Just made it in time! Welcome back, everyone, to another chapter. I'd like to say I wasn't rushing for this one, because I actually enjoy writing at my old tempo again where words just flow out endlessly and quickly. Let me know what you think via the reviews, as usual. Unlike the previous two chapters, there's no M-rated scenes here even though I wanted to fit in Jūbei's deflowering scene... Maybe next chapter?
Personally, it's been a bad time... for my movie regime! Why can't all movies come out during the pandemic and have to be delayed... (being deliberately selfish here)! Still, the end of March seems to be the limit, and most of the new movies, series, animes, etc. I've been looking forward to all are going to come out soon. Happy!
Check out this mailbag for some clarity!
Deviljho: Don't take this wrong, but your reaction was exactly the kind I was looking for when I first pitted Danzō and the Fūma against each other. To keep it brief, I advise you combing through some older chapters and the ANs there, because I mentioned how her cold attitude was a deliberate ruse. She still cares for them, I guarantee you that, unlike her canon self where she'd completely forgotten about Kotarō in during their first meeting.
Kulkulkan-chan: I genuinely was just writing that part for fun to get it off my back, doing my best to incorporate it (or not!) into the main story. Well, at the very least you enjoyed the 'flavour'! Wahahaha! Speaking of that new movie, I've always somehow disliked Kong's portrayal in older movies, so I'll pick Godzilla for now until I get the chance to watch this latest one.
Guest (1): No, it's fine. Dasgun have confirmed to me it was partially an error on his hardware. If he wants to troll, then I still welcome him. Like I mentioned all the way back in HV-S01: RKR, the only thing I don't appreciate is flamers.
Royal Freshness12345: No, Kashin Koji (and Otakemaru, by extension), is normally much more powerful. I think I've alluded in the story the version SHIROU fought was far from his best, and the real one was so powerful he had to be sealed (if you follow Nioh 2's DLC, by both Raikou and Seimei at the same time). Remember his real power back in the Heian period, historical canonically, was on par with Tamamo's Beast-level power. [...] Also, I forgot to reply to you about this: The Fūma really was just debating information. Nothing about who they'll serve next if they lose because they're confident in themselves.
In his life, it's rare Ukita Naoie got jealous of another man.
To most, the male daimyo was living the ideal life: influential, wealthy, his chambers filled with willing women, graced by loving families, and so on. However, he was already regretting the land he inherited, given it made him subservient to the previous shogun, the Ashikagas. Holding power over his life – or, at the very least, perfectly capable of ruining it without killing him – the Ashikaga siblings put pressure on him to resist Owari's encroachment, despite the Empress herself granting de facto blessing to Oda Nobunaga to march unhindered all over Nihon.
Ordered to enter and conquer Harima, one of Nihon's most valued trade hubs – and, most importantly, one in which neutrality was emphasized much in the same way as Sakai – Ashikaga Yoshiaki's letter brought countless headaches and sleepless nights to him, to the point several of his mistress had grown worried.
Still, back to the original topic. He always viewed himself as Nihon's most wanted widower – 'Can't use the title 'bachelor' any longer…' – but the rise of this mysterious heir to the Minamoto Clan, who was often seen with different women by his side, beck, and call, incited a feeling of rivalry inside the older man.
He didn't know Muramasa personally, but he was looking forward to meeting and judging the boy's quality with his own two eyes. And, the faster he mounted his offense on Harima, the more likely they'd meet on the battlefield.
An astute general and politician, he'd been looking for ways to escape his clan's servitude to the Ashikaga Shogunate… and when whispers of Imagawa Yoshimoto returning triumphant from Ming with Yoshiaki's and Yoshiteru's heads arrived at his doorstep, he mobilized several of his shinobis and mercenaries to confirm this rumour. History had taught the undiligent always received their dues, littered with countless cases of a party's previous backers turning their backs once unconfirmed news of the former's demise circulated… only later to find their descendants rising to power and crushing everyone in revenge.
Still, his clan lacked proper resources in this area, unlike the Hōjō, Takeda, and Oda who retained or created great services of information network. Thus, the reports came back all questionable, inserting hesitation into his plans.
If it's true, then his beloved daughter wouldn't be in danger anymore.
She was the most important thing in the world for him – more than his fiefdom, his women, his gold, his rice, and so on. His numerous flings and marriages only bore him this one gem to the world, and before her arrival, he thought poorly of his… 'performance', despite making girls orgasm as much as possible. Was there something wrong with him? It couldn't be all the girls he chose and attained were coincidentally barren, no? The age-old blame culture on women was a thing of long past, ever since the emergence of Princess Generals. In fact, there were matriarchal families where a man's worth was judged on how many children he could produce with as much females as possible, serving more like a breeding stud than a family head.
If Naoie was in one of those families, he would've been excommunicated after the first few attempts.
While unconfirmed, the Minamoto Clan was rumoured to practice a limited version of this, considering its female family head now sat on Nihon's throne and its most promising male member nothing more than an extremely skilled blacksmith, rising to prominence only in the last few years instead of being groomed as a royal clan's successor.
Strangely enough, that statement would contradict his performance so far, having served so successfully beside his Princess General to gain attention, especially after his victory over 'Bishamonten', Nagao Kagetora, spread. The lack of any further information as to what Magecraft he practiced, what combat style he mastered, what's his weak points, etc. – along with the consistent 'disappearance' of people sent to investigate these points – led him to the conclusion Sengo Muramasa was a figure important enough to not be messed with.
Now, Naoie's status as the 'top man' in Nihon among the countless rising Princess Generals was threatened. No, perhaps he'd already been overtaken?
Well, the world would see on the battlefield, then.
- Knock. Knock.
He stood in his temporary base, a few miles out of Harima, surrounded by a small garrison of personal guards. His encampment might be tiny, yes, but it's partially out of concern the mercantile traffic around Harima would be alarmed and hinder his current scouting mission. It was a necessity for him to be directly involved due to his clan's aforementioned lack of information specialists.
Was it extra risk? Yes, but it's not as if he's martially inept.
In fact, he believed he's one of Nihon's foremost experts in battlefield arts, which currently was a mix of traditional swordsmanship, horseback riding, and musket play. He preferred the shorter pistols compared to Saika Magoichi's preference to arquebuses, but it made him no less dangerous.
Hearing the polite murmurs of one of his men, he grunted to signal whoever it was to enter. It should just be a guest – perhaps a local nobleman or mercenary leader looking to strike it rich by partnering with his efforts.
"Nyahaha! I'm back!"
Oh, how his surprised face was uniquely precious when Nagao Kagetora waltzed in through the tent flap, amidst the similarly-awed faces among his men.
"Let me meet my fated one on the battlefield, okay?"
- Clack. Clack. Clack.
Mortlake was a typical high-end suburban area near London, preferred by people connected enough to the royal court and those rich enough to buy their own positions in it. Unfortunately, no matter how well-manicured the lawns and -maintained the roads – both primary symbols of wealth and power – nothing could change Britain's miserable and unpredictable weather, especially nearing the winter months.
Today was supposed to be sunny, yet had transformed into just another confusing summer day when it's bright one moment and dark the next.
- Clack. Clack. Clack.
The sound of horses' hooves was, naturally, muted against the torrential late afternoon downpour around these parts – especially so because it's a gravel lane and not Central London's orderly bricks. People who mingled about amidst the rain usually had no choice: either labourers breaking their backs and disregarding the weather to earn that smidgeon more coin, or merchants who had coins to spare to hire carriages and not wait the rain out.
While yes, the passenger of this particular opulent carriage was rich, neither was she a merchant.
Elizabeth mulled on the weather, silently wondering how often the person she's going to visit got it wrong so many times lately, despite being a celebrated mathematician, astronomer, astrologer, teacher, occultist, and alchemist.
John Dee was her tutor and advisor, having known him personally since she was young. The purpose of this visit was mostly social, since she was concerned the downturn the Empire had been experiencing lately was affecting him more than her, strangely enough. It was also partially to take account on his new… unsanctioned 'activities' in the Far East, which was performed without her knowledge or approval despite being presented by the papers when she inquired of it by her agencies.
While she's not worried about Nihon's military presence this far from its territory, it's always best to understand and see things from all perspective before taking any firm decisions. Personally, she's also not sure what to feel about him overstepping his boundaries, since his abilities as her court mage warranted it – though the Parliament might think otherwise.
One aspect she disliked about the 'British culture' was the insistence on tradition, for better or worse. It's what led to the stunted expansion of the 'global' British Empire – a goal which would benefit all in Britain, instead of what some propaganda claimed to only do so for the royalists – making logistics and military support inefficient and corrupt. If only everyone acted – or, more simply, spoken – as decisively as her, John Dee, and other more… loyal to their cause, then who could stop them?
The storied legends of the Pendragon Clan hung around her, judging every little thing she did.
The earlier reason was also partially why Britain's Dragon Heritage escaped their grasp, enabling a particularly powerful Hungarian branch to assume top position… and thus, the Clan's control over almost everything mystical in Europe. Combine that with seemingly the Saintess's affection for the current Pendragon Clan Head, and the previously-mighty British Empire looked more like a toothless cat than a menacing tiger.
If John Dee's unauthorized action could bring back the glory they used to have, then so be it.
- Clack. Clack. Clack.
The pouring rain meant her convoy passed through without a lot of fuss, partly due to not having the royal regalia proudly presented garishly out front. When she did so, countless safety checks must be performed at every large junctions and open area – the aforementioned 'insistence on tradition' – as well as droves of crowds demanding her attention… as if they warranted more than the situation in Nihon, for example, which was also funded by those very same crowds' tax money.
Why couldn't they wrap their heads around such a basic thing, Elizabeth would never understand.
Rain also meant no one was particularly eager to go out and walk about, leaving the roads emptier than expected also owing to their even greater eagerness to avoid getting splashed by the carriage wheels. Drainage projects had just started, as the lack of effective mechanical slowed the ambitious web her engineers had planned around the city of London. Such a simple thing was made crucial precisely because London had truly become a city, and various plagues were rearing their ugly heads already at various places. Other than medicine, architecture became the next most important thing to ensure citizens' well-being.
John Dee's mansion in Mortlake was predictably large, given Elizabeth truly treasured their relationship and perhaps lavished him with more than she should. It was purely out of respect and admiration to the man's intelligence, as well as his perseverance in teaching her, a reputably difficult student. Of course, further maintenance of an asset like this came from his own abilities and income, so it's not like he's undeserving of this treatment. Elizabeth's seen so many wealthy families coming undone in just one generation owing to the then-family head's incompetence.
Operating money was at times just as hard, if not harder, than generating more.
Predictably for a magus's dwelling, the front gate automatically opened before the frontmost coachman had to descend into the rain and clang politely against the gate's ornate metal weights. Clearly, the convoy had plenty of experience around this place, and smoothly entered the invisible Bounded Field into the residential area.
"Your Majesty…!"
Unexpectedly, a frightened call came from said man who first arrived at the scene.
Not minding her manners, Elizabeth burst out of the carriage, leapt onto the muddy land and pushed aside the wall of bodies hindering her view of what's actually going on.
- Ssshhh…
In contrast to the echoing raindrops she'd been hearing over the past hour on her way here, the water falling onto the house in front of her was positively boiling.
Even a few feet before touching any solid surface, every water droplet was visibly smoking, before completely evaporating once they landed.
Indeed, Mortlake had been burnt to the ground.
Elizabeth heard several disbelieving gasps from around her, and she found herself speechless.
After a while, she gathered herself and solemnly commanded, "Excavate the area and search for clues. Standard procedures all 'round."
Even from where she's standing – barely into the main driveway and thus away from the main building – she could feel the heat already beginning to build up on every inch of exposed skin. Employing all the Reinforcement she could muster with her meagre magical talent, she forced herself to maintain position and endure the tell-tale sensation of initial blistering. She wrestled an umbrella from the appointed assistant, shooing him to join his colleagues in covering more ground. The era of England's ruler being able to push apart rainwater in a sphere around them had passed, along with the blessing of the Dragon's Heritage.
"Don't bother."
The Queen of England stiffened.
The group only left behind one person on bodyguard duty, such was Elizabeth's haste to check whether her mentor was still alive or not. To be honest, even said person expected nothing more than becoming a meatshield should anything happen, as was the norm in this unusual circumstance when security was maintained to a minimum. There's no sense in withholding the strongest member at one particular task for the sake of a supervisor who'd contribute nothing more than a few base instructions.
However, Elizabeth recognized this voice very well.
And this person wouldn't even blink even if Elizabeth was securely behind the British Empire's entire naval fleet.
Realizing something was wrong with their queen, the men stopped their search and abruptly turned around, their training commanding their bodies tensely and ready to pounce. Still, merely a split second later, they shared their queen's reactions and halted.
There was no point. As was previously discussed, not even Britain's whole military might could safeguard Elizabeth from this person.
Ironically, they were the queen's own namesake.
Swallowing hard, Elizabeth garnered as much impotent venom as she could into her question. "Did you do this, Countess Bathory?"
The white-haired buxom woman smiled, palpably so Elizabeth could feel it from behind her head. "What if I did, Your Majesty?"
Elizabeth whirled around to speak face-to-face with Elizabeth. She opened her mouth, but the thoughts whirling inside her head stopped it, forming an agape yet silent expression.
The Hungarian woman smiled. "Yes, exactly that. Absolutely nothing."
Unlike the British contingent, she came alone… and no raindrop approached anywhere inside 10 feet of her, encasing her and the Queen of England in a dry sphere of air. Power roiled off her in droves, even in this restrained state, as her slitted draconic eyes gazed past the older woman, the surrounding men, and straight into the smouldering mansion.
"He's had it coming."
Elizabeth I's hand shot forth and grabbed Elizabeth Bathory's arm before she could turn around and leave. "I'll have an answer from you right here and now, Countess. Don't act like you're in Hungary."
The glare many European rulers dread washed off the youthful woman's casual and unworried expression so easily. "Why is that? Is there any difference between my and your house? What big mouth from one of impure, defective blood."
Elizabeth I had to sharply gesture with her entire arm to prevent her men from dying needlessly. "You're the one who abandoned us. If you're so high-and-mighty, why not take my throne and rule, instead of scurrying back to that cave of yours, little dragon?"
"That's precisely why!" The white-haired young woman laughed, projecting a vicious, yet inhumanly beautiful visage. "The 'throne'… Throne, throne, throne. You and your family always focus on such little things, you've missed an even higher place up the chessboard. Have you not realized that?"
Elizabeth I wasn't ugly by any stretch of imagination – royals demanded the best, and her predecessors, naturally, always chose the most handsome and beautiful as partners – yet one chirping, mocking giggle from Elizabeth Bathory undone every aesthetic standard she had. That was only the fringe effects of the Dragon's Heritage which Britain lost and this woman now held: the presence to change the world around them simply by existing, much like real dragons.
"Can't say anything back? Fufufu… How typical of you." Flicking her white locks behind, despite them being fully dry this whole time under this now-torrential downpour, Elizabeth Bathory chuckled. "Regardless, this teacher of yours had it coming. If it's not me, then someone else would've."
"Someone from the Saintess's tutelage? Will she stop at nothing to destroy all empires she lays her eyes upon?!" The queen hissed, her face scrunching into a sort of hateful frustration at her helpless self – as well as her hapless kingdom – at remembering the Saintess's God-blessed angelic silhouette… right in front of haphazardly-gathered armies against every single global superpower currently in existence. "Are you no more than her puppet?"
The young woman shrugged. "Criticize my teacher all you want – she definitely wouldn't fall as easily as Mr. Dee here did."
"Are you not going to follow them?"
Chiyome looked up from the various scrolls scattered around her workbench… and saw nothing, before realizing she's looking too high up and the person speaking to her barely came up to the edge of her table. Kneeling on her chair to gain some height and peering over, she smiled at the diminutive empress. "Ah, if it isn't Heika. How can I help you?"
"By cutting the formalities, my dear sister-in-law. You've assured me several times this room is definitely private, so why can't you relax in here?" Himiko tilted her head cutely, her jet-black bob hair following her gesture. The movement caused the Yasakani-no-Magatama, now in necklace form, to jiggle around her neck, catching Chiyome's brief attention. "Also, do answer my question."
Seeing the little girl trying her best to make a stern face, the kunoichi had to swallow a cooing giggle and said, "If you're asking whether I'm jealous or not… Personally, I'm not. Nobunaga-sama and Jūbei-chan are wonderful women, and worthy of being by his side." Thinking about her answer a little more, Chiyome then added, "Do note I'm no longer questioning whether it's my place or worthiness to feel jealous or not. I don't want Shirō pinching my cheeks angrily again, because I'm far from chubby there."
Speaking of which, her hands were already extending to threaten Himiko's cheeks. Noticing this fact, she hurriedly backpedalled several short steps – her legs were even shorter than Chiyome's – but failed to escape the kunoichi's Altered lunge.
Those arms extended and wrapped around her gently, feeling as soft as an anaconda's belly… and perhaps twice as strong, since no matter how Himiko struggled, she couldn't loosen this serpentine grip one bit. "M-Mou! R-Release me! I'm your empress, not a doll!"
"Why? Weren't you the one asking to be treated as my sister-in-law? Ufufufu… Now I know why Shirō adores you so much," Chiyome cooed while cradling the empress exactly like what she protested against: a doll. "I'm rather tired, Imōto-chan, so please keep me company for a while."
"Don't follow my stupid brother's example!" Himiko squeaked loudly, completely shedding off the persona she wore in her throne room daily. "I'm just here, worried about you, and this is how you treat me?! Unhand me!"
"Thank you for your concern. Like I said, I was – and am – fine, Heika." Much like how her husband treated her, Chiyome placed her chin on top of Himiko's shorter head. "To flip our roles, how goes your new kunoichi? Do you like her?"
"Do I have to answer that?"
Chiyome paused, before correcting herself, "Sorry, Tatsumi-san's her handler right?" Smiling knowingly, she changed the subject, "Regardless, how goes the communication with Nanban? Do we have a deal?"
Normally, this was a conversation Himiko would have with her ministers – those loyal enough to money they constantly sook to improve Nihon's economical global standings, anyway – but it's always nice to listen from unrelated perspective as well. Besides, Chiyome was one of her family members most familiar with Nanban custom, as well as personal experience in fighting one of its agents.
Ever since then, her internal standing among the royal court had risen, primarily owing to her successful recovery of Yasakani-no-Magatama. Himiko then was able to protect her from further political probing – from where did the Nanbans' Guardian Spirits and Phantasmal Species went, her true allegiance considering her family was still serving under the Takeda Clan, whether she's eligible to make her own decisions at the battlefield given she's sailing not under Nobunaga's name, etc. The usual political hogwash from these glory-hungry elders, really.
Of course, none of them dared try anything overt after the reveal of her husband's membership and standing in the Minamoto Clan. Himiko kept her mouth sealed in regards to any official confirmation – she never even addressed him familiarly in public, maintaining a stern and rigid distance between them – but it didn't stop them from speculating just as much as Nobunaga's opponents.
With the Empress intensifying her efforts to ridding the 'old guard', so to speak, which included the previous shogun's family, the Ashikagas, Kyoto's environment had been rowdy as of late.
"We don't. Despite that, it's still finished," Himiko informed, much to Chiyome's shock. Watching her sister-in-law's face, the little girl continued, "To be more precise, it's more like even though our communication hasn't finished yet, but the other party has already taken action independently. I'm thinking of changing the contents of our negotiation… What do you think?"
Chiyome hummed. "…that's certainly surprisingly fruitful. Should we wait for Shirō to come back? Harima had plenty of connections, and he was tasked to expand and improve our relation with the Nanbans over there, no?"
"We can't wait that long. While the dangers had considerably lessened, yes," Himiko gestured by jingling the numerous tomoes strung along her necklace, "the gains would evaporate if we wait until it's completely safe."
Chiyome observed the little girl, finding the gaze of a wizened adult in her eyes. Amazed at Himiko's ability to switch between personas so quickly – or perhaps, more appropriately, merge them seamlessly together – she gave her acknowledgement, "I understand. Considering your earlier question, do you want me to go over there myself as reinforcement?"
"Didn't Danzō-san go there already? I assume her team has already arrived," the girl queried.
"Well… Let's just say I'll make it a trip to check on my husband. You're worried about him, right?"
Himiko's cheeks flared bright red. "W-Who cares about that dumb brother?! A man who makes a woman like you worry isn't worthy of your attention!"
- Pat. Pat.
"Yes, yes."
"I'm serious!"
- Pat. Pat.
"Yes, yes."
"Muuuuuuuuuuuuuuu!"
That night, underneath the Imperial Castle, Chiyome finished up her regular ritual and responsibility as a miko.
A naturally expensive endeavour, as not even the Minamoto Clan was allowed to have sarcophagi in it owing to the resources such an endeavour required to create a completely safe space. Because other sacred grounds were available, the royal family usually used those for rather… mundane things.
Keeping and maintaining Noble Phantasms and Mystic Codes, on the other hand, was a different matter entirely. Some of these were in fact the remains of each powerful member of the clan, their gravestones in another complex being merely placeholders and red herrings for prospective grave robbers. The ruse was completed after those spots were placed in major leyline junctions – the so-called 'Dragon's Veins', according to Ming language – so as to mimic true spiritual lands, even though the Imperial Castle siphoned most of the effective magic density for its various operations.
One of them was several VIP caverns for use by various people, such as Chiyome, to perform their training and other necessities.
Considering she was the miko for one of Nihon's foremost Divine Beasts, the royal family rushed to accommodate her once she was released from her family's grasp. It's been the dream of most rulers to consolidate power under their thumb, but various attempts had always resulted in various revolts. Eventually, after countless needless deaths, they settled on maintaining a compromise between the royalty and nobility – the latter might keep their talents and local autonomy, but for the sake of the collective good, would unite and bow to the former if they're all threatened.
It didn't finish this problem forever, but it's a good enough compromise.
Chiyome's case was uniquely easy, considering her relationship with royalty – and the Minamoto Clan to an extent. In fact, it could be argued she's still blood, given she's a direct line descendant from Shuten-dōji, who in turn was a close ancestor to one of the Minamoto matriarchs in Yorimitsu. The lineage might be different, but the fact she's perfectly compatible with Yamata-no-Orochi proved her blood's quality beyond doubt.
"Leaving tomorrow?"
"No; soon, Great Ancestor," Chiyome answered with closed eyes, this time unbothered by her old need of formality and demureness which usually manifested in the form of comically sudden bows. "I was just about to finish up… Travelling at night would be a great test of my current skills, even though it's so elementary when I first learnt it."
She heard the oni's silent footsteps walking in circles around her, but detected something rather unusual.
"You're out of your hibernation early, Great Ancestor… Have you made a breakthrough?"
One of her improved abilities after her latest 'moulting' was the extradimensional visual sensory capability her husband most often had with his Pure Eyes. Before, one of the boons of her serpentine nature was heat vision – certainly a great addition to any shinobi's arsenal. However, it was rudimentary and was outright a liability when situations demanded accuracy… which she was most often placed in.
This time, even her elusive Great Ancestor could be easily tracked, down to her thinnest outermost layer.
Incidentally, it also detected magical aura sharper than before, leading to Chiyome's earlier question.
"Well, aren't we family? It seems your moulting coincided with mine."
The usual dark, sultry sweetness in her tone was replaced by a sharper, more commanding boom, even though the voice remained the same.
Chiyome opened her eyes, already having certain expectations of the change due to the 'shape' change when viewed through her improved senses. Sure enough, Shuten-dōji's lustrous black hair was now fully white, but her skin tone followed an opposite route into a healthy tan. Still retaining her short stature, to be frank, Chiyome thought she became more adorable.
However, the oni appeared to want momentary disclosure, and quickly reverted back to her original, familiar form.
"The form of Ibuki-daimyōjin…? Was it because of Kusanagi-no-Tsurugi?"
Shutten-dōji laughed, faking a sore shoulder and hammering on it lightly with a fist. "Ahaha… Your husband really went all-out if it's to defend you, it seems. Even though it's a Projection, its presence was enough to trigger my recovery faster across dimensions. You didn't even use it, did you?"
Slightly confused, Chiyome shook her head. "The situation didn't demand it. While I don't doubt Shirō could use it to overwhelm Ouroboros, it'd just be deadweight if I couldn't extract its full potential against a Divine Beast at that calibre."
"And that's a correct decision. Hmm… I wonder if I was the one wielding it, would I be able to contend with that elder? Ufufu… how intriguing."
Chiyome felt a cold sweat forming on her forehead. "Great Ancestor… Don't tell me you're planning to wreak havoc like old times again?"
Shutten-dōji smirked. "Why not? I've recovered well… Oh, don't give me that look, Chiyome-chan," she playfully scolded after seeing the worried gaze from the younger girl, "If I'm this well already, then you can assume Otakemaru will soon recover. We need all the help we can get, no? Certainly, when now your faction has so much on its plate."
"'My' faction, Great Ancestor? Aren't you oversimplifying things?"
"Ahahaha, don't be so sensitive! When you've lived as long as me, the struggles and squabbles of you folk looked nothing more than child's play." Waving her hand around, Shuten-dōji added, "I understand you've more than noticed the bigger things, but are they on top of your priority? Then, let this grandma deal with things outside of that Kippōshi-chan's 'Tenka Fubu'."
Sighing, Chiyome replied, "Haaa… Great Ancestor, I appreciate your eagerness… But how nice it'll be if we're really a faction united like you described."
"See? Petty fights and arguments. That's all you have, ever since when I was young. In fact – I'm not sure you know this or not – what Yoritomo and Yoshitsune did was merely tyranny, and not entirely 'everyone holding hands together happily'. Do you understand?" Shuten-dōji bent her body slightly to be eye-level with the still-sitting Chiyome. "They forcibly shoved the idea of 'tolerance' and 'cooperation' down everyone's throat, slashing those who disagreed like Otakemaru, while wearing masks of liberators and peacekeepers as they beheaded people left and right."
The girl closed her eyes. "…yes, I do know that. That's precisely why we have the responsibility to maintain the right things, and make things right if they go awry."
The oni smirked. "I'm not saying I disagree with their approach… After all, I, too, participated in their sins and was one of their progenitors. We're not innocent. If you understand that much, then perhaps you can master my father's powers completely, after all." She suddenly placed a finger to her sexy thin lips, before asking, "Speaking of which… How was he? Did you have any issues controlling him?"
Chiyome instinctively wanted to answer, but held her tongue for a few more seconds before cautiously asking, "…shouldn't you be asking whether he's well or not? Or digging if he'll break free of my body soon?"
The only thing she received in return was an impish smile. "You'll understand later when you have a daughter. She can't wait until she's out of your supervision!"
"…that's… remarkably human of you, Great Ancestor," Chiyome sarcastically commented. "I thought you've gone away from worrying such 'tiny things'… O-Owowowowowowow!"
- Stretch…
"Gunununu… Why have your mouth grown as cheeky as Shirō?! Where's the cute demure girl of years past?!" Shuten-dōji comically lamented while pinching both of Chiyome's cheeks. What's not comical was how inhumanely long said flesh was able to stretch, much like rubber. "Don't criticize me, you hear?!"
In a display of stubborn resistance, Chiyome puffed her mouth as best she could through Shuten-dōji's fingers and tearful eyes, staying silent despite the playful, inconsiderable pain.
After the two lithe ladies squabbled for the next few minutes, including some mimicry of ancient beasts wrestling, the younger girl spoke through panted breath, "D-Don't you have somewhere else to be, G-Great Ancestor…?!"
"I-I can say the s-same for you…!" Shuten-dōji summoned a few large wine blobs to clean both their bodies, smeared at places with dirt and covered in sweat. While there were men out there who enjoyed these two proclivities, it's always best to play it safe when going out in public. "G-Go to your husband's side! S-Shoo! Shoo!"
That night, the cavern they're in became witness of its nth titanic battle in its history, though thankfully the Imperial Castle's creator was skilled enough to erect a barrier preventing excessive damage which could be maintained over a long time. While not to the realm of a Noble Phantasm, this structure by itself could qualify as a high-class Mystic Code. Renovations were underway to shift the walls away from physical barrier to dimensional ones so as to fit more rooms in there without the need of compromising the entire structure's strength, though it's a slow going due to what it contained.
In it, the supposed 'graves' of Nihon's Three Calamities lay, still nothing more than placeholders, though they carried the risk of being used as catalysts for the real deal's summoning. For instance, here was Shuten-dōji strutting along very well indeed after her 'hibernation' in this place, and Tamamo-no-Mae was dutifully watching this nation of hers alongside the Empress. The onmyōjis had taken great care to sever the connection between Otakemaru's real holding place and his 'grave' here, but the planned renovation threatened that. Therefore, they had to tread carefully.
Chiyome chose to move her shrine here mostly due to its spiritual density, though also for security. In many other kingdoms, a monarch was rarely a dictator owing to the latter's spotty history and perchance of getting stabbed in the back. Holding an iron fist on major decisions while allowing retainers decide perfectly on minor ones was a tricky balance to achieve, only done in 'golden eras' of said kingdoms. Perhaps, in another reality, Nihon was also like this.
However, while Himiko was a perfectly capable ruler – more impressive of what she was able to achieve, really, with the subpar retainers who usually did nothing but hold her back – this theory didn't really apply perfectly on her, owing to her Minamoto Clan's consistently overwhelming excellence. As such, she never really needed to make the hard decisions as her family members were able to give optimal results every single time. Shirō was a major example, but the Mutsu Clan, in-laws like Chiyome and Danzō, elders like Shuten-dōji – all were nothing less than weapons of mass destruction at any area Himiko wished for them to tackle.
'Have people already realized Kippōshi-san is the chosen one?' Chiyome mulled, not realizing she's gotten used to calling the Oda Princess General so familiarly already. It's something Nobunaga herself insisted upon their first meeting – the moment Shirō dropped the news they're getting married – despite having guilt over the jealousy of having her childhood friend and crush marry another girl right in front of her. Such magnanimity earned her Chiyome's respect… and eventually enough affection to approve of her continuing relationship with her husband. 'I wonder what extreme measures they'll take…'
Of course, it's not as if Himiko could publicly say that. Her unquestioned authority among the various family clan heads was only there due to their trust in her neutrality. Well, even that's relative, but so long as she didn't outright sponsor one side or the other, they wouldn't make a ruckus and attempt to remove her from the throne, knowing full well it's a suicidal move. If that happened, despite her family's ability to exterminate every single opponent coming their way, what's there left to rule? A wasteland, formerly known as Nihon?
A true dilemma – the convenience of having nothing but puppets and desert to lord over, or the risky happiness of trying to blend various opinions and beliefs among a full-colour population?
As she mulled over that, she noticed her travel's preparation was complete. As expected of most kunoichis, she packed light with only the necessities. After all, it's not like she or her husband was short on money, and could buy any luxury she wanted at the moment wherever possible instead of having to lug it around.
Besides, no matter how much clothes she brought, they'd likely get torn apart anyway when her husband lusted after her body. While he was more hesitant and meticulous in the past, when she revealed she had no issues with it – and perhaps clued she derived a certain sense of pleasure from certain barbaric acts – he at times lost restraint and damaged countless expensive kimonos and battle suits… and 'other costumes' she procured specifically for sex.
It's rather strange how quickly her perception of polygamy changed. When she was young, she understood the concept existed, but silently wished she'd live out her dream monogamous marriage, much like some of the stories she adored. Nihon's history showed this was rarely the case in those history scrolls she read… but a girl could dream.
It had been drilled into her since she was young, after all. Her life would be dedicated solely to containing and appeasing Yamata-no-Orochi, and married off to an affluent noble to strengthen the Kōga Clan's prestige, then breed more mikos for the serpent god to choose as his next host. Selfish thoughts were banned – at times literally beaten out of her – because her duty was related to Nihon's and its people's safety and livelihood.
Knowing her elders did so through gritted teeth didn't help her anger and resentment in the slightest. So what if there's no other choice? If they cared for her enough, then shouldn't that be motivation enough for them to make another choice possible? To get strong enough even more choices were available to them?
Her husband showed it's possible, so she wouldn't take the aforementioned reasons as excuses.
Having grown up, she now saw the naivety of her young self's thoughts, though still she couldn't wash away that resentment with understanding. Yes, she merely understood now, but in a different way than her aspirations of marriage then. Acceptance? That's still a long way away.
Perhaps her parents understood this the most, and allowed her marriage until now unopposed and untroubled. She'd seen plenty of examples of the contrary during her missions, so at least there's something she could feel grateful about.
By the time she came to this conclusion, she's already halfway to Harima. Forgoing horses in favour of training her new form, her lithe serpentine figure shot through the darkness with alarming speed – ironically finding more freedom at her location now than the skies she took to so frequently in her life up to now. Much like most of her summons, she's now tunnelling through the earth swiftly… well, perhaps calling it 'swimming' was a more appropriate description.
A combination of [Earth] and Alteration Magecraft made it easy. Yes, the real thing had much more components to it, but this Living Weapon form automated so much of the small processes all she had to worry about were these two. Now she could feel how animals and yōkais preferred their natural habitats, along with how easily they manipulate their surroundings – much the same way human culture was seen just as alien to them prior to the human-yōkai pact.
To the current her, this was nearly as easy as breathing.
Of course, those who dabbled in martial arts would protest how 'breathing' was the most difficult thing to master. Such was the ease they're doing it since birth, the intricacies and full potential were lost and taken for granted, leaving aspects like this forgotten and discarded. She shared this sentiment, now she had a taste of both worlds.
Not yōkai, yet freely using yōkai powers. Not Shiftling, yet freely trotting between the two worlds. Not human, yet was able to fully embrace the happiness of being human.
So, what was she really? She'd assumed so much role lately even she got confused at times.
Just Chiyome.
Not 'Sengo'. Not 'Mochizuki'. Not 'Koga'. Not 'Takeda'.
'I wonder how Shirō will tease me if he finds out about this insignificant internal debate?' She silently mused.
Going back to the original topic… everything was going well, really. Despite what Shuten-dōji forewarned and summarily dismissed, she enjoyed dabbling in politics… primarily because she could reap so much rewards with so little involvement. Nobunaga and Himiko did most of the difficult stuff – thinking – so the people around them: retainers, family members, colleagues, allies, etc. could benefit. That's the reason why the Owari Princess General had been hogging her husband so much lately because of the stress, having not foreseen the great challenge laying in front of her successes.
To that, Chiyome didn't have much issue. So long as the incoming baby was treated properly…
'Come to think of it, should I get pregnant…?'
A dangerous thought, so much so she let it go so quickly. In the middle of chaotic times, indefensible children were merely victims and never the benefactor. This didn't even account for the seven months – at the very least – of total inaction. Chiyome knew her worth and skills, and realized their group wouldn't be able to bear an absence like this when 'Tenka Fubu' was so close at hand.
It's a sentiment the girls around Shirō shared, though as usual, even she as the instigator of this commitment at times forgot it when drowning in the pleasures of sex. After all, who could resist after having one's own womb knocked open so many times, feeling the impatient throbbing cockhead desperate to shoot its contents into one's stomach?
Just the thought of that made her wet in this serpentine form.
Unlike Yamata-no-Orochi, her Living Weapon was closer to the form her Great Ancestor showed earlier: pure white unblemished scales, glowing under smalles moonlight. It made for terrible Presence Concealment, yes – though this fact seemingly never stopped the rowdy and mischievous Shuten-dōji from sneaking around – but it's something she's eager to show her husband after that embarrassing moulting episode. It's partially also Shirohami's influence, who was of course pure white.
Speaking of which, the female snake had been silent lately…
[It's because I was disturbed with your constantly horny thoughts, my good master.]
The sudden snarky comment nearly made her tumble and shoot out of the ground.
[What? Do you expect me to be merely an obedient partner?] Shirohami hummed. [Don't forget what happened to Dōsan… though I do hope he's doing well right now. He's simply never suited to a battlefield of this level.] Hissing pleasantly, she added, [You've raised my expectations so much… So please don't embarrass me.]
'I-I can't help it, okay?! W-What I mean is…!'
[Yes, yes, you want to keep bragging about your husband – I understand.] The snake telepathically nodded sagely inside Chiyome's head. [He's certainly the finest mate I can think of. Of this, you have not chose wrong.]
'N-No! listen to mee, you…!'
[No, you listen to me. Haven't you bragged earlier how you've grown up and 'understand' things? When will you stop acting like a gibberish young maiden when it comes to the matter of your husband and speak up properly?] Shirohami's tone was even, but strict and stern. [I've been forced to steer our body as you blush heavily enough to burn the earth we're in, you know? You're not Nobunaga-san, so quit copying her trademark.]
Chiyome babbled on some defence, but soon realized most of the things said was the painful truth. While she'd conditioned herself to be tolerant of such method of advice-giving, it didn't mean she could stay silent about it. 'Why not? I was doing well until you interrupted, Shirohami-san. I was merely wondering where these sage advices of yours had gone to lately. Surely, thoughts of worldly desire were far too simple to affect you?'
[Aha, there's the sarcasm. Welcome back, little one,] Shirohami admitted, backing off. [Still, do answer my question: What will you do if trouble comes involving your husband, and you can't do anything but watch?]
Unsure of the answer to that, the two of them continued on to Harima, debating back-and-forth of the various options she had.