Chapter 244: Kikyo's Aura as the Righteous Wife
Several days later.
Owari Province, Kiyosu Castle.
Morning breeze swept across the expansive square in front of the Tenshukaku, snapping the newly raised banners sharply in the air.
Imagawa Yoshimoto's army had fully secured their takeover of Owari. They had also accepted the formal oath of allegiance from the Saito Clan of Mino Province. The Takeda Clan, who had attempted to capitalize on the chaos, had quietly retreated following the catastrophic incident at Mount Hakurei, their opportunistic ambitions thoroughly crushed.
Nine thousand troops forming the main force of the Imagawa Clan now occupied the grounds inside and outside the fortress. Layer upon layer of defenses, ranging from spear-wielding ashigaru to fully armored mounted samurai, patrolled the perimeter. The castle's three main storehouses were packed to the brim with freshly secured provisions and military supplies.
Yoshimoto stood on the highest corridor of the Tenshukaku. She had discarded her battle attire, changing back into a pristine, deeply traditional Junihitoe kimono. The fabric was a rich, deep purple threaded with spun gold, layered carefully to project absolute authority. Her ornate hairpins were perfectly positioned, and a painted folding fan rested lightly in her grasp.
She had fully reclaimed the overwhelming dignity expected of a ruler governing three provinces—no, a ruler who now commanded five.
Down in the courtyard below, Oda Nobuna sat slumped against the rough stone base of the castle wall. Her blonde hair was tied up into a messy, haphazard ponytail using a torn strip of rag. Stained bandages wrapped tightly around her bare feet. Her golden, vertical pupils remained fixed on the Imagawa crest fluttering high overhead.
Her expression hovered dangerously between the disgust of having swallowed a fly and the violent urge to set the entire castle ablaze.
However, what Nobuna remained completely oblivious to was a quiet, insidious truth: several of her most trusted 'divine artifacts' had already undergone a subtle change of heart.
Shibata Katsuie stood a short distance behind her, leaning heavily against the thick haft of her giant axe. Her amber eyes drifted toward the clouds, deliberately pretending not to notice her lord grinding her teeth in frustration. Katsuie's favorability was steadily climbing, having just ticked over to 53 points. As long as she remained within the passive sphere of influence radiating from Kobe Hikaru, the invisible metric would continue to rise.
In a shaded corner of the wall, Maeda Toshiie squatted on her haunches, loudly gnawing on a block of dry military rations. Her large, expressive eyes darted around the courtyard. While her favorability remained in the single digits, the system had officially registered her as 'unlocked'. After all, she had accepted being 'fed'.
And then there was the strategist.
Niwa Nagahide sat in a formal kneeling posture to the side. Her long hair was gathered into a neat, low bun at the nape of her neck. Her delicate, upright features displayed nothing but absolute composure. On the very day she was captured, Nagahide had taken the initiative to hand over every single ledger, military equipment map, and supply manifest belonging to Kiyosu Castle. The documents were organized with such terrifying precision that even the Imagawa Clan's strictest head steward could not find a single flaw to critique.
"Sister Mankai is so calm," Toshiie mumbled around a mouthful of dry biscuit.
Nagahide shifted her gaze slightly. "If you lose, you lose. The accounts still need to be settled clearly." She paused, her tone remaining perfectly even. "Besides, that demon god treats us reasonably well, doesn't he?"
Hearing this, the fiery light within Nobuna's golden pupils flared. Her voice dropped to a dangerous, gravelly whisper. "Lost? I haven't lost. This is only temporary."
No one offered a response.
Yet, every woman present knew she was speaking the absolute truth. For a warlord like Nobuna, submission was merely a tactical pause. The concept of a subordinate overthrowing their superior was carved directly into her bones. As long as she drew breath, as long as the karmic fire of the Demon King of the Sixth Heaven continued to smolder in her chest, she would never truly bow her head.
Yoshimoto, who was currently descending the long wooden staircase from the Tenshukaku, cared nothing for the blonde warlord's defiance.
She had Hikaru. That was all the use she required.
Hikaru, who understood the exact nature of the tension in the courtyard, stood near the edge of the plaza. He leaned casually against the thick trunk of an ancient pine tree, the three blades secured at his waist resting silently against his hip.
He observed Nobuna not as a threat, but as a walking cornucopia.
A treasure trove. Or, more accurately, a 'Gu'.
He intended to raise her like a venomous Gu insect. He would allow Nobuna to do exactly what she excelled at: conquer, plunder, and use the unique characteristics of the Demon King of the Sixth Heaven to devour the guardian spirits of her defeated enemies. The more she killed, the stronger she would grow.
Once she had been fattened up sufficiently, he would simply extract the condensed guardian spirit from her.
After merging the Twelve Transformations, Hikaru had confirmed a crucial mechanic: absorbing external guardian spirits directly strengthened his own transformed states. It would not just enhance the Vajra, Leopard Tail, and Heavenly Eye. If he allowed Nobuna to gorge herself on the battlefield... his 'Mara Transformation' would evolve into something terrifying.
Neither living nor dead. A Mara existing perfectly between human and oni.
As for the Divine Artifacts currently under her command, Hikaru didn't even need to forcefully seize them. He merely had to ensure they remained integrated within Yoshimoto's army, nominally operating under his overarching command. By maintaining the technicality of 'driving' them, he would continuously harvest their favorability and unlock their latent talents.
This, too, was an absolute victory.
Nobuna, entirely unaware that she was being carefully cultivated as a metaphysical breeding ground, only felt a sudden chill. She glared at the yokai across the courtyard, finding his unblinking stare deeply unsettling.
"What are you looking at?" Nobuna snapped, baring her teeth.
Hikaru calmly averted his gaze, completely ignoring the outburst.
Footsteps clicked against the stone as Yoshimoto approached him. Her deep purple kimono caught the morning sunlight, the gold threads gleaming with exceptional luxury. The heavy, layered robes accentuated her petite, slender frame. As she walked, the neckline shifted slightly, revealing the smooth, elegant curve of her collarbone.
She snapped her folding fan open, using it to elegantly conceal the lower half of her face. Only her eyes remained visible, shining with an intense, almost overwhelming brightness.
She knew Hikaru was leaving today.
The crisis threatening her lands had been resolved, the disaster at Mount Hakurei had concluded perfectly, and it was naturally time for the Oni Samurai to return home. He had only lingered these past few days to confirm a few logistical details. With those matters settled, his departure was imminent.
"Next—"
Yoshimoto snapped her folding fan shut and squared her shoulders, facing Hikaru directly. Her tone shifted dramatically. The heavy dignity of a provincial lord vanished, replaced by the earnest, raw determination of a young girl.
"Wait for me to march on Kyoto!"
She declared it with absolute conviction. "From Owari to the west, cutting through Ise, pushing into Omi, and then finally, Kyoto!" She thrust her closed fan toward the western horizon. "When I breach the capital, your shrine will no longer be just the guardian deity of a few eastern provinces. You will be enshrined as the guardian deity of the entire realm!"
Crouched behind a nearby supply wagon, Matsudaira Motoyasu paused mid-page in her account book. Her eyes blinked rapidly behind her round-rimmed glasses. She desperately wanted to point out that conquering the capital would not be remotely that simple, but seeing the blazing confidence on her lord's face, she wisely kept her mouth shut.
Hikaru looked down at Yoshimoto.
The young daimyo stood on the stone steps, the morning light spilling over her shoulders, tracing the silhouette of her purple and silver kimono with a pale golden halo. The breeze caught her loose hair, exposing the slender line of her neck. Her chest rose and fell rapidly beneath the thick silk, betraying her nervous anticipation.
She was waiting for his response.
"Mm. Good luck."
Having delivered those three deadpan words, Hikaru turned around to leave.
Yoshimoto's expression shattered.
"Th-that's it?" she stammered, her regal composure evaporating. She scrambled up two steps in pursuit, her straw sandals clacking loudly against the stone.
"Got it. I'll wait for your good news," Hikaru replied, not bothering to look back.
From the opposite side of the plaza, Kikyo approached. She had been waiting quietly within visual range. Her longbow was slung securely across her back, and her traditional white kosode and red hakama looked blindingly pure in the morning light.
"It's time to go home."
Kikyo delivered those five words as she glided past Hikaru, her pacing perfectly measured, neither rushing nor lingering.
Yoshimoto gritted her teeth, her frustration boiling over. She sprinted forward, circling around to block Hikaru's path.
She stopped so abruptly that the heavy hem of her kimono flared out around her ankles. She clutched her folding fan against her chest with both hands. Her lips parted, struggling to form the words. A deep flush was already creeping up her neck and spreading across her cheeks.
"...The thing from before," she whispered. Her voice was so quiet that only Hikaru and Kikyo—who had paused less than three steps away—could hear it. "You said... you wouldn't give up."
"Then—"
She tilted her head up, her bright eyes swimming with a mixture of stubborn unwillingness and desperate anticipation. She shifted her stance, raising her chin slightly and letting her eyelids flutter half-closed. She was blatantly positioning herself for a kiss.
For the past few days, watching Hikaru remain glued to Kikyo's side had driven her mad with envy. The Oni Samurai had looked entirely too satisfied, and Yoshimoto refused to be left out.
Then, she felt a shift in the air. She opened her eyes and locked gazes with Kikyo.
The shrine maiden's dark eyes were cold, calm, and unfathomable as a deep mountain pool. There was no overt threat. No leaking killing intent. She was simply looking at her.
Yoshimoto's eyes widened to the size of saucers. She instantly recoiled, her head snapping back as she stumbled away, nearly tripping over her own elaborate hem.
"I, I didn't—no—that—"
Her voice fractured into panicked squeaks. Her courage evaporated in a single second.
The absolute faintest ghost of a smile touched the corners of Kikyo's mouth. The shrine maiden turned away and resumed her composed walk toward the castle gates.
She left behind only one quiet instruction. "I'll wait for you up ahead."
Yoshimoto stared blankly at Kikyo's retreating back, then slowly turned her gaze back to Hikaru.
Hikaru looked down at the trembling daimyo. Her lips were still quivering from the sheer embarrassment of her failed advance.
The Oni Samurai let out a soft sigh and closed the distance between them.
Yoshimoto's eyes instantly lit up with renewed hope. He stepped closer. And closer.
He raised his hand—and planted it firmly on the top of her head, ruffling her hair twice.
"March on Kyoto properly. Don't die on the road."
Yoshimoto froze. "..."
Her bright eyes immediately clouded over with intense dissatisfaction. But his hand was warm. It was genuine body heat, radiating from his palm, sinking through her dark hair, and seeping into her scalp.
She stood perfectly still for two seconds. Then, she lowered her head, her voice muffled. "...Got it."
Hikaru withdrew his hand and shifted his weight to turn away. Just as Yoshimoto felt the crushing weight of disappointment settle in her chest, the Oni Samurai suddenly leaned down and pressed a brief, shallow kiss to her lips.
Yoshimoto stood completely paralyzed, her mind short-circuiting.
Before she could recover, Hikaru was already walking away. His gray robes snapped lightly in the wind, the twin swords at his waist clinking with a rhythmic, metallic chime.
It wasn't that he lacked affection for the young daimyo. He simply hadn't made a serious move on her over the past few days because the timing was wrong. Now was not the moment to 'devour' her. He needed to wait until she successfully marched on Kyoto and seized the authority of the realm—or at least until her momentum peaked and she condensed her own Guardian Spirit.
Hikaru's instincts told him that waiting would yield the greatest benefits for them both.
After twenty paces, he caught up with Kikyo at the corner of the outer wall. They fell into step beside each other.
Kikyo turned her head slightly. Her dark eyes lingered on his lips for exactly half a second.
"You kissed her," she stated.
"I did," he admitted freely.
Kikyo's tone remained perfectly indifferent, yet the words carried an obvious weight. "After we return, with me... hmm. Before that, you need to 'wipe' it clean."
"...Fine."
Their figures gradually disappeared down the winding path, leaving the fortress behind.
Back on the stone steps, Yoshimoto stood motionless, watching the gray and white-red silhouettes fade into the distance side by side.
The morning breeze carried Kikyo's final sentence back to her ears.
After going back, it must be wiped clean.
Yoshimoto's face flushed red with indignation. She stomped her foot. "Wipe what wipe..."
Halfway through her furious muttering, she noticed a pair of round, rolling eyes peering at her from behind a thick account book. Motoyasu had popped her head up from behind the supply wagon.
Yoshimoto snapped her mouth shut. Motoyasu instantly ducked back into hiding.
The young provincial lord repeatedly slapped her folding fan against her open palm, her breathing ragged.
"Damn it," she whispered, her voice trembling with renewed determination. "When I successfully march on Kyoto... I will definitely devour you, Kobe Hikaru!"
Thus it is said, human desire knows no bounds.
That day, late into the night.
Deep within the remote, moonlit mountains.
A towering, magnificent palace stood hidden in the deepest reaches of Mount Fuji in Suruga Province, protected by towering jade walls that resembled a celestial fortress. Deep within the heart of this ethereal sanctuary, a stunningly beautiful figure holding a flawless, bright mirror suddenly opened her eyes.
"Mount Hakurei has disappeared..."
Her voice echoed softly through the empty halls. "The Turbid Qi between heaven and earth is rising."
She tilted her head, gazing into the depths of the mirror. "What happened to that Master Hakushin... Has he finally attained Buddhahood? Or... who managed to defeat him?"
Her grip on the mirror tightened slightly. "No, I must investigate this clearly... And then, I must locate 'my' Heavenly Garment as soon as possible."
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