Even for Kenjaku, this was a first.
A cursed spirit that had already been exorcised was manifesting again, reborn from the void by centuries of accumulated human terror. If that were the case, what about Shuten Doji?
He looked up at the figure solidifying in front of him, his mind working through the variables. This current vessel was a poor choice for combat. He hadn't selected it for its physical prowess. If a fight broke out, he wouldn't just struggle against sothing like Ibaraki Doji; even a Grade 1 curse would be a problem.
He needed Kashimo. Or perhaps the Ten Shadows.
The problem was, he had no idea where Kashimo had gone.
Kenjaku sifted through his latest reports. Arashi Gojo had been killed outside Edo. It was an outco he hadn't fully expected. The Six Eyes might not have been fully matured, but he wasn't easy to kill. If Kashimo had managed it, he was significantly stronger than when they had last t.
Knowing Kashimo's temperant, the man was likely looting Edo for everything it was worth. Kenjaku's eyelid flickered as he recalled how his own wallet seed to empty whenever the man in white was around.
For the first ti in a very long while, Kenjaku felt a bead of cold sweat on his neck. It was an absurd sensation for a man who usually wore a permanent, composed smile, but the threat was real.
Ibaraki Doji was almost finished forming. Cursed energy was thickening into a dense, suffocating cloud. The hollow sockets in the spirit's face were beginning to flicker with the first traces of pupils.
Kenjaku had no easy way out. He couldn't afford to waste the cursed objects he was saving for the Culling Ga. Just as he was weighing the risks of running versus staying to gamble.
"Hey, Kenjaku."
A voice drifted down from above. It was lazy, arrogant, and laced with a touch of amusent.
"You look like you're having a rough ti."
Kenjaku looked up. In that mont, he realized it was the first ti he had ever actually been happy to hear Kashimo's voice.
Kashimo was perched on a branch of a nearby tree. The morning sun was behind him, casting him in a sharp silhouette, but the purple markings around his eyes glowed with a predatory light. On an adjacent branch stood a girl in red robes. Her hair was pulled back in a high ponytail, and she was looking down at him with a mix of curiosity and boredom.
Kenjaku's expression shifted, and then his trademark smile returned.
"Your timing is impeccable," he said. "I find myself in need of assistance."
Kenjaku stepped to the side, gesturing toward the forming curse. The air around Ibaraki Doji was already beginning to warp under the pressure of its energy.
"This is Ibaraki Doji, the demon of the Heian era," Kenjaku explained. "He's returned, though the reason remains a mystery."
He made a graceful gesture, as if inviting a guest to a dinner table. Kashimo's eye twitched.
I know I'm a sorcerer, Kashimo thought, but I'm not just a damn tool. You think I'm your personal guard?
He opened his mouth to retort, but a different voice cut him off.
"We can help."
Kashimo looked over. Fuka was standing with her arms crossed, her red eyes fixed on Kenjaku.
"But we'll need proper paynt."
Kenjaku paused. He shifted his gaze from Kashimo to the girl in red. He gauged her energy. Decent, perhaps bordering on Special Grade, but nowhere near Kashimo's level.
He tilted his head. "And who are you?"
"I am—"
"My disciple," Kashimo interrupted. "She's with ."
Kenjaku stared. He blinked, once, then twice. The composure he had maintained for centuries finally faltered, replaced by a look of genuine, visible confusion.
A disciple? A girl?
He looked back and forth between the two. Kashimo looked completely indifferent. Fuka was looking down at him expectantly.
In all the years he had known Kashimo, the man had never shown interest in anyone beyond their ability to survive a fight. Man or woman, he viewed everyone as re collections of at.
Hell must have frozen over, Kenjaku thought.
But there was no ti to dwell on it. He pushed the shock aside and fixed his smile back into place.
"What is it you want?" he asked.
Kashimo jumped down from the tree, landing lightly in front of Kenjaku. He brushed a few leaves from his robes and looked him in the eye.
"I want a Binding Vow," Kashimo said. "I'll kill Ibaraki Doji for you. In exchange, you will reincarnate on June 20, 2002."
Kenjaku paused. 2002? The date was specific. He ran the numbers in his head. It didn't matter; according to his calculations, the Culling Ga would have roughly begun or ended around that ti. If he wasn't around to fulfill it, the vow would be moot anyway.
Kenjaku's smile widened. "Agreed."
The mont the words were spoken, a faint ripple of cursed energy passed between them. The vow was set.
Kashimo didn't look at him again. He turned toward the now fully-ford curse, drawing the Soul Split Katana. The black blade shimred darkly in the sun.
Behind them, Fuka watched from the branch. The only Demon King of the Edo period was about to go to work.
Suddenly, the ground gave way.
It wasn't a physical collapse. The world itself began to spin, tear, and rebuild. The three of them were plunged into darkness, caught in a weightless tumble through a void.
When their vision cleared, they were standing in a world of crimson.
There was no sky, no horizon, only an endless expanse of red. It felt as if they had been swallowed by a gargantuan beast. Fleshy, pulsating walls stretched in every direction, woven together like a grotesque spiderweb. Blood flowed slowly along the at, pooling into deep, dark crimson pits below. Skulls, severed limbs, and piles of bone were scattered across the floor like discarded toys.
And from the walls, thousands of eyes were watching them.
Ghosts, demons, and spirits of every description lurked in the shadows. So were skeletal, others were masses of twisted shadow, but all of them radiated a starving, predatory hunger. They looked at the three newcors as if they were fresh at delivered to a cage.
"So," Kenjaku said, adjusting his stance as they continued to fall through the space. "It seems his Innate Domain is the Hyakki."
No one answered him because a different sound drowned him out.
"What the hell is a Hyakki!"
Fuka's scream echoed through the red void. She was flailing in the air, her previous cool deanor completely shattered. Her red robes billowed around her and her ponytail had co undone, her long hair whipping in the wind.
Kenjaku glanced at her, unimpressed. So much for the tough act.
"The Hyakki is the legend of the Hundred Demons," he explained, his voice calm despite the descent. "And Ibaraki's domain is clearly their gathering ground. This place connects to the underworld. The Demon King himself is likely here."
Beside him, Kashimo was falling headfirst, his eyes closed. He said nothing. The Soul Split Katana fell beside him, its black blade a dark streak against the screaming red of the world.
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A/n: 500 power stones = 1 bonus chapter. Don't forget to vote with your power stones!!
For early access to 10 chapters ahead: p@tre~~/Demonic_Fiction (Link is in the synopsis and my profile).
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