第伍章、喧騒的魔襲
Chapter 5: The Tumultuous Demonic Assault
傍晚的陽光帶著微甜的暖意，像一層薄糖衣般，落在商店街。攤位上鐵板滋滋作響，章魚燒的醬油香與可麗餅的奶油味纏成一股懶洋洋的風。御神櫻捧著剛買的大福，小心咬下一口——軟糯的皮沾著指腹的一點糖粉，紅豆餡在舌尖綻開。她眯起眼，恨不得把這味道收入琥珀，封存起來。
倒影從玻璃櫥窗掠過。她穿著上次「出來」時買的淺色棉質上衣與貼腿牛仔褲，腳上是繫帶的淑女涼鞋，鞋面點綴著小巧的塑膠珍珠，看起來就像任一個週末逛街的女大學生。
瞅著窗中的自己，御神櫻的心，被碰觸了一下。腳步慢下，嘴角牽起珍惜的弧度。時刻將至，在「回去」之前，她要盡情把握，對“俗世”擁抱至最後。
然而，還來不及珍惜至最後一刻的幸福，卻猛地被撕裂。
污濁的冰冷氣息毫無預兆地竄出，惡意像一枚無形冰錐，從她胸腔正中刺入。口中甜味隨著驟然倒抽的一口涼氣，化成苦澀。巷口陰影嗤一聲翻起，街角的光像被揉皺。
御神櫻的腳步猛地頓住，手捏著的大福差點滑落。「不是啊！別這樣吧？偏偏是現在？！」
不情願像潮水猛拍上岸，將剛築好的沙堡剎那沖垮。尖叫聲從街的另一頭炸開，人群開始騷動，恐慌如漣漪般擴散，玻璃因碰撞發出噹噹響。她知道那股熟悉又討厭的震動：妖魔的瘴氣，還不止一頭。
妖魔不會因她的個人願望而有絲毫遲疑。「可惡…就不能讓我好好品味一下幸福的餘韻嗎？完整的休暇，怎麼那麼難呀！」她咬牙切齒地，牙縫裡擠出這句抱怨。美好的心情蕩然無存，取而代之的是無盡的煩躁和深深的無奈。
沒有時間返回神社，甚至沒時間尋找隱蔽完善的角落。她只能轉身一縱，鑽入兩棟建築之間狹窄陰暗的後巷。
「抱歉了，神櫻大人，情況緊急……」她閉上眼，在心中飛快地向體內那位沉默的存在告罪，同時強行衝破神櫻調整後的抑低存在狀態和力量約束。
反撲的浪潮猛烈衝擊御神櫻，抽離感像粗糙的手，把她從自己身體裡拽出。「完整」的“人類女孩”，再次宣告自己與自己分手。
她的頭部開始極不優雅地與頸部分離。匆促、滯澀，帶著明顯的痛和無條理的粗暴切割，不是神社裡那種徐徐展開的神聖儀式。頭顱懸浮在空，如醉酒般飄蕩；配戴的髮圈不是平日用以拘束散亂靈力連結的巫女統靈結髮「御弊」，相似的馬尾卻沒有相似的靈能連結秩序，幾縷靈魂絲線只得倉促地胡亂探出，與肢體的連結閃爍不定，全靠御神櫻的意識艱辛維繫。
頸項處一陣清冷刺痛，彷彿撕裂時仍有未從神櫻上帶走的殘留。頭顱與軀幹分開的瞬間，她清楚感受到那顆「心」發出的機械般脈動：分離啟動，任務為先，損耗可接受。
不是安撫，不是鼓勵，只是毫無溫柔的評估。
更糟糕的是她的「裝備」。靈力於四肢奔騰，但衣料先一步發出抗議。右腿大腿處，慘白的骨刺長鞭試圖成形，牛仔布像被一群小獸惡狠狠地以利爪刺破，伴著難堪的撕裂音。左腿被靈刀的冷光包裹，鋒意一掃，褲管從大腿根部如紙般被切割，變成殘破的布條，可笑地抖動。
來不及換下的牛仔褲褲腳，可憐地掛在腿上，勉強權充作巫女正裝的長襪足袋（御祓足袋「白淨」），卻沒有任何靈力的防護。看起來不倫不類，滑稽又狼狽。
「可惜了……」懸浮的頭顱發出一聲心疼又懊惱的嘖聲。她喜歡的褲子就這樣被宣告了死刑。每一段剝離的布料，都從她「普通人」的願望上割下一塊。
她的雙腳上，俏皮可愛的淑女涼鞋依舊完好，可毫無抓地力和靈力強化，與淨化妖魔正裝的草鞋（破邪草履「神征」）天差地遠，提供不了雙腿兔起凫舉的機動力和踏破污濁的淨化力。
雙臂從貼身薄上衣的袖口脫出，失去巫女正裝（纏神袖衣「鎮靈」）的寬大袖套保護。裸露的手臂線條一覽無餘，顯得孤零零，脆弱感也引發她本能地的不安寒意。指尖夾著的符咒也像是匆忙間從口袋裡抓出來的，數量遠少於平日。
御神櫻意識到，自己正以一種非正規也不莊重的詭異滑稽，進入一場本應嚴肅的見血戰鬥。「非屬神櫻之巫女正裝，應予更換」那顆心再次在她腦中投下句冷冰冰的警示。她忽然想笑，又想哭。
「閉嘴。」她對自己的胸腔——或者對神——幾乎無聲地回擊。
頭部漂浮著，臉上再也找不到平日臨戰時的莊重與虔誠，取而代之的是一雙徹底放棄的死魚眼，空洞的眼神裡寫滿了「怎麼老挑這種時候來？」的無聲控訴和極度厭煩。
巷口外的尖叫更近了。
她不再猶豫。頭顱上升，靈魂絲線繃緊，指令如雨點般灑下。
右腿蹬地，如炮彈般衝出巷口，骨鞭拖出一條慘白弧線；左腿隨之疾走，靈刀薄如蟬翼；雙手夾著有限的符咒，護在頭顱兩側。這支穿著時尚殘骸卻也帶著神性光暈的奇異隊伍，衝入夕陽俯照卻已被恐慌扭曲的街道。
它們在等她。
半人高的蜘蛛妖靈成群攀附在牆面與招牌背後，複眼一顆顆像點燃的紅珠，閃著嗜血的赤光。它們移動時，數十、上百根腿端的微小鉤爪密集觸碰玻璃與金屬，發出細碎而密集的咔咔聲，像一張極細的鋼絲網正被拉緊。黏絲從它們口器中噴出，幾乎透明，卻厚得像拉長的糖漿，帶著腥甜的鐵鏽味，纏住路人的腳踝與手腕；有幾個人被封住口鼻，只能發出被悶住的嗚嗚聲，眼白泛出驚駭的光。更糟的是，路牌與遮雨棚間已被黏絲縱橫封死，像臨時結成的獵場；高度正好卡住逃跑的人群，讓他們成為笨拙的獵物。
「散開！優先清除蛛網，解救民眾！」頭顱下指令的聲音帶著壓抑的火氣。
戰鬥打響，卻遠不如在花散裏那般從容。
右腿骨鞭抽出，呼嘯掃斷數條蛛絲——但牛仔褲的殘破布條在鞭影間啪啪不停，擾亂觸覺回饋；左腿蹬跳、急停，靈刀疾速揮砍，斬裂撲來的妖靈——但每一次落地，薄底涼鞋既無法緩衝，還在光滑地磚上打滑，膝關節像被生生拽了一把；雙手符箭連珠射出，金光在餘暉裡也刺目，逼退了幾隻試圖偷襲的妖靈——然而沒有袖套的保護，光是蛛魔細絲輕掠肌膚，就能留下一道火辣辣的紅痕。
「嘶……」頭顱因突如其來的疼痛而倒抽一口氣。疼痛很人間，心的回應卻仍冷硬：「損傷輕微，不影響機動。」
死魚眼裡終於燃起一絲怒火，不僅僅因為疼痛。
戰局並不站在她這邊。蜘蛛群合作得像受過訓練——有的專攻上方燈箱，從高處降網；有的低位包抄，用細絲牽扯她肢體的節奏；還有一隻就蹲在甜品店招牌旁，細爪等著她的頭顱進入最佳角度。她同時關注四線，腦海裡命令像刀片亂飛：
「右！三點鐘方向，兩民眾被纏！」 「左！小心頭頂撲擊！」 「手！連續射擊掩護右腿！」「頭！該死，飛高點避開那團網！」
她的頭顱像一台過載的監視器，瘋狂升降與橫移；靈魂絲線拉扯緊繃，因高速傳遞指令發光發熱；同時處理多線戰鬥的龐大資訊流讓她的腦海承受巨大壓力，太陽穴跳動作痛。這簡直是精神分裂式的酷刑！
她甚至聽見有人驚叫：「有顆頭在飛——！那是特效，還是魔怪？！」又有人舉起手機，鏡頭對著她。
「別拍！」她差點脫口而出，卻無暇分神。
戰鬥變得無比艱難，失誤在這種場面只是時間問題。妖靈動作迅捷，數量又多，在建築物間飛簷走壁，利用環境不斷周旋。御神櫻的肢體因為裝備不當和指揮延遲，動作遠不如平時流暢，好幾次險象環生。
一隻妖靈趁她調整視角時，從看板背後噴出一蓬黏絲，正好裹住她左手臂，符咒半途被黏成糊。
「左手！」頭顱驚呼，她試著指示右手救援，右手卻被另一隻從地底竄出的妖靈纏住。
就在這時，右腿為了替頭顱擋開一次偷襲，猛跳高掃。骨鞭狠抽，擊碎偷襲者的胸甲；然而涼鞋落地時一滑，因用力過猛，右腳的涼鞋鞋面織帶崩斷；在力道失衡的瞬間，臨死反撲的妖魔銳爪更是擦過腳尖，未受保護的右腳拇趾像一片花瓣被勾下飛出，撞在排水溝邊，輕輕彈回。斷面處沒有流血，只有靈力逸散的微光。
「呃啊！」一種奇怪的的痛感通過靈魂鏈接傳來——不是源自受傷，是自身被剝離的空洞。
「我的腳趾！還有鞋！」頭顱幾乎要慘叫出來，這都什麼亂七八糟的！
「趾端損耗，可接受。任務繼續。」那顆心不動如石。
「可接受你個——」她沒罵完，反手把怒意壓成一個決絕的結印。
死魚眼徹底消失，憤怒和窘迫終於壓倒了一切。御神櫻（頭顱）眼神一凜，強行集中幾乎要分裂的精神。
「全都給我……消失！」
靈魂絲線同時暴亮，像四條被點燃的弓弦。力量從神體那端呼應而來——冷而潔白，帶有不可置疑的命令氣息。右腿長鞭如同颶風狂舞，掃出一圈圈帶骨刺的弧，牆面留下密密麻麻的刮痕；左腿靈刀化作銀白電光高速穿梭，從蛛腹至下顎一路貫穿，乾脆利落；右手不惜把符咒榨出最後一縷金芒，拼接出一面光的格柵，將地面游移的蜘蛛逼回牆面。
最後一隻妖靈被靈刀釘在招牌與牆縫之間，複眼像燈泡一樣暗下去，褪作一口黑煙。街道像被人按掉聲源，一下子安靜得刺耳，只剩遠處的警笛，和人群裡壓抑不住的抽泣。
戰鬥結束了。御神櫻緩緩降到近地高度，視線掃過狼藉：半融的蛛網黏在店家的遮雨棚邊緣，滴下濃稠的絲；幾名被縛的民眾掙扎著脫身，不斷咳嗽，有人捂著嘴，眼神驚魂未定地瞥向她，又迅速移開。還有一個孩子指著空中愣愣看她。「媽媽，她…她的頭飛起來……」他的聲音被大人急促地捂住，但那雙清澈的眼睛裡與其說是恐懼，不如說是震驚與一絲未能掩蓋的好奇。
真是……慘烈的一戰，也是一場公開的處刑。
她的左手被厚厚的蛛網纏繞，動彈不得，蜘蛛嚙咬時侵入的妖毒讓左手傳來陣陣陌生的麻痺與刺痛感，彷彿它已不再是忠誠的肢體，而是某個懷有惡意的俘虜。她勉強壓下這份荒謬的異樣感，喃喃道需要帶回神社淨化。
右腳失去了大拇指，蘑菇般的斷口處靈光微弱，像一盞接觸不良的燈。那截塗著櫻色指甲油的拇趾靜靜躺在排水溝邊，在夕陽的柔光下顯得格外刺眼，彷彿是對她今天這場狼狽演出最辛辣的註腳。
肢體都受到大小不等的傷害，靈力消耗巨大，精神疲憊得幾乎要當場暈厥。至於她花了很長時間搜集的珍貴「普通女孩」偽裝，更是破得怪模怪樣——強扯而成的“短褲”，破爛的“襪套”，以及斷裂的涼鞋。彷彿該出現的舞台，是激進的時裝秀，而非城市的街頭。
「這算什麼啊……」她喃喃自語，再度出現的死魚眼裡充滿了哀怨，「普通女孩的週末休閒……怎麼會變成如此不堪？時尚災難現場加人體零件大甩賣？哈，哈哈……」
人群的情緒，慢慢從極致的驚恐中緩和，低語聲如同潮水般漫了上來，指向她這邊。御神櫻被強化後的感知能力，清晰地捕捉到那些碎片化的議論：
「剛、剛剛是……是那個……頭……救了我們嗎？」 「不知道……但那條會動的骨頭鞭子太嚇人了……」 「我拍到了！你看這視頻！是不是傳說中的飛頭蠻？」 「別瞎說！飛頭蠻會殺人，她剛才好像在清理那些蜘蛛怪物……」 「可是……這也太詭異了！那跳著的腳是什麼啊？還裝著一把刀！」 「警察快來了嗎？快一點，那麼可怕……」
人們舉起手機，分享她被存在記憶體裡的部位；還有部分鏡頭渴求她的身影，巡獵著片刻前尚在除妖護民的散華。御神櫻的背脊竄起一股涼意。
無所適從，徹底地無所適從。她驅散了妖魔，保護了人們，卻只收穫了恐懼、誤解和窺探。難以言喻的委屈和孤立感緊緊攫住了她。
「謝謝……」帶著劫後餘生的顫抖，一個極其微弱的聲音從某位剛被解救的女人那裡傳來，但立刻被周圍更多的驚疑和恐懼的議論所淹沒。
她想說些什麼，喉嚨像被堵住。她在腦海對那顆心說：「在看嗎？他們在看，這樣看待我。害怕我，議論我，像看一個怪物一樣看著我。這也是『可接受的損耗』嗎？」
那顆心卻不回應，彷彿那不值一提。
她洶湧的情感撞上了一堵無限厚的牆，沉默比任何冰冷更讓她心寒，彷彿提醒她：她的掙扎，她的感受，從頭到尾，都只是她一個人的事。
警笛聲尖銳地逼近，人群又是一陣騷動，有人朝警察的方向跑去，有人則依舊指著巷口：「她進那條巷子了！」
御神櫻猛地回神，最後一絲企求被現實碾碎。她指揮右手撿起那枚斷趾，塞進右腿“襪套”的縫隙，讓左腿協助受傷的右腿，一蹦一跳地退回後巷；右手則抓起試圖反抗但動彈不得的左手回歸。
巷角陰影裡，她的神體靜靜靠牆斜立，穿著那件棉質上衣與被割得破爛的牛仔“短褲”，像具被遺棄的時裝假體，聖潔蕩然無存，只剩一片狼藉。
她看著這具既是「神」又是「己」的軀殼，胸口集結的羞恥、荒謬與憤怒，最終化作了一聲無力的嘆息。
The evening sun cast a sweet, warm glow, like a thin sugar glaze, over the shopping street. The sizzle of hotplates from the stalls, the soy sauce aroma of takoyaki, and the scent of cream from crepes swirled together on a lazy breeze. Mikami Sakura held a freshly bought daifuku and took a careful bite—the soft, sticky skin was dusted with powdered sugar that clung to her fingertips, and the red bean paste bloomed on her tongue. She squinted, wishing she could preserve this taste in amber.
Her reflection glanced past in a shop window. She was wearing the light-colored cotton top and skinny jeans she had bought on her last "outing," with strappy women's sandals on her feet, the straps adorned with small plastic pearls. She looked just like any other college student out for a weekend stroll.
Looking at herself in the window, Sakura's heart was touched. Her steps slowed, and a cherished smile graced her lips. The time was almost up. Before she had to "go back," she wanted to seize every moment, to embrace the "mundane world" until the very end.
However, before she could cherish this final moment of happiness, it was violently torn away.
A foul, cold presence shot out without warning, a malevolence like an invisible ice pick stabbing into the center of her chest. The sweetness in her mouth turned to bitterness as she gasped in a sudden, sharp breath. The shadows in the alleyway entrance seemed to ripple, and the light on the street corner crumpled as if it had been crushed.
Sakura's steps came to a hard stop, the daifuku nearly slipping from her hand. "No! Not like this! Why now, of all times?!"
Reluctance crashed over her like a tidal wave, instantly washing away the sandcastle of joy she had just built. Screams erupted from the other end of the street. The crowd began to stir, panic spreading like ripples, and the sound of crashing glass rang out. She recognized that familiar, detestable vibration: the miasma of demons, and more than one.
The demons would not hesitate for her personal wishes. "Damn it... can't you just let me savor the afterglow of happiness for a little while? Why is a complete day off so hard to get!" she grumbled through clenched teeth. Her wonderful mood had vanished, replaced by endless frustration and a deep sense of helplessness.
There was no time to return to the shrine, not even enough time to find a properly concealed corner. She could only spin around and dive into the narrow, dark back alley between two buildings.
"My apologies, Lady Shin-ou, this is an emergency..." She closed her eyes, hastily confessing to the silent presence within her while forcibly breaking through the suppressed state and power restraints that Shin-ou had adjusted for her.
The backlash hit Sakura with the force of a tidal wave. The sense of detachment was like a rough hand yanking her out of her own body. The "complete" human girl once again declared her separation from herself.
Her head began to detach from her neck with extreme inelegance. It was hasty and rough, with a distinct pain and a chaotic, brutal severing, nothing like the slow, sacred ritual in the shrine. Her head hovered in the air, drifting as if drunk. The hair tie she wore was not the usual shrine maiden's spiritual binding knot, the "Gohei," used to restrain stray spiritual connections. Her similar ponytail lacked the same orderly spiritual link; a few soul threads shot out haphazardly, their connection to her limbs flickering unsteadily, held together only by Sakura’s strained consciousness.
A cold, sharp pain shot through her neck, as if a remnant had been torn away that hadn't been left with Shin-ou. The moment her head separated from her torso, she clearly felt the mechanical pulse of her "heart": Separation initiated. Mission priority. Damage acceptable.
Not a word of comfort, not a word of encouragement, just a completely cold assessment.
Even worse was her "equipment." Spiritual power surged through her limbs, but her clothes protested first. At her right thigh, the ghastly white bone whip tried to form, and the denim tore with a sickening sound, as if a pack of small beasts were clawing at it viciously. Her left leg was enveloped in the cold light of the spiritual blade, and with a sweep of its sharp intent, the pant leg was sliced from the hip like paper, turning into tattered strips that dangled ridiculously.
The cuffs of the jeans she hadn't had time to change out of hung pitifully on her legs, a poor substitute for the long tabi socks of her formal attire (the Purification Tabi "Hakujou"), but they offered no spiritual protection. She looked mismatched, comical, and utterly pathetic.
"What a waste..." the hovering head let out a pained and annoyed click of the tongue. Her favorite pair of pants had just been sentenced to death. Each torn piece of fabric cut away a piece of her wish to be an "ordinary person."
On her feet, the cute women's sandals were still intact, but they had no grip and no spiritual reinforcement, a far cry from the demon-purifying straw sandals of her formal gear (the Evil-Crushing Zori "Shinsei"). They couldn't provide the agility her legs needed, nor the power to tread upon and purify corruption.
Her arms slipped out of the sleeves of her thin top, losing the protection of the wide sleeves of her formal robes (the Spirit-Binding Sleeves "Chinrei"). Her bare arms were exposed, looking lonely and vulnerable, a sight that triggered an instinctive chill of unease. The talismans between her fingers looked like they had been hastily grabbed from a pocket, far fewer in number than usual.
Sakura realized she was entering what should have been a serious, bloody battle in a bizarrely comical, informal, and undignified state. "Not the formal attire of the Shrine Maiden of Shin-ou. Should be changed." The heart once again projected a cold warning into her mind. She suddenly wanted to laugh, and also to cry.
"Shut up," she retorted almost silently to her own chest—or to the god.
Her head floated, the solemn piety she usually had before a battle completely gone from her face. In its place was a pair of completely resigned, dead fish eyes, their vacant gaze filled with the silent accusation of "Why do you always pick a time like this?" and extreme annoyance.
The screams from outside the alley grew closer.
She hesitated no longer. Her head rose, the soul threads pulled taut, and commands rained down.
Her right leg kicked off the ground, shooting out of the alley like a cannonball, the bone whip tracing a ghastly white arc. Her left leg followed swiftly, its spiritual blade as thin as a cicada's wing. Her hands, holding a limited number of talismans, flanked her head. This bizarre procession, dressed in the tattered remains of fashion yet glowing with a divine aura, charged into the street, a street that was bathed in the evening sun but twisted by panic.
They were waiting for her.
Swarms of half-man-sized spider demons clung to the walls and the backs of signs, their compound eyes like lit red beads, glowing with a bloodthirsty light. As they moved, their hundreds of tiny claws made contact with glass and metal, creating a fine, dense clicking sound, like a fine wire mesh being pulled taut. Sticky silk, nearly transparent but as thick as stretched syrup and smelling of sweet rust, shot from their mouths, tangling the ankles and wrists of pedestrians. A few people had their mouths and noses sealed, able to make only muffled whimpers, the whites of their eyes wide with terror. Worse, the spaces between street signs and awnings had been crisscrossed with silk, turning the area into a makeshift hunting ground, trapping the fleeing crowd and turning them into clumsy prey.
"Spread out! Prioritize clearing the webs and rescuing the civilians!" The voice from the head was thick with suppressed anger.
The battle began, but it was far less composed than the one in the Glade of Scattered Blossoms.
The right leg’s bone whip lashed out, snapping several strands of silk—but the tattered denim strips flapped wildly in its wake, interfering with her tactile feedback. The left leg dodged and stopped abruptly, its spiritual blade slashing at lunging demons—but every time it landed, the thin-soled sandals couldn't cushion the impact and slipped on the smooth tiles, yanking at her knee joint. The hands fired a continuous stream of talisman arrows, their golden light dazzling in the twilight, pushing back a few demons that tried to ambush her—but without her protective sleeves, even a light brush from the spiders’ silk left a burning red mark on her skin.
"Hiss..." The head sucked in a breath from the sudden pain. The pain was very human, but the heart's response was still cold and hard: "Damage is minor. Does not affect mobility."
A flicker of anger finally ignited in the dead fish eyes, and not just because of the pain.
The battle was not in her favor. The spider swarms were coordinated as if trained—some focused on the light boxes above, dropping nets from high places; others flanked low, using thin threads to disrupt the rhythm of her limbs. One was even perched by the dessert shop's sign, its claws waiting for her head to enter the perfect angle. She was monitoring four fronts at once, commands flying through her mind like shrapnel:
"Right! Three o'clock, two civilians entangled!" "Left! Watch out for an attack from above!" "Hands! Covering fire for the right leg!" "Head! Damn it, fly higher and avoid that net!"
Her head was like an overloaded surveillance monitor, frantically moving up, down, and sideways. The soul threads were stretched taut, glowing hot from the high-speed transmission of commands. The immense flow of information from the multi-front battle put tremendous pressure on her mind, her temples throbbing with pain. It was a form of schizophrenic torture!
She even heard someone scream, "There's a head flying—! Is that special effects, or a monster?!" Someone else raised a phone, the camera pointed at her.
"Don't film!" she almost blurted out, but she couldn't spare the concentration.
The fight became incredibly difficult; a mistake was only a matter of time. The demons were fast and numerous, skittering across buildings and using the environment to their advantage. Sakura's limbs, due to her improper gear and command lag, were far less fluid than usual, leading to several close calls.
While she was adjusting her perspective, one demon shot a glob of sticky silk from behind a sign, catching her left arm and gluing her talismans into a useless pulp mid-cast.
"Left hand!" the head cried out. She tried to order her right hand to help, but it was entangled by another demon that had burst from the ground.
Just then, her right leg leaped high for a sweeping kick to block a sneak attack aimed at her head. The bone whip struck hard, shattering the attacker's carapace. However, when the sandal landed, it slipped. The force was too great, and the sandal's strap snapped. In that moment of imbalance, the dying demon's claws raked across her foot. Her unprotected big toe was torn off like a petal, hitting the side of a drain before bouncing back. There was no blood from the wound, only the faint glow of dissipating spiritual power.
"Aargh!" A strange pain shot through the soul link—not from the injury, but from the emptiness of having a part of herself stripped away.
"My toe! And my shoe!" The head was about to scream. What kind of a mess was this?!
"Toe-tip loss is acceptable. Continue the mission." The heart was as unmoving as a stone.
"Acceptable my—" She didn't finish the curse, instead channeling her rage into a decisive hand sign.
The dead fish eyes vanished completely, finally overwhelmed by fury and humiliation. Mikami Sakura (her head) focused her nearly fractured mind, her gaze turning sharp.
"All of you... just disappear!"
The soul threads all flashed brightly, like four ignited bowstrings. Power surged from the divine body in response—cold and pure, carrying an air of undeniable command. The right leg's whip danced like a hurricane, sweeping out arcs of bone spurs that left dense scratches on the walls. The left leg's spiritual blade became a blur of silver light, piercing cleanly through the spiders from abdomen to jaw. The right hand, not sparing a single drop of power, squeezed the last golden spark from its talismans to form a lattice of light, forcing the ground-crawling spiders back onto the walls.
The last demon was pinned between a sign and a wall by the spiritual blade. Its compound eyes dimmed like light bulbs before it dissolved into a puff of black smoke. The street fell into a deafening silence, as if someone had hit a mute button, leaving only the sound of distant sirens and the suppressed sobs of the crowd.
The battle was over. Sakura slowly descended, her gaze sweeping over the wreckage: half-melted webbing dripped thick silk from the edges of shop awnings; a few of the bound civilians struggled free, coughing, some covering their mouths, their terrified eyes darting towards her before quickly looking away. A child was pointing at her, stunned. "Mommy, her... her head is flying..." His voice was quickly muffled by an adult's hand, but his clear eyes held less fear than shock and a hint of unconcealed curiosity.
It was... a brutal battle, and a public execution of her dignity.
Her left hand was bound in thick webbing, unable to move. The demon venom from a bite sent waves of unfamiliar numbness and stinging pain through it, as if it were no longer a loyal limb but a malicious captive. She barely suppressed this absurd, alien feeling, murmuring that she would need to take it back to the shrine for purification.
Her right foot was missing its big toe. A faint light flickered from the mushroom-shaped stump, like a faulty lamp. The severed toe, its nail painted a cherry blossom pink, lay silently by the drain, looking especially garish in the soft evening light, a scathing commentary on her pathetic performance today.
All her limbs had sustained injuries of varying degrees, her spiritual power was severely depleted, and she was so mentally exhausted she felt she could pass out on the spot. As for the precious "ordinary girl" disguise she had spent so long cultivating, it was now a grotesque ruin—forcibly made "shorts," tattered "socks," and a broken sandal. It was an outfit more suited for a radical fashion show than a city street.
"What is this even..." she murmured, the dead fish eyes returning, full of grief. "An ordinary girl's weekend... how did it turn into this disaster? A fashion catastrophe plus a human body parts clearance sale? Ha, haha..."
The crowd's mood slowly shifted from extreme terror. Whispers rose like the tide, all directed at her. Sakura's enhanced senses clearly picked up the fragmented discussions:
"Was... was that... that head... did it just save us?"
"I don't know... but that moving bone whip was so scary..."
"I got it on video! Look! Is that the legendary flying head demon?"
"Don't be ridiculous! Those things kill people. She seemed to be cleaning up those spider monsters..."
"But... it's just so weird! What was that jumping leg? It had a sword attached!"
"Are the police almost here? Hurry up, it's so terrifying..."
People held up their phones, sharing the parts of her that now existed in their memory cards. Other cameras hunted for her, preying on the scattered blossoms that had just been protecting them. A chill ran down Sakura's spine.
She was at a complete loss. Utterly lost. She had dispelled the demons, protected the people, only to be met with fear, misunderstanding, and morbid curiosity. An indescribable sense of grievance and isolation seized her.
"Thank... you..." A very faint voice, trembling with post-traumatic relief, came from a woman who had just been rescued, but it was immediately drowned out by the surrounding whispers of suspicion and fear.
She wanted to say something, but her throat felt blocked. She spoke to the heart in her mind: "Are you watching? They're watching, looking at me like this. They're afraid of me, gossiping about me, looking at me like I'm a monster. Is this also 'acceptable damage'?"
The heart did not respond, as if the matter wasn't worth mentioning.
Her surging emotions hit an infinitely thick wall. The silence was colder and more chilling than any heartless assessment, a reminder that her struggle, her feelings, from beginning to end, were hers and hers alone.
The police sirens grew sharp and close. The crowd stirred again. Some ran towards the police, while others still pointed at the alley entrance. "She went into that alley!"
Sakura snapped back to reality, her last sliver of hope crushed. She directed her right hand to pick up the severed toe and tuck it into a tear in her right leg's "sock." She had her left leg help her injured right leg as she hopped back into the alley. Her right hand, meanwhile, grabbed her struggling but immobilized left hand and brought it along.
In the shadows of the alley, her divine body leaned against the wall, dressed in the cotton top and the tattered denim "shorts," looking like a discarded fashion mannequin. All sanctity was gone, leaving only a complete mess.
She looked at this shell that was both "god" and "self." The shame, absurdity, and anger that had gathered in her chest finally dissolved into a single, powerless sigh.
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