At the entrance to Kaede's Village.
Hōjō Ujiyasu stepped onto the mountain path, followed by a dozen or so attendant samurai. The man leading them was no warrior in appearance, but an old man with crimson hair, clad in a deep gray hunting robe with a short sword at his waist.
His face was lean, his features refined, and his bearing was steady, yet carried an indefinable sharpness, like a blade that sent a chill through you even before it left its sheath.
He was of the Hōjō clan's branch family, a man of the Tsugikuni line. To be precise, the current head of the Tsugikuni house.
For generations, the Tsugikuni had served the great lords of the Kantō. Their bloodline stretched back centuries, unbroken, and from time to time, individuals of extraordinary talent emerged among them. In the present generation, the family head should have had twin sons.
The elder was named Tsugikuni Iwamasa. His name appeared in the Hōjō clan's military records, though still young at the time, he had already served as a general in their army.
As for the younger brother… it was said that from birth he bore a strange-colored birthmark upon his brow, with eyes of vivid crimson. The Tsugikuni household had regarded him as an ill-omened child from the very start. Later, that younger brother vanished, some said he died. Others claimed he simply walked away. Only the elder remained.
But all of that was old history. It had nothing to do with the present.
The man walking beside Hōjō Ujiyasu now was that very Tsugikuni patriarch, just over sixty years of age, responsible for the Hōjō clan's internal administration in Musashi Province.
At the same time, he was one of the rare few in this era who could truly be called a master swordsman, one who had grasped the very essence of the blade. His skill was enough to threaten even high-ranking demons, placing him among the mightiest of humans, on par with warriors like the Shichinintai.
"My lady, there is something I do not understand."
Tsugikuni lowered his voice, keeping half a step behind Ujiyasu.
"Granting a yōkai authority over the central Shintō institutions of two provinces under Hōjō rule, this is too extreme. Even if Kyōto does not outright reject it, the shrines and temples of every province will raise objections."
"Let them object. We act regardless."
Hōjō Ujiyasu did not look back. She tapped her folding fan against her palm, her pace neither fast nor slow.
"You think this is charity? That I'm doing this solely to thank him?"
Tsugikuni said nothing.
"Naturally, gratitude is part of it. The Hōjō govern with benevolence and righteousness, we cannot let the Uesugi to the north outshine us in that regard. But at the same time, as I said… this is mutual gain."
Her voice dropped low, so that only Tsugikuni at her side could hear.
"Imagawa Yoshimoto made Nakami Shinji her household deity, and in the very next breath, set Uesugi's rear aflame. She even forced that insufferable woman who styles herself a living god to her knees. Yes, he is a yōkai. But his worth, need I say more?"
"But he has already signed an agreement with the Imagawa," Tsugikuni hesitated, as though he wanted to say more.
"That is precisely why I must raise the stakes."
Ujiyasu stopped walking and turned. Her face bore the confidence of someone who had placed a heavy wager and knew the dice would fall her way.
"Imagawa gave him command authority and offerings. So I will give him more."
"The recognition of a provincial ruler. The official certification of a true deity from the central Shintō authorities."
"Once this is done, however it plays out, this 'Demon God' Shinji will become the barrier that shields the Hōjō clan from the north."
She glanced back at Tsugikuni, then flicked her fan and mounted her horse.
"Back to Odawara. Prepare the documents."
The sound of hoofbeats faded into the distance.
Tsugikuni stood where he was, looking down at the short sword at his waist. Carved into the sheath was the crest of the Tsugikuni house, a crimson sun.
...
...
Kaede's Village. The shrine's main hall.
Less than half an incense stick's time after Hōjō Ujiyasu had departed, Shinji withdrew his gaze, and with it, the sliver of attention he had paid to that man bearing the name Tsugikuni.
He and Kikyō stepped out of the main hall together, coming to rest beneath the shrine's eaves.
Momiji and Botan had been sent off to bring lunch to Naoe Kanetsugu. Little Kaede was in the back garden, happily picking fruit, thoroughly absorbed in her own delight.
Shinji sat down on the bare ground, his demon mask dissolving into shapeless yōki and fading away. Kikyō seated herself across from him.
Her freshly bathed hair still held a trace of dampness, falling over her shoulders and down her back, the jet-black strands gleaming with a soft, watery luster in the light. Her white uwagi, just changed into, had yet to be warmed by her body heat.
The fabric clung faintly to her skin, the collar tied neat and proper, yet with each breath, the pale curve beneath her collarbones was just barely visible. The crimson hakama were bound at her waist, the sash drawn snug, defining the slender line of her waist with sharp clarity.
She sat upright, her posture as flawless as a sacred image enshrined in a temple hall. Her dark eyes rested on Shinji, calm, cool, and clear. The same as always.
But beneath that calm lay something else. And by now, Shinji could see it with perfect clarity.
"Shōshin," Kikyō said once more.
"Mm."
"Then this shrine will no longer be without a master."
"Mn."
"And I won't be a wandering miko anymore, either."
Shinji looked at her.
When Kikyō spoke those words, her tone was still that same cool, untroubled calm it had always been. But Shinji could feel, truly feel, the stirring beneath the surface of her heart.
She was a wandering miko. A priestess with no fixed shrine, no patron deity, fated to roam from place to place, exorcising yōkai wherever she went. Kikyō had been exactly that from the very day she became a miko.
No belonging. No roots. Though she had guarded the shrine in Kaede's Village for many years, strictly speaking, it was never an officially recognized sanctuary with a true presiding god. It was nothing more than an old structure in a remote mountain hamlet, without even a shrine rank to its name.
But if Hōjō Ujiyasu's documents reached Kyōto, if Shinji was formally enshrined as a shōshin, then this shrine would at last have its own deity.
And a shrine with a god no longer needed a "wandering" miko.
It needed a permanent kannushi. Or rather… a miko.
A priestess.
"Kikyō."
Shinji extended his hand.
Kikyō looked at that pale hand and paused for a single breath.
Then she placed her own hand upon it. Her fingertips were cool, just as they always were.
"From now on, you'll truly belong to me."
After all, a miko was, by definition, one who served a deity. One who belonged to a god, a proxy acting in the mortal realm.
He said it plainly.
Kikyō's expression did not change. But her fingers tightened, clasping the back of his hand.
Their hands intertwined there, stark and clear in the mottled light of the main hall. Pale white and fair white. Demon and miko.
As his face lowered and hers lifted, they drew closer and closer....
Until
"Ooooh—!"
The paper door of the side hall slid open a crack.
Botan's round face and Momiji's profile emerged from the gap at the same time, four eyes stretched wide and round as coins, locked dead onto those two clasped hands in the center of the main hall.
Botan's mouth hung open in a perfect O, the rice bowl in her hands very nearly slipping free. Momiji's face was plastered with an expression that screamed I knew it, but the tips of her ears had gone red.
One giddy, one utterly stunned, they both stared at the scene before them.
Kikyō's peripheral vision caught the two heads.
She moved quickly.
Her hand snapped back, and she straightened bolt upright, back ramrod straight, her expression restored to its standard cool composure. Flawless. Watertight. Not a crack to be found.
Only her ears, for what had to be the umpteenth time, were flushed a brilliant, translucent red. The color burned from her earlobes all the way to the outer curve, half-hidden beneath the black cascade of her hair.
"…Have you finished delivering the meal?"
Kikyō's voice was steady. Too steady. So steady it was painfully obvious she was forcing it.
"D-done delivering!"
Botan scrambled backward with the rice bowl and crashed the paper door shut with her back. Momiji was a beat slower, she cast one last glance at Kikyō's ears, then gently slid the door closed.
From behind the paper door came hushed, urgent whispers.
"They're together, right? They're definitely together, right? A miko that powerful, and she can actually make an expression like that…"
"…Senior Sister, please stop talking."
Shinji watched the Kikyō before him, now fully back in "miko mode" and the corner of his mouth tugged helplessly.
He wanted to laugh, but he held it in.
This was simply who she was.
A woman who yearned for warmth, yet habitually wrapped herself in cool detachment. Who wanted to draw closer, yet the instant someone's eyes fell upon her, retreated straight back into her shell.
Even now, with their relationship long since settled, she still couldn't help but maintain that untouchable, distant miko bearing before others.
Restraint.
Restraint sunk all the way to the marrow of her bones.
But the lingering coolness still clinging to his palm, the faint touch of her, betrayed her entirely.
Shinji didn't reach out again.
Kikyō didn't overreact either, but her fingers curled once more against her knee. As if she wanted to reach out again, yet couldn't quite bring herself to.
In the end, it was Shinji who took her hand once more, pulling her close once again.
No matter what…
From this day forward…
This shrine, here in Kaede's Village, it had a god.
And Kikyō, the wandering miko, no longer needed to wander.
[Shikon no Tama: Current Affection — 81 (Bound by Life and Death)]
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T/n: I am still not sure about this Tsugikuni Iwamasa being Michikatsu or Yoriichi from Demon Slayer, so i will keep this name for now.