The two places Kikyō wanted to go,
The first was the demon-slayer village (Yōkai taijiya village).
Or rather, they needed to pass through that village of demon slayers they had visited before.
When they arrived, and watched the wooden gate of the demon-slayer village open, Shinji nearly thought he had come to the wrong place.
Behind the gate stood nearly forty demon slayers.
All lined up.
All bowing in salute.
The leading burly man, that demon slayer named Matoba from before, planted both hands on his knees and performed a bow so deep it would have given anyone a herniated disc.
"Lady Kikyō! Lord Shinji! Welcome—!"
His voice was so loud it scared several children in the village behind him into shrinking into their mothers' arms.
Shinji raised a hand and pressed his temple.
The last time he had come, these people had been courteous, yes but at least it had been the courtesy of normal people.
Now this display, clearly, word had spread.
Lord of fourteen provinces of the east. Kishin Mikoto-no-Mitama. Grand Commander of the Hyaku Monogatari groups...
Plus the legend of the Demon Who Split the Sky from the battle that slew Menōmaru, and the news that Kikyō had become his legal wife—
From the demon slayers' perspective, the "shikigami of Lady Kikyō" they had once helped was now an existence they could never again look in the eye for the rest of their lives.
"All right, all right. Stop standing on ceremony."
Shinji stepped forward and reached out to pull Matoba to his feet.
The burly man was briefly stunned. He clearly had not expected that someone of the other's current status would personally help him up.
Even though the other was clearly a demon—and had, in fact, done quite a bit of odd work around the village back then.
Shinji naturally patted his shoulder.
"How's the Hiraikotsu? Has the village chief's grandson grown up?"
Matoba froze for two seconds.
Then, as though recalling the old village chief who had sacrificed himself so heroically, his eyes reddened faintly.
"The grandson... the eldest is six this year. He can barely lift the Hiraikotsu now. Though only barely—"
"That's good."
Shinji smiled.
Beside him, Kikyō watched this scene, a smile on her lips.
She was long accustomed to being revered.
As the strongest miko of Musashi Province, she had been kept at a distance ever since she began independent demon-slayer at age ten, respect and distance were always in direct proportion.
People respected her. Believed in her. Depended on her.
And precisely because of that, they dared not draw close.
However.
She tilted her body slightly.
Her left hand silently took the warm hand at her side.
At least now, she was no longer alone.
Fingers interlaced.
Feeling his wife's palm against his, Shinji tightened his grip in turn.
Softness.
Warmth.
Matoba and several demon slayers behind him saw this gesture.
Their expressions became exceedingly subtle.
Some were shocked.
Others wore expressions that said they had long heard of it, but seeing it with their own eyes still felt unbelievable.
And one young female demon slayer covered her mouth and let out an irrepressible "Wah!"
Kikyō's popularity had always been extremely high.
In the hearts of these ordinary demon slayers, she was likely an existence akin to a goddess.
This reaction was inevitable.
Shinji pretended not to hear.
Half an hour later.
Behind the demon-slayers' village, deep within the mountains.
Deeper than the area where they had once dealt with the demons under Kibutsuji Muzan.
The sunlight overhead was lush, gradually approaching dusk.
The group walked downward along a mountain path long buried by weeds.
Their shadows grew more dappled as the darkness seeped in.
This path was clearly rarely traveled.
Dry vines hung from the stone walls on either side.
Occasionally, bats swept overhead, the wind from their wings carrying a decay that had not dispersed for years.
Further down... was a cave.
A stalactite cave.
The entrance was not large.
But upon entering, the space abruptly opened wide.
Stone pillars stood in a forest.
Stalactites hung from the dome.
Some had already connected with the stalagmites below, forming complete natural pillars.
Deep within the cave, there was light.
That light did not come from torches or candles.
It seeped from deep within the stone walls, a pale white radiance.
It was the residual reiryoku left from centuries ago, when the Shikon no Tama was born.
Yes.
This was Kikyō's true destination, the birthplace of the Shikon no Tama.
Centuries ago, the strongest miko, Midoriko, had fought countless powerful demons here.
On the verge of death, she had used herself as the core, sealing all the demons' souls with the Four Souls; Aramitama courage, Nigimitama kinship, Kushimitama wisdom, Sakimitama love as the bindings, condensing them into that sacred jewel that had changed countless fates.
The traces of that battle, remained to this day.
In the deepest space of the cave, the figures that had been drained of their souls, as though petrified, still stood within the pale blue-white light.
Demons.
A seven-headed serpent demon's stone statue coiled upon the left wall.
Its seven heads faced seven directions.
The fury on its face was frozen forever in gray-white stone.
A colossal centipede demon's petrified remains sprawled across the cave floor.
Most of its body was severed.
A fist-sized hole pierced its abdomen.
Further away, two bull-demon statues still maintained a charging posture, the tips of their horns only 2 meters from the central position.
All demons that had fought Midoriko to the very end.
All sealed in frozen stone.
And at the very center of all the statues,
A woman's figure.
A petrified miko.
White robes and crimson hakama beneath armor.
Long hair to her waist.
Her face, covered in gray-white stone, still revealed an exquisite beauty, features a few years older than Kikyō's, an expression of both heroic spirit and composure.
Her gaze was lowered.
Neither sorrow nor joy.
Her longsword lay at her feet.
Both hands pressed together at the hollow in her chest where her heart had been, as though completing one final prayer.
Time within the cave seemed frozen at that moment centuries ago.
Frozen at the end of the battle, at the instant the Shikon no Tama was born.
Centuries had passed.
Demonic energy and reiryoku seemed to have reached an eternal equilibrium here.
Neither had dissipated.
They had simply turned to stone together.
Like an ancient epic.
A true epic of one person perishing together with the chaos of an age.
Gazing at this figure, Shinji could not possibly remain unmoved.
He also knew, Midoriko, who had lived in the late Heian era, was nearly the exemplar of single-handedly suppressing an age of demons.
Compared to Tōga, called the strongest demon of the Warring States, she was in no way inferior.
Kikyō stood before Midoriko's stone statue for a long time.
Her black hair drifted gently in the faint air currents deep within the cave.
Her white uwagi and crimson hakama reflected the spiritual light upon the stone walls.
How similar she was to the statue before her.
As the one who guarded the Shikon no Tama.
As a powerful miko.
Bearing the same power and solitude beyond mortal ken.
In this moment, gazing upon such a scene, Kikyō seemed to feel something...
She seemed, rather, to have thought of many things.
"Shinji. Thank you."
Then, she suddenly spoke.
Shinji was briefly stunned.
Then he took the miko's hand once more.
He said nothing.
He, of course, knew what Kikyō was thanking him for.
She had likely sensed it, without him, she very likely would have walked the same path as Midoriko.
He also knew why Kikyō had come here.
Midoriko had taken form within the Shikon no Tama as the Naohi, but that was only a projection of the soul.
She needed Midoriko's "dead soul", the haku that remained in the world after the soul's dissipation, the force that drove the body to move.
With the dead soul, Midoriko's manifested form could become more complete, truly approaching a living state from the illusory body of a tsukumogami.
That would be an existence capable of fully replacing Kikyō in guarding the Shikon no Tama,
But—
Kikyō pressed her hand against the chest of the statue.
After a moment, her expression froze.
"It's empty."
Kikyō withdrew her hand.
Her dark eyes turned to Shinji.
"The dead soul is gone."
"Taken by someone?"
"Mn. And it wasn't taken long ago, the Four Souls flow within the statue still remains. It should have been within the last two or three months."
Shinji's crimson demon eyes swept across the cave's spiritual light in a half circle.
Then, he "saw" a name from the System.
There was no need to ask, no need to look.
With the support of the earth's Affection, much information could be obtained directly from the "earth."
And that name was, unmistakably, from the original Inuyasha, the existence who specialized in collecting the bones of the dead and using secret arts to resurrect them.
The hag Urasue.
In the original story, that old woman had stolen Kikyō's ashes and resurrected her.
Though the timeline of this world was different, Urasue's methods were identical, taking the ashes of the dead, resurrecting the dead.
"I know who did it."
Shinji met Kikyō's questioning gaze.
"An old hag named Urasue."
Kikyō's brow furrowed faintly.
"You know her?"
"I've heard of her, more or less."
A work he had seen in his previous life.
He had indeed heard of her.
"Let's go. I'll handle it."
He took Kikyō's hand and turned toward the cave entrance.
After two steps, he stopped and looked back at the petrified miko.
"Midoriko."
He spoke to the stone statue.
"I'll bring your things back soon."
The statue naturally did not respond.
But the Shikon no Tama at his waist warmed faintly in that moment.
By the time they emerged from the cavern, it was already evening.
Their figures cast long vermillion shadows in the setting sun.
"Tanuki Jūsaburō."
The great fluffy tail bounced out from behind the tree shadows.
"Here! Master!"
"Find an old hag named 'Urasue.' She specializes in resurrection arts using the bones of the dead. Her range of activity is likely in the deep mountains between Musashi and Kōzuke."
"Got it!"
Tanuki Jūsaburō's tiny bean-eyes rolled once.
"And after I find her?"
"She has something in her possession. Midoriko's dead soul... Bring it back."
Tanuki Jūsaburō's tail fur bristled for an instant; he, of course, knew who Midoriko was.
The creator of the Shikon no Tama.
The strongest miko of the Heian era centuries ago.
"Understood! I'll arrange it at once—"
He turned and bounded onto the corridor railing, directly using his "lightfoot" technique to run off.
Shinji watched the great tanuki's departing back, unhurried, and led Kikyō back to the demon-extermination village.
Next, all they had to do was wait.
Ten minutes later.
Tanuki Jūsaburō rode upon the back of a messenger crow, flying toward the Seventeenth Group officer of the Hyaku Monogatari groups in northern Musashi, the Red Fire Crow.
The grand intelligence chief of the Hyaku Monogatari groups, a great tanuki, had no intention of doing the work himself.
Thus.
Half an incense stick later.
The Red Fire Crow received the order.
Immediately after.
The Sixth Transformation fire-crow demon blinked its three eyes and handed the bamboo scroll to three little demons crouched beside it.
It, too, had no intention of doing the work itself.
Merely an old hag.
"You three go."
"Boss, where to?"
"In the mountains east of Kōzuke. Find an old woman named Urasue. Bring back something she has."
"What thing?"
"Why so many questions? How would I know? The Master wants it. You'll know when you get there."
The three demons exchanged glances.
"Is the old hag strong?"
"Just a demon hag who steals corpses and practices resurrection arts. What do you think? Can't the three of you take her together?"
"...Fine."
That night.
Eastern Kōzuke.
Mount Dry Bones.
Within a ruined shack built upon a cliff's edge, a hunched old woman was placing a half-finished clay human shell into a kiln.
The kiln fire illuminated her deeply wrinkled face.
Sunken cheeks.
Dry, withered white hair.
On the shelf behind her sat a clay jar sealed with a talisman; within the jar, a pale white light could be faintly seen circulating.
That was Midoriko's dead soul.
The hag Urasue had set her sights on that stalactite cave near the demon-slayers' village months ago, the residual reiryoku at the birthplace of the Shikon no Tama was far too conspicuous.
Ever since she had accidentally heard, during her travels in the distant Western Lands, that the legendary jewel had fallen into the hands of a certain miko, an ancient idea had taken root in her mind,
Use Midoriko's dead soul to forge a shell.
Resurrect a miko puppet under her control.
Then use the puppet to approach the Shikon no Tama.
This was her specialty.
The plan was perfect.
The only problem was, she had no idea what kind of existence the current holder of the Shikon no Tama and the one beside her, truly were.
"Kishin Mikoto-no-Mitama? Hyaku Monogatari groups? The Demon Who Split the Sky?"
Urasue had spent the past half-year in the mountains, knowing nothing of outside news.
She had picked up fragments of rumors along the way, but understood none of them clearly.
"Hmph. Demon God or whatever. This old woman isn't afraid—"
Creak!
Before she could finish.
The wooden door of the shack was thrown open.
Outside stood three demons.
The one in front was a one-eyed priest, carrying a club thicker than its own body.
On the right was a fire-rat, a bamboo scroll in its mouth, sparks flying from its tail.
On the left was a kappa.
A little kappa, barely even Fourth Transformation.
But upon its shell was carved the emblem of the Hyaku Monogatari groups.
"You're the hag Urasue?"
The one-eyed priest tilted its head and asked.
Urasue tightened her grip on the bone needle in her hand.
"What are you things!?"
"By the Master's order, we've come to take something."
The one-eyed priest planted its club on the ground, shaking half the roof tiles loose.
"If you're smart, hand it over. If not..."
The fire-rat opened its mouth.
The bamboo scroll dropped to the ground.
Two fireballs had already formed in its jaws.
The kappa pulled a sharpened wooden stick from behind its back.
"..."
Urasue looked at these three, who appeared to be nothing more than lesser demons, and a thought flashed through her mind.
These are the ones that Demon God sent?
Just this?
She took down a shield-bone the size of a bronze gong from the top of the shack, a piece of armor assembled from the shoulder blades of several demons, its surface covered in curse patterns.
"This old woman will see—"
The club came down.
The one-eyed priest's club technique was nothing refined.
If one looked only at demonic energy, it was not particularly strong either.
But if she had encountered other scattered, masterless demons or demons without "guidance", Urasue's judgment would not have been wrong.
Ordinary demons, even those strengthened by osore, only mutated by instinct; haphazard, cobbled together in confusion.
But the demons of the Hyaku Monogatari groups possessed the "Twenty-Four Transformations" system taught by Shinji.
Every demon understood the basic path of demonkind.
And understood how to combine their own race with "mutation" to grow stronger.
As it happened, the one-eyed priest, after its initial basic form change, had devoted its next four transformations entirely to strength!
The full force of a Fourth Transformation's power, unleashed, was undeniably devastating even against a wooden shack.
The entire roof, along with two walls, was blown away.
Urasue was hurled nine meter back by the shockwave.
Her shield-bone cracked.
Before she could even be surprised, before she could even steady herself, the fire-rat's two fireballs had already shot along the ground toward her.
Their speed, too, was far beyond that of ordinary, haphazardly mutated demons.
Urasue's eyes nearly bulged out.
She scrambled sideways.
The first grazed her sleeve, scorching half her hem.
The second struck the kiln behind her.
The kiln exploded.
The clay shell she had spent three months refining, shattered.
"MY FINISHED WORK!!"
Urasue's scream was louder than the kiln's explosion.
But the kappa seized the opening, grabbed the clay jar sealed with the dead soul, and ran.
Ran extremely fast.
Its four short legs pumping like clockwork.
"STOP!"
Urasue lunged.
The one-eyed priest's club barred her way.
"Don't chase, old woman."
The club pressed down, driving Urasue's shield-bone into the mud.
"No good comes from opposing the Master... Do you even know who our Master is?"
"What Master! Give me back my dead soul!"
"The Demon Who Split the Sky. Lord of fourteen provinces of the east. Kishin Mikoto-no-Mitama— Nakai Shinji."
When the one-eyed priest uttered that string of titles, it was clearly very pleased with itself, nostrils pointing at the sky.
Urasue's struggles stopped.
"...That lord... wants the dead soul in this old woman's hands?"
"Not yours. That thing was never yours to begin with. You stole it."
Urasue's expression shifted several times.
In the end, she let go.
The shield-bone fell to the ground with a dull thud.
Her hunched body hunched further still.
The kappa had already run far.
The fire-rat, clay jar in its jaws, chased after.
The one-eyed priest withdrew its club and followed two steps, then glanced back at the old woman crouched in the ruins.
"One piece of advice... Stop coveting the Shikon no Tama. Its owner is far more terrifying than the jewel itself."
Urasue sat beside the broken kiln, clay shell fragments and bone ash scattered everywhere.
Three months of effort, gone.
She lifted her head and watched the direction the three demons had vanished.
Her withered fingers clenched the fabric at her knees.
"Kishin... Mikoto-no-Mitama..."
She repeated the name.
Then,
She stood up.
And ran in the completely opposite direction.
Ran faster than that kappa.
Three months of work snatched away in five minutes by three little demons who looked ordinary but were actually terrifyingly strong, Urasue felt she never wanted to set foot in the eastern lands again for the rest of her life.
The Shikon no Tama, she no longer cared.
No longer wanted it.
The demons here, were uncanny.
Far too uncanny!