Untitled: Big Brother

In the center of the Plain was a large highland, but the sky was too dark to see clearly. However, lights could be seen dotting the highland, indicating that people lived there.

The eastern and western parts of the Plain differ greatly in their geological structure. To the east are highlands dotted with forests and fields, their ridges winding like ancient Runes etched into the earth.

The western side is much flatter, with several rivers meandering from the foot of the central highlands, flowing into the myriad lights.

Viewed from above, this Plain resembles an abstract painting.

Everything seemed so peaceful.

But all of this seems to have sunk into the sea, never to be reached again.

The long-haired, frizzy man stared at the scene before him, then looked at the man in Kariginu standing with him in mid-air.

The man in the Kariginu was tall and slender, his robes fluttering, and the cuffs and hem were embroidered with intricate Rice Pattern and Cloud Patterns.

He raised his hand and pointed forward, and a large number of plants surged out from mid-air, Vines and branches intertwining and rushing towards the opposite side, like a giant python twisted from tree roots and thorns.

But the person on the other side is no simple character either.

The man with the frizzy hair held only an ordinary sickle. He didn't use any special techniques, but simply the most basic Taijutsu: sidestepping, dodging, retreating, and occasionally using the sickle to cut through the approaching Vines.

His movements were clean and efficient, without any unnecessary steps; each movement landed precisely in the gaps between the growing Vines.

The long-haired man tried several times to trap or grab him, but the Vines closed in from all sides, their branches intertwining to form a cage, and he failed each time.

The man with the frizzy hair always slipped out from the gap at the last moment, swung his sickle, and cut several approaching vines.

I miscalculated.

Mokushō thought to himself, "I thought that since neither Hashirama nor Tobirama saw Tsukimiyo and didn't resonate with me, everything should be fine. But Madara is clearly different."

Unexpectedly, Tsukimiyo's concealment spell was completely ineffective against Madara.

Is it because they look too alike?

I'm not strong enough right now, and I can't lie... This is troublesome.

Mokushō did not attempt to lure them away or create any accidents.

After all, this matter had to be addressed sooner or later; continuing to conceal it would only increase the other party's suspicions.

Most importantly, they need to be informed about the plan.

Otherwise, it would be too difficult for Izuna to do it alone.

They arrived at the Shrine quickly.

Night fell heavily, and the trees appeared as grey-blue outlines in the moonlight.

Mokushō walked at the front, pushed open the door of the Main Hall, and stepped inside.

This is a huge room with tatami mats covering the floor. It takes more than ten steps to walk from the door to the opposite wall.

The surrounding walls are painted with Ukiyo-e patterns, mainly depicting flowers and birds. A calligraphy scroll hangs between the beds on the north side, with an antique bronze incense burner below it.

A beechwood cabinet stands against the west wall, its doors closed, with a connecting rope tied to a copper ring.

Beside the cabinet was a shrine, its vermilion lacquer slightly darkened, inside which were placed ancient coins and an oil lamp.

The room was spacious, and your voice echoed.

Besides that, there was only a brazier in the corner, which seemed to have never been used and was just there for decoration, looking brand new.

As instructed by Mokushō, the Crow Netsuke was placed on the wooden table in front of the shrine.

The Netsuke lay on the table, the grain of the Black Peach Wood almost invisible in the dim light, only the two ruby eyes faintly glowing, like embers still burning in the darkness.

Mokushō stood before the desk, arms crossed, his fox mask tilted slightly towards Netsuke.

"This thing..." he began, his tone carrying just the right amount of seriousness, "Is probably aimed at Izuna."

Ban stood beside him, arms crossed. "What do you mean?"

"Izuna is of the Tengu Clan bloodline, and a psychic like him naturally attracts spirits." Mokushō raised his chin. "This Tsukumogami probably sensed Izuna's presence, which is why it came to seek refuge with him, wanting to become his Shikigami."

He spoke with such conviction, as if it were absolutely true.

Madara's brows didn't relax; instead, they furrowed even more. "You mean, this thing came to Izuna on its own?"

"Probably, but it's also possible that someone dropped it on the ground while passing by. In our area, 'fate' is a form of staged accident."

"Is it possible that someone deliberately sent this thing to Izuna, intending to harm him?"

Mokushō glanced at him sideways, his eyes darting around behind the fox mask.

"While I think what you're saying is a bit too conspiratorial," he drawled, "It's not impossible."

Ban's eyes darkened, and he stared Netsuke with even greater vigilance.

Izuna stood to the side, tilting his head to look at the Netsuke. He frowned, as if he was also considering the possibility of this, but there was not much tension between his brows.

Tobirama noticed this.

From the moment he spoke, Izuna had been carrying an inexplicable air of nonchalance.

His brow was furrowed, but his movements were incredibly relaxed; he stood slouchingly, as if he wanted to find somewhere to lean against.

If they hadn't been having such a serious discussion, he probably would have sat down by now.

"What a carefree attitude," Tobirama sighed Tobirama.

No... maybe subconsciously he knew this thing wouldn't do any harm.

After all, what can Izuna say...

Tobirama recalled everything that had happened these past few days.

He would ask for permission to fly around, and he would unconsciously use a binding technique to trap a Butterfly. He would also unconsciously fly without wings, only realizing something was wrong afterward. If he couldn't remember, he would simply forget about it and wouldn't notice anything strange about it.

But Izuna isn't the kind of person who's brainless.

He is impeccable in diplomatic situations and meticulous in planning, yet he always displays an almost instinctive recklessness in these "minor" matters.

It was as if his body knew the answer before his mind.

"It all seems so troublesome," Tobirama muttered.

Izuna turned her head to look at him, her face blank. "What's so troublesome?"

Tobirama withdrew his gaze, looking expressionlessly at the shrine. "Nothing."

Madara looked at Mokushō: "Can you call out what's inside?"

Mokushō: "I'll give it a try."

He said this, then closed his eyes.

Consciousness felt as if it were being pulled out of the body by a hand, passing through a thick layer of darkness, and suddenly descending into another world.

The sound of the wind disappeared, the scent of wood from the Shrine disappeared, and even the breathing of my companions disappeared.

Before me lay that familiar Plain, the twilight pressing down on the highlands, the river meandering like a silver thread.

He stood in mid-air, the hem of his Kariginu fluttering in the wind, while the long-haired, frizzy man opposite him remained in the same position, his scythe held horizontally in front of him.

Mokushō did not continue fighting.

He took a step back.

The man seemed to sense something, took two steps forward, and his scythe, along with the chain, drew an arc as it slashed towards the spot where Mokushō had just been standing.

But Mokushō did not accept the challenge.

He leaned back, lost his footing, and fell to the ground.

The man with the knife stopped at the edge, looking down at the increasingly smaller figure below, and did not jump down after him.

The Mokushō constantly falling.

The wind whistled past his ears, billowing his Kariginu. He passed through layer after layer of clouds, his body growing lighter and thinner.

Then he fell into a blue world filled with clusters of crystals.

The sky and the earth were both deep blue, with crystal clusters growing from the ground, high and low, with sharp edges. A bluish light overflowed from inside the crystals, dyeing the entire space into a cool-toned deep sea.

He landed on the ground, stood up, and looked at the master of this world.

A figure stood amidst the clusters of crystals.

The person had their back to him, their long hair cascading over their shoulders, the ends of which were almost transparent, bathed in the light of the crystal.

"Tsukimiyo."

Tsukimiyo paused, then turned around.

The moment he saw Tsukimiyo's face, Mokushō chuckled.

"You actually wore that mask, haha! Don't you think it's too ugly and doesn't suit your taste?"

All that could be seen on Tsukimiyo's face was a long, red mask, essentially Tengu Mask, the most traditional kind.

The Tengu Mask was bad enough, but this thing even emitted an illusory black aura, making it look nine parts suspicious and ten parts suspicious of a good person.

Mokushō found it increasingly amusing and chuckled uncontrollably.

But strangely, the person he was standing next to didn't move his mouth.

The person on the other end sounded like they were gritting their teeth, "You think I want to wear it? I'm not like you; I'll definitely be recognized as soon as I go out."

So you want to go out?

"It's time. Hiding any longer isn't a solution; we need to take the initiative."

"Um..." Mokushō laughing, "Then what about your form problem?"

Tsukimiyo also fell into deep thought.

"I finally managed to get them to forget. If you turn into a Big Fan again, I won't explain for you. You'll have to face Izuna yourself."

After hearing Tsukimiyo said speechlessly, "What are you saying? Aren't I his Big Brother?"

Mokushō crossed his arms and said, "I took care of him for a longer period of time."

Tsukimiyo sneered, "You brat, aren't you afraid I'll mess you up right here?"

Mokushō shut up.

The blue light from the crystal clusters flowed along the edge of his mask, casting a chilling glow over the black aura.

Tsukimiyo was silent for a moment before slowly speaking, "Well... although I don't really want to leave, let's change the medium by renewing the Contract."

Mokushō had a bad feeling. "Wait, you don't mean to..."

Tsukimiyo seemed to grin.

Of course, because of the mask, Mokushō couldn't actually see his expression, but the layer of black mist trembled, like a flame being blown by the wind.

"What medium do you want to switch to?" Mokushō took a half step back warily.

"Don't worry about that," Tsukimiyo said in a good mood. "Alright, you can go out now and let Izuna summon me."

Mokushō: "Alright!"

Tsukimiyo remembering something, Mokushō shouted at Kisei, who was about to jump into the passage below, "Don't be lazy this time! It's weird that you can summon it with just one coin!"

Mokushō stumbled, turned around, and yelled in despair, "Can you please stop criticizing my taste?!"

"Cannot."

Mokushō rolled his eyes inwardly and stepped out, leaving the area.

Mokushō opened his eyes.

The dim light inside the Shrine returned to his eyes, and he looked at the four people standing beside him.

"We've already got his name," Mokushō said.

Ban immediately replied, "Then call him out."

"Okay." Mokushō turned around and faced the Crow Netsuke on the wooden table in front of the shrine.

"Tsukimiyo, please show yourself."

The two ruby-like eyes Netsuke lit up for a moment.

Then, a red light slowly seeped from the depths of his eyes, like a smoldering fire being blown by the wind, and then grew stronger and stronger, dyeing the entire shrine with a faint crimson hue.

Then the light fell from the Netsuke to the ground.

The light condensed in mid-air into a blurry human-shaped outline.

Hashirama said "Oh" and took a half step back.

Ban stared intently at the gradually clarifying human figure, his eyes unblinking.

The human figure in the light slowly solidified.

The human figure within the light slowly solidified.

First, a pair of bare feet silently stepped onto the tatami mat. Then came a black kimono, the hem of which reached her ankles, the fabric subtly patterned.

Two fluffy pom-poms, white with red trim, hung on his chest, swaying gently as he landed.

Above that is that face.

A red Tengu Mask was placed on his face, with a long, protruding nose and two dark red lights shining from his eye sockets.

A few wisps of faint black energy clung to the edge of the mask, floating gently against the black kimono, making it look like something out of the ordinary.

But the jawline revealed beneath the mask was that of a young boy—slender, soft, and even a little rounded, as if he hadn't fully grown up.

He didn't look up immediately after landing, but kept his head slightly lowered, as if he were a little shy. His hands hung down in front of him, his fingers unconsciously twisting together, his fingertips tapping the back of his hands.

"Hello, everyone..."

His voice was that of a young boy, clear yet with a slightly weak ending, as if he were uncomfortable being stared at by so many people.

Looking at his appearance, Ban was unsure whether to criticize the eerie black aura behind the mask or the two fluffy pom-poms on his chest.

He opened his mouth, but ultimately said nothing.

Hashirama turned his head to look at Mokushō, lowered his voice, and asked with genuine confusion, "You... Tsukumogami... are all like this? You... are you all so young?"

Mokushō stood to the side, his Red Eyes behind the fox mask scanning Tsukimiyo with some surprise.

But he quickly suppressed his surprise, crossed his arms, and said confidently, "Yes, we're forever young!"

"... Tobirama," Hashirama turned his head, "You give me a piece of your mind, I really can't find a suitable point to criticize."

Tobirama glanced at him expressionlessly. "Big Brother, what do you take me for?"

"To be the sarcastic commentator, of course," Hashirama said matter-of-factly.

"..."

Madara, unable to contain himself any longer, said, "Can't you guys be serious for once?"

His gaze fell on Tsukimiyo, his brows furrowed. "Who are you, and why are you with Izuna?"

Tsukimiyo paused in her clasping motion, seemingly wanting to speak, but then shrank back, intimidated by Madara's imposing presence.

The red light behind the mask flashed, and he took half a step closer to Mokushō.

Ban frowned.

Tsk, so timid?

Izuna stood to the side, tilting his head to examine the boy who looked very much like himself. After a while, he suddenly said, "Cute little boy, but the free black aura emanating from him doesn't look like a good person."

Tobirama turned to look at him. "Why did you add 'free' as an adjective?"

"Isn't this free?" Izuna pointed to the layer of black mist.

Tobirama was speechless. "Where did you get these crazy ideas from?"

Madara glanced at Izuna, then looked back at Tsukimiyo, his tone slightly softer than before, but still wary. "I'm asking you a question."

Tsukimiyo raised her head, her gaze from behind the mask sweeping across Madara's face before quickly shifting away.

"I... I am Tsukimiyo. I... I am Izuna's... brother."

The air was silent for two seconds.

"Ha?"