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Pissed Off
The young tsukumogami’s eyes burned with resolve, unshaken even if the heavens crumbled or seas roared, pledging his life to a human without a second thought.
Even if a bottomless abyss lay ahead, he’d leap without hesitation.
Mikazuki Munechika’s eyes lost their spark of amusement, his brows knitting with a hint of frustration. “No regrets?”
His junior’s voice was steadfast. “None.”
—
After Yamanbakiri Kunihiro left.
“You’re just gonna let it slide?” Tsurumaru Kuninaga stretched, slumping bonelessly in his chair, letting out a sigh.
Tch.
Thought Mikazuki would have some clever plan.
The tea cups clinked with a crisp sound. Mikazuki Munechika tilted his cup, pouring the remaining tea into the drain, then neatly arranged them one by one, his movements graceful to a fault.
“What, tie him up every day?” Finishing with the tea set, Mikazuki Munechika stood smoothly.
No amount of advice would help with something like this.
Besides… Yamanbakiri’s stubborn. The more you block him, the more determined he gets.
Constantly stopping him might just fuel his resolve.
Seeing him about to leave, Tsurumaru Kuninaga cracked open one eye, trying to stall. “Where you off to?”
“Hm?”
Mikazuki Munechika yawned, a few tears glimmering briefly in his eyes before he wiped them away.
“ Tsurumaru.”
“Do I need to remind you? It’s my nap time.”
Tsurumaru Kuninaga: “…”
Your naps are that sacred?
He went quiet for two seconds, struggling to find words, then leaned into some dramatic fear-mongering. “ Mikazuki…”
“Heard sleeping too much makes you dumber.”
As he spoke, he struck a pose—left hand at six, right at seven, left shoulder up, right shoulder down, left foot circling, right foot kicking, tongue poking out—playing the fool to perfection.
Rubbing his eyes, Mikazuki Munechika chuckled at the display, waving it off lightly. “I’m already old enough to be a grandpa. No one’s gonna care if my memory’s shot.”
Lips twitching, Tsurumaru Kuninaga muttered under his breath, “No one? I’d care.”
By the end of his muttering, all he got was Mikazuki Munechika’s dashing back.
Tsurumaru Kuninaga froze, then hurried to catch up, talking as he walked. “You’re really going to sleep?”
Mikazuki Munechika’s steps were already wobbly. He looked up, giving him a sleepy glance. “Mhm…” He sounded resigned. “Getting old’s rough—makes you drowsy.”
Tsurumaru Kuninaga: “…”
We were forged in the same batch!
“ Mikazuki, Mi-ka-zu-ki!”
Dragging out the name, he grabbed the moon’s hand, only to feel like he’d touched ice.
Tsurumaru Kuninaga blinked. “Your hand’s freezing.”
Why’s it so cold?
“ Tsurumaru.”
“Yeah?”
“I’m so sleepy… I think I’m about to pass out.”
Before he finished, his body slumped, collapsing toward the person beside him.
Tsurumaru Kuninaga’s eyes widened in shock, arms shooting out to catch him.
“ Mikazuki!”
Then he heard steady breathing from the neck he was holding.
Tsurumaru Kuninaga: “…”
He’s… asleep?!
Tsurumaru Kuninaga couldn’t wrap his head around it and was utterly floored.
Talk about quality sleep…
—
Heart racing with excitement, Yamanbakiri Kunihiro hurried along the corridor.
Mikazuki-dono’s words… they meant he wouldn’t stop him anymore, right?
Or maybe he just didn’t want to deal with him…
They say each contract signed boosts the Saniwa’s physical condition to varying degrees, depending on the tsukumogami’s strength.
His master was way too skinny.
Not that being slim is bad or anything…
But a bit more weight would make him healthier, right?
Hmm… the Saniwa ate so much today and his stomach didn’t even bulge. Maybe he’s just naturally skinny.
Recalling their first mission, when his master swallowed a Retrograde Troop twice his size in one gulp, Yamanbakiri Kunihiro worried himself sick.
Doesn’t gain weight from eating and loves munching on random stuff.
The sun was bright today, clumps of ivy twining around the lacquered pillars, casting intricate shadows when the light hit them.
Yamanbakiri Kunihiro looked up, squinting as the sunlight stung his eyes, quickly shielding them with the back of his hand.
He still didn’t like the sun.
—
A bit later, he spotted the Saniwa at the corridor’s corner.
Along with four other comrades.
From a distance, he saw… saw the Saniwa and his comrades huddled together, heads forming a circle.
Yamanbakiri Kunihiro hesitated.
They’re that close already?
Getting closer, he realized they were… playing a game?
Each held a phone, sitting on tiny stools. A table nearby had four phone boxes stacked up, their packaging tossed in the trash.
Super wholesome.
Leading the pack was the Saniwa, radiating energy like a feisty rooster amid blasting kill sound effects and background music. His mouth was like a machine gun, rapid-firing words.
“If you suck, practice more—what’s with the whining?”
“Think it’s OP? If it’s so OP, go climb the ranks with it!”
Yamanbakiri Kunihiro rubbed his eyes hard, unable to believe what he was seeing.
“ Kashuu, stop diving into fights—you’re a mage, you gotta camp in the bushes.”
He heard the Saniwa dispensing life-coach-level advice on proper bush-camping. The latter looked enlightened, staring intensely at his phone screen, long nails clacking rhythmically on it, somehow keeping perfect tempo.
“My nails keep misclicking…” Kashuu Kiyomitsu mumbled.
He’d painted them with fresh polish a few days ago, loving how they looked, but now he was quietly annoyed.
Long nails meant accidental skill triggers if he wasn’t careful.
Yamanbakiri Kunihiro: “…”
He gave himself a mental slap.
I’m… definitely not awake.
“… Yamanbakiri, you’re here!” Hearing the familiar mental slap, Lin Ge tore his eyes from the screen, raising his voice to greet him.
He wondered: What’s up with Yamanbakiri, smacking himself?
“We’re in a five-man squad—hang on a sec!”
Nothing bonds fake workplace friendships like a five-stack.
If there’s something better, it’s just not stacking enough.
With that, he went back to commanding the battlefield.
“ Hirano, why’s a support chasing their marksman? I know you’re antsy, but chill.”
Yamanbakiri Kunihiro: “…”
Hesitating for two seconds, he obediently grabbed a stool and sat closest to the Saniwa, curiously peeking at the little figure darting around on his screen.
He was sure he’d only been with Mikazuki-dono for twenty-something minutes, not days.
How’d it turn into this?
Yamanbakiri Kunihiro chalked it up to the Saniwa’s special knack for making friends and raw charisma.
After all, even he was willingly tamed, practically begging to wear a collar and sign a contract.
—
After who-knows-how-long, a triumphant victory jingle blared from the speakers. His master pocketed his phone, a glint of joy in his eyes.
MVP jungler, easy win.
The other tsukumogami looked thrilled too, egging Lin Ge on for another round.
Way more fun than lying in bed overthinking.
“After washing dishes, I noticed there’s signal here, so I thought I’d play a round to unwind…” Clicking to start matchmaking, Lin Ge multitasked, explaining to Yamanbakiri Kunihiro. “They seemed super into it… so I placed a few orders from the Saniwa shop.”
Lin Ge was almost moved to tears by his own kindness.
Who wouldn’t give him a good guy award?
New accounts need to clear tutorials and newbie missions, and the tsukumogami didn’t have IDs for verification.
Government black tech could whip up fake IDs, but Lin Ge wasn’t patient enough to wait for them to slog through tutorials. So he bought some low-rank accounts from a reseller site, re-bound them to fresh fake IDs, and handed them out to his colleagues.
Of course, he got himself a full-skin account.
Burned through his coins like nobody’s business.
All about that premium experience.
Besides Kashuu Kiyomitsu, the other three tsukumogami were short swords: Gotou Toushirou, Midare Toushirou, and Hirano Toushirou.
Cute as heck, but they looked like they’d barely started elementary school.
With underage protections in the game, Lin Ge had to slap a “genetic dwarfism” condition on their fake IDs.
He didn’t dare show them, afraid his colleagues would chop him into mincemeat in a rage. Once verified, he stashed the IDs in his inventory, vowing they’d never see the light of day.
Lin Ge had also secretly messaged Gojo Satoru.
No reply—maybe he was busy?
Was he mad?
Or got dragged off to play tool man again?
Kinda worrying…
—
The rabbit plush Principal Yaga gave him was tucked in his inventory. Lin Ge planned to take it out later to set on his bedside as decor.
Or maybe have the tsukumogami try infusing it with spiritual energy to see if it could move like it would with cursed energy.
A cute, poop-free bunny—who could resist?
Yamanbakiri Kunihiro: “…”
What a weird language.
Signal—he got that.
With signal, you can call or browse online.
But Honmaru had signal?
News to him.
Not even a signal tower around…
So mystical.
“I got you one too.” While the game was matchmaking, Lin Ge shot the golden-haired tsukumogami a sly wink.
We’ll duo later.
I’ll carry you to the stars, to king rank.
We’re tight—you’re safe with me!
Back in the day, he was a certified small-country troll!
Skill’s right here.
Catching his drift, Yamanbakiri Kunihiro: “…Haha.”
Should he thank the Saniwa for his generosity?
“Oh, right.”
After picking his hero, Lin Ge dug the rabbit plush out of his inventory and handed it to Yamanbakiri Kunihiro. “Try infusing it with spiritual energy? They say it’ll move.”
Wanna see what it looks like when it does!
Principal Yaga had rushed off to a meeting, and he’d forgotten to ask him to show how it moves with cursed energy.
Leaving Yamanbakiri just sitting there watching him game felt wrong—better give him something to do!
I play games, you play with the bunny—bright futures for both of us!
Stunned for a moment, Yamanbakiri Kunihiro gingerly took the fluffy rabbit plush.
It felt soft, like sinking into a cloud.
He tried wrapping it in spiritual energy. A golden glow flashed, and the rabbit’s eyes… blinked.
Yamanbakiri Kunihiro’s eyes widened.
It actually moves?
He couldn’t wait to share the news with the Saniwa, but seeing him already deep in the game, he swallowed his words.
Later… he’d tell him later.
He gently pinched the rabbit’s ears, his eyes sparkling with delight.
—
Tokyo Jujutsu High School
“It’s reacting, Satoru.”
Purple flames flickered as Masamichi Yaga wolfed down his last bite of burger, closing his eyes to sense the direction of the cursed doll.
Tapping his fingers on the table, Gojo Satoru hummed, his tone vague. “Where?”
Masamichi Yaga frowned. “It’s faint…”
Then his eyes snapped open, lighting up. “Got it… someone’s channeling energy into it.”
But… it didn’t feel quite like cursed energy.
Maybe the distance?
He casually formed a technique, and a projector-like device appeared on the wall. After a brief lag, an image flickered onto the white surface.
First thing they saw was Lin Ge’s profile.
Gojo Satoru subtly relaxed, barely noticeable.
Good.
He’s fine.
Lin Ge was hyper-focused, fingers flying so fast they left afterimages. As the two wondered what he was doing, the view shifted down, and his rapid-fire voice rang out.
“Enemy jungler, stand up and talk, huh? Talk!”
“Thought you were hot stuff—this is it? This?”
“Don’t push—give ‘em a chance. Let’s see how these losers try to flip this!”
Masamichi Yaga: “…”
Gojo Satoru: “…”
Huh?
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Eexeee[Translator]
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