This was an era when Oda Nobunaga was still called "the Fool of Owari." During this time, the Ashikaga shoguns of the Muromachi shogunate had grown weak, and political power had gradually shifted into the hands of the Hosokawa clan, who served as the shogun's deputies. Endless power struggles arose as a result.
Frequent wars led to the collapse of order, replaced by rampant banditry and the suffering of the people. Countless lives were lost to war and starvation—an immense tragedy in itself. Yet compared to another threat that endangered the very existence of humankind, such misery seemed almost trivial.
That threat was the existence known as yokai.
Originally, yokai were thought to exist only within tales and night-time stories, but at some unknown point, the monsters that had lived solely in humanity's wildest imagination tore away the thin veil that concealed them and swiftly claimed the throne as the most powerful beings of the age.
Ordinary people could not possibly stand against yokai. Even the weakest of them—beasts that had transformed into yokai—could easily defeat more than three full platoons of heavily armed soldiers. For a small village, encountering even one yokai almost always meant total annihilation.
Eventually, after countless years of blood and tears spent fighting against yokai, humanity finally found its own ways to resist. Out of that dark history arose various organizations and institutions dedicated to the extermination of yokai.
And one such place stood atop an unnamed mountain in the province of Musashi—a village whose sole livelihood was the hunting of demons.
The era in which this village was established had long been forgotten, but it had existed for at least several hundred years. Over time, this "Demon-Hunting Village" gained considerable renown throughout the surrounding regions, attracting a constant stream of visitors seeking help with exorcisms.
Due to its proximity to the forest, most of the village's streets and buildings consisted of low wooden houses. Some of the timber used came from rare trees which, if sold to the local lords' castles, could fetch quite a handsome price. But now, vast amounts of wood had been cut to uniform lengths of around four to five meters—sharpened at one end and deeply driven into the ground. Bound together with thick ropes, these stakes formed a crude defensive wall encircling the village.
The tallest structures in the village were the four-sided wooden watchtowers, each manned at all times by at least two lower-ranked demon hunters. The village's terrain made it easy to defend and hard to attack, and even the ground within had been leveled to prevent burrowing yokai from attacking from below.
At this moment, most of the lower-ranked demon hunters were busy at work. Wearing respirator-like devices, they were cutting apart the corpse of a gigantic centipede yokai, gathering materials the village required. Though the creature was long dead, it still posed a lethal threat to ordinary people.
Especially with insect-type yokai that carried venom—when their bodily fluids came into contact with air, they released an intense stench filled with toxicity. Inhaling even the faintest trace of it could paralyze a person's nervous system, leaving them completely immobilized.
Yet, fighting such a creature was routine for the demon hunters. Even so, injuries and death were daily occurrences.
...
While most were still dissecting the yokai's body, several demon hunters suddenly rushed back from outside the village. After passing through the barrier at the gate, they ran anxiously through the streets in pairs—each group carrying a stretcher.
On the stretchers lay three men, their faces twisted in pain.
At the sight, the other villagers' expressions tightened, and they quickly made way. Some demon hunters who were not occupied decided to follow along. For those who had lived here for decades, such turmoil was hardly unusual—it happened from time to time.
Everyone already guessed what had happened.
The group soon reached a wooden building that stood out from the rest of the village. Most of the houses were single-story, but this one had two floors and was adorned with flower pots along the balcony.
The leading demon hunter banged urgently on the wooden door and shouted loudly:
"Miss Satsuki! It's happened again—please come quickly and take a look!"
A few seconds later, the curtains on the second floor shifted aside, and the shadow of a young girl appeared by the window. She spoke softly down to the people below, "Carry them to the open, well-ventilated area on the west side of the village and wait for me there. I'll be there right away."
The leading man, upon hearing this, immediately turned around, and the group hurried off toward the western side of the village. The few who had followed behind hesitated for a moment, then simply stood there in front of the wooden house, staring blankly at the now-closed window curtains.
"Host, I've never seen you so eager to help these ordinary people. Did a yokai possess you or something?" a childish voice asked softly.
"That's not entirely wrong," the girl replied calmly. "A long time ago, I really was possessed by a yokai."
"Eh? What yokai was it? I've been your system companion for years, so how could I not know that?"
"That yokai was so hideous, I can't even find the right words to describe it. But I do have a way for you to find out what it looked like."
"What way?"
"Look in a mirror."
"..."
A brief silence followed, and then a girl of about eighteen or nineteen stepped out from inside the wooden house.
She was gorgeous and well-proportioned, her figure graceful and exquisite, with long, lustrous black hair—a rarity in this era—flowing down to her lower back. She wore a black long-sleeved kimono with wide hems, a golden sash wrapped around her waist, and jeweled tassels that clinked lightly with each step, producing a pleasant sound. Her attire fluttered gently in the wind, exuding an ethereal aura that made her stand out starkly among those around her.
In her hand, she carried a small basket filled with herbs and tiny ceramic bottles, and as she passed, a faint scent of medicinal herbs and lotus lingered in the air.
Beside her walked a small child who barely reached her waist. The child's gender was indistinguishable—round, rosy cheeks gave them a cherubic look. They had short hair, wore a pale yellow kimono with a simple layer of armor over it, and two fluffy white pom-poms hung adorably from either side of their head.
However, at the moment, the little one's cheeks were puffed up in irritation, turning their head away sulkily, pouting to themselves.
After all, this was the form the system had carefully chosen for itself—and yet its host had the nerve to call it ugly.
—The "Strongest System Across All Worlds" was now angry, and no amount of coaxing would work.
Still, compared to the time when it could admit without hesitation that it lacked intelligence, the system had changed a great deal.
"Miss Satsuki..."
The men waiting outside the door blushed deeply. No matter how much they had mentally prepared themselves, the sight of the girl who stepped out before them completely shattered their composure. Their words tumbled and stumbled, and they looked utterly flustered.
"Hehe, why so nervous, everyone? Since you're free, let's all go together. No need to keep the patients waiting."
Satsuki showed not the slightest trace of embarrassment under their fiery gazes. She had long since grown accustomed to such looks—and besides, her soul had once been that of a man. The instinctive reactions of these creatures were far from foreign to her.
Maintaining a polite yet subtle distance, Satsuki greeted a few of the nearby demon hunters as she walked toward the western side of the village.
It took the men a few moments to come back to their senses. After exchanging awkward smiles, they hurriedly followed after her.
The renowned Demon-Hunting Village naturally did not rely on Satsuki alone as its doctor.
Before Satsuki even arrived, someone was already examining the condition of the wounded.
Old Man Baishao was the most experienced healer in the village when it came to treating such injuries. However, in truth, he was not a professional physician by trade. In his younger days, he had traveled beyond the village and was fortunate enough to study briefly under a wandering shrine maiden from a foreign land, from whom he learned much about medicinal herbs.
Because of this, he could identify many wild plants with healing properties and often prepared simple herbal medicines himself. After returning from his travels, he continued tending to the sick and wounded within the Demon-Hunting Village, gradually mastering the treatment of common injuries and illnesses.
Over time, the demon hunters began referring to him simply as "the doctor," and his home became known as the place where the injured were treated.
His house stood on the western side of the village—one of its safest areas.
At the entrance of Old Man Baishao's home, several men and women were already gathered. Their clothes were patched and worn. Even though they were demon hunters, life in this era was far from luxurious. Most of their time was spent preparing to hunt yokai, which required importing large quantities of food and supplies from the outside. Despite receiving discounts for their trade, the cost of purchasing demon-hunting tools and maintaining their equipment accumulated into a significant expense over the years.
On the open ground nearby, several men lay on stretchers, half-unconscious. The most severely injured among them had his left pant leg completely torn open by something sharp, revealing bloodied muscle and bone beneath. Old Man Baishao was busy wiping away the blood with a damp cloth.
"Miss Satsuki has arrived!"
At the sight of the girl approaching, relief immediately spread across the faces of those present. Even the elderly man tending to the wounds let out a long sigh, clearly glad that help had come.
From the crowd stepped a young man with ordinary features and a calm demeanor. His skin was the deep bronze common among the people of this era, and he wore his hair in the traditional chonmage-like style of the time—slicked back and tied into a small knot at the rear.
Strapped across his back was a peculiar, triangular weapon said to be crafted from the bones of more than fourteen slain yokai. It resembled a massive boomerang, and he called it the "Flying Bone."
To Satsuki, however, its actual lethality was questionable. Perhaps it might work against lesser yokai, but when facing true monsters, such a tool could serve at best as a distraction.
"Sorry to trouble you again today..."
The young man's eyes briefly flickered with excitement and admiration before he quickly concealed it. He knew very well that the woman standing before him was no ordinary person. Even as the leader of the Demon-Hunting Village, he dared not entertain the slightest inappropriate thought.
Awkwardly, he took the small basket from Satsuki's hands, parting the crowd to open a path for her, as if terrified that anyone might accidentally brush against her.
Satsuki walked forward, glancing at the wounded men on the ground. After exchanging a few polite words with Old Man Baishao, she finally spoke, "It seems this time, it's you who's in trouble, Chief. Looks like our demon-hunting squads will have to spend a few more days working in the forest."
The injured were several of the village's upper-ranked demon hunters. The most gravely wounded among them was a man in his twenties—strong and seasoned in hunting yokai. According to those nearby, he and two lower-ranked hunters had been found unconscious during a routine patrol change.
Upper-ranked demon hunters were few in number within the entire village. For someone of his skill to be so gravely injured without even managing to make a sound during the encounter was exceedingly rare.
It wasn't that injuries never happened—but for someone to suffer such severe wounds and still survive was almost unheard of.
This had left the entire village deeply uneasy about the state of the world, for this man was already the nineteenth person in recent months to be injured during patrol by a yokai attack. It was clear evidence that not only were yokai increasing in number—they were growing ever more powerful.
Yokai were not without intelligence. They, too, knew of the existence of the Demon-Hunting Village. For many years, the battles between the two sides had never ceased.
"Another wound like this..."
Satsuki frowned slightly. The thigh wound of the unconscious man on the stretcher was unusual—it appeared as though something sharp, resembling a pair of serrated scissors, had symmetrically sliced through the muscle on both sides of his leg. The two long, ragged wounds were a bloody mess, the color of the blood unnaturally dark, with a viscous substance clinging to it.
From her basket, Satsuki retrieved a small bottle of transparent, pale green liquid and handed it to Old Man Baishao. She instructed him to use half of it to clean the wounds of the three patients, and to mix the remaining half with hot water for them to drink.
Then she gave a subtle look to the demon-hunter chief standing nearby, and the two quietly stepped away toward a large tree outside.
They had barely walked a few steps when sounds of admiration arose from behind them, followed by the pleasant aroma of medicinal herbs filling the air. The scent not only refreshed the mind but also dispelled miasma and purified the lingering yokai energy clinging to the wounded men's bodies.
"Miss Satsuki, this disinfectant of yours is truly remarkable—it can both cleanse wounds and be safely drunk, and it even smells wonderful! I can't imagine what it's made from. Old Baishao has been dying to know," said the chief, half in awe.
Satsuki smiled faintly. "Just a little trick, nothing special... Oh, right. Later, come back with me to fetch some medicinal powder for the patients' wounds."
The chief, unable to meet her gaze directly, replied in a shy tone quite at odds with his age, "Miss Satsuki, you've treated several patients with wounds like these already. How do you judge them? If we could find the cause, it would put everyone at ease. Otherwise, I'm not much of a leader."
"Tch. It's just a few... of them," murmured Ruri—the system—softly from nearby.
The chief, of course, didn't notice.
Satsuki raised a hand, gently running her fingers along the rough bark of the tree beside her. After a moment of thought, she spoke slowly, "I wonder if they might have encountered some kind of unusual yokai."
"Yokai? If that were all, it's hard to believe so many demon hunters could be injured like this in succession," the chief replied, eyes wide. "At first, I thought the same thing, so I personally led teams to search the forest for several days. But we didn't find any trace of yokai energy. And besides, judging from the wounds, they don't look like they were made by any animal's teeth."
"Oh? You think so too—that these weren't caused by an animal's teeth? Then take a look at this."
Satsuki withdrew the hand that had been resting on the tree. Between her slender fingers, she was lightly pinching a small black beetle. From its head extended two long, serrated mandibles that opened and closed with an unsettling motion.