Chapter 3: Time to Eat…Sister~

!!!!!(Changed Hamatsuki to Keikain)!!!!!🙂🙂🙂🙂

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Ten minutes later, as Fukuki emerged from the bathroom with a towel draped around his neck, he turned his head to see a familiar scene at the dining table.

Kuroka, the cat-eared girl, was sitting there, the once-sealed briefcase wide open in front of her. She held the purple-black finger under the light, inspecting it curiously.

"Hey, hey, Fukuki, come look! Is this one of those onmyōji relics of yours?"

"...Let me see."

Despite his earlier warning, Fukuki had long accepted that no mere words could curb Kuroka's insatiable curiosity. He walked over and sat down beside her, unfazed by the sight.

However, instead of handing him the finger, Kuroka perched herself on his lap.

Through the thin fabric of her kimono, she could feel the warmth radiating from his body, the faint steam from his freshly showered skin mingling with the subtle scent of his soap.

Like a cat finding her favorite resting spot, she nestled comfortably against him, tilting her head to rest against his chest before finally extending the finger toward him.

"Here you go."

"Hmm..."

Taking the talisman-covered finger from her, Fukuki gave it a quick glance and immediately shook his head.

"It's not an onmyōji item. This is probably the work of a jujutsu sorcerer."

"Is there a difference? All these charms just look like doodles to me."

Kuroka motioned toward the densely packed talismans covering the finger.

"…Precisely because they're just doodles that it's from a jujutsu sorcerer," Fukuki replied matter-of-factly.

Fukuki lightly scraped the fingertip of the cursed object with his thumb, peeling back one end of the charm. With a single tug, he unwound the dense layers of charms wrapped around the blackened finger, revealing them to be a single, continuous strip—more accurately described as a "ribbon."

It looked like an old, duct-taped water pipe, tightly coiled from top to bottom.

Fukuki placed the finger back on the table and stretched the ribbon-like charm out fully, displaying it before Kuroka.

"See? Now you should be able to tell the difference."

"Honestly? I can't."

"How could you not...?" He sighed. "Look closely. Don't you notice how repetitive the text on this charm is? Compared to us Onmyōji, who write concise and functional incantations, these Jujutsu practitioners just scribble excessively long nonsense. It's all about efficiency and effect for us."

"Wow, Fukuki, you really seem to hold a grudge against Jujutsu practitioners," Kuroka teased, poking his cheek lightly with her finger and blowing playfully.

He shrugged nonchalantly. "It's not a grudge—just stating facts. Most Jujutsu practitioners today are regular folks who awakened their powers without any formal lineage or teachings. Sudden power can influence one's personality. Put bluntly, they're like nouveau riche. And since most grow without proper guidance, their techniques remain crude, unchanged from their initial awakening."

He continued, his voice tinged with disdain. "Even the so-called 'Big Three Jujutsu Clans' aren't much better."

"Take the Zen'in Clan, for instance. Their signature is the Ten Shadows Technique, which guarantees one's position as the clan head if they master it. But the current clan head doesn't even have the technique."

"Then there's the Gojo Clan. Their signature is the Limitless Cursed Technique, but it can only be used by someone with their unique Six Eyes trait. Sure, they produced a so-called 'strongest' practitioner thirty years ago who had both, but such cases only happen once every few centuries. Whether they survive until the next one is anyone's guess."

"Lastly, the Kamo Clan. Their trademark is the Blood Manipulation technique, which, while easy to learn, requires the user's own blood as a medium. So they're perpetually anemic, always fighting at the cost of their own health."

"Now, compare that to us, the Keikain family!" He suddenly straightened, his tone swelling with pride. Raising a fist with his thumb pointing to his chest, his enthusiasm was palpable.

"Our ancestral technique, Hagane-Breaking Army, is like a portable ancestral shrine! The more generations pass, the stronger the spirits we can summon! That's real lineage—not these so-called 'Big Three' relying on sporadic genetic quirks."

"Oh..."

After listening to his lengthy tirade, Kuroka suddenly posed a blunt question.

"So, can you actually use this Hagane-Breaking Army technique?"

Fukuki paused, his momentum faltering momentarily. Then, with a confident yet evasive nod, he answered, "Well... sort of. It's not that hard to learn. Even my little sister Yura, who's still in middle school, has mastered it."

"Is that so?"

If even his sister could use it, then surely Fukuki could as well... or so Kuroka reasoned.

Her gaze shifted back to the table and the unsealed blackened finger.

"So, what do we do with this now? The charm's already removed. If we just leave it here, won't something nasty pop out of it?"

"In theory, we could just rewrap it, but this charm looks like it's on its last legs. I'd better make a new one..."

Fukuki's fingertips glowed with a faint spiritual energy as he touched the briefcase the cursed object had come in.

Instantly, the spiritual energy transformed into intricate symbols, etching themselves onto the case's surface. The glowing runes moved as if alive, forming a complex sealing array across the entire case.

"There. Just toss it back in and close the lid."

"But seriously, what is this thing?"

He furrowed his brow, scrutinizing the finger again from different angles. After a moment, still stumped, he pulled out his phone and snapped a picture of it.

Curious, Kuroka leaned over to peek. "What forum are you posting that on?"

"A paranormal forum run by the Tokyo Jujutsu High. Most of the users are Jujutsu practitioners or supernatural enthusiasts. I've taken a few jobs from there before."

"Jobs?" Kuroka's ears perked up. "But didn't you just trash-talk Jujutsu practitioners, calling them nouveau riche and whatnot?"

"Work is work," Fukuki replied casually, typing up his post with swift precision.

The caption read:

"Guess what I reeled in during night fishing?"

Then, attaching the photo of the freshly snapped finger, he tapped "Post."

"...Is that all?"

Watching the "Post Successful: +3 Experience" notification pop up on the screen, the cat-eared girl tilted her head in unison.

At that moment, Fukuki turned off the phone screen, tucked away the severed finger, closed the box lid, and placed it aside. He freed up a hand to give the girl a light pat on the butt over her kimono.

"Of course. It's not like I need to stay up all night waiting for replies from strangers. Checking them in the morning is fine."

"Mm..."

Kuroka made a soft noise but didn't obediently get up as Fukuki had expected.

Instead, she turned nimbly in his lap by another 90 degrees, switching from leaning sideways to facing him directly. Wrapping her arms around his neck, her legs slipped deftly to his sides beneath the kimono. Moving closer, she murmured into his ear in a low, teasing voice:

"We've eaten, we've bathed... Isn't it time to eat... big sister?"