A short while later.
Still outside Kaede's Village. Still at the top of that gentle slope, at the bend in the road.
Sesshōmaru sat upon a protruding boulder. The white fur pelt was spread beneath him as a cushion, his posture so composed one might suspect he had come simply to admire the autumn scenery.
Jaken crouched nearby, the Staff of Two Heads laid across his knees. His sharp-mouthed, gaunt face was stretched tight with tension, and every so often he stole a furtive glance at Shinji, his expression full of wariness.
Shinji leaned against another boulder. His demon mask was still in place, but the crimson armor had already dissipated. Having heard the full account of what had happened, his expression was difficult to read. Not surprise, exactly. Not shock. Something far more subtle and complex.
According to Sesshōmaru, though a great deal of it came by way of Jaken's supplementary rambling, Shinji had pieced together the gist of it.
Inuyasha's death had not been some earth-shattering event. There had been no climactic battle with a daiyōkai. No heroic sacrifice to protect someone dear. It couldn't even be called an honorable end.
He had died a little over two months ago. Killed in the chaos of a skirmish.
Two months ago.
Shinji silently counted the days in his head. That was right around the time he had clashed with Kidōmaru. The same window when the four high-ranking yōkai from Kyōto had first arrived in the Kantō region.
Sesshōmaru offered little in the way of detail, but from Jaken's disjointed additions and his own knowledge of this world's backdrop, Shinji was able to assemble a rough picture of what had transpired.
Inuyasha. A half-demon. The son born of the union between Tōga, the once-greatest daiyōkai of the Western Lands, and a human woman. Dog-eared and silver-haired. Hot-tempered and impulsive.
He had inherited his father's yōki bloodline, yet his half-breed blood earned him only rejection from both humans and demons alike.
In the original story, Inuyasha at this point in time should have been in the midst of seeking the Shikon no Tama. But this world's timeline had split wide open.
The critical divergence point lay with the Shikon no Tama itself. In the original tale, the jewel had been guarded by Kikyō and, through a chain of events, shattered and scattered, becoming the very beginning of Inuyasha's journey.
In this fused world, however, nearly four months ago, the jewel had been entrusted to Shinji by the headman of the demon-slayer village. Shinji had then brought it to Kaede's Village and given it to Kikyō to safeguard.
And Inuyasha, before Shinji had ever arrived, had been searching for the Shikon no Tama all along. As a half-demon, scorned and shunned by both sides throughout his life, he had long heard the legends of a jewel that could grant any wish.
He burned to use its power to become either a full yōkai, or fully human. That much remained the same, no matter the world.
Up to this point, things diverged from the original story, but not by much. The real change came swiftly. That night, the night Kikyō had pierced the kamaitachi with a single arrow, the Shikon no Tama's signature had been revealed far more starkly than in the original.
There was no gradual, step-by-step attraction of yōkai. And so, Inuyasha had tracked the jewel's aura to the Kantō far faster than he would have in the original timeline.
By sheer ill luck, he stumbled directly into the contested border zone between the Imagawa and Hōjō forces. Amid the chaos of battle, both armies locked in furious combat, Inuyasha charged straight in.
As a half-demon, he was not weak. But he had not yet obtained Tessaiga, as he would in the original story's future. And he had no way of knowing that there were more than human soldiers on that battlefield.
The vanguard of Kyōto's yōkai forces, the advance scouts among the four Essence-level demons sent by Hagoromo Gitsune, had also arrived in that region at that very time.
Those yōkai, too, had their own eyes on the Shikon no Tama. Inuyasha crashed straight into them, all the while bellowing about taking the jewel for himself. The result, naturally, was predictable. With his level of strength, handling ordinary lesser yōkai was no issue.
His true ability was roughly equivalent to what Shinji would classify as a Sixth Transformation demon, approaching the level of a high-tier yōkai leader.
Slightly weaker than the Yura, but capable of exploiting openings to turn the tables. The gap was razor-thin. And carrying the blood of the top-tier daiyōkai Tōga, should he fall into true danger, he could even enter a berserk state, igniting the daiyōkai blood within him and reaching the equivalent of an Eighth or even Ninth Transformation demon.
Against high-ranking yōkai, if he wanted to flee, he certainly could have.
But he was also attacked by human soldiers from both armies. A half-demon on a battlefield, neither humans nor demons would let him go. Attacked from the front and the rear. Enemies on all sides. And on top of that, that day was the eve of the new moon.
As a half-demon, on the night of the new moon, Inuyasha would lose his yōki entirely and become an ordinary human. On days near the new moon, his power would also wane. And on that battlefield, there was a yōkai like Himemushimaru, a master of illusion.
Inuyasha was trapped in illusions for an entire day, never given the chance to enter his berserk state. The timing was wrong. The place was wrong. The opponents were wrong.
And the enemies were far too many. Just like that, he died. Killed in the chaotic melee between yōkai and men. His body drifted away down the river, and recently, Sesshōmaru had found it.
This was, in truth, Shinji's butterfly effect. Had he never crossed into this world, Kikyō could certainly have dealt with the kamaitachi. But in her depleted state, it was far from certain she could have destroyed it so utterly, or caused such an immense disturbance.
Kidōmaru would not have come. The four high-ranking yōkai would not have come. Inuyasha would absolutely never have tracked the jewel here so quickly. Would never have been caught between two warring armies. Would never have encountered the Kyōto yōkai vanguard. Would not be dead.
It seemed as though Inuyasha's luck had simply run out in the worst possible way. As the son of the great Inu no Taishō of the Western Lands, even if he was a half-breed, even if he was no legitimate heir, his body still bore the name of the West.
Though the great dog-demon Tōga was dead, the Inu-yōkai nation still held considerable power. Even a truly powerful yōkai who knew that the West cared nothing for this half-demon's survival would still refrain from touching him, to avoid bringing needless trouble upon themselves.
Yet he had run into yōkai who were just strong enough, but not truly powerful, yōkai who knew nothing of the Western Lands' might.
But at its root, this was the result of a fused world diverging from what had once been. Combined with the butterfly effect. A butterfly flapped its wings, and a storm rose a thousand kilometers away. That butterfly… was him. Shinji.
"…"
Shinji remained silent for a very long time. Naturally, he held no special feelings toward Inuyasha. No particular goodwill. No particular malice. He was simply a fictional character he'd known through animation and manga before crossing over.
Though he had always relied on the so-called original story to navigate information gaps, he understood that the real world would never follow that story exactly. Inuyasha's existence, from very early on, had been something he'd set aside. But now, this character was real. Someone who had once lived. Breathed. Fought. And then died. Died because of him.
All he felt was… a profound loss for words. Even though he'd known from the original story that Inuyasha was impulsive and hot-tempered, often acting without considering the consequences, an end like this still struck him as absurd.
But Shinji quickly shifted his focus and began to think.
Three months. That was the maximum range his spirit affinity could perceive, and the effective window for his soul-calling ability. A lingering soul that had scattered could still potentially be called back within three months. But only potentially. The longer the time, the thinner the remnant soul became. Three months was already the very edge of the limit.
Inuyasha had been dead for two months… still just barely within that range.
However,
"Summoning isn't resurrection."
Shinji looked at Sesshōmaru and made things clear. "What I can do is temporarily gather the scattered fragments of his lingering soul and let his consciousness briefly return. But only briefly, half a day at most. After that, the remnants will scatter again. And whether it even works depends on how much of his soul still remains."
Sesshōmaru did not look at him. His golden, slit-pupiled eyes gazed at the distant mountain ridges, his expression utterly unchanged from start to finish.
"Calling him back will be enough," he said. "What comes after, I will handle."
His left hand rested lightly on the sheath of the ancient sword at his waist.
Tenseiga.
One of the two legendary blades left behind by Tōga. The sword that could cut death itself. It could not harm the living, but it could slay the messengers of the underworld and pull the deceased back from the very brink. One blade. One swing. One life saved.
Sesshōmaru offered no further explanation. But Shinji, looking at that understated sheath, understood perfectly. What he needed to do was summon Inuyasha's lingering soul back, even if only for an instant.
As long as the remnant soul existed, Tenseiga could sever the death coiled around it. The soul would return. With it, his strength would surge back. His body would regenerate.
And then, he would be resurrected. If not for the fact that so much time had passed, so long that Inuyasha's spirit had already detached from his physical body, Sesshōmaru wouldn't have needed Shinji at all. He could have done it himself.
…Naturally, Shinji was interested in this blade as well. Though it wasn't on par with Tessaiga, its healing ability was still formidable. And Shinji remembered that within Tenseiga lay another power, the power of the "Underworld," a remnant from a death-realm daiyōkai Tōga had once defeated.
But now was not the time to show that interest. Though Sesshōmaru had no love for Tenseiga, that didn't mean he would simply cast it aside. It was, after all, Tōga's legacy. And the blade itself had chosen him.
"Your ability need only go that far." Sesshōmaru's tone was not a question. "That will suffice."
The exchange was over. Clean and decisive. Not a single wasted word. No dragging through the mud.
Shinji's thoughts spun rapidly, countless possibilities flashing through his mind in an instant.
He thought about what Inuyasha's resurrection, if it succeeded, could bring him. First: the half-demon's existence would reappear upon this earth. That in itself meant little.
With him here, the so-called original story could never unfold. Of that much, Shinji was confident. Second: the whereabouts of Tessaiga, that peerless demon sword forged by Tōtōsai from Tōga's own fang.
While Inuyasha lived, the means to obtain Tessaiga was sealed within his very body. Tōga had left it to him. No one else could take it.
That sounded, at first, as though there was no benefit to be had…
But then, a thought struck Shinji. A notion began to crystallize in his mind.
Help Sesshōmaru summon Inuyasha's remnant soul. Let Tenseiga complete the resurrection. In exchange- no. There was no need for exchange. All he needed was for Inuyasha to be resurrected, not as the half-demon Inuyasha.
In that case… Tessaiga, along with a certain part of Inuyasha's corpse, the eye that concealed the passage to the blade, would become ownerless, wouldn't it?
This was an opportunity. An exquisite opportunity to make contact with Tessaiga. Hadn't Inuyasha sought the Shikon no Tama precisely to become a pure being? Whether yōkai or human, Shinji could help him there.
Or rather, in this matter, Shinji couldn't avoid helping him even if he wanted to. His soul-calling ability wasn't omnipotent. But since this was a transaction, it was only natural to take something in return… wasn't it?
He felt it was worth attempting. And such an aim didn't conflict with the Sesshōmaru standing before him. Even though it was obvious the latter had come for Tessaiga, Shinji knew that Sesshōmaru would never be able to claim it.
"When do we begin?" Shinji spoke.
At last, Sesshōmaru's golden eyes settled squarely upon him. That gaze was still indifferent. But within it now, faint, almost imperceptible, there seemed to be something like satisfaction.
"Now."