Chapter 79: Weaving a Cage Again in the Dream, Quickly Killing Gakimaru
Within the dream, there was only fire.
Boundless, devouring flames.
A young girl's figure stood upon a pile of rubble, watching her own castle burn to ash. She wore a deep purple kosode, her long black hair spilling over her shoulders, stained with dust and blood. In the flickering firelight, her petite frame seemed exceptionally frail, and her exquisite, somewhat melancholic face was a mask of pure despair.
Hojo Ujiyasu.
The third head of the Hojo Clan, feared and respected as the 'Lion of Sagami.' Though she was a woman, her cunning was known throughout the land.
Unlike Imagawa Yoshimoto, however, she held no grand ambition to unify the world. Her only desire was to become the undisputed master of the Kanto region, and to achieve that, she would use any means necessary.
It was said she possessed an almost perverse fondness for defending castles; that standing upon the walls and watching her enemies starve and freeze brought her a heartfelt, vicious pleasure.
It was said she was the most unreliable of allies; that when allied forces were routing an enemy, she might suddenly plunge a dagger into their backs.
It was said she only fought battles she was certain to win, abandoning any campaign that carried the slightest risk without a moment's hesitation.
But at this moment—
"No..." she murmured, her voice a broken whisper. Before her, the city burned. Her people died.
And she could do nothing.
This was her deepest, most absolute fear. It wasn't defeat, nor was it death. It was the powerlessness of watching everything she had sworn to protect turn to nothing, utterly unable to stop it. The one thing Hojo Ujiyasu prided herself on above all else was the impregnability of Odawara Castle.
And now, that very castle was collapsing before her eyes.
"Odawara Castle... my city..."
She sank to her knees, her hands digging into the hot ash. The flames roared ever brighter, and waves of heat washed over her face, scorching her skin with a pain that felt terrifyingly real. It did not feel like a dream.
"Damn it..." she gritted her teeth.
Hojo Ujiyasu was no ordinary woman. A corner of her mind, cold and sharp, knew this was an illusion—a yokai's trick. But she couldn't break free. Those shimmering golden scales had woven themselves into her consciousness like chains, trapping her, forcing her to experience this despair again and again in an infinite loop of nightmare.
"My Lord—!"
Screams tore through the air beside her. Her vassals fell one by one, swallowed by fire and buried beneath the ruins. She wanted to save them, but her body refused to move, as if pinned to the very ground by an unseen force.
'If that damned Takeda woman saw me like this...'
Takeda Shingen—the Tiger of Kai, whose birth name was Takeda Harunobu—was her nominal ally but her truest arch-rival. If Shingen were to see her in such a pathetic state...
"Absolutely not."
Hojo Ujiyasu clenched her jaw. She tried to force herself to stand, but her legs felt as heavy as lead.
Just then—
"So this is it..." An unfamiliar voice cut through the roar of the flames. "...the thing you fear most?"
Ujiyasu's head snapped up.
A figure was walking toward her, emerging from the inferno. He wore simple grey robes, his long hair a pale, ghostly white. In the searing light of the fire, his face was so pale it was almost sickly, his features handsome but cold, carrying an indescribable chill.
But it was his eyes that were most striking.
They were crimson. The eyes of something not human.
"Who are you...?" Ujiyasu's voice was laced with caution.
"Just passing through," the figure stated simply. "Came to save you."
"Save me?" A sneer touched Ujiyasu's lips, her disbelief plain. "Saying something like that inside my own dream? Why not just claim to be an immortal descended from the heavens while you're at it?"
The figure seemed to contemplate this for a moment. "Close enough," he said. "Though I'm not an immortal. I'm a ghost."
Hojo Ujiyasu stared, momentarily stunned. Was this man... serious?
"My name is Hikaru," the figure continued. "I just came from the Imagawa clan's territory. Killed a thunder beast along the way. Now, I've come to kill the moth that's trapped you all."
Ujiyasu's expression shifted.
The Imagawa clan. A thunder beast. Imagawa Yoshimoto, that woman she bickered with so often. Over the past few days, she had indeed heard rumors—that the Imagawa had been attacked by yokai, that lightning had run rampant through their city, leaving the people in a state of panic. She had mocked Yoshimoto for it at the time, never expecting to fall into a similar trap herself tonight.
And now, it seemed... the Imagawa had actually 'escaped'?
"You..."
"Enough talk," Hikaru interrupted her. "Do you want to wake up?"
Hojo Ujiyasu looked at him, at those crimson eyes that seemed exceptionally piercing in the firelight.
"Of course I do," she said, the words escaping before she could stop them. It was impossible to lie.
"Then get ready." The corner of Hikaru's mouth curled into a faint, chilling smile. "It's going to get a little loud."
With those words, he raised his hand.
A single, deep purple horn materialized in his palm. It was the horn of the thunder beast, the very core of its lightning power.
Hojo Ujiyasu's pupils contracted. She could feel it. The power contained within that horn was violent and blazing, like a thunderbolt poised to tear everything apart.
And then, thunder erupted from it.
Not in the dream, but in reality.
In that instant, Hikaru's consciousness snapped back to his body. He stood in the main keep of Odawara Castle, holding the thunder horn high above his head.
Around him, the entire hall was filled with countless, shimmering black threads.
Yura of the Hair's hair.
It was just like back in the Imagawa's city. Blood mist as the medium, hair as the conductor. And once again, the thunder horn served as the source of power.
"Let's see where you're hiding," Hikaru said in a low voice.
A torrent of raw lightning erupted from the horn, surging into the black threads and spreading in every direction. Brilliant blue-white arcs of electricity leaped between the strands, bathing the entire castle keep in a strobing, unholy light. The golden scales floating in the air began to incinerate under the electrical assault.
A cacophony of crackling sounds filled the hall, rising and falling like a barrage of fireworks.
Or perhaps, like the howls of a yokai being exorcised.
The sound was as loud as a thunderclap, traveling from the physical world along the countless threads and into Hojo Ujiyasu's dream. Her nightmare world began to shake violently, and the dreams of countless others throughout the city wavered in unison.
Though they had not yet woken, their dreamscape was being torn apart from the outside in and the inside out.
Dreams were, in essence, a form of electricity. It stood to reason that a more powerful current could rip them open and shred them to pieces. This was precisely why Hikaru had entered the dream in the first place. He hadn't entered just Hojo Ujiyasu's dream, but the collective dream of everyone in the city. He needed to shatter the illusion while ensuring no one was harmed and no lingering resentment remained. For that, this was the most suitable method.
"Screeech—!!"
A sharp, piercing cry suddenly echoed from above.
Hikaru turned his head, his gaze sweeping upward.
He finally saw it.
A giant moth had materialized in the vast night sky. Its golden wings, spanning nearly a hundred feet, were covered in eerie, eye-like patterns. Under the moonlight, those patterns shimmered with a demonic light, as if countless malevolent eyes were staring down at the mortal world.
Gakimaru.
With its dreamscape shattered, it had finally been forced out of hiding. Without a moment's hesitation, it tried to flee.
"Why do you think I wasted time entering the dream to lure you out?" Hikaru smiled. "It was to set this trap for you."
The black hairs were not confined to the main keep. They had already spread throughout the entire city, stretching far beyond the walls, covering every possible escape route Gakimaru might take.
"Yura of the Hair," Hikaru called out.
"Got it!" a voice replied from his chest, and in the same instant, the web of hair pulled taut.
Like countless grasping hands, they seized Gakimaru in the sky, wrapping around its wings, its antennae, its abdomen.
"Roar—!"
Gakimaru struggled frantically, gushing golden scales in a desperate torrent, but they were burned to ash by the clinging lightning the moment they appeared. The thunder followed the hair, pouring directly into the demon's body.
"Screeech—!!" Gakimaru shrieked in agony.
In the next moment, Hikaru had already leaped into the air, appearing directly before it.
Muramasa was unsheathed, the blade flashing like a strip of silver silk in the night.
"Your abilities are troublesome," he said calmly, "but your body is far weaker than the Thunder Beast's."
Every profession has its specialty; this held true even for demons. Gakimaru was, at its core, a demon transformed from a moth. Its physical constitution could hardly be called strong. As long as its scales were countered, as long as the Thunder Beast's lightning—a power by no means inferior to its own essence—was used to scorch its mental illusions, the rest was no longer a problem.
This wasn't Hikaru fighting alone. He was borrowing power. He was borrowing the power of the Thunder Beast, even after its death. This was a feat only he, with his favorability system, could accomplish. As long as he held even a sliver of favorability with an item, the 'dead object' in his hand would cooperate with his actions—at the very least, it would not resist his control.
And so, with a final, clean strike, Gakimaru's head flew from its body.
Golden scales exploded in the air, a belated firework display against the dark sky.
Then, just as quickly, they winked out.
Down below, in the castle and the city beyond, countless sleeping people opened their eyes at the exact same time.
The nightmare was over.
In the tenshukaku of the main bailey, Hojo Ujiyasu sat bolt upright on her tatami mat, gasping for breath. Cold sweat soaked her robes, and her long hair clung messily to her face.
She'd had a dream.
Or was it a 'dream'?
Outside her window, the last vestiges of thunder fell away. In the vast, dissipating blood mist, a figure seemed to stand on high.
Like a god. Like a demon.
Or perhaps, like an Oni of the Myriad Phenomena.
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