Chapter 13: Repelling the Demons, Facing Kikyo
"Come on!"
The Hannya-masked Oni Samurai's Yao Qi surged, its challenge echoing across the blood-soaked ground. Demonic power swirled beneath Kobe Hikaru's feet as he activated Ghost Step once more.
He didn't retreat. Instead, he shot forward, a pale blur charging directly at his monstrous counterpart.
But this time, his target wasn't the front.
It was the left side—the side with the old, festering injury.
The Hannya Oni clearly sensed his intent. Its rusted blade swept out in a vicious horizontal arc, a wall of steel meant to sever his path.
Hikaru didn't meet it head-on.
His body twisted impossibly in mid-air. The technique known as Spear-Waist Transformation contorted his torso like a coiled serpent, allowing him to flip clean over the blade's deadly edge. The moment his feet touched the earth, he was already positioned on the Hannya Oni's left.
The tip of his blade aimed straight for its left knee.
"Seeking death!" the Oni roared.
Its left leg snapped up with surprising speed, evading the thrust. The upward motion didn't stop, however; its knee rocketed forward, smashing directly toward Hikaru's face.
The blow landed squarely on his chin.
Hikaru's head snapped back, and a sharp crack splintered the surface of his own demonic mask.
But his blade never stopped.
Muramasa carved a fluid arc through the air, slicing toward the Hannya Oni's abdomen in a brutal, trade-off gambit.
The Hannya Oni's left hand shot out, catching the incoming sword with raw, desperate strength. The black blade bit deep into its palm, and demonic blood sprayed from the wound. It paid the injury no mind, its full attention focused on its own attack. Its rusted blade, already raised high, came hacking down toward the crown of Hikaru's head.
Hikaru didn't dodge. He had no intention of doing so.
His goal had never been to win this exchange.
It was to force the Hannya Oni's center of gravity entirely onto its left leg.
At this precise moment, the creature had just landed after its knee-kick. Its balance was precarious, all its weight concentrated on that one leg—the leg with the old injury. Its own blade was held high overhead in a full-blown offensive posture, completely abandoning any defense of its left knee.
That weakness. That old wound.
It was now completely exposed within Kikyo's range.
Yes. In that sliver of an instant, the priestess had finally freed herself from the lesser demons. She had raised her bow once more.
Whoosh—!
A beam of pure white light erupted from within the barrier.
This arrow shone brighter than any that had come before. The spiritual energy encasing it was blinding, transforming the simple shaft of wood and feather into a falling meteor streaking across the night sky.
The Hannya Oni's pupils contracted to pinpricks. It felt the scorching, holy aura approaching from its rear flank, a searing threat that promised annihilation.
But it was too late.
Its center of gravity was committed, its blade at the apex of its swing. Even if it wanted to dodge, its body could no longer obey.
Puchi—!
The Sacred Arrow pierced clean through its left knee.
Spiritual energy exploded at the point of impact. The white light burned into its demonic flesh like a divine branding iron.
"Ah—!"
A heart-wrenching scream tore from the Hannya Oni's throat as it collapsed onto one knee. Its left leg was completely useless, and the holy power continued to eat away at the wound, throwing its Yao Qi into chaos and preventing it from condensing.
Hikaru gave it no chance to breathe.
The rusted blade, which had been descending to cleave his skull, veered off course as its wielder fell. It grazed past his shoulder, slicing off only a few strands of his pale hair.
In the same motion, Hikaru wrenched Muramasa free from the Oni's mangled palm, the black steel slick with grayish blood.
The blade flipped.
This strike used no fancy swordplay, only the simplest, most efficient of movements: a direct thrust.
From the front, straight through the back of its neck.
The tip of the blade erupted from its throat.
The Hannya Oni's body froze. It looked down, staring in disbelief at the black steel protruding from its own neck. In the dull gray eyes behind the mask, a flicker of confusion appeared for the first time.
"You..."
It tried to speak, but with its throat pierced, only muffled, gurgling sounds escaped. All the while, the arrow wound in its knee continued to pulse with spiritual energy, which spread upward like a venomous snake, slithering through its meridians.
When the holy energy reached the blade wound at its neck, the two forces merged.
The external wound from the sword.
The internal corrosion from the spiritual power.
The Hannya Oni's body seemed to ignite from within. White light overflowed from its every pore—bursting from its eye sockets, the corners of its mouth, and even the gaps between its fingers.
The Hannya mask began to crack. Fissures spread from its forehead to its chin, and pieces of the demonic visage peeled off one by one.
The face beneath the mask was also that of a dead man—pale, withered, and marred by the sword scars that had killed him in his mortal life.
It stared at Hikaru.
Hikaru stared back.
Two Oni Samurai. One at the fifth transformation, the other at the sixth. One fighting for humans, the other dying for demons.
"Damned... traitor..."
The Hannya Oni's mouth twitched, a final, silent curse forming on its lips. But it would never have the chance to voice it.
The white light exploded.
Its body disintegrated under the purifying flames of spiritual power, turning into a cloud of ash that scattered into the night. The ashes were not ordinary remains; they drifted lightly toward the heavens, shimmering with a faint silver light under the moon. They were the last traces of resentment, now purified.
Clean. Pure. Without a hint of impurity remaining.
True purification.
Hikaru stood amidst the dissipating motes of light, feeling the lingering warmth of spiritual power in the air—a warmth utterly alien to the Yao Qi churning within him.
[Shikon Jewel: Naohi: Favorability +1]
[Current Favorability: 2 (Sprouting)]
[It conveyed a message to you: 'Well done.']
'It seems not every purification will grant a reward,'Hikaru thought to himself.'It must depend on the Shikon Jewel's mood... and my performance.'
Yet, he did not relax. It wasn't over.
His grip on Muramasa tightened as he looked up at the remaining demon horde. The One-Horned Oni, the giant python, and the Three-Eyed Crow were all staring at him, their monstrous faces etched with terror.
One of their leaders, an Oni Samurai who had achieved the sixth transformation, had just been slain. Killed by a fellow demon who was demonstrably weaker. They knew that while most Oni Samurai were muddled and brutish, they were rarely weak among demons of the same rank.
"Anyone else?" Hikaru's voice was calm, carrying easily through the sudden silence.
A restless ripple went through the demon horde.
The One-Horned Oni's expression was ugly. It wanted to order an attack, but its throat felt as if it were blocked by a stone.
Fear. This was fear.
This pale-haired Oni Samurai didn't seem overwhelmingly strong, but he was unnervingly special. They knew the capabilities of the one who had just been slain; as naturally humanoid demons, Oni Samurai were often more powerful than their peers. And then there was the priestess inside the barrier... even while holding back to protect the village and maintaining that massive shield, her power was still unfathomable.
This was a clear case of one plus one being far greater than two.
They couldn't win. They couldn't fight.
The wisdom that separated it from the lesser demons allowed the One-Horned Oni to make its judgment.
"Retreat..." it squeezed the word out with difficulty. "Retreat!"
Though the smaller demons lacked much intelligence, instinct had long been screaming at them to flee. They had only been held in place by their leaders. Hearing the order was like being granted a great amnesty, and they broke and scattered like a receding tide.
The giant python was the first to turn, its fifty-foot body vanishing into the tall grass with incredible speed. The Three-Eyed Crow flapped its wings and soared high, disappearing into the night sky in the blink of an eye.
The One-Horned Oni was the last to run. It shot Hikaru one last, venomous glare.
"You brat, remember this!"
Then it, too, fled into the darkness.
Hikaru stood his ground, watching the backs of the scattering demons.
"...That's it?"
He was, in fact, a little disappointed. Although the Shikon Jewel's favorability was inconsistent, he had been hoping to grind a bit more for Muramasa. Maxing it out right here would have been ideal.
[Demon Blade Muramasa: It feels regretful, indicating that the ones who fled looked quite delicious.]
"Next time," Hikaru murmured, patting the hilt of his sword.
He then turned and looked toward the shrine. The barrier was still up, its faint white screen of light enveloping the sacred building and the terrified villagers huddled within.
The figure on the stone steps was still there as well.
White robe and red hakama, hair like a black waterfall.
Kikyo was looking at him. Her bow was still in her hand, but the quiver on her back was empty. Half of those arrows had been used to support him.
During the chaotic battle, he'd had no time to look closely. But now, in the quiet aftermath, her figure fell into his eyes like a masterfully painted scroll. Her black hair was draped over her shoulders, a few strands blown by the night wind to rest on her chest. They lay against the collar of her white kosode, making the moon-white fabric seem even more luminous. The tips of her hair trembled with each soft breath, like dark petals floating on a clear stream.
And her face—it was cold, fair, and possessed an exquisite beauty that seemed to transcend the mortal realm. It was etched with the fatigue left by maintaining the barrier while continuously firing arrow after arrow.
But even exhausted, she stood perfectly straight. That posture wasn't a practiced elegance but something ingrained in her very blood—the almost instinctive uprightness of someone who had been protecting others since childhood.
She was like a white blade plunged into the night. Cold, yet drawing one irresistibly closer.
Hikaru looked at her, his mouth moving slightly beneath the Oni mask.
This was Kikyo.
The girl he had seen countless times on a screen in another world, three months ago, was now standing thirty feet away. She wasn't made of 2D lines and colors. She was a living, breathing person with warmth—even if that warmth was the temperature of spiritual power rather than body heat. She had breath, fluttering hair, swaying clothes, and eyelashes that cast fine, delicate shadows under the moonlight.
The real Kikyo.
More beautiful than any version he had ever imagined.
And more... stirring... than any version he had ever imagined.
'Ugh... damn this impurity, it's influencing me again,' Hikaru silently grumbled, making an excuse for the sudden flutter in his chest.
Their eyes met across the night.
Hikaru opened his mouth, about to say something. But before he could speak, a new prompt suddenly appeared on his system panel.
[Shikon Jewel: Naohi has conveyed a message to you.]
[The priestess is looking at you. She is hesitating.]
[You need to give her a reason to trust you.]
[Give me to her—that way, you will be safe. She will no longer harm you, and will even protect you.]
Hikaru looked down at the Shikon Jewel in his arms. The faint purple bead lay quietly in his palm, its light soft and mysterious.
[Inorin's Note:
Enjoying the story? Dropping a quick review, comment, or Power Stone means the world to me and keeps these daily updates flowing!
Want to read 50 chapters ahead or just want to help keep a shameless translator alive? (My livelihood actually depends on this, haha 😭). You can support me directly here:
(P.S. Just remove the brackets and replace the [.] with a regular dot . to use the links!)
✨ Patreon (50 Advanced Chapters): patreon[.]com/InorinTL
☕ Ko-fi (Support / Sponsor): ko-fi[.]com/InorinTL
Thank you so much for reading and keeping this project alive!]