Chapter 157: Sesshomaru Returns Empty-Handed
A moment later, Inuyasha departed.
It took Kobe Hikaru roughly the time needed to finish a single cup of hot tea to 'persuade' the former half-demon—now a fully resurrected human—to vacate the premises.
The entire process was far from complicated.
Inuyasha possessed a remarkably straightforward disposition. Though his temper flared with the slightest provocation, his underlying nature lacked any real complexity. In fact, he was so simple-minded that one might accurately describe him as a bit slow on the uptake. As long as someone smoothed down his metaphorical fur, validated his simmering frustrations, and gently pointed him toward a path he subconsciously desired anyway, he would follow it without much resistance.
Hikaru offered no lies.
He merely laid out the cold, hard facts, stacking them like stones before the boy.
First, Sesshomaru had coveted the Tessaiga for years. The dog demon had just taken the black pearl directly into the underworld. Whether the older brother successfully retrieved the blade or not, the very first obstacle Inuyasha would face upon his return was Sesshomaru's wrath.
Second, Inuyasha was now entirely human. His body harbored absolutely zero Yao Qi. He possessed no means to defend himself against a Great Yokai. Granted, even with his demonic energy intact, he still wouldn't stand a chance against Sesshomaru. However, lingering on this hillside to await his brother's emergence guaranteed only two outcomes: being utterly ignored like a speck of dust, or being violently eradicated. The former would crush Inuyasha's pride; the latter would crush his physical body.
Third, and most crucially, he was human.
A true, thorough, and pure mortal who would no longer revert to a vulnerable state under the new moon. He could walk into any human settlement and build a life. He would no longer be squeezed between the worlds of men and monsters, forever treated as an unwanted outcast by both.
, despite losing his Yao Qi, the physical constitution he inherited from Toga remained incredibly resilient. Dispatching ordinary, low-level demons would still be a trivial matter. Securing a stable, peaceful existence was well within his grasp.
Hikaru made no attempt to conceal his own ambitions regarding the Tessaiga. He openly admitted his desire to claim the legendary blade for himself. He never claimed to be a saint. He wasn't even human, and his actions were driven by a deeply ingrained pragmatism. Whether it was handing the Shikon Jewel to Kikyo in the beginning or his subsequent maneuvers, every choice carried a heavy dose of self-interest.
Yet, he remained entirely transparent. Good was good, bad was bad, and selfishness was simply survival. He offered no defensive excuses.
He was an Oni Samurai—a greedy, self-aware undead creature operating on a very thin, albeit present, moral baseline.
Inuyasha absorbed the heavy words. His jaw tightened, and he fell into a prolonged, heavy silence, his gaze dropping to the dirt.
When he finally spoke, he asked a single question: what exactly did Hikaru intend to do with the Tessaiga once he acquired it?
Hikaru's response was characteristically dry. He intended to use the sword's immense power to increase his own strength, thereby ensuring he could maintain his current, relatively stable existence.
Inuyasha shifted his attention toward the distant, peaceful silhouette of Kaede Village. The tension in his shoulders slowly dissolved. Although the Tessaiga was a relic left behind by Toga, for a son who had never truly known his father, it wasn't an absolute necessity.
He couldn't wield it anyway, nor did he need it.
In this war-torn world where Military Momentum dictated the rise and fall of lives, he merely needed to find a bustling human city to blend into, effectively avoiding most lethal risks.
He wasn't an idiot.
Irritable and dense as he often appeared, he could process logic when it was laid out so plainly. He was simply too lazy to overthink things on a normal day, often requiring extra time to digest complex situations.
Finally, he pushed himself up from the ground.
His white robes were stained with dried blood and thick layers of dust. His black hair cascaded loosely over his shoulders. Deep brown eyes locked onto the undead samurai.
"What is your name?"
"Kobe Hikaru."
"I'll remember it."
Inuyasha pivoted on his heel, heading toward the southern mountain path leading far away from Kaede Village. His footsteps faltered slightly—his newly human body still recovering from the shock of resurrection—but his stride carried a newfound weight.
He had never walked quite like this before. His bare feet pressed firmly against the earth, moving with absolute certainty toward a chosen destination.
After a dozen paces, he paused and glanced over his shoulder.
"Hey, Hikaru."
"Next time we cross paths, this great me will treat you to a bowl of noodles. The kind humans are always eating in those big towns."
It was the exact meal he had secretly craved for years.
"...Alright."
Inuyasha flashed a wide grin. Stripped of his demonic traits, the expression looked exceptionally youthful, perfectly matching his black hair and warm brown eyes.
He turned back around and continued his trek without another backward glance.
He marched toward a distant human settlement, stepping into the ordinary life he had never possessed but had always desperately longed for.
This was a satisfactory outcome.
Hikaru remained anchored in place, tracking the boy's receding silhouette until it vanished beyond the tree line.
In a pragmatic sense, this served as adequate compensation for scheming to take the half-demon's inheritance.
What Inuyasha ultimately desired—the acceptance and stability he would have suffered endlessly to achieve in the original timeline—Hikaru had essentially handed to him on a silver platter.
The methods were entirely different.
Hikaru's selfish motives were heavily woven into the fabric of the deal.
But the end result heavily favored Inuyasha.
Resurrected from the dead and given a clean slate, the former half-demon had no grounds for complaint, especially when faced with such blunt honesty.
This was the very definition of a win-win scenario.
Pulling his gaze away from the southern path, Hikaru leaned his armored back against a large boulder.
His vigil was far from over.
He still had to wait for Sesshomaru to emerge from the underworld.
A short distance away, Jaken squatted in the dirt. The impish demon balanced the Staff of Two Heads across his knobby knees, not daring to utter a single syllable or attempt an escape. His green, wrinkled face was a mask of pure anxiety. He darted nervous glances between the spot where the spatial rift had vanished and the imposing figure of the Oni Samurai, clearly terrified that Hikaru might suddenly decide to slaughter him out of boredom.
One hour bled into two.
The eastern horizon gradually surrendered to a pale, milky white.
The morning sun had yet to crest the hillside, leaving the dawn air biting and crisp.
Then—the fabric of space fractured.
A jagged, deep blue rift tore open at the exact coordinates of the previous portal.
Sesshomaru stepped out from the dimensional void.
Jaken let out a shrill "Wah!" and scrambled to his feet, rushing forward to greet his master.
"Lord Sesshomaru! You have returned! Did you secure the Tessaiga—?"
Sesshomaru glided right past him.
He didn't spare the small demon a single glance.
Jaken swallowed his words, completely unfazed by the blatant dismissal, looking as though he had spent a lifetime growing accustomed to being treated like empty air.
Hikaru didn't shift from his relaxed posture. He merely tilted his head up from the boulder and analyzed the Great Yokai.
His crimson eyes immediately dropped to Sesshomaru's hands.
They were entirely empty.
Faint, charred burn marks marred the pale skin of Sesshomaru's right palm and fingers. It looked as though he had grasped a branding iron. The demonic flesh was already healing at an accelerated rate, but the residual scorching had not yet faded.
Hikaru instantly deduced the outcome. Sesshomaru had failed to retrieve the Tessaiga.
It was hardly a surprise.
According to the established lore, Toga had cast an incredibly potent sealing Barrier over the blade. Only a human, or a demon possessing a heart that genuinely wished to protect humans, could draw the sword from its pedestal.
A pure-blooded demon attempting to seize the Tessaiga would be violently burned and repelled by the ward.
Sesshomaru was an apex predator—a pure-blooded Great Yokai and a natural-born powerhouse.
At this stage in his life, he viewed his own half-brother with absolute disdain, let alone harboring any desire to protect fragile mortals.
Consequently, the very millisecond his fingers brushed the Tessaiga's hilt, the Barrier had violently rejected him.
This was the exact safeguard Toga had applied when bequeathing the weapon to his half-demon younger son rather than his elite eldest. Inuyasha's human blood acted as the bypass key to that seal.
This fundamental rule was precisely why Hikaru had been so remarkably cooperative with Sesshomaru's demands from the start.
He knew with absolute certainty that the silver-haired demon would fail.
This expedition to the underworld was mathematically destined to end in empty-handed frustration.
Sesshomaru halted at the precipice of the hillside.
His long, silver-white hair caught the gentle morning breeze, drifting like spun silk. His golden, slit-pupiled eyes stared out at the brightening skyline, his aristocratic features locked in a mask of absolute calm.
Yet, beneath that placid exterior, a suffocating, bone-chilling displeasure radiated outward. Even Jaken shivered under the oppressive weight of it.
Jaken nervously babbled a quick report regarding Inuyasha's departure. Sesshomaru maintained his icy silence, offering zero reaction to the news of his brother's newfound humanity.
"Sesshomaru," Hikaru called out, his voice cutting through the crisp air.
The Great Yokai shifted his gaze, pinning the Oni Samurai with those cold, golden slits.
"If that black pearl of yours has outlived its usefulness, hand it over to me as payment for this transaction."
Hikaru didn't bother with pleasantries, immediately laying his true intentions bare.
He had never harbored any delusions of seizing the Tessaiga directly from the underworld. From the very beginning, his sole objective was acquiring this specific 'key'—the item that bridged the gap to Toga's grave.
Out of the three known methods to access the tomb, this was the only one realistically within Hikaru's grasp.
Piggybacking on Sesshomaru's quest to secure it was simply the most efficient route. Besides, targeting the Tenseiga was a fool's errand. The healing blade possessed its own spirit, one that would vehemently reject an undead creature like him. If he couldn't even physically touch the sword without being repelled, grinding its favorability system to 'conquer' it was a mathematical impossibility.
Sesshomaru studied him.
His expression remained utterly indifferent, though his eyelids lowered a fraction.
"For what purpose do you seek this?"
"For my collection," Hikaru replied smoothly. ", considering it leads to the resting place of the Western Lands' greatest Great Yokai... I would like to see if I can find a way inside."
That was all the explanation required.
Sesshomaru didn't press the issue, nor did he care enough to dissect the samurai's logic.
He had completely lost interest in the black pearl.
It was a single-use key that had already served its purpose. The rift to the underworld had opened and closed; reactivating it would require a direct infusion of the original creator's power.
It would be far less tedious to simply track down Hosenki and commission a new one.
also, there was zero tactical value in returning. He couldn't bypass the sealing Barrier, and he was absolutely certain this lowly Oni Samurai couldn't either.
To Sesshomaru, the pearl was now nothing more than worthless trash.
He genuinely doubted Hikaru could extract any value from the dead artifact. If anything, he was mildly amused by the lesser demon's blunt audacity, refusing to mask his greed.
Reaching into his pristine sleeve, Sesshomaru extracted the pitch-black bead and flicked it through the air with casual disdain.
The black pearl traced a dark arc against the fading moonlight.
Hikaru snapped his hand up, snatching it from the air.
The smooth, perfectly rounded sphere settled into his palm, radiating a lingering, unnatural chill—the residual aura of the underworld.
"This does not settle our debt," Sesshomaru stated.
His tone was flat and uncompromising.
It wasn't a polite gesture, nor was it an expression of gratitude.
He had promised that, in exchange for summoning Inuyasha, he would perform one task for Hikaru.
Inuyasha had indeed been summoned—albeit only half of his original self—but Sesshomaru didn't nitpick the details.
The resurrection had been successful.
The fact that Inuyasha returned as a pure mortal fell outside the parameters of their verbal contract. In Sesshomaru's strict worldview, tossing away a depleted pearl did not equate to fulfilling a life debt.
"Remember this favor. When you require its fulfillment, seek me out in the Western Lands."
With those final words.
Sesshomaru turned and strode away.
The massive white pelt draped over his shoulder swayed with his measured steps, his silver hair cascading down his back. His slender, elegant silhouette moved westward along the mountain ridge, his pacing unhurried yet covering ground rapidly.
Jaken scrambled wildly, snatching up the Staff of Two Heads. His stubby legs pumped furiously against the dirt as he sprinted after his master, his reedy voice echoing across the hills.
"Lord Sesshomaru! Please wait for me! Do not leave me behind—!"
The imposing figure gradually shrank in the distance.
Eventually melting into the hazy morning light illuminating the western horizon.
Hikaru remained firmly planted on the hillside, slowly raising the black pearl to eye level.
The polished, pitch-black surface of the artifact perfectly mirrored the glowing, unnatural light of his Crimson Demon Eyes.
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