The forest of bones stood grim and dense, the lightning not yet spent.
Yet Imagawa Yoshimoto seemed not to see those lethal dangers at all. Lifting the ornate, elaborate hem of her jūnihitoe, she trod across the blood-mired grass, step by step, until she stood before Kōbe Hikaru.
Too close.
Close enough that Kōbe Hikaru could smell the thick incense that clung to her.
This Lord of Suruga Province, who looked no more than sixteen or seventeen, had skin so excessively pale from a lifetime of pampered luxury that in the afternoon sun it seemed almost translucent.
Her wide sleeve slipped down, revealing a wrist so slender it looked as if it might snap at a single bend.
The layered folds of her collar bound tightly around her neck, making her face seem no larger than a palm.
Light, simple makeup set off the delicate, pretty features of a young girl.
Though she faced a yōkai of appalling, terrifying aspect, her face held nothing but excitement.
She tilted her head back, gazing up at Kōbe Hikaru in his crimson oni mask.
No fear.
Only a fervor, as though she had laid eyes on some rare and priceless treasure.
"Lord Demon God Kōbe Hikaru."
Imagawa Yoshimoto's voice was soft and syrupy, carrying the drawn-out lilt peculiar to the Kyoto kugyō. "At last, I see you again."
Kōbe Hikaru looked down at her.
Behind him, the tanuki spirit had already been so frightened that it had bent the flagpole clutched in its arms, and the one-eyed little monk had shrunk back into his umbrella, trembling.
The aura this woman gave off was, in a certain sense, even more unsettling than that of the maiden warrior wielding the divine artifact.
"So it really was to find me that you started this whole war?"
Kōbe Hikaru spoke, his voice muffled and cold behind the mask.
"Of course."
Imagawa Yoshimoto smiled until her eyes curved into crescents. "To meet you, I went to the trouble of bringing two thousand men out to this desolate wilderness to catch the wind."
She stretched out her hand, pointing at the group of trembling little yōkai behind him.
"You, leading these little fellows about—are you looking for a place to settle down?"
Seen through at a glance.
This woman was nothing like the fool rumored in later ages, the one good only for kicking a ball.
Kōbe Hikaru did not deny it. "Yes."
"Then come to my Suruga."
Imagawa Yoshimoto flung her arms wide, her broad sleeves spreading open like butterfly wings.
"I have castles. I have a Shrine to enshrine you. I have countless treasures and lands. So long as you nod, I would not mind giving you the faith of Suruga—no, even the faith of all the realm under heaven."
She stepped forward, until she was almost pressed against Kōbe Hikaru's bone armor.
Those eyes blazed, hiding nothing.
The Takeda clan had their monster of Fudō Myō-ō; the Uesugi clan had their madman of Bishamonten.
"My Imagawa clan ought to have a true 'Demon God' as well."
"Come, Kōbe Hikaru."
"Be my blade. Be my god."
"Together with me, unite this realm under heaven!"
The wind died.
The battlefield fell into dead silence.
Two thousand Imagawa troops, fifteen hundred Hōjō troops—all of them heard this confession that could only be called insane.
Courting a yōkai... no, proposing an alliance?
And willing even to stake the faith of an entire province as the price.
Kōbe Hikaru looked at her.
He had to admit—the offer was tempting.
If all he wanted was a place to settle these little yōkai, then Suruga was indeed a fine choice—at some distance from Musashi Province, all the better to support one another and less easily wiped out in a single net.
But—
"Hold it!"
A cold shout cut off Imagawa Yoshimoto's one-woman show.
The clatter of hooves broke through.
The formation on the northern side split apart, and a lone rider came galloping in a cloud of dust.
It was Hōjō Ujiyasu.
This Lion of Sagami wore frost across her face now, her long hair bound into a tail at the back of her head, whipping wildly with the jolting of her mount.
The plates of armor at her chest heaved violently with each breath, tracing a figure that, though not full, was extraordinarily taut.
Her legs, beneath her hakama, gripped tight against the horse's belly. She reined in three zhang away, looking down at Imagawa Yoshimoto from on high.
"Imagawa Yoshimoto, what madness is this?"
Hōjō Ujiyasu's voice was cold as shards of ice. "Running onto my territory to poach my man?"
"Your man?"
Imagawa Yoshimoto covered her lips and laughed lightly, her gaze flickering. "Hahaha, what a funny joke—little sister Ujiyasu, you mustn't speak so carelessly. Since when did this Lord Demon God become your man? From what I just saw, he nearly cleaved your army in two."
She bit down hard on the word "little," grinding it out until Hōjō Ujiyasu ground her teeth in fury—yet she could only draw a deep breath and force down her anger.
"He stands upon the soil of Musashi Province."
Hōjō Ujiyasu swung down from her horse, her movements crisp and clean.
She strode to Kōbe Hikaru's other side, squaring off against Imagawa Yoshimoto.
She detested trouble to the extreme; she detested risk.
But she detested even more having things snatched away by others.
Especially snatched away by Imagawa Yoshimoto.
Even if the thing did not, in truth, belong to her at all.
She looked toward Kōbe Hikaru.
That figure who had saved Odawara Castle in her dream now stood right before her eyes.
Though he wore a mask, though his whole body radiated an uncomfortable aura of blood and thunder—
that was her dream.
Her benefactor from the dream!
"Demon God... Lord Hikaru, is that right?"
Hōjō Ujiyasu spoke, her tone stiff, with a trace of awkwardness. "That business last time... though it was in a dream, it seems it truly happened."
"I, Hōjō Ujiyasu, do not owe debts of favor."
"If, as this fellow says, you want to settle these..."
She shot a glance at that ragtag band of scraggly little yōkai, and the corner of her mouth twitched.
From a distance earlier she hadn't seen clearly; now that she was close, she realized with a start that these fellows really were—weak.
"...these things."
"Whether Sagami or Musashi Province, take your pick."
"Village or mountaintop—only say the word, and I, of the Hōjō clan, will carve out the territory for you."
She lifted her chin, glaring provocatively at Imagawa Yoshimoto.
"Want a Shrine? My Odawara Castle can build one too."
"Want to be enshrined? My Hōjō clan is no shorter of coin."
"You want the realm under heaven?"
Hōjō Ujiyasu sneered. "Better to keep watch over the Kantō with me than to throw in with this woman who only knows how to paint her face."
The scene grew awkward for a moment.
Or rather—bizarre.
Two women standing at the very summit of power in the Kantō were, at this moment, haggling over the ownership of a single yōkai like housewives fighting over cabbages at a market.
Kōbe Hikaru stood between them.
The Sakagami Ketsura in his grip was already juddering so hard it seemed about to fall apart—clearly ranting madly at this Asura-arena of a situation, spitting out venomous quips one after another.
Kōbe Hikaru was rather at a loss for words.
He did indeed need power; he needed allies.
But at the outset, he had actually come only for the Hōjō.
The Imagawa, after all, did not rule Musashi Province, and had not figured into his considerations at all.
He truly had not expected that these two daimyō would tear off their masks and go at each other right here before their armies, all for his sake.
But—Kōbe Hikaru was not the least bit flustered.
He was instead pondering how to make use of this situation, how to maximize his gain—
Boom. Boom. Boom.
And it was at that very moment.
As the two armies all around stared at one another in bewilderment.
The ground, all of a sudden, began to tremble!
It was not the war drums of either army.
It came from the west, from behind that unbroken stretch of hills.
Heavy. Oppressive.
Like the footfalls of some colossal beast.
Hōjō Ujiyasu and Imagawa Yoshimoto both changed color at once.
They knew this rhythm all too well.
It was cavalry.
It was... the strongest, the sharpest of this age—heavily armored cavalry!
"Kai..."
Hōjō Ujiyasu's pupils contracted.
The next second.
A great banner, crimson as blood, rose slowly from the hill to the west, behind the Imagawa clan's rear.
There was no family crest upon the banner.
Only four pitch-black characters, dancing wildly in the wind, breathing a mad fervor as if to burn the whole realm to ash.
—Fūrinkazan.
Takeda!
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