After Myōga's words fell, the air at the foot of the volcano froze solid.
Tōtōsai still dangled in midair, hoisted by the back of his collar in Shinji's grip. His stubby legs had stopped kicking. His bulging eyes were locked dead onto the flea-sized yōkai on his shoulder, the wrinkles of his face twisted into a tight knot.
"Are you certain?"
"Absolutely certain!" Myōga bounced twice on his shoulder, his six spindly legs trembling even more violently. His flat little body stretched out toward Shinji, sniffing furiously.
"Young Master Inuyasha's scent, there's no mistake! This old flea followed Young Master Inuyasha for so many years! I'd recognize his scent with my eyes closed!"
A flea's sense of smell was naturally keen, and Myōga, as a yōkai, could even scent the residual "emotions" left upon a person. Myōga's voice grew softer, tinged with bewilderment. "It truly is gratitude. Young Master Inuyasha feels gratitude toward this yōkai!"
Tōtōsai's expression shifted. From sheer terror to deep suspicion. He no longer struggled. Instead, he tilted his head and used those bulging eyes to re-examine the demon warrior who had him by the scruff of the neck.
Crimson demon mask. Flowing white hair. Violet veins threading through scarlet demon eyes. His yōki was dense, no less than his own as an old yōkai.
Perhaps even surpassing it. And it was clearly of the warrior type. Versatile abilities. Highly combat-capable. He carried Inuyasha's scent. Myōga would never lie about such a thing. That flea might be a coward, but his nose had never once been wrong.
But at the same time,
"Wait." Tōtōsai's own nose was no slouch. He sniffed hard twice, his face wrinkles once more bunching together. "Why do you also carry Lord Sesshōmaru's yōki?"
Shinji was silent for a beat. He did indeed carry it. That transaction with Sesshōmaru days ago, though their contact had been brief, a daiyōkai's yōki was simply like that.
Its density was so high that even brief contact was enough to leave a trace, and it lingered for a long time. It was the influence a daiyōkai's very existence exerted upon the surrounding world. Residual yōki of the Phenomenon level. Not unlike being perfumed by someone's cologne. Except the "concentration" of this cologne was enough to alter the atmospheric composition of an entire region.
.…Though, putting that aside, what Shinji really wanted to gripe about was, as expected of dog demons. When it came to leaving their scent everywhere they went, they truly were the authority.
"Sesshōmaru sought my help with a matter," Shinji said succinctly.
Tōtōsai's face instantly crumpled. "I knew it! You were sent by that brat Sesshōmaru—!"
"I wasn't sent by him." Shinji cut off his about-to-erupt-again flight instinct, somewhat exasperated. "I made a transaction with Sesshōmaru. The contents of that transaction had nothing to do with you. But during that transaction, I met Inuyasha."
Tōtōsai stopped. Myōga stopped. Both yōkai stared at him.
Shinji continued. "I'm the one who pulled Inuyasha back from the pile of dead." He didn't go into excessive detail. He only stated three facts. First: Inuyasha had died once. Killed in the chaos of the Kantō armies over two months ago.
Second: he had used his own ability to summon back the scattered remnants of Inuyasha's soul. Sesshōmaru had then used Tenseiga to sever the chains of death and complete the resurrection.
Third: after being resurrected, Inuyasha had become a pure human.
When that last sentence fell, a long silence descended upon the foot of the volcano. Tōtōsai's bulging eyes stretched even wider. Myōga tumbled straight off his shoulder, all six spindly legs flailing skyward, only scrambling back upright after a full somersault.
"B-became… a human?!"
"Mn. The demon soul had already dissipated too much. Even if I'd forced it back, he'd have been a raving lunatic. In the end, only the human half returned. At least he's still lucid."
Shinji's tone was utterly natural. So natural that neither Tōtōsai nor Myōga detected anything amiss. After all, he wasn't telling a lie. The demon soul truly had dissipated far faster than the human soul. If summoned back, it truly would have been a mindless beast driven by pure instinct. Forcing it back together with the human soul truly would have resulted in a fractured, schizophrenic mind. This was fact.
"Then right now, he's…" Myōga's voice had grown very complicated. A strange, indescribable expression squeezed itself onto his flat little face, something that looked like sorrow, yet also like release.
"Black hair. Brown eyes. No dog ears or claws like you described. Just like any ordinary human boy. Aside from having a bit too much energy, everything's normal. By now, he's already reached a prosperous settlement-city under Sagami's jurisdiction and is living a normal life," Shinji supplemented.
He had glanced in on him earlier while passing through Sagami. Inuyasha's current situation was indeed quite good. Just as Shinji had originally calculated, he was strong, and his personality was carefree and open.
Though he was somewhat childish, with ability, such a temperament actually thrived easily in a chaotic age. In times of turmoil where survival demanded cunning, everyone yearned to have someone around who was straightforward and without guile.
As a half-demon, Inuyasha had been weak and unfit for either world. But whether as a human or as a yōkai, as long as he was no longer half-baked, he wouldn't fall short at all. He had even already gathered a small group of companions around him. Though it was still far off, Shinji had a feeling… Inuyasha, in the days to come, might step onto the stage of human history in a different guise entirely.
Not as a yōkai, but as a hero belonging to the human side of history. That, however, was likely a matter for a far, far distant future.
Silence. A very long silence. Tōtōsai was an old retainer who had followed Tōga from very early on. He had witnessed Tōga's meeting with Izayoi, Inuyasha's human mother.
He had naturally seen, after Inuyasha's birth, how the half-demon child was treated among the dog demons of the Western Lands. He had seen, all along the way, everything that half-demon boy had suffered from childhood onward because of his neither-human-nor-demon existence. Feared by humans. Looked down upon by yōkai. Suspended in between. Nowhere to belong.
And now, he had landed. Though he had landed on the human side, he had landed nonetheless.
"That brat…" Tōtōsai's voice lingered with a sigh for a single instant. Something flickered in those bulging eyes, but it was quickly buried beneath the thicket of his wrinkled face. He coughed once, his voice returning to normal.
"Fine, fine. This old man gets it." He glared at Shinji, but the wariness in his tone had mostly faded. "You're not one of Sesshōmaru's people. Inuyasha truly owes you his life. That flea Myōga's nose never lies." He added, "You can put this old man down now."
Shinji released his grip. The fact that this unexpected development had rendered most of his prepared rhetoric unnecessary, was a good thing. The short old yōkai landed on his feet, his stubby legs planting themselves on the scorching lava stone.
He dusted off his burnt-black tunic and lifted his head to look at the demon warrior towering over him by a full head and more.
"Speak, then." He picked up his forging hammer from the ground, he had no idea when it had fallen, and shouldered it. The panic in his bulging eyes was finally gone. All that remained was the shrewdness of an old craftsman facing a customer.
"What exactly did you seek this old man out for? If you want a demon blade forged, let me say this upfront, you'll need to prepare your own materials. This old man only handles the forging. I don't supply materials."
Shinji reached to his waist and drew Muramasa. The blade gleamed with a faint, dark crimson light in the orange glow of the volcano's crater. Along its cutting edge, that hair-fine crack was clearly visible.
Yōki seeped from the fissure, carrying a stifled, pent-up heat. The blade was humming. As if calling out. Shinji held Muramasa horizontally across his palms and extended it before Tōtōsai.
"Reforge it," he said. "This blade's sword-soul is on the verge of awakening. But the blade body can no longer bear it. I need you to reforge this sword for me."