This thing is not my son, absolutely not.
This thing crawled up from Naraku, an unspeakably wicked abomination.
Not Mizuiro, not Mizuiro...
In Inutake Soukai's field of vision, chaos and a blazing red light mingled, and his body lurched into a frenzy, almost on instinct.
When he came to his senses again, that thing wearing Mizuiro's face was already pinned beneath him.
Inutake Soukai gripped "Mizuiro"'s slender neck with one hand, while the other hand slammed the bronze incense burner down on "Mizuiro"'s head again and again.
The incense burner was smeared with viscous, cloudy-yellow resin, sticky threads stretching as it dripped down.
"Mizuiro"'s head was crushed—more than half of it shattered—its whole skull collapsed inward, exposing woody tissue marked by bizarre, swollen patterns.
The rotting stench of evil grew even stronger.
