Chapter 105: An Empty Castle and a Daimyo's Gambit
Odawara Castle. The strongest fortress in all of Kanto.
Arriving here once again, Kobe Hikaru stood on a hill overlooking the city. A thin, ethereal layer of blood mist spread out from him, shrouding his form and the twenty-three small demons huddled in his shadow.
In the distance, the colossal castle, nestled between the mountains and the sea, seemed unnervingly silent under the afternoon sun. Stone walls rose in layered tiers, bristling with densely packed arrow towers, while the city's massive gates were sealed tight.
Hikaru's eyes narrowed. Something was different from his last visit to slay the Gakimaru. The flags atop the city walls had changed. It was no longer just the Hojo Clan's three-scale crest; now, signal flags indicating 'battle readiness' snapped in the wind.
Something's not right.
He frowned. Though the gates were closed and the residents appeared to be in their homes, the life force within the city—the collective presence of its people—felt strangely muted.
Blood mist, nearly invisible to the naked eye, seeped from beneath his skin. It flowed like a silent, crimson tide down the hillside, creeping toward the castle walls. Using his blood as his eyes, he expanded his perception once more.
The world within his mind's eye slowly unfolded, and the situation inside the city gradually came into focus.
There were very few defenders. Far fewer than the last time he was here.
While the commoners seemed to be going about their lives, the number of samurai patrolling the streets had dwindled significantly. A quick scan of the stables confirmed his suspicion—more than half of the warhorses were gone.
"The main force has been redeployed," Hikaru concluded, his voice a low murmur. It was the only logical explanation. He could only see, not hear, but the visual evidence was obvious.
He had no intention of revealing himself. There was no need. Unlike his direct contact with the Imagawa Clan, his previous visit to Odawara had been confined to a dream. He hadn't exposed his true movements. Dreams were hazy things; most people struggled to recall them clearly unless a similar, deep-seated stimulus triggered the memory.
Therefore, neither the Hojo Clan nor the people of this city knew who he was. To suddenly appear as a demon in a crimson oni mask would only invite unnecessary chaos.
Besides, he hadn't come alone this time.
The Oni Samurai turned, his masked gaze falling upon the group of small yokai huddled within the blood mist behind him.
"Disperse," he commanded, his voice muffled by the mask. "Go into the city. Listen to what the Hojo Clan's people are saying."
The Tanuki Spirit blinked, taken aback. "L-Lord, we're going into the city?"
"You can't enter looking like that," Hikaru stated flatly. "Transform."
"Transform?"
"Aren't you a tanuki?"
An embarrassed expression flickered across the Tanuki Spirit's furry face. He was indeed a Tanuki Spirit, and their specialty was the art of transformation. The problem was, his skill level was what one might call 'one and a half transformations.'The first'one'had been spent developing his intelligence, leaving only a'half' for the actual shapeshifting.
Because of this, the human form he could assume was fixed and flawed. A stubborn tuft of hair always remained on his nose, his tail refused to be completely hidden, and he couldn't maintain the illusion for long.
"Lord, my transformation art… it can only last for half an hour…"
"That's enough." Hikaru pulled a thread condensed from blood mist out of his robes and wrapped it around the Tanuki Spirit's wrist. "This blood thread will help obscure your… abnormalities. Once you're inside, stay away from monks and shrines. Find the tea houses and taverns. Listen to what people are saying."
He then looked at the Hitotsume-kozo and the Fox-eared Girl.
"The same goes for you. Transform if you can. If you can't, hide on the rooftops." His instructions were precise. "Remember—only listen. Do not speak, do not touch, and absolutely no stealing."
"In half an hour, meet at the pine forest south of the city."
The little yokai exchanged glances, then scattered.
The Tanuki Spirit pinched his nose and, with a soft poof, morphed into a short, stout middle-aged merchant. His tail was barely tucked into his trouser leg as he waddled toward the city gate. The Hitotsume-kozo covered his head with a tattered paper umbrella, shrinking his entire body beneath it until only two feet in straw sandals were visible, pitter-pattering away to join a group of farmers carrying shoulder poles.
The Fox-eared Girl gathered fallen leaves from the surroundings, weaving them into a wreath to cover her vulpine ears. She was a Hanyo—a very weak half-demon—which was why she could maintain a human form. Though she lacked other abilities, she at least looked the part.
The rest, who truly lacked any skill for transformation—a giant rat with a broken leg, a severed centipede, a two-headed crow, and their ilk—scrambled into the treetops and onto the rooftops outside the city, pricking up their ears to listen from afar.
Hikaru leaned against an old pine tree on the hill and closed his eyes. The blood mist served as his sight.
And these twenty-three little yokai had just become his ears.
Soon, fragmented whispers began to filter back to him.
"The lord of this city… took her troops to the front lines…"
"…The Imagawa Clan is attacking again."
"Heard it's not for territory this time."
"…Imagawa Yoshimoto came personally… said she's looking for someone…"
"…What Demon God? Never heard of him…"
"…I think his name was… Hikaru?"
At that last report, from a yokai who couldn't quite recall his full name, Hikaru's eyes snapped open.
Imagawa Yoshimoto. Personally leading an army. Not for conquest.
But to find… him?
"Interesting."
He stood up. The images brought by the blood mist and the information from his yokai were converging, piecing together a clear picture of the game being played.
Three days ago, the Imagawa Clan had suddenly assembled over two thousand troops, marching from Suruga Province and entering the Hojo Clan's sphere of influence to the east. But this army did not lay siege to cities or plunder the countryside. They didn't even cross the traditional border between the two houses.
They simply lined up on the border plains and unfurled their banners.
Then, they sent an envoy to Odawara Castle.
The envoy's exact words were recounted in various ways by the city's commoners, but the core message was singular and unwavering:
"Hand over the Demon God, Hikaru."
Hojo Ujiyasu, of course, refused. Not because she cared about Hikaru—she didn't even know who or what that name referred to.
But on what grounds? Imagawa Yoshimoto had marched to her territory to boss her around, demanding she hand over something she had never even seen?
This was a provocation. An absolute, obvious provocation.
Thus, Hojo Ujiyasu had gathered her troops and personally led them to the border for a confrontation. The Lion of Sagami never initiated attacks, but she would never tolerate another flaunting their power at her doorstep. Just as they had last time the Imagawa Clan came charging aggressively, the Hojo had struck back decisively.
The last war had ended in a bizarre, inexplicable fashion. But that didn't mean she was afraid.
Currently, the two armies were facing off at the border of Suruga and Musashi Province.
Battle had not yet commenced. But the air was thick with tension.
Meanwhile, west of Mount Hakone, on the border of the two provinces, lay Jentaigahara. It was an open plain, flanked by low hills to the north and south, with vast, dry fields and grasslands stretching between them.
The Hojo Clan's army, numbering about fifteen hundred men, was stationed on the northern hills.
The Imagawa Clan's army occupied the southern rise, their banners a sea of fabric, their numbers close to two thousand.
The two armies were separated by three li. The plain between them was empty, save for the autumn wind that swirled through the withered yellow grass.
In the northern camp, Hojo Ujiyasu stood on the high platform of her main encampment. She wore a suit of light armor over her deep purple kimono, her jet-black hair fluttering in the wind. No emotion showed on her exquisite face, but the slight downturn of her lips betrayed a deep well of gloom and dissatisfaction.
Standing beside her were several elderly vassals, all wearing solemn expressions.
"Report! The Imagawa have sent another envoy with the same demand as before: for us to hand over the 'Demon God Hikaru'!" a messenger announced, kneeling below the platform.
Hojo Ujiyasu's gaze remained fixed on the fluttering Imagawa banners to the south, her tone as cold as winter stone. "Demon God Hikaru, Demon God Hikaru… What in the world is that?" she bit out. "This is the fifth time. What madness has possessed Imagawa Yoshimoto?"
An elder vassal beside her whispered, "My Lord, I have made some inquiries… The name 'Kobe Hikaru' has become quite famous in Suruga recently. It is said to be the name of a yokai—"
"A yokai?"
"Yes. The stories claim that over half a month ago, the main castle of Suruga was attacked by a Raiju. It was this yokai who slew the beast. Imagawa Yoshimoto even built a shrine in the city to worship him, calling him the 'Thunder-Slashing Demon God'."
Hojo Ujiyasu's brow furrowed. A memory stirred.
Over half a month ago… the entire city of Odawara had fallen into a nightmare.
That nightmare. That burning city.
The figure with red eyes and white hair that had appeared in her dream.
"...It was him?" she murmured, the words barely audible.
That yokai from her dream? The entity that had summoned lightning to burn away the moth's scale powder and slay the monstrous insect? She had always forced herself to believe it was just a dream. Or rather, she was unwilling to admit it was real.
Because if it were real, it meant that she, Hojo Ujiyasu, owed a favor to a yokai. And she hated owing favors more than anything.
But now, it seemed her denial was no longer an option.
"My Lord?" the vassal asked, seeing the shifting emotions on her face.
"It's nothing." Hojo Ujiyasu reined in her thoughts, her gaze snapping back to the south. "Regardless of who this Demon God Hikaru is, he is not here with me. If Imagawa Yoshimoto wants someone, let her find him herself."
Her tone turned frigid. "Coming to my territory to make demands—does she think my Hojo Clan is an easy target?"
In the southern camp, the atmosphere was starkly different.
Imagawa Yoshimoto's main camp bore no resemblance to a solemn military command. It felt more like a leisurely outing. A sunshade had been erected before the main tent, with low tables placed beneath it, laden with exquisite tea sets and delicate snacks.
Yoshimoto herself sat within the tent, her twelve-layered junihitoe kimono piled around her like a vibrant, luxurious mountain of silk. Her dark brown hair cascaded like a waterfall onto the brocade cushion behind her, while golden butterfly ornaments pinned in her hair shimmered in the sunlight.
Her charming, exquisite face held a hint of casual amusement, as if she were here for a scenic viewing rather than a war. She picked up a teacup and took a small, delicate sip.
"The Hojo side has refused again," a maid reported, kneeling before her.
"As expected." Yoshimoto set down her teacup, her red lips parting in a leisurely smile. "That woman, Hojo Ujiyasu… though she hates taking risks, she hates being told what to do even more. The more I demand, the more stubbornly she will refuse."
"However—" The corners of her mouth curled up into a smile that could only be described as cunning. "It doesn't matter."
"My target isn't Hojo, anyway."
"It's just that… that person, the Demon God Kobe Hikaru, last appeared in Suruga and immediately went to the Hojo Clan's Odawara Castle. I heard that in a single night, he slew demons from all four directions." Yoshimoto's tone was light, as if she were telling a fascinating story. She had heard all this from the traveling merchants who passed through her lands; their information was always the freshest.
"The range of his activities is in Musashi Province," she continued. "And Musashi Province is Hojo territory."
"So, the place he is most likely to appear… is right here." She picked up a piece of wagashi topped with chestnuts and took a dainty bite. "I only need to make a big enough commotion."
"And there's a very high probability I can attract his attention."
A dangerous sparkle lit Imagawa Yoshimoto's eyes. It wasn't the fanaticism of a warlord eager for battle. It was the keen anticipation of a hunter waiting for her prey to walk straight into the trap.
Except, what she wanted to 'hunt' wasn't Hikaru's life. It was the person himself—or rather, the yokai.
He was the future of her Imagawa Clan.
"Onigami-sama, Onigami-sama—" she mumbled to herself, chewing on the sweet pastry.
"Come quickly."
"I've come all this way specifically to fetch you."
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