At the border where the three provinces of Musashi, Sagami, and Kai met within the Kantō region.
Upon a mountain path.
Dusk.
Tenseiga's blue-white barrier burst apart in midair, hurling Sesshōmaru out from the cleft of the underworld. There was no buffer. The silver-white figure crashed directly onto the hillside, skidding nearly ten paces before coming to a stop. A bloody furrow was carved behind him.
The short silver-white fur of his half-beast state rapidly receded and vanished, restoring his humanoid form. His white haori was torn to shreds. Only a single fragment of silver armor still clung to his left shoulder.
From his right shoulder to his waist stretched a massive wound, bone exposed, blood dyeing the withered grass beneath him. His right arm was still severed. The break at the shoulder was terrifyingly clean.
The edges of the wound had already begun to heal at the regeneration speed of a daiyōkai, but the rate was far slower than normal. And the regenerating flesh continued to wither and decay.
The pure-impure collision of Furukami had damaged his very Phenomenon. It had been "blocked." This wound, unlike simple physical destruction, would require a great deal of time to expel the obstruction force.
Tenseiga had fallen 90 cm to his side. The blue-white light of the blade had already dimmed. Having fulfilled its final mission of protection, it fell into slumber.
Sesshōmaru lay on his back. His golden slit-pupils gazed at the darkening sky, his pupils unfocused.
He tried to move his remaining left hand. The fingers could bend. But every inch from fingertip to shoulder screamed with agony.
He tried to sit up. The wound in his abdomen tore open another fraction. More blood poured out.
He gave up.
Sesshōmaru simply lay there upon the hillside, his silver-white hair scattered amidst the blood and withered grass, the crescent moon of deep purple upon his brow flickering in the dim light.
He had never been this bedraggled.
Never once.
But more than the wounds, what overwhelmed him was the unwillingness.
The unwillingness of his own defeat.
The unwillingness of his father's choice.
The unwillingness of everything…
It was at that moment, footsteps came from the lower part of the mountain path.
Very light.
And very irregular in rhythm.
Chaotic.
Sesshōmaru's slit-pupils shifted.
In the next instant, a boy emerged from the bend of the mountain path.
Sixteen or seventeen years old. Black hair bound behind his head. Wearing coarse cloth garments. A whetstone-polished hatchet hung at his waist. A bundle of firewood was slung over his shoulder.
His features were pleasant. His facial contours were deep and well-defined.
But the color of his eyes made Sesshōmaru pause for a single instant.
Then he understood.
This one was no longer a demon.
He was human.
Amber-colored eyes of a human. No demonic gold. No razor sharpness of slit-pupils.
That was Inuyasha.
Inuyasha, resurrected as a pure human.
Sesshōmaru swept his gaze over him, then closed his eyes once more.
Still indifferent.
But the boy saw him.
He stopped.
Then.... Inuyasha laughed.
"HAHAHAHAHAHA!"
He laughed so hard he doubled over, squatting down, his entire body shaking, tears streaming from his eyes.
"You—you—YOU! Of all people! Sesshōmaru! HAHAHAHA! Who the hell did this to you?! Which hero did this?! I HAVE to buy him a drink! Three days and three nights of drinking!"
He recognized his half-brother.
Even though the other was covered in blood, missing an arm, more bedraggled than a stray dog by the roadside, he could never mistake the crescent moon of deep purple upon that face, nor the silver-white hair.
And he truly wanted to laugh.
A great, roaring, Inuyasha-style laugh!
Sesshōmaru opened his eyes once more. His golden slit-pupils stared coldly at him.
That gaze would have once made Inuyasha's fur bristle.
But now, Inuyasha simply wiped the tears from his eyes, stood up, put his hands on his hips, and looked down at him from above.
"What are you looking at? Think you can beat me right now?"
Sesshōmaru said nothing.
Not because he didn't want to, but because he truly had no strength to speak.
The organs in his chest had not yet finished regenerating. Every breath carried a tearing pain.
Inuyasha laughed enough. He crouched down, set aside that insufferable expression, and seriously examined Sesshōmaru's wounds.
"This injury… who did this to you?"
Sesshōmaru did not answer.
Inuyasha clicked his tongue in wonder… and looked around.
The forest was still, only the sound of the wind.
"Hey, can you still walk?" he suddenly asked again.
Sesshōmaru did not answer.
Inuyasha sighed.
He picked up the firewood and the wild rabbit, tied them together with rope, and slung them over his shoulder. Then he bent down, passed one arm beneath Sesshōmaru's armpit, and hauled him up from the ground.
Sesshōmaru's body stiffened for an instant.
"Don't move." Inuyasha said, his tone uncharacteristically serious. "In your current state, if you struggle, the wound will definitely tear open. Even if you're some so-called daiyōkai, it'll still hurt like hell. Don't blame me later."
Sesshōmaru did not struggle.
Not because he didn't want to, but because he truly had no strength.
He leaned against Inuyasha's shoulder, dragged forward by the one he had despised for over a hundred years, that half-demon, now a human.
His silver-white hair hung down, nearly merging with Inuyasha's now pitch-black hair.
The forest path wound downward, toward the cooking smoke of Kaede's Village.
"…Why are you saving me?"
Sesshōmaru's voice was very low, as though squeezed from the depths of his throat.
Inuyasha did not look at him.
"Because you're Sesshōmaru."
"Just that?"
"Because… though I really hate to admit it, you and I still share the same blood." Inuyasha said it very lightly.
It was also the truth.
Though his demonic power was gone, Inuyasha was still Inuyasha. Tōga's blood still flowed within his body. He had merely lost his demon soul and become ordinary. Lost his demonic power.
But he was still the son of Tōga.
That was undeniable.
And there was no need to deny it.
Sesshōmaru fell silent.
In over a hundred years, he had never heard Inuyasha say such a thing.
That half-demon had always looked at him as though looking at an enemy, mouth full of insults, never once adding a single honorific. No matter how strong he was, no matter how resplendent, Inuyasha always wore the expression of one who refused to submit.
And now.... he admitted it.
At his most bedraggled moment.
"Shouldn't you hate me?"
"I do." Inuyasha's voice was utterly candid. "You always looked down on me. Looked down on my mother. I remember all of it."
"Then why save me?"
"Why are you talking so damn much, you bastard?! I already told you the reason. I'm not saying it twice."
Inuyasha clicked his tongue, seeming somewhat impatient.
The forest wind swept past, stirring the rustle of fallen leaves.
After a moment, Inuyasha continued.
"In these three months since becoming human, I've lost my demonic power. I'm just an ordinary person now. But I've traveled to quite a few places. Several cities."
His voice was as calm as it had never been.
"At first, I wasn't used to it. No demonic aura. No strength. It felt like I couldn't do anything.
"But gradually, I got used to it. Kids would run over to play with me. Old women would give me an extra bowl of soup. The people I traveled with even called me 'Leader.'"
"And what of it?"
"Nothing."
Inuyasha tilted his head and glanced at him.
"I just suddenly realized, you can survive without power. People talking to you isn't because they're afraid of you. People not talking to you isn't because you're not good enough.
"And…"
He paused.
"The things I used to hate… maybe they weren't so important after all.
"Oh, right. Besides Inuyasha, I have another name now. They helped me pick it. 'Inu Nobushige.' Sounds pretty cool, right?!"
Sesshōmaru's golden slit-pupils looked at him.
This one had changed.
Three months ago, he had still been that hot-headed brat who exploded at the slightest provocation. Even his way of speaking was different now.
"So what are you trying to say?"
"What I'm trying to say is—"
Inuyasha stopped walking and looked at him.
"I can't forget what you did to me before. But no matter how insufferable you are, no matter how much of a bastard, whether you look down on me or not, you and I share the same blood.
"Humans always say, people of the same blood are the most reliable companions in this world.
"I don't think you're reliable in the slightest. But I'll still save you."
He averted his gaze and kept walking.
"And in your current state, I can't just leave you in the forest to feed the animals, can I? Though you're basically a wild animal yourself."
Sesshōmaru said nothing more.
He leaned against Inuyasha's shoulder, watching the outline of the village draw nearer at the end of the forest path.
Smoke curled from chimneys.
The sounds of chickens and dogs drifted through the air.
That human village, which he had never once deigned to look at, seemed, at this moment, somewhat glaring.
Not because of disgust.
But because it was too bright.
Inuyasha. This one… seems to have truly changed? Because of humans? Because humans... were not as frail, as ignorant, as he had thought? So the weak… were not necessarily… worthless after all?
Meanwhile, within the cleft of the underworld, within the tomb of Tōga.
Tōga's remnant soul moved.
Silver-white light-dust condensed between his illusory palms, forming an equally semi-transparent tachi. It was a projection of a weapon, briefly forged by using the remnant soul as a medium, absorbing the surrounding residual demonic energy of his own body.
Though it was only a projection, the master of the projection was Tōga.
The battle experience, swordsmanship instincts, and understanding of power that the Inu no Taishō had accumulated throughout his life, all of it was poured into this single illusory blade.
"Come, boy."
Tōga's molten-gold eyes, in that instant, shed every trace of carelessness.
What replaced it was a focus of such extreme, crushing intensity that it bordered on oppression.
"Let me see where your limits lie."
The moment those words fell, he vanished.
The remnant soul moved without sound, without air current, without even a fluctuation of demonic energy.
As one already dead, he did not exist within the physical laws of this space.
Thus, he was faster than any living daiyōkai.
A strengthened version of Kidōmaru.
Shinji's Keen-Eye Transformation, stacked with Celestial-Eye Piercing, spun to its absolute limit in that instant.
The perception of the three-eyed peacock blanketed the entire abdominal cavity.
And then, he saw Tōga's trajectory.
Vanishing from directly ahead.
Reappearing 80cm to the right rear.
The illusory tachi slashed horizontally.
The gray-violet demonic energy wrapped around the blade's edge, though it was merely the meager power a remnant soul could command, was condensed to the absolute extreme.
There was no extraneous diffusion.
Every wisp of demonic energy was compressed within the cutting edge itself.
This level of control over power made Shinji understand the gap between them the instant he moved to block.
As expected of a top-tier daiyōkai who had comprehended 'Will'.
Onikiri rose to meet it.
Blade clashed against a projection of demonic energy.
The physical edge bit into the illusory blade, it should have passed straight through, yet it was blocked by the instantaneous thickness produced by the rotation of demonic energy.
Using the minimum amount of force, at the single most critical point, to achieve the maximum effect.
This was the skill forged through centuries of conquest.
And then, Tōga's second strike had already arrived.
The illusory tachi split into three shadows, cutting in simultaneously from high, middle, and low.
It was not a cloning technique, the remnant soul's body existed in three positions at once for a single instant.
Because the dead were not bound by the physical constraints of space.
Therefore, he was fast.
Fast to the extreme.
Nearly the equivalent of three blades striking simultaneously.
Shinji's Māra transformation stacked with the Shura Form unfurled before this strike.
Though he did not fully manifest the 60 meters height, merely constructing the frame close to his body, it granted him four arms encircling, four arms moving as one.
The upper-left arm, empty, caught the high strike with Vajra Indestructible.
The upper-right arm met the middle strike with Onikiri.
The lower-left arm anchored the low strike with Banryū's Immovable Earth.
The lower-right arm swept horizontally with Yomi-giri's Metal-element killing aura.
Under the lock-on of the Soul-Chasing BowArm Transformation, striking second yet arriving first, four defensive lines were raised simultaneously within half a breath.
All three shadow strikes were blocked.
But the tremor transmitted through his body told him, though the remnant soul's strength was meager, the density of "Will" contained within it far surpassed any existence he had ever faced.
Including humans.
Including Tsugikuni Yoriichi!
As a demon, in pure, human Will, Tōga had actually exceeded those human pinnacles!
His remnant soul coalesced from the three shadows and drifted 15 meters before the Shura Form's face.
"Not bad. Your frame is sturdy enough!"
He commented.
The illusory tachi spun half a turn in his hand, now in a reverse grip.
"But you have too many artifacts."
Shinji's crimson demon eyes narrowed faintly.
"Four arms. Three blades. Five elemental attributes cycling in rotation. In a fight, you're like a… how shall I put it… like a human fortress?
"You can block anything. You can counterattack anything.
"But have you ever considered…"
"What if a blade were to appear.... directly inside you?!"
Tōga's remnant soul vanished once more.
This time, he appeared directly above the crown of the Shura Form.
The illusory tachi slashed vertically downward.
One slash.
Only one slash.
But the trajectory of this strike, Shinji saw it with utter clarity through the Celestial Eye, passed precisely through the gaps between his four arms.
No—wait.
Not passing through.
It had appeared directly within those gaps.
And then, it had pried open a seam that should never have existed!
Tōga's blade "slashed" its way inside.
The illusory edge was less than 15 cm from the core of the Shura Form's chest, where Shinji's true body resided.
However, though his four arms were caught out of position, Shinji still had one more "artifact."
The equivalent of an arm!
Tessaiga moved.
That demon blade, only recently acquired, drew itself from its sheath once more.
Golden light erupted from the blade, wrapping around Shinji's Shura Form.
The Shura Form gained a fifth force.
And then, his Shura Form, moving as his will commanded, truly extended a fifth arm.
A fifth projection of bone and thunder.
Tessaiga's golden light condensed into a thin layer of armor, covering that new arm.
Fused with the gray-violet demonic energy Tessaiga had absorbed, it blocked Tōga's downward slash from the side.
It held.
But the instant of contact, a bizarre force was transmitted.
Tessaiga was absorbing.
It was absorbing the demonic energy attached to Tōga's illusory tachi.
To be precise, it was absorbing the "Will" that Tōga had poured into his blade.
The System panel flickered.
[Tessaiga: Affection 1 → 3. It expresses that its internal structure is reconfiguring. This sensation is quite pleasant. It likes it very much.]
Reconfiguring.
Tessaiga was undergoing transformation mid-battle.
Shinji could feel it.
The sensation of the hilt in his palm had changed. The texture of the downy white fibers had shifted from soft to coarse, as though the dog fur was being replaced by something harder.
Bone.
His bone.
The patterns of the Shura Form's white bone were spreading along his arm toward Tessaiga's hilt, like roots sinking into soil.
Tessaiga was adapting to its new master.
Through battle.
Through collision.
Through absorbing the lingering will of its former master, then overwriting it with the power of the new one.
This blade was completing its metamorphosis, from the fang of Tōga, into the blade of Shinji.
Shinji understood in an instant.
This was the true purpose of Tōga's challenge.
It was not to teach him a lesson.
It was not to test his strength.
It was for Tessaiga.
In order to let Tessaiga undergo one complete collision between its old and new wielders.
To thoroughly digest the lingering will of its former master.
To stamp the mark of the new one.
Forging the blade.
Without fire.
Without hammer.
Through battle.
In the original story, Inuyasha had also done this.
Though that had been near the middle of the plot, after Tessaiga had been shattered, when Tōtōsai had reforged it using Inuyasha's own fang.
But now, Shinji had just obtained Tessaiga, and the process had already begun.
With Tōga's help.
Directly!
"You intended this from the very start?"
Shinji spoke.
Tōga's remnant soul drifted back two paces. His illusory tachi was drawn to his side. His molten-gold eyes curved faintly.
"Figured it out, did you?"
Shinji replied, "Every one of your strikes just happened to force Tessaiga to come out and block. Far too deliberate."
"Tch. Young people with sharp observation skills, it's not always a virtue."
Tōga scratched the back of his head, though his hand passed straight through his own hair, scratching nothing at all.
"I originally planned to keep up the act a bit longer. But since this blade has already acknowledged your protective will, it was always going to become your blade eventually.
"So I might as well give it a push myself.
"However, now that you've seen through it, don't hold back.
"From here on, fight seriously."
"Pour everything you have into Tessaiga. Let it remember your scent. Your power. Your Truth.
"Fight until it completely forgets me.
"Until it only acknowledges you.
"Until it truly becomes your blade!"
His tone remained carefree.
But the earnestness within his molten-gold eyes was deeper than at any moment before.
It was as though he was entrusting something.
Shinji said no more.
The Shura Form retracted that extra arm, maintaining four arms, yet the hand that had been empty now raised a demon blade.
Onikiri.
Yomi-giri.
Banryū.
Tessaiga.
Four blades, encircling like a windmill.
The golden fang-blade, against the skeletal backdrop of the Shura Form, radiated a warm light utterly distinct from the white bone.
Upon its cutting edge, the gray-violet traces of the old master and Shinji's own dark crimson blood-fire were slowly fusing.
Old and new, in transition.
"Come."
Shinji spoke a single word.
The Shura Form stepped forward.
The abdominal cavity trembled once more.
Four arms struck out simultaneously, four blades sweeping toward Tōga's remnant soul.
Fire.
Earth.
Metal.
And the power of the beast.
Four forces intertwined into a wall of blade-light, crushing toward the illusory tachi.
Tōga's remnant soul rose to meet it.
One blade against four.
No retreat.
With every collision, Tessaiga's cutting edge devoured another layer of the old master's demonic energy.
Even the very material of the blade was being replaced by Shinji's own.
With every block, Shinji's demonic power sank deeper into the blade's interior.
The numbers on the System panel continued to tick upward.
[Tessaiga: Affection 3 → 5 → 8—]
The battle continued.
The blade, was undergoing metamorphosis.