Chapter 153: The Death of Inuyasha
Though the demonic aura—the Yoki—had manifested with a crushing, suffocating weight, it did not advance. It halted exactly three hundred paces beyond the perimeter of Kaede Village, anchoring itself to the earth, as motionless and imposing as an ancient stone monolith.
Hikaru cast out his Blood Mist Perception, letting the crimson net wash over the forest to gather a clearer assessment. It was a single entity. A demon.
No, he corrected himself as the mist fed back finer details. There was a secondary, pitifully weak signature trailing beside it. Yet, the presence of the Great Yokai was so overwhelmingly intense that it swallowed the lesser demon's noise entirely, like a roaring bonfire masking the spark of a firefly.
The entity made no move to breach the village's barrier. It offered no probing strikes, no aggressive surges of power. It simply stood there in the dark, waiting.
"No hostility," Hikaru concluded, his voice a calm murmur.
If Sesshomaru had come looking for a slaughter, he wouldn't be waiting quietly in the trees. Given the Daiyokai's monstrous strength, the barrier surrounding Kaede Village couldn't possibly repel him—not unless Kikyo maintained it with every ounce of her spiritual power. But the demon hadn't forced his way inside. He had merely stopped, patiently expecting the village's occupants to step out and meet him.
"I'll go out and take a look."
Hikaru pulled the Crimson Oni Mask over his face. He shook out the folds of his gray robes, his crimson armor clinking softly in the quiet night. Surrounded by jagged bone spikes, he looked every bit the hideous ghost and fierce war god. Regardless of whether their visitor harbored killing intent, Hikaru was a pragmatist; he would go fully prepared for war.
Kikyo looked at him. Watching his broad, armored back stand so decisively between her and the unknown threat always grounded her. It offered a deep, quiet security.
Still, she shook her head. Her spiritual senses were razor-sharp; she knew exactly what lurked in the woods. The sheer density of that Yoki rivaled, if not surpassed, the monstrous Tsuchigumo they had faced earlier.
"You cannot beat him," Kikyo stated. Her voice was straightforward, devoid of sugar-coating. Her dark eyes locked onto his, serious and unyielding. "We will go out together."
"I know I cannot beat him," Hikaru replied, neither agreeing nor denying her assessment. "But if he wants a fight, hiding inside won't change the outcome. It is better to step out and see what he actually wants." He paused, adjusting his gauntlets. "Besides—if a fight does break out, you can provide support from within the barrier and cover my retreat."
While he was nowhere near the level of a Daiyokai, Hikaru had spent considerable time grinding the 'favorability' of the village and its surrounding terrain. If he needed to fall back, the geographical advantage he held here would guarantee his survival. In the immediate vicinity of Kaede Village, he was practically a localized Earth Deity.
Kikyo understood his logic perfectly. She fell silent for a moment, her grip tightening slightly on her bow, before giving a single nod.
"Then be careful."
"I will strike at any moment."
No wasted breath. No dramatic declarations. Just the same quiet reliability he always offered.
Beneath the grimacing mask, the corners of Hikaru's mouth curled upward. He gave her a slight nod, then turned, his boots leaving the ground as he leaped through the barrier. The spiritual light rippled gently around his armor, parting like water before sealing shut behind him.
He strode down the dirt path leading out of the village. The towering shadow of the wooden Torii gate swept over his head, casting him in momentary darkness. A crisp autumn wind funneled into his wide sleeves, whipping his pale hair wildly around his shoulders. He passed the weathered Jizo Bodhisattva statue marking the boundary, leaving the absolute safety of Kikyo's domain behind.
He did not rush those three hundred paces. He wasn't stalling; he was analyzing. With every step forward, the sheer gravity of the Yoki grew clearer, layering over his senses. It felt less like approaching a living creature and more like walking into the face of an invisible, sheer cliff.
Two hundred paces. One hundred paces.
Fifty paces.
Then, he saw them.
At the bend in the dirt road, two figures waited beneath the moonlight. One towering, one minuscule.
The taller figure possessed silver-white hair that cascaded past his waist, devoid of a single impure strand. It caught the cold autumn moonlight, shimmering with an icy, ethereal glow. His features were flawlessly handsome, transcending the rugged limits of human aesthetics. A perfect crescent moon rested in the center of his forehead, flanked by twin magenta stripes on his cheeks. His golden, slit-like pupils were half-closed, gazing down at Hikaru with an indifference so absolute it bordered on a void of emotion.
Over his pristine white kimono, he wore spiked armor. A massive, fluffy white pelt draped over his left shoulder, swaying slightly in the breeze as if it were a living beast. At his waist hung an ancient, understated katana.
Sesshomaru.
He looked exactly as Hikaru remembered from his past life—but the oppressive reality of his presence was entirely different. Viewing a character through a screen could never replicate the suffocating, instinctual terror of standing before a true Daiyokai. Tsuchigumo had been wild and flamboyant, broadcasting his malice so one could brace against it. Sesshomaru offered nothing. It was a bottomless, unknown strength, and that silent void was the greatest oppression of all.
Beside him stood a creature barely reaching Sesshomaru's knees. A green-skinned imp with a sharp, monkey-like visage. He wore dark brown, aristocratic robes and a tall official's hat, clutching a bizarre staff taller than himself. The staff's head bore a grotesque wooden carving of two faces—an old man on the left, a young woman on the right.
Hikaru recognized the demonic artifact immediately: the Staff of Two Heads, forged from the skull of a fire-breathing demon.
And holding it was Jaken. Sesshomaru's retainer, lackey, errand boy, punching bag, and mouthpiece.
The little green imp spotted the gray-clad samurai approaching from the barrier. In a fraction of a second, Jaken's face morphed from fawning sycophancy directed at his master to a sneer of utter arrogance. He thrust the Staff of Two Heads toward Hikaru.
"Hey! Are you that so-called Oni Samurai from around these parts?!" Jaken's voice was shrill, grating against the ears like a rusted iron hinge. "Why haven't you fallen to your knees to pay your respects?! This is the eldest son of the Western Lands' Great Dog Demon, the supreme Lord Sesshomaru! Laying eyes upon Lord Sesshomaru's true form is a blessing you've cultivated over eight lifetimes—"
Hikaru kept walking.
He stepped right past the screeching imp. He didn't spare the green demon a single glance. His crimson eyes behind the mask remained locked entirely on Sesshomaru.
"—Blessing, blessing... Hey! Are you deaf?! Did you hear what I said?!" Jaken stuttered, realizing he had been completely ignored. He hopped up and down in fury, slamming the base of his staff against the dirt.
Nobody paid him any mind.
Hikaru halted exactly three paces away from the Daiyokai. The hollow gaze of his Crimson Oni Mask met those cold, golden slits.
For three seconds, the forest held its breath. Sesshomaru did not twitch. He didn't even blink. He merely looked down, observing Hikaru the way one might look at an oddly shaped pebble on the road.
"You are that Oni Samurai," Sesshomaru finally spoke. His voice was a low, calm baritone. He spoke unhurriedly, every syllable dripping with an innate, effortless arrogance. It was the tone of a predator who had never once needed to view another living being as an equal.
The sheer condescension made Hikaru's skin prickle. Yet, he was a pragmatic demon. If the entity standing before him possessed overwhelming power, they naturally earned the right to look down on him. The solution was simple: he just needed to get stronger.
"Hmm," Hikaru replied, his tone flat.
Sesshomaru continued, "You can summon the dead."
Hikaru did not answer immediately. Beneath the mask, his eyes narrowed. His necromantic abilities weren't a heavily guarded secret, but they weren't public knowledge either. Kikyo knew. Momiji and Botan knew. And... Tsuchigumo. During his clash with the spider demon, he had used the soul-anchoring properties of his archery. Given Tsuchigumo's ancient lineage, the monster likely deduced the root of his power. And judging by the direction Sesshomaru had arrived from, the Daiyokai had likely crossed paths with the spider.
"It depends," Hikaru finally answered, keeping his voice measured. "The longer a lingering soul has been separated from the living world, the harder it is to recall. If the soul has completely dissipated, it cannot be brought back."
The ability to command the dead was rare, but with strict limitations, it wasn't an devastating anomaly. Elite human Onmyoji could achieve similar feats. However, demonic evolution was highly randomized. Unless a demon possessed a 'cheat' system like Hikaru, naturally developing undead manipulation was incredibly rare, even for a Daiyokai.
Sesshomaru's gaze lingered on the armored samurai. For the first time, a microscopic shift occurred in those golden eyes. It wasn't interest. It wasn't hostility. It was a deeply buried, imperceptible emotion that Hikaru couldn't quite identify—and frankly, didn't care to.
"I want you to summon a spirit," Sesshomaru stated. "In return, I will do one thing for you."
A fair trade. Hikaru processed the offer. This was exactly how Sesshomaru operated. He looked down on the weak, but that very condescension meant he viewed all transactions with absolute, cold equity. Having a Daiyokai of this caliber owe him a favor was an astronomical asset. But what kind of spirit could force a proud Great Yokai to seek out a lesser demon for help?
"Summon whom?" Hikaru asked.
"The half-demon of the Western Lands," Sesshomaru replied, his voice devoid of a single ripple. "Inuyasha."
The autumn wind seemed to freeze.
Hikaru stood perfectly still, but beneath the Crimson Oni Mask, his jaw locked.
Inuyasha. Dead?
[Inorin's Note:
Hey guys, hope you're enjoying the novel! A quick Power Stone, comment, or review really helps the story grow and keeps me motivated.
Hate waiting for updates and cliffhangers? You can skip the line, avoid all those annoying ads, and binge 50 chapters ahead by supporting my work here:
🌐 Read on our site: Search for Elysian Reads on Google or Check the link in my Webnovel Profile bio!
✨ Patreon (50 Advanced Chapters & Ad-Free): Search InorinTL on Patreon
Thank you so much for reading and keeping this project alive!]