I loaded the geek game

This world.

Arakawa Ward, Tokyo.

Kamiya family.

This small detached house escaped destruction during the ultimate night parade of one hundred demons that swept through Tokyo. After a simple renovation and thorough cleaning, it was restored to a habitable state.

Previously, in order to avoid the unpredictable consequences that the final battle might bring, Kamiya had moved the ghosts who had lived there for a long time, most of whom were not very powerful, to a safer area in the world of the dead.

And today, everyone has finally returned here.

Subtle sounds, cheerful conversations, and the soft clatter of objects being put back in their places filled the detached house once again.

Those ghost stories who had long regarded this place as their "home" dispersed into the familiar corners like fish in water, dispelling the chill of months of emptiness. Their patriarch, Kamiyagawa, however, was delayed by official business in Takamagahara and only now pushed open the door to enter.

However, he did not immediately join in; instead, he went up the stairs alone.

The wooden steps creaked softly and familiarly, leading him to a room on the second floor.

Kamiya wanted to take another good look around.

Every piece of furniture and every seemingly random decoration in this detached house might be a personal necessity he once bought; or perhaps souvenirs he brought back from his earlier "adventures" with his family's ghost stories, before he shouldered too many responsibilities, each with its own thrilling or comical tale; or maybe little trinkets that witnessed Little Deer and Little Sunflower's learning and growth here—

A small wooden dragonfly carving, a note with notes from the Kanoya school, two ordinary Edo-style Kiriko crystal glasses...

Most of them are not expensive, made of ordinary materials, and not particularly well-made; some even appear rough or strange.

But at this moment, sunlight streamed through the freshly wiped windows on the second floor, casting warm dappled patterns on the floor, while fine dust particles floated in the air. Surrounded by these familiar things, even in Kamiya River today, one could still feel a strange sense of tranquility.

After spending some time quietly in his room, Kamiyagawa emerged and strolled slowly down the second-floor corridor. His gaze habitually swept over the familiar study door—a room that had long been used by a certain capricious and eccentric telephone addict, her private "boudoir."

Kamiya glanced at the closed door.

On the door, a small whiteboard, about the size of a palm, with gaudy fox stickers around the edges, hung on it. On the whiteboard, a line of large, bold characters were written in marker, their strokes exaggerated and unnatural—

[No fodder allowed in Kamiya!!!]
Below the handwriting is a simple line drawing of a round-faced, puffed-up little man with a figurative angry symbol on his head.

Wu's handwriting.

Hmm... a warning sign that serves only to express the owner's strong emotions and for decorative purposes.

There are no binding forces.

But today, Kamiya didn't push the door open and enter as usual.

Because enlightenment is not contained within it.

With that capricious phone caller gone, the study was just an ordinary empty room. The pleasure of intrusion and the inevitable noisy retaliation that followed were part of his familiar "daily routine."

In fact, it's not just about enlightenment. At this moment, Wenche Yaofei, along with several other core shikigami, are still in the mortal world, dealing with the myriad follow-up tasks from the early stages of the new Takamagahara system, and have not yet returned.

However, everyone had agreed beforehand that they would all be back before dinner.

……

Kamiya walked slowly down from the second floor. As soon as he reached the corner of the stairs, his view naturally looked down at the kitchen on the first floor.

The kitchen space was currently completely occupied by the five members of the hearse convoy.

The honest and simple-minded Mikami brothers stood side by side in front of the sink. One meticulously washed the bright green cabbage, while the other clumsily but carefully picked out the stems of the shiitake mushrooms, the water gurgling loudly.

Xiao Yuan had long since taken center stage on the cutting board, his cleaver moving with steady, rhythmic "clang, clang" as he sliced ​​a large piece of bright red beef into evenly thick slices.

In front of the stove, two pots were burning simultaneously. In one deep pot, clear broth was bubbling gently with fine, warm bubbles; in the other, a frying pan was sizzling and emitting an enticing aroma. Oishi Shunma and Takayama Mai stood guard in front of the stew pot and the frying pan, one carefully turning the ingredients in the pot, while the other prepared the sauce.

The sounds of rushing water, steady chopping, gentle boiling, and intense grilling blended together, stirring up the rich aroma of heated oil in the air.

"Shunma, grill a few more pieces of tofu? I remember that Ms. Zashiki and Ms. Kanoya ate quite a lot last time," Takayama Mai reminded him while tasting the saltiness of the sauce.

"Hey! The grilled tofu in the sukiyaki is soaked up all the broth, it tastes so good...!" Oishi Shunma chimed in, then turned to Ohara Hayami and called out, "Hayami, chop up some more onions later! Sukiyaki is all about having lots of onions, and it tastes best when it's sweet and soft!"

We're having sukiyaki tonight.

The strange tales in the house all seem to have a particular fondness for this dish—

It can bring together all kinds of ingredients with different characteristics in one pot, and let them soak in each other in the boiling broth, just the right amount of wonderful and lively flavor.

"Uh-huh!"

Upon hearing his cousin's instructions, Xiao Yuan nodded seriously and completed a segment of his focused meat-cutting action.

But just as he put down the cleaver and turned to get an onion from the ingredient basket, he bumped right into Hiroshi Mikami behind him.

"Yeah!"

A short, startled cry.

With a "pop," Xiaoyuan's head detached from her smooth neck and floated upwards, wobbling, until it landed next to the ceiling light in the kitchen, blinking blankly and innocently.

"Uh?!"

"Not long ago!"

"Head, head!"

"Don't use the spatula! You idiot!"

The kitchen, which had been relatively orderly and well-organized, was instantly thrown into chaos.

Kamiya River stood on the stairs, taking in the entire scene.

Sister Ohara...

While she is undeniably dashing when charging into battle as a headless knight, in the mundane details of daily life, she seems to always possess a touch of naiveté and absent-mindedness.

Kamiya came down the stairs; the noise from the kitchen hadn't stopped. Meanwhile, on the other side of the hallway—

From the basement passageway leading from the first-floor storage room, several scrawled, bright red lines merrily "grow" out and meander up the corridor walls.

Following closely behind the lines was a red crayon tip about the length of a thumb.

The red crayon moved nimbly along the wall, leaving behind two simple yet lively abstract doodles where the tip of the crayon passed.

Those are two little stick figures—

A girl with pigtails, and a telephone was drawn on her.

The other one identified himself by holding a long knife and having a thunder symbol above his head.

To be honest... it has a certain figurative quality within its abstractness.

"Squeak!"

Following Caizhi as she emerged from the basement was the panting, furious rat-like creature, Gouchang.

The furry body of the dog looked disheveled, its paws struggling to lift a wooden basin larger than itself above its head. Meanwhile, the white-haired creature, which served as its "rag," hovered around the dog, trying to help it steady itself.

In front.

The crayon tip bounced nimbly on the wall, then changed direction and darted towards the end of the corridor. Just as it passed by Kamiya, the little crayon landed with a thud, defying the laws of physics.

The bright red lines intertwined, and then continuously seeped out rich oil paint, eventually transforming into a little girl wearing a princess dress.

Aya, now in human form, bowed obediently to Kamiya before running happily toward the garage in the corridor.

"Squeak!"

Kaguya, who was trying to catch up, arrived late and was already in a flustered state. Unlike the powerful and composed Aya, she was caught off guard and bumped straight into Kamiya's feet.

Bang!

The wooden basin swayed above Gou Chang's head with a muffled thud. It contained water that sloshed around, but Gou Chang, feeling dizzy and disoriented, instinctively managed to steady it, preventing much from spilling.

Then, the mouse itself plopped down on the ground, shaking its head in a daze.

When it finally saw that it was Kamiya River in front of it, it was so frightened that its fur stood on end. It hurriedly got up, not even caring about the basin, and bowed to Kamiya River vigorously and frequently.

A ghost story as weak as this one wouldn't even have the courage to look directly at the Kamiya River in Takamagahara.

After performing the initial instinctive, respectful apology, the mouse seemed to remember something and immediately became agitated.

"Squeak! Squeak!"

It cried out urgently, using its hands and feet, sometimes pointing towards the path where the colorful fabric disappeared in the direction of the garage, sometimes pointing to the newly made abstract graffiti on the wall, and finally hugging its furry head with its paws in distress, making a "headache" gesture.

That's really... a very vivid complaint.

Kamiya's gaze followed the direction where Aya had disappeared, and he saw that several more crooked "family" graffiti had been added to the white wall along the corridor leading to the garage.

Three ferocious masks, a heavy machete, a small bell, five balloons, and two girls...

This time, because of the use of oil paint, the graffiti images are more distinct.

Kamiyagawa could even directly identify that the two girls had drawn a deer and a sunflower.

As for Aya's disappearance at the garage door, that was her greatest "masterpiece"—a large rat with bristling whiskers and glaring eyes.

Kamiyagawa: "..."

Perhaps because she was finally home after a long time, Aya was a little too excited.

But marking territory like a puppy seems a bit excessive, especially for a diligent dog...

Kamiya did not immediately reprimand or stop Aya's childish "destructive behavior," but instead turned his gaze back to the helpless Goku, who was still trying to "appeal" at his feet.

Then he bent down and gently patted the furry head of the dog, which was trembling slightly with nervousness.

“I’ll discipline her. I’ll make Aya clean it all up herself later. And… maybe we should ask Takamagahara to figure out a way to promote you to Aragami too.” He paused, his gaze sweeping over the “family portrait” graffiti on the wall again. “Otherwise, you’ll probably have an increasingly hard time dealing with Aya…”

……

After giving a brief lecture to Aya, who had been playing too wildly, and instructing Goku to "supervise" the little girl to clean up the bright red graffiti on the corridor walls, Kamiya went straight to the more spacious and quiet living room.

The atmosphere in the living room was completely different from the noise in the hallway.

The afternoon sun of late summer streamed through the clean glass, casting a warm glow across the tatami mats. The delicate aroma of freshly brewed tea mingled with the subtle, refreshing scent of indoor plants, creating a tranquil and soothing atmosphere.

Mary, Hannya, Zashiki-warashi, and Onizuka Kiri Hotaru are all gathered here at this moment.

Onizuka was kneeling before a low table, in front of her a complete set of exquisite matcha utensils. Her expression was focused, her movements skillful and elegant, as she performed the final step of the "tea preparation" in the art of matcha. Her slender wrists stirred the tea whisk steadily and rhythmically until fine, dense, emerald-green foam gradually rose to the surface of the tea bowl.

The tea is ready.

Onizuka held the simple and elegant teacup in both hands, but instead of drinking from it, she gently pushed it toward Hannya, who was sitting opposite her.

Prajna quietly accepted the teacup, her eyes lowered, her gaze fixed on the deep turquoise water within. She brought the bowl to her lips and took a small sip. After a moment, she nodded slightly, saying nothing, but her expression showed considerable satisfaction, clearly indicating her high regard for Onizuka's skill.

Then, the teacup was passed around.

The next person to receive the throne was Mary, who was sitting a little distance away from Prajna.

She picked up the teacup, and mimicking Prajna's gesture, brought the rim of the bowl close to her lips and took a sip.

Then, expressionless, he shook his head very slightly.

"I did it, I did it."

Finally, the teacup was passed to the Zashiki, who had been waiting on the sidelines, curiously peeking out.

Seeing Zashiki's enthusiasm, Hannya, sitting next to her, simply stared at her with interest and a hint of anticipation.

Fu Bao had long been intrigued by the peculiar green color and the unique fragrance in the air. Following Hannya's example, she held the teacup, which was a bit too big for her, with both hands and carefully took a large sip.

"Well!"

The next second, overwhelmed by the unique, slightly bitter yet rich flavor of matcha, Zashiki's delicate eyebrows furrowed, and her chubby cheeks puffed up like little buns.

Beside her, Prajna's eyes flashed with a barely perceptible smile. She didn't speak, but gently smoothed out the cute wrinkles on the little girl's cheeks with her slender, white fingers.

"ah--"

Zashiki let out a small, ambiguous sigh, glancing at the teacup in her hand with slight disappointment, before looking at Onizuka, whose eyes and brows were smiling. It was something she had spent a long time making, something she had put a lot of effort into, but it tasted like… well, Zashiki didn't quite understand it.

Fu Bao, who loves sweet red bean rice, clearly couldn't appreciate it.

At that moment, the sliding door to the living room was silently opened, and Kamiyagawa walked in.

His arrival did not seem to disrupt the peaceful and harmonious atmosphere in the room.

However, Onizuka Kiri Hotaru, who was secretly amused by Mary's "shaking her head" and Zashiki's "frowning", looked up and saw him. She quickly turned her face away slightly, her ears turning slightly red.

As for Mary and Prajna, they both seemed normal, or rather... used to it.
Mary merely glanced at him with her deep, calm eyes before turning her gaze back to her hands folded in front of her skirt; Prajna simply adjusted her kneeling posture slightly, her eyes lingering meaningfully on his face for a brief moment before lowering them, as if he were merely a moving piece of furniture in the room.

"ah!"

The only one with a completely different reaction was the Zashiki-warashi, who didn't try to interpret the complex and subtle emotions on the "adults'" faces at all.

She hasn't seen Kamiyagawa for several days!

At that moment, Fu Bao's bright eyes were instantly lit up by pure joy and a desire to share.

She immediately and carefully picked up the large teacup she hadn't completely put down, then skipped happily to Kamiyagawa, stood on tiptoe, and held the still warm bowl of matcha, frothy with delicate foam, high in the air, offering it to him—

My father used to drink a bitter and astringent black beverage.

Maybe... I'll like this?

Zashiki's little face was full of anticipation, "Try it!" but mixed with a hint of mischievousness, like "This tastes really special."

"Oh! Look, look!"

After offering the teacup, she seemed to feel it wasn't enough. Instead of immediately stepping back, she gracefully twirled in front of Kamiyagawa.

As she twirled, her exquisite furisode kimono flowed out completely. One could clearly see that the fabric, which should have been adorned with auspicious red patterns, was now as pure as the first snow.

As Kamiya looked at the cheerfully displayed zashiki and her spotless white dress, for a moment, he felt as if he wasn't seeing the little girl in front of him, but rather as countless warm, peaceful, and serene "blessings" themselves, materialized in the form of this figure who had just run towards him.

The thought flashed through my mind, but was quickly pulled back to reality by Zashiki's expectant gaze.

He raised the teacup and drank it.

A white zashiki-warashi (a type of Japanese house spirit).

No longer the little household god of legend with limited abilities, bringing both fortune and misfortune.

Rather, it is something that truly washes away all calamities and misfortunes, leaving only the purest and warmest "blessings" within one's being—

mascot. (End of chapter)