The moonlight spilled like liquid mercury.
Shinji stood in the shadow of the torii gate, the patterns on his crimson demon mask still eerily menacing in the darkness.
Ten paces away, the girl known as Uesugi Kenshin remained steeped in that same unsettling calm.
There was truly no killing intent, no hostility whatsoever.
Only the indifference one might show toward a pebble by the roadside, or a wildflower, and with it, an utterly matter-of-fact desire to pluck it, to pick it up, and to keep it for herself.
"A shinki… you said?"
Shinji repeated the word, his expression tightening slightly, as if something had occurred to him. "Like Kakizaki Kageie?"
"Yes, and no."
Uesugi Kenshin shook her head gently. Her silver-white hair slipped past her cheek, tousled by the wind. In that fleeting moment, she looked almost otherworldly, almost saintly.
"Kageie is not a wielder of a sacred treasure. She is the reincarnation of the treasure itself. And though she can access its power, she cannot bring it to its full potential. Without my presence, she cannot even activate that power on her own, and she will never be able to manifest the treasure's true form."
A sacred divine artifact, a shinki, as the name implied, was ultimately a vessel. An object. Not a person.
Shinji understood.
Uesugi Kenshin raised her hand, her fingertip poised in the air, pointing at him.
"You, on the other hand, are an oni. A restless spirit. A dead soul that lingers in this world, one that has form, but no place to belong."
"For a god, an existence like yours is the finest raw material. Something that can be made directly into a vessel."
The girl's voice was cool and clear. In the stillness of the night, it rose and fell with the cadence of an ancient sutra being chanted.
"What we call a shinki is, in essence, a being granted a true name by the divine power of our originating god, an entity that comes to bear a portion of the faith mortals place in that deity."
"In ordinary times, it maintains a human form. But when its master calls, it is forcibly transformed into a certain object, perhaps a blade, perhaps armor, perhaps thunder and flame."
"A name bestowed by the divine, engraved upon your being."
"The name, read in its native tongue, is your human name, the name you wear. The vessel's name, read in its other tongue, is your true name, your weapon form."
"This is the covenant. Between god and shinki."
Shinji's crimson eyes narrowed.
He was beginning to remember.
To remember what a shinki truly was.
He had heard of this concept before.
In the memories from before he crossed into this world, from a story called Noragami.
In it, gods gathered restless spirits in just this way, shaping them into their own divine weapons.
He hadn't expected that in this amalgamated world, Uesugi Kenshin, as an avatar of Bishamonten, would actually possess this power.
Or perhaps he should say… he hadn't realized this world had merged with that world's system as well.
Extrapolating from that…
The Uesugi Kenshin before him truly was an incarnation of Bishamonten, descended and reborn in human form.
Though not the god's true body, she could still awaken the divine power within those who were reincarnated shinki, allowing them to bear a portion of the faith mortals placed in Bishamonten, and thereby gain that unparalleled attribute of sheer weight, the power to suppress all things supernatural.
And she could still bestow a new spirit with the name of a shinki.
"So, you want to bestow a name upon me?"
Shinji's fingers tapped lightly against the hilt of the Muramasa blade at his waist, producing a crisp, metallic sound. "Even though I'm a demon?"
"Demon or oni, what does it matter?"
Uesugi Kenshin took a single step forward.
Just one step.
And with it, an immense, suffocating pressure came crashing down like a collapsing mountain, the pure, unadulterated essence of a shinki's origin, a vast and overwhelming force that could only be defined as the power of gods and buddhas.
It seemed Uesugi Kenshin's true goal was, just as she had claimed, not to purify and eliminate Shinji.
She intended to assimilate him.
To scour away every jagged edge, every ounce of defiance, every impurity until only the most pristine soul remained, ready to serve her will.
"You need only consent."
Uesugi Kenshin extended her hand, palm upturned. It was an invitation, yet also a display of divine grace.
"I can cleanse you of all corruption. I can grant you the surname 'Uesugi,' and bestow upon you a new name."
"You will become my sharpest blade, perhaps even a hafuri, a blessed vessel that surpasses ordinary shinki… or a michibiki, a guidepost to illuminate the path ahead for the divine."
"You will fight at my side, cut through the thorns of this chaotic age, and help establish a buddha-land here on earth."
"As for that bottleneck of yours, before the power of a shinki, it is utterly beneath notice."
It was tempting.
Any ordinary wandering spirit, even, by Shinji's own classification, a demon leader wielding demonic aura at the seventh or eighth transformation level would likely waver in the face of such an invitation from a being of the divine realm.
This was true ascent. A single step from earth to heaven.
A leap from demon to divine messenger.
But Shinji merely smiled.
"And if I refuse?"
He had no intention of becoming anyone's dog. A shinki was utterly and completely subservient to its god, and besides, he didn't need that kind of method to grow stronger.
His path was better. Far more certain.
Uesugi Kenshin did not withdraw her hand.
And for the first time, something flickered within those still, fathomless eyes. Slowly, there surfaced an emotion that could only be called pity.
"You cannot refuse."
"Because you are already dead."
"A dead soul has no right to refuse, in the presence of a god."
The moment those words fell
The very air shuddered.
Countless golden Sanskrit characters spilled from Uesugi Kenshin's sleeves, weaving together into a massive net against the night sky.
Those characters were not meant to attack.
They were meant to name.
Every word carried a crushing weight, a manifestation of fundamental law, a brand that would be forcibly seared onto Shinji's very soul.
She had never intended to negotiate.
The invitation had been nothing more than a courtesy before the threat.
She had set her sights on this blade.
And so, she would take it.
It was as simple as that.
"This is an invitation."
Uesugi Kenshin's voice remained as calm as ever, yet each word landed with an undeniable finality. "And more than that, it is a declaration."
The golden net of characters descended.
Shinji did not move. He only tightened his grip on his blade's hilt.
This power suppressed all things supernatural.
Naturally, that included demons and their demonic aura.
However.
Everything in existence is never one-sided.
It has two sides.
That which suppresses can, in turn, be suppressed.
All that matters is strength against strength.
So, at this very moment
Shinji inhaled. Then exhaled.
Deep within him, his Lightning-Muscle Sharp Body surged into furious motion, violet arcs of electricity roaring through the channels of his bones.
And the hand that gripped his blade began to seethe with dense, billowing black energy.
Then
A resonant hum split the air.
And the golden net shattered.
One blade. One instant.
Ripped apart by thunder. Slashed through by the sword's edge. And then, pulverized by the surging demonic aura that followed in its wake.
Uesugi Kenshin's gaze flickered, sharpening.
And at that very same moment—
Shiuu—!
A piercing shriek tore through the night.
It was more than just lightning.
It was an arrow.
An arrow wreathed in gleaming white spiritual power, brilliant as a shooting star, a sacred arrow of demonic exorcism.
It came flying from behind Shinji, grazing past his shoulder, trailing a long, lingering hum as it shot straight toward the golden web of characters.
Pak.
No earth-shattering explosion.
Only a crisp, delicate sound, like shattering glass.
The descending net of names was pierced through its very core. In an instant, it disintegrated into a cloud of golden dust.
Uesugi Kenshin's fingers trembled, ever so slightly, before she withdrew her hand.
She raised her gaze, looking past Shinji, toward whatever lay behind him.
Shinji turned his head, just a little.
There, beneath the torii gate, at the far end of the mountain path
Kikyō approached with unhurried steps.
She was still dressed in her white kimono and crimson hakama. Her long hair was unbound, spilling loosely over her shoulders, she had clearly been roused from sleep. Yet her bearing remained as cold and clear as ever… colder, even, than usual.
In her hands she held an ancient bow, its string still faintly trembling.
And her expression was truly frigid.
Colder than the moonlight tonight. Colder even than Uesugi Kenshin's aloof indifference.
This was a cold that had been touched upon its reverse scale, a cold so deep, so tightly reined, it had passed beyond mere anger.
She walked past Shinji without looking at him, and came to a halt directly between him and Uesugi Kenshin.
That slender, upright silhouette was like an insurmountable wall, planted firmly beside the man who was her beloved, her demon samurai.
"He has a name."
Kikyō spoke.
Her voice was not loud, but every word was clear and crystalline, like beads of ice striking the ground with absolute finality.
"He has no need of one given by anyone else."
She raised her bow. Another arrow found its place upon the string, aimed directly at the "God of War" ten paces away.