Chapter 10: Fortune Smiles Upon You
As always, dinner was served on the
veranda. Minato and the mountain god sat across from each other at a low table,
while the sacred turtle had its face buried in a deep dish of sake, blissfully
drinking from its personal fountain.
Minato, cheerful and relaxed, was
recounting the day’s unexpected stroke of luck.
“So yeah, I guess I was really lucky
today. I brought back one bottle of sake for now. How is it, Turtle-san?
Tasty?”
The turtle nudged its empty dish toward
Minato with its forehead. Not a single drop remained clearly satisfied.
“The rest will be delivered tomorrow.
Something to look forward to.”
Laughing, Minato poured a generous
serving into the mountain god’s bowl as well.
“That’s wonderful,” the god said.
“Yeah. I also picked up some wagashi
from a local fair famous sweet from my hometown.”
“Ah, white bean paste… its moist texture
is truly exquisite.”
“Glad you like it. I bought some for
your familiars too, even though they’re not here today.”
The familiars only visited occasionally,
but Minato had made sure to get Western-style sweets for them as well.
“Your....”
“Ah.”
Just as the mountain god began to speak,
Minato’s phone buzzed on the table. He glanced at the screen: Home. He
nodded and answered.
“Hey, Mom. Yeah, I’m doing fine. How’s
everything over there”
They exchanged updates. Everyone back
home was well, which was a relief. His mother, ever the worrier, peppered him
with questions, and Minato responded patiently.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m taking care of myself.
No, I’m not sleeping with my stomach exposed. I’m not a kid. And I asked
Thunder-sama about that whole belly-button thing he said, ‘No way, I wouldn’t
take something like that!’ Uh, never mind. Anyway, what’s up? …Wait, what?!
…Okay. Thanks.”
He slowly lowered the phone, resting it
on his knee, staring blankly at the darkened screen.
The mountain god flicked his tail and
tilted his head.
“What’s the matter?”
“Apparently, that sweepstakes postcard I
sent before moving here… I won. A million yen. They’re transferring it to my
account.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah. I mean… this much luck in a row?
It’s kind of unreal. But it’s happening.”
“A reward for your good deeds, no
doubt.”
“You think so…?”
Minato scratched his chin, puzzled. He
didn’t feel like he’d done anything special. Still, with this windfall, he
could afford to keep the gods well-fed for a while.
He set the phone down and picked up his
glass.
“Still, I’m going to look for work.”
“As you wish.”
The mountain god glanced at the turtle,
now drunkenly sprawled beside its dish, and took a sip of sake with a quiet
chuckle.
The next day,
the onmyoji Harima returned, bearing a box of sweets.
He bowed deeply across the table.
“I’d like to formally request your help
with ofuda creation.”
This time, Harima looked sharp dressed
in a pristine black suit, hair neatly styled, complexion healthy. He radiated
competence.
Minato had mixed feelings about people
who wore suits that perfectly hugged their frame and paired them with glasses.
They always seemed so… capable. But he also worried about those who
worked themselves to exhaustion.
Still, this was a golden opportunity. A
job that actually used his mysterious skill? He couldn’t pass it up.
“I accept.”
He smiled and took the box of sweets
with both hands. As he did, the mountain god’s intense gaze followed the box
like a laser beam.
It was unmistakable: high-end wagashi.
Harima grinned knowingly.
“I figured you’d like these.”
Minato gave his signature awkward smile.
Harima must’ve assumed he was a wagashi fanatic probably because last time, all
the ofuda had been written with names of traditional sweets.
Well… the mountain god was the
real sweet tooth.
Minato glanced at the drooling deity and
replied smoothly:
“Yeah, I like them.”
In truth, Minato preferred spicy snacks.
But if a little white lie meant more delicious offerings for the mountain god,
he could live with it.
Harima left shortly after receiving a
fresh memo sheet covered in wagashi names.
The mountain god, practically vibrating
with excitement, urged Minato to open the box immediately.
A soft scent of cherry blossoms wafted
out.
Inside were glistening sakura mochi
wrapped in twin cherry leaves elegant domyoji-style confections.
The mountain god’s drool flowed like a
waterfall. Minato rushed to plate them.
One by one, the god savored each bite,
eyes closed in bliss.
“The aroma… divine. The texture,
sublime. The saltiness, perfectly balanced. Ahh… it melts on the tongue… this…
this…”
He was practically ascending to another
plane.
Meanwhile, Minato munched happily on a
crunchy rice cracker labeled “Extra Spicy Value Pack.”
“So good.”
A simple man with simple tastes. He
peeled off his jacket, now flushed from the heat, and sat in his T-shirt.
The mountain god gave him a complicated
look.
“To each their own. If it pleases you, I
shall not object.”
“I’m not really into sweets. Don’t worry
about it.”
Minato had refused the sakura mochi
again, and the god seemed mildly hurt. But Minato didn’t fuss over snacks—this
conversation happened every time.
“Anyway, I’m glad I found work.”
Even if the job had come to him.
He sipped ginger ale with a grin. The
mountain god sighed, not bothering to hide his exasperation.
“You should spend a little on yourself.”
“I don’t really need anything.”
“You’re too selfless.”
“Not true. Actually, there is
something I want.”
“Oh?”
“I’ll go buy it tomorrow.”
The mountain god rolled the last sakura
mochi across his tongue, while the turtle licked salt from its dish.
The next day,
Minato’s voice rang out from the garden.
“Wow, brand new really makes a
difference!”
He was sweeping with a freshly bought
bamboo broom, dressed in worn-out sweats and sandals, beaming with joy.
The gods, surrounded by luxurious
offerings, watched him with mixed feelings.
That night,
Minato packed carefully at the dining table.
He placed a pair of work gloves into his
backpack, which hadn’t seen action in a while.
“Alright, that should do it.”
He zipped it up and set it on a chair.
From a cardboard box at his feet, he pulled out a plastic bag.
Inside: his old hiking boots, sent from
home.
He held them up, inspecting every inch.
“A little worn, but still solid.”
One heel had a deep scuff, but the soles
were intact. He’d chosen them carefully years ago they were still his favorite.
He retied the laces with care.
“Let’s do our best tomorrow.”
Tomorrow, he’d be paying a visit to the
mountain god’s domain bright and early.
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