Chapter 71: The Shadow in Her Dream
The night was a deep, starless ink as Kobe Hikaru moved through the mountains and forests.
He employed [Ghost Step] without pause, his form little more than a phantom—a fitting description, for he was an Oni Samurai born from death itself. His long, pale hair streamed behind him in the wind, a stark contrast to the rustling grey of his robes.
From within his clothes, the red comb in his breast pocket began to vibrate.
"Hey," Yura of the Hair's voice was a muffled, disembodied whisper. "Are you sure you want to go alone?"
"I'm not alone," Hikaru replied without looking back, his tone flat. "I have you."
Yura was momentarily speechless. Hikaru, ignoring her silence, suddenly posed a question of his own.
"What's the specific background on those four vanguards?" This was crucial information he needed before making a move.
A brief silence followed. The tiny skull carved into the comb seemed to turn, as if lost in thought. She didn't bother to hide what she knew.
"The one to the west is a Thunder Beast."
"A Thunder Beast?"
"Mm," Yura affirmed. "It's an ancient yokai, said to be a fallen descendant of a divine beast that once served the Thunder God. It commands lightning, and its speed is terrifyingly fast."
Hikaru's stride faltered for a fraction of a second. The name reminded him of the so-called Thunder Beast brothers from the old stories… could there be a connection? Besides, it was to the west—the territory of the Imagawa Clan. That was the domain of the daimyo currently at war with the Hojo.
"Continue."
"To the north is the Venomous Jiao," Yura's voice was laced with disgust. "An old serpent that has cultivated its spirit form. Its entire body is a vessel of potent poison, so toxic it can corrode the very air. It's hiding within the Hojo Clan's lands. I've heard it has already wiped out several villages."
Hikaru nodded grimly. These two vanguards were positioned on opposite sides of the battlefield, a pincer of demonic power.
"And the south?"
"That one is a yokai named Gakimaru." Yura's voice dropped even lower. "A giant moth yokai. It can release scales that bewilder the human heart. They say anyone touched by its scales will fall into an eternal nightmare, never to awaken."
"And the last one? To the east?"
"A Nekomata," Yura spat the word out like a curse.
The name stirred a flicker of recognition in Hikaru's memory. A yokai from Japanese legend, born when an old cat lives long enough to attain a spirit form. Its tail splits in two, giving it its name. It was said they could control the corpses of the dead, making them move like grotesque puppets.
"Of these four," Hikaru asked, "which is the strongest?"
"There is no 'strongest,' but for me, the most troublesome is the Thunder Beast," Yura answered without hesitation. "While I'm no match for the others, I'd have no problem escaping them. But the Thunder Beast is different. Its speed is just too much. So fast that not even my hair can get away."
Hikaru's eyes narrowed. A speed-type yokai. That was certainly a complication.
"Then we'll start with it."
He abruptly changed direction, his form blurring as he dashed toward the west. He was going to find it—and then, he was going to eliminate it. To defeat the strong while he was still weak… it wasn't impossible. As long as he planned ahead, his current abilities, which already surpassed a normal Six Transformations warrior, gave him a fighting chance.
Meanwhile, in Suruga Province, within the main keep of the Imagawa Clan.
Imagawa Yoshimoto knelt on the main seat of the grand hall, her gaze sweeping over the dozen or so mages assembled before her. They were a motley crew in varied attire; some wore the robes of Onmyoji, others the vestments of monks, and a few the garb of shrine maidens. All of them were experts, summoned by the Imagawa Clan at great expense.
"So," Yoshimoto's voice was a study in control, yet a suppressed fury simmered just beneath the surface. "You have investigated for three days, and the conclusion you have finally reached is simply… you don't know?"
The mages exchanged uneasy glances. Their leader, an old man with a white beard and the formal attire of an Onmyoji, stepped forward. It was said he was once part of the Onmyoryo in Kyoto but had been demoted, forced to serve a regional daimyo.
"Reporting to our lady…" the old man began, wiping a bead of sweat from his brow. "That lightning was indeed not a normal celestial phenomenon. It contained a dense Yao Qi."
"But as for what kind of yokai it is, we…"
"Cannot find out. Is that it?" Yoshimoto cut him off, her tone sharp as glass.
"Yes," the old man lowered his head. "The creature comes and goes without a trace, never revealing its form. We set up a barrier, but it seems to be able to travel underground, rendering our efforts completely useless."
Yoshimoto's fingers tapped a quiet, rhythmic beat on the armrest of her seat. Traveling underground, appearing and disappearing without a trace, and always accompanied by lightning.
"Do you have no other methods?"
"This…" The old man hesitated, then finally spoke, his voice strained. "If you could invite stronger mages… perhaps one of the great Onmyoji from the Kyoto Onmyoryo…"
A cold sneer touched Yoshimoto's lips. "Kyoto? I am in the midst of a war with the Hojo Clan. Where would I find the time to send for someone from Kyoto? By the time they arrived, this city would already be a field of ash. If Master Taigen Sessai hadn't been called away, why would I ever need useless people like you?"
The old man buried his head even lower, his shoulders trembling. The other mages fell deathly silent, not daring to utter a single word of protest. The name Taigen Sessai alone was enough to command their fearful silence.
A heavy quiet settled over the great hall.
Imagawa Yoshimoto closed her eyes, rubbing her temples. She hadn't slept well for days. Every night, the same dream plagued her.
In the dream, lightning raged and the city burned. But amidst the chaos, there was another figure. A lone warrior standing tall against the storm of electricity.
Pale, long hair. Crimson eyes.
Wielding a longsword, he cut through the very bolts of lightning that fell from the sky.
If only she could find that man… but she had so little to go on. How could she possibly find a figure from a dream? Yoshimoto felt a wave of helplessness wash over her. She knew she couldn't allow this to continue.
"You may all leave," she commanded, waving a long sleeve. Her beautiful face, framed by her black hair, was an icy mask. "Continue to monitor the movements of that lightning. If there is any unusual activity, report it to me immediately."
"Yes, my lady."
The mages scurried away as if granted amnesty.
Silence returned to the hall. Imagawa Yoshimoto rose and walked toward the inner chambers. That was her private space. It was also the place where she kept her most treasured sword.
Souza Samonji.
It was a famed blade, passed down through generations of the Imagawa Clan. Legend said it had once been the personal sword of an Ashikaga Shogun before falling into the hands of an Imagawa ancestor who shared blood ties with the shogunate. It had been the pride of her clan for generations and was her most precious possession.
She pushed open the shoji screen to the inner room.
And then—she froze.
There was someone in the room.
A figure stood before the sword rack, their back to her. Grey robes, pale long hair gleaming coldly in the flickering candlelight. The stranger was facing the Souza Samonji, muttering something under his breath.
"...How many years have you been here?"
"Are you bored?"
"Does your master talk to you?"
"Probably not. Most of them don't understand."
Imagawa Yoshimoto was stunned. This person… was he talking to a sword? And in such a casual, conversational tone?
She opened her mouth, a cry for the guards forming on her lips.
But the figure turned his head first. Crimson eyes met hers.
His face was pale, his features handsome and sharp. He looked young, yet carried an air of cold, hard experience that belied his appearance.
"Oh," the stranger spoke, his tone utterly nonchalant. "Are you the owner of this place?"
Yoshimoto's hand was already pressed against the hilt of the short sword at her waist, though she knew it was a futile gesture. An intruder who could sneak into the heart of her keep without a sound was not someone she could possibly handle.
"Who are you?" she demanded, her voice surprisingly steady.
"Not human," the man replied, shaking his head slightly. "I am a yokai."
He turned fully away from the sword rack to face her. Those inhuman eyes stared directly at her, and a faint, unsettling smile touched his lips, appearing almost eerie in the wavering candlelight.
Yet, Imagawa Yoshimoto was not afraid.
Instead, she was utterly transfixed.
Because this figure, this posture, this man… he was the one from her dream.
The pale, long hair. The crimson eyes. The warrior who danced with a longsword amidst the lightning.
"Who… are you…?" she whispered.
"Kobe Hikaru," the demon stated his name. "I have come to help you resolve that 'Thunder' in your castle."
"However—" His gaze shifted, falling upon the Souza Samonji resting on its rack.
"Your castle, and this sword, must be lent to me for a time."
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