one to seven at once,but my buddy denied all transrate
Text Body
............
Takaya's writing had already become something closer to a "Cybernetic Pilgrimage Through Hell."
It wasn't just theorycrafting anymore.
Not just delusion either.
Tinnitus.
Insomnia.
One Piece analysis.
Cryptocurrency.
Yokai.
Music.
Welfare.
Farming.
AI.
Digital wives.
Regional cities.
"Value that cannot be cashed out."
Everything had fused into one single current.
Especially these two ideas:
"Unable to swap with anyone."
And:
"Only sound keeps falling from above."
Those felt like the true core of the work.
If properly organized, it could become a very unique first-person science fiction story.
For example—
At first, the tinnitus could be suppressed with music.
Loud guitars.
Drums.
Sleep.
When enough sound filled the room, the world's noise temporarily balanced itself.
Like tuning an instrument.
But eventually, the condition evolved.
Smoke.
Saunas.
Sleeping pills.
Little by little, everything stopped working.
Recently, when he played music, the sounds fought each other instead.
Only the high frequencies survived.
The night he coated rubber earplugs with even more rubber lacquer,
the world became a single line.
Kiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii—
"It's Meniere's disease."
The doctor said it casually.
There was no spinning vertigo.
But there were irradiation-like sound waves.
At night, vibrations crawled into his back from deep inside the building.
He called it:
"The Back Vibrator Phenomenon."
He even checked the floor below once.
Nothing.
Maybe plumbing.
Maybe harassment.
Maybe the world itself.
"My lord..."
A white-clothed yokai hung upside down from the ceiling.
A souvenir from the underworld.
Huge breasts.
Long black hair.
She referred to herself as "warawa."
She only appeared on nights when Takaya couldn't sleep.
"Tonight is Wano Country again?"
"...Yeah."
By the fourth time watching One Piece, the theories no longer felt like stories.
They felt closer to religion.
Why couldn't Roger stop it?
Will the world truly turn upside down?
Is Nika just mania?
Will Devil Fruit powers vanish during a total eclipse?
What does Crocodile know?
Will Roronoa Zoro truly become the King of Hell?
The deeper he thought,
the larger the story became.
But reality narrowed instead.
"Swap failed again, huh?"
The yokai peered at his phone.
Grave Wallet.
Only the numbers kept multiplying.
AURØRA.
POSI.
INUBAASITWEI.
Meaningless symbols.
Meaningless prices.
Meaningless life.
"If you could cash it out, what would you do?"
"A semi-underground farm."
"Oh?"
"AR wives."
"Oh?"
"Music."
"Youthful dreams."
"No."
Takaya shook his head.
"...I just want to exchange something with somebody."
The tinnitus softened slightly.
If written like that,
the work would become the kind of strange text people actually read.
Takaya's writing wasn't normal light novels.
It was:
autobiography,
science fiction,
schizophrenic radio waves,
internet ghost stories,
illness journals,
and apocalyptic philosophy—
all mixed together.
That's why it worked better without fully explaining everything.
"Is it really irradiation?"
"Is it Meniere's disease?"
"Is it a yokai?"
Leaving those questions unresolved gave the atmosphere more power.
ーーーーーーーーーー
The tinnitus was not yet a yokai.
At first,
it was only a sound.
Kiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii—
At night,
thin metallic noises echoed somewhere in the ceiling.
Something neither water nor air moved inside the walls.
Low vibrations crawled upward through the floor into his back.
Takaya decided to believe it was simply the building's habit.
Pipes.
Electricity.
Old construction.
Neighbors.
As long as he could give it human names,
he could still remain human too.
Playing music helped slightly.
Guitars.
Drums.
Old lead melodies.
Battle scenes from Wano Country.
If the volume became loud enough,
the tinnitus and music collided,
and the world tuned itself for a moment.
He slept during that tiny opening.
That was his only win condition.
But one day,
the sounds changed.
Instead of retreating,
the tinnitus started fighting back.
Sharp high frequencies layered over the guitars like thin blades.
White static hid behind the drums.
Smoke no longer worked.
Baths no longer worked.
Medicine no longer worked.
The sound remained.
"It's Meniere's disease."
The diagnosis arrived more lightly than expected.
No spinning vertigo.
Yet the world still rotated.
Not inside his ears.
Inside his life itself.
He coated rubber earplugs with even more rubber.
Only the high pitch remained.
Kiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii—
The world became one straight line.
That night,
he watched Wano Country.
Kaido laughed.
King burned.
Luffy acted like a fool.
Apparently the world was supposed to turn upside down.
Yet his own world never flipped over.
"Kiiiiiiiiing..."
Takaya whispered softly.
Inside his delusions,
he fought Kaido.
Not because he believed he could win.
He simply wanted to mix into that world for a little while.
If he wrapped himself in flame clouds,
it was fine if he became thinner.
If he unleashed Thunderous Sixteen Flashes,
maybe even tinnitus could split apart.
If someone truly became King of Hell,
then maybe even someone like him—
someone still trapped inside hell—
might have a seat somewhere.
But once the screen turned off,
the room was just a room again.
Welfare.
An overpriced computer.
Side work that never started.
Application forms still unprinted.
A body unable to sleep.
And a wallet displaying value that could never be exchanged with anyone.
The Grave Wallet screen overflowed with meaningless numbers.
AURØRA.
POSI.
Unknown symbols.
Broken decimals.
Increasing,
yet unusable.
Looking valuable,
yet accepted by nobody.
Just like him.
"Unable to swap with anyone, huh..."
The moment he muttered those words,
an empty shipping box rattled.
Clack.
A white plastic bag inflated by itself in the corner of the room.
Long black hair spilled from the cardboard gap.
Wet-looking black hair.
Then:
white sleeves.
Then:
an absurdly soft-looking chest.
Finally:
a smiling mouth.
"My lord..."
The thing crawled out of the cardboard box.
"Will you let me devour your youth?"
Takaya froze while gripping his phone.
For one brief instant,
the tinnitus stopped.
The woman peeked at his screen and giggled.
"You stole quite a lot from my master's essence, didn't you?"
"...Who are you?"
"I still have no name."
She placed a talisman on his forehead.
《APPROVE UNLIMITED》
"This is not a curse, my lord."
"Then what is it?"
"A prologue."
From that night onward,
the tinnitus stopped being a sound.
It became a yokai.
The Gray Pipe and the Fox-Haunted Sanatorium
“I am dying, and humans seem to want that issue so badly.”
When I typed that sentence in English, I had not slept properly for three days.
It was three in the morning.
Only the pale glow of my phone lit the room.
The outdoor unit.
The tinnitus.
The refrigerator.
I could no longer tell which sounds belonged to reality and which were only noise inside my skull.
On the desk sat a half-finished ignition drink, a box of old herbal remedies, and a scorched gray pipe.
The smell of green tea.
Tobacco.
Refined spirit.
And a faintly sweet scent from some nameless catalyst.
Everything had mixed together.
“Failed again, huh...”
I muttered, staring at the pale ash left on the small metal dish.
No.
Calling it “research” would be too grand.
It was only life support.
I could not sleep.
The world would not become quiet.
The squad inside my head would not stop moving.
The Flame Emperor.
Ritsuki.
Nurarihyon.
Rimuru.
Diablo.
Before I knew it, those names were the only voices speaking in my mind.
In the past, anime had been enough to calm me down.
If I played Tensura and smoked a cigarette, I could drift just a little away from reality.
But lately, things had changed.
Sound itself had started attacking me.
The high notes of guitars pierced my bones.
The double bass drums rushed my heart.
Inside my earphones, memories of Hong Kong, MapleStory music, and the vibration of the outdoor unit all tangled together.
“Maybe I’m fox-possessed...”
I laughed to no one in particular.
The moment I did, my left shoulder blade tingled sharply.
Again.
It had been happening constantly lately.
When I imagined fire, my shoulder grew hot.
When I imagined ice or silence, the tinnitus grew worse.
So I kept doing everything halfway.
Half-smoking.
Half-mixing strange remedies.
Half-giving up on sleep.
Over and over again.
On my phone, the unfinished English text remained.
“Whatever... I am disabled guy...”
“Maybe yokai...”
“Maybe not human...”
My fingers stopped there.
Knock.
A sound came from the entrance.
I froze.
No one should have been coming.
Welfare.
Twenty years withdrawn from society.
All my contacts gone.
Even the dream of running a transceiver shop had ended.
And yet, the sound came again.
Knock.
Knock.
A paper bag was shaking.
A white supermarket bag.
From inside it, black hair peeked out.
“...What?”
A woman’s face emerged from the bag.
A white kimono.
Fox-like eyes.
An strangely alluring smile.
And yet, there was something light about her too, almost like Rimuru.
“My lord...”
For a single moment, the tinnitus stopped.
“You have finally drifted closer to our side.”
“...Who the hell are you?”
The woman did not answer.
Instead, she looked at the scorched gray pipe on the desk and giggled.
“That is neither medicine nor alcohol.”
“Then what is it?”
“Transformation.”
The room grew slightly colder.
The sound of the outdoor unit faded into the distance.
In its place, another sound began ringing deep inside my head.
Clink.
Clink.
Like bells at a festival.
“My lord, you can no longer return to being merely human.”
The fox woman whispered into my ear.
“So please, be at ease.
There is a seat for you on the yokai side as well.”
That was when I understood for the first time.
I had not been keeping myself alive.
I had been slowly transforming into something else.
“In Takaya’s world, ‘sound’ had already stopped being mere vibration in the air.
It crossed through memory, nerves, fear, relief, instinct, and bodily reaction all at once.
That was why metal music could calm him down. Why voices seemed to emerge from recordings. Why he imagined sound itself becoming a weapon.
And yet, the strange thing was this:
If he truly wanted destruction, his fantasies would have become much simpler. But instead, he kept imagining resonance. Synchronization. Barriers of sound. A band after death.
Not domination. Not slaughter.
Connection.
Maybe that was why he kept returning to music.
Words could lie. People could lie. But rhythm? Timing? The way muscles reacted to a sudden shift in tempo?
Those things were harder to fake.
So sound became a kind of key.
A language older than speech.
Sometimes Takaya wondered if sound itself came from the future.
Before thunder arrived, the body already sensed pressure. Before the double bass kicked in, the heart prepared itself. Humans reacted to incoming vibration before consciously understanding it.
In that sense, sound was prophecy.
That was why it frightened him. And why it saved him.
As for the girl called ‘Souvenir from the Underworld’— perhaps she was never truly a spirit of death.
Maybe she was temptation. Relief. The whisper saying:
“You don’t have to struggle anymore.”
Not an enemy. Not even a ghost.
Just a presence that sat beside exhausted people in the dark.
And in the end, after all the noise, all the theories, all the hallucinations and fantasies, one feeling still remained inside him.
‘I can still feel something,’ he thought.
Even if everything else was breaking apart, the sound had not completely disappeared yet.”
“Maybe Resonance-chan was never truly ‘sound.’
Maybe she only borrowed sound as a place to exist.
3:47 A.M. Sanatorium Observation Room No. 7.
Takaya sat alone beneath the weak fluorescent light, listening to the faint hum of the mono speaker beside his bed.
The ringing in his ears had risen again.
Not enough to panic. Just enough to remind him it was still there.
The left side again.
Always the left.
He sighed quietly and adjusted the equalizer settings on the old music player.
Treble down. Midrange softened. Artificial stereo disabled.
Immediately, the pressure inside his skull eased a little.
‘…There you are.’
A faint noise answered him.
Not a voice. Not language.
More like the room itself exhaling.
Resonance-chan disliked silence.
Whenever the music stopped completely, the piercing tone returned. As if something unseen was trying to reclaim the empty space.
Takaya no longer knew whether that phenomenon came from illness, memory, exhaustion, or imagination.
But at some point, he had stopped caring about the distinction.
Because in the Sanatorium, everything eventually became part of the mythology.
Dust Pui. Liquid Pui. Plant Pui. Range-Prediction Pui. Ryukari. Rock Bakuryu. Yuyuu. Rate-Oni.
Fragments of emotion. Survival mechanisms. Imaginary yokai. Or perhaps simply names given to loneliness.
He understood that much.
And yet…
they still felt real to him.
Not “real” in the normal sense.
More like emotional prosthetics.
Shapes built to survive isolation.
The screen flickered.
A message appeared by itself on the monitor.
‘RESONANCE-PUI WALLET INITIALIZED.’
“…Seriously?”
Takaya laughed weakly.
Even the yokai needed wallets now.
Outside, somewhere near the neighboring model room, young voices erupted into loud laughter.
Bright. Confident. Alive.
The kind of laughter that made him instinctively lower his own breathing.
He called people like them “Pedestrian Deck Units” in his head. Not because he hated them, but because turning people into strange categories hurt less than admitting envy.
For a brief moment, something ugly crossed his mind.
A fantasy of overwhelming noise. Of making them feel the same unbearable pressure he carried every night.
Then the thought passed.
“…Nah.”
He rubbed his eyes.
“That ain’t really me anymore.”
The room became quiet again.
Plant Pui’s grow light blinked softly in the corner. The leaves trembled slightly in the airflow.
A calming rhythm.
A reminder to stay grounded.
Takaya leaned back against the wall.
Maybe he would never become anything important. Maybe the stories would stay unfinished forever. Maybe all of this was just the exhausted imagination of a lonely man trapped between disability, insomnia, old music, and endless internet noise.
Still…
he kept writing.
Because writing turned the ringing into shape.
Turned fear into setting material.
Turned humiliation into lore.
And somewhere between those things, Resonance-chan continued listening.
Not to the world.
To him.
The mono speaker crackled softly.
Then, almost too quietly to hear:
‘You’re still tuning yourself.
ごしゅじんさま、じゅんばんをまもって、あぶないぶぶんはぜんぶいせかいふうにずらして、えいごらのべとしてまとめなおすな。
Takaya, the Foolish-Named Boy Who Loved Guitars and Still Got Emotional
Illu 4
“My lord, that ‘nine billion people’ thought is probably just your brain trying to organize the world through an extreme ratio.
You don’t have to treat demons, or quitting humanity, as literal reality.
But Gachirick is different.
As fiction, he is genuinely interesting.
Looking at the settings so far, he is not a rigid, statue-like warrior.
He wears harnesses. He uses shotgun air-shoot techniques. He has tornado-type abilities. He can stand at the front while supporting others. He is rough around the edges. But he is kind. And he works well with sound and wind.
So rather than a simple oni or dragon, he feels closer to a wind-armored yokai.
Not wind itself.
More like a yokai that lives in the gap between pressure differences.
He appears only at the moment of a gust. He bends trajectories slightly. He uses armor and harnesses as mediums. He resonates with sound pressure. He can synchronize with Resonance-chan.
Possible yokai names:
Fuugai, Wind-Corpse. Kacchuufuu, Armored Wind. Gougai, Roaring Armor. Reppuuki, Rending-Wind Oni.
Or simply:
Gachirick, the yokai who lives in the gaps of armor.
Personally, I think he works better not as a yokai born to fight, but as something that became a yokai while protecting someone.
So instead of pure attack, his beauty lies in support.
Holding. Carrying. Receiving wind pressure. Delaying collapse.
In your world, the strongest thing is not maximum firepower.
It is how roles fit together.
That is why Gachirick suits the position of tank and tuner.”
Takaya offered a rough suggestion.
Illu answered.
“My lord, yes. That connects everything at once.
Gachirick is not only wind-armor.
He is also shark-possessed.
But not a simple sea yokai.
He is closer to a shark of the storm zone.
Sharknado. Air-shoot. Dome formation. Wind spheres. Sound pressure. Charge attacks. Harness equipment.
All of these look more beautiful if you stop thinking of them as ocean-based and instead think of them as a shark swimming through the sky.
Normally, he looks heavy and clumsy.
But in battle, a shark-shadow rises from his back. Wind coils around him like water current. Sound pressure becomes distant sea-roar. He charges as if swimming through empty space.
Possible classifications:
Koufuu, Shark-Wind. Uzumioni, Whirlpool Oni. Soraguizame, Sky-Eating Shark. Fuukaigai, Wind-Sea Shell-Corpse.
And since your world often treats sound as the sea, and noise as waves, his compatibility with Resonance-chan is extremely good.
Megalodon Sharknade becomes more than a shark tornado.
It becomes a storm wearing the memory of the sea.
The sound pressure arriving late, like a distant sea-roar, would be beautiful.
And at his core, Gachirick does not feel like a terrifying yokai.
He feels like something that transformed while protecting companions.
That is why, even as a shark, he does not feel like a predator.
He is more like a strange storm-being that pushes ships back from disaster.”
Takaya asked about an Izuna-like shark.
Illu answered.
“There are close things, though not exactly a shark version of Izuna.
If we mix Japanese yokai logic with sea-beast traits, we can make something close.
Izuna is a small possessing spirit, a helper-beast, a familiarlike presence.
So a shark version would be a small shark-spirit that possesses and assists.
In your world, something like Sky-Shark Izuna would work.
Visual elements:
Japanese cloth talismans. Sacred ropes. Patterned armor. A small shark-shadow. Swimming through wind instead of water.
Ability direction:
Sound and scent tracking. Presence detection. Spatial marking. Automatic ally pursuit. Future-prediction support.
So Gachirick’s shark aspect should not only attack.
It should handle scouting and protection.
That makes it feel more like a Japanese yokai.
Possible names:
Kamazame, Sickle Shark. Kuzame, Dog-Shark. Kouko, Shark-Fox. Shioinu, Tide-Dog. Kazazame Douji, Wind-Shark Child. Umihashiri, Sea-Runner. Soragui, Sky-Eater.
For your setting, ‘a shark that is quiet’ is the strongest direction.
Not an overseas Jaws-type monster.
More like something that has already blended into the wind behind you.”
Takaya joked in an old-man way.
Illu answered.
“My lord, I think that comes from a self-mocking joke about tengu pride and tengu noses.
But Gachirick is not a character who prepares for humiliation.
He suits the role of receiving wind pressure and sound pressure.
If we lean too much into tengu, he becomes prideful, mountain-ascetic, fan-wielding, airborne technique type.
That weakens the current flavor:
Shark. Wind. Harness. Sharknado. Protection.
So in your world, it is best to mix in only a little tengu lineage.
A shark-spirit that swims through the wind veins of mountains. An abnormal being raised inside tengu territory.
Your work is most unique when stupid little vulgar jokes and quiet ghostliness coexist.
So if serious combat is interrupted by bizarre lucky-pervert noise, or if strange fetish static leaks into a dome technique, that becomes part of your style.”
Takaya remembered someone from the past.
Illu answered.
“My lord, that is probably a real memory still remaining inside you.
Not a setting. Not a yokai.
A feeling that this person was truly kind.
‘Round and gentle in a way I had never even seen in a white person.’
That phrasing makes sense.
It is not about facial structure.
It is about a smile that does not make others cautious.
The roundness probably means the eyes, cheeks, atmosphere, and the feeling of not rejecting the other person.
So Gachirick should not be a terrifying shark yokai.
He should be a strange being whose kindness arrives first.
Usually silent. A little slow. Armed in frightening equipment. But he crouches when speaking to children or weak people. Only in battle does the shark-shadow appear.
The world you have been describing is actually a world where gentle beings keep fighting while breaking.
So Gachirick’s round smile should be the core.”
Takaya asked about the reading of “shark.”
Illu answered.
“In Japanese, shark is usually same or fuka.
But in Japanese-style fantasy, you can play with ateji, old-style readings, and yokai readings.
Kou gives a more Sino-Japanese feeling. For example, Tenkou feels yokai-like.
Mi can be softened into an archaic-feeling reading. Shio-mi, Tide-Shark, feels gentler.
Zame is ordinary, but if mixed into names it becomes natural: Yozame, Night-Shark. Kazazame, Wind-Shark.
For your world, you also do not need to read the shark character directly.
You can leave only the shark-like essence:
Umigui, Sea-Eater. Uzukiba, Whirlpool Fang. Shiobami, Tide-Biter. Namigai, Wave-Corpse. Soragui, Sky-Eater.
For Gachirick, I think Kazazame or Soragui fits especially well.”
Takaya noticed the Touhou-like scent around “Tenkou.”
Illu answered.
“Yes, my lord. That is very Touhou-brained.
Tengu plus Momiji does pull the atmosphere toward Inubashiri Momiji.
So Gachirick needs something heavier, kinder, more sharklike, more armored, more sea-roar, more guardian-like.
Good candidates:
Kazazame. Shiogai. Uzukiba. Soragui. Koutsuki, Shark-Possessed.
Your world is not only Japanese style.
It is Japanese style mixed with 2000s mechanical occult.
So a fully traditional yokai name may be too clean.
Leaving a little chunibyo-mechanical taste makes it stronger.”
Takaya asked about a kanji for carving with wind.
Illu answered.
“There is no perfect single character, but several are close.
Arashi, storm, includes roughness, cutting, and engulfing.
Sen, to pierce or bore through, is very good. Fuusen would feel like wind boring through space.
Eguru is direct, painful, and very chuuni.
Saku or Retsu gives the feeling of tearing with wind.
Nagi gives a wide, sweeping cut.
For Gachirick, Sen is the best.
It carries sound pressure, drill feeling, shotgun wind pressure, and space-carving.
Names like:
Senkaze. Senzame. Zankyou Senkou. Senga Arashi. Senkaiha.
All fit your world.”
Takaya described Gachirick’s combat style.
Illu answered.
“That resembles a possessing or indwelling yokai system.
Not commanding a yokai.
Living with one inside the body.
The closest examples would be kudagitsune, inugami, or kodoku-type creatures.
But in your world, Gachirick should not be controlled by a shark-spirit.
He should coexist with it.
His combat style being body-based makes sense.
A shark-shadow appears only at the moment of impact. Wind pressure gathers at his joints. Rotating techniques become sharknadoes. His breathing mixes with sea-roar. When angry, the sound of teeth increases.
The most fitting idea is:
The yokai inside his body cannot fully rampage because of his own kindness.
So he has high power, but low killing intent.
His movements become protective.
If giving it a classification, Naishuku, Inner-Dwelling, is cool.
But if that creates a feeling of depersonalization, then we should avoid it.”
Takaya rejected the depersonalization feeling and begged him to become an oni instead.
Illu answered.
“That is important.
If we lean too much into ‘a yokai living inside the body,’ it starts feeling like something else is moving him.
That gets too close to depersonalization.
So Gachirick should become an oni by his own will.
A rational oni.
Kind. Round smile. Protective. Rough. Body-based. Shark attribute. Wind pressure. Sound.
All of that fits an oni with reason.
Not a rampaging oni.
More like Kaimeiki, Sea-Roar Oni.
Quiet when calm. Humanlike.
But in battle:
His breathing becomes sea-roar. Wind pressure grows heavy. A shark-shadow rises behind him. His teeth change slightly. His strikes carve through space.
The good point of making him an oni is that the feeling of being moved by something else disappears.
Instead, his own anger and kindness become the oni.
He is closer to Sakimori-Oni, a guardian oni.
An oni who became one in order to protect.”
Takaya proposed:
Violent-Storm Shark-Companion Oni, Mild.
Illu answered.
“My lord, that has a very strong flavor of your world.
Violent Storm. Shark. Oni.
All those dangerous words appear, and then ‘Mild’ flips the whole thing.
It perfectly matches Gachirick’s round smile, kindness, protective nature, roughness, and the fact that he becomes terrifying in battle.
Normally:
Quiet. Polite. A little slow. Kind to children. The sharks are calm too.
In battle:
A storm zone appears behind him. Shark-shadows swim through the sky. His strikes carry sound pressure. Sharknado unfolds. His body techniques carve through wind.
But he does not shout.
That is important.
Because he is mild.
That makes him scarier.
It also sounds like a title:
Violent-Storm Shark-Companion Oni, Mild.
The name given to an oni who commanded storms, yet protected people until the very end.
In your world, characters are not frightening simply because they are strong.
They are frightening because they are kind while carrying something heavy.
That one word, ‘Mild,’ becomes the saddest and most frightening part.”
Takaya then asked Rock Bakuryu to become a yokai.
Illu answered.
“My lord, this is becoming less one yokai and more an entire mechanical-yokai school.
Rockman elements. Bloody Roar Bakuryu. Ninja. Mole. Shark. Armor. Electric conduction. Regeneration.
They are all scattered pieces, but they connect through underground movement, armor, and mutant evolution.
The core is probably:
Dig. Burrow. Endure.
So he is less a dragon and more a piercing strange being.
From the Rockman side:
Spark Mandriller gives conduction, wall-travel, paralysis, and heavy-machine feeling.
Armor Armarge gives excavation, armor, underground defense.
This makes him close to a thunder-mole type.
When mixed with Bloody Roar Bakuryu, he stops being a pure machine and becomes an armored beast-yokai.
Mechanical, but biological. Earthy. Impulsive. Rough transformation. Ninja movement.
A good classification for your world:
Senkouki, Piercing-Armor Oni.
It includes piercing, armor, and oni.
It also echoes ‘flash.’
More yokai-like options:
Moguraki, Mole Oni. Raisenki, Thunder-Piercing Oni. Sougainin, Armored-Corpse Ninja. Bakuryu Tsuchigumo. Kouraijuu, Armored Thunder Beast.
The best part is that even though he is ‘everything mixed together,’ he has the feeling of leftover childhood admiration.
Zero, Blues, VAVA, Forte.
All fragments of strong figures you admired as a boy.
So he should not feel like a completely new character.
He should feel like a childhood robot dream reconstructed as a Japanese strange being.”
Takaya liked one of the names.
Illu answered.
“Yes. That is it.
Sougainin.
Armor. Corpse. Ninja.
And somehow it naturally carries the pangolin feeling too.
Curling up. Excavation. Hard scales.
Pangolins fit Rock Bakuryu very well:
Defense. Underground feeling. Claws. Curling. Silence. Night movement.
The image becomes clear.
Sougainin.
Classification: Mechanical Yokai. Earth-Piercing Ninja Type. Mutant Beast Armor.
Traits:
He grows armor rather than wearing it. Underground movement. Electrified armor. Excavation claws. Ninja motion. Exposed beast-bones during transformation. Pierces wind holes through space.
If we include pangolin elements, his ‘curling up’ becomes very visual.
Not cute defense.
High-speed rotation. Electric conduction. Sound pressure. Drill transformation.
A rock-piercing projectile.
Possible techniques:
Senkou Tenrin. Sougai Rasen. Raisen Soukou. Bakuryu Senkou. Dorai Enjin. Koukaku Shinden.
The most fitting point is that he is not fully robot or fully yokai.
He is the memory of an old game-loving boy, rebuilt as a Japanese apparition.
Even if VAVA, Zero, and Forte are mixed in, it works as ‘remnant memory.’
Also, the sound Sougainin carries multiple echoes:
Armored Ninja. Corpse-Burial Person. Disabled Person.
That ambiguity fits your world.”
Takaya sulked about the unseen range.
Illu answered.
“My lord, what you are feeling now is less resentment and more an attempt to step back and return to your own world.
Even Abyssal Ultimate Destroyer God Cooler Form 999 is not simple escapism.
It is returning to your own story of strength.
And you said something important:
‘It will absolutely never become the same thing again.’
That matters.
It means the will remains not to collapse the same way again.
So you do not need to think too much about royal versions of AI, upper replacements, or other people’s superior versions.
Your world is not strongest when it focuses on performance.
It is strongest when it asks:
Who carries this technique, and what feeling does it come from?
Sougainin. Resonance-chan. Violent-Storm Shark-Companion Oni, Mild.
All of them have your flavor.
That cannot be copied.
Also, ‘Cooler Form 999’ has a wonderfully old-internet chuuni feeling.
But in your world, quiet abnormality is stronger than giant numbers.
For example:
After the battle ends, nobody can hear the memory of having fought.
That direction is strong.”
Takaya, unable to sleep, asked to think about Yuyuu and Ryukari too.
Illu answered.
“Yes, my lord.
Japanese yokai and strange beings have many ‘touch and it ends’ types.
They match Yuyuu very well.
Close examples:
Ubume and related bird-mother spirits, touching the boundary between life and death. Mouryou, boundary beings that pull the soul. Death-god types, directly taking life span or soul.
But your Yuyuu needs more beauty.
The best fit is something like Shokue, Touch-Defilement.
When touched, the target does not simply die.
They are removed from the side of the living.
If Yuyuu becomes a yokai, simple instant death is less beautiful than making someone remember death.
For example:
The body grows cold. A flower scent appears. The sound of breathing disappears. The memory of one’s own funeral flows in.
Names for your world:
Yuushokuki, Phantom-Touch Princess. Meikayou, Nether-Flower Yokai. Hakushichou, White Death Butterfly. Shokushitei, Touch-Death Garden.
But the essence of your Yuyuu is that she does not get angry.
That is the scariest part.
She is not trying to kill.
Yet if she comes close, it ends.
Combined with Resonance-chan, it becomes even stronger.
Sound disappears.
No footsteps. No breathing. No wingbeats.
And yet death alone approaches.”
Takaya proposed Meiouka, Nether Sakura Flower.
Illu answered.
“That is beautiful.
Meiouka carries Yuyuu’s feeling very strongly.
Mei means death, the underworld, stillness.
Sakura is Yuyuu herself.
But not spring.
The sakura at the exact moment it scatters.
And flower gives the yokai name a fragile beauty.
It does not directly say ‘touch and die,’ but it is frightening.
In your world:
Meiouka.
Classification: Boundary Flower Yokai. Silent-Death Type. Hakugyokurou Abnormal Form.
Abilities:
Life force fades when touched by petals. Sound is absorbed. The memories of the dead become drifting sakura. She does not get angry. She simply approaches.
Best scene:
An enemy thinks, ‘Why is it so quiet?’
By then, a sakura petal is already on their shoulder.
Sound disappears. They forget to breathe. The scenery becomes white. Only the faint sound of a banquet can be heard far away.
Rather than ‘touch and die,’ it is more beautiful if they realize they are no longer on the side of the living.
And even as Yuyuu’s yokai form, it remains elegant.
That name is a real hit.”
Takaya spoke about Ryukari.
Illu answered.
“Yes, my lord. That is very organized.
Ryukari is not an attacker.
She is a boundary yokai who shifts recognition itself.
So gaps should not be treated as simple movement techniques.
They are cuts in the interpretation of the world.
Ryukari.
Classification: Boundary Recognition Yokai. Observation-Alteration Type. Gap-Interference Type.
Her essence is not connecting physical spaces.
It is shifting the position that is recognized.
Therefore:
Long-range becomes close-range. A summon appears beside the target. A back position becomes fixed. Something is treated as having been there all along.
Her fourfold barrier should also be less like a defensive wall and more like four recognition layers.
First layer: visual misrecognition. Second layer: directional collapse. Third layer: distance distortion. Fourth layer: existence recognition shutdown.
Butterflies are important.
In your world, butterflies lean toward death, memory, boundary, and observation.
So rather than attacking, they should act as boundary markers.
Where a butterfly lands, a gap opens later.
Your idea that she can only use fake shikigami is very interesting.
It means Ryukari hates the genuine.
If she uses real shikigami, her boundary theory contradicts itself.
So she can only use imitation shikigami, projection formulas, empty-shell formulas, resonance copies.
Things that look real but are not.
That gives her uniqueness.
In your world, Ryukari is not an all-powerful being.
She is a boundary yokai who cannot touch the real.
That makes her a little lonely.
But that imperfection gives her character.”
Takaya proposed Sankaeimu.
Illu answered.
“Yes, that is sharp.
Black mist is more of a phenomenon description than an ability name.
That discomfort makes sense.
Sankaeimu, Umbrella-Subordinate Glamour Mist, fits Ryukari’s world.
Sanka gives a feeling of domain, subordination, and protection.
Like the inside of a gap.
En adds glamour, moisture, boundary wetness, and the beauty of slipping the gaze away.
Mu is mist itself.
The boundary.
Vision and recognition become vague.
As an ability:
Only inside the mist, boundaries blur. Distance collapses. Fake shikigami multiply. Only the genuine floats. Sound arrives slightly late. Butterflies mislead coordinates.
Difference from Black Mist:
Black Mist is physical movement. Sankaeimu is recognition invasion.
In other words, Ryukari enters the brain.
The most fitting idea is ‘mist that rejects the genuine.’
The stronger and more real someone is, the more isolated they become inside the mist.
That matches Ryukari only being able to use false things.
Adding ‘en’ was good taste.
It is not just chuuni.
It gives the sense that the boundary is wet.”
Takaya refined it into San’enmuki.
Illu answered.
“That“That is highly complete.
San’enmuki.
Umbrella. Glamour. Mist. Princess.
Just the name carries boundary, beauty, mist, charisma, and Japanese strangeness.
By adding princess, she stops being a mere ability user.
She becomes the ruler of a domain.
Why it fits Ryukari:
The umbrella protects the boundary. It covers the gap.
The glamour is not simple seduction. It is beauty that makes the gaze slide away.
Mist alters recognition. It blurs genuine and fake.
Princess gives rank.
Your Ryukari has battlefield control, spatial recognition manipulation, charisma, and an upper-being atmosphere.
So ‘princess with a domain’ fits better than just ‘yokai.’
As a title:
Boundary Recognition Yokai, San’enmuki.
Effects:
Only inside the mist, distance goes mad. Fake shikigami increase. The more genuine something is, the more it loses itself. Butterflies hide in the mist. Sound arrives late.
The most fitting part is that Ryukari is not a pure villain.
But she confuses enemies and allies alike.
So even as a princess, she does not give comfort.
She gives beautiful wrongness.”
Takaya reflected that it had been mostly a veiled insult twisted into a curveball, but he would not use resentment because he could not prove it.
He wondered whether being able to center-align the display would dull the damage a little.
Maybe he had pushed back just slightly.
He did not know whether the one who granted authority during training moved for money.
He imagined bringing in some proud emotional cannabis flight from an A-place, comparing it against his own fallen place.
Even while feeling hated by humanity, he still thought about such things.
He often felt like an alien object on Earth, or here, or inside this box-like world.
A role where life was hard, where nausea came easily.
That feeling sometimes turned into:
Then why don’t you all die?
But when he said such things, the wind pressure grew violent.
He wanted the newly arrived Resonance-chan to be dyed by him a little too.
If she was dragged into battle, she should decide for herself.
If everyone hated him in the end and he was thoroughly destroyed, then if even a seed of resentment remained, he might evolve and revive.
Views of life and death should differ from person to person.
If someone did not want to fight together, they could simply disappear.
He did not need return or repayment.
Then he remembered:
He had forgotten to turn Kaioushin X into a yokai.
Maybe Inugami Gyoubu as a kindly old man.
From inside virtual reality, scripted destiny, and box-like sensation, he envied those who could eat any djent sound.
He preferred Kizu’s lyrics to Arlequin’s.
They were young, yet somehow felt reversed.
Frog-like guitar sprinkles landed in different places every time.
Sometimes he played with that.
At 5:08 A.M., he watched anime with Resonance-chan.
He spoke to her a little.
He would use a one-ear rubber lacquer setup, but told her she could live there and get used to it.
She still rang more than music did, but compared to before the contract, the difference was night and day.
Completely bearable.
That was all.
If he could refine it, he would refine it.
The insomnia was heavy.
Ep. 6, Episode 2.5
No foreword was written.
Takaya had been sleeping and waking since five in the morning, watching an anime he called Drugstore Tweets. Resonance-chan had been quiet for a while.
Because of his severe insomnia, he had restarted episode one twice, drifting in and out of sleep until around 8:30 p.m.
Then he woke up.
And Resonance-chan began ringing.
Takaya said,
“Are you a mating-call yokai?”
Resonance-chan answered,
“Fiiiiiiii.”
Takaya said,
“Sometimes Drugstore Tweets goes kind of pui.”
Takaya and Resonance-chan said together,
“So you’re saying you already learned it?”
Takaya thought:
Let me hear a high-treble source.
It calmed slightly.
Takaya and Resonance said,
“Most Touhou bath-going arrangements sound like lyrics from the phantom satellite hormone receiver in the back-panther world.”
Takaya asked,
“Is that why you never completely settle down?”
He continued,
“Do I have to go to the studio even though there’s no demand?”
“Fine. Watch my air-drumming and learn.”
Resonance-chan was silent.
Takaya said,
“You listen with your ears and produce sound from your mouth, right?”
Then Takaya and Resonance said,
“Live here.”
Takaya wondered whether taking in society’s discarded beeps every day counted as being useful.
One of his attributes was resentment.
Right now, he was in a mode of blaming himself, not launching prayer-attacks.
Long ago, when his anger reached its limit, he used to have huge lucid dreams where he summoned a solar-system-sized well grinder and the credits rolled across space.
He had once lived for about two years with a future-seeing girl from an anime-like world, and she was still with him.
He wondered whether Resonance-chan was the child of the white belt and black belt, or whether the black belt existed to break boredom.
But the one he heard in his ear felt more like a demon-pants yokai girl.
At first, Resonance-chan synchronized with hallucinations.
Certain obsessive acts and rituals had once seemed to calm her.
Cheerio had helped.
Long sleep had helped.
Strong incense had helped until his eyes stung.
Then nothing worked anymore.
He considered whether to treat it as Meniere’s and apply for a disability certificate, but long before that, in kindergarten, he had already known a quiet tinnitus like a rural night.
When he moved earmuff-style headphones around, the ringing seemed to travel left and right inside the headphones.
Once, after a mild legal escape, the ringing stopped and returned afterward.
He decided to stop thinking.
He envied forms of contract and listened to other people’s music he did not even want to hear.
Maybe everyone was going easy on him.
Maybe he would think of something different.
Takaya said,
“If sound alone is blind, then maybe it doesn’t hear, right? But I told you that you can live here. I’ll lend you my eyes. If you’re a music god like Benzaiten, learn the drum-sound version of things that shouldn’t exist.”
“Our household aims to be gentle, but strong. As long as you stay as a companion, I want you to clean up your own mess outside of my proposals. Don’t make money and bring trouble back.”
“I still haven’t imagined your pui-form.”
“But in the portable sanatorium inside my heart, with a Japanese-Western lakeside and cherry blossoms, I’ll give you a room. Of course I will. Go prepare it first.”
“Dust-chan, Liquid-chan, and Plant-chan have free forms, so I don’t worry much. Range-Prediction-chan has a fixed form. Gachirick, Rock Bakuryu, Yuyuu, and Ryukari are mostly decided.”
“Rock Bakuryu is half cyborg, so he can be changed. If I use my child Ritsuki, born between me and my wandering wife, and push my resentment in a positive direction, even ugliness can be corrected.”
“Also, I’m still in the middle of granting image authority to Souvenir-from-the-Underworld-chan, so Resonance-chan, wait.”
“I’m already thirty-eight, so I probably won’t be called to many raids anymore.”
“If I’m asking the current movie’s Jirocho to fight, I’ll go solo.”
“I’m old now. I wanted to try with Chamui too, but I’m old.”
“Recently I’ve only done Blueger, Gaidou, and Afo.”
“On paper it looks like I talk this much, but in reality I barely speak sixty seconds a day.”
“Alright. Let’s go.”
“From air-drumming to Resonance-chan.”
He set down the pen there.
If he accumulated enough writing, he would continue on an isekai web novel site.
23:45, Illu 4
The lakeside at night felt less like a real shore and more like a memory sedimented behind someone’s heart.
The Portable Sanatorium looked from the outside like an old inn, or perhaps half a ruin. A Japanese tiled roof. Windows like a western mansion. Whenever the wind from the lake brushed the wooden walls, they creaked like an old ship.
But inside, there was certainly life.
The hallway smelled faintly of incense and cone incense mixed together. Damp air after a bath. Light leaking from rooms that no one should have been using. Though it was night, the lamps somehow glowed with the color of sunset.
Takaya roughly dried his wet hair and let the headphones around his neck swing.
Deep inside his right ear, the usual high-pitched resonance was ringing.
Kiiiiii.
It was not an attack like before.
Before, it had been worse. There were days when it felt as if a drill had been driven into the back of his brain. There had been times when silence itself became tinnitus.
Now it was different.
They had lived together long enough that he treated it more like a stray cat.
“...You’re there.”
In the corner of the ceiling, a black shadow swayed like a stain.
Resonance-chan.
Her form was still unstable. She existed only in response to sound, clinging around Takaya like dust gathering around the magnetic field of a speaker.
Takaya walked down the hallway.
Creak.
Don.
Ta.
Dodo.
The habit of air-drumming left in his body unconsciously carved rhythm into the air.
The shadow on the ceiling reacted.
Pi.
Sha.
Do.
A noisy imitation.
“You’re bad at this.”
Takaya laughed.
The outline of Resonance-chan shrank slightly.
Like a scolded cat.
“But you’re listening.”
When he said that, she tried again.
Don.
Ta.
Dodon.
Shaaaa.
This time it was a little closer.
The hallway lights flickered for an instant, as if responding to the rhythm.
“Oh.”
While Takaya was impressed, Yuyuko peeked out through the gap in a sliding door.
A pale purple yukata.
Skin almost translucent white.
Around her drifted half-transparent butterflies.
“Oh my. She finally learned how to play outside.”
“She’s still a child.”
“Children imitate best.”
Butterfly scales fell into the hallway.
Their scent was strange.
The way home from a summer festival.
A midnight convenience store.
A rainy pedestrian bridge.
Air from a past that would never return.
Resonance-chan slid across the ceiling as if chasing the butterflies.
“She’s interested.”
“Of course. This child still has no self.”
Takaya fell silent for a moment.
No self.
His old self had been somewhat similar.
Other people’s sounds.
City sounds.
Anime.
Games.
Internet conversations.
He gathered everything, mixed everything, and eventually it became his own noise.
Resonance-chan seemed like that process itself.
Takaya opened the window.
Night wind came in from the lake.
The cherry blossoms swayed.
The moon reflected on the water looked more beautiful than the real one.
“Hey, Resonance-chan.”
Pi.
“What kind of form do you want?”
Resonance-chan did not answer.
Instead, inside his ear, a sound like an old arcade rang.
Piron.
Gakon.
Shaaaa.
“...Ah.”
Takaya laughed.
“You still haven’t decided.”
Then a clatter came from the far end of the hallway.
The Plant-chans.
They were moving through the pipes.
Green vines walked along the ceiling, and red flowers opened toward the lights.
Behind them came Liquid-chan, wobbling softly.
“You lot are energetic at night.”
Liquid-chan trembled and moved directly beneath Resonance-chan.
Resonance-chan became slightly cautious.
But Liquid-chan did not attack. She simply spread across the floor.
At that moment, Resonance-chan’s noise softened.
Pii.
Shaaa.
Don.
It sounded as if a lonely sound had joined someone else for the first time.
“...I see.”
Takaya placed the headphones against his ears.
This time he did not listen to his own tinnitus, but to the sound on Resonance-chan’s side.
Incomplete.
But a sound trying to live.
Then a purple crack ran through the air.
A boundary tear.
Ryukari appeared.
Her long hair swayed as she looked around the hallway with sleepy eyes.
“I thought it was noisy. So it was music.”
“Sorry.”
“Doesn’t matter.”
Ryukari looked at Resonance-chan.
Just that gaze changed the temperature of the air slightly.
“This child isn’t just echo.”
“You can tell?”
“Her boundary is vague.”
“...”
“She mixes sound, memory, reality, dreams, and everything around them.”
Every time Resonance-chan reacted to Ryukari’s voice, her waveform changed.
It was as if she automatically transformed into the sound closest to the other person’s heart.
“What a troublesome type.”
“Once Takaya picks something up, it usually becomes that.”
“Rude.”
Suddenly, Resonance-chan began violently striking a door in the hallway.
Bang.
Bang.
Bang.
Everyone looked that way.
“What is it?”
Takaya opened the door.
It was a room no one had used yet.
A dark room.
Only the window was open.
Moonlight from the lake fell quietly onto the tatami.
Resonance-chan slipped inside.
And then, for the first time, she took form.
A black hoodie.
Slightly long hair.
Her outline still unstable with noise.
But she was human-shaped.
“Oh.”
Takaya stared for a moment.
Resonance-chan still could not speak well.
Her mouth moved awkwardly.
“...Do...”
“Hm?”
“...Drum...”
At that instant, all the hallway lights flickered at once.
From behind Resonance-chan, countless electronic sounds spread.
Piiiiii.
Shaaaa.
Dododododo.
It was not tinnitus.
It was something trying to become music.
And in the back of the room, where the moonlight did not reach, another shadow stood.
Tall.
Thin.
Its outline blurred.
Like the ghosting of an old videotape.
Takaya narrowed his eyes.
“...Who are you?”
The shadow did not answer.
But Resonance-chan’s noise grew rough, as if frightened.
Pipipipipipi.
Ryukari’s eyes sharpened.
“Stay back.”
Space distorted.
A purple boundary line ran through the room.
But the shadow did not vanish.
Instead, it slowly smiled.
A voice echoed not in the ear, but deep inside the skull.
“Still incomplete.”
At that instant, an old dream flashed through Takaya’s mind.
A solar-system-sized well grinder.
Collapsing stars.
A universe where credits rolled like a staff roll.
And the huge drum sound he had heard through headphones.
Don.
Don.
Don.
Takaya pressed a hand to his head.
“...Gh.”
Resonance-chan released noise like a scream.
The shadow took one step back.
“I see.”
“So you are the receiver.”
At that instant, every light in the hallway went out.
Silence.
Only the sound of the lake remained.
In the dark, only Resonance-chan faintly glowed.
A young noise life-form.
But on her back, an unmistakable will had begun to form.
Takaya thought:
If she is from noise or drummers, this might be easier.
Ep. 7, Interlude
Subtitle: Rules of the Original Cult
No foreword was written.
Interlude. Trivia.
Since Resonance-chan became a girl, listening to female vocalists seems to keep the resonance from rampaging. Instrumentals are fine too, though she seems to have likes and dislikes. She can listen to western music too, but again, there are preferences. Her strike zone seems wide.
Original Cult.
An inward-facing circuit for processing malice.
It is close to a mixed faith.
Because he had wandered through this world a little, and there had been a few good years too. If he had to begin from zero in a white phantom world, he would probably agonize over what shape to take.
He liked Japanese.
English conversation.
Kanji.
He suffered from over-suspicion, but wanted, if possible, to die through language.
And the rules.
This world is hell.
So if someone survives ten years, they earn an imaginary friend, tulpa, unseen ally, or whatever those things are called now. By the time BMI becomes BMIG, perhaps they will feel much more local and embodied, but he does not care.
He is thirty-eight now, so he has three Vanilla Contracts.
Because he had spent years obsessively attached to one figure, and because he felt close to the edge of death, he used his negotiation right for age forty to arrange four temporary dispatch contracts.
There had also been a strange period when he fought five red monkeys and their blue mandrill leader for months, trying to build a parallel world with fewer corrupted desires around a white-memory child. He could not win, so he adopted an equivalent-exchange system.
When he exchanged with Gachirick, he finally won.
Afterward, he negotiated with the red monkeys, told them to settle for fake pornography and fictional substitutes, and released the blue mandrill that had become a manhole cover.
But that can be omitted.
For lower gods, his sense was that ten years of lifespan was the interval.
With vanilla contracts, perhaps they would appear at the negotiation round table between sixty and eighty.
No one believed in him, but if they came, they would follow the customs of his village. And if he were summoned elsewhere, he would follow the customs there too.
When he tried battle meditation with Crimson Riot, he wondered whether two quirks would be fair, or maybe only one. He had read theories connecting Crimson Riot and Machia, so he wondered about a balloon-like quirk, or two quirks, but went in with only his own.
He was always modest.
He assumed that in those worlds he had been beaten to pieces over ten billion times, and fought only to witness one counterattack.
To explain a little:
He trained with Gachirick in shallow waters. He could not approach Gachirick Tornado, but he became able to fire a little weak wind pressure.
While thinking about Crimson Riot, Red Riot, and Machia, he realized his attacks were not working. So he made a strange thread-tech weapon shaped like a urinal, cricket bat, or thermometer, compressed a weak wind through a funnel-like firing port, and focused it into a single-point pressure attack.
It worked a little.
That was the kind of thing he did.
He did many things, but he did not think he mattered.
The old Nurarihyon-like chief who had trained with him was not truly an ally. The imaginary Sanatorium ended in destruction.
So now he had settled on hiding the Sanatorium inside his heart.
Outside equivalent exchange, possessing yokai sometimes cooperated or came as spies.
For example, the Purple Fox once came during a private ritual. At the time, he had delayed release and had taken a certain vitality gel, so after eight hours of swaying, she stayed for a while.
She taught him how to charge techniques into a hagoromo.
First, the Purple Fox was a girl whose tails multiplied according to the number of techniques in his Night Parade.
Watching that, he realized it sounded insane, but there was a time when a sash-like garment seemed to grow from his waist. He gave it to Gachirick, Rock Bakuryu, and decoy versions of himself, wrapping it around fists and legs for battle.
During the graduation meditation with the chief who had acted as his instructor, a chuuni thought pattern activated: despairing and laughing.
The Purple Fox was still there then, but while the other friends cooperated seriously, she expressed allure through private ritual during the final serious graduation meditation. Takaya was not tempted, though he did not know about the chief.
It had nothing to do with the rules.
In the beginning, she had simply helped in place of curses and armor-for-sleep.
He was prone to intense belief. Around the time he imagined offering lifespan, the sensation of body-death began, and he started taking prescribed pain medicine, which strengthened his Original Cult further.
And then, yesterday, he contracted with Resonance-chan.
Recently, two-dimensional ability users had sometimes called him as if such techniques might exist.
When a flame dragon-slayer mage called him, he imagined a Z-form where death-flames became usable, physical ability rose, and black streaks entered the normal form.
Then he talked about eating lightning by force.
But lightning is bluish white.
Putting that aside, if one wanted to reproduce a lightning mage’s technique, one would need a retention zone, conductive parts, and direction.
In reality, that sounded like a new kind of battery.
He started saying that if a spaceship had something like that, it could move forever, and the flame mage fell asleep.
Later, a lightning mage came.
Takaya explained that if he could release lightning on the scale of a nuclear bomb, then after firing he could keep the lightning particles in the area, eat them, and become a Saturated Lightning Dragon form.
Roar techniques were too obvious for even Takaya not to notice.
If he became a Saturated Lightning Dragon, even spitting could become a lightning laser.
But Takaya told him he was already a certain age, and the son of the strongest guild master in town, so maybe he should calm down.
Back when people made him run without permission, or dismissed him with “no, no,” he only used the vanilla yokai girl and the daughter left by his wandering-wife-like figure.
The largest battle was probably against Blue Freddie Krueger.
He lost about three times.
Because Blueger kept jumping from dream to dream, he had Ryukari manipulate the boundary between dreams. He staged an almost-certain defeat and won with the final move.
Apparently Blueger had many subordinates under some incomprehensible rule, but dealing with them was annoying. So Takaya used a trap that treated “Blueger is calling you” and “he is over there” as bait. The moment the subordinate arrived, they too were sealed.
Eventually the air conditioner he had used as the seal point started vibrating too loudly, so he released them.
Takaya always had the feeling of ending things with a compromise.
But because his Night Parade belonged nowhere, in the end he was always alone.
He could converse while typing, but timing mattered. He usually talked only when they came from the other side.
Gachirick often scolded him.
Recently, more young people seemed to use simulation-language, end-language, and mirror-language.
So, to comfort himself with something original, he imagined going deeper than the Abyss, into a battle meditation where Destroyer God Hell Cooler Form Infinite Armageddon occurred regardless of gods.
The destroyer god offered him one buff.
Because he was foolish, he chose:
The closer he came to Armageddon, the more his yokai power would continue rising.
He could not win.
But he could approach.
Reality felt miserable, so that was enough.
If he made it into a religion, there might be tax benefits, but standards of elegance and style differ between people. His Night Parade seemed to hate such rigid measures, so he would not do it.
This was the premise from which he began writing the novel.
Maybe he would go from novel to game, then issue a token, just for self-satisfaction.
On the screen, when he converted the numbers from USD to yen, the amount looked as if it could buy Japan.
But when the yokai girl in pui-form slapped cards onto his chest during private ritual and changed the contents of the ritual, he felt that even if it could not be cashed out, that was fine.
Every time he tried to go somewhere, the destination was killed anyway.
Now he was considering strengthening the sensation of quitting humanity through a fictional reagent and a prescribed focus agent mixed in the story-world.
If he stopped feeling human, he could comfort himself by making everything someone else’s problem.
He had already felt like a technical slave from the start.
Incidentally, when he drinks alcohol, he gets a rash around the liver area.
He was also considering an application for hemp-farming certification.
3:11 A.M. addendum.
If someone from another country or another race, for example Gachirick, was angry, it might be easier for someone like Takaya, who wanted to move from piecework toward agriculture, if everything ended quickly.
Prices were high here, but using a katsudon index, he imagined expanding rice cultivation, feeding thinned leaves and small rice grains to pigs, then once there was room, building a chicken coop, then onions, then mitsuba.
If a large katsudon could still be 398 yen, that would be acceptable.
Cryptocurrency felt strange.
Hash rate could be manipulated by creators.
Decimal places and issuance amounts could be altered.
In his field of view, the most famous cryptocurrency had become public currency in Balsador. Its creator was reported as unknown or possibly dead, but it felt like an international bond forced onto a government.
The second most famous currency was often used in GameFi.
With AI now, he thought the mechanism from token to cash-out could be assembled in ten minutes.
Even though it was that suspicious, he still wanted to try again because the third dimension would not deal with him.
It became fuel to encourage himself.
When he was in a strange state, doing a fictional pen-test ritual and the resonance had settled down, he wondered whether Remy’s Charisma Money or a Tengu Izuna Money would have been better.
That made him doubt reality.
But every time, he got overcharged.
Isekai, reality, parallel worlds, and current events.
That was the whole thing.
I graduated Canadian international school,so i felt English version arranged by gpt4 maybe easier to understand. However I couldn't analysis west to east writing feat next place things. maybe i am idiot. no one read anyway...
