Chapter 22: Effort

Minamoto Kiyomoto nodded, “Although my heart is full of rejection right now, I believe that sooner or later, I will miss every day I was kicked by Miss Kamibayashi and talk to you with a smile about our first meeting.”

The two of them walked out of the campus side by side.

The spring scenery was romantic, with the faint fragrance of magnolia flowers floating in the air. It was almost May.

He wondered if Konohanasakuya-hime had reached Hokkaido.

Returning to Hakusan Shrine, Minamoto Kiyomoto continued to build his wooden house.

The floor and walls were already built. Today, he was working on the roof. To prevent condensation or leaks, a waterproof cloth had to be placed under the roof.

In addition, he had to install a skylight and leave a hole for the chimney of the wood-burning stove.

The wood-burning stove was not for heating, but for drying clothes, boiling water, and sometimes for grilling fish, sweet potatoes, and corn.

He wouldn’t use it often, but he still had to have one.

By the time all this was done, it was almost dark.

After cultivating for a while, he boiled water for a bath, changed into a clean and tidy set of clothes, and prepared to go to his part-time job at the cram school.

He had taken a leave of absence last week to go to Nagano Prefecture. After finishing this week, he planned to resign directly.

The hourly wage for being a lecturer at a cram school was good compared to other part-time jobs, but it couldn’t compare to participating in missions, or even going on a fake date with Itomi Sayaka, and it was also time-consuming.

With six hours a week, he could learn a large number of minor curses.

When passing by the station, Minamoto Kiyomoto saw the young woman who had been playing the cello and had eaten dinner with him last time.

The piece she was playing was the same as last time. The tone was soft and gentle, not the kind that would make people stop in their tracks, but if you sat down and listened carefully, it was very good.

Seeing Minamoto Kiyomoto, the young woman’s clear eyes, like those of a small deer, couldn’t help but take notice.

She had a deep impression of this man who was “working hard for a living together.”

Minamoto Kiyomoto listened for a while, put down 100 yen, and turned to go to the cram school.

“Minamoto-kun, are you really not going to consider it? We can raise the hourly wage,” the cram school director said, trying to persuade him to stay after class.

“I’m sorry, I really have something to do. It’s not a matter of the hourly wage. I took a leave of absence last week, and I might take a leave of absence next week. Even if I stay, it will only disrupt the teaching schedule.”

“Alright,” the director sighed, took out an envelope, and stuffed 30,000 yen into it.

“Director, that’s too much money,” Minamoto Kiyomoto said.

He had only come three times, so it should be 22,500 yen.

“Take it. Thanks to you, many female students have enrolled. They will be sad after you leave.”

“Thank you.”

Minamoto Kiyomoto took the envelope. Although it was thin, he was very happy in his heart.

For participating in the Konohanasakuya-hime battle, his reward was 500,000 yen, but for some reason, he didn’t have the feeling of “earning money through work.”

The 20,000-odd yen in his hand now was the reward he had truly earned through “work” in his life—the money he had received for helping out at his family’s inn when he was a child was considered pocket money.

There were many bad people in the world, but there were also many good people. The cram school director was one of them.

But whether they were good people or bad people, they all lived in a world full of disasters. In Tokyo alone, there were an average of two earthquakes a day.

Thinking about these messy things, Minamoto Kiyomoto walked with a light step, preparing to find a large hardware store and buy a wood-burning stove with the salary he had just received.

As he was walking, he saw a very eye-catching figure from behind—a person with a huge instrument case on their back and another instrument in their hand.

It was the young woman who had been busking at the station.

“You’ve worked hard,” Minamoto Kiyomoto walked up to her.

“Ah, hello!” the young woman was startled and subconsciously bowed to him.

“Going back so late?”

“Yes.”

“Every day?”

“I didn’t have a shift at the convenience store today, so I played for a little longer.”

“Played?” Minamoto Kiyomoto was taken aback for a moment.

“S-sorry, it should be considered busking.”

“No, no, no!” Minamoto Kiyomoto smiled. “Even if you’re poor—this word doesn’t mean I’m looking down on you, I’m also very poor.”

The young woman smiled softly and weakly.

Her small face was delicate, and her skin looked very white even in the night. Her whole person had a sense of fragility, making one want to hold her in their arms and care for her.

“Even if you’re poor, you must have a dream,” Minamoto Kiyomoto said. “When a person has a dream, they won’t be looked down upon.”

“A dream?”

“Yes.”

The two of them walked through the brightly lit and prosperous night scene of Tokyo.

“For example, a person is very poor, but he has a dream of becoming a rich person and is constantly working hard. Then no matter how poor he is, people will not dare to look down on him to his face, because he has a dream.”

“Is having a dream that important?” the young woman seemed to be asking herself, and also asking Minamoto Kiyomoto.

“It’s not that having a dream is amazing. Others don’t dare to simply look down on him to his face because they are worried that one day he will suddenly achieve his dream and become a rich person.”

“…Can I also not be looked down upon?”

Minamoto Kiyomoto looked at her with incomprehension, “You’re pretty and you can play the violin. Even if you don’t have money, no one should look down on you.”

“Isn’t it said that many people determine a person’s value based on whether they have money or not?” the young woman’s voice was soft and gentle.

“Don’t say it, there really are. I met one today, and she’s a woman, her family owns a hospital.”

“At that time… it must have been very hard.”

“You have to live, there’s no choice,” Minamoto Kiyomoto said, seeing the other person’s fragile body carrying two instrument cases, he subconsciously reached out to help carry one.

Who knew that the young woman immediately hugged the instrument tightly, as if Minamoto Kiyomoto were about to molest her, and struck a defensive posture.

“This… I… I’m sorry!” the young woman realized and immediately bowed to apologize.

“No, no, I’m the one who should be sorry,” waving his hand, Minamoto Kiyomoto pointed at the instrument case and joked, “Is there money in there?”

“Yes.”

“Please don’t call the police. I apologize to you. I absolutely have no intention of robbing you!”

Seeing Minamoto Kiyomoto’s “I swear” look, the young woman couldn’t help but laugh, and her posture of hugging the instrument case relaxed.

“I have to continue working hard for a living. Goodbye,” finding a hardware store in his peripheral vision, Minamoto Kiyomoto said.

The young woman’s soft lips parted, and finally, she said, “Good luck.”

Minamoto Kiyomoto remembered that the last time they parted, they had also said “good luck” to each other.

“Good luck,” he replied with a smile.

This would probably be the last time the two of them would meet. Every night from now on, he would be cultivating hard.

Parting with the cello girl, he walked into the hardware store. A wood-burning stove would cost about 30,000 yen.

Minamoto Kiyomoto changed his mind. He pretended to be looking, but actually studied the structure, then bought some iron sheets and went back to the shrine to build one himself.

On the day he was hired by Itomi Sayaka, Minamoto Kiyomoto moved into the mountain cabin he had built himself.

The cabin was exquisitely designed by him. It could be called a villa, but the interior equipment was a bit simple.

When his cultivation ended, he opened his eyes and saw the still-burning wood-burning stove. The birch walls were dyed red by the firelight.

Outside, it became even darker, as if something were peeping in.

Taking advantage of this atmosphere, Minamoto Kiyomoto began to let his imagination run wild:
A landslide was happening on the mountaintop; the cabin was in a giant mouth; a ghost was lying on the skylight above, peeping at him.

He imagined the most terrifying things he could.

Closing his eyes, he used these negative emotions to temper his mind, as he usually did.

The next day, Sunday, he got up in the morning and started planting vegetables.

Some were grown from seeds;

He took soil, mixed it with fertilizer, lime, etc., and then put the soil into cheap, thin flower pots.

He sprinkled a few seeds in each flower pot, including tomatoes, cucumbers, small pumpkins, radishes, etc.

When the seeds sprouted and grew a little stronger, he would choose the well-developed ones and transplant them to the vegetable garden.

Some seeds were buried directly in the soil;

Carrots, potatoes, etc., one seed was placed every centimeter. After the seedlings grew, the poorly developed ones were pulled out.

There were also seedlings he bought.

Edamame, broccoli, lettuce, green peppers, eggplants, etc., these seedlings were planted directly in the vegetable garden.

He planted seasonings such as ginger and green onions in the corners.

In the deep mountains and old forests, there were wild boars, monkeys, and foxes. Minamoto Kiyomoto also inserted bamboo poles at equal intervals around the vegetable garden to form a fence.

Looking at the rows of tender shoots, a sense of satisfaction welled up in his heart.

Minamoto Kiyomoto suddenly thought that vegetables and trees absorbing nutrients from the soil was the same as humans absorbing the breath of the gods.
And the lucky clover he used to prevent soil erosion when building the house.

The leaves of the lucky clover could prevent rainwater from directly pouring onto the ground; the grip of the roots could make the soil firm.

Not only building houses and planting vegetables, but in this world, no matter what, one had to rely on the power of nature, such as sunlight, wind, water, plants, and microorganisms.

And these energies circulated with each other, either by being eaten, used, or in other ways.

What about curses?

Of course, they used the breath of the gods, but could they also use the visible power of nature?
Besides cultivation, could heaven and man as one be used for this?

Today was a sunny day, so the Eight Divine Thunders were not possible. He found a stream, plunged into it, and stayed there all day, cultivating the water curse.

On Monday, after the morning classes ended, just as Minamoto Kiyomoto was about to go to Sanshiro Pond, a female classmate grabbed his wrist.

“Hey, what’s wrong with you lately?” Inaba asked.

“What’s wrong with what?” Minamoto Kiyomoto asked back in confusion.

“You don’t come out to play on weekends, and you don’t eat with us,” Asana said. “Someone said they saw you often with Kamibayashi Miko and another girl.”

“Yes.”

“How did you guys meet?” Inaba asked curiously.

“How did we meet… that day on the European-style corridor of the Faculty of Letters, Kamibayashi Miko said, ‘If there were no weapons, the world would be at peace.’ Himemiya Izayoi, that’s the other girl, said, ‘Animals have no weapons, but they fight every day.’ I was passing by and heard it, and I thought it was interesting, so I interjected, ‘If everyone listens to me, then there will be peace’.”

“What?” the two girls were confused.

“To put it simply, we were discussing how to bring peace to the world,” Minamoto Kiyomoto said.

“…Do you want to go get your brain waves checked? We’ll go with you.”

“No, thank you.”

The three of them gathered by Sanshiro Pond.

The sun was just right, and the shade of the trees was cast on Kamibayashi Miko’s white shirt. The interplay of light and shadow was like a scene from a movie.

“You’re as dazzling as ever today,” Minamoto Kiyomoto said to Kamibayashi Miko.

“Thank you,” Kamibayashi Miko nodded.

“Izayoi is also very beautiful,” Minamoto Kiyomoto looked at the other miko.

“What did you do yesterday?” Himemiya Izayoi asked directly.

“Reflected, cultivated, in order to be above ten thousand people, in order to become a king,” Minamoto Kiyomoto had learned his lesson.

Himemiya Izayoi snorted, her pink lips pouting aggrievedly, “You didn’t even think of me.”

“…”

“If you want to flirt, please find another time,” Kamibayashi Miko reminded the two of them.

“Where was I flirting?” Minamoto Kiyomoto said. “If I were to flirt, it would be with you, Miss Kamibayashi.”

“Hmm?” Himemiya Izayoi looked at Minamoto Kiyomoto.

“I like Miss Kamibayashi. I even confessed to her yesterday.”

“What did you say?” Himemiya Izayoi moved closer. “Why would Kiyomoto say such a lie? Kiyomoto would never do such a thing. Kiyomoto would never be willing to make Izayoi sad. Kiyomoto would never fall in love with someone else. But… if Kiyomoto really did it, even if Kiyomoto really did it, I would still forgive you. Because I like you the most, Kiyomoto.”

“…I’m starting to be afraid of you.”

“Then you still dare to like her?” Himemiya Izayoi, who didn’t believe in the world just now, looked at Minamoto Kiyomoto with cold eyes.

“My feelings for her are the same as your feelings for me.”

“So it’s a fake love. That’s good,” Himemiya Izayoi patted her chest.

Minamoto Kiyomoto’s gaze was glued to her heaving chest, and for a moment, he forgot to retort.

“Haha!” Himemiya Izayoi pulled Kamibayashi Miko. “Did you see that? His perverted look just now! Hahaha!”

Kamibayashi Miko looked at Minamoto Kiyomoto with a half-smile, watching how he would argue.

“Ahem,” Minamoto Kiyomoto cleared his throat, not intending to argue at all. “Lady Miko, I had a question during my cultivation yesterday.”

“He’s changing the subject, he’s changing the subject!” Himemiya Izayoi shook Kamibayashi Miko’s arm, her full breasts bouncing again.

Minamoto Kiyomoto looked up at the green chinquapin tree above and said as if reminiscing:
“Yesterday, I was working on my vegetable garden and had a thought: everything in this world relies on the power of nature, such as sunlight, wind, water, plants, and microorganisms. So when we cast curses, can we also do the same?”

Kamibayashi Miko was very attentive to Minamoto Kiyomoto’s cultivation. After listening, she said thoughtfully:
“Among the Eight Divine Thunders, it is said that when ‘Black Thunder’ is cast, the sky immediately darkens, whether it is day or night. At this time, if other thunder methods are cast, one can control the endless lightning in the clouds, as if a person were using the power of heaven and earth. Unfortunately, there is no mental cultivation method or incantation for ‘Black Thunder,’ otherwise we could try to deduce it.”

As she was speaking, Minamoto Kiyomoto couldn’t help but glance at Himemiya Izayoi’s chest.

Himemiya Izayoi showed a charming smile, her amorous eyes giving him a glance, her lips parting slightly, and she mouthed silently:
“Useless.”

“Find a rainy day and try to get into the clouds?” Minamoto Kiyomoto suggested.

The days passed like this, going to school, cultivating, and discussing cultivation insights.

Minamoto Kiyomoto’s divine power improved by leaps and bounds, and his curses became more and more proficient. If he encountered a thirty-meter giant cherry blossom bear again, he would definitely not shout “Miss Kamibayashi” again.

On Thursday, just as he was about to run out of money, Itomi Sayaka sent a message, asking to meet tomorrow afternoon.

The next day, Friday, Minamoto Kiyomoto rushed to the same French home-style restaurant as last time.

“Go to Chiba with me,” Itomi Sayaka said directly.

“Chiba?”

“Yes, there’s a family gathering today. They insist on me bringing you back to see them.”

Itomi Sayaka held a cigarette between her thumb and middle finger, tapped the ash with her index finger.

She took a puff and continued:
“They’re worried that I’m only interested in you because of your looks, so they want to see for themselves what kind of person you are. You’d better act outstanding for me.”

“Chiba,” Minamoto Kiyomoto took out his phone.

“Do you have something to do?” Itomi Sayaka’s delicate eyebrows furrowed slightly.

“It takes forty minutes to drive on the highway, and we also have to eat. The round trip will take three hours.”

“You’re not scared, are you?” Itomi Sayaka said with a slightly praising smile. “Not bad, you have self-awareness.”

“No,” Minamoto Kiyomoto put down his phone. “I mean, you have to pay more.”

Itomi Sayaka stared at him for three seconds, then extinguished the cigarette she had only taken three puffs of, and shook her head with a helpless smile.

The Van Cleef & Arpels long necklace on her neck swayed slightly on her snow-white collarbones.

“One million yen,” she crossed her long legs. “If you can satisfy my parents, it’s yours; if not, you can resign yourself.”

“I told you,” Minamoto Kiyomoto leaned back, also crossing his legs, not giving off a superior feeling, but a calm and elegant one, “for every 100 yen you pay, I guarantee I’ll solve 100 yen worth of your troubles.”

Itomi Sayaka smiled, a little helpless, like an adult with a child.

“And one more thing,” she warned, “when you see my sister, don’t get any ideas.”

“You don’t have to doubt my professional ethics. Besides, a high school student is too old for me.”

“…I hope so. Let’s go,” 26-year-old Itomi Sayaka picked up the Hermes tote bag she had just bought.

On the way to the parking lot.

“Can you drive?”

“I can, but…”

“100,000 yen. I don’t want to hear ‘but’.”

“I’ll drive.”

“Remember your cleverness now, and that one million yen.”

“One million one hundred thousand yen.”

Itomi Sayaka stopped, turned her head to size up Minamoto Kiyomoto for a while, nodded, and said:
“…Yes, one million one hundred thousand yen.”

(End of Chapter)