Kusunoki Residence With A Divine Garden (Dropped) - Chapter 19
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- Chapter 19 - No Invitation for Another Visit
After surmounting the slope that bordered on harassment, there stood a small shrine.
Ichijo collapsed onto the ground on all fours, taking his time to catch his breath. Once he stood up, he silently stood in front of the shrine.
It was an ordinary old stone shrine, lacking any distinctive features, yet it looked oddly neat.
Despite being in the middle of a steep slope where hardly anyone would venture, it appeared as though someone had recently cleaned it.
The anticipation that he might be able to return surged in his chest, causing his heart, which had remained calm until then, to quicken.
Peering into the shrine, which was devoid of moss, he saw two round stones. There was another stone as well, but it was split in half.
There was no guarantee that this shrine was the way back to his original world.
Even if there was a path leading further up to the mountaintop, a massive boulder blocked the way, making it nearly impossible to climb.
He had no choice but to steel himself. He had come this far; there was no turning back.
His pride was Everest-class, and he was a man who had very few experiences with apologizing. He knelt down on one knee and then the other.
Sitting formally, he straightened his back and placed three fingers on the ground.
Slowly lowering his head, his sweat-soaked bangs brushed against the dirt.
“I prostrate myself before you. Please, I beg you, return me to my original world. Please, bring me back!”
Over and over, dozens of times, he bowed deeply to the ground, entreating.
With all the strength of his voice, he raised it as loud as he could, pouring his sincere feelings into his words.
And yet, his desperate voice reverberated against the mountain, only to return to him empty.
Nothing changed. There was no wind, and the wind chimes remained silent.
Still, Ichijo didn’t give up.
Toward the trees, leaves, vines, and roots of the mountain he had harmed, he repeated his apologies and begged for forgiveness.
He repeated the apology words he knew so well.
He repeated them over and over.
Gradually, his voice grew softer and more hoarse.
Still, he continued to force out his gravelly voice.
With trembling hands, he clenched the soil, mustering his strength to project his voice.
“Mountain God, please, I implore you, plea—”
――――――――――――――
“Let me go! Uwahh!”
His stumbling body was saved from a fall by a hand pulling him back.
Steadying himself on the tatami mat, Ichijo noticed a small, intricately designed gate before him and shivered.
“What are you saying…?”
The owner of the delicate hand that had rested on his arm asked him softly.
Turning to look behind him, he found the familiar face of his childhood friend, her brows slightly furrowed.
Her expression had remained unchanged since their first meeting.
Looking at that face, which had always been full of complaints, whether about masks or gloominess, a wave of relief washed over him.
“I… returned,” he murmured hesitantly with a trembling voice, running his hand over various parts of his body as if checking himself.
To her, his actions seemed strange.
The air of authority he had exuded earlier had vanished. Even though he had acted so arrogantly just moments ago.
Not too long ago, he had attempted to kick the lattice door, only to be unexpectedly pushed back.
As he reached out to stop his reckless actions in someone else’s house, he ended up supporting her arm.
The man, who was physically larger than him, was heavy.
He had instinctively supported him, but he should have just avoided him and let him tumble onto the gravel path.
Regret swept over him. Right after that, he yelled, “Let me go!” Such behavior was utterly incomprehensible. It was one thing to joke around, but this was going too far. He wanted to say his piece.
The woman’s face in front of him twisted as if she were about to cry.
She, who couldn’t fathom the tyrant’s sudden change, let go of his arm, looking somewhat uncomfortable.
He hadn’t hit his head; she must have done a good job supporting him.
As she stepped back a couple of paces to put some distance between them, Ichijo took two steps forward.
He retreated three steps, then advanced diagonally three steps.
The sound of gravel being stepped on echoed continuously, and it seemed like this distance couldn’t be maintained forever.
He couldn’t shake her off. If this continued, she might cling to him. Just imagining it made him shudder.
No, stop it; I’m scared. Someone help me. God, Buddha, Mother! Anyone will do! And what’s with that overly relieved and creepy expression? Don’t come near me!
He couldn’t say it. The fact that he couldn’t made him feel pathetic and vexed, so he bit down hard on his chapped lower lip.
And at that moment—
Chirin.
The situation dramatically changed with the sound that reached him from the house.
The high-pitched, clear sound rang out, and Ichijo’s red face turned pale blue. He fled in a mad rush.
The sound of gravel being kicked up resounded as he hopped in various directions, and a few steps ahead, he tripped and fell with a thud.
Sliding spectacularly on his side, he created a long, narrow trench as he scraped away the gravel.
Immediately getting up, he dashed along the unpaved road.
He swiftly grew distant… then fell again.
Hidden among the lush rice stalks in the field, he vanished from view. Above him, a group of red dragonflies flew by.
The woman, seeing the earnestness in his running, watched in astonishment.
Chirin, chirin.
The sound came from behind him—a light, melodic chime.
For some reason, the inexplicable terror he felt when he heard it earlier had disappeared.
The mere sound of wind chimes now seemed reassuring and dignified.
Strangely, his breathing became easier.
With a faint smile on her lips, the woman stood there, closing her eyes, taking deep breaths, and listening intently.
――――――――――――――
“Such a noisy lot. They should leave soon.”
As the mountain god opened his eyes, he made a rumbling sound in his throat and formed deep valleys on his nose bridge.
The mountain god had merely rung the wind chimes to drive away the bothersome Ichijo, and in the end, it had resulted in helping the woman.
For the mountain god, what became of humans who didn’t show him respect was of no concern to him, and he had no intention of caring.
He didn’t usually believe in the existence of gods, and in fact, he often ridiculed them. He didn’t have any inclination to listen to prayers made only in times of trouble.
Gods weren’t convenient beings for humans, nor were they easy-to-summon heroes who would come flying to their aid.
Having awakened after a long time, the mountain god seemed to be in a rather foul mood.
He didn’t pay any attention to the repeated doorbell chime, and Minato, who had been heading to the entrance, returned to the room in silence.
In her hand, as she reappeared, was a plate with sweet kinako-covered rice cakes.
The fur on the mountain god, which had been bristling in response to his irritated mood, settled down as he noticed the aroma, and he sat up.
The mountain god, who had expended too much divine power to trap only the consciousness of a single human in his realm, needed to sleep for a while before that. But before that, he was determined to gather his energy.
“Let’s eat.”
“Please.”
Ignoring the tail that was wagging busily, Minato stabbed an opened kinako-covered rice cake with a toothpick.
――――――――――――――
A person with a twisted nature and a nasty disposition can’t easily change their heart and become a saint or a virtuous person in just a few months.
When it comes to humans, they tend to forget the heat once it’s passed their throat.
The emotional abuse that Ichijo had temporarily subdued had recently begun to show up again.
――――――――――――――
At a certain place within a Yin-Yang dormitory in Tokyo.
In a corner of the room, with the blinds drawn down, Ichijo had his hands stuffed into his pockets and was sitting in his seat with his legs spread wide. In front of him, the childhood friend who had recently put on a bit of weight was continuously staring at her smartphone.
Here and there, colleagues seated around them were discreetly glancing at Ichijo, radiating a tense atmosphere of anticipation. It was as if they were all expecting something, creating an oddly restless atmosphere.
Ichijo, however, was completely oblivious to the atmosphere around him. He was frustrated by his childhood friend, who only responded with vague answers no matter what he said.
“That’s why I’m telling you, it’s no good with that guy. Why don’t you just give up?”
“I can’t. It’s my job.”
“Recently, you’ve, well… no, not really, uh, you’ve put on weight, so you’ll just be more of a burden than before.”
A sharp cracking sound is followed by the satisfying noise of a ballpoint pen snapping. The sound was made by the young woman sitting nearby.
With beautifully manicured nails, her hand forcefully discarded the broken pen into the nearby wastebasket. She promptly pushed her chair back.
As if defying her rising impulse to stand up, the hand of the person in the adjacent seat swiftly stretched out and clamped down on her thin shoulder.
She was pinned to her seat. Unable to rise.
As she started to stand up, a woman sitting next to her grabbed her shoulder with a grip like a vise. She was held fast in her chair.
Trying to rise, the woman turned a sharp gaze toward the person with a vice-like grip.
There, she found the composed face of a woman who, despite approaching middle age, still retained her beauty. She was looking back at her with an utterly composed expression.
The woman had become incensed due to the disrespectful words spoken to her friendly senior colleague, and her face had transformed into a fierce, wrathful visage, exuding a forbidding aura.
Don’t stop me, older sister! Today, I’m going to crush that emotionally abusive wimp of a guy!
Receiving the unspoken plea from her sister’s wrathful expression, the older woman shook her head slightly. She lifted the corner of her vibrant red lips, and from beneath her long, curling, mascara-free lashes, she sent a meaningful message.
Wait for it.
Suddenly realizing the meaning, the wrathful woman composed herself into the dignified demeanor of a proper young lady, and the two sisters exchanged knowing smiles.
The Hazama sisters, with their strikingly similar expressions, continued to communicate wordlessly.
――――――――――――――
Exorcism missions were typically carried out in pairs. Ichijo was particularly bothered by the fact that his childhood friend, whom he had been growing increasingly conscious of lately, was teaming up with someone other than him. And to make matters worse, that someone was none other than the detested Hazama.
He had issued commands that were laced with personal feelings, saying things like, “Don’t go with him; decline the offer.”
However, he didn’t understand where this frustrated feeling was coming from, and those around him were sending him gentle gazes, recognizing his emotional immaturity.
His childhood friend’s callousness only added to Ichijo’s irritation. She continued to gaze at her screen, sweeping her hair back behind her ears. But she remained completely oblivious to Ichijo’s faint feelings.
“Hey! Turn this way already—”
Chime.
The string of insults stopped abruptly.
Without missing a beat, Ichijo kicked over his chair from under his knee and turned around. In a state of panic, he rushed past the gap between the desk and the wall, bolting out of the room.
The paper fragments that had been fluttering on the wall, as if caught by the wind, returned to their original positions one by one.
This should keep him quiet for a few days.
The woman, who had reluctantly stood up, pushed back the chair that had fallen over with an air of annoyance. She turned towards the men, who were trembling with suppressed laughter, and the women, who were giving her thumbs up.
“I apologize for the disturbance.”
With an about-face, she presented a radiant smile, clear and sunny. The corners of her glossy lips remained uplifted without any sign of dropping.
“It’s incredibly effective, huh? It’s just a regular ringtone on my phone.”
“I wonder why this is scary. It’s such a nice sound.”
She held her smartphone against her chest as if it were a precious treasure and burst into a bright smile that blossomed on her rosy cheeks.
“You’re right. You should put it on your phone, old man.”
The man with a Panama hat, sitting diagonally in front of her with an expression of exasperation, also took out his smartphone.