Having made his decision, Kōbe Hikaru already had, in his heart, a fairly clear idea of how to proceed next.
Either don't do it at all.
But if he was going to do it, then naturally he would do it better, more perfectly.
And his thoughts quickly took shape into a preliminary plan.
Several days passed in the blink of an eye.
Kikyō stood beneath the Shrine's veranda, that ancient longbow gripped in her hand.
Her white top was clean and plain, the collar neatly tied, the red hakama swaying gently in the wind.
Her jet-black hair was bound behind her head with a white ribbon, the ends spilling over her shoulders, a few loose strands hanging beside her ears, framing that delicate, lovely face.
She raised the bow, took aim, loosed—the arrow nailing itself precisely into a fallen leaf a hundred paces away.
Practicing an archery she had not used in many days.
Kōbe Hikaru sat off to one side, watching her practice, marveling at the terrifying skill of this girl's marksmanship—even without a shred of spiritual power, on this archery alone she could shine anywhere—while he spoke.
And amid all this, Kikyō once again heard out Kōbe Hikaru's plan.
The girl turned her eyes slightly.
"You're going to the Hōjō clan."
"Mm."
Kōbe Hikaru leaned back against the veranda pillar, gray-robed and ashen-haired, his crimson eyes on her.
"The news that ashigaru brought—Echigo invading from the south. The Hōjō don't know the specifics; this intelligence is useful to them."
"And at the same time—"
His gaze swept over the cluster of little yōkai huddled together in the corner of the yard.
"They can't stay here."
Kaede Village was a village of humans.
The villagers were grateful to Kōbe Hikaru, but that gratitude was premised on his being the demon-god who protected them, the guardian who fought shoulder to shoulder with the shrine maiden—not a neighbor who moved in on their doorstep with a pack of yōkai.
Besides, the workings of the barrier had their own rules.
This barrier was founded upon spiritual power, and naturally repelled yōkai.
Though Kōbe Hikaru himself was unrestricted thanks to Kikyō's acknowledgment, cramming twenty-odd little yōkai inside would multiply the burden on the barrier many times over.
"I need to find them a place."
Kōbe Hikaru said it plainly.
"Not too far from here, but not too close either—close enough that we can answer one another. And on that point, I think the Hōjō clan, who rule both Musashi and Sagami Provinces, should be able to help me."
These little yōkai, who needed to band together in numbers and who neither ate people nor drank blood, were unlike other demons: their early-stage transformation had been spent on developing intellect, so if they did not gather into a group, their capacity for survival was really quite ordinary.
Any random yōkai, any samurai, even a slightly bold farmer, could wipe them out.
So what Kōbe Hikaru needed was not a suitable stronghold out in the wild.
Quite the opposite.
He needed the power of 'humans.'
Rumor and gossip, the direction in which human hearts turned in dread.
That is—fear.
Yes.
Little yōkai they might be, but because they possessed the rare trait—rare among first- and second-transformation Corporeal Transformation yōkai—of being able to communicate with humans, Kōbe Hikaru felt that letting them acquire the 'fear' of humans, and grow stronger through it, might well be a good arrangement.
These yōkai had limited talent; on their own, they could hardly grow to any real degree.
Fear—this kind of 'external force' that could make them stronger in a short span of time, and would revert them to their original forms the moment it was lost—suited them better.
After all, they only had to keep from losing the fear.
And once they grew stronger.
They could become a further asset to him, rather than merely eyes and ears.
Kōbe Hikaru could even use them to collect 'fear'—even though he himself had no use for it, and had no need at all to rely on such external force to strengthen himself. In Kōbe Hikaru's view, true great yōkai ought all to look down on fear.
But though he had no use for it himself, he could perfectly well let the beings around him make use of it.
For instance, letting the Muramasa in his hand turn yōkai—become a Tsukumogami.
Letting those beings whose favourability was maxed out become yōkai through this.
Only these would become his true power base.
Of course, Kōbe Hikaru was only going to create the conditions that would let them settle within human dwellings; how far they could actually get would depend on themselves.
On this, Kikyō was very much in agreement.
"To the southeast of Kaede Village there's a stretch of rolling hills, sparsely inhabited, where the yōkai aura isn't thick either. The areas the Echigo army swept through before have, ironically, become empty ground."
"You can go through there. Along the way, you won't meet any obstruction."
Kōbe Hikaru was slightly taken aback.
"When did you survey the terrain over there?"
"In my spare time."
Kikyō's tone was very calm.
"The barrier's range of perception covers ten li in every direction. These past few days since I came out, I took the chance to feel out the surrounding land."
Kōbe Hikaru looked at her.
This girl—
"You really are something."
"Something what?"
"Something good."
Kikyō didn't respond.
But the tips of her ears flushed faintly, and her lips carried a curve she couldn't quite suppress—very slight, yet very real.
…
"I'll be back as soon as I can."
Kōbe Hikaru tucked the Muramasa at his waist, then checked once more the reverse scale, the Nekomata's claw, and that red comb tucked against his chest, sorting them by kind and stowing them properly on his person:
"The Hōjō main castle, Odawara, lies to the south. The distance is nothing much for you or me. I'll get them settled first, then make the trip to Odawara."
"That Echigo army won't let this rest."
Kikyō's voice came from behind him.
"I know."
Kōbe Hikaru glanced back at her.
"That's why I'm going to the Hōjō—not just to deliver news."
"It's to recruit people."
Kikyō nodded.
She understood his meaning.
This was indeed Kōbe Hikaru's true purpose in going.
The Echigo army marched south under the banner of Bishamonten to purge yōkai, and behind it stood Uesugi Kenshin, who called himself the incarnation of a deity. That kind of power was no ordinary human armament, but a being truly touched by 'godhood.'
With just the two of them, he and Kikyō could hold off yōkai, but it would be hard to withstand at the same time the pincer of a human army and a divine artifact.
Human affairs, sometimes, still had to be settled by humans.
The Hōjō clan were the nominal rulers of Musashi Province; they had soldiers, castles, resources.
And Kōbe Hikaru happened to hold, in his hands, a piece of intelligence the Hōjō clan urgently needed.
An equivalent exchange.
Kōbe Hikaru took one last look toward the Shrine.
Kikyō stood beneath the veranda, the longbow hanging at her side, her white top and red hakama distinct in the sunlight.
Her slender waist was bound by the hakama's sash, the hems fluttering in the wind, revealing a half-length of white cloth tabi, and above, the curve of her legs faintly discernible beneath the red fabric.
Her face was cool and aloof, yet it also held a softness only he could perceive.
"Go."
she said, like a wife seeing her husband off on a journey: "Go early, come back early."
Kōbe Hikaru nodded.
Then turned.
"Big brother!"
Kokaede poked her head out from behind the torii, her twin ponytails swishing back and forth.
"Are you leaving?"
"Going out to handle something. I'll be back soon."
"Then you have to bring back a present! You still haven't given me the candy you promised last time!"
The little girl was still hung up on it.
Kōbe Hikaru was silent for an instant: "…We'll see."
Kokaede seemed about to say something more, but a hand reached out from behind and pressed down on her head.
Kikyō said nothing, only pulled her little sister back behind her.
But her gaze followed, always, that gray figure receding into the distance.
Outside Kaede Village.
Twenty-three little yōkai had formed a crooked, straggling line.
At the very front was that boldest tanuki spirit, hoisting a tattered flag it had picked up from who knows where, painted with a crooked skull—said to be a war banner it had drawn itself, to proclaim its loyalty to Kōbe Hikaru.
The one-eyed little monk followed behind, holding up that ragged paper umbrella, the single eye painted on its surface rolling wildly left and right.
The fox-eared girl rode on the back of a broken-legged giant rat, her two furry ears standing up tall.
Behind them came two crows, three kappa, half a centipede, and several miscellaneous yōkai whose names couldn't even be spoken.
They marched in a single column, trailing behind Kōbe Hikaru.
The scene could be called spectacular.
Or it could be called—ridiculous.
"So this is your Night Parade of a Hundred Demons?"
Sakagami Ketsura's voice came from against his chest, laced with barely concealed disdain.
"First of all, it's daytime right now."
Without turning his head, Kōbe Hikaru said: "Second, it's not a Night Parade of a Hundred Demons."
"Then what is it?"
"It's the Day March of Twenty-Three Demons."
Kōbe Hikaru wore an amused expression, having just told a very lame joke.
Sakagami Ketsura fell silent for two seconds.
She'd been left cold.
But.
"They may only be a bunch of good-for-nothing riffraff, but marching a pack of yōkai down the main road in broad daylight—do you feel you're still not conspicuous enough?"
"What's there to fear."
Kōbe Hikaru's tone was casual: "The human army in this region was just driven off by me. No one will dare come make trouble for a while."
"And besides—others may not necessarily be able to see us."
He raised his hand.
[Blood Mutation] activated.
Red mist seeped out from beneath his skin, slowly spreading outward.
The mist wasn't thick, only a thin layer laid over the ground, like morning haze drifting out from among the mountains.
But under the cover of this mist, the little yōkai's forms grew blurred.
Seen from afar, there was only a single gray-robed, ashen-haired figure walking alone through the fog.
As for the crooked shadows behind him, refracted through the blood mist, only dim, hazy outlines remained.
Like—ghostly shadows.
Mist rising at high noon.
This is what is called:
extreme yang giving birth to yin.
The Day March of Twenty-Three Demons.
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