Chapter 99: Yukinoshita's Sense of Ease
The situation wasn't entirely dire. If these had been the actual Chaos Daemons and Ruinous Powers of Hachiman's memories, the world would already be over.
Even a low-ranking Greater Daemon of Nurgle—the "benevolent" green grandfather—could unleash a zombie plague so virulent it would require a Cyclonic Torpedo to purge.
The entities Hachiman now faced were "juvenile" gods born only a thousand years ago from the prayers of a pre-industrial human civilization. They couldn't compare to galactic predators that had feasted on the malice of entire species for thirty or forty millennia. In the Warp, even the youngest of the Four—Slaanesh, the Prince of Pleasure—was born from the psychic collapse of an intergalactic Eldar Empire that had spent ten thousand years in debauchery.
Compared to that, these were just "Super Curses Plus." Hachiman couldn't apply all his old knowledge to them; Curses had existed for eons, and it was only a matter of probability that a few exceptional individuals would rise. If these gods were truly capable of total conquest, they would have descended a thousand years ago. They wouldn't have waited for Hachiman to retire and live a quiet life for over a decade.
By refining their power, Hachiman could obtain Faith Power—an essence specifically lethal to Daemons while harmless to humans. The real problem was that these "messengers" and nascent gods wouldn't show their faces. The operating principles of the Ghost Post Office remained a mystery. If it decided to go dormant for another millennium, Hachiman's mortal lifespan wouldn't outlast it.
"If only I had a sample," he mused.
The "First Messenger" he had encountered—Hagoromo Gitsune—was useless for research. She was the Post Office's "favored daughter," and despite receiving a blessing from a war-like deity, not a trace of that power remained on Hachiman's chainsword.
He needed to capture a real daemon or messenger alive to study how to track them.
In his old world, the Gods were picky. Khorne loved powerful warriors; Tzeentch preferred sorcerers like the Thousand Sons; and Slaanesh sought out those with artistic talent—musicians, painters, and singers.
One of the most infamous Imperial tragedies involved a Terran singer possessed by a daemon, whose voice drove an entire expeditionary fleet into madness.
Because of this, Hachiman didn't look down on high school girls starting bands.
You never knew when an artistic awakening might turn into a cursed one.
For now, he used a crude but effective method: placing psychic sensors across Tokyo to monitor for high-frequency anomalies. When the time came, he would show them the ruthlessness of an Imperial veteran.
But first, he had to fix his chainsword. He planned to use the metal from the broken "Hell Blade" he had snatched from the fox. Under his touch, the blade's demonic aura had vanished, leaving only high-quality steel.
He needed a professional, specifically an old master of the Shinkage-ryu style, to reforge the blade.
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While Hachiman was texting his contacts in the Kamo Clan to source reinforcement materials, he heard a door open next door. He checked his smart doorbell.
Yukinoshita Yukino was waiting for the elevator. She was dressed in a green tracksuit with her hair in a high ponytail, looking sharp. She was doing stretches while she waited.
'Is she going for a morning jog?' Hachiman thought. 'Exercise is a good way to vent.'
Seeing her like this relieved him. If she had been cooped up in her room looking haggard, he would have worried. But her eyes were resolute.
He felt his recent habit of monitoring her—even if intended for her safety—might be excessive. She was an adult; she deserved her own life.
Unbeknownst to him, Yukino was far from "normal." Having witnessed the power of the fox and the Four Saints, she felt as if her weak, former self had died.
She was now a vessel for a power that could change the world.
"I have to improve my physical stamina," she told herself. "I can't be the one holding the fox back."
Inside her mind, Hagoromo Gitsune was also fuming.
She hated the "Fujiwara brat" (Hachiman). A thousand years ago, the Fujiwara clan had slaughtered her fox tribe just to force her out and turn her into a shikigami.
She had been tortured for a century before being buried with the clan head.
Now, encountering someone with the same technique—and far more terrifying strength—made the fox feel like a fish waiting to die on a cutting board.
The fox wanted Yukino to move house immediately. Living on the same floor as that monster was a nightmare. But she couldn't tell Yukino the truth; she didn't want to break Yukino's current "sense of ease."
Yukino didn't feel evil.
She felt that her missions—like the "Decimation" in the prison—were actually beneficial to the world, as they eliminated dangerous curse users. She decided the best strategy was to stay low-profile.
"If I can't beat the Association, I'll just avoid them."
The Post Office was working her hard because she was currently the only messenger. She felt like a "corporate slave" for a criminal organization with no future. To survive, she needed to be fit.
Cursed energy was already beginning to reshape her body in unexpected ways. She looked down at her chest and blushed.
"It's getting a bit tight."
She didn't want to die before experiencing life. She decided to train so she could handle the fox's techniques herself. She even considered "self-reporting" her future crimes to the authorities to prevent things from getting out of hand.
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While Yukino was jogging, Hachiman's door opened to a smiling Nagasaki Soyo. She was in her Tsukinomori Academy uniform, holding a lunchbox wrapped in blue cloth.
"For you, Hikigaya-kun. As thanks for taking care of me," she said, her face flushed.
Hachiman accepted it, surprised. Since he was in the band's group chat, he knew they had their first rehearsal yesterday. Soyo looked refreshed, as if the new band had rejuvenated her.
"Thank you, Soyo. Friends help each other out; you didn't have to."
The word "friends" made Soyo's expression soften beautifully.
"It's no trouble at all."
She didn't mention she had woken up at dawn to prepare it, especially since a helicopter's roar had kept her up most of the night. She bowed gracefully and left, her heart racing with joy.
'He said we're friends! This is a great start!'
However, as Soyo left the apartment complex, her smile vanished. Standing at the gate was someone she didn't want to see: Takamatsu Tomori.
Tomori looked haggard, but Soyo didn't care. She tried to walk past, ignoring her.
"Wait, Soyo-chan!" Tomori called out.
Soyo quickened her pace, but Tomori lunged forward and grabbed her wrist. Soyo tried to shake her off, but she was stunned. Tomori's grip was like iron—stronger than even Taki's. It felt as if five steel bars were crushing her wrist.
"Ow!" Soyo winced. Tomori panicked and immediately let go, leaving five red finger marks on Soyo's pale skin.
"What do you want?" Soyo rubbed her wrist, glaring.
"I heard... you started a new band," Tomori said, her voice trembling. "So... we want a showdown. A battle of the bands."
"?" Soyo was confused.
The Tomori she knew would never be this aggressive.
"If we win," Tomori said, her eyes burning with a strange, unnatural talent, "Soyo-chan has to come back."
Tomori had signed her name in blood, trading her soul for the musical genius to win back her friends.
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Meanwhile, in the Ghost Post Office, Yukino received a new prompt. The "Believer Count" for the God of Love and Joy had just ticked up by one.
Her new mission: [Incarnation Resurrection].
Object: The Undying.
Tool provided: The Whip of Torment.
Curiously, her patron—the God of Courage—felt furious about this task.
The "Gods" were already at each other's throats.
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