," he said.
"It will be," he said.
His palm slid down her back, through the fabric of her shrine maiden robes, tracing the slender yet resilient lines beneath, then lower, slightly lifting.
Then came the press, the rubbing.
The dishevelment.
The breathlessness.
And Shinji's final words:
"I already have a lead."
Among the five elements, the spleen belongs to earth, governs transformation and transportation, and is the source of qi and blood.
To complete the inner cycle of this body, to keep the four organs from leaking at the bottom, he needed a sufficiently substantial 'earth' to bear it.
Ordinary earth wouldn't do.
It had to be at least of demonic artifact quality.
As for the 'affection' of the Kantō land, that was merely borrowed power, not integrated into himself.
To thoroughly conquer the land's affection was a prospect that could be measured in centuries.
A few points of affection for now only made the land pay a little more attention to him, not enough for it to exert itself on his behalf.
No matter how much time Shinji had, he couldn't wait that long.
There was no need to wait anymore.
He needed a true, high-quality earth-attributed medium.
And he truly had a lead.
Moreover, that thing was already in his hands.
…That greatsword, famed for its weight, the thousand-demon slayer, Banryū!
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T/n: Finally he got the permission lol, I hope it calmed down the readers who were doubting whether this really is harem.