Time stopped.
At least, the "people" present felt as though time had stopped.
Yoshimoto's lips were pressed against that pale, cold face. Golden motes of light poured from her body, spreading outward along the bone and thunder of the Shura Form in every direction.
The vow-power of the Six-Tusked White Elephant. The "deeds" and "momentum" condensed from Taigen Sessai's lifetime of cultivation. All of it, poured into the Shura Form's chest within that single kiss. The Human Soul, condensed. Heaven. Earth. Man. The Three Souls, complete.
But Yoshimoto herself had never imagined it would turn out like this. When the white elephant had carried her to the mountain peak and charged into the corridor, what had been in her mind was how to transfer the white elephant over.
The white elephant had only given her a single image, the face of Master Taigen Sessai, and a vague, formless intent. That intent, translated into human speech, was… Use your heart.
At the time, Yoshimoto had thought to reach out and press her hand against it. But the spirit-body of the white elephant, the instant it fused into her body, had generated an immense surge of force. Her posture, sliding off the elephant's back, had been completely beyond her control.
And so....
"?" Yoshimoto's amber eyes flew perfectly round within the golden light. Her mind went utterly blank.
Beyond the collapsed gap in the southern wall of the corridor, Kikyō stood upon a heap of shattered stone. She, naturally, saw it. Clearly. Distinctly. Not a single detail missed. Thus, the arrow nocked upon her bowstring slipped free. This was the first time in her life she had ever lost her grip.
Within the thoracic cavity of the Shura Form, Shinji's own consciousness was, on the other hand, exceptionally lucid. He felt the condensation of the Human Soul. He felt the completion of the Three Souls returning to their rightful places. He felt that vast, boundless majesty as the threefold forces of Heaven, Earth, and Man intersected within his body.
He also felt that warm, soft sensation upon his lips.
"…"
'Taigen Sessai. Are you screwing with me!?'
In the span of a lightning flash, Shinji understood everything. Those words Taigen Sessai had spoken to him in the shrine atop the tenshukaku on her deathbed, that had truly been an entrustment.
The will she had left within the white elephant. The images transmitted to Yoshimoto. Even Yoshimoto's slide off the elephant's back. All of it, was Taigen Sessai's design.
That monk who had calculated the exact moment he would borrow and return the blade with nothing but a human mind. That existence called the Black-Robed Chancellor. She must have calculated this step as well before her death.
Calculated that Shinji would need the Human Soul. Calculated that the Human Soul would need a vessel. Calculated that the most suitable vessel would be her student.
'Was she packaging up her "daughter" and selling her off right here?'
He grumbled inwardly. But on the other hand, the touch of a daimyō was indeed quite pleasant. Soft. Warm. Carrying the unique scent and flustered panic of a young girl.
A different sensation from Kikyō. Though they had parted after only a fleeting moment, and Yoshimoto had landed lightly upon the ground. Though this thought merely flickered through Shinji's mind before being submerged beneath even more violent transformations.
The Three Souls, returned to their places. The Heaven Soul dwelled at the crown. The spiritual resonance of the Shikon no Tama transformed into a ring of silver-white light, suspended above the Shura Form's cranium, rotating slowly.
The Earth Soul dwelled in the abdomen. The demonic origin of the demon warrior sank deep into the abdominal cavity. Dark crimson roots burrowed into the deepest layer of the Five Viscera cycle.
The Human Soul dwelled at the center. Golden motes of light condensed and took form at the very heart of the Shura Form's chest, overlapping with the core of the Five Viscera cycle, like a beating heart sheathed in an additional layer of a golden shell.
The Three Souls and Five Viscera resonated in a single, unified instant. The Eleventh Transformation, following the Tenth. Achieved in a single step.
Yet the Bone Thunder Shura instead began to contract violently. Seven meters. Five meters. Three meters. The skeletal frame did not collapse. The thunder-body did not disintegrate. As they shrank, they grew even denser. So dense that no gap was visible to the naked eye. So dense that even air could not squeeze through.
And finally, it retracted back into his body. The Shura Form vanished. The six-meter Bone Thunder colossus was completely compressed back into Shinji's body within the span of three breaths. Merged into one with his true form.
Yes. This.... was unmistakably the Twelfth Transformation that Shinji had envisioned.
Return to One. From demon to ma. From death to life. Since the Eleventh Transformation was complete, the Twelfth could naturally also be achieved. A single step taken. A single stride completed!
Shinji's body was undergoing transformation. Deep crimson veins surfaced upon his pale skin, like molten lava flowing beneath a sheet of ice.
They spread from the sides of his neck to his cheeks. From the backs of his hands to his fingertips. And then, they coalesced into a dense, overlapping armor of scales.
In appearance, it resembled bone, yet it carried the luster of metal. It wrapped tight around his limbs and torso, tracing the powerful contours of his musculature.
At his crown, the roots of his pale, flowing hair began to shift in color. Dark crimson. Silver-white. Emerald green. Pale yellow. Ink-black. Five colors flickered in alternation.
Finally, they settled back to their original pallor, but the ends of his hair now carried a faint, ghostly trace of blood-red.
Two horns sprouted from his hairline on either side of his forehead. Not large, each the length of a palm. They curved backward. Their surfaces were etched with bone-like patterns. Between those patterns, arcs of lightning faintly danced.
The color of his crimson demon eyes deepened further. Upon a base of scarlet were now layered five-colored veins, violet, orange, silver, emerald, and pale white. Like five rivers converging into a single sea.
The whites of his eyes remained pitch-black. But there was one addition: an exceedingly fine ring of golden light. The mark of the Human Soul. Neither dead nor alive. Neither human nor demon. Wholly human. And wholly yōkai.
He had come alive. Truly come alive. His heart was beating. His blood was flowing. His lungs were breathing. The Demon's Breath operated autonomously. Every exhalation carried a violet, ghostly luminescence, the impure energy of heaven and earth.
Beyond that... his liver, too, was now active. All had returned from death to life. His skin was no longer the pallor of a corpse. It was the white of warmth. He looked down at his own hand. His five fingers spread wide. Blood-fire seeped from between his fingers and retracted once more. Thunder leaped once within his bones and fell still.
The power of the Shura Form had not vanished. It was within him, fused into one with his body. It could still be unleashed at any moment. Amplified outward. Manifesting the colossal Bone Thunder Shura once more. The Five Viscera cycled within his abdominal cavity.
The Three Souls rested in their respective positions. He could feel every single bone. Every blood vessel. Every inch of skin. Completely overlapping with the Bone Thunder structure of the Shura Form. Inner and outer, unified into one.
At the same time, the shattered remnants of the four Guardian Spirits he had devoured had not vanished either. The Six-Tusked White Elephant was seated at the center of the Human Soul, commanding all, like spirit and will united.
The Golden Lion. The Celestial-Eye Peacock. The Leopard-Tail God. The fragments of those three spirit-bodies transformed into three latent forces within him. They could be switched at will. Vajra, Indestructible. The surface of that crimson scale armor was instantly coated in a layer of golden luster. Its hardness skyrocketed to a degree that even his own Onikiri might not be able to cut through.
Leopard-Tail, Godspeed. The instant the force activated, his body vanished from where it stood. Speed so fast the naked eye could not follow. So fast that sound itself was left behind, trailing desperately in his wake. It surpassed the limits of the Lightning-Sinewed Body. Surpassed thunder itself. By the time he reappeared ten paces away, the air was only just beginning to fill the vacuum he had left behind.
Celestial-Eye, Pierce. The talent of the three-eyed peacock fused into his vision. The perception of his crimson demon eyes skyrocketed. The Bodhisattva Aspect of Saint Hakurei, in his eyes, was no longer merely a buddha. It became countless, vividly clear meridian lines. Every line's direction. Its strength. Its weakness. All laid bare before him in a single glance.
The Transformation of the Five Viscera. The Body of the Three Souls. The Demon of Return to One.
This was Shinji's Twelfth Transformation.
Yoshimoto still hadn't recovered from her shock. She had long since collapsed onto the shattered stone floor. She lifted her head and stared at the demon warrior before her, whose form had utterly changed.
No. The Shinji before her now could only be called a ma. Two horns had sprouted from his head. His eyes were even more terrifying.
But his face....seemed even more striking? And his skin seemed to be radiating a gentle, steaming heat. It seemed… to have a temperature now? She unconsciously touched her own lips. There truly was warmth. Her face instantly flushed crimson once more.
At the collapsed breach of the corridor, Kikyō had retrieved the fallen arrow and nocked it once more upon her bowstring. Upon her cold, clear features, there was little extraneous emotion. She did not look at Yoshimoto. She only looked at Shinji.
At that ma, who had risen from death back to life. Her beloved. And then... a faint, shallow smile curved upon her lips. No matter what, he had succeeded.
Shinji then reined in his scattered thoughts and turned his gaze once more toward Saint Hakurei. The Bodhisattva Aspect of Saint Hakurei still loomed at the far end of the corridor. Two of his four arms had already developed cracks. The lingering aftereffects of having the Guardian Spirits torn from him.
Yet he was still mighty. Still the flesh-buddha condensed from the vow-power of saving hundreds of thousands of souls, layered over centuries of time. A bodhisattva of the flesh. A terrifying existence whose power rivaled, if not surpassed, a daiyōkai.
Only, his withered eyes, now the golden eyes of the Bodhisattva Aspect, held a fluctuation never before seen. He had witnessed, from beginning to end, the yōkai before him complete two metamorphoses within the span of a few breaths.
From the Tenth Transformation, to the Eleventh, to the Twelfth. Return to One. Only now did he realize, with a start, the demon before him had come alive.
Alive. What he had once yearned for. What he had once desperately craved. In the next second, Shinji drew his blade once more.
In the next instant, Onikiri left its sheath. No projection and amplification of the Shura Form. No assistance from osore. Only himself. His true body, after the Twelfth Transformation's Return to One. And a single demon blade, named Onikiri. Extreme Will condensed upon its cutting edge. The Godspeed of the Leopard-Tail God activated.
He vanished. When he reappeared, he was already directly before the Bodhisattva Aspect. The tip of Onikiri thrust into a half-inch crevice. Blood-fire poured in. Dark crimson flames spread inward along that crevice into the interior of the Bodhisattva Aspect, eroding the buddha-body of vow-power.
Saint Hakurei's golden eyes flew wide. All four arms swung down simultaneously. Vajra. Lotus. Treasure sword. Prayer beads. Four ritual implements smashed toward Shinji's position from four directions.
Shinji did not move a single inch. He simply activated Vajra, Indestructible. The golden luster coated his entire body. The Vajra smashed against his shoulder. His shoulder did not shatter. The treasure sword cleaved across his back. His back did not move a single inch. The Talent of Immovable Earth was still in effect. The vow-power shockwave of the lotus slammed against his chest. He did not retreat even half a step.
The one hundred and eight beads of the prayer string detonated simultaneously, engulfing his entire form in a golden explosion. When the ensuing dust and smoke cleared, Shinji still stood where he was.
But Onikiri, in his hand, had advanced. It sank into the crevice of the Bodhisattva Aspect. Blood-fire spread inward, searing and burning.
He lifted his head. His crimson demon eyes met the golden eyes of Saint Hakurei. The light within those withered, desiccated eyes, wavered. The immovable flesh-buddha, from this moment forth, was, at last, shaken!
Yet it was only for an instant. A single second. In the next moment, Saint Hakurei's four arms swung down once more. This time, Shinji did not take them head-on.
The Swiftness of the Guardian Spirit Leopard-Tail activated in an instant. His figure vanished from where it stood. Onikiri followed the motion and withdrew, trailing a string of dark crimson sparks.
He reappeared to the left of the Bodhisattva Aspect. Less than three shaku away. The Vajra smashed empty air. The stone steps were pulverized into dust. Onikiri swept horizontally with the motion.
The blade-light of blood-fire carved past the flank of the Bodhisattva Aspect. The outer shell of vow-power was seared open with a scorched-black scar. Shallow. It did not wound the foundation.
But immediately following, his right hand turned the blade, the sword momentum unceasing. At the tail end of this slash, the Blood-Fire Transformation abruptly shifted in nature.
Within the dark crimson flames, an additional layer surfaced, a deep, earthen yellow radiance. The power of the Shura-Spleen surged forth along the blade of Onikiri, fusing with the blood-fire.
The blade grew heavy. So heavy that even the air itself seemed to plummet downward. The same slash, its first half was fire. Its second half was earth. Fire seared the surface. Earth fractured the bone. The scorched-black scar deepened from shallow to deep.
The Bodhisattva Aspect was jolted with spiderweb-like cracks. Saint Hakurei's golden eyes flickered. His lotus-arm swept horizontally. Vow-power transformed into golden lotus petals that filled the sky in a furious barrage.
Shinji once more chose not to evade or block. Vajra, Indestructible coated his body. The golden luster streamed across his entire form. The lotus petals slammed against his shoulder. His chest. His face. The impact rang out like iron hammers striking an anvil. Sparks flew in every direction. He did not shatter. He simply walked forward two steps, shouldering the sky full of lotus petals.
Blade-light rose once more. But it was no longer Onikiri. It was Yomi-giri. On this blade, what wrapped the cutting edge was no longer blood-fire. A ghostly violet, mist-like light seeped from the blade's body. The Shura-Lungs. The Demon's Breath, now operating autonomously after the Twelfth Transformation's Return to One, every breath of refined impure energy it exhaled could now directly adhere to the blade without any additional mobilization.
The purging, killing power of the Metal element condensed along the blade. The temperature at its cutting edge seemed to plunge below freezing in an instant. A single upward slash. The treasure-sword arm on the right side of the Bodhisattva Aspect caught the strike.
The golden ritual implement collided with the blade-light. The instant they touched, frost spread. The ghostly violet light crept along the surface of the treasure-sword arm, coating the entire limb. The flow of vow-power was frozen solid.
Saint Hakurei's golden eyes flickered once more. His other arm swept the prayer beads forward. One hundred and eight beads scattered completely, forming an encirclement net.
Shinji spread his left hand wide. His pale, flowing hair exploded outward from the ends. The Hair Transformation, which reached every extremity, activated. Emerald patterns of wind and thunder leaped between the strands. The growth-power of the Wood element drove every single hair to extend and weave madly, forming a dense, impenetrable hair-net that caught the prayer beads head-on.
The prayer beads detonated. Golden light erupted within the hair-net, searing through dozens of strands. But more strands regrew from the severed ends, growing even faster than they were burned away. Wood generated Fire. Fire generated Earth. Earth generated Metal. Metal generated Water. Water generated Wood. The Five Elements cycle turned soundlessly within his body.
Every force no longer needed to be deliberately mobilized. They circulated on their own. Replenished on their own. Switched on their own. If he needed blood-fire, there was blood-fire. If he needed Yomi, there was Yomi. If he needed the weight of Earth, there was the weight of Earth. If he needed the growth of Wood, there was the growth of Wood. If he needed the poison of Water, there was the poison of Water.
It was not the alternating use of five different vessels. It was a single person, simultaneously possessing five instincts. Beyond this, he still had three more vessels. Both hands gripped twin blades. Banryū erupted forth of its own accord from behind his back.
Max Affection had long since surpassed the threshold for autonomous assistance. Now, it rose like a towering mountain into the air and crashed down with crushing, absolute weight! Fire seared. Ice sealed. Earth shattered. Triple-layered superposition.
The Bodhisattva Aspect only had time to raise two arms to block simultaneously. The Vajra caught the fire. The lotus caught the ice. The remaining arms had long since cracked. They could not catch the earth. The colossal greatsword Banryū pierced through the gap and smashed directly into the chest of the Bodhisattva Aspect.
BOOM.
The Bodhisattva Aspect retreated yet another step. The entirety of Mount Hakurei shuddered with it. This was the second time Saint Hakurei had been shaken. And the first time he had ever retreated after becoming a flesh-bodhisattva.
Shinji sheathed his blades. He stood where he was. His breathing was steady. The Demon's Breath operated autonomously. Violet light spilled from his nostrils with each exhale and was drawn back in.
He could feel it. They were evenly matched. After the Twelfth Transformation's Return to One, supplemented by the Twin Souls of Heaven and Earth and the remnants of the Guardian Spirits, he could now face this Bodhisattva Aspect in direct combat without being at a disadvantage.
Yet a stalemate was also the limit. Saint Hakurei's defense was far too thick. The flesh-buddha condensed from centuries of vow-power. That petrified body was, in itself, a mountain. Every inch of skin carried vast, terrifying vow-power, truly no less than any daiyōkai.
Against such an opponent, Shinji's attacks could wound the surface. Could fracture the bone. Could sear the outer shell of vow-power. But they could not pierce through to its very foundation.
On the other hand, Saint Hakurei's offensive options were also limited. Prayer beads. Lotus petals. Pillars of light. Purifying palms. Over and over, the same few techniques. Their power was indeed immense. But they lacked variation. There was no continuity. No coordination between feint and true strike. After all, he was no true warrior.
In life, Saint Hakurei had been a monk who bestowed grace and saved souls. Not a hōshi who subdued demons. Not a guardian warrior-monk. In death, he was a resentful buddha, trapped within a mountain.
One could say, from life until now, long after death, he had never once fought a battle. His strength came from the sheer vastness of his vow-power, not from combat. His defense was unparalleled. His offense, insufficient.
If this battle dragged on like this, neither could do anything to the other. That being said, to be able to cross blades with an opponent of this caliber… to some degree, Shinji could also be called a daiyōkai!
Even the humanoid form of an ordinary daiyōkai, Sesshōmaru, for instance, might not necessarily be a match for Shinji as he was now. Unless they manifested their beast-form through an eruption of yōki, or even other forms that appeared in this merged world. But that was another matter entirely.
"You are powerful." Saint Hakurei's voice emerged from the mouth of the Bodhisattva Aspect. His golden eyes were fixed upon Shinji. The murky resentment and buddha-nature churned in alternation within the depths of his pupils.
"But you… still have a flaw."
Shinji's movements paused for a single beat. Saint Hakurei's golden eyes, beneath an insight akin to the Celestial Eye, swept inch by inch across his body.
"The Five Viscera are complete. The Three Souls have returned to their places. The Five Elements cycle operates without obstruction. But you still have one step left uncompleted. You are still short a single step." He spoke very slowly. Yet every word was correct.
The Twelfth Transformation's Return to One had brought Shinji's instantaneous burst close to the threshold of a daiyōkai. But there was, indeed, a deficiency. That deficiency, was his Spiritual Heart. Shinji, as a ma who had risen from death to life, neither dead nor alive, of perfect quality still carried countless distracting thoughts and impurities within his Spiritual Heart.
He possessed the desires of a demon. The attachments of a human. This was, indeed, Shinji's flaw. But to this, he merely lowered his twin blades. He lifted his gaze. His crimson demon eyes stared directly at Saint Hakurei across from him. "I know," he said. He continued, "I left it there on purpose."
Saint Hakurei's golden eyes narrowed faintly. Shinji sheathed Onikiri. The click of the tsuba seating home rang out with startling clarity in the silent corridor.
"Because I believe in a single truth. In this world, there is no such thing as true, flawless perfection. That which has a flaw, is, in turn, true completion." He spoke.
"After all, if I were flawlessly perfect from this point on… what about the future? I'm afraid, there would be no future at all, would there?" He lifted his head.
The golden ring within his crimson demon eyes rotated faintly. These words were spoken as lightly as a drifting cloud. Yet they made Saint Hakurei's eyes fly wide. Within those golden bodhisattva eyes, the churning of resentment and buddha-nature halted simultaneously.
He stared at this yōkai, who had just been completely reborn, and heard a sentence utterly beyond anything he had anticipated.
Deliberately leaving a flaw. Not seeking perfection. Because he still wishes to advance. Because the road is still long. Because there are still far, far more distant places to go.
Saint Hakurei's lips moved. No sound emerged. As though he had realized something. Upon that desiccated, withered face, the solemn, majestic lines of the Bodhisattva Aspect visibly loosened.