"Kenjaku-"
Kashimo's voice suddenly rose a pitch. His blue eyes went wide, and even the purple markings at his temples twitched.
"Where the hell did you put my stuff?!"
Kashimo was pissed, and the consequences would be serious.
Every Cursed Tool he'd painstakingly collected back then had been a masterpiece, something he'd personally chosen and used. Before becoming a Cursed Object, he'd told Kenjaku over and over to keep them safe for him. And what happened? Four hundred years later, he opened his eyes, and his stuff was gone?
"Don't get mad!" Kenjaku hurriedly waved his hands, tapping his index fingers together even faster, like a guilty little housewife caught red-handed. "The Ruyi Staff is in Jujutsu High's Forbidden Vault. It's still there, still there!"
He hastily added this, hoping the good news would calm Kashimo down.
Kashimo's expression softened a little. He raised an eyebrow, waiting for the next item.
"As for the Thunder Ring..."
Kenjaku's voice suddenly dropped, as if someone had grabbed him by the throat. His gaze started drifting toward the ground again, and his toe unconsciously traced circles in the dirt. Guilt was written all over his face.
Kashimo raised his eyebrow again, even higher this time.
"My husband has it..."
Kenjaku's voice was barely louder than a mosquito's buzz. After speaking, he darted a glance at Kashimo, then quickly looked away again.
Kashimo froze.
He stood rooted to the spot, his expression shifting from anger to confusion, from confusion to disbelief, before finally settling into a peculiarly blank stare. He opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again. He repeated this several times without managing a single word.
Okay.
Bro.
Real nice.
When he'd given Kenjaku the Thunder Ring, it had essentially been for self-defense. After all, the guy might have lived a long time, but his ability in a head-on fight was nothing special.
For ten years, Kashimo had continuously poured massive amounts of electrical charge into that Thunder Ring so Kenjaku could escape if he faced danger.
And what happened? His self-defense gear ended up with his husband? A token of love, huh?
The corner of Kashimo's mouth twitched. He took a deep breath, then another, before slowly raising a hand to cover his face.
"You fucking..."
His voice seeped through his fingers, muffled.
"Uh-"
Kashimo opened his mouth. His mind churned for ages, but he still couldn't find anything appropriate to say. He raised a hand and pointed at Kenjaku, lowered it, raised it again, then finally let it drop.
"I honestly don't know what to say to you."
He rubbed his temples, feeling them throb. Four hundred years ago, he'd been the strongest in Jujutsu Society. Four hundred years later, the first thing he discovered upon opening his eyes was that his buddy had screwed him over. It felt like entrusting a lifetime's worth of possessions to a friend, only to come back and find his stuff gone, his friend married off, and his belongings included in the dowry.
He was already dizzy with anger.
"I'll come by your place in a few days and take it back."
With that, Kashimo pushed off the ground and vanished like a phantom. The night breeze swept up a few fallen leaves, sending them swirling where he'd disappeared.
Kenjaku let out a long breath, his shoulders relaxing. He raised a hand to wipe the nonexistent cold sweat from his temple, thinking he'd finally managed to bluff his way through that ordeal-
"Oh, right."
Kashimo's voice suddenly sounded behind him again.
Kenjaku went rigid and turned around mechanically, his guilty expression giving way to a sense of impending doom. At some point, Kashimo had doubled back. He stood three paces away, scratching the back of his head with one hand, his face showing a rare hint of... embarrassment.
"What is it?" Kenjaku eyed him warily, his voice full of suspicion.
Kashimo scratched his head again and looked away. His lips moved as if he were working up an enormous amount of courage. After several seconds of silence, he finally spoke, his voice less than half as loud as before.
"So, uh... got any money?"
Everything suddenly went quiet.
The wind in the mountain woods stopped, the thunder in the clouds fell silent, and even the distant insects had the good sense to shut up. The whole world seemed frozen in that moment, leaving only Kenjaku's face visibly darkening.
"Kashimo!"
Kenjaku's voice shot up eight octaves. As he frowned, the thin line of stitches twisted into a vicious arc. He thrust a finger straight at Kashimo's face, its tip trembling slightly.
"You spent my money four hundred years ago! And you're still spending my money four hundred years later?!"
His voice echoed through the open mountain woods, shaking leaves loose from the treetops.
"You fucking freeloader-!!"
The furious shout made Kashimo retreat half a step. The corner of his mouth twitched. He wanted to argue, but felt there really wasn't much he could say in his defense. He opened his mouth, then finally just muttered under his breath.
"...It's not like I have a bank card."
At that moment, Kenjaku's blood pressure shot through the roof.
P.S. The Hidden Inventory Arc will have a bit more slice-of-life content, but it should be pretty fun. I'm still thinking about whether to include a female lead.