Chapter 48: Those Who Peer into Darkness Shall Be Peered at by Darkness
As a prestigious family in Kyoto's magical society, the Aoyama clan also had their own dojo in Kyoto.
Though renowned, the Aoyama family didn't appear wealthy to outsiders.
Known for their ascetic lifestyles, formidable strength, and sparse bloodline, they mostly lived on the bare essentials, often engaging in volunteer work.
This behavior, so out of step with the current world, instead earned them a great reputation, and they rarely got entangled in disputes over profit—no matter how shameless someone might be, they couldn't drag the Aoyamas into such matters.
Like her ancestors before her, Aoyama Motoko, the current head of the family, possessed only a sword and a dojo.
Nothing more.
If anything was missing, it was probably a man.
Considering that man was already married, it was indeed unlikely he would appear here again.
The once brash, stubborn girl who scoffed at men had now grown into a mature woman.
Though she and the man she longed for never ended up together, she had a daughter—a consolation for that unfulfilled love.
The only thing that vexed her now was how mischievous her daughter was.
She constantly worried over her.
As expected, during the walk home, she lost sight of her again.
However, the charm on her daughter had not reacted, so there was no danger.
In that case, she'd let her be. It would be too boring for a child her age to be cooped up in the dojo all day.
Motoko returned to her room.
Fresh from a bath, she wore a robe, her full chest softly swaying.
She used to envy her older sister for having such a figure, and now that she had it too, there was no one to offer it to.
The room was simple.
A small table with a tea set, a folded futon, and a suit of samurai armor from the Sengoku era standing by the wall—a genuine artifact.
In the medieval era, the activity of monsters and demons far exceeded modern imagination. There were even incidents of lords and retainers being devoured by yokai and replaced by imposters.
An Aoyama ancestor once slew monsters and subdued demons on the battlefield, and this armor was what he left behind.
Besides that, the only other item was a sword rack, bearing a single long katana, displayed like a sacred relic.
This katana was Motoko's personal sword. She had possessed it for over a decade.
Unlike her predecessors who kept their swords on them at all times, Motoko did not. T
he demonic sword Hyūga was once the nightmare of Kyoto.
It had drifted to Kanto and eventually ended up in her hands because of a certain man.
Now the sword had chosen her as its master. Not just anyone could touch it.
Even from kilometers away, Motoko could summon it at will.
Of course, this was a necessity.
A demonic sword remained a demonic sword—its violent nature was merely suppressed by her. It could always lash back.
But to Motoko, this blade symbolized her most precious memories, so she couldn't bring herself to discard or seal it away.
"Sigh…"
A long sigh escaped Motoko's lips as she looked at the calm blade, a trace of melancholy on her face.
She hadn't expected to meet his son.
Keitar oalways acted like a good-natured guy, but he had zero resistance to temptation in romantic matters—utterly lacking in discipline.
Be a little assertive and he'd fold. On this, Motoko believed she was a solid judge.
Her daughter was merely one of the products of that reality.
But to think she would run into Keitaro's only son today—was that fate?
Her daughter had clearly inherited much of Keitaro's personality. One only had to look at his son to see that.
Placing the sword back on its rack, Motoko stood and exited her room, descending the stairs.
The Aoyama dojo was a traditional Japanese wooden structure, divided into two parts.
One part was the residence—a two-story home with a living room, kitchen, washroom, and bath on the first floor, and bedrooms on the second.
The other part was the dojo itself, situated on the right side of the house.
Above its entrance hung a plaque reading Shinmei-ryū. The dojo was spacious and well-lit.
Its entrance faced west, with a shrine on the eastern wall—sacred ground for the martial tradition of Shinmei-ryū, and a precious legacy passed down through the Aoyama line.
However, since the Aoyamas had never accepted outside disciples, the large dojo had never been lively.
When Motoko arrived at the dojo entrance, she was holding a wooden sword. She slid the door open.
For over a decade, only she and her daughter Keiko had used the dojo. But today, someone who shouldn't be there had appeared.
"A rare guest indeed," Motoko said calmly, as if not surprised.
She stepped inside barefoot onto the wooden floor. After approaching the shrine and paying her respects, she turned to face the uninvited guest.
"Sorry to intrude, Miss Aoyama. But you've certainly kept things hidden well," the man said with a wry smile.
He looked disheveled and unkempt—a scruffy man.
His name was Amakasu Touma.
In Hikigaya's words, he was the kind of guy who was like dog crap—never idle, always making trouble for others if he wasn't already in trouble himself.
"My private affairs are not yours to know, nor do they need to be compiled," Motoko replied coolly, twirling the wooden sword deftly in her hand. "Since you're here, how about a little sparring?"
"No thanks. I'd rather not get beaten up reasonably by you," Amakasu backed away, looking awkward.
Most people wouldn't randomly beat him up, but this woman definitely would. And justifiably, too.
"If there's nothing else, you should leave." Motoko's face held a trace of disappointment and mockery. "As for the incident at Mount Inari, my daughter was indeed involved. I'll write up a report detailing everything for your people."
"No, you misunderstood. We've investigated thoroughly—your daughter wasn't responsible," Amakasu said with a sheepish smile.
Seeing her doubtful expression, he realized she was still in the dark, so he explained further:
"This case of the rogue demon was caused by the King of Rakshasa arriving at Mount Inari. We've contacted all Onmyōji to advise them not to summon their demons during this time to prevent similar incidents."
"King of Rakshasa? A Rakshasa king from the West has come to our country?" Motoko turned back in surprise.
"Yes, and that's why I came to check on the status of Hyūga, the demonic sword," Amakasu nodded.
He carefully avoided bringing up another topic—one that would only complicate things if spoken aloud. Since they were a family, it was better to let them handle it themselves.
"Hyūga is fine. You don't need to worry." Motoko frowned slightly. She was clearly aware that Amakasu was shifting the topic, and that annoyed her. "Those who battle demons must not let their hearts become demons. You peer into darkness, and darkness will peer into you. That is my family's creed—and the foundation of mastering a demonic blade…"
Her words held veiled meaning, and Amakasu, who understood, could only groan inwardly.
He cursed himself for taking this job.
Though his task was now complete, he had clearly incurred Aoyama Motoko's displeasure.
Forced to play it off with more small talk, he eventually made a hasty exit.
Chapter 49: The Excited Amakusa Touma
On Mount Inari, Hikigaya walked along with a sour expression on his face.
He had every right to be sour.
Because he had gone up the mountain alone, single and carefree, and was now coming down as the Turtle Hermit.
Seriously, why was he playing along with this "turtle shell" nonsense? He didn't get it at all. It didn't suit his personality one bit.
There had to be some shady kind of exchange involved in this. Yes, there must be—otherwise, this would be a huge loss!
"After we get down the mountain, take a left. At this time, my mom should be cooking. Hmph, since you're walking me home, I'll treat you to dinner. But don't eat too much, rice prices are up lately," said the "turtle shell" on Hikigaya's back.
"Eat your own head. Shut up already," Hikigaya replied impatiently, moving quickly with long strides.
Twist your back throwing paper balls at mountain spirits, twist your leg fighting people—was this kind of athleticism really suitable for a swordsman?
If she's that amazing, why hasn't she started flying yet?
Hikigaya figured, since the girl wasn't flying, he might as well take off himself.
The air-walking technique favored by martial arts masters? He had fully mastered it now. No—his legs had.
This technique was undeniably impressive: stepping through the air and flying without any special effects.
Most people couldn't even imitate it if they tried.
It was the ultimate cool move for handsome guys trying to show off.
And truth be told, not even seasoned martial artists who knew the air-step could replicate Hikigaya's version.
Because this lunatic had pushed it to the extreme—he was using divine authority to do it.
The essence of air-walking is to vibrate the air beneath one's feet to create lift, allowing short-term levitation, hovering, or gliding—basically a martial arts version of magical flight.
But the air around Hikigaya was vibrating due to a force that was neither martial arts nor magic.
This allowed him to walk in mid-air with effects far surpassing either flight technique.
Frankly speaking, if not for the completely opposing forces protecting her, the girl on his back—Aoyama Keiko—would've exploded into a bloody mist with any of his moves.
Which just goes to show—ignorance really is bliss.
But when Hikigaya, still carrying the girl, arrived at the Aoyama dojo, he saw a very familiar figure walking out of the place.
He remembered—his name was Amakusa Touma.
This guy really had a full schedule. Always popping up everywhere.
Hikigaya kind of envied people like that—those who lived a fulfilling life.
As a sentimental guy himself, he felt compelled to give this guy a little push, help make that life even more fulfilling...
No need for thanks. Don't ask who he is. He's a red scarf-wearing savior of justice!
Thinking this, Hikigaya made a grand entrance—literally descending from the sky to land before Amakusa.
The landing was dramatic: dust flew up and the ground cracked in a spiderweb pattern.
Especially with a person on his back—when he emerged from the swirling dust, it was hard to see clearly at first. It felt like the opening act of "A Turtle Spirit Falls from the Heavens."
Amakusa's expression said it all—he had been scared stiff.
Thinking someone had come to fight, he'd already struck a dramatic battle pose and nearly launched a spell.
Too bad he never got to release it—his vision turned out to be much better than Hikigaya had expected.
"Oh, it's you!" Amakusa quickly adjusted, switching seamlessly from battle stance to a deep 90-degree bow.
Why was he so good at this?
Hikigaya really wanted to ask.
"Ah, what a coincidence," Hikigaya replied with a straight face, having entirely forgotten that he once said he'd beat this guy to death the next time they met.
That was just talk. No way he'd actually go through with it. He wasn't a psycho.
Judging by how nervous Amakusa looked, though, he probably took it seriously.
"Don't be so formal," Hikigaya said in a friendly tone. "If you're angry, you can hit me."
"Please don't joke like that…" Amakusa smiled wryly, backing away several steps.
Because he was really scared...
You don't mess with people who can kill gods.
The world is vast—he hadn't seen enough of it yet!
Then Amakusa noticed the girl on Hikigaya's back—Aoyama Keiko. She remained silent, face calm, watching with an expression that said "You guys go ahead, I'll just watch."
That sent a chill down his spine.
"Oh, so you already know, huh?" Amakusa nodded, flashing a congratulatory grin. "Congratulations!"
"Know what?" Hikigaya looked confused. He set Keiko down from his back. "What the hell did you eat, you're heavy as hell. You can walk now, right?"
"I'm not heavy at all," Keiko landed nimbly but frowned and voiced her displeasure. "Why's this old guy using honorifics with you?"
Amakusa's heart was pounding wildly.
Crap! They haven't acknowledged each other as family yet? That scared the life out of him.
He nearly spilled the beans.
"Tch… can't be bothered to explain. Hey, old man, what did you say earlier?" Hikigaya clicked his tongue, turning back to Amakusa with curiosity.
"Oh, I just meant that you probably already knew about the guardian spirit of Mount Inari going out of control," Amakusa quickly covered.
He seriously wanted to smack himself.
He should have turned this job down. First one mess after another, and now the biggest mess of all.
But thankfully he could still spin it.
"Ah, so it was the guardian," Hikigaya accepted the explanation, though he was now curious. "That's your jurisdiction too? You guys sure stick your noses into everything."
"Well, our job is to compile Japan's official history, and to protect ordinary people. That's our mission."
"Not bad. Sounds noble. Guess I misjudged you guys," Hikigaya said, praising the organization despite knowing the words were BS.
But to him, any group that at least pretended to do good deserved a little respect.
Because as a former normal person himself, he didn't ask for much.
Just don't be some Umbrella Corporation-type evil conglomerate.
He didn't expect them to all be paragons of virtue, but if they couldn't even pretend to be good, that'd be too depressing.
To the average person, hypocritical officials were always better than overt villains.
"Sorry about last time. I was just venting. Don't take it personally," Hikigaya said, feeling more positively now. "Wanna go somewhere and grab a bite?"
"Huh? Really?" Amakusa lit up with excitement.
So excited he looked like Index eating fried rice at Touma Kamijō's house for the first time.
Hikigaya didn't know why the guy was so hyped though.
He really just said it out of politeness, but seeing Amakusa practically ready to commit ritual suicide in gratitude, he couldn't bring himself to take it back.
Fine, whatever. Not like he had anything better to do anyway.