Kusunoki Residence With A Divine Garden (Dropped) - Chapter 18
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- Chapter 18 - The Hell Continues, Forever and Ever
His missed kick formed an arc in the air, and Ichijo, unable to brace himself on his supporting foot, tumbled onto the ground.
“Ouch!?”
His temple hit the ground, and stars danced before his eyes.
He held his head and groaned for a while.
Then, in his blurred vision, he saw countless trees.
As he blinked rapidly and looked up at the sky, he could see glimpses of blue between the branches and leaves that extended in every direction.
“Yeah… that’s right. I’m… I’m dead…”
A short while ago, he had most likely slammed his entire body into the trunk. He was sure he had heard the sound of bones breaking.
Recalling the intense pain he had never experienced before, his heartbeat accelerated. His breathing became difficult, and his body continued to tremble uncontrollably.
After enduring such pain, it was inconceivable that he was still alive.
In reality…
The left side of his body, which he had just slammed into the ground, was now throbbing. Not understanding what was happening, he was subjected to further torment, shaking slightly.
Uncontrollable tears streamed down his face, and he noticed the thick, torn root that had been forcibly pulled from the soil only a moment ago.
The shape of the soil, its color, and the strong scent of the earth that poked at his nose—it all seemed to claim that it had just been brutally torn from the ground.
With a matching hue of soil, he moved his gaze cautiously.
Near the trunk, there were fragments of the uprooted root lying on the ground.
He returned to where he started.
His body and the passage of time were reset.
While clutching his pounding heart and curling up, he cried and suffered through the ordeal.
――――――――――――――
After crying for several hours, Ichijo grew tired of tears and began descending the slope with a rough stride. He used his hands to push away the ivy hanging from his nose, all the while muttering curses like “I hate this ivy” as usual.
While he had shed tears of grief, a surge of anger had welled up as a reaction.
“Why do I have to go through this kind of thing? I’m definitely going down to the bottom, no matter what!”
His swollen eyes were filled with determination, and his breath was ragged as he burned with a fiery determination.
“Is it him? Is it his fault? Yeah, it must be. Always looking so calm, it’s infuriating. Everything is your fault, Harima! It’s because of you, right?”
The reversed voice echoing through the woods did not return any response.
Driven by his surging anger, he snapped off a branch he had grabbed.
“…rin.”
“What is it? What’s that sound…?”
He faintly heard some sort of noise.
However, in his heightened state of mind and his loud ranting, Ichijo dismissed it as his imagination.
“Or maybe… that guy from that house—”
“Chirin!”
The sound was clear near his ear, making him flinch.
He remembered.
The last time this sound rang out, a sudden gust of wind had pushed him from behind, causing him to tumble down the slope.
After taking a sharp inhale, another gale suddenly blew from behind.
Before he could even scream, he and the branch he held were sent tumbling down the steep slope with force.
――――――――――――――
Between the trees, Ichijo sat cross-legged, spinning the torn root with his fingertips.
He had lost count of how many times he had returned to the starting point. He had stopped counting after it surpassed ten. He couldn’t remember how many times he had died, either.
His lifeless face managed a dry laugh.
“No, I’m not dead. I’m breathing and moving right now.”
He let out a deep, heavy sigh and slumped his shoulders.
Descending and descending, he couldn’t escape the mountain.
How many more times must he die and return? Could it possibly be forever?
He trembled and shook his head violently.
“No, I can get out of here. I’m sure I can get out of here.”
Unintentionally, his grip tightened on the root, almost crushing it. Then he slowly released his grip and gently placed it on the ground.
Holding his breath, he listened. There was no sound of the wind chime coming from anywhere, neither near his ears nor farther away.
He relaxed his tense body, which had been on reflexive alert.
After taking several deep breaths, he gazed at the exposed, painful root lying on the ground.
After experiencing the cycle countless times, he had come to understand something.
If he cursed or damaged the things on the mountain, the wind chime would ring. And then the wind would blow, giant trees would fall, and massive rocks would descend. He would be forcibly terminated.
The man who had stubbornly held his stance and never changed his attitude was finally resolved to change.
Moving deftly between the roots on the ground, he managed to find a relatively flat spot. He settled into a proper kneeling position, facing a nearby root.
“I apologize.”
He bowed deeply, keeping his head lowered. He bit his lower lip hard and exerted as much force as possible on the fist he held on his knee.
It was humiliating.
But it was definitely worth a try.
The wind blew, causing his drooping bangs to sway.
With a tense motion, he raised his face as if his head might snap off.
The root spun around in circles.
As he watched with sweaty palms, the rotation gradually slowed down until it eventually stopped.
The pointed tip of the root pointed upwards, towards the top of the mountain.
Quickly, he stood up.
――――――――――――――
Climbing up the slope, the mountain’s landscape gradually changed.
Unlike his endless descent through the coniferous trees, he found himself among broad-leaved trees. Passing through the spaces between towering trees with familiar large leaves swaying, he advanced through the forest area and pushed through thickets of grass as he ascended.
Compared to the descent, the climb was a completely different level of exhaustion for his legs.
Nevertheless, drenched in sweat and dragging heavy legs, he aimed for the mountaintop.
If descending wasn’t working, then ascending was the way to go.
There was no other option.
Why hadn’t he realized it sooner? Instantly shifting from his previous frustrated expression to a bitter face at his own slow-wittedness, he was about to click his tongue when he heard the sound of leaves rustling from above.
Leaves fell from the sky like snowflakes.
His vision was entirely blocked, so he hurriedly shielded his face with his arms and tried to recompose his expression.
As the leafy rain settled down, he let out a deep sigh of relief and hastened his pace.
Inside the gentle incline of the green tunnel, the only sounds that echoed were his own breathing and the rustling of the grass he stepped on.
――――――――――――――
Eventually, at the end of the tunnel of trees, a flat path came into view.
Here, for the first time, he encountered something that bore a semblance of human presence.
Unable to contain himself, he started running.
Gasping for air, he emerged from the thicket, and under his battered leather shoes was a trail that had been smoothed out—a path, a road.
The width of the path was barely enough for two people to pass, but a road was a road.
It was clearly not something that had occurred naturally; it was artificial.
Temporarily forgetting the pain in his legs and lungs in his joy, he managed to pull up the corners of his mouth.
Turning to his left, he saw a gently curving path that extended downward and turned into a staircase made of logs partway down.
Next, he looked to his right.
In stark contrast to the descending path, a steep uphill slope extended upwards.
A cloud seemed to pass over his face. This steep slope was obstructed by several boulders strewn across the path.
“Which way…” he muttered.
Folding his knees, he sat down on the trail.
He pondered which direction to take until his labored breathing settled down.
――――――――――――――
Eating alone was incredibly tasteless.
After finishing a solitary lunch in the dining room, Minato stood up from his chair. Since childhood, it has been his habit not to have the television on during meals, and that habit has continued to the present day.
Walking from the dining area to the kitchen, he thought about how mealtimes were always filled with lively conversations and never felt silent in his parents’ home. He sighed as he remembered that.
Eating silently by himself in a quiet room was still something he wasn’t used to.
Standing in front of the sink, he quickly washed the dishes in a matter of minutes. It was a simple meal for one person, so it didn’t take much time. He meticulously wiped away the water droplets on the sink.
The sink was slightly higher, designed to accommodate the tall stature of his dearly departed loved one, who was very particular about things. It was convenient, and he liked it.
After washing his hands, he looked out onto the veranda while drying them with a towel. There, by the window, lay the mountain god, stretched out.
Lately, the mountain god has been sleeping a lot.
His attendants hadn’t visited for a while either.
The few times he woke up, Minato asked if something was wrong, only to be told that everything was fine. So he refrained from waking him up unnecessarily.
But…
He took an afternoon snack out of the refrigerator, placed it on a plate, opened the window to the veranda, and set it down near the mountain god’s long snout.
The nostrils twitched immediately. The chest expanded and contracted as it took deep breaths. The tail started to wag.
It’s sniffing. Minato, squatting down with his chin resting on his hand, grinned as he watched. Then suddenly, the eyes opened wide.
“It’s a black sugar bun, isn’t it?”
With certainty, he shouted and raised his head with excitement.
On the plate before his nose were the black sugar buns that formed a pyramid-like offering. The mountain god narrowed his eyes approvingly, as if nodding in agreement.
“As expected.”
“Want to have some together, Mountain God?”
“Yes. Let’s partake.”
Occasionally, he invited him.
The catch rate was about 70 percent. It was decent enough.
After enjoying the buns together, the mountain god closed his eyes again.
Without showing any particular signs of exhaustion, he picked up two plates and stood up, looking out at the garden.
At the end of his gaze was a single camphor tree.
It had grown rapidly from a seed and reached a height almost equal to Minato’s, but it hadn’t shown any growth since then.
It still had sparse but vibrant leaves, which was an indication of its vitality, as the mountain god reassured him. So there was no need to worry.
Yet, as he continued to watch, he suddenly realized something.
“…I haven’t seen it move lately.”
Though it used to sway in the wind, playfully rustling its branches and leaves.
“…Maybe because there’s no wind.”
Moreover, he realized that he hadn’t heard the sound of the wind chimes in a while.
For a while, he stood on the windless veranda, gazing at the wind chimes hanging down from the eaves.