Relying on the super-regeneration of his vampire physique, Araragi Koyomi stood tall once again.
Chunks of rubble were shoved aside. The lingering deep-purple toxic smoke still swirled around him; his corroded, melting flesh was swollen and suppurating, but Araragi simply tore it off and tossed it to the ground.
As Araragi stepped out from the ruins, aside from his clothes—which were riddled with holes from the toxic gas—his body had returned to its normal state, his yellowish skin actually looking a shade fairer than before.
"…No matter how many times I see it, that recovery rate of yours is just cheating," Rikuo grumbled at Araragi, sounding a bit envious. "If I had that kind of healing, I wouldn't even have to worry about getting hurt. Haha, I could even slack off on my training."
"You can't slack on training! Didn't you say yourself that having only recovery just makes me a punching bag?" Araragi shot back, remembering the beatings he took during practice.
"Hahahaha!" Rikuo rubbed the back of his head and let out a bright, boisterous laugh.
He dropped the subject.
"How beautiful... Is this the friendship between yōkai and... whatever you are?" A voice that felt like a snake crawling over one's skin interrupted their banter.
The voice seemed to carry a hint of a smile, but it radiated only bone-chilling cold—an infinite, slick malice.
Before any of the yōkai present could react, a white blur reached out like lightning, snatched the severed white tentacle Rikuo had cut earlier, and dragged it away with agility and strength far exceeding its size. Rikuo's hasty sword-arc struck only empty air.
"What a pity, so very close," a voice said amidst the bone-chilling sound of twisting joints. The Nura Clan yōkai finally saw the figure that had launched the sneak attack with such unexpected speed and cruelty.
He looked exactly like a human, dressed in a purple kimono of ancient style. His black hair was coiled on his shoulders like seaweed, with several strands hanging over his chest, swaying like vipers as if searching for a weakness in Araragi and Rikuo.
He was a handsome man, but looking at his raised right arm—where the last trace of a tentacle was being reabsorbed into his sleeve—it was clear to everyone what a distorted existence lurked beneath that human-like shell.
A body that could twist and deform, possessing both speed and power.
And miasma.
Rikuo signaled his yōkai to back away to avoid being hit by the clearly lethal gas. He noted these two characteristics in his mind and looked at Araragi.
Take him?
Take him!
Catching the exchange of looks between Rikuo and Araragi, the kimono-clad male yōkai smiled thinly. "Wait a moment. We're all yōkai here, aren't we? Can you really trust those humans?"
"I'm not trying to drive a wedge between you, but based on what I've seen on my way here... you probably don't know, do you? Those humans in their little uniforms have been quietly ambushing yōkai. They're packing them away in all sorts of strange containers."
Rikuo's step forward came to a sudden halt.
"Oh? It seems you know quite well that such a thing is possible," the purple-clad yōkai raised an eyebrow. "I'm not talking about the yōkai who just arrived in this world like me, but the ones who are fighting with the humans."
"After all... stabbing a comrade in the back is much easier than a frontal assault," the yōkai said, smiling even wider as he saw his words stir a commotion among the opposing demons. "Who's to say your own companions aren't among them? Why not go and check?"
"W-what?!"
"Supreme Commander!"
"Young Master!"
The Nura Clan yōkai behind Rikuo began to clamor. Such a thought might have been ignored if left unsaid, but once spoken... the mere memory of things that had happened during their time in the city made their hearts sink.
The strange looks humans gave them, the glints of rejection upon discovering "monsters" in their midst, and the minor yōkai who occasionally went missing... Yes, they had indeed found traces of missing yōkai near the humans... Those despicable bastards were certainly capable of this!
The noise behind Rikuo grew louder.
The Nura Clan yōkai had been protected too well. Yōkai are essentially simple creatures; with the exception of those who were once human, most can be described as straightforward—if they have something to say, they say it; if they're unhappy, they fight. Even their villainy is blunt.
Whether the stranger was lying or not, Rikuo knew he had to speak.
In a sense, Rikuo—being only a quarter yōkai—was already distrusted by yōkai outside of the Nura Clan. His heritage even prevented him from manifesting his yōkai form during the day; his ability to fight under the scorching sun now was only thanks to his grandfather, who had begged Think for a protective spell.
Suspicion and infighting could not be allowed to take root—at least, not before this great battle was over.
"You've got a lot of nerve," Rikuo sneered, carving a line into the road with a pulse of sword-light. "You launch a sneak attack on my best brother—if not for his unique abilities, your vile strike would have left him without a bone to his name. And now you have the gall to use these mind games to shake our resolve... Why on earth should we believe a word you say?"
"That's right!"
"If Koyomi wasn't a vampire, he'd be dead right now! I definitely would've been!"
"Why would we believe anything an enemy says?!"
The Nura Clan yōkai had long since grown fond of Araragi Koyomi, the "Western-brand" yōkai who had been hanging around their house. Seeing him smashed into the ruins earlier had left them frantic with worry. Now that they realized the trick, their vigilance toward this new yōkai flared up once more.
Whether or not someone was actually "fishing in troubled waters" was irrelevant for the moment; Rikuo had stabilized the situation.