Chapter 52: The Demon Slayer Village
The mountain path was rugged, a treacherous ribbon of stone and dirt that was difficult enough to traverse on its own. It became exponentially more so when carrying a weapon larger than a man.
Hiraikotsu was not light. It pressed down on Hikaru's back with a deep, unyielding weight. A chilling cold, born from the fused bones of countless demons, seeped through his clothes and into his very marrow, as if he were carrying a slab of thousand-year-old glacial ice.
Kobe Hikaru, however, didn't mind.
For the formidable physique of an Oni Samurai, this burden was little more than a light session of weight training. The real challenge, and the entire point of this exercise, was building affinity while on the move.
[Hiraikotsu: Affinity +1]
[Current Affinity: 5 (Slightly Pleased)]
[It thinks your technique for wiping off its dust was passable, but that was to be expected. It still doesn't want to talk to you.]
This thing really has a temper, Hikaru thought, a flicker of amusement in his mind. He reached back, his fingers patting the wide, smooth surface of the bone blade. It was as hard and unyielding as a slab of granite.
"We'll be at your home soon," he murmured. "Give me some face."
Hiraikotsu offered no reaction.
Suddenly, Kikyo, walking a few paces ahead, came to a halt. They were in a hilly region, flanked by cliffs that looked as though they had been carved by a giant's knife, leaving only this narrow path between them.
A strange wind gusted from the canyon, carrying a peculiar cocktail of scents. There was the sharp tang of sulfur and the bitter aroma of herbs—the kind used by those who lived in the wilderness to ward off insects—but beneath it all was the faint, coppery tang of old blood.
This was a smell unique to places that dealt in demon corpses.
The Demon Slayer Village. They had arrived.
"Wait," Kikyo said, raising a hand. Her iconic white sleeve fluttered in the wind.
Hikaru stood still. "What is it?"
"A barrier." Kikyo's gaze was fixed on the seemingly empty mountain pass ahead. "Someone has set up a barrier outside the village. This is not the work of a Demon Slayer."
In this world, in this country, in this war-torn era, the professions of mortals were distinct. Demon Slayers were a world apart from monks and miko. Slayers specialized in physical exorcism; whether it was with a colossal bone boomerang like Hiraikotsu or a simple sickle and chain, their primary method was to physically destroy their demonic foes.
Spiritual barriers, however, were the domain of monks and shrine maidens.
Hikaru activated his Spirit Vision, a gift granted by his mental link to the Naohi shard of the Shikon Jewel. As expected, a shimmering film of light materialized in his vision, sealing the entire mountain pass. The spiritual power flowing across its surface was remarkably pure. While it couldn't compare to the sheer magnitude of Kikyo's, it was undoubtedly high-level among mortals.
"It seems there are already guests inside," Hikaru noted, shifting the weight of Hiraikotsu on his back. "And the uninvited kind, at that."
Kikyo didn't speak. She simply stepped forward.
The moment she drew near, the barrier reacted as if it had touched a raging fire. A large hole melted open without a sound, the lesser spiritual power instantly and utterly crushed by her overwhelming presence.
The two passed through the mountain pass, and the view before them suddenly opened up.
A village, built defensively against the mountain, appeared before them. The wooden fence was easily over ten feet high, its sharpened tips painted with black lacquer and gruesomely decorated with the skulls of various demons. It looked less like a village and more like a military fortress.
At this moment, the main gate was sealed shut. Several men clad in leather armor stood watch on the tower, their spears pointed down at the newcomers.
"Stop!" a voice boomed from the watchtower. "Who goes there!"
Hikaru looked up. The men were coiled with tension, their knuckles white as they gripped their spear shafts. Their state was obvious at a glance—they were like birds ready to take flight at the slightest snap of a twig. With their village chief gone, along with the Shikon Jewel and Hiraikotsu, the village was leaderless and drowning in panic.
"Kikyo of Kaede Village," the miko announced. Her voice was not loud, but it possessed a penetrating clarity that carried effortlessly to the watchtower.
The men on the tower froze for a moment, followed by a sudden commotion.
"Lady Kikyo?"
"It really is Lady Kikyo!"
"That figure... it's her!"
The suffocating tension dissipated in an instant. The heavy wooden gate creaked open, and a dozen Demon Slayers rushed out. The man in the lead was a burly, middle-aged warrior, but his eyes were red-rimmed and raw with grief.
He saw Kikyo first. Then, his gaze fell upon the gray-clothed man behind her, and the enormous bone weapon he carried.
His eyes locked onto it.
"Hiraikotsu..." The burly man's voice trembled. "That is the village chief's Hiraikotsu!"
He stumbled forward, his hand reaching out as if to touch it, only to pull back at the last second. Overcome, he dropped to his knees with a heavy thud.
"...Then, where is the village chief?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper.
The other villagers began to surround them, their faces a mixture of hope and dread.
Hikaru lowered Hiraikotsu from his back, propping the massive weapon on the ground with a solid thud that shook the earth.
"He didn't come back," Hikaru stated bluntly. "I only brought this back. And his ashes."
Kikyo retrieved the plain cloth bag from her sleeve and presented it with both hands.
The burly man accepted it with trembling fingers. He pressed the small bag to his forehead and began to weep, his large frame wracked with the unrestrained sobs of a heartbroken child.
"That's enough," Hikaru said, his voice cutting through the tragic scene. "You can cry later. What's going on inside?"
He gestured with his chin toward the village depths. In his Spirit Vision, he could see a powerful fluctuation of spiritual energy—undoubtedly the source of the barrier they had just passed.
The burly man wiped his face, forcing himself to his feet. His expression turned ugly. "It is a miko."
"A miko?" Kikyo's eyes flickered with understanding.
"She arrived this morning," the man gritted out. "She said she sensed the aura of the Shikon Jewel. She insists the jewel should be kept by her, and she also wants to take over our village's demon-slaying commissions."
"Is she strong?"
"Strong," the Demon Slayer confirmed, his face flushing with embarrassment. "The few of us combined were no match for her. She released a single shikigami and took us all down."
Hikaru's expression tightened. While Demon Slayers were technically mortals, they spent their lives in brutal, hand-to-hand combat with demons. Their physical conditioning and resilience were extraordinary. From his perspective, they could easily hold their own against lesser demons. They were no match for high-level threats, but among humans, they were elite warriors. For a group of them to be defeated by a single shikigami...
This newcomer's background was indeed significant.
"Lead the way," Kikyo said simply.
The group walked into the village. The atmosphere within was oppressive. Dried demon limbs hung from the eaves of the houses, a gruesome sight that would make anyone's skin crawl.
They reached the central square, where a circle of villagers had gathered. They kept their distance, no one daring to step forward.
A woman stood in the very center.
She, too, wore the white robes and red hakama of a shrine maiden. But where Kikyo's presence was one of ethereal, aloof purity, the aura emanating from this woman was fierce and predatory.
Her back was turned to them as she idly toyed with a paper talisman in her hand.
Hearing their footsteps, she turned.
Her face was one of striking, severe beauty. The corners of her eyes tilted slightly upward, imbued with an innate arrogance and a razor-sharp edge.
"Finally here," she said, her gaze fixed solely on Kikyo. She crumpled the talisman in her hand into a tight ball and tossed it aside with casual disdain. "I knew it. That old man definitely gave the jewel to you."
"Kikyo." When she uttered the name, her tone held not a shred of respect, only pure, unadulterated provocation.
Kikyo stopped walking, her own expression as placid and unreadable as ever.
"Tsubaki," she replied, her voice calm.
The other woman, Tsubaki, looked at Kikyo and smiled, a chilling expression devoid of any warmth. "You're late."
She crossed her arms, her gaze sweeping dismissively over Kikyo before finally landing on Hikaru. Her eyes paused on Hiraikotsu for a fraction of a second, then fixed on Hikaru's face. It was the look a miko would give a demon—one of pure, unadulterated loathing.
"Not only are you late," Tsubaki sneered, "but you brought a demon with you?"
"Kikyo, you've fallen." Her voice dripped with mock pity. "The mighty, strongest miko... actually keeping a demon as a pet?"
Hikaru wasn't angry. He simply shifted the weight of Hiraikotsu, switching it to his other hand.
A silent message pulsed through his mind.
[The Naohi shard of the Shikon Jewel tells you: This woman is noisy. It doesn't like her.]
Hikaru allowed a faint, cold smile to touch his lips.
What a coincidence.
He didn't like her either.
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