"Ha. It truly must have been paranoia. I thought for a moment a rat had found its way into our walls," the official sneered, withdrawing his fleshy, whip-like tail from the shattered masonry. He wiped the dust from his sleeve with a flick of his wrist.
"Revert back to normal, Inoe. Give this old fool some false memories. I am leaving now, there is much to prepare at the capital."
Back in his room, Yorimitsu collapsed against the door, his lungs burning.
"Huff... huff..."
The yellow talisman on his forehead curled into black ash and dissolved into the air. His visibility returned, but his skin was pale, clammy with the cold sweat of a man who had just stood in the jaws of a predator.
"This is bigger than I thought," he whispered, his eyes unfocused as he replayed the scene. "Inoe... he looks just like how Master did when the rot took her. Is there a way to turn people into demons while they still breathe? And Hikaru... so they were after her Divine Body this whole time, I never realised she had one, maybe that is why she is so good at sorcery."
He paced the small room, the wooden floorboards creaking under his light, agitated steps. The weight of his previous ignorance felt like a physical burden.
"I have to purify them sooner. If it's not a simple parasite as I thought, if the soul itself is being rewritten, I'll have to increase the scale of the rite. A simple ritual won't cut it. I need the strength to force the change. I have to hunt that high rank yōkai tonight."
Yorimitsu moved with great efficiency. He reached under his bed, pulling out a hidden jar of congealed yōkai blood and crushed minerals. With a brush made of mountain-cat hair, he began writing. His small hands moved with the steady precision of a man who had inscribed thousands of seals.
He reinforced his blade, the rusted steel soaking up the crimson ink until it hummed. He took his bow and arrows, dipping each arrowhead into a mixture of blood and purified salt, reciting the Strengthening Sutra under his breath.
As he worked, the whispers of the servants outside drifted through the thin walls.
"The officials sure do come around lately, don't they?" one whispered. "Yes, they do. I heard they are trying to force the Young Mistress to marry into a high house in the capital. But for some reason, the Lord keeps refusing."
Yorimitsu paused, an arrow held halfway to the ink. What the hell? Why am I just now finding out about this? Was I really that inattentive in my previous life?
The realisation hit him with a strange warmth. But with this... I can be sure Father is still in there. If he's rejecting their offers even while being hollowed out, he's fighting. He's protecting Hikaru with every scrap of his remaining will.
A new resolve settled in his chest. He sat in the centre of the room, the energy around him solidifying, becoming a dense, visible shimmer. The spiral marks on his palms pulsed a rhythmic, haunting blue. He repeated the action, his small chest rising and falling steadily as he anchored the spirit energy into his marrow.
Finally, the world outside fell into a heavy, midnight dark.
"It is time."
He opened his eyes. The blue glow didn't fade; it retracted, sinking deep into his bones. He leapt from his window, his body a blur of motion. He navigated the estate's wards—the very wards he would one day help design slipping through the gaps like a shadow. Within moments, the oppressive atmosphere of the Minamoto compound was behind him.
As Yorimitsu slipped over the outer wall, he cast one final look back at the Minamoto Compound. In the moonlight, the estate looked less like a home and more like a sprawling, white-walled fortress.
The heavy timber gates were reinforced with iron studs that gleamed like the teeth of a beast, and the rooftops were sharp, sweeping curves of dark tile that seemed to cut the stars.
The air within those walls was stagnant, thick with the scent of ancient wood, cold stone, and the oily, lingering rot of the thing possessing his father. The courtyard, once a place of pride, felt like a cage of white gravel where every footstep was watched by invisible eyes.
The forest was an impenetrable wall of cedar and twisted cypress, their gnarled roots clawing at the earth like the fingers of a buried giant. Here, the air was heavy and wet, smelling of damp moss, decaying leaves, and the sharp, metallic tang of hidden predators.
He stood at the edge of the forest, the ancient trees looming like silent giants. He spoke a short, guttural prayer, then sliced his finger. The blood dripped onto the dry earth.
"Come forth," he whispered.
The blood didn't soak in. It began to swirl, shifting and growing until the earth cracked open. From the fissure, translucent blue, rat-like spirit creatures emerged, their eyes glowing like tiny embers. A hundred of them swarmed at his feet, chittering in a frequency only he could hear.
"Scatter."
At his command, the swarm vanished into the underbrush, each heading in a different direction to map the mountain. Yorimitsu stood perfectly still, his eyes closed, his mind a canvas for the sensory feedback of a hundred tiny spies.
An hour passed in absolute silence. Then, his brow furrowed.
"Mhhh... who could have thought they would find a Hakamadare Nest so close to the border?"
Suddenly, several of the mental links snapped. A sharp pain lanced through his forehead.
"Tch. They are dead. I couldn't get much information from them... since they didn't have a rank, their deaths were inevitable." He opened his eyes, the blue fire within them burning brighter.
He began to run north, his movements slicing through the air. His steps were light, barely disturbing the fallen leaves as he accelerated toward the source of the spiritual disturbance.