"So you're saying… we're rich now?"
Back home, Natsuya was nearly blinded by the string of zeros on the bank slip Shirou had casually shown her. Her eyes looked ready to turn into currency symbols as she leaned in like a cat catching the scent of fish, her nose almost touching the thin sheet of paper.
"Mind your wording. What do you mean by 'we'?"
Shirou raised a hand in an unyielding grip, pushing her head back with just enough force to keep her from getting closer—without actually shoving her away. Natsuya stepped back, rubbing her forehead, her high ponytail drawing an arc through the air.
"Learn to keep your distance, Natsuya the assistant. My home isn't the same as your home."
She puffed her cheeks in mock indignation. "Hey, I'm at least a paying tenant for room and board! We live under the same roof—rounding up, we're basically family!"
"Oh? Let's recall your stance before you moved in… That's right—'I value my dignity, won't live off handouts, and will never shamelessly freeload.' What now? You changing your tune and slapping your own face?"
Her smug expression froze, and she stammered, "Well… times change! You know the saying—'A great man can bend and stretch!'"
"Are you a great man?" Shirou cut in without mercy.
"Then flip it—'A fine lady can stretch and bend too!'" she shot back.
"That's not how the saying works!"
Shirou flicked her on the head, and she bared her teeth in protest, her ponytail swaying like reeds stirring moonlight on a riverbank.
"Alright, enough chatter. Time to get dinner ready—come help!"
"Coming, coming… Hey, rich man, any pay for kitchen help?"
Shirou waved her off. "Sure!"
———
Chef Shirou sliced Kobe beef that had rested for half an hour into thin sheets, flicking his wrist so each piece arced gracefully before landing over binchōtan coals.
He took a bowl of tempura batter from Natsuya, added ice water, and stirred gently. The shrimp tails curled up like crescents in the coating.
Natsuya, meanwhile, wrapped mackerel sushi—combining grilled fillets with daikon simmered in mirin and soy, along with vinegared rice and crisp nori. The mackerel's aroma thickened in the warm kitchen air.
Shirou brought over an earthen teapot, watching the beef on the grill while prepping chicken and enoki mushrooms for matsutake dobinmushi…
With the two working together, the table was set in no time.
"Dinner's ready!"
They carried dishes from kitchen to table, porcelain clinking on wood, steam curling in the warm light.
Erii sat quietly, her deep-rose eyes following them, like watching a far-off scene of ordinary life.
"Erii, not feeling well?"
Shirou noticed her fingers curled slightly—a telltale sign of her unease. She shook her head, flipping open her notebook:
"Feels warm. Like a home, but not the family's home—a real home outside."
She held it up. Simple words, but easy to understand. Then she turned the page:
"Want to help, but don't know how."
Naturally. In her clan, she was treated like a princess in a golden cage—first step into a kitchen and a stray splash of oil, and the whole cooking staff would be prostrating in apology.
Not that they'd ever let her near danger—not because the kitchen was unsafe, but because she was. If her powers slipped out of control, the result would be far worse.
Erii knew this. Since the day the shadow appeared and spoke to her, she'd understood more clearly what it meant to be a "monster."
The shadow hadn't returned since, and her days had passed quietly. But deep inside, a seed of unease had been planted.
She could almost hear a dark, serpentine whisper telling her she wasn't harmless—that someday she would lose control, become an enemy of the world. That day would come, sooner or later.
How long could she enjoy this warmth?
"Helping can wait. The thought's enough. Don't just sit there—eat while it's hot."
He set a golden shrimp tempura in her bowl. The rising heat made those dark thoughts recede, if only for now.
At least tonight, she could pretend she was just a normal girl, savoring a simple, precious dinner.
———
Late that night, Shirou spread out small scraps of paper, jotting notes into his own notebook.
They were messages exchanged with Nono.
Though limited in movement while posing as Erii, she'd gathered useful intel—including that Erii sometimes experienced loss of control, requiring constant medical and psychological monitoring.
"Loss of control… So she is being treated as a vessel for a 'god'?"
He also copied down Nono's latest report via Melusine: she'd found folding screens hidden in Minamoto Heavy Industries, covered in strange, symbolic imagery—likely of great importance to the clan.
But Melusine's knowledge of human art was lacking; to her, the designs were meaningless squiggles.
Nono promised she could read the hidden meaning if she got the chance.
Shirou skimmed past her self-praise, keeping only the useful details.
Finally, he listed the "Eight Family Heads," noting in small script beside some names: suspected Ghost Faction sympathizers.
———
Morning sunlight filtered through paper screens, gilding the empty courtyard in gold.
Natsuya buried herself in a mountain of old texts for her history project, occasionally asking Shirou for input.
After last night's dinner, Erii seemed more lively, moving softly, her red hair catching the morning light.
Natsuya glanced at her strangely—same red hair, same closeness to Shirou…
Didn't this look familiar?
"This time, I'm researching the Heian period's most famous oni-slaying general—Minamoto no Raikou."
She spread her findings across the table, stacking so many books their shadow nearly swallowed her, like a student facing an ocean of conflicting sources.
"In reality, Raikou's achievements weren't that grand—mostly laying the groundwork with her brother Minamoto no Yorimitsu for the Seiwa Minamoto clan's future. But in legend, her feats far outshine other Minamoto."
She flipped open an old Otogizōshi, its yellowed pages smelling faintly of centuries-old smoke.
"She's credited with three great oni hunts: killing Shuten Dōji, stopping the earth spider of Mt. Katsuragi, and slaying the ox demon of Sensō-ji."
"The first two are clear. The third is debated." She opened another book.
"One version says Raikou's father, Minamoto no Mitsunaka, had another child before Raikou—possessed by the god of Kitano Tenjin, born in the year, month, and hour of the ox, after a three-year, three-month pregnancy. The child had horns and a demon's face, causing endless omens."
Erii's pupils widened at the eerie tale.
"Mitsunaka saw it as a curse and abandoned the baby. Some say a court lady secretly raised it; others that monks from Sensō-ji took it in. It grew into the fearsome ox demon, 'Ushi Gozen.'"
"Ushi Gozen fought Raikou and her Four Heavenly Kings, eventually falling into the Sumida River, transforming into a giant ox over ten meters tall, killing many, and vanishing without a trace."
"The identity of Ushi Gozen is odd—some say Mitsunaka's eldest son, others note 'Gozen' was a title for noblewomen in the Heian period, meaning she was his daughter. Some think the whole child was fictional."
Natsuya sighed, closing the book heavily. Her problem wasn't lack of sources—it was too many contradictory ones.
Shirou suggested, "Why not combine them all?"
"What?"
"For example—Raikou could be female and the same person as Ushi Gozen—two sides of one coin."
(End of Chapter)
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