The next day dawned with lush, thriving sunlight, and Kobe Hikaru made his way alone toward Kaede's Village in Musashi Province.
Though Onigumo's appearance had stirred a certain urgency in him, Kobe Hikaru could still keep watch over Kaede's Village and Kikyo's situation at any moment, so he hadn't lost his composure over it — he could still get things done along the way.
He still wore the same gray robes, his pale hair loose, a sedge hat shadowing half his face.
Only now there was one more blade at his waist than when he'd set out.
On his left hung Onikiri, a demon blade whose blade soul had already formed — its sheath a dark red, with faint crimson light occasionally seeping from the edge.
On his right was the Sun Blade, Yomikiri.
[Current Favourability: 34]
Ever since the Demon's Breath had taken shape within him, Yomikiri's favourability had leapt straight from 18 to 32 — but after that, no matter how much yokai aura he poured in, how he tried to seep into it with the Blood-Fire Mutation, or how he 'talked' to Yomikiri, the number had stayed stuck at 32.
Like a door pushed open just a crack, only to be jammed shut again by something from the inside.
Kobe Hikaru knew exactly what that something was.
The Sun Blade's founding wish was to "slay Demons."
What it wanted wasn't sweet words, wasn't infusions of yokai aura — it wanted action.
It wanted to be held and used to truly, actually cut down a Demon.
Last night's fight had only confirmed this.
At the campsite he had made his move, using Yomikiri's blade to unleash a Demon Blossom Slash carrying his own breath — and that strike had indeed killed the vengeful Demon. The favourability had indeed climbed, rising from 32 to 34.
Still, it wasn't enough.
Not even close.
One Demon wasn't enough. He'd have to keep hunting for more vengeful Demons.
As he walked, Kobe Hikaru rested a hand on Yomikiri's sheath, feeling the deep glow within the blade — black shot through with purple, the light of Yomi.
Heavy.
The opposite of Onikiri's greed entirely — Yomikiri lay quiet in its sheath, like a stone sunk at the bottom of the Yomi river, one that would never rise again, not in a thousand years, not in ten thousand.
The panel flickered.
[Onikiri: It has opinions about how much more time you've spent holding Yomikiri than holding it lately.]
But a little reassurance was all it took to settle Onikiri.
At max favourability, permanently locked in — no matter what, Onikiri remained a hundred percent loyal to him, utterly obedient to his will.
The other thing at his waist, though, was making a much bigger fuss.
Sakasagami no Yura.
Ever since Dokuko's reverse scale had hit max favourability, this comb had been stuck at 90 without budging — and now Yomikiri had come along too,
—and it had been set off again.
Its favourability began climbing past 90.
91.
92.
The comb rattled against his belt with a clattering sound, shaking harder and more often than it ever had before.
It wasn't happy — it was anxious.
Kobe Hikaru patted the comb as he walked.
"Easy. Just take it easy."
He sounded rather amused.
But the comb shook even harder.
"Seriously, don't fret."
Clatter, clatter, clatter.
"... Fine, I'll talk with you more tonight. Don't worry, I spread my favors evenly."
[Sakasagami no Yura: Hmph!]
After that, the comb went quiet.
[Favourability: 94]
Max favourability wasn't far off now.
Wind and thunder converged into Wood; Wood belonged to the liver.
He, too, was getting close to completion.
Along the way, as always, he greeted the stones, dead trees, and wild grass beside the road, feeding each a point or two of favourability, chatting with them in passing.
Old habit.
...
At the same moment, at Demon Slayer Corps headquarters.
The seven Hashira had gathered once more.
This time the mood was entirely different from before — last time had been shock and doubt; this time, silence and gravity.
Rengoku Jinjuro knelt at the lowest seat, attending as one who wasn't a Hashira but held a Hashira's strength, his report having just concluded.
The report concerned only a single matter.
The Corps had recently sent three scouting parties toward Kyoto. Two had already sent word back — at the fringes of the yokai territory beneath Kyoto, they had indeed detected the lingering traces of Kibutsuji Muzan's presence.
Extremely faint. Extremely well-hidden.
But there, all the same.
That yokai — no, that Mister Hikaru — had been telling the truth.
Muzan was in Kyoto, hidden within the domain of a great yokai named Hagoromo-Gitsune.
Ubuyashiki Rikiya sat at the head of the hall, his clouded eyes half-lidded, hands resting on his knees.
"Word of the blue spider lily has already been spread."
His voice was as calm and even as a stone dropped into a deep pool.
This, too, was naturally the scheme Kobe Hikaru had left behind before departing.
The blue spider lily — said to be the very thing Kibutsuji Muzan had been hunting for across five hundred years. Rumor held that it was the key ingredient that could let Demons overcome their weakness to sunlight.
Kobe Hikaru had said to spread the word — spread it through Kyoto, spread it wherever Muzan might hear it.
The flower didn't need to actually exist.
It only needed to exist as a rumor.
Muzan was suspicious by nature, but the suspicious fear missing an opportunity most of all. He might not believe it, but he couldn't afford not to check.
The moment he moved, he'd expose an opening.
"From here, all that's left is to wait."
Rikiya's voice fell silent.
The hall went quiet for a moment.
The bald, burly man rubbed his rough chin. "That yokai — that Mister Yokai, I mean — where is he now?"
"Lord Hikaru has already left."
Rengoku Jinjuro answered, "He said he was heading back to Musashi Province, that he has matters of his own to see to. When the time comes, we can just send a Kasugai crow to find him."
"And the red-haired one he left behind?"
"Mister Tsugikuni is out in the back courtyard. He's—"
Jinjuro's voice caught slightly, his expression a bit stiff, or rather, awkward. "He's studying how to make my Breathing technique last a little longer."
It was hard for him not to feel awkward about it.
After so many days of training, he could still only use it a handful of times — enough to make even this young swordsman, so highly regarded within the Corps, start doubting his own talent.
The seven Hashira exchanged glances.
But no one pressed further.
Because they'd all already met Tsugikuni Yoriichi themselves and begun learning the Breathing technique, and every one of them was struggling just as much — none of them any better off than Jinjuro.
No one had any room to laugh at anyone else.
"Speaking of which, Kanae — isn't your little sister close to mastering the Breathing too?"
The oldest of the seven Hashira, old enough by the standards of this era to be called elderly, turned to look at the girl with the braided pigtails.
"Mm-hm... that girl only studied under Mister Hikaru for a few days before running off to join Rengoku on a mission, and she still hasn't woken up. It's rather troubling, honestly."
For all she said that, the braided girl still looked rather pleased about it.
Jinjuro, though, only grew more embarrassed.
"At this rate, once she wakes up, she might catch up with us — or even surpass us!"
The bald giant burst out laughing, delighted at the thought of another rising newcomer.
"But more than her progress, I'd wager she'll be more upset about missing the chance to say goodbye to Mister Yokai. If I remember right, she's more or less his disciple too."
Another Hashira teased.
Amid the easy, friendly mood—
Ubuyashiki smiled and waited patiently until they'd finished talking before he spoke.
"All right, everyone."
"Time's about up. From here, let's move as fast as we can."
He said, "If at all possible this time, let's give it everything we have and fulfill our long-held wish."
"Yes, my Lord!"
...
Meanwhile, elsewhere.
Still Kozuke Province. Still the southern reaches.
Kobe Hikaru had been walking at an easy, unhurried pace for a full day and night.
And along this very same road, another party had arrived.
Over twenty mounted riders, their banners flying bright.
Though they rode war-horses, the banners they flew weren't battle standards but plain travel pennants, embroidered with a white wild goose.
The wild goose crest.
The family crest of the Uesugi clan of Echigo.
The guards rode in neat formation, their armor polished to a shine. At the center of the column was a tall jujube-red horse, and on its back rode a woman.
She looked to be around twenty-two or twenty-three, tall and slender, dressed in a dark riding kimono cinched with a narrow sash at the waist, her lower half in a divided skirt suited for horseback.
Her hair, deep black, was tied up in a simple bun at the back of her head, a few loose strands scattered by the wind and hanging by her ears.
Her features were fine and composed, her brows and eyes bearing a strong resemblance to Uesugi Kenshin, who ruled both Kozuke and Echigo provinces — but hers held more warmth, less of Kenshin's cool detachment.
The riding posture drew her collar taut across her chest, tracing a curve that was subtle but clearly defined.
Her waist was slender, its line unmistakable even seated on horseback.
Her name was Uesugi Aya, though she could be addressed by the honorific title Gozen — Aya-Gozen.
Uesugi Kenshin's elder sister.
Known to later ages as Sentōin.
Several years older than Kenshin, she served as Kanto Kanrei overseeing Kozuke Province — the Kanrei being a core post of Japan's Muromachi shogunate, originally titled Shitsuji, renamed to its current form during the era of the third shogun, Ashikaga Yoshimitsu.
Its duty was to assist the shogun in governing the various domains — essentially the chief steward of each region.
By now the office of Kanto Kanrei existed in name only, but Aya-Gozen still upheld a measure of dignity in Kozuke Province under that title.
This journey was taking her from Kozuke Province to the Uesugi main house's Kasugayama Castle — not a long distance, but with the recent turmoil in the Kanto region, she'd had no choice but to bring extra guards.
"My Lady, it's roughly thirty li ahead to the castle town. We should arrive before dark today."
The chieftain of her escort spurred his horse forward to report.
Aya-Gozen nodded, but her gaze was suddenly caught by something at the roadside.
On the right side of the road, a gray figure had paused.
He wore a sedge hat and a straw raincoat, faint glimpses of extremely pale skin visible beneath the brim, long hair just as pale but silky smooth spilling down his back.
The figure crouched beside a squat pine at the roadside.
His hand rested against the pine's trunk, his lips moving slightly as if speaking to it.
Then he stood, walked a couple of steps forward, crouched again beside a gray stone, and pressed his palm against it.
"... Nice texture."
The low voice drifted out from beneath the sedge hat, as if he were talking to himself.
Having said it, he stood and walked on.
A few steps later, he crouched again, this time facing a clump of foxtail grass by the road.
"Looking sharp."
Aya-Gozen's brow furrowed slightly.
The twenty-some riders passed by the figure, hooves rumbling.
The gray figure didn't even lift his head.
The two parties passed each other by.
Aya-Gozen turned in her saddle to glance back.
The young man had already walked far off, his gray back growing smaller down the road, the brim of his sedge hat swaying in the sunlight.
She looked away.
She couldn't say why, but something told her that man wasn't ordinary.
Not even human, maybe.
A yokai?
And yet, somehow, that didn't feel quite right either.
"Let's go."
She gave a light squeeze with her heels, and the jujube-red horse trotted forward, merging back into the column.
Wind swept over the grass and trees along the road.
The clump of foxtail grass that had been praised as "looking sharp" swayed in the breeze.
Just a little sharper-looking than the others beside it.
____
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