Odawara Castle.
The strongest fortress in Kantō.
Having come here once more, Kōbe Hikaru stood on a hill outside the castle, gazing at the familiar fortress before him. Around him, a thin blood mist spread out, veiling both his own form and that of the twenty-three little yōkai behind him.
In the distance, the great castle—nestled against the mountains and facing the sea—looked especially silent under the afternoon sun.
Stone ramparts stacked in tiers, arrow towers densely arrayed, the gates shut tight.
Unlike the last time he had come to slay Gakimaru—the banners atop the walls had changed.
No longer just the Hōjō clan's triple-scale crest; now there were war banners signaling preparation for battle.
Something was off.
Kōbe Hikaru frowned.
Although the gates were closed and the residents all seemed to be home rather than out, the sense of human presence within the city was not thick.
Blood mist seeped out from beneath his skin, creeping down the slope toward the castle, spreading in a thin layer, almost invisible.
Once again, blood became his eyes.
His field of vision slowly unfolded within Kōbe Hikaru's perception, and the situation inside the city gradually grew clear.
The garrison was small.
Far fewer than the last time he had come.
Though this time the townsfolk went about their lives as usual, the samurai on the streets were noticeably fewer, and the stables were more than half empty of warhorses.
"The main force has been redeployed."
Kōbe Hikaru made this judgment—it was the only judgment he could make.
After all, he could only see, not hear.
Still, Kōbe Hikaru had no intention of revealing himself.
There was no need.
Unlike his direct contact with the Imagawa clan, his last visit here had been only within a dream, without directly exposing his whereabouts—dreams were hazy things, and unless most people were struck again by a deep-seated stimulus of the same scene, they could hardly recall them clearly.
So neither the Hōjō clan nor the people of this city knew who he was. For a yōkai wearing a crimson oni mask to suddenly appear would only stir up needless commotion.
This time, he had not come alone.
The oni warrior in the crimson oni mask turned to look at the group of little yōkai huddled in the blood mist behind him.
"Spread out."
His voice came from beneath the oni mask. "Go into the city and listen to what the Hōjō clan's people are saying."
The tanuki spirit was startled. "M-my lord, we're going into the city?"
"You can't enter the city looking like that."
Kōbe Hikaru's tone was flat. "Transform."
"Transform?"
"Aren't you a tanuki?"
An awkward expression came over the tanuki spirit's face.
It was indeed a tanuki spirit, and what tanuki spirits excelled at most was the Transformation.
But the problem was—it was only at the level of one-and-a-half transformations.
One transformation went toward developing intelligence, and the remaining half-transformation was the actual Transformation.
Because of this, the human form it took was fixed—there would be an extra tuft of fur on its nose, its tail couldn't be hidden, and it couldn't hold the shape for long.
"My lord, my Transformation can only last half an hour..."
"That's enough."
Kōbe Hikaru drew from his robes a thread congealed from blood mist and wound it around the tanuki spirit's wrist.
"This blood thread will help conceal the abnormal parts of you to a degree, but once inside the city, don't go near mages or the Shrine. Find teahouses and taverns, and listen to what people say."
He then looked toward the one-eyed little monk and the fox-eared girl.
"The same goes for you—those who can transform, transform; those who can't, hide up on the rooftops."
"Remember—only listen. Don't speak, don't touch, and above all, no stealing."
"In half an hour, rendezvous at the pine grove south of the city."
The little yōkai looked at one another.
Then they scattered off.
Pinching its nose, the tanuki spirit went poof and turned into a short, plump middle-aged merchant, its tail barely stuffed into a trouser leg, and it waddled crookedly toward the city gate.
The one-eyed little monk propped his tattered paper umbrella over his head, shrinking his whole body inside it, leaving only two straw-sandaled feet showing, and shuffled along, blending into a band of farmers carrying loads on their shoulder poles.
The fox-eared girl plucked flowers from around her and wove them into a garland, covering up her fox ears.
She was actually a half-yōkai, a very weak half-yōkai—which was why she had a human form. Though she had no other tricks, at least she looked human.
The rest, who truly had no ability to transform—a broken-legged giant rat, a half-a-body centipede, a two-headed crow, and the like—climbed to the treetops and roof ridges outside the city and pricked up their ears.
Kōbe Hikaru leaned against an old pine on the hill and closed his eyes.
The blood mist was his eyes.
And these twenty-three little yōkai became his ears.
Soon, a yōkai reported in.
"The lord of this castle has led troops to the front lines..."
"...The Imagawa side has attacked again."
"Word is, this time it's not to seize territory."
"...Imagawa Yoshimoto has come in person... they say she's looking for someone..."
"...Some Demon God? Never heard of it..."
"...Something like, uh, ...be Hikaru?"
This last yōkai hadn't remembered Kōbe Hikaru's full name, and Kōbe Hikaru's eyes happened to open just then.
Imagawa Yoshimoto.
Raising an army in person.
Not to attack cities or seize land.
But to—find him?
"Interesting."
He rose to his feet. The images brought by the blood mist and the information carried by the little yōkai converged.
More fragments pieced together into a clear picture of the situation.
Three days ago, the Imagawa clan had suddenly mustered over two thousand troops once more, setting out from Suruga and pushing east into the Hōjō clan's sphere of influence.
But this army did not besiege cities, did not plunder, and did not even cross the two clans' traditional border line.
They merely arrayed themselves on the plains at the border and displayed their banners.
Then—they sent an envoy to Odawara Castle.
The townsfolk retold the envoy's exact words in all sorts of versions, but the core meaning was singular:
"Hand over the 'Demon God Hikaru.'"
Naturally, Hōjō Ujiyasu refused.
Not because she cared about Kōbe Hikaru—she didn't even know what the name meant.
But because—by what right?
Imagawa Yoshimoto had come onto her turf, ordering her about, demanding she hand over something she had never even seen?
This was a provocation.
Absolutely a provocation.
So Hōjō Ujiyasu assembled her troops, took personal command, and went to the border to face off.
The Lion of Sagami never struck first, but neither would she tolerate anyone flaunting their might at her doorstep.
Just as the last time the Imagawa clan had come charging in aggressively, the Hōjō clan had resolutely counterattacked.
The last war had ended inexplicably.
But that didn't mean she was afraid.
For now, the two armies stood opposed at the boundary between Suruga and Musashi—
No battle had yet begun.
But the atmosphere was already at swords' points.
Meanwhile.
West of Mount Hakone at the border of the two domains lay Yadaihara.
It was a wide-open plain, flanked by low hills to the north and south, with vast stretches of dry fields and grassland in between.
The Hōjō clan's army was stationed on the hills to the north, about fifteen hundred strong.
The Imagawa clan's army occupied the south, its banners stretching in an unbroken line, about two thousand strong.
The two armies stood three li apart, the plain between them empty of all but the autumn wind sweeping over the withered yellow grass.
Within the northern camp.
Hōjō Ujiyasu stood atop the raised platform of her headquarters, a light suit of armor over her deep-purple kimono, her jet-black hair stirring faintly in the wind.
Her exquisite face bore no particular expression, but the corners of her mouth turned slightly downward, full of gloom and displeasure.
Beside her stood several elderly retainers, their faces likewise grave.
"Report—the Imagawa side has sent an envoy again, the same demand as before: that we hand over the 'Demon God Hikaru.'"
The messenger knelt below the platform.
Hōjō Ujiyasu gazed at the Imagawa banner fluttering to the south, her tone cold:
"Demon God Hikaru, Demon God Hikaru—what on earth is that?"
"This is the fifth time. What madness has taken hold of Imagawa Yoshimoto?"
An older retainer beside her said in a low voice, "My lord, I've looked into it. The name 'Kōbe Hikaru' has become quite famous over in Suruga lately. It's said to be the name of a yōkai."
"A yōkai?"
"Yes. It's said that a little over half a month ago, the main castle of Suruga was attacked by a Thunder Beast, and it was this yōkai who slew the Thunder Beast. Imagawa Yoshimoto even built a Shrine within the castle to venerate it, calling it the Thunder-Slaying Demon God."
Hōjō Ujiyasu's brow knit together.
She recalled something.
A little over half a month ago, all of Odawara Castle had fallen into a nightmare.
That nightmare.
That burning castle.
That—
The figure with red eyes and white hair that had appeared in her dream.
"...It was him?"
she murmured.
That yōkai from her dream? That being who had called down lightning to burn away the scale-powder and slay the moth yōkai?
She had always thought it was only a dream.
Or rather, she had been unwilling to admit that it was real.
Because if it were real—it would mean that she, Hōjō Ujiyasu, owed a yōkai a debt of gratitude.
And what she hated most was owing anyone a favor.
But now, it seemed, this was not something she could simply deny away.
"My lord?"
The retainer watched her shifting expression with some concern.
"It's nothing."
Hōjō Ujiyasu pulled her thoughts back, her gaze returning to the south. "Whatever this Demon God Hikaru is, he isn't here with me. If Imagawa Yoshimoto wants him, let her go find him herself."
"Coming onto my turf to make a racket—"
Her tone went cold. "Does she take the Hōjō clan for an easy mark?"
Within the southern camp.
Imagawa Yoshimoto's headquarters was utterly unlike the Hōjō side's.
There was no grim martial atmosphere; it looked instead like an outing.
A sunshade cloth had been raised before the great tent, and beneath it stood a low table set with exquisite tea ware and sweets.
Imagawa Yoshimoto herself sat within the tent, her jūnihitoe kimono layered fold upon fold, opulent to the point of excess.
Her deep-brown hair spilled like a waterfall over the brocade cushion behind her, a golden butterfly ornament pinned in it, glittering in the sunlight.
Her delicate, charming face wore a leisurely air, as if she were admiring flowers rather than waging war.
She lifted her tea bowl and took a small sip.
"The Hōjō side has refused again."
The attendant beside her reported on her knees.
"Only to be expected."
Imagawa Yoshimoto set down her tea bowl and parted her red lips, the very picture of ease:
"That Hōjō Ujiyasu—she may hate taking risks, but she hates being told what to do even more. The more I demand, the less she'll give."
"But—"
The corner of her mouth curled up into a smile that could only be called sly.
"It doesn't matter."
"My aim was never the Hōjō."
"It's only that that person—the Demon God, Kōbe Hikaru—last appeared in Suruga, and immediately afterward went to the Hōjō clan's Odawara Castle. And then, I hear, in a single night he slew the demons of all four directions."
Imagawa Yoshimoto spoke as if telling an amusing story.
All of this she had heard from wandering merchants who passed through the Imagawa clan's territory; theirs was the best-informed news of all:
"He operates within Musashi Province."
"And Musashi Province is the Hōjō clan's turf."
"So the place he's most likely to appear—is right here."
She picked up a sweet studded with chestnuts and took a bite. "I need only make a big enough commotion."
"And in all likelihood, I can draw his attention."
A light glinted in Imagawa Yoshimoto's eyes.
Not the fervor of war.
Only the anticipation of a hunter waiting for its prey to walk into the trap.
Except what she meant to hunt was not Kōbe Hikaru's life, but his person—well, his yōkai self, rather.
It was the future of her Imagawa clan.
"Oh Demon God, dear Demon God—"
she murmured to herself, biting into the sweet.
"Come quickly now."
"I've come all this way just to receive you."
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