What's up, everyone! Glad you all liked last chapter's M-rated scenes! Here's some more! Of course, enjoy responsibly — aaannnddd that's all the warning you guys'll have (seriously, all of you who've read this far and followed me for so long needs this warning?)!
On other note, I'm glad things are going back to normal, at least in terms of media. There's a lot of great animes and LNs coming up soon... but where's Nasu & TYPE-MOON in all of this?! Heaven's Feel Part III... coming out in AUGUST?! Why not today?! Sheesh...
Now, some AU explanation: As in Oda Nobuna no Yabō, most historical characters' ages will be tweaked to fit the story better. Additionally, there will be a lot of May-December Romance going on, given the times. You're warned. Of course, discussion is welcome, as you can see in the Mailbag below!
Here they come!
Dimihd: What's coming? ;) Hanbei will appear, though I'm not sure how big her role will be in-story. Regarding the character tags, it's unfortunate vanilla FSN writers still have to request for them to be added there. Currently, it's only for crossover categories.
superpierce: That's a mistake I made in both HV-S01 & S02. It's not as wholesome an experience if the male partner is always this sex god who doesn't react much to their partners' actions. In-story, I'll excuse it by explaining the more he's deployed, the closer to a human emotion and sensation he gets - therefore achieving the opposite effect when it comes to sexual acts.
Dimihd: Glad you find it useful!
Royal Freshness12345: I did do italics, though maybe I should use bold letters more. Since I've started adding long ANs, I kind of find using bold rather hurts my eyes if used too much. Dunno; maybe it's just me reading too many crappy Naruto & Bleach fanfics who use it all the time to differentiate various characters speaking.
xavier0jim: Yeah, I have to admit that's one of my twisted fantasies when Danzō's design first came out. Hope you enjoyed it!
SilverZ-TenoriO: Not sure whether you're complimenting or criticizing me, there... so I'll just assume it's a compliment! Yes, I'm aiming for longer and longer chapters the more stories I pump out.
KRKing: Sorry for not being able to reply to you via PM, since FFn decided your message is unviewable to me. Thank you for the enthusiasm for Chiyome; she'll get a lot of screentime, that's for sure! I'm not knowledgeable enough about Samurai Showdown to write a fanfic about it, so they won't appear, unfortunately. Ryōma and Oryō will appear in a sequel wwaaaaayy down the line, not in this story.
N.B.(s): Check out the Character Sheet Update for the main antagonist at the end!
"Auh… Ah! Ah! Hah~ !"
For Danzō, holding Chiyome in her arms as Shirō was pounding her was perhaps the most definitive answer to the question: "Am I alive?"
The moist, sticky sweat, mixing with her own. Enough body heat to burn through futon – both figuratively and literally – as it made itself apparent on the smaller girl's feverish skin. The combination of sudden coldness from her snake-pattern skin-scale (she never figured out how to properly call them) and the inferno raging down her crotch, pooling on Danzō's thighs. Curtain of black hair slightly longer than her own wiggling under each strand's own consciousness, expressing what its owner felt much more honestly than the mouth and heart could.
After all, sex wasn't something one could easily describe using words, especially for someone who was new to this 'expressing one's feelings' business like Danzō.
"Fuah! Ah~ ! Uah~ ! Ah!"
Chiyome was nestled in front of her body, being piledriven mercilessly by her husband. From her position, she could feel the small body's minute twitches and major spasms, being hammered with force enough to creak the tatami mats below them… Danzō being more of a headrest than a living body.
Her eyes met her lord's for a moment, before he leaned over Chiyome's shoulders and kissed her sweetly, all the while squeezing his dick deep, deep into the priestess's pussy and nearly into her womb. Chiyome's mouth pressed against his muscular chest, muffling her cries at the sudden change in tempo – Danzō understood how grinding one's deep spots slowly could drive a woman crazy as much as quick repetitive strikes against a shallow part.
- Chupo… Chupo… Chupo…
The kiss was chaste and light, but Danzō's processing unit felt fried all the same. It's not enough, however, for her to ignore his hip movements through Chiyome's body, shifting into a methodical, circular grinding instead of jackhammering wildly like earlier.
She had lost track how much this kunoichi had cummed, though. Perhaps it's inconsequential – after tomorrow, this event would be a rarity as their busy lives would ramp up.
- Jyuru! Jyuru! Jyuru!
"MMMMMMMMMGGGGGGGGGGGGGNNNNNNHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"
That last session was ended by Chiyome's muffled scream, as streams of hot semen forcibly ejaculated into her small womb. Having done cunnilingus many times to her, and mimicking her long, snake-like tongue, Danzō knew full well how Chiyome's vaginal structure would warp and twist whenever she had different orgasms, plus the changes into part-cloaca her partial yōkai transformation brought to the sex. She could imagine that tiny womb opening parting open slightly more, welcoming the familiar cock's tip inside the baby space to enable more to come in, instead of flowing back out due to the sheer amount.
"Nyah!" Chiyome inadvertently squeaked when he pulled out, before going limp with hazy eyes. A light trickle of semen flowed out of her hole, not because Shirō only let out a little, but how she instinctively squeezed her vaginal walls shut in the afterglow of her orgasm. As a result, most of the sperm remained in her womb.
- Chu.
Ending the kiss with Danzō, he manoeuvred the two of them to give Chiyome some space to rest.
"L-Lord… I…"
"Hey, haven't we agreed to address each other intimately in private moments?" He asked, smiling. His hands groped her curvy body, causing her to hiss at the still-unfamiliar pleasure spreading through her body from the hotspot below her navel. "I order you, Danzō."
She returned his smile shyly, happily blushing. "…Shirō-san."
"Better."
He hugged her and inserted his penis in one motion, earning a cute groan from the larger girl. This time, she's not modifying her body and allowing her natural state to please him. The more she transformed, the less pleasure she'd receive because of the rearranged nerve endings, so both Shirō and Chiyome only asked her to do so sparingly, wanting her to feel the utmost pleasure a living being could achieve and erase her memories of dulled senses from her old body.
He fit snugly in her, balls-deep, unlike Chiyome's petite body which could only contain about more than three-fourths at a time if he didn't push it in forcibly to the point her belly's distorted.
"Aahn… "
"Let's just take it slow, alright?" He whispered in her ears, to which she nodded.
He initiated short thrusts deep in her soaking wet tunnel, gauging which parts were now her weak point. She rearranged her body so often for her missions that sometimes she forgot to allow enough time for her original form to resettle back, meaning he had to do this every so often. Glad that wasn't actually the case, he moved his lips to suckle her neck and collarbone, slowly creeping down to her hardened nipples.
- Slurp… Nom! Nom!
"S-Shirō-san…! Uh! Ah~ ! Ah! Ah! Haa… Nhaa~ !"
Yes, her body was as close to a natural woman as it could be, but it didn't mean the pleasure he felt was in any way average. In fact…
"Guh!"
- Dobyu! Dobyu!
He came lightly in her, maintaining his short pumps, before her walls stroked his member to full hardness immediately and he could continue stroking her lower side, the one nearer her anus.
"Haa… Haa… Ah, s-so warm, Shirō-san…" she weakly muttered, partially covering her burning face with her forearm. "M-More…"
"Gladly."
- Chu.
Suddenly, her lips were pecked by another smaller pair, revealing itself to be a mischievously smirking Chiyome. "Tag team time~ "
- Squeeze.
"AAAHHH!"
Danzō let out a sharp scream as Chiyome's thin fingers pinched her clitoris. "C-Chiyome…! Mgyah! D-Don't!"
"…I have to agree, Chiyome. H-Haa… S-She's getting too tight…" he groaned, but despite his complaint, he stroked her small rump with his free hand while kneadding Danzō's breast with another. "B-But this may be g-good…!"
"Muu…! Are you saying she feels better than me?!" Chiyome mock-pouted. "Take this, then!"
Ironically, whatever she did only made Danzō tighter and tighter, to the point Shirō instinctively Reinforced his dick to maintain blood circulation.
- Chupu.
Kissing the cute puffed cheeks, he replied while grinding his hips to Danzō's slowly, "Of course not… Geez, don't even joke about that. You know how she takes it."
"…sorry."
However, the person they're concerned about had already had her consciousness blown off from the gentle caresses from the two of them, her tongue lightly coming out limp to one side and drooling. "Ahh… Ahh… Ahh… Ahh… Ahh… Ahh…"
Over this past year, they'd been trying hard to build up Danzō's self-esteem. Giving her stupidly-overpowered upgrades in terms of her physical state and mental processing capabilities had precisely this negative impact – thankfully, nothing else was anything to worry about. She's not looking down on herself whenever she's with other people, too – it's just during these intimate moments, sometimes to an annoying degree.
"Dear husband… I shall do that."
"Be gentle, please."
"Ufufu… Scared?"
Despite everything, she smoothly went around his back and transformed her long tongue. His entire crotch was wet from her own squirts and Danzō's thick white creamy excretion, so she immediately went down without any other preparation. Gently, she grabbed his ass and pressed her lips to his bud, inserting her thin long tongue and twirling it right on his prostate.
- Dobyu! Dobyu! Dobyu!
With a loud grunt and final ejaculation, he collapsed on top of Danzō, as Chiyome snuggled in-between them.
- Smack!
The men in Mino's main castle winced at the familiar flesh-ripping sound. Soon after, a dull 'thud' followed, evidence of Hanbei's young body being thrown around and onto the ground after that slap. It was hard enough to be heard through the private chamber's doors, intentionally unenchanted by Yoshitatsu as a warning to her men as to what would happen if they displeased her.
"U-Ugh… Agh…" Hanbei's pitiful chokes reverberated through the walls… but she held her tears in, knowing crying would only invite more beating on her already-frail body.
Her dull silver hair was dirty from dried blood and dust, before Yoshitatsu's cruel palm grabbed it forcefully to lift her to eye level. "Y-Yoshitatsu-sama… P-Please, I will e-execute your plan… I understand…"
The tall woman's silent glare made her tremble, but her words seemed to have stopped the abuse as the same hand shoved her back down to the floor, slamming her back painfully and causing a dreadful, bloody cough to wreck across her body. "Geho! Hack! Agh…"
With a wave of her arm, the Saitō Princess General summoned her full battle regalia, her eyes shining with a supernatural bright blue. Roughly opening the door, she was greeted by a pair of shocked and nervous guards, whom she eyed lightly before leaving. Deliberately leaving the door open, Hanbei's crumpled form was clear for everyone to see.
Yet, no one dared to step in to help her rise, as Yoshitatsu's eyes and ears were everywhere in this castle.
"Ugh…" Shaking, the little girl placed her palms beneath her and weakly pushed herself up, but her familiar Zenki suddenly appeared and finished the job himself, forcibly summoning himself once Yoshitatsu was gone. "Z-Zenki, I'm fine already…"
"You are foolish," he gently chided, not mincing his words. "You should've left with Dōsan-dono…"
"Hush…" She hissed, eyeing the guards. She knew whatever she said wouldn't be reported, since her plight was sympathized on by almost everyone in Mino, but there's no telling when that dark sorcerer behind Yoshitatsu would appear and reap her soul for his use. "Let's… retire for today."
Still receiving the warm gazes from the guards, Zenki silently chanted a teleportation spell and scurried them away in a cyclone of paper confetti.
Back to her personal room, Hanbei immediately collapsed onto the tatami.
"Hey!" The traditionally-dressed onmyōji familiar rushed forwards to catch her, but the thick blobs of blood from her lungs had stained his white sleeves already. "Deep breaths!"
She tried to smile, but her pallid countenance failed her fake confidence. "Zenki… I-I'm fine… Isn't t-this normal?"
"Don't you say any more words!" He raised his voice, immediately preparing a futon for her to lay onto. Tucking her in, he speedily Projected a talisman and placed it on her forehead. "Don't talk back! Sleep!"
His tension only loosened when her steady breaths were heard – this time without the wheezing so iconic to a damaged lung, fortunately. As a familiar, most of his emotions were suppressed to ease her magic consumption, but seeing how her 'lord' abused her daily just because Hanbei wasn't so willing to sacrifice soldiers for small gains infuriated her.
Occasionally, his palm would glow, scanning his petite master's body for any further injuries. Yoshitatsu was rich, even more so after overthrowing her father, and forced healing elixirs down Hanbei's throat just so she could beat the strategist more without seriously injuring her. How long had Zenki bit his tongue to prevent himself lashing out as he saw that frail, thin body being pummelled by fists and kicks for every little question and challenge?
There was no bruises and scratches, no broken bones and open flesh. Thus, no evidence for outsiders to look into. All they were presented with as Yoshitatsu threw her weight around to cajole local mercenaries and minor daimyos to stand with her was Hanbei's immaculate form. No one would look too closely.
To be honest, he didn't understand why Hanbei didn't escape with Dōsan when she had the chance. What's her motivation? How could she sustain her resolve under almost-daily torture to stay here, still smiling so sweetly at Zenki just like the first day they met? Where did the strength in that small body come from?
Whatever's the cause, the onmyōji had never prayed for a hero so feverishly in this life and the one before.
However, unseen to him, the entity they're so guarded against – and the one preventing them from outright assassinating Yoshitatsu – had grasped a foothold in Hanbei's sleeping mind.
No elixirs. No familiars. No backup.
Here, in her mindscape, all she had was herself.
Ironically, she was far stronger here than in the real world. Unhampered by her sickly physique, any onmyōji worth their salt would have a very robust mindscape… which applied even more to her, since she was ill because of her overly-powerful Magic Circuits constantly overloading her too-narrow pathways. Additionally, Mystery's increasing density often meant she was too sensitive to foreign auras, and entering the yōkai realm would be instantly fatal for her, unlike her familiars.
Doubly-ironic, then, because she had never feared for her life more in this place.
Not under the pain of Yoshitatsu's abuse. Not under the pitying gaze of those soldiers and maids, who never lifted a finger to help because they're weak. Not under Zenki's scrutinizing gaze, threatening to reveal what her heart had kept secret with his caring words. Not after the betrayal of Dōsan, who left her behind just so he could escape…
Why must others expect her to break down? Why did they think she was unable to endure? Hadn't her smile been enough? Did she ever crack under the harsh treatment she received?
'…don't pry to deep, because… I don't know what'll happen if it all spills out…'
In her carefully-crafted mental mindscape, the place with supposedly the highest defence among her personal tri-plane of body, mind, and soul… there was nothing when there's supposedly something. Anything.
In its place appeared a grey-skinned middle-aged man whose face was literally cracking and crumbling off.
He cut an imposing figure despite his bony look. His hair was similarly ashen like his skin, dried and split to the point Hanbei could compare them to dead twigs. A shoddy robe and straw hat made her think they should stink like a corpse, yet she couldn't feel anything emanating from the man.
…which scared her even more, because this was her mindscape.
She wanted to tremble, yet the pressure he emitted wouldn't allow her. At least her physical body could've wet itself, and she could use the sudden sensation of relief and wetness to snap her consciousness back awake, if she was under any kind of hypnotic spell. Yet, here she was, locked down much more effectively than what Yoshitatsu could erect around her, inside her proverbial private palace.
He was holding an intricate but rusty khakkara, which he tapped once.
Hanbei instinctively raised her hands to shield herself, despite knowing full well such actions were meaningless in this level of combat.
The instant she allowed her mindscape to be dominated, it's over.
Slowly, he walked to her, each step accompanied by the intentional ringing of his khakkara's decorative rings.
If this was the real world, her eyes would've brimmed with tears, yet the painful dryness from her illusory eyes couldn't made them tear themselves away from his crimson, triple-pupiled eyes.
Theoretically, physically walking in a mindscape was useless. If one was powerful enough, it's simple to tear space apart and teleport to places. Yes, it'd drain a not-inconsiderable chunk of concentration, but not to the point it'd impact mental combat. The confusion created from such movement could even be used to one's advantage, striking the opponent's mental blind spot and leaving their physical body in a permanent vegetative state outside.
"No… Kashin Koji…"
"How futile," a grating voice, sounding like metal saw-on-saw, shamed her weak plea. "No one can hear you here. No one will save you here. No one wants you, Takenaka-"
- Whoosh!
"You're still as talkative as ever."
At that point, Hanbei's vision was already fully blinded by literal fear. However, she distinctly remembered her saviour's voice: sultry, breathy Kyoto dialect.
Like most war preparation, it all started deep into the night before. Some of the more nervous participants didn't even get a decent sleep since last week, knowing the very first day of combat could be their last. Normally, unbridled people would unleash all their desires like there's no tomorrow – sometimes quite literally – and there's certainly that kind of people in the Oda army.
There was none, however, in the Sengo Corps.
A few years ago, none of them could believe they'd be here in this place and time. Being told to serve under a then-anonymous blacksmith, when they all signed up to attain higher status and possibly being appointed samurais, reeked of collusion. While Nobunaga-sama never quashed the idea Muramasa-sama was sleeping with her, there was no proof once they'd all join – the two's relationship, at least to their understanding, remained as professional as possible. Close, yes, but not over the line.
While more educated people would maintain their suspicion over the years, using the opportunity to dig deeper, these former peasants, artisans, slaves, rōnin, mercenaries, shinobi, etc. had no time to do so. So long as their commander turned out to be competent – and most importantly, paid well and on time – they'd follow him at least until a better opportunity presented itself.
The first night of 'team dinner', as Muramasa-sama called it, blasted their future plans into pieces.
There's no place in Nihon serving food that good.
Just to taste it one more time, they'd follow his orders all the way to hell and back.
And boy, did that phrase accurately describes the first few months of 'training'.
In that period, the only sustenance they're allowed to was the occasional drug-like feasts… and perhaps Muramasa-sama's women. Of course, they didn't dare ogle the latter too much, since there were too many occasions where heads rolled just from the slightest perceived insults.
Still, Chiyome-sama was as kind as the hallowed figure of priestesses were. If one didn't look too deep into her facial disfigurement, she was typical of a refined, perfect traditional wife. Supportive, friendly, objective, and humble, the couple quickly won over their hearts and loyalty, especially after she broke open her 'hidden stash' of alcohol every so often to celebrate and as rewards to those who performed well.
One fool got drunk and requested his reward was to receive Chiyome-sama by himself.
…his dried, preserved genitals still hung over his neck to remind everyone not to push their boundaries. Yes, the couple lords were magnanimous and respectful of their needs, but only to a certain extent. Beyond that, it's the same as declaring their loyalties forfeit and becoming the group's enemy.
Carrot, meet stick.
Unbeknownst to them, they were only the second troops of their kind to be assembled, which combined not only people from all walks of life, but also freely mixing different races together in the same living environment. Ever since the pact, while yōkai and humans intermingle freely on a normal day in the market, there still existed specialization when it came to military groupings for the sake of efficiency. A set of training was designed to improve one group of people – that's all. Creating platoons and legions based on other things were just asking for a long, drawn-out messy resource analysis and psychological assistance.
Shingen was the first to do so in order to create her famed cavalry. Importing a Monstrous Beast-class horse-like figure from Chūgoku and breeding it with high-quality mares she reared since she was small in the plains of Takeda territory, she secured guaranteed top-class mounts to overwhelm others in open warfare.
Of course, if the horse was special, then the rider must be too. This occurred around the time Chiyome first met Muramasa – Shingen was recruiting skilled people regardless of sex, race, or political opinion and coerced them gently to work for her, mostly using a ruse where she would appear in times of need, earning their loyalty with a low price.
Much like what Muramasa was doing, only to a smaller scale. Not that she, or anyone close to him, knew about this side of him. Let Shingen assumed she was the only one – the surprise she'd receive when she found out otherwise, and she was inferior to boot, would be immense.
That's the pride of the current Sengo Troops, ahead of their first proper deployment. The knowledge they're forged and tempered with new techniques found nowhere else was enough to boost their ego into assuming they're #1 everywhere.
'Just don't let Sengo-sama hear one of us say that…' All of them silently agreed to push that same pride down, for fear of future 'training'.
Unbeknownst to them, what they were tempered with wasn't just unique physical regiments. Their leader subtly emphasized another set of values to be instilled within their hearts – that of camaraderie and solidarity. Shockingly, despite having centuries of warfare in its history, Nihon troops all clung onto their personal ideas of 'honour'. If one of their comrades were in danger, and saving him would mean sullying said 'honour', then most of them would choose the latter without hesitation. Those who didn't were slowly ostracized, until their hearts turned black with resentment and transformed themselves into devils.
This applied to both humans and yōkai. The difference in common sense was enough that one insensitive minor words or action would instantly fracture that hard-crafted unity – strong on the outside, thin like eggshells on the inside.
The way Muramasa-sama had set up their training was consistently about burning the impregnable layer separating them, and showed each other what's 'naked' underneath all the fake masks every one of them wore to blend into society.
Hauling impossibly-heavy rocks up a cliff… which was difficult for humans, but not to the Enki race who scaled bare rocks Japanese macaques they mutated from. Rushing across a thin rope bridge would be perilous to Umi-bozus, due to the hemp used shaving off their liquid body, but the agile former human shinobis had no trouble crossing it with their eyes closed.
Who among them would help the other? Who would sacrifice their results for the greater whole? Who was willing to take the risk?
Those who did was richly rewarded… but not before tasting the same basic punishment as the others, because 'all failed if one did'.
Rinse and repeat.
Occasionally, Mitsuhide-sama would pop around and offer some fresh perspectives, which they all dreaded because it'd just inspire Muramasa-sama to utilize more… creative plans for them.
Still, everyone survived. That was already impressive, though that could also because of their small number – easier to keep track and pay meticulous attention to each individual like so.
Now, they're thicker than family. If Muramasa-sama ordered them to twist the necks of their own children, they wouldn't hesitate – but not for the reason one might think. To produce such fanatical soldiers usually necessitated ample brainwashing, using mental and physical materials to 'strip' their reason and 'decorate' them into the wishes of their leaders'.
No, it's simple: trust.
They all trusted Muramasa-sama, that if he ever got to give such order, it'd be for a very good reason yet-known to them. For example, those kids were already replaced by a doppelganger and were aiming for their necks… or infested by parasites which needed to be killed by first snuffing out one's soul connection with the body, before safely healing them later. They're all relatively undereducated – a fact rubbed almost daily to their faces by the sheer variety of dishes Muramasa-sama cooked for them… which most of them couldn't even pronounce properly.
He didn't discriminate when talking about sensitive matters, freely discussing political upheavals among them while they ate. He even took the time to ask for their opinions… which at first they replied with nothing but silence, having not had the chance in their hectic lives to pay attention to things of that scale.
"Form your own opinions. Challenge me. Fight me. Only then will you be complete, and no one will look down on you."
For these low-class people, both human and yōkai, those sentences were like a gospel.
Which leader wished to be dethroned? Most of the time, they'd simply choose to snuff out any potential problems at the bud. No matter how enticing one's potential was, those higher-ups simply didn't have the guts or confidence to make use of them. That was why Nobunaga was considered an idiot – who'd in their right mind would make a blacksmith a personal aide with actual political and military power?
Now, all of those present were confident the name 'Muramasa' would echo in Nihon for eternity… starting now.
- Srrt… Clang! Thud. Srrt… Srrt…
In a rare occasion, the sounds coming out from the Sengo compound's main private bedroom weren't the ecstatic moans of sex and debauchery. Instead, it was a mix of eclectic noises, best summarized as the ones a few people would make when changing clothes and checking equipment.
Chiyome tugged on Shirō's collar incessantly, while Danzō patted his pants for several minutes already in an attempt to make them look immaculate.
"You two… I think that's enough," he declared, slowly pushing them away. "A battle isn't a fashion show, after all."
His wife frowned. "But this will be your debut! You should show everyone you're not just some nobody!" Placing both hands at her hips, it'd look quite menacing if not for her short height, needing her to crane her neck considerably upwards to face her taller husband. "At the very least, don't shame me and those associated with you – especially Nobunaga-sama!"
"Yes, yes."
Danzō uttered from behind him. "Lord… I have finished. Do you need anything else?"
"No, everything's good. You can focus on yourself," he told her, placing a kiss on her forehead as a gratitude.
"Mou! Kiss me too!" Chiyome jumped up and down, much to the other two's chuckling.
- Chu. Chu.
She eventually received a kiss on each cheek from them. "Ehehe…"
"Sheesh… You should pay more attention to yourself first, Chiyome. Here, look – one of your ribbons is misplaced," he sighed, gently fixing the black threads she used both as clothing and combat. She just squirmed happily in place, basking in the attention the redhead was giving her, and raised her arms for him to be able to tie it better. "There; done."
Fortunately, he had a new set of clothing tailor-made for her, and didn't allow her to wear the ones she deemed 'just necessary'. The sight of her naked body wrapped only in fishnets and black ribbons from the knowledge he received from Alaya was stimulating in bed, for sure, but he didn't want her to show more skin than necessary to outsiders. Call him jealous or possessive – they're negative qualities he'd gladly take in and express in his capacity as a Heroic Vessel for him to enjoy the positive ones.
At least the emotional data-gathering exercise was fruitful. The more love he received, the more he could express.
Both Chiyome and Danzo wore quite standard uniforms, similar to their previous uniforms when they were destined to serve other forces. The former's was all black, and the latter preferred it as the background, topped with crimson.
Due to the circumstances of this mission, the still-alluring body-hugging shortened clothes – equipped with even miniskirts foreign to Nanban culture – covered more skin than actually necessary.
To be fair, most shinobis' clothing was exaggerated in modern media. Covering oneself head-to-toe in dark clothing, leaving only one's eyes exposed, would only work whenever there's no one actually looking. True stealth was blending in to the point the target wasn't even aware a shinobi was in front of them, enabling them to execute their tasks with the utmost efficiency. Not only that, but circulation through one's skin was inhibited with full-body clothing, lacking both in freedom of movement and disguise changing speed.
However, what about those people with enough talent and skill it didn't really matter?
Take Shuten-dōji, for example. That was enough of an example.
In fact, she was the one who mentored Chiyome in the basic arts of a kunoichi, before the latter would codify it and teach it to others like Kaede. For anyone who'd seen how Shuten-dōji dressed in daily life – as well as in high-intensity missions – no one would dare claim she's inconspicuous at all. It didn't matter if she's using this energy-efficient, scandalous form or her true, unleashed monstrous form… She just did.
Still, owing to the sensitivity of this upcoming raid, there's no reason to be underprepared. While their beautiful faces might not be known to many, he wouldn't take the chance of someone memorizing their features – very eye-catching, one had to admit – and lived on to spread the information.
- Knock.
The sound of a fist grazing the wooden floor from an imperfect dogeza brought seriousness back into the situation.
"Lord, Lady… The troops are ready," a normal male voice called from beyond the shoji doors.
As soon as he came, he left, knowing many… personal interactions often happened without warning or a shred of shame. Chiyome's hidden feral side, owing to the nature of her captive, as well as Danzō's clueless, robotic persona had created many, many misunderstandings uncorrected to their underlings. No sense in risking one's life to maintain protocol when the master of this compound usually wished to be left alone as much as possible.
However, this time, what he assumed didn't happen, as both ladies simply pulled up their lower face mask and nodded silently once, disappearing from sight with their respective movement skills.
Clenching and unclenching his fist, the left-alone Muramasa muttered, "Otakemaru… You've made a mistake."
"Why are you still here? Scram! Shoo! Shoo!"
Childishly, Nagao Kagetora waved her slender hand at the silent Fūma Kōtarō, who was watching down nearby from on top of a tree branch. Her subordinates were trying to calm her down – given the generous allowance the Hōjō Clan had given them, antagonizing those it sent to accompany and supervise them was a bad idea. What if the Fūma shinobi group sent back an unfavourable word and the Hōjō decided to backstab them instead?
Alright, given Kagetora's presence, it's more likely these shinobi would've been slaughtered if they tried. However, word would go out nonetheless, painting the Uesugi Clan in bad light.
Kagetora might not care, but her retainers did. Not because it'd mean their livelihoods would be cut off – a frightening prospect to any adult working member of society – but hers would. As an adopted child and its current Princess General, her standing had always been sketchy. The old nobles and influential people only accepted her strictly because there's no suitable candidate left available, knowing their continued rule depended on her survival and performance.
Naoe Kanetsugu, with her small body, was busily holding back Kagetora's arm which was starting to make rude gestures. Her lord, meanwhile, was sitting there with the impression of playing around with the younger girl, using her arm as a tool, her face smiling tenderly – and inappropriately – as always. "Kagetora-sama! Please, do remember why we are here for!"
"Yes, yes. Kanetsugu-chan, look there!"
"I won't fall for that!"
Shutting her eyes tight, she launched herself at Kagetora's flickering form – an indication she was about to use a movement skill to escape from this temporary entanglement. Predictably, there was no way she could stop 'Bishamonten' if the latter ever got serious, and she ended up being held upside-down by her waist before placed to one side by the still-smiling Kagetora.
"Apologies for having you see such an embarrassing display, Fūma-dono," the Uesugi Princess General bowed, though clearly devoid of any true respect to him or anyone else present.
"Ah! Don't make this about me! Mou!" Kanetsugu pouted, jumping up and down and shaking her black twin buns this way and that. "Fūma-dono, please ignore her!"
The small group laughed at the usual entertainment skit performed between their beloved lord and her closest retainer… who was more akin to a constantly-bullied younger sister than an actual page. The men present – mostly humans, with yōkai filling a lower position as support troops and physical labour – all adored Kagetora for her beauty, since their showing of unbridled lust at her was usually responded by a friendly laugh, making them feel they had somewhat of a chance.
Even though her clan's treatment of yōkai was one of the most… traditional among current powers, they held little intention to rebel precisely because of this infatuation. Yes, her ethereal white-haired beauty helped, but to them, her martial prowess when they all challenged her altogether when she was still a child, thinking they could take her hostage and improve their livelihoods, and was summarily defeated without her taking a scratch.
The sight of a young girl wielding a naginata triple her size would strike the fear of god into any person, much less the strength-respecting yōkai.
However, from Kōtarō's point of view, this smiling, cat-like girl… was nothing more than a monster, far more frightening than any stories these yōkai chatting below him could conjure from their experience in the Reverse Side of the World. Personally, he himself had never been there, but the records from his predecessors were clear on one thing: the two worlds, which weren't supposed to merge, had actually done so.
It made him respect the strength of the current Shogunate's ancestors, who achieved this feat against fate and natural order.
- Static…
"Ugh…" He held his head in one palm at the sudden piercing headache, though he managed to muffle his pained voice well enough only Kagetora noticed. Knowing she'd care less about his plight if it's not about her upcoming battle with Nobunaga, he took a few moments to compose himself, before disappearing into the night.
A shinobi required skill to move independently and in groups, with weakness in either being intolerable. This was more so for every Kage, to whom their subordinates viewed with adoration and near-worship.
- Static! Static! Static!
"Mgh…"
He gritted his teeth at the dull throbs – they're getting more and more frequent lately. He theorized this was due to the stoppage of using boosting drugs, removing it from his diet once he achieved a certain level of mastery without using them. Overdosage was the sign of inexperienced and arrogant shinobi – and Kōtarō didn't wish to be remembered as someone such.
…or was it something else? As the Fūma leader, he knew full well his body was at the peak of what's possible from the 'nurturing' his clan granted him since he was a child. Naturally, flushing out drug aftereffects should be child's play – an offshoot of Anti-Poison skills taught to every jōnin's body.
'As a child, huh…' A part of the sentence in his mind caught his attention, causing him to pause in his jog through the foliage, among the leaves and branches. 'I wonder… Why am I still attached?'
Life and death were the natural order to things. Those who dared defy them would inevitably receive great burden from the universe, before eventually [Fate] would step in and eradicate them using whatever method possible. 'Kōtarō' was one such attempt which failed – because Shodaime-sama couldn't achieve it through his experiments, thus his successors would have to carry his name to evoke a faux-immortality.
This Kōtarō was grateful to only one of those experiments' results… and now she'd perished.
Stopping at a particularly open branch bathed in dim moonlight – it's a half-moon tonight – he sat down with his back leaning against the tree trunks.
He had little worry about the Uesugi guerrilla troops' safety. First of all, no one there in particular was of value apart from Kagetora… and those who chose to ambush them should worry about themselves first if they targeted her. Secondly, he didn't come here alone. Despite his insistence and confidence in his skills, Hōjō Ujiyasu ordered him to be accompanied by some of his most trusted chūnins, leaving the jōnins to run the place in his absence back in Hōjō Clan territory. Therefore, he could calmly take a random stroll like this, unhindered by his actual mission.
Ujiyasu also wasn't the type to be bogged down in the details so long as the outcome satisfied her. She'd become a demon if anyone actually failed her, though.
- Static…
The headache had mostly subsided. Fortunately, it didn't impair most of his muscle memory, allowing him to dash mindlessly on treetops in the middle of the night without looking particularly where he's going.
"I'm still immature…" he criticized himself. Mumbling, he whispered, "I… still need your guidance…"
- Crack.
Well-honed instincts made his hand moved faster than he himself could react, holding a kunai aimed at where the sound came from.
'Beneath?'
From his blinding bangs, he lowered his gaze to the rows of shrubbery being roughly trampled upon.
- Crack. Step… Step. Step. Crack. Step…
The irregular steps told him the intruder was likely heavily injured, at least on one leg, forcing them to limp around. Having the strength to semi-consistently push apart low-lying plants was already good enough, meaning their condition was most likely not yet fatal.
However, he immediately narrowed his eyes once the person's full figure came into view.
Even with the suboptimal lighting, he could see this person was male without Reinforcing his eyes. The pieces of cloth clinging onto his bony, yet tall figure could formerly be a proper robe, but its current state right now was so pitiful it could no longer be categorized as such. A khakkara double as a walking stick while posed half-a-step in front of him as a self-defence tool. What remained of a well-worn straw hat hung behind his neck, chopped apart and fraying at the seams.
It did give Kōtarō a good look at the man's face, and he didn't like what he saw.
'Yōkai… No, a human who forcibly transformed? Or a yōkai depowered into a human avatar?'
Grotesque. That's the first word which came to his mind.
Having seen his fair share of yōkai, he thought he's somewhat knowledgeable about their inhuman features. Yet, it's the closeness to humanity – or yōkai, whichever was more suitable – which made the wrong impression on him. It's just… wrong. Wrong on all accounts… Was that human? Yōkai? Divine being? Devils?
The cracked and inorganic skin. The dried twig-like hair. The shining triple-pupiled crimson eyes.
The latter which was staring right where he's crouching, despite his [Presence Concealment] being fully active.
"Tch…"
The click of the tongue indicated he wasn't threatened by Kōtarō's presence at all.
'No, this wasn't the time to care about my hurt pride. Focus!' He berated himself for reacting at that condescending and somewhat-disappointed noise, taking deep breaths. There's certainly something not right about this situation…
However, the not-human-not-yōkai merely stumbled past, limping and breathing heavily without paying any more attention to the Fūma leader.
A few more steps, and the redhead could hear that person mutter something darkly.
"Shuten… You haven't lost your edge, huh…"
The cackling following that statement sent even the faraway Kagetora into alert, the hair on her nape standing up.
Character Sheet Update!
O
Otakemaru
Title: The Exceptional One
Predicted Class: Saber, Berserker, Avenger
Gender: Male
Height: ?
Weight: ?
Alignment: Chaotic Evil
Strength: A
Endurance: EX
Agility: C
Mana: A+
Luck: C
Noble Phantasm: A++
Class/Personal Skills:
Authority of Beasts: C
An [Anti-Humanity] skill acquired once Otakemaru was 'betrayed' by humanity. Allowing the anger and vengefulness to consume him, it gave him a minor boost against Heroic Spirits, Divine Spirits, and objects made by humans.
Independent Manifestation (Support): B
A derivative of the original skill, in a way Otakemaru himself couldn't apply this skill to himself. Instead, this specialized in granting unsupported continuous existence of a familiar without the usual necessary energy cost by the summoner. This skill gave this 'extension of himself' resistance against [Instant Death]-effect attacks.
Mad Enhancement: EX
Raised basic parameters greatly at the cost of normal reason. However, the latter was a conscious choice when Otakemaru chose to abandon his former ideals to support humanity. Because all he had left to do was destroy those who turned their backs to him, he reasoned there's no need for reason, and thus put it to one side. What remained of his sanity was the single-minded focus of pursuit of humanity's destruction.
Demon of Mutation: B
The physical expression of the tale when a heroic young man was transformed into a demon in life. Regardless of how the details went, this scar from the past emphasized his physical capabilities beyond what's normally possible for someone with his Conceptual Weight. Otakemaru used this edge against his fellow 'Calamities' from the fact they were accepted into humanity, unlike him, making this skill impossible for Tamamo-no-Mae and Shuten-dōji to master.
Yōkai Transformation (Human): A (C)
A basic skill to go to and fro between humanoid and monstrous form, which Otakemaru had long abandoned to assume the latter semi-permanently, leading to the skill's degradation. A corrupted form of [Self-Modification].
Noble Phantasms:
Obsidian Field & Crimson Realm: Failed Protagonist's Self-Expression
Rank: B+
Type: Support, Anti-Army
Max. Targets: 100
Range: 150
Otakemaru's personal Reality Marble, the ultimate version of a regular Yōkai Realm which overturned the Outside World's suppression and laws into a place advantageous to him. When red lilies and wisterias bloomed, it indicated a field feasting on the blood of the fallen was here, pooling in their dying wills and regrets into one condensed cursed land.
It granted a continuous negative penalty on those he considered as 'opponents', greatly reducing physical parameters and invoking mental damage. Any other living being aside from him would be constantly bombarded by Otakemaru's thoughts on that fateful day, when the humans he trusted turned upon him. In his vision, those were the true monsters, and not him.
This Noble Phantasm's rank wasn't as high as it should be because of Otakemaru's unstable ideals and conviction after he descended and embraced his bestial nature. Additionally, actions and objects which shook his mental state might or might not weaken its effects – strong enough victims might resist the [Mental Pollution] negative effects for some time.
Sanmyōken: Triple Heavenly Threat
Rank: EX
Type: Anti-Unit, Anti-Army
Max. Targets: ?
Range: ?
Otakemaru's original triplet of swords, which was currently sealed and held by the bloodline of the Minamoto Clan through Suzuka-gozen's descendants. Daitsūren, Shōtōren, and Kenmyōren – the trio famously wielded by the dancing fox demon princess of Mt. Suzuka were actually attained from Otakemaru's corpse. Them, along with their husband main sword Sohayamaru, were the cornerstones sealing his main body from reviving.
Their passive ability was [Immortality] so long as the three swords weren't destroyed completely. However, even if Otakemaru was at full strength, he lacked the 'humanity' necessary to draw out their full potential, unlike their eventual female wielder, as they're forged by the deities who favoured 'peace among all realms' – one he repeatedly aimed to break. Therefore, their abilities were sealed to him even if he regained them.
Character Description
Otakemaru is considered one of Japan's 'Three Great Calamities', alongside Tamamo-no-Mae and Shuten-dōji. Residing in Mt. Suzuka, he's said to possess great supernatural power: flying, summoning storms, or even raining fire down from the sky.
In the Heian Period, due to refusing to comply with the pact signed to create peace between the realms, he was hunted down and eventually killed by Suzuka-gozen and the team she led, with his remains sealed in Byōdō-in. His three holy swords became his killer's best-known weapon, and it's said he could never truly die so long as the swords existed.
Kashin Koji, the mysterious man whose red eyes each contain three pupils, was really an avatar of Otakemaru. The seal holding his true body weakened due to the ongoing war, allowing a small amount of his Conceptual Weight to merge with a great amount of condensed magic stones, coalescing into the form of the dark sorcerer Kashin Koji. He aimed to set his true form free once again among humanity.
Once, he was a cherished member of a simple human village. Appearing out of nowhere, his helpful and diligent attitude quickly earned him a place in society. However, a series of unexplained accidents was soon blamed on him, since he's the only one who possessed enough spiritual power to perform those heinous acts, and was persecuted. Turning into himself and allowing his bestial nature roam wild, he was eventually defeated by the wielder of a holy sword and retreated to Mt. Suzuka.