Midway up the mountain. The stone steps from the foot of the mountain came to an end here.
The road upward stretched even further, winding and undulating. Yet the surrounding terrain abruptly opened wide.
A platform, encircled by colossal Buddha statues, several times larger than the one where Takeda Shingen had first paused at the mountain's base. And at the very center of this platform, stood a white elephant, invisible to ordinary human eyes. Six tusks. Each one as thick as a grown man's arm, curving outward and upward from either side of its mouth.
Their tips radiated a gentle, soft light. It was the Six-Tusked White Elephant. In Buddhism, the steed of Samantabhadra, one of the Four Great Bodhisattvas. Symbolizing wisdom, compassion, and protection. The Guardian Spirit of Imagawa Yoshimoto.
Unlike the Golden Lion and the Celestial-Eye Peacock, this white elephant showed no signs of rampage. It stood quietly upon the platform. Its four feet were planted motionless upon the stone.
Its six eyes, three on each side of its head, were half-lidded, as though slumbering. But Shinji could feel it. It was watching him. Within those six half-closed slits, golden light was slowly, inexorably gathering.
The Shura Form was still in operation. The instant the six-meter Bone Thunder colossus set foot upon the edge of the platform, the white elephant moved. No bellow. No roar. It simply raised its right forefoot. And brought it down.
BOOM.
The stone surface of the platform exploded outward from beneath the elephant's foot into a spiderweb of fractures. The shockwave radiated outward with it as the epicenter. Vow-power.
The Six-Tusked White Elephant was unlike the other Guardian Spirits. It was not the manifestation of great momentum. Not the Mandate of Heaven. Not the materialization of personal will. It was the final, intangible gift of Taigen Sessai to Imagawa Yoshimoto.
The vow-power and hōriki accumulated over Taigen Sessai's entire lifetime, condensed within the body of this white elephant. Now, with that single stomp, it poured forth. Ten times more concentrated than the golden light released by the Buddha statues. And its direction, was even more absolute. Straight toward the chest of the Shura Form.
Shinji's reaction was blindingly fast. Banryū cleaved vertically downward. The projected greatsword from the Shura Form's third arm descended with all its weight, crashing against that shockwave.
The two forces collided at the center of the platform. Banryū was hurled back. The stone steps beneath his feet shattered across a wide expanse. Fragments of stone flew to either side. But those colossal, Bone-Thunder-wrought feet, were nailed to the ground. Utterly immovable.
The System panel had already flickered during the ascent.
[Banryū: Affection +2. Current Affection: 50]
[Second Talent Unlocked — Immovable Earth: When wielding this blade, the user, standing upon the earth, shall not be moved. No force shall cause the wielder to retreat, unless the wielder actively chooses to retreat or is forcibly separated from the earth.]
The artifact of Spleen-Earth. The greatsword forged through the Thousand-Demon Slaying, famed for its sheer weight. During the ascent up the mountain, amidst the grinding pressure of Buddhist power and the bombardment of golden spheres, it had felt the will of its wielder.
That will to climb the mountain. To never retreat. Affection had climbed from forty-eight to fifty. Breaking through the Talent threshold. The Immovable Earth. Now, it was put to use.
The white elephant's second foot came crashing down. Even heavier. The entire platform sank half a shaku beneath that single blow. Cracks spidered across the bases of the surrounding Buddha statues.
The Shura Form gripped Banryū and stood its ground. Did not retreat. It was as though roots had grown between the soles of its feet and the stone. The very earth had become his anchor.
The white elephant's six eyes fully opened. Golden light erupted from its pupils. Six pillars of light intersected and converged directly before the Shura Form. That was the posture of preparing an all-out strike.
Shinji, too, moved. In the body of the Shura, he enacted a deed from the Buddhist scriptures. There is a tale within the Buddhist canon. In his youth, before he became the Buddha, Prince Shakyamuni's cousin, Devadatta, shot and killed a white elephant.
He abandoned its colossal corpse before the city gates, blocking the road. No one could move it. Prince Shakyamuni walked to the city gate. With one hand, he lifted the dead elephant and hurled it beyond the city walls.
Three days and three nights later, it finally struck the ground. This was Shakyamuni Hurls the Elephant, a single throw that shook the heavens. Shinji had never studied Buddhism. But he knew this story.
Thus, at this moment, he retracted the Shura Form. The six-meter Bone Thunder colossus collapsed in a single instant. The skeletal frame fractured and withdrew. The thunder dissipated. The projected and amplified weapons reverted to their original sizes. All externally released yōki was drawn back into his body.
He stood upon the platform in his true form. In his right hand, he gripped Banryū. The hilt of the pale greatsword was pressed against his palm. The Valor Talent activated. His strength doubled. With the Immovable Earth upon it.
The white elephant's six pillars of light merged into a single beam and blasted toward his position. The golden light detonated. The shattered stone upon the platform was hurled several meter into the air by the shockwave.
Shinji's feet did not leave the ground. Banryū was braced horizontally before him. The flat of the blade bore the full brunt of the impact. Beneath the dual Talents of doubled strength and the Immovable Earth, he remained utterly motionless.
The shockwave bled past either side of him, shaving yet another layer off the stone steps behind him. Shinji stood where he was. Banryū smoked and hissed. Yet he did not take a single step back. Did not retreat even an inch.
And the instant the golden light scattered, he lowered the greatsword and lunged forward. Banryū dragged behind him, its tip carving a hissing furrow through the stone.
And as Shinji advanced, the white elephant, instead, retreated. Its four feet gouged deep claw-marks across the stone surface. Its colossal spirit-body trembled faintly. Guardian Spirits had no self. They could not feel fear. The retreat was purely instinct. Because it sensed a force.
A force different from Buddhist power. Different from yōki. It was Extreme Will. Sword Will. Something a yōkai should never have possessed. The pure spiritual energy belonging to humanity. The white elephant's six eyes half-closed once more.
Shinji now stood three paces from the white elephant. He extended a single hand. He was about to seize it. To hurl the elephant. To capture it. Banryū stood planted beside him, its tip pointed downward.
He gazed at this Six-Tusked White Elephant. The violet veins within his crimson demon eyes swirled with a deep, abiding calm. He intended to capture it. Not to cut it down. If he cut down the white elephant, oshimoto's Guardian Spirit would be wounded. And a wounded Guardian Spirit would drastically reduce Imagawa Yoshimoto's chances of successfully marching on the capital.
Only by capturing the white elephant intact, could Yoshimoto walk out of this mountain whole. Only then would she have the chance to march on Kyōto. To realize his plan of advancing into the capital from two fronts simultaneously. And so, he would emulate Shakyamuni. Subdue it through sheer, overwhelming force.
His palm faced forward. Five fingers spread wide. He pressed toward the white elephant's forehead. The white elephant's six eyes flew wide open, as though it was about to resist. To fight back. It was at that very moment,
"Stop, stop, stop!" A girl's voice rang out from behind the white elephant. Clear. Urgent. Carrying the flustered panic of sheer desperation. Hearing that familiar young voice, Shinji's movements paused. The white elephant's colossal spirit-body shifted half a step to the side. It revealed the person behind it.
A twelve-layered kimono of deep purple and gold thread. Layer upon layer of hems were heaped upon the stone, coated in dust. Her hair ornaments were askew. Only a single golden hairpin still clung to her chignon.
The rest had fallen to who-knew-where. Her slender frame, narrow shoulders, slim waist, was curled beside the white elephant's hind leg. Her hands clutched the spirit-hairs of its leg, like a small child hiding behind an adult's thigh. Imagawa Yoshimoto lifted her head. Her delicate, striking face was painted with a mix of lingering terror and dawning relief.
She looked at the demon warrior in gray robes before her. Her lips moved twice. And then "Shinji! What took you so long!" Her voice seemed to carry a faint tremor. As though she had known he would come. As though she had been waiting for a very, very long time.
A short while later.
Within another cave at the mountainside. Not large. Yet not small. Barely enough to cram in a dozen people. The entrance was mostly blocked by two toppled Buddha statues, leaving only a narrow gap through which the light from the white mist filtered.
Shinji leaned against the cave wall. Banryū was planted at his side. Onikiri and Yomi-giri were sheathed and laid across his knees. Imagawa Yoshimoto sat across from him. The few remaining layers of her twelve-layered kimono were spread around her on the ground like crumpled, deep violet petals.
She seemed to finally have a moment to fix her hair, yet it was still crooked. No matter how she adjusted it, it refused to be symmetrical. She gave up. She pulled out that last golden hairpin as well. Her long hair spilled loose over her shoulders.
The clothes were still there, but stripped of the visual effect layered by heavy ornamentation, Yoshimoto's frame seemed especially slight. Slender lines. Yet further down, the curve was full and ripe. The fabric of her kimono was drawn taut in two places, forming a stark contrast with the slenderness everywhere else.
The white elephant was crouched just outside the cave entrance. Its six tusks were folded inward. Its spirit-body had shrunk to a size of roughly six meter. Its four feet were curled beneath it upon the stone. Its six golden eyes were still half-lidded. Utterly still. Utterly quiet. Like an obedient, well-behaved hound.
"It didn't go berserk?" Oda Nobuna, who had followed them up, sat cross-legged against the other side of the cave wall. Her amber-like eyes stared at the white elephant outside the entrance. Her voice carried undisguised bewilderment. Her own Celestial-Eye Peacock and Leopard-Tail God had gone mad.
Even that woman Takeda Shingen's Guardian Spirit had clearly gone out of control. Yet now, Yoshimoto's Six-Tusked White Elephant seemed utterly serene. And even more, she had followed behind Shinji as he climbed the mountain. She had seen it. The moment Yoshimoto had shouted for it to stop, it had truly stopped.
"Of course it didn't." Yoshimoto's voice had regained its usual cadence. Without her folding fan, she tapped the tip of the golden hairpin against her own knee. Her chin lifted slightly.
"It wouldn't go berserk."
Though Yoshimoto had already shown hints of this earlier, Shinji was still faintly surprised. Could she also truly see the existence of her Guardian Spirit? Was it because the Six-Tusked White Elephant that Taigen Sessai had left her was special enough? Shinji fell into deep thought.
"Why?" Oda Nobuna pressed.
Yoshimoto glanced at Shinji. Shinji didn't stop her. Because he wanted to know as well. Though it was, in all likelihood, connected to Taigen Sessai.
Then Yoshimoto spoke. Her pace was unhurried, as though she were recounting something someone else had once told her.
"After being pulled into this mountain, the white elephant has been at my side the entire time. It didn't go berserk like your Guardian Spirits. The reason, it told me."
"Told you?" Nobuna blinked. A Guardian Spirit… could speak? This, she did not know.
"Not speaking." Yoshimoto searched for the right words. "It was more like… intent? In any case, it transmitted some things directly into my mind. Images. Sensations. Very blurry. Like a dream. But I could understand the general meaning."
As expected. Shinji understood. The white elephant was not the condensation of Yoshimoto's own Mandate. It was not the manifestation of her authority. Not the momentum coalesced from the faith of tens of thousands of subjects. Its origin was utterly different. And so it was different from normal Guardian Spirits.
"It was given to me by my teacher." Yoshimoto's voice grew soft. Teacher. Taigen Sessai. The strategist of the Imagawa clan. The Black-Robed Chancellor. A woman whose allotted span was near its end, yet who had left nothing unaccounted for.
Before her death, she had left her final gift to her student. The white elephant was the manifestation of the vow-power and hōriki that Taigen Sessai had accumulated over a lifetime of Buddhist practice. It was the guardian her teacher had condensed with her dying thoughts and attached to Yoshimoto's being.
It was not the Mandate of Heaven. The Mandate was the momentum of ten thousand souls, it required the convergence of enough human hearts to coalesce. Nor was it the manifestation of Yoshimoto's personal will. It was another person's vow. A retainer. A teacher. A woman who had watched Yoshimoto grow up from a child. The final protective charm she had left behind before death.
And so Mount Hakurei could not pull it away. What Mount Hakurei drew in were spirit-bodies condensed from the Mandate of Heaven, energies born of mortal authority and fortune that resonated with the grudge of this flesh-buddha.
The white elephant did not belong to that category. It belonged solely to Taigen Sessai alone. It guarded only Imagawa Yoshimoto alone.
"It told me that something within this mountain is trying to draw it in. But it doesn't want to go." Yoshimoto's fingers fiddled unconsciously with the golden hairpin. Her voice carried a tenderness she herself hadn't noticed.
"It said that Teacher told it to guard me. So it guards me. Other matters, are none of its concern."
A brief silence fell within the cave. Oda Nobuna leaned against the cave wall, her golden hair spilling loose. After listening to Yoshimoto's words, her golden slit-pupils stared at the white elephant outside the cave entrance for a very long time.
The expression on her face held jealousy. Blatant, obvious jealousy. Both of her Guardian Spirits had been stolen. She had controlled them tightly with the chains of hellfire. Yet the moment she was pulled into this mountain, they had turned against her.
And this coward Imagawa Yoshimoto, not only did she have that yōkai helping her, even her Guardian Spirit, that white elephant, had been willingly given to her by someone else. Entrusted as a final bequest on the verge of death. No chains were needed. It simply refused to leave on its own.
How unjust was this world. How utterly infuriating! Oda Nobuna gnashed her teeth, desperately wanting to roar a few curses.
But what Nobuna didn't know was that Yoshimoto was, in turn, grinding her teeth in fury at this entire pack of so-called god-buddha incarnations!
On the other side, Takeda Shingen, who had also followed them, reacted rather differently. Her deep crimson eyes narrowed faintly. Her iron fan lay motionless across her knees.
"Guardian Spirit…" It was the first time she had heard this term. Though she had indeed felt something being torn from her body, something being wrenched away, she hadn't known what it truly was. She couldn't see it. Couldn't touch it.
Now she knew. Shingen recalled the lion's roar she had heard the instant it had been ripped from her. The lingering sensation of tearing along her spine still hadn't fully faded. That thing… was very important to her.
Shingen's lips pressed together briefly. She didn't press further. She memorized the term. She also thought to herself: it seemed she, too, needed to climb this mountain and take back what was hers. It had always been she who took from others. No one took from Takeda Shingen!
And just as everyone was lost in their own thoughts, Imagawa Yoshimoto stood up. The layered hems of her twelve-layered kimono rustled loudly as she rose. Her loosened long hair slid from her shoulders and cascaded down her back.
She walked before Shinji. Three steps forward. Then, she halted abruptly. The young daimyō was not tall. Even standing straight, she only rose about a head above him as he sat. But she met those crimson demon eyes with a pair of gleaming, luminous eyes.
And then, she suddenly bent at the waist. Leaned down. Both hands braced against her knees. Her face drew almost to the very front of Shinji's. So close their breaths mingled. So close their respiration touched. Heat washed over his face. Her collar, in that leaning posture, gaped loose and open. The deep purple fabric sagged downward with gravity.
A full, curve of her cleavage spilled heavily from the gap in her lapels, cinched tight on either side by the fabric, carving a deep, shadowed furrow. The sunken shadow was startlingly vivid in the dim light of the cave. She didn't notice any of this. Or rather, she was doing it completely deliberately.
She spoke, one word at a time. "I am no longer a weakling. Nakai Shinji." Her voice was not loud. Yet it carried an irrepressible pride.
"Teacher left the white elephant to me. It now follows my every word. I am the lord of three provinces. The First Archer of the Tōkaidō!" Her hand lifted from her knee. Her index finger pointed at the tip of his nose. Her fingertip trembled faintly, yet the aim was steady and true.
"I will not lose to that miko at your side!" As her words finished, the rims of Yoshimoto's ears flushed crimson all the way up, from her earlobes to her temples.
She didn't even know why she had added that last sentence. She only realized it was a mistake after it had already left her mouth. But she couldn't take it back. So she simply stiffened her neck and refused to budge.
She maintained that leaning posture. Her lips were pressed into a thin line. Her expression was one of righteous, unwavering conviction.
Shinji sat cross-legged before the cave wall. He met the gaze of this girl, this young daimyō, face to face.
Before him was Yoshimoto's collar, gaping open from her leaning posture. And that shadowed valley, rising and falling faintly with her breath. His line of sight was level. Directly at that height. His heart stirred faintly. But his crimson demon eyes didn't blink.
Then he spoke. "Mn." Just one syllable.
Yoshimoto waited two seconds. No continuation came. "Just 'Mn'?"
"What do you want me to say?"
"At least—at least say something like 'You're amazing'!"
"You're amazing."
"…You're patronizing me!" Yoshimoto stamped her foot. The hem of her kimono whipped an arc through the air. She spun around, turning her back to him, and folded her arms across her chest.
The deep purple fabric was compressed by her arms. The full contour from the side bulged into an even more exaggerated curve. She let out an indignant huff. But the corner of her mouth curved upward. She just quickly pressed it back down, afraid someone might see.
Oda Nobuna, leaning against the opposite wall, watched this entire scene. Her eyes narrowed. Her expression became even more indescribable. It seemed she was beginning to understand why she couldn't steal this yōkai away from Imagawa Yoshimoto's side.
Maeda Toshiie crouched beside Nobuna and whispered into her ear. "My lord, that Yoshimoto… does she… like that yōkai?"
"Shut. Up." It was the second time Nobuna had spoken those two words today.