While Muramasa fought three demons inside the city, Haru and his group stood frozen outside, staring at the sky.
"Is that the moon? I've never seen anything like it," Rihan said, his face caught between awe and unease.
Sesshomaru's gaze turned sharp, a rare shift from his usual calm. "That's no moon. It's the sun."
"The sun?" Haru glanced toward the horizon. "But it's setting over there."
"It's the sun," Sesshomaru replied, his tone cold and certain. "Just not the one we know." He paused, holding back a thought. If he was right, this wasn't about raw power, it was something bigger, something even he might not control.
He faced Tsuda. "Well, kid? What's your move? Time's slipping away."
Sesshomaru reached out. "If you're hesitating, give me the sword."
"No." Tsuda drew Tetsusaiga, staring at the barrier around Kyoto. "I've made up my mind."
"Good resolve." Sesshomaru stepped behind him, gripping the sword with him in a steady hold. For a moment, he remembered a similar scene happened before but now his stubborn half-brother, Inuyasha, is gone. Despite his icy front, that loss still stung.
"Keep your eyes forward," Sesshomaru said, voice like steel. "Don't shame the blade's last master."
His vast demon energy poured out, flowing through Tsuda into Tetsusaiga like a rushing river.
Tsuda grunted as the power hit him, filling him like air in a balloon about to burst. But Sesshomaru guided it, letting it surge into the sword just before it overwhelmed the boy.
'Can't run, can't run, can't run… Focus ahead. Shion's waiting,' Tsuda thought, clutching the silver orb at his chest. It flared with blinding light, and Tetsusaiga shifted.
Forged from their father's fang, tempered by Inuyasha's, and shaped by Sesshomaru's care, Tetsusaiga was a divine weapon; a blade of protection born from three souls. Only when wielded for love could it awaken.
Tsuda's heart aligned with that truth. Though his strength was small, the combined might of the brothers unleashed the sword's true form.
The chipped, rusty edge vanished, replaced by a massive, gleaming fang.
Tsuda stared, amazed. It was huge yet light, like part of his own body. He swore he felt it pulse, tied to his heartbeat.
'Is this sword… alive?'
Memories of swordplay and battles trickled from the blade and orb poured into his mind. It was only a fragment of Tetsusaiga's wisdom, but it nearly broke him.
Sesshomaru raised an eyebrow. A human syncing with the sword this well? Unheard of. 'A natural talent for blades?' It was the only answer.
Haru watched quietly, his face hard to read. He'd trained Tsuda for just two days, yet the boy's growth was unreal. If Haru weren't a master himself, he might've felt outdone. Two days for Tsuda matched two weeks for him. Almost unfair.
A breeze picked up. "Wind…," Tsuda whispered.
Sesshomaru's eyes narrowed. He pushed more energy into the sword. "Wind Scar!"
It was a simple move, the root of Tetsusaiga's power. With Sesshomaru's strength, it became a storm like no other.
The gale roared, clawing the earth like a beast. It slammed into the barrier, ripping it apart only to see it heal instantly. Then Sesshomaru drew Bakusaiga. Lightning flashed from the blade, striking the storm's heart. The blast tore a wide gash in the barrier.
A faint echo rang in their heads: '…Thank you…'
Rihan dashed in first, Yuki Onna close behind. Ushioni stayed back, tending to the injured Karasu Tengu.
Haru glanced at Tsuda, then followed the demons into the city.
Sesshomaru sheathed Bakusaiga and let go. Tetsusaiga dulled to its plain form.
Tsuda blinked, then called out, "Lord Sesshomaru… how many did I—"
Sesshomaru stopped. "Pointless. Nothing outweighs the one you love."
Tsuda watched him walk off, then hurried after.
Unnoticed, as the barrier began to mend, a girl's shadow slipped through.
—--------------------------------------------------------------------------
"Your barrier's down. Not so unbreakable like you said, huh?" A mirror of black mist formed, red eyes glaring from within.
Amakusa smiled thinly. "Everything breaks eventually. I planned for it. A slim chance, sure, but I've got a backup."
"Oh?" Hundred Eyes pressed. "Then use it."
Amakusa's smile twitched. "Might not need it now."
"Five intruders, led by Sesshomaru. Their strength varies, but he alone can shred my defenses. Twenty thousand demons remain in the city but they are small fry to him. More foes might just thrill him."
He turned to Hundred Eyes. "Can you hold them off? I'm stuck here."
Hundred Eyes stared silently.
"You…You planned this," it snapped. "You don't trust me, so you're shoving me aside at the key moment!"
"Not true," Amakusa said smoothly. "You're like a mentor to me, a father. That's why I trust your power. Even against Sesshomaru, you can buy time."
"I'm not what you think. I am just a husk now."
"Don't sell yourself short, Lady Hiruko of the Yellow Spring." Amakusa dropped her name casually. "If this fails, you're in deep too."
The mirror sprouted eerie eyes, all locked on him. "Fine, contractor. But if the ritual fails…"
The mist faded, leaving a warning: "Your soul's trapped in the abyss!"
"Heh..that's a bit spooky," Amakusa chuckled. "Jiu, you're my shield."
"Yes!" Jiu said firmly. "I'll guard you with my life, Lord Amakusa!"
"Stay alive," he replied. "I'd be lost without you."
He faced the hundred demon warriors. "The time's here. Give me your bodies!"
"For Lord Yellow Spring!" they roared, slashing their wrists and stabbing themselves in a brutal cross-cut.
The bloody scene shook the maidens, who clung together, trembling.
The warriors fell, their blood soaking the ground, tracing hidden patterns like canals.
Their corpses melted, reshaping into low, wriggling walls. The walls fused, forming eight channels around a central mound.
Amakusa frowned at the shaken maidens. "Stop."
His voice, edged with magic, froze them still.
Only Yuri, beside him, moved freely. She tugged his sleeve. "What's wrong?"
He patted her head and faced the maidens, his eyes flashing red. "Come."
Seventeen girls, including Shion, stepped forward, their gazes blank.
"Bring the demon sword," Amakusa commanded.
Two white-robed figures carried a stone platform down, skirting the channels with care.
Seeing just two, Amakusa's face darkened, but he stayed quiet.
The platform hit the ground. "Lord Yellow Spring, it's—"
"Run if you want to live," Amakusa cut in. "I can't cover you next."
He touched the platform, and a dark aura spilled out; twisted, like a nightmare with no shape.
The two scrambled away, fleeing up the stairs as if staying would doom them.
Amakusa smirked briefly, then focused on the ritual.
He positioned the maidens along the channels, with Yuri and the seventeen "vessels" at the core, like a bud ready to bloom.
Chanting gravely, he traced a magic circle linking to the mound.
He cleared the stones, set the platform atop it, and knelt like a priest.
"She has no face, the gods are silent.
It is the first, the nameless.
The ancestor cast beyond the world, forsaken, vengeful.
On the Yellow Spring's far shore, where flowers fade, the unreturned.
This heart, this wish, flows to the endless…
Hear me, faceless Earth Mother, great Mother of Gods!
—The witching hour strikes!"
Tender sprouts pierced the soil, blooming into blood-red mandrakes at unnatural speed. But as they spread, seals on the mound pinned them down.
Amakusa breathed deep and reached for the seals.
A chill stopped him. He pulled back, checking his palm; gray, lifeless.
It's not that it's dead in the biological sense, it's just that it can no longer carry out life activities and has become motionless like a dead object.
'Not petrification. It's existence itself, halted.'
He saw why even immortal mandrakes couldn't break through.
"Hundred Eyes didn't lie. The fountain won't open easily."
He pressed the platform. "That's why I need this sword."
Black runes snaked up his wrist as he sank his hands into the stone.
Pain flared, but he pulled hard.
The platform cracked apart, revealing a sword with a withered ghost hand at its hilt.
Green flames danced along the blade, shifting; black, red, white, yellow and colorless. Each change twisted Amakusa's face.
'Even with my sync ability, I can't master it without forging it myself.'
But it's fine, his purpose was not to control it but simply to "use" it.
Forged from four hundred famed blades and human sin, this sword was the world's dark reflection. Its fire burned souls, not flesh.
"How ironic! The only thing in human beings that will never be 'stilled' is sin... jealousy, desire, killing intent, hatred, greed... Even if they are still on a physical level, these invisible things will always exist and flow endlessly, without end!"
A blade of malice, it could pierce the seals safely.
Steeling himself, Amakusa drove it into the mound.
A wave of stillness swept out, draining color from the world. But as it neared, he shouted, "Hellfire · Six Brahma Lords!"
Flames flared, clashing with the gray in a harsh grind.
The sword sank through the seals, into the mandrake soil.
A low rumble shook the earth, like a giant stirring.
The mound split, and a glowing red liquid seeped out. It was stunning, like molten divine blood.
.....
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