That night, half the sky over Musashi Province lit up.
That purifying arrow, the one that had blasted the Kamaitachi to smithereens had made one hell of a statement. It didn't just wipe out every trace of demonic aura for ten miles around.
It also lit a beacon that the entire chaotic era couldn't ignore.
…
Kyoto.
The heart of Japan, the center of the realm.
Near the palace gates, right in the middle of Tsuchimikado Avenue.
This was where the Onmyōryō stood, the Bureau of Yin and Yang, the dark underbelly of Japan's power structure.
And right now,
Inside its walls,
Atop a towering observatory platform.
The morning wind carried a biting chill.
An old man in pristine white hunting robes was fiddling with an armillary sphere that had been passed down from the Tang Dynasty.
His hair was streaked with grey, and the bags under his eyes were heavy, the telltale sign of a lifetime spent staring at the stars through the night.
The bronze orb of the armillary sphere spun in his hands, then suddenly ground to a halt.
"It's off," the old man said.
A young onmyōji nearby, holding a ledger to record celestial phenomena, leaned in. "What's off? Another daimyo gearing up for war?"
"War's nothing," the old man scoffed.
He pointed toward the northeastern sky.
According to their observations, that region should have been shrouded in darkness. But now, it glowed with an unsettling, pallid light.
"Something's surfaced in Musashi Province."
"A great demon?"
"Worse than a great demon." The old man reset the armillary sphere, his face grim and strained. "That's a 'Pattern.' Something that can alter the very ley lines of a region. Happened once before, centuries ago. That shrine maiden, the chosen one, 'Midoriko' was behind it."
The young onmyōji's brush froze mid-stroke.
Midoriko.
A taboo subject within the Onmyōryō.
A rogue miko from outside the system who had made them, the elite, blue-blooded official onmyōji look like fools. And to top it off, she'd left behind that headache-inducing Shikon Jewel.
And now, the old man was clearly talking about that same jewel.
"But… hasn't that thing always been safely guarded?"
"Who knows." The old man grunted, staring at the fading white light. "A purification force of that scale, coming from that direction, if it's not the Shikon Jewel, I don't know what else it could be."
"But… whether this is a blessing or a curse remains to be seen. We'll keep watching."
The young onmyōji nodded and made a note.
The old man gazed at the horizon, his expression deeply troubled.
Troubled times bred monsters.
But if that monster was too powerful, everyone was in for a rough ride.
And let's be real,
Kyoto wasn't exactly a peaceful place itself.
…
Elsewhere.
Still in the capital region, but deep underground, lay a lavishly decorated chamber.
No moonlight reached here. Only the flicker of oil lamps, their flames crackling softly.
The air was thick with the scent of blood.
Behind layers of heavy curtains sat a woman.
A twelve-layered ceremonial robe, fit only for noblewomen of the age, spread out around her, now stained with dark, splattered blood.
In her hands, she held a lacquerware plate. On it rested a freshly extracted liver, still steaming, torn from some unknown living creature.
"It hurts," the woman murmured.
She shoved the liver into her mouth, swallowing it without chewing, then clutched her stomach, her brows knitting together in pain.
"Lady Hagoromo?" A hunched, wizened little man knelt outside the curtains. He had an oversized head that made him look like a comical gourd.
"That light. It stings." The woman gestured vaguely eastward.
Even through layers of earth and stone, she could feel it.
A scorching heat that threatened to burn away all impurity.
It made the 'child' in her womb deeply uncomfortable.
"It's coming from Musashi Province," the little man said, prostrating himself. "Some reckless fools are stirring up trouble over there, seems like over that jewel."
"The jewel… the Shikon Jewel, is it? So those fools couldn't keep it hidden forever."
The woman extended her tongue to lick the blood from her lips.
It was forked. Like a snake's. Or a fox's.
"That jewel is precious. It'll help my child grow faster."
"But that light… I despise it."
Behind her, nine black tails flickered in and out of the shadows, thrashing against the floor in agitation and leaving deep cracks in the solid stone slabs.
"Find out what's going on," the woman commanded.
"If it's the real thing, take it. If someone's just showing off a fake…" She smiled, revealing two sharp fangs.
"Then we'll eat the one holding the jewel along with it."
"Give my child some nourishment."
"As you command, Lady Hagoromo."
The little man bowed his head even lower.
In the darkness, countless eyes flickered open, the hundred demons lurking in the city's shadows.
They were waiting.
Waiting for the being growing inside the womb of the figure before them, the one called 'Hagoromo.'
Waiting for the 'King' destined to return to the world.
…
On the Tōkaidō road, a modest open-air tea stall.
The owner was busy wiping down tables, muttering curses under his breath.
"The world's gone mad. That racket last night spooked my donkey so bad it won't even eat."
In the corner sat a young man.
His golden hair was swept back, an extremely rare color. In this day and age, that either meant he was a foreigner from across the sea, or something else entirely.
Not to mention, his hair seemed to float, spreading out like the curve of a scythe.
He wore an expensive-looking striped kimono, like a noble, but carried no katana, the noble's favorite status symbol, just a tobacco pipe tucked into his obi.
Several empty plates sat on the table in front of him.
The young man tilted his head back, staring at the eastern sky.
"Hey, boss. What's that?" He pointed at the lingering white glow in the distance, where a few scattered clouds looked like mottled brushstrokes on a painting beneath its light.
"How should I know?" The owner didn't even look up. "As long as it doesn't mess with us common folk, I don't care."
"Fair enough." The young man took a drag from his pipe and blew a smoke ring.
"Still, looks like quite the fight."
He could tell.
There was the scent of wind in that light, the signature of a Kamaitachi. He knew that particular demon; he'd once tried to recruit him, but got turned away before he even got close. That violent, surly aura was unmistakable.
And now, it seemed… that guy was dead?
"Interesting." The young man stood up and stretched, his joints popping audibly.
"I was just thinking this trip was a bust for finding decent company. That demonic energy mixed with that terrifying spiritual power over there… that's interesting too."
He started walking.
The owner kept wiping his table, completely oblivious that his customer had slipped away.
It wasn't until the young man was a good hundred feet down the road that the owner finally snapped to attention.
"Hey! Sir! You haven't paid!"
The owner ran outside, only to find the road completely empty. Not a soul in sight.
"Damn ghosts…" The owner rubbed his eyes.
He'd been sitting right there a second ago.
From beneath the shade of a tree, the young man glanced back, a cocky grin spreading across his face.
Dining and dashing.
It was a skill of his. A little bit of the "awe" he left behind.
Smooth and unseen.
"Musashi Province, huh…" He tucked his pipe back into his obi and set off at a brisk pace.
"Might as well check it out. Maybe I'll find someone worth adding to my future Hyakki Yakō."
…
Musashi Province, a small village.
Shinji's expression shifted slightly as he looked up at the fading trail in the sky.
He didn't need to think hard to know last night's commotion had drawn plenty of attention; the monks, the priests, the onmyōji of this era, not to mention every demon big and small, would all be circling.
But that didn't really matter.
As long as he had Kikyō, plus his own support,
Shinji was confident that unless they ran into a truly major demon lord, they could hold their own and get out clean.
And right now, that wasn't even the main concern. The main concern was...
He looked at the large pot in front of him.
A wild chicken was simmering inside, bubbling away, the aroma filling the air.
Kaede crouched nearby, drooling, while Kikyō fed kindling into the hearth.
After fighting all night, hunger was inevitable.
"Almost ready?" Shinji asked.
Sure, he had Bloodthirsty Immortality, he didn't need to eat. But if he had the choice, he'd still prefer normal food.
He was a Yokai. He was a ghost.
But his mind was still human.
Desire included the desire to eat. Not just to survive, but to enjoy.
"Almost," Kikyō replied without looking up.
Sunlight streamed through the window, illuminating her freshly cleaned white robes until they seemed to glow.
Shinji leaned against the pillar, watching the scene.
The world was vast.
Troubles were many.
But at least in this moment,
That pot of chicken soup smelled pretty damn good.
Since crossing over until now,
He rarely had moments this peaceful.