Far, far across the land. West of Kyōto. The border of Yamato Province. Deep within the mountain ridges.
A temple built atop a mountain peak—no. It could not be called a temple.
It was more akin to a palace. Gold leaf plated the roofs. Vermillion lacquered the pillars. The halls cascaded nine layers deep, their grandeur reaching a degree that bordered on the absurd. Built amidst desolate, uninhabited mountains for dozens of metres in every direction, yet it blazed with gold and jade, as though a celestial palace had descended to the mortal realm.
At the highest point of the complex, atop the ninth-story pagoda, a woman stood beside the railing. She wore crimson priestly robes. Layer upon layer of silk and gossamer were embroidered with the esoteric Sanskrit and lotus motifs unique to the mystical teachings, yet upon closer inspection, they had been subtly warped at the crucial points.
The orthodox Sanskrit had been twisted into something older. Something far more ambiguous. Her face was extraordinarily beautiful. So beautiful it reached a degree that made one deeply uneasy. Too perfect. As though meticulously carved. Flawless in every detail, and thus, utterly devoid of any trace of "humanity."
Her black hair cascaded like a waterfall to her waist. Within it was pinned a single golden datura flower in full bloom. Her eyes were gold. Not the slit-pupils of a yōkai, normal, round pupils. But that gold was pure to the absolute extreme.
What was reflected within those pupils was not the scenery before her, but the image of something of a far higher order.
Sesshō-in Kiara. The true Sesshō-in Kiara. Not the puppet whose name had been stolen by a demon, but the true founder of the Tachikawa sect.
A living human. Yes. She was a living, breathing human. At least, her physical body was human. As for her soul… that was another story entirely.
At this moment, she stood at the peak of the nine-story pagoda, gazing far into the east. The eastern sky had blazed once, half an hour ago. It was the light of reiryoku produced when the Earth Barrier unfurled, when the faith of two provinces converged upon Kikyō alone.
A radiance that had shrouded the three provinces of Musashi, Sagami, and Kōzuke. Though it had lasted barely half the night before dispersing, the lingering resonance of that light still echoed within Sesshō-in Kiara's pupils. She had seen it. With those golden eyes that could pierce through the mundane and grasp the essence of all things, she had seen the source of that light.
Not the miko. The miko was merely the nexus. The true source was faith. The faith of tens of thousands, hundreds of thousands of people. Directed toward a single existence. The name of that existence, within that radiance, had been endlessly layered, amplified, and sublimated by the thoughts of countless hearts. Kishin · Nakai Shinji. The Demon God, Shinji.
Sesshō-in Kiara's golden eyes narrowed faintly. The corner of her lips curved upward. That smile was exceedingly faint. Yet exceedingly profound. Like the curve at the corner of a Buddha's lips. Compassion and cruelty coexisting. The sacred and the profane, one.
"I see him." She spoke. Her voice was clear and melodious, like a bell swaying in the wind. Behind her knelt two rows of attendants. All young women, clad in unified plain white robes. Heads bowed. None dared lift their eyes.
Sesshō-in Kiara turned and looked upon her devotees. Her golden eyes blazed with radiant brilliance in the morning light. "I have seen our 'God,'" she said. Her voice carried a strange, inexplicable reverence. A reverence so thick it made one's scalp prickle.
"He is beautiful."
She extended a hand. Her long, slender fingertips traced gently through the air, as though outlining the contours of someone far, far away. "More beautiful than any god or buddha I have ever seen. More beautiful than Bishamonten. More beautiful than Dainichi Nyorai. More beautiful… than even I myself."
Her lips parted slightly, revealing a smile of dazzling brilliance. That smile was as bright as the sun. Yet as dark as the abyss. "One day…" She pressed her hand over her own heart. "I shall go to meet Him. And then, I shall offer Him… the most devout of offerings."
The kneeling attendants all lowered their heads even further. It was both reverence and fear. Because they knew, the "offerings" their Founder spoke of had never been mere incense, flowers, or prayers.
....
Echigo Province. Kasugayama Castle.
The main keep. The deep night had passed. The sky was nearing dawn. The wooden floorboards of the long corridor were polished to a flawless sheen, each step producing the faintest creak. Aya-Gozen passed through the corridor. The hem of her deep indigo riding kimono was dusted with the grime of a hundred kilometers of travel.
Several strands of black hair had slipped loose from the bun at the back of her head and now fell beside her ears. She stopped before a shōji door left slightly ajar. From within came the sound of paper rustling, and an exceedingly faint nasal sound, somewhere between a sigh and sheer exasperation.
Aya-Gozen pushed open the door. The second-generation Uesugi Kenshin sat behind a mountain of documents. Her blue haori hung loose and slack over her shoulders. Her deep blue hair was unbound, half of it spilling loose. Her headscarf had been tossed to some forgotten corner.
The girl's features were delicate and striking. But at this moment, those indifferent eyes were filled with an emotion Aya-Gozen found exceedingly rare. Distress.
"…The budget doesn't add up." She clutched a document, her brows furrowed into a tight knot. "The repair costs for the northern coast of Echigo after it was raided by the Imagawa fleet, how can it be higher than the entire military expenditure for all of last year?"
"Because the fishing ports were also burned, Kagetora." Aya-Gozen addressed her by her true name as she walked in and knelt across from her. Truly, it was unbelievable. The previous Nagao Kagetora would never have shown such a distressed expression.
It seemed that trip to Musashi Province in the Kantō had indeed left a profound impact on this girl. Being forced to kneel before that person, and all…
The second-generation Kenshin muttered again. "And what about this, the compensation demands sent from Musashi. Hōjō Ujiyasu wants us to pay for the repairs of several border fortresses. On what grounds? She was the one who couldn't hold them herself! And the reparations demanded by the Imagawa… plus the pensions for those three thousand wounded and disabled soldiers, no matter how I calculate it, it's not enough!"
"Because you were the one who started the war. And in the end, you lost. You withdrew and signed the treaty."
"…"
Uesugi Kenshin slapped the document onto the desk. Those eye, which should have been indifferent to the point of near-inhumanity, now held a strange, aggrieved look. After all… that war hadn't really been fought by her!
She muttered, "Why hasn't Lord Nakai Shinji released Kanetsugu yet?" Naoe Kanetsugu. Though Kenshin didn't actually know her personally, according to those around her, she was an exceedingly capable subordinate. Even the previous Kenshin had prepared a contingency to preserve her life. A true talent.
Aya-Gozen smiled. That smile was soft and warm. The features so similar to Kenshin's held even more warmth within her laughter. "These are all matters you should be learning to handle yourself, Kenshin."
"I'm a War God. Not a civil clerk."
"Bishamonten, even in the Buddhist pantheon, is also a God of Wealth. He has to manage accounts, you know?"
Kenshin fell silent. She knew she could never out-argue her sister. She could only lower her head and continue rifling through the documents. After flipping through two more pages, she looked up again. "Sister, was your journey back smooth?"
"It was tolerable." Aya-Gozen paused. "I encountered a yōkai."
Kenshin's movements stopped. "What kind of yōkai?"
"White, flowing hair. Demon eyes. Two blades hanging at his waist. During the day, he kept speaking to the flowers, the grass, the trees, even the stones, by the roadside. At night, he cut down dozens of things that looked like demons with a single slash." Aya-Gozen's tone swayed slightly, as though she found it all rather fascinating.
She cast a sidelong glance at the girl before her, her younger sister, and also her liege, the current head of the Uesugi clan.
"He bore your presence upon him, Kagetora. The lingering traces of Bishamonten's divine power. Only someone who has clashed with you directly would carry such a thing, wouldn't they?"
Uesugi Kenshin set down the document. The distress in those eyes vanished. In its place surfaced an expression of vivid, radiant brightness. "Nakai Shinji," she spoke the name. "It was him."
Aya-Gozen watched the inexplicable expression bloom upon the girl's face and merely smiled softly. Kenshin was silent for a moment. "…He saved you, Sister. Does this mean I owe him yet another debt of gratitude?"
Aya-Gozen watched with a smile as a brightness she had never seen lit up her younger sister's eyes. She pressed her palms together gently. Kenshin said nothing more. She simply picked up the documents again and lowered her head.
But Aya-Gozen noticed, the speed at which she turned the pages was faster than before. As if she were gathering a breath of resolve. Wanting to go do something. So when she spoke of a debt of gratitude, what exactly did she mean by that? Aya-Gozen didn't understand. And Kenshin never explained.
....
Musashi Province. Kaede's Village. Dawn.
The final threads of the Earth Barrier's light withdrew from the land, like the ebbing tide, slowly retracting from the hundreds of kilometers across the three provinces. It converged at last directly beneath the torii gate of the shrine, at Kikyō's feet.
She knelt there. The posture of her pressed palms had been maintained for an entire night. Her white uwagi and crimson hakama were immaculate in the morning light. Her black hair cascaded down beside her. Her face was cold and clear, her eyes half-lidded.
The moment the barrier retracted, her body swayed faintly. Not solely from physical exhaustion, but also from emotion. An entire night. From the moment she had received that pillar of crimson signal light, she had remained here. Using herself as the nexus, driving the faith of two provinces to unfurl the Earth Barrier across hundreds of kilometers.
She had not known what was happening there. She had not known what he was facing. She only knew, he had sent the signal. And so she had acted. This trust required no reason. Required no recompense. But the taste of waiting… was not pleasant.
Momiji and Botan stood guard on either side of the torii gate. They, too, had not closed their eyes all night, their faces weary. Kaede was on the steps of the main hall. The little girl hugged her knees, her head nodding, so exhausted she could barely stay awake, yet stubbornly refusing to sleep.
Naoe Kanetsugu sat beside a pillar in the main hall. The morning light grew brighter and brighter. Kikyō rose to her feet. She turned and faced the direction of the village entrance.
That dirt path stretching up from the south was faintly visible in the morning mist. At its end, there was no one yet. But she knew. He would come from there. Amidst this, Kikyō's expression remained unchanged, still that cold, clear face that seemed almost devoid of human warmth. Outside of this, Momiji and Botan exchanged a glance and silently retreated to a farther position.
The morning mist gradually dispersed. And at the end of the road, a figure truly appeared. Gray robes. Flowing white hair. A bamboo hat hanging against his back. Onikiri at his left hip. Yomi-giri at his right.
His pace was not fast, yet it was as though the very ground shrank beneath his strides, each step covering several meters as if by flight. He walked casually. Carelessly. Like a wanderer who had journeyed for a full month and was, at last, nearing home.
A few early-rising villagers at the entrance saw him first. They froze. Then someone shouted, "The Demon God has returned!" Scattered voices of greeting rippled outward, but no one dared draw too close. Before, Shinji had been a yōkai. Now, he had become a god. Faith, at times, was established just that simply.
Shinji walked past the village entrance and came beneath the shadow of the shrine's torii gate. He lifted his head. And saw Kikyō standing there.
White uwagi. Crimson hakama. Black hair like a waterfall. The morning light fell upon her, tracing the slender yet vividly curved silhouette of her body with a rim of gold. Her sash was bound at the narrowest point of her waist.
The fabric at her chest was drawn faintly taut. The hem of her hakama fell to her ankles, revealing the calves wrapped in white tabi above her wooden sandals. Slender and elegant.
The line of her hips subtly flared. Her face was cold and clear. Her lips faintly colored. And her gaze, from the very moment it had landed, had been fixed upon him. It was so quiet that no one in the vicinity dared make a sound.
Shinji stopped three paces before her. "I'm ba—" He never finished.
Kikyō moved. She stepped forward and seized his wrist. The strength in her palm was far more forceful than usual. Then she turned. The motion was crisp. Her pace was swift. Momiji's mouth opened. Botan's eyes went wide. Kaede bounced up from the steps, rubbed her eyes, stared for a long while, understood nothing, and groggily sat back down.
Naoe Kanetsugu, leaning against her pillar, cracked one eye open, and closed it again. These past few days of endlessly processing documents had been utterly exhausting.
Shinji was dragged along for over a dozen steps. A look of surprise surfaced on his pale face. "Is this the part where you seize me in one grasp and refine me on the spot?"
Kikyō ignored him. She walked until they were beneath the Sacred Tree, that guardian tree which had grown for thousands of years, its branches and leaves spreading like a canopy, sieving the morning light into countless flecks of gold.
She stopped, turned around, rose onto the tips of her toes and kissed him. The moment her lips pressed against his, they carried the faint chill of an entire sleepless night, yet they burned with an impossible heat. It was not gentle. Because it was delivered with force.
As though biting. Venting her discontent. A month. He had been gone for a month. She had not asked a single word. She had given her full, unwavering support to everything Shinji had done. But that did not mean she wasn't angry. That did not mean she hadn't felt… longing. And yearning.
The back of Shinji's head knocked against the rough bark of the Sacred Tree. His crimson demon eyes stilled for a moment. Then he closed them. And surrendered. He even reached out on his own and gently clasped the small of her back.
His fingers were very cool. Kikyō's body stiffened for an instant. The red at the rims of her ears rapidly spread down to her neck. But she did not let go. The morning light filtered through the leaves of the Sacred Tree, shrouding both their figures in a tapestry of mottled light and shadow.
Not far away, Momiji and Botan had clamped their hands over each other's mouths. Their wide eyes stared and swiveled at one another. Kaede had, at last, fallen completely asleep. Naoe Kanetsugu leaned against her pillar, facing the opposite direction, pretending she saw nothing.
The System panel flickered in the corner of Shinji's vision.
[Shikon no Tama: Affection +2. Current Affection: 86.]
Because Kikyō's heart was at ease, so the Naohi within the Shikon no Tama was also at peace. All discontent. All unease. All of it had settled with his return. This was enough.