Chapter 176: Destined to Become a Hero of Humanity, Reforging the Demon Blade
After Myoga's words fell, the blistering air at the foot of the volcano seemed to freeze solid.
Totosai dangled in mid-air, held firmly by the collar by Kobe Hikaru. The old demon's short, stubby legs kicked at empty space a few times before giving up, hanging limply. His bulging, oversized eyes stared fixedly at the flea-sized demon perched on his own shoulder, his face scrunching into a dense mass of wrinkles.
"Are you sure?"
"Absolutely certain!"
Myoga hopped frantically, his six thread-like legs quivering. The tiny demon leaned his flat body out toward Hikaru, sniffing the air with exaggerated vigor. "Young Master Inuyasha's scent! There is no mistaking it. I followed Young Master Inuyasha for so many years, I could recognize any scent on him with my eyes closed!"
Fleas naturally possessed a terrifyingly sensitive olfactory sense. As a demon, Myoga could even smell the lingering residue of emotions left upon others.
The flea's high-pitched voice dropped, laced with deep confusion. "It is indeed gratitude. Young Master Inuyasha is deeply grateful to this demon!"
Totosai's expression shifted drastically. The sheer terror melted into deep suspicion.
He ceased his pathetic struggling. Instead, he tilted his large head, using those bulging, frog-like eyes to re-evaluate the Oni Samurai holding him aloft.
A crimson Oni mask. Pale, flowing hair. Purple patterns drifting within scarlet, demonic eyes.
The Yao Qi radiating from the youth was suffocatingly intense, not a single fraction inferior to his own centuries-old aura—perhaps even a notch sharper. He was undeniably a warrior type, exuding the heavy, blood-soaked presence of someone who had survived countless slaughters.
He carried Inuyasha's scent. Myoga would never lie about such a thing. The flea might be a notorious coward who fled at the first sign of danger, but his nose had never failed.
Yet, at the exact same time...
Totosai's nose was no ordinary tool, either.
The old blacksmith sniffed hard, his wrinkled face scrunching up so tightly his features nearly vanished.
"Then why do you also have Lord Sesshomaru's Yao Qi reeking all over you?"
Hikaru fell silent.
He really did.
During that brief transaction with Sesshomaru a few days prior, the contact time had been minimal. However, the Yao Qi of the dog clan's Great Yokai was obnoxiously concentrated. A mere passing encounter was enough to be thoroughly tainted by it, clinging to the skin and clothes like a stubborn curse.
It was the natural influence a Great Yokai exerted over the surrounding world, a phenomenal, physical residue of their very existence.
It operated exactly like being stained by an overpowering perfume. Except the concentration of this particular 'perfume' was potent enough to permanently alter the atmospheric composition of an entire region.
...Naturally, beyond the sheer logic of it, Hikaru simply wanted to complain. As expected of a dog demon.
They truly were absolute authorities on leaving their scent wherever they roamed.
"Sesshomaru asked me for a favor," Hikaru stated, his tone flat and unbothered.
Totosai's face instantly darkened.
"Aha! Just as I thought, you were sent by that Sesshomaru brat—! I knew it—"
"I wasn't sent by him."
Hikaru cut off the old man's impending urge to flee, feeling a wave of deadpan exhaustion wash over him. "I made a deal with Sesshomaru. The contents of that deal have absolutely nothing to do with you. But during that exchange... I met Inuyasha."
Totosai froze.
Myoga froze.
Both demons snapped their gazes back to the towering Oni Samurai.
Hikaru maintained his calm, unyielding grip. "I was the one who pulled Inuyasha back from a mountain of corpses."
He did not bother painting a vivid picture. He simply laid out three cold facts.
First, Inuyasha had died. He perished in the chaotic clash of the Kanto army over two months ago.
Second, Hikaru had used his own abilities to recall Inuyasha's fragmented, residual soul, allowing Sesshomaru to step in with Tenseiga, sever the chains of the underworld, and complete the resurrection.
Third—and most —after Inuyasha was resurrected, he returned as a pure human.
When those final words echoed against the volcanic rock, a suffocating silence descended upon the wasteland.
Totosai's bulging eyes threatened to pop out of their sockets entirely.
Myoga simply tipped backward, tumbling right off the blacksmith's shoulder. His six thin legs pointed rigidly toward the ash-filled sky as he did a full somersault before scrambling back upright.
"Be... became human?!"
"Yes. Too much of his demon soul had already dissipated into the ether. Even if it were forcibly recalled, he would have awakened as a mindless, rabid beast. So, in the end, only the human half returned. At the very least, he kept his sanity."
Hikaru delivered the explanation with absolute naturalness.
It was so perfectly casual that neither Totosai nor Myoga detected a single flaw.
After all, he wasn't lying. Demon souls inherently dissolved much faster than human souls. Dragging a fragmented demon soul back into a vessel would indeed result in madness, driven entirely by feral instinct. Forcing that broken half to coexist with a restored human soul would only fracture the boy's mind. This was a universally accepted truth.
"So... he is now..."
Myoga's tiny voice cracked, burdened with a dizzying mix of emotions. An unidentifiable expression squeezed onto his flat, minuscule face—a strange, poignant blend of deep sorrow and deep relief.
"Black hair, brown eyes. No dog ears, no sharp claws," Hikaru added, his scarlet eyes looking out toward the horizon. "Just like any ordinary human youth. Aside from being a bit overly energetic and loud, everything is perfectly normal. By now, he should have arrived at a prosperous settlement in Sagami Province to live out a quiet life."
He had taken a brief detour to observe the situation while passing through Sagami Province earlier. Inuyasha's current living conditions were actually quite good.
Just as Hikaru had initially calculated, the boy was physically strong and possessed a fiercely straightforward personality. While he could be irritatingly childish, in this blood-soaked, chaotic era, such a transparent nature was surprisingly magnetic—provided one had the strength to back it up.
In a world where everyone had to be ruthlessly cunning just to survive another night, people naturally gravitated toward someone who lacked that malice. They craved a straightforward protector.
As a half-demon, Inuyasha had been tragically weak and inadequate, caught between two worlds that despised him. But whether as a pure human or a pure demon, as long as he wasn't a half-baked outcast, he would never do poorly.
He had already managed to gather a loyal group of friends around him.
Though it remained a distant prospect, Hikaru harbored a quiet suspicion. Inuyasha might, in the distant future, step onto the grand stage of human history bearing a completely different legacy.
Not as a feared demon, but... as a heroic figure fighting for the side of humanity.
But that was a matter for decades to come.
Silence reigned again. A long, heavy silence.
Totosai was an ancient retainer. He had followed Toga since an era long forgotten by most. He had personally witnessed the fateful meeting between the Great Dog Demon and Izayoi, Inuyasha's gentle human mother. Naturally, he had also watched the tragic aftermath—how the newborn Inuyasha was utterly rejected by the dog demons of the Western Lands.
He had seen every ounce of suffering that half-demon boy had endured from childhood to adolescence, all because he was born neither fully human nor fully demon.
Feared by the humans he resembled. Looked down upon by the demons whose blood he shared.
Stuck in a cruel purgatory, with nowhere to ever truly call home.
And now... he had finally landed.
Even if he had landed firmly on the side of the humans, it was still a landing. He finally had solid ground beneath his feet.
"That foolish kid..."
Totosai let out a long, rattling sigh.
A wet sheen flashed across his protruding, oversized eyeballs, but he quickly blinked it away, hiding the emotion beneath the thick, fleshy wrinkles of his face.
He coughed loudly, forcing his raspy voice back to its usual grumpy cadence.
"Alright, alright, I get the picture."
He glared up at Hikaru, the defensive wariness in his posture mostly evaporating into the sulfur-scented air.
"You are not one of Sesshomaru's lackeys, and Inuyasha does indeed owe you his life. That cowardly flea Myoga's nose does not lie."
"You can put me down now."
Hikaru loosened his grip, letting the fabric slip from his fingers. Although the old demon's sudden cooperation was slightly unexpected, it was a welcome convenience. It saved him from having to deploy the more elaborate, threatening rhetoric he had prepared.
The short, elderly demon dropped to the ground, his stubby feet slapping against the scorching, hardened lava. He casually patted the soot and ash off his charred jacket, then tilted his head back to look at the Oni Samurai towering over him.
"Speak."
Totosai bent down, retrieving the massive iron forge-hammer he had dropped during his earlier panic. He hoisted it onto his shoulder. The frantic terror was entirely gone from his bulging eyes, replaced by the sharp, calculating shrewdness of a master craftsman evaluating a new client.
"What exactly do you want with me?" Totosai grunted. "If you want me to forge a demon blade or something similar, let me state the rules right now: you need to provide the materials yourself. I am only responsible for the hammering. I don't supply the iron."
Without a word, Hikaru reached down to his waist. His fingers wrapped around the hilt of his katana.
With a smooth, metallic ring, he drew Muramasa.
The exposed blade gleamed with a faint, ominous dark red light, reflecting the violent orange glow of the bubbling volcanic crater. Along the razor-sharp edge, a hair-thin crack was starkly visible.
Thick, volatile Yao Qi bled out from that tiny fissure, carrying a stifled, agonizingly pent-up heat.
The steel was humming. A low, vibrating frequency that sounded less like metal and more like a living creature crying out in pain.
Hikaru held Muramasa horizontally across his palms, his touch surprisingly gentle, and presented the suffering weapon to Totosai.
"Reforge it," Hikaru said, his deadpan voice carrying a rare trace of absolute seriousness.
"The soul of this blade is awakening... but the physical body can no longer sustain it."
"I need you to help me save this sword."
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