The moment Shinji charged into the yokai swarm, he regretted it.
Not regretting stepping in, but regretting not counting them first.
Three or four hundred?
The hell, this was at least five hundred!
Grey-green figures flooded the landscape, instantly swallowing him up. All kinds of shrieks, roars, and howls nearly shattered his eardrums.
The stench of demonic energy slammed into him, so thick it felt almost solid, making even him, a demon warrior who didn't need to breathe, feel nauseous.
A bird-headed yokai lunged first, claws aiming straight for his face, terrifyingly fast.
Shinji sidestepped, swinging Muramasa in a horizontal arc as he moved.
The blade passed through the bird-yokai's neck without resistance.
Thud. The head flew off, spinning in mid-air, blood spraying in an arc.
The headless body lurched forward two more steps before crashing to the ground.
[Cursed Blade Muramasa: Affection +1]
No time to check the panel.
From the left, three snake-bodied yokai surged forward. Their lower halves were tangled serpent tails, their upper bodies humanoid torsos covered in scales. They lunged at him, jaws gaping.
From the right, two blue-skinned goblins swung down with bone clubs, the clubs still caked with someone's flesh and blood.
Shinji pushed off the ground with one foot, leaping high to avoid the snakes' coils.
The blade arced through the air.
Kesa-giri.
Two goblin heads hit the ground simultaneously, thudding dully into the grass.
Before he even landed, demonic energy pressed in from behind.
Shinji twisted his body in mid-air, a move nearly impossible for a living person, but a demon warrior's body wasn't bound by such rules.
He wrenched his torso, thrusting the blade tip backwards.
A centipede spirit, mid-sneak-attack, was impaled through the throat. Its multi-legged body writhed and spasmed on the blade, letting out piercing shrieks.
Shinji flicked the blade, flinging the centipede away. It crashed into a few more small fry rushing in behind it.
Four.
He counted silently, using the tip of his toe on a yokai corpse for leverage, and charged again towards the old man.
The temper line on Muramasa, slick with blood, had started to glow from red to a deep purple.
It was excited. Very excited.
With every kill, blood was devoured by the blade. With every devouring, its sharpness increased just a tiny bit.
It felt like feeding a starving beast. Each bite made it fiercer.
But Shinji wasn't sticking around to fight. His goal was clear - save the old man first, worry about the rest later.
"Move!"
He cleaved through three small yokai blocking his path. A flash of steel, three arms flew into the air, screams rising and falling.
Finally, he reached the old man's side.
Up close, the old man's condition was even worse than he'd imagined.
He was a man in his seventies, clad in a grey-white robe, hair streaked with grey, face covered in wrinkles and gore.
His left arm was gone. The entire limb had been severed by some kind of blade, leaving only a short stump below the shoulder, crudely wrapped in cloth strips. The cloth was soaked through, blood constantly dripping down.
His right hand held a mudra common to human sorcerers. His remaining arm clutched a cloth bundle to his chest tightly, holding it as if his life depended on it.
The old man clearly hadn't expected reinforcements.
He certainly hadn't expected the reinforcements to be a demon warrior.
His clouded eyes were full of wariness. The dregs of his spiritual power surged to the surface of his body, forming a thin film of light.
The film was weak, but it was still a threat to Shinji, making his skin tingle with a faint burning sensation.
This was a barrier, a basic spiritual power technique human sorcerers used to protect themselves. Shinji had seen them from a distance before.
"Don't get worked up, old man!"
Shinji shouted while blocking the yokai rushing in around them.
"I'm here to save you!"
"You're a Yukai!"
The old man's voice was hoarse, thick with wariness and distrust.
"How could a yukai possibly save anyone?"
"I know I'm a Yukai!"
Shinji sliced apart a scorpion spirit that lunged at them, about the size of a human head. Its tail stinger had nearly taken his eye out.
He replied without looking back:
"But I'm a Yukai with principles. And I used to be human! Believe it or not, it's up to you. If you don't, then I'm out of here!"
He was here to reap some benefits and, incidentally, save someone.
If the save didn't work out, it wasn't on him.
Shinji had a bit of a moral baseline, but he was just an 'ordinary guy,' not a saint. He only did what he could manage, and he definitely wasn't about to get himself killed over it.
"…"
The old man was silent for a moment.
He looked at the yokai swarm closing in around them, those grey-green figures nearly blotting out the sky.
He looked at his own spiritual power, almost completely drained.
Finally, he glanced down at the cloth bundle in his arms.
Then he sighed.
"Fine."
He dismissed the film of light. "This old man doesn't have a choice anymore!"
"That's the spirit."
Shinji grabbed the old man's arm, channeling demonic energy into his feet.
"Hold on tight. It's gonna get a little bumpy."
The next moment, he burst out of the yokai encirclement, dragging the old man with him.
The instantaneous burst speed of [Phantom Step] was pushed to its absolute limit.
The two figures moved like phantoms through the dense swarm, so fast the eye could barely follow, leaving behind only a trail of severed limbs and earth-shaking screams.
Shinji ignored the wounded yokai collapsing on the ground. He just kept charging forward.
Using the short-range teleport of [Phantom Step], he constantly changed direction through the forest, shaking off the pursuers behind him.
If he encountered a lone small fry, he'd kill it on the fly. One swing, one kill. Clean and efficient.
If he ran into a large group, he'd detour and avoid them. No need to fight head-on.
The sheer number of yokai was terrifying, sure, but they were just yokai. They couldn't organize or strategize like humans. There were plenty of gaps in their formation for Shinji to exploit.
The old man seemed to have passed out, slumped against Shinji's back. Only his remaining arm still clutched the cloth bundle tightly to his chest, as if it were more important than his life, Shinji was genuinely curious about that treasure.
Half an hour later.
In a hidden cave.
Shinji laid the old man on the ground and leaned against the cave wall, catching his breath.
Even though a demon warrior didn't need to breathe, the intense fighting and high-output use of demonic energy had drained a lot of his stamina.
He felt his body growing a bit stiff, a sign of low demonic energy.
That was rare for him.
"Cough… cough, cough…"
The old man woke up.
He coughed violently, each cough bringing up mouthfuls of blood.
Shinji watched him in silence.
He could tell. This old man didn't have much time left.
Too severe injuries. Too much blood loss. Spiritual power depleted. Advanced age.
Four fatal factors stacked together. Even a god couldn't save him now.
Looked like he'd saved him for nothing?
Well, no.
At least the weapon affection he'd gained was real.
"Why… did you… save me?"
The old man's voice was so weak it seemed to come from another world.
"Saw injustice and drew my sword to help. Is that reason enough?"
Shinji said.
The old man looked at him, his clouded eyes lifting slightly. Something flickered in them.
Surprise, maybe.
Or perhaps resignation.
And more than anything, beneath the helplessness, a decision.
"This old man... is the head of a clan of demon slayers... from a village deep in the mountains, about three miles from here..."
He forced the words out, each one seeming to take everything he had. "Those yokai were hunting me... for this..."
Trembling, he used his remaining arm to push the cloth bundle towards Shinji.
"This object... must never... fall into yokai hands..."
Hearing this, Shinji was momentarily taken aback. He hadn't expected the old man to start handing out a dying wish. But after a second's thought, it made sense.
Sure, he was a yokai, but he was one you could actually talk to.
This old man really didn't have any other options.
Shinji took the bundle.
It was very light, only about the size of a fist, wrapped in rough hemp cloth.
He opened it. Inside was a single bead.
About the size of a thumb, pale purple, round and translucent, emitting a soft glow.
The light was strange. It wasn't piercing like spiritual power, nor cold like demonic energy. It carried an indescribable quality.
It felt a little...
Familiar?
Shinji stared at the bead. The system panel automatically popped up.
[Eligible pursuit target detected.]
[Shikon no Tama]
[Quality: Divine Artifact]
[Current Status: Dormant]
[Affection: Cannot unlock. Prerequisites not met.]
Shinji stared at the words on the panel.
Then at the bead in his hand.
Then back at the panel.
"..."
His expression froze.
"Wait."
His voice trembled slightly, laced with disbelief. "What the hell is this thing?!"
The old man either didn't hear him or didn't answer. He just kept struggling to deliver his final words.
"Please... deliver this... to the village a few mountains over..."
"Give it to a shrine maiden... named Kikyō..."
"She is... the only one who can suppress the Shikon no Tama..."
"I beg... of you..."
Shinji wasn't listening anymore.
One thought echoed in his mind, over and over.
Shikon no Tama.
The Shikon Jewel from Inuyasha.
The jewel that could grant any wish.
The jewel that made yokai exponentially stronger.
The jewel that every faction in the entire series went insane over.
The old man's voice grew weaker, fading to a whisper.
"My... grandson... is waiting for me in the village..."
"Tell them... their grandfather..."
"is so sorry..."
The voice stopped.
The old man's head dropped. He had stopped breathing.
The cave fell silent.
Only Shinji remained, looking down at the Shikon Jewel in his hand.
Its pale purple light pulsed softly in his palm, gentle and mysterious.
"The world of Inuyasha, huh..."
He murmured.
Fate really is something else.