Chapter 61: Muzan's Reaction, Tsubaki: Give Me Your Shikigami
Thousands of miles from Musashi Province, in a part of eastern Japan far from the Demon Slayer Village, lay a bustling city. Hidden deep within its crowded streets was a particular mansion.
As the sun climbed into the sky, the estate's high walls cast long, deep shadows, blocking out all light. A dense canopy of locust trees grew within, shrouding the entire building in a perpetual, cold chill.
In the deepest chamber of this shadowed mansion, the paper shoji doors were sealed shut. No lamps were lit. The only illumination came from mottled patches of sunlight that pierced the thick foliage outside, casting faint, shifting spots of light upon the tatami mats.
A man sat in the darkness, where the sun could not reach.
He was dressed in an elegant kimono, his face impossibly handsome and his skin excessively pale, as if it had never once been touched by the sun. His eyes were a stark, inhuman red, with vertical pupils that marked him as something other than human.
He was sipping tea.
In the next instant, his hand froze. The placid surface of the water in his cup trembled, disturbed by a sudden ripple.
'Dead?'
He set the teacup down, the corners of his mouth turning down ever so slightly. As the Progenitor of Demons, he had felt the precise moment one of the vile creatures he had created ceased to exist.
For a demon he had personally sired, that one's strength had not been insignificant. It could have ranked among the top echelons of his current forces and was one of the primary agents searching for the object of his obsession. Its power was infinitely close to that of the high-level demons of this era. To those unaware of its weakness, its sheer immortality was enough to give even those powerful demons a headache, making them unwilling to provoke it.
It was a creature whose potential was equivalent to one of the Twelve Kizuki of later generations.
And now, it was dead.
An existence that should have been immortal had been utterly destroyed.
'Interesting.'Kibutsuji Muzan—a name little known in the human world, but an absolute taboo among the aberrant demons who were not true yokai—allowed a flicker of interest to cross his features.'This era still has its share of powerful individuals.'
He wasn't truly surprised. The Sengoku period was a chaotic age where heroes and villains rose and fell like the tide. It wasn't merely a human conflict; yokai, demons, mages, and Onmyoji were all entangled in a web of strife, making it far more volatile than most eras that had preceded it.
The grand spectacle of centuries past—when great demon kingdoms held dominion over the land and even the formidable Kyoto Shogunate was powerless against them—was no more. The days of the Heian Period, when gods frequently performed miracles, were long gone.
But this era was by no means weak.
Muzan was quite wary of the powers that still lingered. It wasn't simply a matter of not being able to win a fight. He knew, with cold certainty, that he could not match the top-tier combatants of this age—the great mages, the master Onmyoji, and especially the Great Demons. Their strength was formidable, so overwhelming that he could never hope to confront them head-on.
But Muzan could not die. As long as he avoided the sun, he was immortal. Those Great Demons could wound him, grievously even, but they could not kill him.
similarly, however, he was powerless against those ancient monsters who had already undergone their qualitative transformation.
More, though he was immortal, Kibutsuji Muzan had a weakness.
Sunlight.
Even though he rarely showed himself in public, he was confident that no one, no existence, could force him into the sun. If he was determined to flee, not even the Great Demons could hold him without prior intelligence. Yet he remained wary, even fearful.
The thought that consumed him was always the same.
'Only by solving the problem of sunlight…'
Muzan's eyes narrowed. This was the singular goal he had pursued for hundreds of years: to overcome his fear of the sun and achieve true, perfect immortality.
When that day came, the Great Demons, the mages, the priestesses—none of them would be worthy of his notice.
'Just a little longer.'
He picked up the teacup and resumed sipping his tea. As for the demon that had been killed? It was irrelevant. If it was dead, it was dead. He could always create more.
However…
The one capable of killing that creature… was it a member of the Demon Slayer Corps?
In this era, few knew of his existence, and fewer still knew the weaknesses of his 'demons'. Only that organization that relentlessly targeted him, the one that shared the 'same origin'as his bloodline, was the most likely culprit. He knew, for some strange reason, that this'Demon Slayer Corps' did not dare announce his existence to the other major powers.
Muzan's gaze drifted toward the window. He stared at the lush, vibrant sunlight, his mind making a cold calculation. He had no intention of investigating. There was no need. It was just one demon. A relatively strong one, yes, but he had plenty of subordinates.
In any case, Muzan had no desire to expose his whereabouts. At least, not yet.
'When I conquer the sun… then, this world—'
A stray thought surfaced. He had heard that the legendary Shikon Jewel had recently reappeared. That object, he mused, might be worth… exploring.
"Is something wrong?"
A voice suddenly echoed beside Muzan's ear.
His expression remained perfectly neutral. Though the voice was sudden, he seemed long accustomed to it. He merely lifted his eyes to the elderly figure that had materialized before him and offered a smile that looked disturbingly like fawning.
"No, it's nothing, Lord Kidomaru."
...
On the back mountain of the Demon Slayer Village, the horizon began to glow with the pale white of a fish's belly.
Under the first rays of dawn, the demon's body crumbled into a pile of fine ash. A few wisps of black smoke still curled from the remains, lingering in the cool morning air.
Hikaru glanced at the pile.
'It really is the Demon Slayer setup.'
He rose to his feet and clapped the dust from his hands. The bone armor, the demonic plates, and the menacing mask all receded back into his body, melting away as if they were never there. The white-haired, cold-faced Oni Samurai stood in the morning breeze, his simple grey clothes fluttering around him.
Kikyo walked over, the hem of her red hakama damp with dew. Her expression was calm, but a thoughtful light swirled in the depths of her dark eyes. Tsubaki followed half a step behind, her face a mask of unconcealed astonishment.
Though he hid his true nature as a transmigrator, Hikaru had still explained the existence of these 'demons' to them. After listening, both Kikyo and Tsubaki were clearly taken aback.
Ultimately, while the Progenitor of Demons, Kibutsuji Muzan, had been creating his kind since his own birth, their total number was not large due to his deliberate concealment. Across the vast lands of Japan, the probability of encountering one was actually quite low. Compared to the ceaseless wars, frequent natural disasters, and the yokai ravaging every province, the human casualties caused by Muzan's demons were simply insignificant.
Even if, by Hikaru's guess, the current Muzan was in a dormant stage, he likely wasn't as cowardly as he would become in later generations. He shouldn't have yet met the Sun Breathing swordsman, Tsugikuni Yoriichi, whose power was like the sun itself. But Muzan's caution had likely been a constant from the very beginning; the only difference was whether he had completely hidden himself behind the scenes.
So, for the two priestesses, this was the first time they had ever encountered such a creature. The first time they had even heard of such a thing.
Neither a phantom nor a yokai, but simply a 'demon' born from an infected human. It was a completely alien concept.
"How do you know all this?" the priestess Tsubaki asked suddenly, her gaze fixed on Hikaru.
"I guessed," Hikaru replied casually.
"Who are you trying to fool?" Tsubaki's brow furrowed. "When you called out that name just now, that thing's reaction… it didn't seem like it was reacting to a 'guess'."
Hikaru did not answer. He simply said, "Some things are better left unknown."
He added, "You only need to know one thing—this type of creature dies in the sunlight."
Tsubaki looked like she wanted to press him further, but Kikyo's voice cut her off.
"Enough."
The priestess in white and red stood not far away, her longbow already put away. Her black hair drifted gently in the morning breeze. She glanced at Tsubaki, then at Hikaru.
"We will speak of this later."
Tsubaki gritted her teeth but did not argue.
The three of them stood on the messy, torn-up battlefield, a moment of silence stretching between them.
Then—
"I don't want the Shikon Jewel anymore," Tsubaki suddenly declared.
Kikyo's brow twitched almost imperceptibly.
Hikaru also turned his head, looking at the rival priestess who had just had such a sudden change of heart.
Tsubaki's expression was dead serious. On her glamorous face, the previous arrogance and resentment were gone, replaced by an indescribable… eagerness.
"What did you say?" Kikyo asked.
"I said, I don't want the Shikon Jewel anymore," Tsubaki repeated, her gaze then swinging to lock onto Hikaru. "I can give up the ritual duel with you. I can give up the struggle for the Shikon Jewel."
"But—" She took a deep, shuddering breath.
"Give your shikigami to me."
"..."
Hikaru fell silent.
Kikyo also fell silent.
The air seemed to freeze over.
Tsubaki, however, grew more animated as she spoke, her voice gaining a feverish pitch.
"I saw the entire battle just now!" she exclaimed, pointing a trembling finger at Hikaru. "Those bone spikes, that armor, and that Dance of Bones… it was like a demon god descending to the world!"
"I have never seen such a fighting style!" she cried, her eyes frighteningly bright. "Never seen such an existence!"
She turned back to Kikyo. "Kikyo, you have the Shikon Jewel. You have a village to protect, and countless people who look up to you. You already have everything."
"This shikigami—give him to me! I am a priestess from Tahoto. When it comes to commanding shikigami, I am stronger than you!"
She had seen it all too clearly. The bones blooming from his body like a grotesque flower, the crimson armor reflecting the moonlight, the dance of blade and bone weaving the cruelest mix of death.
In that moment, her heart had pounded faster than ever before. Faster than when she exorcised her first demon alone. Faster than when her master praised her for her 'excellent talent'. Faster, even, than when she watched Kikyo pierce through a swarm of demons with a single, flawless arrow.
She had been jealous of Kikyo. Jealous that she was stronger, jealous that she possessed the Shikon Jewel, jealous that she was always so infuriatingly calm.
But now, that jealousy had vanished.
She only wanted to snatch away that monster covered in bone spikes. To claim him. To make him her own.
The thought startled Tsubaki herself. She had never felt this way about anyone or anything. But she couldn't control it.
Such words, spoken so suddenly, left both Hikaru and Kikyo at a complete loss.
In their silence, Tsubaki assumed she had won. After all, compared to the Shikon Jewel, what was a single 'shikigami'? In her mind, she was the one taking a huge loss.
"So… is it a deal?" she asked tentatively.
Then she saw it.
Kikyo's face held no expression. Absolutely none.
But a complete lack of expression was, in itself, an expression.
The air remained quiet for three long seconds.
Then, Kikyo turned around. Her movements were devoid of emotion as she walked ten paces away and stopped.
She drew her bow.
An arrow was nocked.
She aimed it directly at Tsubaki.
"The ritual duel," Kikyo's voice was as cold and sharp as splintered ice. "Let it begin, Tsubaki."
Tsubaki stared, utterly baffled. "???"
Did this woman not hear a single word I just said!?
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