Chapter 102: The First Step of a Night Parade; Kikyo's Return
Night had fully descended, casting a pale, spectral moonlight over the wilderness outside Kaede Village.
The tanuki yokai's voice was a low, desperate rasp, spoken so close to the ground it seemed he feared the wind itself might carry his words away.
"Lord... we truly... we mean no harm..."
Behind him, a motley collection of yokai poked their heads out, their forms a study in fear and desperation. A Hitotsume-kozō, his single, oversized eye wide with terror; a young fox-spirit girl with trembling ears; a giant rat dragging a mangled leg... and several other minor yokai, too insignificant to have names, all bearing fresh wounds.
They stared at him, their gazes a mixture of hope and raw fear.
Hikaru made a quick, silent count. There were about twenty of them in total. Not a single one, however, had surpassed the Second Transformation.
The strongest of the lot was the tanuki who had spoken, and even he was barely at the level of one-and-a-half transformations. He had managed the first, but the second was clearly incomplete, the change having focused on his mind rather than his body. His combat strength was likely only a marginal improvement over that of an ordinary, non-yokai tanuki.
The rest hovered around the First Transformation, their power seemingly channeled into developing their intelligence rather than their physical might. In the brutal hierarchy of the yokai world, this group was firmly at the bottom of the food chain. Barring those with naturally large frames, even a common farmer with a pitchfork could probably chase them off.
Seeing Hikaru remain silent, the tanuki's eyes reddened, his posture taking on a startlingly human-like expression of grief.
"Our three villages once held nearly eighty yokai... But then the Echigo army came. They burned two of our settlements to the ground. We fled the third, but... half of us were cut down as we ran."
His voice cracked. "The rest of us scattered... only we are left..."
He sniffed, his small nose twitching. "We ran south, all the way, until we sensed the Yao Qi here... It was so dense, yet... it wasn't savage."
"Then we saw you, Lord..." the tanuki continued, his voice dropping to a reverent whisper. "We watched you, alone, drive back that human army."
With a sudden thud, the tanuki dropped to his knees, pressing his forehead to the dirt.
"Lord! Please, take us in!" he begged. "Those human armies will return! They fly banners of 'yokai extermination' and slaughter any they find, regardless of whether we have ever harmed a soul!"
"We... we just want to live!"
Behind him, the other small yokai fell to their knees in a ragged line, a silent chorus of desperation. More than twenty incredibly weak yokai, all prostrating themselves before a single Oni Samurai.
The scene was faintly comical.
It was also... difficult to describe.
Hikaru looked down at them, his crimson eyes unreadable. The moonlight washed over their broken forms, stretching their shadows long and thin across the blood-soaked ground.
They were weak. So weak they couldn't hope to stand against a single trained samurai. So weak that taking them in would offer no discernible boost to his own combat power.
By the cold logic of most demons, these creatures were worthless. Devouring them might grant a negligible flicker of Yao Qi, but that was the extent of their value.
But as he had long since established, Hikaru was not a normal demon.
He looked at the kneeling yokai, and his thoughts drifted elsewhere.
Hagoromo Gitsune.
Kidomaru.
And the phrase that echoed through the legends of this era—the Night Parade of a Hundred Demons.
In this world, the truly great yokai were never solitary figures. The mighty Shuten-dōji, who once terrorized the land, commanded his Four Heavenly Kings and the entire demon horde of Mount Ōe. Hagoromo Gitsune had her hundred demons lurking in the Kyoto underground, with Kidomaru and other great yokai stronger than him as her generals, not to mention countless lesser monsters.
Even that freeloader Nurarihyon, who wandered the country mooching off others, was busy recruiting followers. His ambition was to become the Lord of Pandemonium, to forge his own Night Parade of a Hundred Demons.
And Hikaru knew that one day, he would succeed.
So, what about him?
Hikaru's mind flashed back to the night he was pushed to the absolute brink by Kidomaru. If he hadn't been able to borrow the favorability of the entire Kanto Region, if Kikyo hadn't been there to lend her power, he would have been annihilated.
And what about the next time?
Kidomaru was just one of Hagoromo Gitsune's subordinates. As far as Hikaru knew, while Kidomaru was an exceptional warrior among the Kyoto yokai, he was far from the strongest. There were at least five others who surpassed him.
That wasn't even accounting for Hagoromo Gitsune herself—an ancient and terrible being with ties to the legendary Nine-Tailed Fox, Tamamo-no-Mae.
Just he and Kikyo, no matter how powerful they became, would eventually reach their limit. No matter how strong a single person is, they cannot be everywhere at once.
Therefore—
A faction.
The word materialized in his mind, sharp and clear. He needed his own faction. Not to become a king or a conqueror, but so that when he next faced the horrors of Kyoto, it would no longer be just him and Kikyo standing alone. So that when he was away, someone could watch over Kaede Village. So that when the enemy attacked on multiple fronts, he would not be stretched so thin.
Nurarihyon wanted to build a Night Parade of a Hundred Demons and bring the yokai of the world under his banner.
Why couldn't he?
After all, if the world of Nurarihyon existed as a parallel to this one, then the concept of the Night Parade held a special, almost fundamental significance.
He didn't need a massive, sprawling organization. He just needed a team of yokai who could follow orders, coordinate in a fight, gather intelligence, and prove useful at a critical moment.
Even if they were weak.
Even if they were just scraps from the bottom of the food chain.
Having something was better than having nothing.
Besides—
He had the favorability system. He could form bonds with inanimate objects and communicate with all things. If he applied that same ability to managing yokai...
"Stand up."
Hikaru's voice was not loud, but it cut through the night with absolute clarity. "Go inside the barrier first."
The tanuki yokai looked up, his face a mask of disbelief. "My Lord... does that mean..."
"I said, go inside." Hikaru turned and began walking toward the village. "Settle in for tonight. We will discuss the rest tomorrow."
He paused, his voice hardening slightly. "But remember this: you are not to disturb the villagers. You are not to frighten anyone. And you are absolutely forbidden from harming or eating humans."
"Otherwise—"
The unspoken threat hung in the air, making the small band of yokai tremble. Yet, beneath their fear was a wave of overwhelming relief and surprise. They had no intention of harming anyone in the first place. They were small, weak, and enlightened enough not to be consumed by their base instincts. They understood that humans, while seemingly fragile, possessed a terrifying collective strength. They had never killed or eaten a human, nor did they ever want to.
The group of yokai remained frozen for a moment, dazed. Then, as if snapping out of a trance, they scrambled to their feet and stumbled after him.
The Hitotsume-kozō ran with such excitement that his single eye spun in its socket. The fox-eared girl clutched the tail of the giant rat, letting the larger creature pull her along.
The tanuki yokai walked at the very rear. He glanced back one last time at the cold battlefield, where the undead remains summoned by Hikaru were dragging corpses beneath the earth, and at the distant, fading silhouettes of the Echigo army that had vanished completely into the night.
He took a deep, shuddering breath.
Then he turned and hurried to catch up with the gray-clad figure ahead.
The next day.
Sunlight filtered through the shrine's wooden lattices, spilling a patch of warmth across the porch.
The wooden door to the rear hall slid open.
Kikyo stepped out.
Seven days of seclusion had wrought a subtle but deep change in her. Her white kosode was as pristine as ever, her red hakama swaying with each graceful step. Her jet-black hair was tied back with a simple white ribbon, the ends spilling over her shoulders, a few stray strands framing her face.
That delicate, elegant face was even more serene than before she had entered her retreat. In her pitch-black eyes, the light of her spiritual power was now perfectly contained, no longer leaking out. She was like a deep, still pool—the bottom was invisible, but one could feel the immense power resting within its depths.
She walked to the porch and saw Hikaru.
He was sitting there cross-legged. The dragon scale and the Nekomata's Claws were laid out before him, and the small red comb was tucked safely into his robes.
But he wasn't working on his demon tools.
He was waiting for her.
"You're finished with your seclusion?" he asked, looking up. His crimson eyes met her calm gaze.
Kikyo sat down opposite him, their knees no more than a foot apart.
Her eyes swept across the courtyard outside the shrine. There were a few new things there. Or, to be more precise, a few new presences.
But she didn't ask. She knew Hikaru would explain.
He never concealed what was necessary from her.
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