Chapter 171: Who Says Tsundere is Outdated?
A long, suffocating moment passed. Then another.
Imagawa Yoshimoto clutched the fabric over her chest, her knuckles turning white as she slumped back against the velvet headrest of her seat of honor. She raised a trembling finger, pointing dead ahead at the grey-clad figure casually strolling out from the thick shadows of the wooden pillar. "Can't you be a bit more normal?!"
"Is it really that difficult to announce yourself when you enter a room?" she demanded, her voice cracking slightly, pitching an octave higher than her usual commanding tone. "This is the Tenshukaku of a provincial lord! Did you just flip in through the roof?!"
Her exquisite, porcelain face was flushed, a messy cocktail of lingering fear, acute annoyance, and sheer exasperation. For a fleeting second, the heavy mantle of the Daimyo slipped, laying bare the raw, unfiltered emotions of a sixteen-year-old girl.
Kobe Hikaru merely leaned his shoulder against the cedar pillar, his posture infuriatingly relaxed.
"I am a demon," he stated, his voice a flat, deadpan drawl. "It is perfectly normal for a demon to walk the night without saying hello. Besides, I did the exact same thing the last time I visited."
Yoshimoto's mouth opened, then snapped shut. Her grip tightened on her folding fan until the bamboo ribs groaned, dangerously close to snapping. She wanted to scream at him, to order her guards to throw him out, but the bitter realization hit her. She could not refute a single word.
This bastard was telling the absolute truth. He really was a demon. The last time he had infiltrated the Imagawa Mansion to slaughter the Thunder Beast, he had arrived in the exact same silent, ghost-like manner... and he had saved her life.
'Can't get angry. Inhale. Exhale.'
Smack. The folding fan struck her knee in a sharp, rhythmic tap.
It took the span of half a cup of tea for Yoshimoto to wrestle her erratic breathing back under control. She carefully tucked a few stray strands of dark hair behind her ears, smoothed the collar of her silk kimono, and forced the regal dignity of a provincial lord back onto her features.
Even so, the tips of her earlobes remained a bright, burning crimson. Pure frustration.
"The conversation just now," she began, her tone chilling into something far more professional, skipping the pleasantries entirely. "You heard all of it?"
"I did."
"Then what do you think?"
Hikaru pushed off the pillar and closed the distance, sitting cross-legged on the tatami mats directly opposite her. The flickering lamplight in the grand hall cast dancing, alternating shadows across his unnaturally pale face. Without his terrifying demon mask to obscure his features, his Crimson Demon Eyes were fully visible, the complex purple patterns faintly shimmering within the irises like trapped starlight.
That striking, otherworldly appearance made Yoshimoto lose her train of thought for a fraction of a second before she violently mentally shook herself, inwardly spitting in annoyance at her own lapse in focus.
Hikaru ignored her micro-expression entirely. "Tsuchimikado Koketsu," he said, repeating the name he had eavesdropped on, his tone analytical. "An apprentice Onmyoji of the Onmyo Bureau, and the daughter of the family head. On the surface, she claims to be delivering an imperial decree. Her actual objective, however, is the Shikon Jewel. You blocked her probe well."
Yoshimoto let out a soft huff, snapping her fan open with a flick of her wrist to conceal the lower half of her face. "Naturally."
The dark eyes peering over the painted paper rim held a distinct glimmer of pride. She was being praised by him. She loathed to admit it, but a warm spark of satisfaction fluttered in her chest.
"However, the Onmyo Bureau won't let the matter rest so easily," Hikaru continued, his voice remaining a flat, unbothered monotone. "Sending a mere apprentice was a calculated probe. Their true, heavier methods are likely still waiting in the wings."
"I am well aware of that." Yoshimoto snapped her fan shut, tapping the bamboo handle lightly against her knee in a steady rhythm. "The waters of the Onmyo Bureau run incredibly deep. The Tsuchimikado family has operated from the shadows for centuries. They hold far more power than what they display to the public. Those paper talismans, shikigami, and Barrier techniques are the very foundation of their livelihood. If they truly mobilize their forces, they are no less dangerous than an elite army of thousands."
She paused, her chin lifting with supreme confidence. "But they will not risk a complete falling out with me. At least, not yet. Suruga is too far from their seat of power, and my influence extends through the lands of Totomi and Mikawa. Despite our internal dissent, those territories still belong to the Imagawa Clan in name. Besides, Kyoto has its own mountain of messes to deal with."
"The Shogun, the Emperor, and the court nobles are locked in a constant, delicate balancing act against one another. They lack the capacity and the resources to extend their reach this far east. At most, they can pull a few strings from the shadows. And since they are forced to act in the dark, their power here is limited. It won't be difficult to manage."
Hikaru gave a slow nod, offering no further commentary on the Onmyoji. His mind was already turning toward a different, heavier matter.
"The petition from the Hojo Clan," he said, his crimson eyes locking onto hers. "The formal request for my Official Deity status. Where is it now?"
"It should have reached Kyoto days ago," Yoshimoto replied, her gaze sharpening. "But the imperial audit is a notoriously tedious and troublesome process." She tilted her head, studying his impassive face. "You know exactly what that woman, Hojo Ujiyasu, is plotting, don't you?"
"I know," Hikaru answered directly.
Official Deity certification. To the uneducated masses, it appeared as a grand honor, a glorious title bestowed upon a powerful being. But in reality, it was a gilded cage. A binding contract.
Hojo Ujiyasu had submitted the petition using her own name and authority as a provincial Daimyo as the absolute guarantee. This meant the legal and spiritual foundation for his so-called Official Deity status would originate entirely from the Hojo Clan. Once the certification passed the Kyoto courts, his position within the rigid Shinto system would be inextricably linked to Ujiyasu's bloodline.
If the Hojo prospered, he would prosper.
If the Hojo declined, his status as an Official Deity would be weaponized by Kyoto, used as a convenient pretext to strip him of his power and revoke his existence.
It was an invisible, suffocating chain. With a single petition document, Ujiyasu was attempting to tie her own fate and the overwhelming might of a demon to the exact same sinking ship. She gained a god to fight her battles. And she was betting everything on the assumption that Hikaru wouldn't refuse the offer.
Because he needed the title to solidify his own strength.
"That woman is cunning to the extreme," Yoshimoto sneered, her upper lip curling in undisguised disdain. "An Official Deity is vastly different from a simple Guardian Deity enshrined for local protection. It requires a treacherous balance of multiple political parties."
She leaned forward slightly, her voice dropping into a serious, lecturing tone. "Yes, your foundation in Musashi and Sagami will become rock-solid once the Shinto certification comes down. Harvesting both Fear and Faith simultaneously sounds like a wonderful path to power. But your every move will be constrained by the suffocating framework of the Shrine. The endless expectations of mortal believers, the archaic rules of Shinto, the constant, paranoid scrutiny from Kyoto... all of it will weigh down on your shoulders."
"Not to mention," she added, her eyes narrowing, "if something catastrophic happens to the Hojo, you, the Official Deity guaranteed by the Hojo Clan, will be the very first target for political and spiritual liquidation."
She spoke unhurriedly, her logic razor-sharp and flawless. This was the terrifying political intuition expected of a prodigy personally taught by the Black-Robed Prime Minister, Taigen Sessai.
Hikaru listened to her entire breakdown without interrupting. When she finished, he didn't deny a single word.
"You're right," he admitted flatly.
Her assessment was entirely accurate. The Hojo Clan's move was a grand, sweeping gamble, and Ujiyasu had indeed offered a massive amount of resources. However, just as Yoshimoto pointed out, a Daimyo of a province was always far more interested in a calculated exchange of benefits than an act of simple gratitude.
Yet, despite the trap, Hikaru's voice carried an unshakeable, quiet confidence.
"But I won't be tied down."
He rested his hand on his knee, his purple-patterned eyes glowing faintly in the dim light. "Faith is nourishment, not a shackle. Just like Fear, it is a tool to be used. It is foolish to allow oneself to be consumed by the very tool you wield. I will take the title the Hojo are handing me, but I absolutely will not build my true foundation on someone else's fragile guarantee."
He looked directly at Yoshimoto. His foundation had never been titles or shrines. It was himself. It was this Demon-Warrior Body he had possessed since transmigrating, a terrifying, evolving vessel of flesh and demonic energy that was constantly growing stronger through his own relentless grinding. He had no interest in superficial, borrowed power that would vanish the moment a piece of paper burned in Kyoto.
"The so-called Official Deity certification is, at most, the icing on the cake," Hikaru stated, his tone dry. "Even if the icing melts, the cake remains."
Yoshimoto stared at him in silence for several long seconds. The heavy tension in the room seemed to evaporate, replaced by something softer.
"...That's for the best," she finally murmured.
With a fluid motion, the folding fan turned a half-circle, the painted surface rising to hide the corners of her mouth. But the bamboo and paper couldn't hide the mysterious, inexplicable warmth dancing in her dark eyes.
Perhaps she was happy because he hadn't been completely won over by the Hojo Clan's honeyed trap.
Perhaps it was because, when he spoke of the future, he didn't boast about the Hojo's benefits, but instead frankly and openly admitted the risks right in front of her, treating her as an equal confidant.
Or perhaps it was simply because he was sitting here, in her private chambers, sharing these quiet thoughts with her.
She couldn't say for sure. Nor did she have any intention of analyzing it. Obsessing over the exact reasons behind her own feelings was the most pointless endeavor in the world; Imagawa Yoshimoto had always been this way.
The young provincial lord closed her fan with a decisive smack, set it aside on the tatami, and immediately reached into the wide sleeve of her kimono. She withdrew a piece of parchment. It wasn't a detailed military map, but rather a crude, hand-drawn sketch. Several specific locations were marked in dark ink, each accompanied by a date and a brief, cryptic note.
She slid the map across the floorboards, stopping it exactly halfway between them.
"This is for you."
Hikaru lowered his gaze. He scanned the contents marked on the rough parchment.
There were three distinct locations scattered across the rugged border between western Suruga Province and eastern Totomi Province. Beside each ink dot, the exact same keywords were written in elegant calligraphy:
Swordsmith. Volcano. Short old demon.
Hikaru's hand paused halfway to the map.
"...This is?"
"The person you've been desperately searching for lately," Yoshimoto said. Her tone carried a distinct, obvious hint of smug pride that she couldn't quite suppress. "Totosai. Among the demonic underworld, these are the most likely whereabouts of the exclusive swordsmith who once served Toga, the former Lord of the Western Lands who dominated the Kansai region for centuries."
She crossed her arms, raising an eyebrow. "You sent those little demons under your command to make a massive fuss, asking around in every corner of my territory. Did you honestly think I would be completely unaware?"
Hikaru wasn't surprised in the slightest. He had indeed ordered the Tanuki Spirit to cast a wide intelligence net throughout Suruga in hopes of tracking down Totosai's elusive whereabouts. Although his small yokai subordinates tried to be stealthy, they inevitably made noise. The Kappa had interrogated the spirits of the water systems, the Tanuki Spirit had secretly scoured the bustling human marketplaces, and the Hitotsume-kozo had even snuck into ancient temples to question the long-lived Tsukumogami.
To ordinary humans, those actions were invisible. But in the eyes of a Daimyo who controlled a vast, deeply entrenched ninja intelligence network spanning multiple provinces? It was no different from a group of toddlers loudly rummaging through her own backyard.
What actually surprised Hikaru was that this haughty young female Daimyo had not only paid attention to his clumsy search, but had actively stepped in to do the heavy lifting for him.
"These three places are the consolidated clues my elite ninjas have gathered over the past half-month," Yoshimoto continued smoothly. "Not the garbage your little demons found. Their intelligence network is far too crude. Their random, chaotic questioning ended up alerting my people almost immediately."
"So, I looked into it for you."
Her tone was breezy, casual, as if she were talking about picking up a dropped coin on the street. But Hikaru wasn't an idiot. He knew full well that mobilizing Suruga's elite ninja network to track down an ancient demon swordsmith living in seclusion near a volatile volcano was by no means a convenient task.
It required immense manpower, vast amounts of time, and a highly dangerous, large-scale exploration of treacherous mountainous terrain. Yoshimoto had done all of this for him, in secret, before he had even thought to ask for her help.
Hikaru looked up from the map, meeting her gaze. He didn't ask any unnecessary questions. He didn't need to. He simply reflected on Taigen Sessai's past request, the weight of the old monk's words echoing in his mind, and then looked back at the girl sitting before him.
"Thanks."
He reached out, picked up the map, and carefully tucked it into the folds of his grey robes.
Across from him, Yoshimoto's folding fan fluttered slightly in her grip.
"You're welcome."
She smiled, looking thoroughly, undeniably satisfied with herself.
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