Chapter 103: Hikaru's Plan, Kikyo's Support
The afternoon sun slanted across the shrine's wooden porch, bathing the polished floor in a warm, golden light. Kikyo sat there in quiet contemplation, a portrait of serene grace.
Her white kosode was simple and elegant, the collar falling open just enough to reveal the delicate line of her collarbone and the pale, slender column of her neck. The vibrant red of her hakama was wrapped snugly around her long legs as she sat, the fabric tracing the contours of her knees and calves. Where she knelt, the cloth drew tight, hinting at the full curve of her hips and casting deep shadows in the folds.
A single white ribbon held her jet-black hair in place, the ends spilling over her shoulders like liquid ink. A few stray strands had escaped, framing a face of delicate and timeless beauty.
She did not speak.
And Hikaru did not rush her.
He had just finished recounting the events of the past few days, leaving no detail unsaid.
The Echigo Army, marching south under the 'Bi' banner, had carved a path of destruction in the name of demon extermination. He had moved to intercept them, cutting down their general, Kakizaki Kageie, in a decisive strike. The remaining thousand-strong force had scattered and retreated.
There was the matter of the deceased Hojo Clan ashigaru, whose sheer obsession had carried his corpse to the village entrance to deliver a final, desperate message.
Then there were the twenty-odd small demons, their homes obliterated by the Echigo Army's campaign, who now knelt before him, begging for shelter.
And finally, the strange, divine power he had sensed within the enemy general—a power he suspected was connected to a god.
Kikyo's gaze drifted to a corner of the courtyard. A motley collection of oddities huddled there, shrinking into themselves. There was a Hitotsume-kozo clutching a tattered umbrella, a little girl with twitching fox ears, a giant rat with a crudely bandaged leg, and a Kappa that looked more like a pile of mud than a living creature.
They crowded together, pressing themselves into the furthest corner of the shrine's protective barrier, scarcely daring to breathe. As Kikyo's gaze swept over them, the bravest of the lot—a trembling Tanuki Spirit—instantly retracted its head behind the Hitotsume-kozo's umbrella. The single, painted eye on the umbrella's surface squeezed shut in sympathetic terror.
Kikyo withdrew her gaze. Her pitch-black eyes held no disgust, no hint of killing intent—only deep, quiet thought. She could see the inherent weakness in these minor demons, and she could feel that their souls were not stained with the resentment that came from wanton slaughter.
"You want to take them in," she stated, her voice soft.
Hikaru nodded, his expression unreadable. He was direct. "I need to establish my own faction."
Kikyo's long eyelashes fluttered.
"Kikyo," Hikaru's voice was even, but his words carried a heavy certainty. "You remember what I told you before. The Hundred Demon forces in Kyoto are watching us now. The two of us alone can stop a single Kidomaru, but we can't stop all of Kyoto. That great yokai, the one they call Hagoromo Gitsune, has more than just one powerful subordinate."
He paused, letting the weight of his words settle. ", the human world is hardly quiet. The Imagawa, the Hojo, the Echigo—they're all circling Musashi Province like vultures. One day it's a troop of soldiers at our doorstep, the next it's some warrior claiming the blessing of Bishamonten."
"I can't stay in the village forever, and neither can you," he continued. "But we cannot allow what happened to those slaughtered villages out there to happen to Kaede Village."
Kikyo looked at him, her gaze unwavering. She understood his thinking, his intentions. He was always preparing for a storm, even on the calmest of days.
"So you plan to use these small demons?" There was no mockery in her tone, only a quiet inquiry. She glanced at the shivering creatures in the courtyard corner. "They are very weak."
"I know."
"So weak they couldn't even defeat an ordinary samurai."
"I know that, too."
A slight frown creased Kikyo's brow. "Then you—"
"The weak will become strong," Hikaru interrupted, his voice firm. "Just like me. When I crawled out of that pile of corpses on the battlefield three months ago, I wasn't much stronger than that rat with the broken leg."
Kikyo fell silent. She could not refute his words.
After a long moment, she rose. She walked to the edge of the porch, leaning against a weathered wooden pillar as she looked out at the small demons huddled in the courtyard. The afternoon sun caught her, tinting her white kosode with a faint, warm glow. A gentle breeze stirred, and her jet-black hair fluttered at her neck, revealing the fair, graceful nape beneath. The line of her collarbone was a delicate shadow in the hollow of her throat.
Hikaru's gaze lingered on her for two seconds before he forced himself to look away. It wasn't that he didn't want to look. It was that to continue staring would be impolite. Though they were lovers, he would not disturb her when she was lost in serious thought.
"I am a priestess," Kikyo said finally, her voice calm but imbued with a certain solemnity. "From childhood, everything I was taught was about exorcising evil and protecting the human world. Demons are the enemy. This is common sense."
Hikaru said nothing, waiting for her to continue.
Kikyo turned, her dark eyes meeting his. In the sunlight, they were as clear as mountain springs.
"But I know very well that common sense is sometimes wrong," she said. "The line between good and evil is not drawn by race, but by action. Those minor demons have never harmed anyone, yet they are hunted simply because they are 'non-human.' Those armies march under the banner of demon-slaying, yet they burn and pillage along the way, and their actions are excused simply because they are 'human.'"
Her lips pursed, a faint cherry color that stood out against her pale skin. "If even I cannot distinguish between the two... then I am not fit to be your priestess."
This had always been her way. For demons who did not radiate overwhelming resentment or the stench of innocent blood, Kikyo had always preferred to simply drive them away rather than destroy them. It was the same mercy she had shown Hikaru at the very beginning. Exorcism was a complex art; there was a difference between healing, repelling, and annihilating.
Her words hung in the air. She walked back to Hikaru and sat down opposite him, their knees almost touching.
Of her own accord, she reached out and took his hand. Their fingers interlaced, her palm a surprising, comforting warmth against his own cold skin.
"Whatever you want to do, go and do it," Kikyo's voice was soft, yet perfectly clear. "Whether it's taking them in or building a faction—"
"I support you."
Hikaru tightened his grip on her hand, feeling the warmth seep from her fingers into his. "Aren't you afraid others will say you're colluding with demons?"
A smile bloomed on Kikyo's face, sudden and radiant. "I'm already colluding."
A corresponding smile touched Hikaru's lips. He drew her hand toward him, lowered his head, and pressed a gentle kiss to her knuckles.
Kikyo's fingers twitched slightly at the contact, but she did not pull away.
"Kikyo."
"Thank you."
"There is no need for thanks," her voice grew even softer. "I am only doing what should be done."
A comfortable silence spread between them. The afternoon sun crept slowly westward, stretching their shadows long across the porch.
In the corner of the yard, the small demons had poked their heads out at some point, peeking at the two figures on the shrine steps. The Hitotsume-kozo's single eye was wide and round. The fox-eared girl's ears were pricked straight up. The Tanuki Spirit's mouth hung agape.
What were they seeing?
A terrifying Oni Samurai and a priestess so powerful they didn't even dare approach her.
Holding hands.
Looking into each other's eyes.
And then—
With a resonant hum, a shimmering barrier of spiritual power erected itself, cutting off the shrine from the outside world. The view of the two figures vanished, leaving the little demons staring at an opaque wall of light.
Inside the newly formed sanctum, Hikaru paused.
Kikyo pursed her lips. Then, tilting her head up slightly, she leaned forward.
Their lips met in a gentle, certain press.
It was perfectly natural. There was no hesitation, no shyness, as if it was something they had done a thousand times before.
Kikyo's eyelashes fluttered down, masking the sudden turbulence in her eyes. Her free hand came to rest on Hikaru's shoulder, her fingers unconsciously tightening their grip on the fabric of his collar. The wind sighed, catching the loose ends of her hair and brushing them against their overlapping faces.
When they finally pulled apart, the tips of Kikyo's ears were flushed a delicate red, but her expression remained serene. Only her breathing was a little more hurried than before.
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