Chapter 169: Descendant of Seimei
Stepping out from the shrine on the highest floor of the Tenshukaku, Kobe Hikaru crossed the threshold onto the outer veranda. The crisp night wind immediately caught his sleeves, tossing his long, pale hair into a chaotic dance. He did not move to leave, merely standing in the deep shadows beneath the eaves, letting the chill wash over his demonic frame.
The conversation from just moments ago continued to replay in his mind.
Taigen Sessai's request. He had not agreed to it, nor had he outright refused. Telling the dying monk that he would 'do his best' was, however, the absolute truth.
Regardless of the old monk's plotting, Imagawa Yoshimoto was currently one of his most vital collaborators. The strategic layout of the three provinces, the steady stream of offerings from Suruga, the settlement of The Twenty-three Demons, and the grand expedition of the five-thousand-man fleet—every single one of these ambitious endeavors was built squarely upon the framework of his cooperation with the Imagawa Clan.
The Imagawa Clan's foundation was vastly superior to that of the Hojo Clan. While the Hojo offered him the official status of a legitimate god and dominion over Musashi Province, the Imagawa provided tangible, bleeding-edge resources: military strength, wealth, and the widespread reputation necessary to harvest the faith of offerings.
Walking on two legs was simply more efficient. Both were indispensable.
also, compared to the Hojo Clan, who seemed perfectly content to turtle up in their corner and merely dominate the Kanto region, Hikaru vastly preferred the Imagawa Clan's aggressive reach. His enemies, after all, were not confined to Kanto.
If Yoshimoto were to die prematurely, the loss to his own progression would be severe.
And Okehazama... exactly how long was it until that fateful battle?
Based on the historical knowledge he retained from before his transmigration, the Battle of Okehazama was slated for 1560 AD. He wasn't entirely certain of the exact current year, but the political climate suggested he still had a decent buffer of time.
That buffer should be more than enough for him to grind his strength and favorability to a level where he wouldn't need to fear the vast majority of human armies. When that time came, lending Yoshimoto a helping hand to crush a sudden ambush would be a trivial effort.
The absolute prerequisite, of course, was that it didn't endanger him.
If that day arrived and he found himself staring down a catastrophic threat—whether it be Hagoromo Gitsune, Muzan, or some other nightmare lurking in the dark—he would instantly focus on his own survival and Kikyo's safety over any alliance.
Taigen Sessai had clearly understood this pragmatic boundary. When the old monk had finally said 'enough', there had been no lingering expectation in his cloudy eyes, only a deep, settling calmness. It was the distinct tranquility of a man who had accepted his impending death.
As for the concept of changing history... to be perfectly honest, Hikaru had been shattering the historical timeline since the very first day he opened his eyes in this world.
Although the early succession of Uesugi Kenshin hadn't entirely derailed the general trend of the era, the finer details were already warped beyond recognition. The permanent death of Inuyasha was the most glaring proof of that. The butterfly effect was a storm raging around him; every step his geta took crushed the original trajectory of this world into dust.
Would Okehazama still happen exactly as history dictated? Was Oda Nobunaga even still alive and kicking over in Owari?
He didn't know.
More, he didn't care.
Hesitation and anxiety over a timeline he had already broken would only dull the unbridled, ruthless edge required of a demon. Those were problems for the future.
Right now—
Hikaru's train of thought snapped shut.
It wasn't a matter of 'right now,'but rather'right below'. Several floors beneath the Tenshukaku balcony where he stood, radiating from the direction of the main audience hall, a distinct surge of energy was fluctuating.
Spiritual power.
It was faint, muffled by the thick wooden floors and tatami mats, but undeniably distinct to his heightened senses.
It was fundamentally different from Kikyo's spiritual power. Hers was like a bottomless, ancient pool—remote, tranquil, and overwhelmingly vast, a sensation he had grown so intimately familiar with that it felt like an extension of his own instincts.
It was also entirely different from the ambient spiritual power he occasionally sensed through the Spirit Vision and Spiritual Perception talents he bestowed upon his subordinates via the Shikon Jewel.
This new spiritual power was naturally much weaker than Kikyo's. Vastly weaker.
However, it was noticeably sharper and slightly stronger than Tsubaki's.
Though the gap wasn't massive, it was significant. Tsubaki hailed from the prestigious Tahoto and was widely regarded as a once-in-a-generation genius priestess. If the owner of this new spiritual power was anywhere near her age, they were undoubtedly a monstrous prodigy in their own right.
also, the purity of this energy was absurdly high. It carried a rigid, structured sensation... akin to the careful teachings of a prestigious, orthodox sect.
Yes, that was exactly it. If Kikyo's and the other shrine maidens'spiritual power could be compared to a wild, naturally formed mountain spring, this energy was like the water of an imperial palace—having undergone countless layers of strict filtration, regulation, and ritual purification. It was almost artificially clean and aggressively disciplined.'Is this... an Onmyoji from the Kyoto Onmyo Bureau?'Only an Onmyoji, someone who wielded spiritual power similar to a priestess but relied heavily on complex'incantations' and geometric formations for conversion, would project this specific, highly-regulated aura.
Hikaru made his judgment in a fraction of a second.
He recalled the intelligence reports Hojo Ujiyasu and Imagawa Yoshimoto had shared with him recently. The Kyoto Onmyo Bureau was allegedly preparing an imperial decree, one that would grant local Daimyos the unmatched authority to independently establish their own Onmyo offices and legally exorcise demons within their borders.
On the surface, that decree was Kyoto's desperate response to the rampant, unchecked explosion of demon activity across the fractured land. It was also a politically savvy, roundabout method of delegating power, a reactionary move following Uesugi Kenshin's aggressive stunt of 'marching south in the name of demon extermination'.
But what was the true, underlying motive behind this sudden generosity from the capital?
Did it have something to do with the movements of Hagoromo Gitsune?
Or perhaps... did they catch wind of the Shikon Jewel?
A Great Yokai of apocalyptic proportions was currently coiled deep beneath the streets of Kyoto; it was statistically impossible for the Onmyo Bureau to be entirely blind to it. For them to specifically choose this chaotic timing to issue a sweeping decree and dispatch a personal envoy...
Hikaru's crimson eyes narrowed. There was no way this was a mere coincidence.
Instead of leaving, he stayed rooted to the spot. The Crimson Oni Mask silently dissolved from his face, melting into the night air as his pale, striking features vanished completely into the shadows of the eaves.
A dense, metallic scent filled the air as a razor-thin layer of blood mist seeped from beneath his feet. It permeated downward, bleeding into the ancient wooden structure of the Tenshukaku like a network of microscopic veins.
Using his own blood as a conduit for his eyes and ears, his perception bypassed the physical barriers, spreading out and sinking directly into the main hall below.
The audience hall was cavernous, the floor lined with pristine, dark-hemmed tatami mats. Two long rows of heavy iron lamp stands cast a brilliant, flickering glow across the expansive room.
Imagawa Yoshimoto sat perfectly upright in the elevated seat of honor.
She was draped in a stunning twelve-layered junihitoe kimono, carefully woven with threads of deep purple and spun gold that caught the lamplight like liquid fire. The sheer volume and weight of the layered fabric draped majestically from her shoulders, lending her sixteen-year-old figure an imposing, regal elegance that far surpassed her actual age.
Her dark brown hair was elegantly swept into a traditional bun at the back of her head, save for a few stray, silken strands that framed her face, catching the warm light. Her right hand rested gracefully on her lap, lightly gripping a closed folding fan painted with a serene motif of pines and cranes.
Her expression was a mask of absolute dignity. It was the flawless, textbook posture of a powerful provincial lord receiving an envoy from a foreign power.
Sitting directly opposite her, on the lower level of the hall, was another young woman.
She was very young, appearing perhaps a year or two younger than Yoshimoto herself.
She was dressed in the strict, traditional attire of a formal Onmyoji: a pristine white kariginu worn over a deep black hitatare. Draped over her small shoulders was a haori carefully embroidered with the sharp, geometric lines of a pentagram.
Her deep chestnut hair cascaded down to her waist, tied loosely at the ends with a simple black cord. A few unruly strands had slipped free from the knot, resting softly against the sides of her pale neck.
Her face was undeniably delicate, though it wasn't the sort of overwhelming beauty that stunned a person at first glance. Her features were small, neat, and highly symmetrical. Her nose was modest, her lips thin and pressed together, and her chin tapered to a slight point.
However, her eyes were massive.
They were so large they almost bordered on disproportionate for her small face. Her pupils were a striking, incredibly pale shade of amber, appearing almost entirely transparent under the flickering lamplight, as if someone had poured a thin layer of liquid honey over glass.
Right now, those massive amber eyes were darting around frantically. She looked at the heavy wooden ceiling beams, studied the ornate porcelain vase tucked into the far corner, and openly marveled at the sheer opulence of Yoshimoto's purple-and-gold kimono. She looked absolutely everywhere—except directly at Imagawa Yoshimoto's face.
Resting on her lap was a heavy bamboo scroll bound tightly with a vermilion cord. Hanging from that cord was a heavy bronze plaque, deeply engraved with a pentagram surrounded by complex sun-and-moon patterns.
It was the official, obvious token of the Kyoto Onmyo Bureau.
Yoshimoto silently watched the restless, wide-eyed young Onmyoji fidget before her. She slowly lifted her folding fan, tapping the solid handle twice against her knee.
"The contemporary walker of the Tsuchimikado family, belonging to the illustrious Onmyo Bureau," Yoshimoto began, her voice measured, smooth, and carrying a heavy, unhurried authority. "You traveled all the way from the capital in Kyoto to my borders in Suruga, merely to deliver an imperial decree to me?"
"Y-Yes!"
The young Onmyoji violently straightened her back, her posture snapping to attention. Her voice rang out clear and bright, though the slight tremble of nervousness was impossible to hide.
"The Lord Onmyo-no-Kami ordered me to convey the following message: The Kyoto Onmyo Bureau hereby officially authorizes the Daimyos of the various provinces to establish local Onmyo offices, and grants them the legal authority to independently handle all demon-related matters within their respective territories. This is the original, sealed decree. Please have a look, Lord Imagawa."
She hurriedly lifted the heavy bamboo scroll, offering it forward with both hands bowed respectfully.
Yoshimoto did not reach out to take it.
Instead, the handle of her fan tapped once against the tatami mat. A sharp, echoing thwack.
"What is your name?"
"Tsuchimikado Koketsu!"
The girl blurted out the answer with practiced speed, sounding exactly like a student reciting a memorized textbook under pressure.
"Daughter of the head of the Onmyo Bureau, Onmyo-no-Kami Tsuchimikado Hisamitsu! I am currently an apprentice Onmyoji of the Onmyo Bureau, officially ordered to serve as an imperial envoy to the Tokaido—"
"That is quite enough."
Yoshimoto cut her off smoothly.
With a crisp flick of her wrist, the painted folding fan unfurled, snapping open to obscure the lower half of her face. Above the painted pines and cranes, Yoshimoto's dark eyes narrowed, her gaze suddenly sharp and deeply scrutinizing.
Tsuchimikado.
The sheer political and spiritual weight of that surname within the walls of Kyoto was no less imposing than the absolute authority the Imagawa Clan held over Suruga.
The Tsuchimikado family was the undisputed ruling clan of the Onmyo Bureau. They were an illustrious, ancient bloodline of Onmyoji that traced their unbroken lineage all the way back to the legendary Abe no Seimei. To this day, they presided over the entirety of Japan's Onmyodo system. Divination, large-scale exorcism, the creation of the calendar, astronomy, and the manipulation of feng shui—every single aspect fell strictly under their absolute jurisdiction.
Throughout the entire country, only one other family—the Keikain clan—could even barely manage to compete with them, and even then, they were considered vastly inferior in terms of sheer political influence.
In this chaotic, blood-soaked era where gods, Buddhas, and demons openly coexisted and warred for supremacy, the quiet authority wielded by the Tsuchimikado family easily surpassed the military might of several prominent Daimyos combined.
And the Onmyo Bureau itself, acting as an institution directly under the command of the Kyoto Imperial Court... even though its actual enforcement power had shrunk significantly during the endless civil wars, the highly classified anti-demon techniques and advanced Onmyodo it hoarded remained vital resources. They were resources that no Daimyo, no matter how powerful their mortal armies, could afford to ignore.
After all, this was an era where demons were not myths, but a daily, visceral reality.
For such a massive, prideful institution to send a mere 'apprentice Onmyoji' to deliver an imperial decree of this magnitude...
And the direct daughter of the family head, no less.
Yoshimoto stared down at the young girl before her, noting how Koketsu couldn't even maintain a perfectly steady sitting posture without subtly shifting her weight.
Yoshimoto wasn't a fool. She knew instantly that this matter was far from simple.
"Tsuchimikado Koketsu."
Yoshimoto called out her full name again, the casual, polite tone vanishing entirely, replaced by the heavy, oppressive formality of a warlord. "I will accept the decree. But before I take it from your hands... I want to ask you something."
"P-Please, go ahead." Koketsu swallowed hard, her grip on the bamboo scroll tightening.
"The Onmyo Bureau didn't just send the daughter of their head all this way to play messenger boy and deliver a piece of bamboo, did they?"
Koketsu's massive amber eyes blinked twice in rapid succession.
A distinct flash of unnatural panic rippled through those transparent, honey-colored pupils. She quickly broke eye contact, staring hard at the tatami mat between them.
"...There is one more thing," she admitted, her bright voice dropping to a soft, hesitant murmur.
She kept her head bowed. "The Lord Onmyo-no-Kami stated that recently, within the borders of the Kanto region, there have been... highly abnormal Yao Qi reactions. Reactions that desperately need to be, um, investigated and dealt with."
Koketsu peeked up through her lashes. "He deeply hopes that Lord Imagawa will be willing to cooperate with the Onmyo Bureau's official investigation."
Abnormal Yao Qi reactions.
Those four words hung heavily in the dead air of the grand hall, lingering in the silence for three long seconds.
With a sharp snap, Imagawa Yoshimoto closed her fan.
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