The room was cramped.
Compared to the spacious shrine hall in Kaede's Village, this empty hut felt claustrophobic.
A low table with a chipped corner, a pottery lamp with barely any oil left, and a patch of slightly mildewed tatami.
But the old man had said this was the best empty room in the village.
Shinji believed him.
Walking through the village, most of the houses he'd seen didn't even have a proper roof, let alone four intact walls.
Pop.
The lampwick sparked, the flame jumping up an inch before drooping wearily back down.
Shadows flickered across the earthen walls.
Kikyō sat on one side of the tatami, unbuckling her arm guards.
The white cords came loose, revealing the bandages wrapped underneath wounds on her fingers and wrists from drawing the bow too fiercely.
Shinji leaned against the pillar by the door, holding his sword, his gaze wandering.
The room was so small that even from a few steps away, the warmth and scent of another person filled the air.
And Kikyō smelled good.
At least, to a demon with keen senses like him, she did.
He looked down at his blade.
But out of the corner of his eye, he caught the movement.
The arm guards removed, the shrine maiden shifted her shoulders slightly. Her slightly loose white kosode slipped a little, sliding down her frame.
The collar hung slack.
The dim lamplight fell just right, catching the hollow of her collarbone.
Her skin was almost dazzlingly pale.
Below, the gentle rise and fall of fabric, constrained by cloth, pressed softly against her chest. As she leaned forward slightly to set the guards down, the fabric gapped, offering a fleeting, tantalizing glimpse of the soft mound of her breast, the shadowy cleft between them.
In her seated position, the deep red fabric stretched over her thighs, outlining their full curve. The material pulled tight against her crotch, delineating the soft swell of her mound, creating a deep, triangular outline that made Shinji's mouth go dry.
Shinji's Adam's apple bobbed.
"That old man didn't tell the whole truth," he said, breaking the strange silence that had settled over the room.
Kikyō's hands paused. She set the arm guards on her lap.
"Mm." She acknowledged without looking up, her eyes lowered as she adjusted her sleeves.
"That thing in the shrine isn't a god."
"I know."
Shinji shifted position, adjusting Muramasa so it didn't dig into his hip.
"That thing's got an appetite. Offerings. Human lives. Wants to be worshipped as a deity, but can't give up its demon nature of eating people."
Greedy. Contradictory.
The common flaw of most demons trying to take shortcuts.
Kikyō looked up.
The lamplight flickered in her dark, deep eyes.
"He knows," she said.
Shinji paused, then understood.
She meant the old man who'd led them here.
The village chief.
"He knows it's a demon?"
"He knows." Kikyō's voice was calm, detached. "But he can't admit it. If he does, the village loses its last shred of hope. Even if they're worshipping an evil demon, as long as the village can cling to survival, they'll keep bowing their heads."
That was the reality of this chaotic age. Human life was cheap as grass.
To survive, becoming a demon's dog wasn't anything unusual.
Even if they had to offer up human sacrifices, as long as the rest could live on, that was enough.
Shinji said nothing.
He thought back to the old man kneeling, begging Kikyō to 'communicate.'
Pathetic. Terrified. Clinging to a sliver of desperate hope.
Looking back now, the old man hadn't really wanted Kikyō to negotiate. He'd wanted this powerful shrine maiden to intimidate the demon, make it back off a little.
The desperate ingenuity of the struggling just to survive.
"So, what do we do tonight?" Shinji asked.
He pointed at the only tatami mat.
"Just this one. You take it?"
Kikyō glanced at the small mat, then at Shinji.
She probably remembered the strange things Kaede had said that morning. A faint blush rose on her face.
"You're injured," she said.
"I'm a demon." Shinji patted his chest. "Don't need sleep. I can stand guard all night."
"Sit here." Kikyō shifted slightly, making room. Her expression was calm, composed, but the tips of her ears were still faintly red.
Shinji didn't move.
"Too cramped."
"It's not."
Kikyō insisted.
She seemed uncomfortable with owing anyone anything, even something this small.
Shinji sighed, walked over, and sat cross-legged.
A fist's width of space remained between them.
Fabric rustled.
Her scent grew stronger.
Kikyō seemed slightly tense, her body stiff, her breathing carefully controlled.
Shinji stared at the flickering flame, his hand resting on his sword hilt.
[Demonic Blade Muramasa expresses hunger. It detects a very enticing scent nearby.]
"I'm hungry too," Shinji said suddenly.
Kikyō turned to look at him, puzzled. "The old man brought us some grain cakes earlier…"
"Not that kind of hungry." Shinji drew his blade an inch from its sheath.
Cold light illuminated half his face, and the crimson of his eyes.
"It's hungry."
"And my hands are itching."
He didn't want to spend the whole night in this moldy room, surrounded by the village's despair.
He didn't want to wake up tomorrow and listen to that old man rambling on, begging them to negotiate with a man-eating demon.
He was a demon.
He'd never been one to hold back.
And he could feel it.
"It pisses you off too, doesn't it?"
Shinji turned to look at the shrine maiden beside him, meeting her dark, deep eyes.
Kikyō blinked, startled.
Then the boy before her suddenly smiled.
She hadn't answered, but he could feel her frustration. Her hesitation.
As a powerful spiritual medium, she should exorcise demons.
As a shrine maiden, she should also purify the demon that had defiled a sacred place.
But after killing it…
What would happen to those people?
No matter what, that demon had brought a certain kind of stability to this village.
Even if it felt wrong, logic told Kikyō that the old man's approach was the correct one.
Scare it a little. That would probably be enough.
Just enough.
But still… the frustration lingered.
Letting a demon run rampant…
And the defiance? That was inevitable.
"Don't overthink it." Shinji sat up straight, his gaze shifting to the moon outside the window. "If it's an evil demon, it has to die."
"If it's a false god committing atrocities, it needs to be dragged down from its pedestal."
"As for what happens after…"
"We'll figure that out after."
Shinji stood.
The hem of his grey clothes stirred the air, making the oil lamp flicker.
"There's a saying I used to really like: 'I'll save you, regardless of what you think.' Some things just have to be done, no matter what."
"I'm going to cut its head off and give this village a wake-up call."
"You rest."
Without looking at Kikyō, he turned toward the door.
Then his wrist was caught.
Cool fingers. The slight calluses of someone who'd spent years drawing a bow.
Shinji looked back.
Kikyō was already on her feet, reaching for the vermilion longbow beside her.
"Together," she said.
She'd made up her mind. Her dark eyes were bright, shining with resolve.
Shinji looked at her hand, then into her eyes.
There was no maidenly shyness there. Only the clear, righteous determination of a shrine maiden.
"Alright." Shinji grinned. "Together, then."
Kikyō released his wrist, straightened her robes, and pushed open the door.
"Together," she repeated.