The arrow was set upon the string, spiritual power coalescing at its tip.
Kikyō stood between Shinji and Uesugi Kenshin, her longbow raised level, the arrowhead trained on the girl ten paces away.
Her shrine maiden garb billowed fiercely. The white uwagi clung tight against her shoulders and back in the night wind; the crimson hakama wrapped around her straight-standing legs. The obi cinched her slender waist. Her stance was upright, unyielding, not conceding a single inch.
Her long black hair was unbound, spilling over her shoulders and down her back. A few stray strands were blown across her face by the wind, yet they could not veil the chill that filled those ink-dark eyes.
It was a rare thing, deeply rare, for Kikyō to let her emotions show so openly.
It was fury.
The fury of someone trying to seize what rightfully belonged to her.
Uesugi Kenshin looked at that arrow.
The spiritual light at its tip had coalesced into a sphere of white radiance the size of a fist translucent, blazing hot. Even at several paces' distance, one could feel the destructive power contained within it.
If that arrow were loosed, if it struck true, even a mightily powerful yōkai would be blasted into fragments.
But Uesugi Kenshin was no yōkai. And she did not dodge.
She made no move to defend herself, either.
She simply stood there, her silver-white hair falling on either side of her monk's robes. The edge of her veil fluttered in the night breeze, revealing the delicate line of her jaw.
Those eyes, still as an ancient well, rested upon Kikyō. Her gaze was calm, no hostility, no contempt.
She was simply looking.
Like looking at something mildly intriguing, but not particularly important.
"Shrine Maiden."
She spoke. Her voice still bore that utterly flat, uninflected quality, like an old monk chanting sutras in a temple. "I have heard your name. Kikyō. They say you were born with spiritual power of extraordinary strength and purity. Looking at you now, I can see it is true."
"If we speak solely of inborn spiritual power, its intensity, its purity, in this era, you could perhaps be called the strongest. Even those great onmyōji in the capital likely cannot surpass you."
"But spiritual power's purpose is to subdue demons. It does not subdue me. The power I wield, on the contrary, suppresses the likes of you."
She raised her hand, palm upturned.
It was not an attack. Simply a gesture.
Yet the very air changed.
No oppressive demonic aura. No clashing of spiritual forces.
Something more fundamental emanated from within Uesugi Kenshin, spreading outward like ripples slowly unfurling across the surface of water. Silent and soundless. But everything within thirty meter grew heavy.
The loose pebbles on the ground began to tremble faintly. The wooden pillars of the torii gate creaked and groaned.
Beneath Kikyō's feet, fine cracks spiderwebbed through the soil.
It was... the power of gods and buddhas.
Faith made manifest.
The accumulated prayers, offerings, and reverence of countless citizens of Echigo, all directed toward Bishamonten, now converged within a single person. It became sheer weight. It became suppression.
The suppression of all things supernatural.
In this respect, demonic aura and spiritual power were no different.
Neither belonged to the realm of mortals, of the mundane.
Shinji, standing behind Kikyō, felt that pressure just as keenly.
Heavy.
It truly was as if an invisible mountain was slowly pressing down upon them.
Utterly overwhelming.
"It still hasn't reached the level of Kidōmaru's presence," he assessed silently. "But it already exceeds an ordinary seventh-transformation demon. It's equivalent to the demonic aura of an eighth, maybe even a ninth-transformation demon."
Shinji made his assessment in silence.
Kidōmaru was a transcendent denon, twelfth transformation and above, teetering on the very threshold of becoming a Great Yōkai. A master who had pushed speed to its utmost extreme.
He was, without question, the strongest opponent Shinji had ever faced. Within the domain of his Reality Marble at Rajōmon, his speed likely exceeded even that of an ordinary Great Yōkai who did not specialize in swiftness. The clash that night remained branded into Shinji's memory with vivid clarity.
The being standing before him now was merely the reincarnation of a divine avatar, a reincarnation of a reincarnation. She could not possibly compare to a yōkai of that caliber.
Yet, to surpass an ordinary seventh-transformation demon was already staggering enough.
After all, the girl before him still inhabited a human body. What she was manifesting appeared to be purely physical power, sheer corporeal pressure. And within that pressure, there resided a force of absolute purity.
It was the will of one who stands above, unquestionable, beyond negotiation, top-down and absolute.
It was the embodiment of that creed: before gods and buddhas, all beings are equal.
'Truly worthy of the title "avatar of a god incarnate."'
Shinji thought to himself.
To radiate such oppressive might from such a form...
If she were to truly unleash her full power, she likely would not be someone he and Kikyō could overcome swiftly. Kikyō's spiritual power held no natural advantage over her, and he himself was, at best, roughly her equal, it would be difficult to surpass her decisively.
And yet, even with her inherent attributes suppressed, Kikyō did not retreat.
Her bowstring drew tighter.
The arrow remained as steady as a nail driven into the very air. The sphere of spiritual light at its tip swelled larger by another measure.
"You are not wrong."
Kikyō's voice was still calm. But that calm was different from Uesugi Kenshin's.
Uesugi Kenshin's calm was aloof indifference, gazing down from on high.
Kikyō's calm was the silence before the sword is drawn. The gathering pressure before the torrent bursts the mountain.
"My spiritual power may indeed only serve to subdue yōkai. But that does not mean my arrows are effective against demons alone."
It was the truth.
Spiritual power, in its essence, was the condensation and manifestation of pure energy. It could purify corrupt energy and stood as the natural antithesis to demonic aura. But it too belonged to the realm of the supernatural, and thus, it too was subject to the suppressive force of divine power.
But Kikyō's arrows, in and of themselves, were not weak.
Just as Shinji could cut down an avatar of a shinki with sheer bone and blade, so too could Kikyō, the peerless archer whose every arrow found its mark, who could amplify her own output directly with spiritual power, do the same.
Her spiritual power was immense. Even if its attributes were suppressed, that did not necessarily mean she could not, in turn, overwhelm her opponent through sheer magnitude.
So-called suppression was never absolute. It was always relative.
If the two forces collided
who would win, who would lose, was far from certain.
And if it truly came to a fight, it would only be a war of attrition.
Of course, that was under the premise of a one-on-one duel between Kikyō and Uesugi Kenshin. But as things stood, Uesugi Kenshin was alone, while they were two.
With Shinji and Kikyō joining forces against her, their odds of victory were significant.
Just because she couldn't be dealt with swiftly didn't mean she couldn't be dealt with at all.
Uesugi Kenshin seemed to have grasped this as well.
She looked at Kikyō's fully drawn bow, then at Shinji standing behind her.
A moment of silence.
And then
she withdrew.
That oppressive pressure permeating the air, the kind that would make an ordinary person fall to their knees, receded like a tide rapidly ebbing away.
The loose pebbles stilled. The torii's wooden pillars fell silent. The cracks in the earth ceased their spread.
Uesugi Kenshin drew her hands back into her sleeves. The gesture was unhurried, even bearing a trace of formality.
"Forget it."
Her voice still bore no ripples of emotion.
"It seems I cannot press the matter tonight. But what I have said remains unchanged."
She turned around.
Her silver-white monk's robes gleamed softly beneath the moonlight. The white veil draped down, veiling half her face, leaving only those eyes, deep and still as an ancient well.
"I will come again, with all of my shinki. Should you refuse me a second time, it will not end as it has tonight."
"You would do well to consider this... more carefully."
The final words drifted behind her, carried lightly on the air.
And then she was gone.
Just like that.
Her steps were neither fast nor slow, following the mountain path from whence she came. Alone, she disappeared into the northern night.
Her silhouette was solitary, but not forlorn, like a moving buddha statue, never once needing to look back at anyone.
…
Kikyō did not lower her bow at once. Only when that figure had completely vanished beyond the reach of the blood mist's perception did she finally, slowly, release the string.
The sphere of spiritual light at the arrow's tip dispersed. Its white radiance shattered into fine specks of light, scattering upon the night breeze.
She let the bow drop, exhaling a long breath.
Her breathing was a little more hurried than usual.
Only now did the fury, the kind that flared when one's reverse scale was touched, begin to recede from her blood.
"She's gone."
Shinji's voice came from behind her.
Kikyō nodded. She did not turn around, only casting a sidelong glance his way, her ink-black yet clear eyes glinting faintly.
Neither of them spoke it aloud, but neither had pursued.
Because they couldn't catch her. And because there was no need.
Two against one, they were confident they could suppress Uesugi Kenshin had she come alone. They could win. But if she chose to leave, they lacked the means to keep her.
In the end, she was no yōkai. She was human, a god incarnate. Kikyō's abilities could not be brought to their full effect against her.
Somewhere in between, Shinji walked to Kikyō's side. His crimson demon mask had been removed, revealing a pale, strikingly handsome face. His eyes were still fixed on the north.
Kikyō, however, spoke:
"There is one more thing."
She did not withdraw her hand, though her voice had already regained its usual cool clarity. "To the north... there is an army encamped."
Shinji's gaze sharpened.
"How do you know?"
"I didn't sleep tonight."
That was why she had been able to reach here in time.
Kikyō cast her gaze toward the north. "That Uesugi Kenshin... before she arrived, my barrier's warning layer had already reacted. Not to demonic aura, but to human presence, massive, densely packed human presence, pressing in on the northern wind."
"I went north, following the edge of my barrier's perception."
She paused.
"About a five thousand metres from here, at a mountain pass in the valley, an army is stationed."
"'Bi' flags... flying the character for Bishamonten."
"Numbers... at least three thousand."
"Twice as many as last time."
Shinji fell silent.
Last time, they had come with a thousand, led by Kakizaki Kageie. He had cut down their commander in a single stroke, and they had retreated.
This time, three thousand had come. And at the very same moment Uesugi Kenshin had personally approached him, alone, with her invitation.
Which meant, if he had accepted, those three thousand soldiers would have been his comrades.
If he refused
then those three thousand would be the troops sent to attack.
"First courtesy, then war."
Shinji uttered the four words flatly.
Kikyō did not speak, but she slung her longbow back across her shoulders.
The gesture meant one thing, she was ready.
The two of them stood beneath the torii gate, their shadows stretched long by the moonlight.
The northern wind began to rise.
It carried the scent of iron. And the chill of war.