The flames still burned. The toad's corpse crackled and popped in the fire, fat exploding, black smoke rising.
But the villagers had already lost interest.
They crowded around Shinji and Kikyō, a jumble of grateful voices.
Some knelt and kowtowed.
Others hugged their children and wept.
Still others rushed into their homes, dug out cured meat they'd hidden for years, and tried to force it upon their two 'saviors.'
It was as lively as New Year's.
Shinji stood still, letting the villagers mill around him.
He said nothing. His gaze was fixed on one figure in the crowd.
The hunchbacked village elder.
The old man stood at the edge of the crowd, his face devoid of any joy.
His murky eyes stared at the burning flames. His lips trembled slightly, as if he wanted to speak, but couldn't find the words.
Shinji understood that expression.
Fear.
The fear of impending disaster.
"Village chief!" A young man ran over, face flushed. "The god… I mean, the demon pretending to be a god is dead! We're free!"
"…Yes." The old man nodded, his voice dry, forced from his throat. "Free."
He turned, his hunched figure looking especially aged in the firelight.
"I'll… prepare some food for our benefactors."
He walked away.
Step by step. Very slowly.
Shinji watched that retreating back, his expression shifting slightly.
Kikyō moved to stand beside him, her voice low.
"Seems he did know."
That the so-called god had been a demon in disguise all along.
"Yeah." Shinji acknowledged. "He knows better than anyone what happens next."
Killing the 'god' felt good.
But after the 'god' died?
The tribute that should have gone to it wouldn't just vanish.
Someone else would come to collect.
And they'd collect even more ruthlessly.
…
Half an hour later.
A rickety wooden table was set up in the elder's yard.
On it sat the best food this village could offer, half a wild rabbit, a dish of pickled vegetables, and a small flask of cloudy rice wine.
It looked meager.
But Shinji knew this was probably months' worth of rations for these people.
"Benefactors, please." The elder bowed, offering chopsticks.
Shinji didn't take them.
Because he noticed
Someone was already seated at the table.
No.
Not someone.
A figure in the form of a young man.
His golden hair was swept back, gleaming under the torchlight.
It floated, too, spread out like an open scythe, gently swaying in the night breeze.
A striped kimono, collar open, revealing a muscular chest. A tobacco pipe dangled from his lips as he blew out a cloud of smoke.
In front of him sat the biggest piece of meat from the meal.
Already half-eaten.
"Yo." The guy looked up and grinned at Shinji. "There you are. That slash earlier? Beautiful."
Shinji's hand went to his sword hilt.
He could feel the demonic aura.
Dense. Arrogant. But not mixed with the rotting stench of that toad.
This was…
"Nurarihyon." Kikyō's voice came from beside him. Calm, but with a note of wariness. "That aura is distinctive to the Nurarihyon"
Nurarihyon.
Shinji searched his memory.
Demons known for 'blending in.'
They could appear silently anywhere, making everyone feel like they'd always been there.
The ultimate infiltrators and infiltration specialists.
Also one of the most troublesome demon clans. Their essence was like a flower in a mirror, the moon's reflection on water, an illusion, a type of phantom.
In popular Hyakki Yakō literature, they were even considered the leaders of the Hundred Demons.
Mediators in conflicts between other demons.
Troublesome enough.
And this guy's demonic aura… Peak body transformation?
No, maybe higher.
And his appearance… Why did he look so familiar?
"Don't be so tense." The golden-haired young man set down his chopsticks and stretched. "If I wanted to fight, I'd have made a move when you were fighting that toad. Why wait till now?"
He stood. A bit shorter than Shinji, but not by much. Tall by ordinary human standards, at least among those without supernatural power like monks.
Up close, Shinji noticed his eyes.
Gold.
Slit pupils. Like a cat's. Or a snake's.
They gave off a very cunning, sly impression.
"Let me introduce myself."
He pulled the pipe from his waist and twirled it a couple of times.
"Nurarihyon."
"The most handsome demon in this area… well, not just this area. Within a few hundred miles, anyway."
"You're the only one here who's even a little bit of a threat to me. Just a little."
Shinji: "…"
This self-introduction was… off.
And, confirmed!
He did 'recognize' this guy.
Nurarihyon.
So this world wasn't just Inuyasha?
He was a bit surprised, but Shinji kept his face neutral. Still, he thought to himself, they're all 'demon' series, so mixing them together makes sense…... the hell it does!
"What do you want?" Kikyō's voice remained calm, but her grip on her bow didn't loosen.
If it weren't for the fact that the Nura clan, while weird and potentially dangerous, mostly just liked to show up at wealthy homes to freeload and rarely harmed people, if not for that, Kikyō would probably have loosed an arrow by now.
"Eating," Nurarihyon said, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "There's a feast, isn't there? I happened to be passing by. Got hungry."
He pointed at the plate of meat he'd already half-devoured.
"That's wild rabbit, right? Grilled well. Could use a little more salt, though."
"But."
Nurarihyon's expression suddenly shifted.
The playful smirk vanished, replaced by something like… regret?
"Honestly? What you did was satisfying."
He looked at Shinji, his golden eyes reflecting the still-burning shrine in the distance.
"Lopping that toad's head off in one shot. Torching its nest. Making these people see its true face."
"Clean. Sharp. Beautiful."
"Too bad."
He sighed and blew a puff of smoke from his pipe.
"Your actions here? There's a saying that fits perfectly—"
"Treat the root cause , not the symptoms."
Shinji's eyes narrowed slightly.
"What do you mean?"
Nurarihyon smiled.
There was no malice in it, but it carried an uncomfortable sense of insight.
"You know exactly what I mean, demon warrior," he said.
"I'm just saying it out loud for you."