Chapter 65: The Band of Seven
War.
Hikaru narrowed his eyes. He was already far too familiar with this scene.
Three months ago, when he had first arrived in this world, the place he awoke was a mountain of corpses and a sea of blood. Back then, despite being an Oni Samurai who had just cheated death, he was, in essence, a modern man. That kind of carnage had left him deeply unsettled.
Now, however, he merely frowned.
Kikyo's reaction was far stronger.
Though she walked through a world steeped in chaos, as a Miko, she primarily dealt with the exorcism of demons. Her immense power was a deterrent in itself, meaning many mortal disasters actively steered clear of her path. She had seen war, certainly, but never the wholesale slaughter of a village.
This was her first time witnessing such a scene. Such a picture of utter depravity.
"Go," she said, her voice soft but unyielding. "Let's go take a look."
She could feel an unmatched wave of resentment emanating from the valley below.
The two of them quickened their pace.
The further they descended, the thicker the scent of blood became, clinging to the air like a suffocating shroud. This wasn't the smell of one or two people; it was the coppery stench left only by the deaths of hundreds, perhaps thousands.
At the end of the mountain path, the open plain finally revealed itself in its entirety.
Hikaru's footsteps faltered for a fraction of a second.
Kikyo, too, came to a halt.
They stood side-by-side on the hillside, looking down upon the tableau below.
It was a hellscape. A true hell on earth.
The fields were no longer fields. The land that should have been lush with crops was now soaked in fresh blood, the dark soil churned into a crimson sludge.
Corpses were strewn everywhere.
They littered the landscape without distinction. There were ashigaru in their crude armor, farmers still clutching hoes, and women whose faces were frozen in masks of terror.
And children. Very small children.
Some were hacked in two, their small bodies discarded like broken dolls. Some were trampled into unrecognizable masses of flesh and bone. One had only half their body left, hanging grotesquely from the muddy ridge of a paddy field.
Hikaru looked upon it all, his expression a mask of stoicism.
But beside him, Kikyo's breathing became noticeably more hurried, each inhale sharp and pained.
"Who did this?" Her voice was cold, frighteningly so.
Hikaru didn't answer. He already had a sinking suspicion.
The further they walked into the valley of death, the more numerous the bodies became. They had died in a hundred different ways, yet all were equally miserable. Hikaru's footsteps never paused. He stepped through the shallow pools of blood, over severed limbs and shattered bodies, and continued his inexorable advance.
Until he saw the heart of this desolate purgatory.
There were still living people there.
No. There was still a battle raging.
An army clad in samurai armor was clashing with another group. This second group consisted of only seven people, yet they were systematically slaughtering the army of hundreds, forcing them back step by brutal step.
Hikaru's eyes narrowed.
Seven people.
Every single one of them possessed an extraordinary, blood-soaked aura.
Leading them was a young man with a ferocious grin, carrying a massive greatsword on his back that had to be nearly twenty feet long. Behind him followed six other figures, each a master of their own brand of carnage.
There was a giant, as burly as a small mountain, who wielded a colossal flail. Each swing sent bodies flying, crushing several men at once.
There was a bizarre figure encased entirely in iron armor, a walking arsenal whose mechanical body constantly fired a storm of hidden weapons.
There was a man with delicate, almost feminine features, who wielded a peculiar long blade that could bend and extend like a striking serpent. With a single, fluid sweep, a dozen heads would roll.
There was a short, grotesque man wreathed in a sickly green toxic mist. Soldiers who strayed too close simply choked, clutched their throats, and collapsed.
There was a bald man who looked like a warrior monk, but instead of chanting sutras, he constantly spewed torrents of flame from his mouth, incinerating his enemies into blackened charcoal.
And finally, there was a man dressed in a physician's robes, his hands fitted with wickedly sharp claws that tore through armor and flesh with equal ease.
Seven people in total.
Seven figures like gods of slaughter, moving through the terrified army as if it were an empty field.
Hikaru's gaze shifted, a flicker of recognition in his eyes.
He knew them. He knew these seven.
"The Band of Seven," he whispered the name into the blood-heavy air.
Kikyo turned to look at him, her expression sharp. "You know them?"
"I've heard of them," Hikaru replied, his voice calm, but a storm was brewing in his mind.
The Band of Seven. Characters from the original story of Inuyasha.
They were a legendary team of seven human mercenaries, active during the Sengoku period and notorious for their cruelty. They killed without regard for age or gender; as long as the price was right, they would take any job. It was said they had once slaughtered an entire castle town for a contract.
Later, according to the original plot, they were betrayed and executed by a fearful lord who had hired them. Decades later, they would be resurrected by Naraku using shards of the Shikon Jewel, becoming his powerful puppets.
Except… it shouldn't be that point in time yet. The main plot of Inuyasha wouldn't begin for another fifty years.
'So these seven… they should still be living people,'he reasoned.'They haven't been killed yet, let alone resurrected. Theoretically, they aren't as powerful as they'll be with the Shikon Jewel's influence, but they are definitely at the absolute peak of what a normal human body is capable of.'
"Who are they?" Kikyo asked again, her gaze fixed on the brutal display.
"Mercenaries," Hikaru answered succinctly. "A group of seven, known as the Band of Seven."
He continued, "They're said to be the seven most ruthless killers in the Kanto region. For money, they will kill, burn, and commit every evil imaginable."
Kikyo's gaze turned to ice. "They did this?" she asked, gesturing to the slaughtered villagers around them.
Hikaru shook his head. "I'm not sure." He looked back at the battlefield. "The Band of Seven is slaughtering an army, not civilians. As for the bodies of these villagers…" He paused. "It could have been one of the warring armies, or it could have been them. In a place like this, it's hard to tell."
Kikyo fell silent. She watched the battlefield, her brow furrowing tighter as she saw soldiers dying miserably under the mercenaries' blades.
War. This was war. There was no right or wrong, only slaughter. No justice, only death.
The Band of Seven's massacre continued. The army of hundreds had been whittled down to a few dozen desperate survivors. They tried to flee, only to find their escape routes had been sealed.
"Why are you running?" The young man with the massive greatsword—Bankotsu, the leader—flashed a wide, predatory grin. It was a shockingly bright expression on a field of death. "Since you've come all this way, you might as well stay."
He swung his greatsword. The massive weapon, Banryu, sliced through the air with a hungry, bloody whistle.
Squelch.
Another dozen heads tumbled to the ground.
"Big Brother! It's finished on this side!" the feminine man—Jakotsu—shouted to Bankotsu as he sheathed his whip-like blade.
"I'm done, too," the iron-clad Ginkotsu stated, his voice a mechanical rasp.
"Heehee… the poison is about done as well," the short Mukotsu cackled, stepping out from the dissipating toxic mist and licking his lips.
"Everyone who should be dead is dead," the fire-breathing Renkotsu announced, brushing dust from his hands.
"Phew…" The massive Kyokotsu hoisted his flail onto his shoulder and let out a great yawn.
"The doctor didn't even need to step in," Suikotsu remarked, standing to the side with his claws. His gaze was calm, almost strangely gentle.
They had slaughtered an army. Seven men had annihilated an enemy force dozens of times their number.
The time it took them? Less than fifteen minutes.
Hikaru watched this scene, not surprised in the least. This was the Band of Seven, the most feared mercenary corps of the era.
'Their strength…'he analyzed silently.'Bankotsu is roughly equivalent to a demon of the Six Transformations. To reach that level through pure physical prowess, without spiritual power, is almost unheard of among humans. The other six vary, but excluding the poison user, the weakest is at the level of the Three Transformations. As long as they aren't specifically targeted or countered by a specialist, they're more than enough to sweep through most human forces.'
"What do we do now?" Kikyo asked, her voice low.
Hikaru didn't answer immediately. He just watched those seven figures, watching them chat and laugh amongst the piles of corpses as if they were standing in a tavern.
Then—he heard their conversation drift across the blood-soaked field.
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