Night in Izumo was a world apart from Kyoto.
There were no vendors with their lodic, drawn-out cries, and none of the hazy smoke from the night markets. The shops along the streets had long since closed, leaving only the lanterns hanging from the eaves. They swayed gently in the night breeze, casting rhythmic, flickering shadows across the cobblestones.
It wasn't a place for comrce, but Kashimo liked it. It was quiet.
Fuka was still adjusting. She walked beside him, her eyes darting around as if looking for sothing that should have been there. She was the most modern person Kashimo had ever t, a creature of the night who struggled to keep her eyes open during the day but beca fully alert the mont the stars ca out. If he didn't force her to sleep, she would spend the entire night on a roof, staring at the moon.
Kashimo didn't mind. She was eighteen. Having a few secrets and a dislike for sleep seed normal enough.
Their footsteps echoed clearly in the empty street. When they reached the center of the road, they both stopped. A man was walking toward them from the shadows.
He wore a dark blue robe that shimred deeply in the moonlight. He was taller than before, his stride more confident and stable. As he stepped into the light, a single, jagged stitched scar beca visible across his forehead.
"I apologize for the wait," the man said.
His voice had changed, carrying a new, unfamiliar rasp, but the underlying amusent remained the sa. Kashimo stared at him for two seconds before arching an eyebrow.
"So that's why you could finally afford to send a ssenger," Kashimo noted, his gaze lingering on the scar. "New body, Kenjaku?"
Fuka's body stiffened.
New body? How do you even do that? Do you cut your head open?
She stared at the stitches on the man's forehead, her mind filling with unpleasant images. She instinctively shifted a few inches behind Kashimo's shoulder.
Kenjaku seed unfazed. He stood there with a smile that matched his previous face perfectly, either ignoring Fuka's reaction or simply not caring.
"According to the reports from the Ten Shadows," Kenjaku began, his tone composed, "he intends to subjugate Mahoraga here in Izumo."
He paused. "That is why I asked you to co."
"Wait a second." Kashimo held up a hand to cut him off. "What happened to the local culture? The martial arts?"
He took a step forward, his brow furrowed. "What happened to all the things you said I'd find interesting?"
He took another step, looming over the new face. "You've been playing , haven't you?"
Kenjaku let out a long, weary sigh that sounded loud in the quiet street. He looked up at the pale-haired man, whose body was already beginning to spark with electricity.
"I don't believe for a second that he can actually control Mahoraga," Kenjaku said, his voice earnest. "I asked you here because I want you to intercept him before he tries."
Kenjaku paused. "An ambush."
"I don't do ambushes."
Kashimo stared at him, the purple markings around his eyes seemingly burning in the dark. The blue-white arcs of lightning snapping around his shoulders illuminated the night.
"I don't need a head start," Kashimo said, taking another step forward. "Do you think I'll lose?"
Kenjaku looked at the sparks and the dangerous intensity in Kashimo's eyes. A faint smile touched his lips. "That wasn't my aning."
His voice dropped slightly. "I'm worried he'll drag you into the ritual itself."
Kashimo's movent stalled.
Kenjaku watched him, feeling a rare mont of introspection. In his own strange way, he considered Kashimo a friend. Even if the man constantly drained his finances, demanded his techniques, and forced him to act as a ntor, he was a fixture in a very long, very boring life. In a century of monotony, having soone like Kashimo around was sothing he had co to value.
The lightning around Kashimo's shoulders slowly died away. He stared at Kenjaku for a mont before letting out a sharp, dry laugh.
"Then I'll just kill Mahoraga," Kashimo said. His voice was calm, as though he were speaking of sothing utterly trivial. "Just give the ti and the place. That's all I need."
Kenjaku nodded, his composure returning. "December 22nd. Twenty days from now."
Kashimo gave a single nod and turned away. His footsteps rang out on the stones, sharp and decisive. The tiger-skin shawl swayed with his stride, the orange fur pale in the moonlight.
Fuka lingered for a second. She looked at Kenjaku, whose stitched face still held that faint smile. She gave him a small, polite bow of gratitude. To her, he was an friend and a peer of Kashimo, and she had been raised to respect such things. Then, she turned and ran to catch up with Kashimo.
Kenjaku stood in the silence, watching them disappear into the night. A thoughtful, distant smile remained on his face.
***
Kashimo walked with a steady, unhurried pace.
Killing Mahoraga. He knew the stakes.
He could do it if he used Mythical Beast Amber. The power of that form was absolute, enough to tear any opponent into pieces. But the price was his life. He wasn't ready to die yet. He hadn't spent seventeen years becoming this strong just to let his legacy end with a suicide move.
He needed another way. Sothing stronger. Sothing better.
He stared at the moon-washed street ahead, his brow tightening.
No other choice, he thought.
***
Outside Kyoto.
The Zenin clan caravan had just begun its journey. The rhythm of the horses and the low rumble of the wagon wheels filled the air on the main road.
Zenin Sawara sat inside, his chin resting in his hand as he watched the landscape roll past. It would take at least ten days to reach Izumo.
He had intentionally leaked the news of the subjugation. He wanted the world to know that the Ten Shadows of the Zenin was about to claim the strongest shikigami in history. Very few sorcerers would have the courage to interfere. He was confident in that.
But there was one man he was worried about. The man people were calling the strongest of the era.
Arashi Gojo was dead. Two princesses were gone. Even Juro Hisashige, the master of the Kyoto dojo, had been killed. Sawara had heard that Juro's daughter had returned to take over the school, but everyone knew she was just a figurehead.
He didn't need to guess who was behind it all.
Sawara's brow furrowed. Though, he had to admit, the new master of the Hisashige dojo was an interesting anomaly. A girl with zero cursed energy who could fight like a demon.
He shook his head, clearing the thought. He needed to focus. He had to be prepared for anything. He turned his gaze back to the window, watching the mountain forests recede into the distance.
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A/n: 350 power stones = 1 bonus chapter. Don't forget to vote with your power stones!!
For early access to 15 chapters ahead: p@tre~~/Demonic_Fiction (Link is in the synopsis and my profile).
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