Chapter 57: A Demon in the Moonlight
The rear mountain of the Demon Slayer Village was home to a wide, open clearing, a space that had served as a training ground for generations of their warriors.
Tonight, the moonlight was like water, spilling across the clearing and bathing it in a silvery glow. Tsubaki sat cross-legged upon a large, smooth bluestone. Faint, white patterns of a spiritual barrier shimmered in the air around her, and three paper shikigami stood motionless, forming a silent, triangular guard.
Her eyes were closed, her posture one of deep meditation.
Yet, at this moment, when her mind should have been a placid lake, the thoughts of the dark priestess—a woman whose fame rivaled Kikyo's in the outside world—were a chaotic storm. For three days and nights, she had been trapped in a cycle of reminiscence and resentment.
She thought of her past.
And then, unbidden, she thought of her childhood.
"Tsubaki, I've heard that the miko from the countryside, Kikyo, is making astonishing progress in her cultivation."
Even now, her master's voice echoed in her memory, as clear as the day it was spoken. She could still picture his face—the monk who guarded the Tahoto, a pagoda deeply connected to the Shikon Jewel. He was a Great Master, recognized even by the Onmyoryo in Kyoto.
But for all his prestige, the old man's heart had never truly belonged to Tsubaki, his own disciple. Instead, it was fixated on that other girl, a chance encounter on a dusty road, a miko they had met only once.
"Both of you began your training at seven. By ten, Kikyo was already performing exorcisms on her own. And you?" his voice would chide. "Still practicing basic barrier techniques."
The look of deep regret on the old man's face—the regret of not being able to claim Kikyo as his own student—was seared into Tsubaki's memory, a brand she could never erase.
At the time, Tsubaki had been defiant.
On what grounds? On what basis was that woman, hailed as a prodigy since she was a child, better than her in every conceivable way? Tsubaki was a genius, too. She worked tirelessly. She practiced until the moon hung high in the sky, her fingertips rubbed raw and blistered, her spiritual power drained to the point of collapse. She never, ever gave up.
But in her master's eyes, there was only ever one name.
Kikyo.
Kikyo.
Kikyo.
"If you could only reach half of Kikyo's level, I would be satisfied."
Her master's final words before his death were a thorn lodged deep in Tsubaki's heart, still festering to this day.
She had once believed their paths would never truly cross. Kikyo was just a country priestess, after all, while Tsubaki's own background was far more distinguished.
Until she was fourteen.
By a stroke of fate, she found herself on the border of Musashi Province, facing a horde of demons besieging a village. She was powerful, but she was alone, and the fight was proving difficult.
Then, a figure in white robes and red hakama appeared, her younger sister trailing behind her.
Kikyo.
They fought side by side. For the first time, Tsubaki witnessed Kikyo's strength with her own eyes.
One arrow.
It took only a single arrow.
The swarm of demons that Tsubaki had strained every ounce of her power just to hold back was incinerated, reduced to ash by a single, purifying shot. Not even a trace remained.
In that blinding flash of sacred light, Tsubaki finally understood.
Her master hadn't been wrong. Perhaps she truly couldn't compare to Kikyo.
But—
She refused to accept it.
They were both priestesses, both geniuses. Why was Kikyo allowed to stand at the very pinnacle while she was forced to gaze up from below?
From that day forward, Tsubaki roamed the world, cultivating her power and slaying demons to accumulate experience. She had to become stronger. She had to surpass Kikyo. She had to prove her master wrong.
She was not inferior.
...
Tsubaki's eyes snapped open. The moonlight was still bright, the air crisp and clear. The three shikigami remained at their posts. But her heart was no longer peaceful—or rather, it had never been.
"Shikon Jewel..." she murmured into the night.
She had learned of the sacred treasure from her master long ago—an artifact that could amplify any power to unimaginable heights, an object that could stir the greed of every demon in the world. She had even seen it before.
The year she was fifteen, when she and Kikyo had defended that village, the old headman of the Demon Slayer Village—now dead at the hands of demons—had been present. They all knew one another. At the time, the old headman had lamented that he was growing old and needed to find the next guardian for the Shikon Jewel.
Tsubaki had considered herself the natural choice. The Tahoto she hailed from was already closely tied to the jewel's history. Even after Kikyo's brilliant display, she still believed herself the rightful successor.
And now...
That Shikon Jewel had fallen into Kikyo's hands.
That old man had actually given the jewel to Kikyo instead of her. Her, Tsubaki, who had traveled the world for years, slaying countless demons and spreading her fame far and wide.
And Kikyo? She spent most of her time guarding a single, small village, a home she rarely left.
In the end, the one who received the Shikon Jewel was not her.
The old defiance surged, hotter and more bitter than ever before. In truth, Tsubaki didn't care who held the jewel. She was simply consumed by the indignation of being deemed inferior to Kikyo once again.
"Tomorrow's ritual duel..." A cold, thin smile curled Tsubaki's lips. "I will show everyone who the truly strongest miko is."
She rose from the stone, preparing to return to her quarters and rest.
The next second, however, she froze.
A thick scent had reached her nose. The coppery tang of blood. It was heavy. And it was very, very close.
Tsubaki's expression hardened. She snapped her head around, her gaze piercing the darkness beyond her barrier.
Something was approaching.
"Shikigami," she commanded, her voice a low growl.
The three paper figures swiveled in unison, spiritual power flaring around them as they entered a combat stance. The faint patterns of the barrier brightened, coalescing into a semi-transparent, shimmering screen. Tsubaki clutched the talismans in her hand, her knuckles white. She was a miko; though she knew some martial arts, she was no warrior and was not built for close-quarters combat. But her barriers and shikigami were more than enough to handle most demonic threats.
At least, that's what she had always believed.
A heartbeat later, the belief shattered.
Screeech!
The barrier was torn apart as if it were made of rice paper.
Before Tsubaki could even register the violation, a shadowy figure blurred through the breach. The three shikigami, poised for battle, were shredded into confetti without having a chance to react.
"What—!" Tsubaki's pupils contracted into pinpricks.
Her barrier could repel most youkai, imbued with a potent, targeted energy for exorcism. Each of her shikigami possessed physical strength rivaling that of a common demon.
But this shadowy figure had needed only one strike.
One strike.
"Hehehe..." An eerie, scraping laugh echoed from the darkness.
A figure stepped out of the shadows and into the moonlight. It was humanoid, but it was not human. Its skin was the color of bleached parchment, its eye sockets sunken and hollow. Within them, pupils glowed a malevolent crimson. Its mouth was a grotesque slash that stretched from ear to ear, revealing two rows of needle-sharp fangs.
The creature radiated no Yao Qi. It had no ghostly aura. There was only the thick, nauseating stench of blood and an overwhelming killing intent—pure, unadulterated, and utterly devoid of reason.
"A woman... and a miko?" the thing rasped, its voice a guttural scrape from the depths of its throat. "Your blood... smells... delicious..."
Tsubaki took a stumbling step back. Her hands were trembling, not from fear, but from a primal, instinctual revulsion. Her spiritual senses, honed over a lifetime, were screaming at her. This thing before her was dangerous.
Extremely dangerous.
"What are you!" she shouted, simultaneously flinging a talisman from her hand.
The paper charm burst into flames mid-air, transforming into a bolt of white light that shot straight for the monster's face. It was her most powerful offensive spell, capable of obliterating a minor youkai in a single blow.
But the monster simply raised a hand and swatted it away.
The sacred light dispersed into nothing, as easily as swatting a fly.
"So weak..." The monster's laughter grew higher, more piercing. "But it's fine... a weak woman's... blood is still sweet..."
It lunged.
Its speed was blinding. Tsubaki willed her body to move, to dodge, but she was frozen stiff. The sheer weight of its killing intent pressed down on her, crushing the air from her lungs.
'It's over,' the thought flashed through her mind, cold and final.
And then—
BOOM!
A column of brilliant white light descended from the heavens, brighter than the moon itself. It was a Sacred Arrow.
The holy light slammed into the monster's chest, tearing its entire upper body apart in a shower of gore. Flesh and blood splattered across the clearing, drenching Tsubaki. She paid it no mind, her gaze fixed, staring blankly into the distance.
Her eyes traced the arrow's path back across the rear mountain, down to the Demon Slayer Village below. There, atop a tall watchtower, bathed in the same moonlight, stood a figure in white robes and red hakama.
A longbow was held steady in her hand, her black hair flowing in the night breeze.
It was Kikyo.
And just as Tsubaki registered her rival's presence, another figure beside Kikyo blurred into motion, rocketing toward the mountain at a startling speed. Gray robes fluttered around a silhouette of pale, long hair.
And on his face—a crimson demon mask.
A sword light, like a captured rainbow, erupted from the ground, carrying with it an overwhelming, righteous killing intent.
Kobe Hikaru had arrived.
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