Chapter 97: The Guardian's Watch and the Northern War
It was the third day after their return to Kaede Village.
Kikyo went into seclusion.
This was a development Hikaru had not anticipated. The blending of their spiritual power that night had affected her far more deeply than he had imagined.
According to Kikyo's own account, a subtle change had occurred in her state of mind during the process of transferring her spiritual power into his body. The change was difficult to articulate—it was as if a string that had been pulled taut for her entire life had suddenly gone slack, or a long-blocked meridian had abruptly cleared.
As had been established before, a shrine maiden's spiritual power was inextricably linked to her state of mind. The purer the heart, the purer the spiritual power; the firmer the heart, the more absolute the control over that power.
And after that night, Kikyo's power, far from weakening due to what some might call 'falling in love,' had become even more condensed and pure than before. It was further proof that Hikaru's theory was correct: her feelings for him were not a worldly distraction, but something that brought her closer to her own true heart.
But this deep shift required time to digest and consolidate.
"I need a few days of quiet cultivation."
Kikyo had said this to him just before entering her retreat. She stood at the door of the shrine's back hall, dressed in her immaculate white robe and red hakama. Her jet-black hair was tied back with a simple white ribbon, and her delicate, beautiful face held a rare and focused seriousness.
"I need to settle the realizations from that night and allow my spiritual power to stabilize completely."
"How long will it take?" Hikaru asked.
"Seven days."
He nodded, his expression unwavering. "Then leave the outside world to me."
Kikyo looked at him, and the sternness in her dark eyes melted into a deep softness.
"I have already reinforced the barrier; ordinary demons will not be able to enter." She paused, then took a paper talisman from her waist and handed it to him. "If there is an accident—crush this. I will sense it immediately."
Hikaru accepted the talisman, the paper feeling fragile yet heavy with trust in his palm. He carefully tucked it into the folds of his robe.
"Don't worry," he said, his voice a low, steady reassurance. "I'll be here when you come out."
Kikyo offered him one last, small smile. She said nothing more, turning to walk into the back hall. The heavy wooden door slid slowly shut behind her, sealing her off from the world outside.
In this era, it was common for humans with high spiritual or demonic power to enter periods of quiet cultivation. The world was a turbid place, and they needed to periodically retreat to maintain their purity and focus. The mainstream Shinto practices of Japan were a complex blend of Yin-Yang philosophy and Pure Land Zen Buddhism; the concept of 'frequently wiping the dust from one's mirror' was an absolute necessity for spiritual practitioners.
Before Hikaru's arrival, Kikyo would spend at least one or two months a year in such a state.
And so, Hikaru began his days of guarding the home alone.
To say he was 'guarding the home' was perhaps an overstatement. It was, in reality, more like his own solitary training retreat. The fusion with the Thunder Muscle was complete, but he still needed time to familiarize himself with it, to adapt to the raw power now woven into his very being. Although the might of the storm had become a part of his body, he was still a long way from wielding it with effortless precision.
Hikaru spent a great deal of time training each day.
He would go to the clearing behind the village at the crack of dawn, a lone figure against the rising sun. There, he would mobilize the thunder within his body, feeling the crackling energy trace paths through his muscles and bones. Sometimes he would deliberately suppress it, forcing the lightning to lie dormant within a single muscle group, a contained storm. At other times, he would let it erupt in an instant, testing how quickly the violet electrical arcs could sheathe his entire body in a web of destructive power.
The training was tedious and repetitive, but the results were obvious.
Besides mastering his Thunder Muscle, Hikaru's other important task was, naturally, to continue winning over his remaining demonic tools.
The Poison Jiao Scale, the Nekomata Claws, and Yura of the Hair.
These three artifacts possessed vastly different personalities, and the methods required to raise their favorability were, consequently, completely different.
First was the Poison Jiao Scale. This thing was, by far, the most difficult to deal with.
Every afternoon, Hikaru would set aside half an hour to sit and hold the dark purple scale in his palm, attempting to communicate with it.
"How's your mood today?" he asked the scale, his tone conversational.
There was no response. The scale just lay there silently, its surface occasionally weeping a faint, ethereal purple mist. But Hikaru knew it could understand him. Every time he spoke, the poisonous mist would retract ever so slightly—as if it were on guard, or perhaps, testing him.
"Stop pretending," Hikaru said, lightly prodding the scale's sharp edge with a tendril of his Yao Qi. "I know you're listening."
Still no response. But the wisp of purple mist clearly twitched.
"Do you think that as long as you play dead, I can't do anything to you?" Hikaru's tone became playful, a rare hint of a smirk touching his lips. "If so, you are dead wrong."
He pulled another item from his robe—the Nekomata Claws. He casually placed the withered, black-furred claw right next to the dragon scale.
"See this?" he said, gesturing to the claw. "This guy is much more honest than you. I pour a little demon power into it every day, and its favorability shoots right up. In another month, it'll be completely mine."
He glanced back at the scale, his tone shifting to one of boastful pride. "And you? Still putting on airs?"
When facing 'vessels' with different personalities, one had to employ different strategies. Hikaru understood this very well.
Silence. The dragon scale still didn't respond.
But the flow of the purple mist changed. It was no longer seeping out uniformly. Instead, it began to surge subtly toward the Nekomata Claws, a current of silent animosity. It was almost like… a provocation.
Hikaru raised an eyebrow. 'Is this jealousy?'
[Poison Jiao Scale: Favorability +1]
[Current Favorability: 22]
[It won't admit it, but it is indeed displeased.]
'As expected of such a sinister little thing,' Hikaru thought. 'Even its jealousy is venomous and indirect.'
He put away the scale, satisfied, and moved on to his next conquest.
By comparison, the Nekomata Claws remained the most worry-free of the lot. This thing was like a sponge that only absorbed demon power. Hikaru would pour a bit of his Yao Qi into it every day, it would accept it without fuss, and its favorability would tick up.
No interaction, no drama. Dull, but efficient.
[Nekomata Claws: Favorability +2]
[Current Favorability: 33]
[It still has no reaction.]
[Unlocked First Bond: None]
[Unlocked First Talent: Undead Affinity (All low-level undead without self-awareness will show goodwill towards you)]
"Can't you show some kind of reaction?" Hikaru muttered to the withered claw. "Even just twitching a little would be fine."
The claw remained perfectly motionless.
"…Forget it." Hikaru sighed, pocketing it.
As for the final one, Yura of the Hair—she was the first demonic tool Hikaru had obtained, and also the noisiest among the three.
"You're ignoring me again!" The tiny skull on the red comb vibrated with indignation. "I've been waiting for a whole afternoon!"
"I'm busy," Hikaru replied without looking up.
Yura was not pleased. "It's just that stinky dragon scale and that dead claw, isn't it! You only know how to hold them all day, and you don't care about me at all! I was the first one you caught! I have the most seniority! Why should they be ranked ahead of me?!"
Hikaru finally looked up, staring at the comb vibrating incessantly in his lap. He was at a loss for words. "Do you hear the things you're saying?"
Just like that, time flowed onward. Five days passed in a flash.
Hikaru's cultivation and his favorability grinding advanced steadily, and Kaede Village remained peaceful. Occasionally, a few low-level demons, blind to the powerful barrier, would wander too close, only to be dispatched with casual ease by him.
Kaede, who was being looked after by a villager's family, would bring him his meals every day and ask about her older sister's condition.
The villagers' attitude toward Hikaru was also becoming increasingly familiar and warm. The tale of him single-handedly slaying the vanguard of the Four War Gods and forcing back the demon Kidomaru that night had already spread throughout Musashi Province.
People had begun to call him the Thunder-Slaying Demon God.
Although the title sounded a bit theatrical for his tastes, Hikaru couldn't be bothered to correct them. He was, after all, a demon, and he could indeed command lightning. The name was technically accurate.
It was evening. Hikaru was sitting on the veranda of the shrine, letting his Yao Qi seep into the Poison Jiao Scale once more.
"You cooperated well today," he said to the scale. "Keep it up. In another two months, we should be ready for fusion."
The scale still did not respond, but the flow of its poison mist was clearly smoother than before.
[Poison Jiao Scale: Favorability +1]
[Current Favorability: 23]
[It still doesn't want to acknowledge you.]
[But it has already started to get used to your presence.]
The progress was faster than he'd expected. His little trick of using the Nekomata Claws to provoke it had clearly worked wonders. This sinister little fellow really did respond best to goading.
Just as Hikaru was contemplating this, his movements suddenly froze.
He lifted his head, his gaze snapping toward the north.
The sky in that direction was shrouded by a vast expanse of smoke and dust. It wasn't Yao Qi. It was… people. The distinct presence of a massive gathering of humans.
The thundering of hooves, the clatter of iron armor, the percussive snap of war banners flapping in the wind—though they were dozens of miles away, his heightened senses could capture it all with chilling clarity.
"This is…" Hikaru's brow furrowed.
A human war.
"Is it starting again?"
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