— — — — — —
Breakfast was peaceful.
Matsuyoi barely touched her food. She just kept dabbing at Kira's mouth with a handkerchief, fussing over him the way she always did.
Kira didn't resist. After eighteen years, this kind of morning felt as natural as breathing.
When they finished, Matsuyoi carefully wiped the corner of his lips again before getting up to clear the table.
"Auntie, I'm going out for a walk," Kira called toward the kitchen.
"Go ahead," her gentle voice floated back. "Training is important, but so is keeping your mind calm."
Kira stepped outside the main hall, through the gates of the mansion, and into the ruins of the old city.
Keep your mind calm.
That was his aunt's constant lesson. Having power was only the first step. Learning to control it was the real test. Otherwise, you were just a beast driven by your strength.
A yokai wasn't a yokai simply because it had energy and intelligence—it needed control. Without that, it was nothing more than a rampaging monster.
Humans were the same. Strength without control was just another kind of madness.
That was why, besides his endless hours of punching, kicking, and blade practice, Kira also trained his mind—following Matsuyoi's teachings, learning to balance himself.
A quiet walk after breakfast had become part of that routine, something unshakable in his daily rhythm.
"Come to think of it…" Kira murmured as he walked past broken walls and collapsed towers, "should I start fixing this place up?"
A city. His city. Kira, after all, was the city lord.
In this chaotic world, only extraordinary people had the right to rule a city.
Of course, this particular one wasn't big—at most it could hold thirty or fifty thousand people.
And even then, only the wealthy or powerful lived inside the walls. Ordinary folks lived outside in nearby villages, citizens in name only.
As for whether their noble city lord actually looked after them? That was another story.
Without realizing it, Kira had wandered to the front gate. The once-mighty doors now lay in ruins, just a heap of weathered timber and stone.
He stared at them for a long moment, lost in thought.
Should I rebuild it? Actually take up the mantle of lord?
"Fix up the city, play the ruler, get some maids, shrine girls, maybe a few pretty yokai attendants… feast and dance all day?"
He chuckled to himself. "That does sound kind of amazing. My reading of 'Starting From Today I'll Work As A City Lord' wasn't wasted."
He couldn't help but grin.
Really, what man wouldn't be tempted by that kind of life?
In this world, being a city lord wasn't just about ruling. You were the absolute master of everyone within your walls. Even the title 'King' didn't quite compare.
Technically, every person living in the city—and even those in the surrounding villages—was part of your domain. If you fancied someone and wanted them as your companion or servant, no one would dare question it.
"Alright, enough daydreaming," Kira muttered. "I'll think about it later. Time to train."
"I refuse to believe this damn level eight would be my limit."
He let the thought go. The future was long, and in this world of monsters and yokais, strength was everything.
Otherwise, even if he rebuilt the city from the ground up, all it would take was one powerful yokai—or a top-tier onmyoji—to take it from him in a heartbeat.
And who would he even complain to?
In a world ruled by hidden powers, a strong fist was the only truth that mattered.
Kira didn't bother returning to the mansion. Instead, he stood before the ruins of the gate and began to train.
Punch after punch, move after move—each strike sharper, each motion more refined than the last.
That was the power of his traits. Even if he didn't fully understand their limits or ranks, he knew one thing for sure: as long as he worked, he improved.
Every punch meant progress. Every drop of sweat made him stronger.
That was what made his ability so terrifying.
In a world where countless humans and yokai trained for years without advancing a single step, Kira could always grow—so long as he tried.
Time slipped by quickly when he trained.
...
By late morning, he exhaled slowly, pulling his fists back to his sides. His body crackled like firecrackers popping in a row.
"No matter how many years it's been," he said between breaths, "it still feels amazing every time I get stronger."
It was addictive, really—the feeling of growth, of constant progress just through effort.
"Alright, probably lunchtime. Better head back."
He turned toward the city lord's mansion, following the same path he'd walked a thousand times before—so familiar he could've done it with his eyes closed.
But the farther he walked, the more something felt off.
"Wait... this is the bamboo forest?" he muttered, staring ahead.
A thick grove of green stretched before him, the sound of rustling leaves whispering through the air.
Technically, it made sense—the bamboo forest was still part of his estate. The city might have been able to house tens of thousands, but in reality, it was mostly empty.
The gardens, courtyards, groves, and lakes had all been private property built by previous lords.
So yes, a bamboo forest wasn't strange.
Except for one problem—he hadn't walked this way.
"I've been here before," he said, frowning. "But why now?"
A chill prickled down his spine.
"Trouble?"
He immediately tensed, senses sharpening. If something dangerous had appeared, Matsuyoi would have come running immediately.
Unless…
"...the trouble's big enough to keep even her busy."
Kira turned, heading in the opposite direction.
Yet no matter which way he walked, the bamboo forest stayed ahead of him.
He changed direction again. And again.
It didn't matter.
Every road led back to the same grove of whispering stalks.
He didn't know how long he'd been walking, but when he finally stopped, the bamboo forest was still right there in front of him—calm, quiet, and impossibly endless.
.
.
.