The Path I Want to Follow

by Storytales90

Summary:

Fuji/Pirilika-centric.

With the Empathy Killer curse finally gone, Fuji faces the challenge of understanding his own emotions after fifteen human years of numbness.

Beside him, Pirilika begins questioning where home and heart truly meet.

As their bond shifts—slowly, awkwardly, and in ways neither expects—Fuji strives to prove himself worthy of Higan and the title of Zesshosai. Together, they must navigate the complexities of love, loyalty, and self-discovery.

A story of swords, stubbornness, and the paths they choose to follow.

Note: This story will be updated on Mondays and Thursdays.

Chapter 1: Path One - The Beginning

Hinomoto – Outside Gero Haunt Springs – Fifteen Human Years Earlier

“Hey, you! Wake up!”

The voice cut through the silence, shaking Fuji from the pit of exhaustion where he’d collapsed—starving, sleepless, and barely clinging to consciousness.

He didn’t want to open his eyes.

He was tired. Tired of his young life. A small part of him even hoped death might come quietly, just to end it.

What came instead was a brutal slap across the face.

“Ouch! That hurts!” he yelped, eyes flying open.

Towering above him stood a tall demoness—long crimson hair, two curved horns, a blade in her hand, and an expression sharp enough to paralyze lesser demons.

“Finally awake? Good. Time to start training,” she declared with fiery conviction.

“Eeeh?” Fuji croaked. Whether from hunger or sheer fatigue, he couldn’t make sense of her words. To make things worse, his stomach let out a long, feral growl.

“What do you mean ‘eh’? I’ve decided to take you as my student, and I do not tolerate delays.”

“Your student? I don’t even know who you are!” Fuji protested.

“Oh? Don’t want to be? Then stop me,” she challenged, raising her sword.

The result was inevitable.

Fuji fought back, but the match was one-sided. Brutally so. He collapsed in defeat.

“…My name’s Fuji…” he muttered. “And you… who are you, Master?”

“Higan Zesshosai,” she replied. “Now eat this ohagi. Then we begin.”

Fuji froze.

He hadn’t eaten ohagi since his mother—Fuyo—had passed away. It was the treat she used to make for him on his birthday.

Just the thought of her… and the Empathy Killer curse surged violently through his body.

Blood trickled from his lips.

He wiped it away in silence, and Higan said nothing.

Then, through tears, he accepted the treat. The sweet scent of red bean and rice hit him like a memory.

And so his life as Master Higan’s disciple began.

---

Wahei – Nethership – Present Day

Fuji opened his eyes to that annoying sensation of being watched.

Apparently, he’d dozed off. Not on purpose, but the exhaustion had finally caught up to him—nonstop missions for the Nethertime Support Force, living in a Netherworld whose language still eluded him, the unfamiliar culture, and the conversation with Piriko yesterday...

Even the training here was difficult—Wahei swordsmanship techniques could deflect his strikes with unsettling ease.

Still lost in thought, he blinked and noticed Pii-Chan standing over him.

Without a word, the Prinny tossed a book onto his chest.

Hinomotonian for Your Little Demon.

“What the hell am I supposed to do with this, beakface? I’m from Hinomoto,” Fuji grumbled.

Pii-Chan sighed long and loud.

“This is the book Miss Pirilika used to study your language. I figured you’d be smart enough to reverse the process and use it to learn Waheiese. Clearly, I overestimated you.”

“Oh…” was all Fuji could say.

But a sudden suspicion flickered in his mind.

If Piriko learned from this book… then why does she butcher Hinomotonian sayings like a demon trying to quote the Demonic Comedy mid-headbutt?

He flipped through a few pages.

Nope. The Hinomotonian parts were decidedly accurate.

The inevitable conclusion was that Piriko had a natural talent... for linguistic chaos.

“…Tch.”

Fuji tucked the book under his arm and headed toward his quarters to prep for that afternoon’s mission.

Another day. Another step on the road toward becoming Zesshosai.

---

Meanwhile – Opener, Cannonline, and Pirilika’s Home

Pirilika was double-checking the last mission details before heading off to meet Fuji and Pii-Chan at the Nethership.

But part of her mind was still caught on the conversation she’d had with Fuji the night before.

Ever since their arrival in Wahei, and with her parents’ permission, she’d offered to let Fuji stay in the guest room—just in case they needed to discuss mission logistics or strategy in a more comfortable setting.

But every single time, Fuji had politely declined.

Last night, after she’d asked him again—maybe because he looked so tired, with dark circles under his eyes—he finally gave an answer that made her chest ache.

“The last place I ever called home… was where I lived in Gero Haunt Springs, with my parents.”

Silence had followed.

Pirilika couldn’t stop replaying those words in her mind. How could she have missed something so important? After all that time at his side?

But now it was painfully obvious.

Back when he was deep in debt—because he’d insisted on compensating every person hurt during Ao’s destructive rampage, so they wouldn’t seek revenge against her—it made sense that Fuji couldn’t afford a home.

But now?

Even after Ao had stopped and the debts had long been paid… Fuji still lived like that balance might collapse any day. He still refused to settle anywhere long-term. He still ate just enough to function, nothing more.

The only indulgences he allowed himself, he’d once admitted, were her homemade fluffy fluffy fluffcakes… and the ohagi he prepared on his birthday—a tradition Ao and Pirilika had stumbled on by chance after learning it had been his late mother Fuyo’s special treat for him. (1)

She remembered what she told him that day—after defeating the first Zesshosai—while the Empathy Killer Curse still gripped his heart and soul: (2)

"Our battles as the Nethertime Support Force continue! Let's do our best to rescue all who've been turned into Infernal Treasures!"

"GAHHH...!? Pirsillyka! Don't turn my catchphrase into something so disgustingly undemonlike!"

"Hehehe, change is good for you! Isn't it tough to be so bad all the time? It's okay to be your true self with me."

"Hmph, I am not forcing myself to do anything. Being around you guys makes the real me comes out, wether I like it or not."

"That's a relief to hear. Especially since I want to build an environment where you can be yourself."

But now, it was clear that such a place still didn’t exist for him. Not even after the Empathy Killer curse had lifted. Not even after five turns of the Dark Sun living aboard the Nethership. Wherever it was… it was still far away.

Maybe… someday… she could help build a world where he didn’t have to brace for it to collapse.

Her alarm went off, snapping her from her thoughts. She’d set it to make sure she wouldn’t be late meeting Fuji and Pii-Chan.

With a sigh, Pirilika stood up and got ready to go.

Notes:

(1) According to Disgaea RPG
(2) Disgaea 7 - Carnage's Postlude

Chapter 2: Of Bandits, Baguettes, and Battlemeat

Notes:

5 turns of the Dark Sun = 5 years for Fuji, 500 years physically, so at this point he is 2500 years old and Pirilika 2000 years old

Wahei – Hogano Ridge Outskirts

The mission, based on the details Piriko had provided, was supposed to be the usual "track down the bad demon and retrieve the stolen loot" type.

So then why, Fuji wondered, was she currently discussing—very loudly—with what appeared to be the mayor of Hogano Ridge… while three orc women sobbed at his side? (1)

Unfortunately, not knowing Waheiese, all Fuji could do was watch the scene unfold without understanding a single word.

At some point, Pirilika must’ve said something inappropriate—Fuji figured—because the mayor raised his voice, Pii-Chan facepalmed, and the three orc women stopped crying and adopted unmistakably murderous expressions.

Fuji watched as Pirilika calmly slipped her pink backpack off her shoulder and put on the exact expression she always wore when she was about to bribe someone with fluffy fluffy fluffcakes…

Which, of course, is exactly what happened.

While the mayor and the orc women ate, Pirilika and Pii-Chan returned to Fuji.

“Looks like three little orcs went missing on the same day the city’s food silos were raided,” Pirilika explained. “Their mothers, the ones eating my fluffy fluffy fluffcakes, are worried sick. I don’t know why, but when I suggested the kids might’ve joined the thieves because they were tempted by food, everyone got super offended.”

Fuji sighed.

Even after knowing her for more than five turns of the Dark Sun, Piriko still managed to surprise him. Utterly brilliant when it came to Tempoora and running the Nethertime Support Force—not that he’d ever say it to her face.

And yet, in certain moments, she still said things that reminded him of the teenager outside Penne's noodle shop—the one who had infuriated the shopkeeper with her wild commentary and clumsy bribery attempts to get out of trouble. (2)

As luck would have it, on that distant day, Fuji happened to be nearby, looking for any job he could find to repay the mountain of debts caused by Ao’s destructive rampage.

When he saw Pirilika trying to bribe the owner with stacks of HL, Fuji hadn’t hesitated to offer to beat up the shopkeeper to get her out of trouble. An easy, painless job—and one that would earn him a lot of money, or so he had thought.

Instead…

Fuji shook his head. This was no time to get lost in a memory lane in pure Piriko style.

After Pii-Chan returned to the Nethership to wait for them “like a good little Prinny,” the mission began.

---

Wahei – Canyon Trail – Shortly After

Fuji and Pirilika had barely walked ten minutes past the city limits of Hogano Ridge when the first clue made itself known.

It wasn’t footprints. Or a suspicious trail. Or even demonic energy.

It was… a half-eaten pineapple pastry.

Fuji froze.

“What the hell?” he muttered.

Pirilika crouched beside the squished pastry, gasping. “What a waste of food! Who did this?”

Fuji raised an eyebrow. “I think we’re about to find out. Look at that trail, Piriko.”

They continued down the rocky path, following the improbable trail of progressively mangled pastries. One had been squashed under what looked like an oversized boot, another was stuck to a cactus, and the third…

“…Is that one floating?” Fuji asked, squinting.

It was. Or rather, dangling midair—caught in a crude wire trap, like bait.

Pirilika’s eyes lit up. “We’ve found them! Or at least, someone with extremely poor snacking etiquette!”

Fuji grunted. “Either that or we’ve been lured into a sugar-based ambush.”

A chunk of rock nearby creaked—and opened.

A hidden door, camouflaged in the canyon wall, slowly swung aside.

From the shadows came the unmistakable scent of stolen food, bad hygiene, and desperation.

Fuji blinked.

“Tch. This reminds me of that dumb Hinomotonian folktale about the orc samurai.”

Pirilika looked confused. “What legend?”

Fuji unsheathed his Kanzan Musashi. “Things are getting interesting. Let’s go, Piriko.”

---

Inside the Hideout – Moments Later

The scent of roasted meat and sweet pastry grew stronger as Fuji and Pirilika stepped through the hidden doorway.

The place was a nest of chaos: scattered crates, discarded cutlery, and a garish flag that read "MEAT BEFORE HONOR."

Fuji raised an eyebrow. “You sure this isn’t a parody troupe?”

They rounded a corner—and stopped.

On the ground lay a dozen defeated bandits. Groaning, tangled, unconscious. One had a pineapple tart stuck to his forehead.

In the middle, snoring in a cozy pile of blankets, were three small orcs—curled up like puppies, drooling and content.

Each wore mismatched armor: a pot helmet, shoulder trays, a cape made from a flour sack.

Fuji blinked. “…You’ve got to be kidding me. They’re reenacting the whole legend down to the snoring,” he grumbled.

Pirilika grinned. “They’re so peaceful!”

Fuji crouched to start tying up the bandits.

SPLAT.

A banana cream tart nailed him in the back of the head.

He turned. Slowly.

Three very-awake orc kids stared, wide-eyed.

“INTRUDERS!” the smallest screamed.

“YOU’LL NEVER TAKE OUR SNACKS ALIVE!”

Chaos ensued.

Pirilika tried diplomacy. Fuji took a baguette to the face.

“Sausage whip. Seriously?” he muttered.

Pirilika finally patted the kids into a truce—with the promise of pudding.

“…You brought pudding?” they asked.

“No. But misbehave again, and Fuji will throw you.”

The smallest beamed. “Can we do that after pudding?”

---

Wahei – Hogano Ridge – 1 Hour Later

The mayor had planned a “simple and dignified ceremony.”

What followed was carnage.

Cheese confetti. Fruit instruments. The three orc kids reenacting their battle from atop a vendor’s stall.

Fuji caught a custard grenade mid-air.

“You’re writing the report to the United Netherworlds, Piriko,” he muttered.

“Why?” Pirilika asked.

“Because I refuse to explain how I was defeated by a sausage whip.”

Behind them, Pii-Chan took a celebratory pie to the face.

“WHYYYYYYYYY!?”

Fuji sighed.

As the town roared in chaos and pudding negotiations, he knew one thing for sure:

Never again.

No more pastry missions.

Not even croissants.

Notes:

(1) The monster unit similar to a small humanoid pig like creatures
(2) Disgaea 7 - Chapter 1

Chapter 3: Bonus Chapter - Operation Snackrifice

Notes:

The tale Fuji tells Pirilika is a mix of some japanese folklore tales

The Legend of Demonosuke: The Orc Who Became a Bushido Warrior

Told by Fuji to Pirilika after she used a look suspiciously similar to watery puppy eyes (and repeated requests).

Long ago, in a forgotten village nestled deep within the misty hills of Hinomoto, there lived a clever young orc named Demonosuke. Legend whispered he carried the spirit of a fallen warrior in his snout… and the bottomless appetite of a hundred starving farmers in his belly.

One fateful autumn day, a powerful King of Thieves descended upon the trembling village. He demanded their entire harvest—and sinisterly threatened to steal their children away. The villagers, utterly paralyzed by terror, dared not resist.

But then, to their astonishment, Demonosuke stepped forward—his little trotters planted firmly, his eyes burning with fierce determination.

“If no one else will fight,” he oinked defiantly, “then give me armor… and point me at the enemy.”

Amused—and more than a little desperate—the village blacksmith forged him a ridiculous tiny set of samurai armor. His helmet was a dented iron tea kettle. His sword? A sharpened roofing nail tied desperately to a bamboo stick.

And with that, the tiny orc-samurai trotted resolutely into the foreboding hills alone.

Three anxious days passed.

On the third misty morning, the villagers finally dared to venture out—and the sight left them utterly speechless.

The bandit hideout lay completely smashed, utterly flattened, and was now entirely carpeted in a sea of hoofprints. There was no sign whatsoever of the fearsome thief king.

As for Demonosuke?

They discovered him unconscious deep in the pantry, surrounded by empty rice barrels, snoring softly and drooling peacefully on a sack of soybeans.

From that day forward, he was revered as Demonosuke the Orc-Samurai—a beloved legend among both foolish dreamers and seasoned fighters alike.

His timeless motto?

“A sharp hoof and a full stomach win every war.”

---

Executive Summary for United Netherworlds Council

Filed by:

Pirilika, Nethertime Support Force Commander

Mission Outcome:

Successful resolution of food theft and recovery of missing civilians in Wahei’s Hogano Ridge.

Positive local impact. Incident triggered revival of Hinomotonian folklore in defense initiative.

Recommend classifying as a case study in “Low-Level Risk / High Social Yield Conflict Resolution.”

---

Nethertime Support Force Deployment Log – Wahei

Filed by:

Pirilika

Mission Title:

Operation Snackrifice

Location:

Hogano Ridge

Mission Type:

Field Support / Missing Persons / Pastry-Based Skirmish

Mission Objective:

Investigate reported theft of food supplies from Hogano Ridge.

Upon arrival, received an additional request from the mayor and local guardians to locate three missing orc children.

Findings:

Food theft confirmed.

Three missing orcs voluntarily became vigilante snack bandits.

Hideout located via trail of half-eaten pineapple pastries. (Note: not covered in current Nethertime protocol.)

Bandits already subdued—by the orcs—using unorthodox, food-enhanced chaos tactics.

Orc children found asleep in hideout, in makeshift armor (flour sack cape, tray pauldrons, pot helmets).

Not hostile until Fuji was struck with a banana cream tart.

Mission Complications:

Fuji struck by four pastry-based projectiles:

• 1x pineapple tart (direct hit)
• 1x banana cream tart (back of head)
• 1x croissant (face)
• 1x unconfirmed banana-based smear on hakama

Ceremonial return devolved into:

• Cheese confetti storm
• Baguette fencing
• Improvised cupcake catapults
• Pudding tribute demands
• Pii-Chan took a raspberry pie to the face. Emotional damage ongoing.

Conclusion:

Children returned safely.

Village declared us heroes.

Fuji forcibly decorated with glitter sash and honorary fruit bowl helmet.

Morale high. Sugar levels critical. Town extremely sticky.

Hinomoto cultural influence confirmed: Children referenced Demonosuke the Orc-Samurai.

Local mayor now drafting “Snack Defense Guidelines” pamphlet with illustrations. Copies forthcoming.

Recommend light educational programming support to prevent further pastry-based uprisings.

Draft of Nethertime protocol “Snackrifice” suggested.

Final Note:

Fuji caught a custard grenade mid-air without flinching.

Unless a formal complaint is filed, I am adding “Pudding Catcher Extraordinaire” to his next Nethertime performance review.

PS:

He is aware of this.

He is not pleased.

I fear for the registry.

Chapter 4: The Phantom of the Reading Lamp

Wahei – In the Past

She was just about to step out of the house when she heard her little brother Gatling’s voice behind her.

“Leaving already, sis? You just got back from your last mission for the United Netherworlds… I thought we’d have more time together…”

At those words, she turned and motioned for Gatling to come closer.

“Unfortunately, duty calls… You know how much it meant to our father that our family remained an important part of the United Netherworlds.”

Gatling huffed. What his sister said was true, but aside from the posthumous honors, it didn’t seem like the United Netherworlds had made much effort to truly honor their father’s memory—especially when that critical mission had only succeeded because of his sacrifice.

He couldn’t hold back. “And what did he get for it? Just a coffin and our mother shattered to pieces. What if the same thing happens to you?”

“Don’t say that… You know how deeply our parents loved each other. That’s why we supported her when she was falling apart, remember?”

Gatling didn’t respond.

Ever since she had taken their father’s place in the United Netherworlds, her duties kept her away from her little brother more than she liked. Their mother had been busy managing the family estate ever since becoming a widow.

And the results of that absence were right in front of her.

Her little brother—a nekomata like her, though his hair was black instead of blonde—had inherited not only their father’s feline ears but, due to a rare genetic mutation, also their mother’s cleric ears. (1) It made him stand out. Lately, it had made him a target for ridicule. And he didn’t know how to defend himself. She hadn’t had the time to teach him.

And so, little Gatling had grown weak and pessimistic.

Still, duty called.

After giving him a final hug, she turned and left, closing the door behind her—unaware that today, she was about to meet someone who would change her life forever...

---

Wahei – Present Day

Pii-Chan woke up, startled.

The shock of getting a pie to the face yesterday must have been serious enough to stir up memories long buried. It was hard to recall the last time thoughts like that had surfaced—and honestly, there hadn’t seemed much point in dwelling on the past. What couldn’t be changed was better left forgotten… right?

Maybe a distraction would help.

Checking on Fuji, for instance. Ever since they’d gotten back to the Nethership, things had been… unnervingly quiet.

Which was never a good sign.

What if…?

No, it couldn’t be.

But what if Fuji had actually committed harakiri over the shame of being hit by food—thrown with terrifying precision—by three pint-sized orcs?

Who would break the news to Miss Pirilika? Or worse, to Ao?

Quietly, Pii-Chan pushed open the door to Fuji’s room—and immediately froze.

The scene was the stuff of nightmares.

Fuji was slumped motionless at his desk, back turned to the door. His head rested limply on the surface, eyes closed. And worse—drops of blood were dripping onto the floor.

“He really did it! Why, Fuji?! My contract as Miss Pirilika’s personal secretary doesn’t cover funeral arrangements!” Pii-Chan wailed, placing both flippers over the head.

Hesitantly approaching, Pii-Chan prepared for the worst.

Maybe there’d be a will? A note? Anything?

But then, with a whoosh of relief, Pii-Chan saw Fuji’s chest rise and fall. He was still breathing.

Summoning what little courage remained, Pii-Chan stepped closer—and finally got a clear view of the scene.

Apparently, Fuji had spent the whole night reading the book Pii-Chan had given him. At some point, he must’ve nodded off… right into the desk lamp. Now, there was a smear of blood on the lamp’s edge, and a shallow cut on Fuji’s forehead.

Small wound.

Big mess.

Pii-Chan let out a long, exhausted sigh.

“Okay… okay. No panic. Totally explainable. Head trauma via reading lamp. Blood everywhere. Definitely not ritual suicide from pastry shame.”

Shuffling over to Fuji’s desk, Pii-Chan grabbed a cloth and started wiping the trail of dramatic blood drips.

“And of course it had to happen today,” Pii-Chan muttered. “When Miss Pirilika’s coming to announce the next mission. And she definitely won’t misinterpret any of this. Nope. Definitely not.”

A soft chime echoed from the Nethership’s comm console, signaling that outer dock clearance had been granted.

Pii-Chan froze. “Oh no. She’s already here.”

---

A Few Minutes Later – Outside Fuji’s Room

Pirilika arrived with her usual boundless energy and a neatly rolled mission scroll tucked under one arm.

Her footsteps echoed cheerfully on the deck floor.

“Pii-Chan? Fuji?” she called. “Are you up?”

No answer.

She tilted her head. “Fuji? Pii-Chan?”

Still nothing.

She turned a corner, and a gust of wind rose from an open window.

CREEEAAAK.

The door to Fuji’s room opened with a painful groan.

And out stumbled a blood-smeared, pale-faced demon with half-lidded, bleary eyes… groaning, clutching his forehead, and mumbling something unintelligible.

“F-F-FUJI?!” Pirilika cried out in terror.

Fuji blinked. His hair was a wreck, a bandage was clumsily slapped over his temple, and his hakama was stained.

“Ugh… my head…” he grumbled.

Pirilika gasped, hands flying to her mouth. “Y-You’re… a ghost?!”

Fuji blinked again. “…What?”

Pirilika whipped the mission scroll up in front of her like a talisman.

“STAY BACK! I—I’M ARMED WITH OFFICIAL PAPERWORK!”

Fuji stared at the scroll, unimpressed.

Before Fuji could respond, Pii-Chan burst into view, flailing.

“WAIT, WAIT, MISS PIRILIKA! IT’S NOT BLOOD, IT’S KETCHUP—DON’T CALL A SPIRIT MEDIUM—!”

Pirilika backed into a cabinet, still trembling.

“You DIED and your GHOST is LEAKING CONDIMENTS!!”

Fuji squinted.

“…What kind of ghost,” he drawled, “leaks ketchup, Pirsillyka?”

Pii-Chan faceplanted.

And in that moment—amid Fuji’s grumbling and Pirilika’s overdramatic ghost theories—Pii-Chan stood frozen.

Something in the whole scene—Fuji’s confusion, Miss Pirilika’s panic, the sheer absurdity of it—stirred something deep inside. A memory stitched into a heart that wasn’t supposed to feel anymore.

A memory of someone else who also made a wonderful mess of everything.

For a moment, Pii-Chan just stood there, silent, something bittersweet swelling in the chest, before muttering: “…You two really are trouble.”

Then added louder: “I’m cleaning none of this up.”

Notes:

(1) The Cleric is also known as the Female Healer.
Opener and Pii-Chan's family is a personal speculation

Chapter 5: The Birth of The Operation Heartify

Wahei – The Next Day – One of the Main Shopping Centers

“I don’t know how to thank you for coming with me, Pii-Chan. And the fact you stayed behind on the Nethership to keep Fuji company without him suspecting a thing? That’s a miracle in itself! Knowing him, he’d have cut us both in half if he’d found out,” Pirilika said cheerfully.

“It is my duty as your personal secretary, Miss Pirilika,” Pii-Chan replied. “Furthermore, with Fuji remaining aboard the Nethership rather than lodging at your residence, your secret plan remains precisely that—secret. Speaking of which… how is it progressing?”

“It’s turning out to be more complicated than I expected, but I’m not giving up. I think I can get everything ready within two months at most,” Pirilika answered.

"Understood," Pii-Chan replied.

Pirilika clasped her hands together, then gasped as she spotted the display.

“Here we are! Let’s go in, Pii-Chan!” she said a moment later, her eyes sparkling as she gazed at the window display of a luxury home goods store.

“Are you sure about this, Miss Pirilika? Fuji might not accept it,” Pii-Chan cautioned.

“I’m positive he’ll like it. Besides, yesterday, between his head and the lamp, I’d say the lamp came out worse, wouldn’t you?” Pirilika giggled. “And his room is sooo plain, there’s no harm in adding a touch of color. Time to launch Operation Heartify Fuji’s Room!”

Which, Pii-Chan thought grimly, sounded less like interior design and more like a declaration of war.

And so, Pirilika and Pii-Chan entered the shop.

Every step inside seemed to whisper promises of “fun.” Pii-Chan considered resignedly that in Miss Pirilika’s hands, “fun” usually translated into a delicate brand of mayhem... and a mountain of paperwork afterward.

---

Wahei – Nethership – Fuji’s Room, Afternoon

That was how, later that day, when she visited Fuji on the Nethership, Pirilika arrived carrying a sentient decorative demonic lantern that blinked whenever someone walked past.

“What is that, Piriko?” Fuji growled, wincing after the lantern flashed him as though he were an intruder in his own room.

“A reading lamp,” Pirilika said proudly.

“It’s possessed,” Fuji declared after the lantern flashed at him again.

“It’s responsive,” Pirilika corrected.

“It’s evicted,” Fuji said flatly, moving it straight into a nearby storage box.

Pirilika pouted. “You didn’t even give it a chance to adjust to your aura, Fuji!”

“It tried to assassinate my retinas, Piriko.”

She folded her arms, pretending to look stern. “Fine. But if you don’t give it a fair shot, I might just bring back something even better tomorrow—and I promise, you might actually like it.”

Fuji gave her a long, wary look. “Better… or louder?”

“Both!” Pirilika beamed.

Fuji sighed, running a hand over his face. “Why do I even let you talk me into these things?”

From the doorway, Pii-Chan groaned. “I’m going to need hazard pay…”

---

Wahei – Nethership – That Night

Against his better judgment, Fuji grudgingly allowed the lantern to stay. Pirilika had argued so stubbornly that throwing it out immediately would’ve been more exhausting than tolerating it.

Predictably, the first thing it did was sear his eyes with a blinding flash the moment he dozed off. He jolted awake, half-convinced his retinas had been branded, and muttered darkly about cursed décor.

The second time it blinked, he glared murderously at it. To his surprise, the light dimmed.

By morning, Fuji had tamed the lamp and resigned himself to one truth: if he didn’t destroy it outright, Piriko would call that a victory.

And so, with a headache and a fresh grudge against demonic home goods, when Pirilika came to start the next mission, he declared he would “give it another try.”

Pirilika, of course, was delighted.

---

Wahei – The Day After – Outskirts of the City

Still grumbling from the night’s ordeal, Fuji followed Pirilika to their next mission—this time, to a suburban district of Wahei—to investigate reports of a mysterious glittery Spirit. (1)

“Hmph… Piriko’s Netherworld missions are never boring,” Fuji muttered to himself, walking, lost in thought.

And then, in the midst of his grumbling, he saw something that made him stop.

A small house, its walls partially collapsed, its insides long since looted. But what caught Fuji’s attention was its style, clearly Hinomotonian.

Without thinking, he stopped in place, staring at it.

“When I was little, that house was practically a local attraction,” Pirilika said softly, gently touching Fuji’s arm to guide his gaze toward the rooftop.

Fuji didn’t flinch, though he almost expected to. The Empathy Killer curse was gone, he told himself. Nothing more.

“They used to call it the House of Dreams, mostly because of all the Hinomotonian dream and good-luck charms that were strung up near the eaves,” Pirilika continued.

She paused for a breath. “It belonged to a widow from Hinomoto. She stayed here in Wahei even after her husband passed. They didn’t have children or any close relatives, so when she died, no one stepped forward.”

Fuji frowned, his eyes lingering on the ruined home.

Maybe it really was true. No matter how much you give, how many sacrifices you make… in the end, it all crumbles into nothing. All it takes is time, or neglect. Or both.

His mind drifted—quietly, against his will—to the night before he and Piriko left for Wahei.

Since the Empathy Killer Curse was lifted, he’d found the courage to sneak away to Gero Haunt Springs. He wanted to see what remained of his mother Fuyo’s old inn, sold off in haste by his deadbeat father after her tragic death, claiming he had no time to run it or even pass it on to someone who could.

Now the inn stood hollow. Sagging with rot and failure, it looked more like a ghost than a home. Weeds grew in the cracks where customers once stood. The back annex—the small room where he’d grown up—was still standing, in a way.

But he hadn’t gone to see it. He couldn’t.

And standing there, with no Empathy Killer curse to numb the ache anymore, the weight of memory had almost sent him walking straight back into the dark.

If this is what effort—or care—becomes… then what’s the point?

If he had stayed cursed, that thought would have been only a shadow. Now, nothing stood between him and the ache—except choice. But for all the ache it brought, he couldn’t bring himself to wish for the numbness back.

His gaze shifted from the House of Dreams to the image of his mother’s inn—empty, overgrown, the small room where he’d grown up now just a ghost in his mind.

Was that what he feared? That if he let himself care again—with all his heart—about places, about people who weren’t his beloved daughter Ao… it would all still disappear in the end?

He scowled—at the thought, at himself, maybe both. Yet walking beside Piriko now, he realized he had already broken that rule without meaning to.

“Fuji?” Pirilika’s voice was gentle, concern softening the air between them.

Fuji shook off the haze, forcing himself back to the present.

“Let’s go, Piriko. The mission’s waiting.”

Notes:

(1) The monster class in Disgaea: Hour of Darkness

Chapter 6: A Glittered Surprise

Wahei – Suburbs

The suburbs of Wahei didn’t get many tourists, unless you counted tax collectors, stray Prinnies, and one very confused delivery guy still trying to find “that one place” using his DEMON-GPS.

“Okay!” Pirilika hopped over a cracked paving stone, landing with a flourish. “Mission parameters: track down the mysterious glittery Spirit, document it, make friends with it if possible, and avoid mortal peril unless it’s funny!” she declared, as Fuji trudged along behind her.

“Do you realize this mission makes absolutely no sense, Piriko? What interest could the United Netherworlds possibly have in befriending… a pile of glitter?”

“I’d befriend it too, Fuji! Who wouldn’t be cheered up by something that sparkly?” Pirilika replied without hesitation.

Fuji grunted, scanning the boarded-up houses and breathing in the faint scent of dust and old wood.

“Hey, check it out!” Pirilika pointed down the street. A faint shimmer floated in midair, like a trail of glitter, except it shifted and pulsed as though breathing.

Fuji’s brows drew together. “That’s not glitter.”

“Excellent deduction, Mister Detective Fuji. Glitter doesn’t breathe,” she said, already heading toward it.

The shimmer darted away, scattering a few sparkling motes in the air.

“It’s playing tag!” she gasped.

“It’s luring us,” Fuji muttered.

“Good thing I brought my big scary bodyguard, then,” she said cheerfully, without slowing.

Fuji clicked his tongue. “That’s not a thing.”

They followed the trail through narrow alleyways, the buildings pressing close like nosy spectators.

Every so often, Fuji caught himself glancing at her—at the way she never hesitated to chase strange light, like she really believed danger barely existed as long as he was nearby.

And then, without thinking, he noticed a loose roof tile teetering above her path. His hand shot out, faster than his brain caught up, almost grabbing her arm before he stopped himself.

“Something wrong, Fuji?” Pirilika asked, turning just in time to see his hand frozen in midair.

“…No. Just killed an annoying mosquito,” Fuji said flatly, retracting it like nothing had happened.

“You’re the perfect bodyguard. I’ll have to add ‘Protector from Bug Bites’ to your skill list,” she said, in a tone Fuji couldn’t quite decipher as serious or teasing.

The Spirit finally stopped in an open courtyard. Its form flickered into view, and Fuji and Pirilika could see that it had a cape like molten silver and eyes like tiny galaxies.

Pirilika stepped forward, waving, and began speaking to it in fluent Waheiese.

Fuji strained to follow the conversation, his late-night language study flashing through his mind, right up until it was derailed by the faint memory of smashing his head against his reading lamp when he’d fallen asleep over the textbook.

The Spirit’s expression suddenly shifted into something… decidedly not safe for polite company.

Heart-shaped sparkles popped into the air around it. A soft, dramatic glow lit its face like it was in a romance drama.

Even more puzzling, Pirilika glanced over her shoulder at Fuji for a second… then turned back and shook her head at the Spirit. Like she had, for a moment, considered asking for his help before deciding he wouldn’t have intervened.

Fuji’s brow twitched. He had caught only fragments of the Waheiese, but those fragments — arms, warmth, all — were more than enough to irritate him.

Don’t tell me… it wants to do what I think it does?

“…What did it just say to you, Piriko?” he asked, voice flat as stone.

“Nothing that concerns you, Fuji,” Pirilika replied just a bit too quickly.

The Spirit half-lidded its eyes, clasped its hands, and let out a sigh that sounded suspiciously like “Aaaaah~.”

Fuji’s eye twitched. “All we’re missing now is a cheesy background music.”

“I’m putting a stop to this right now,” he cut in, stepping forward like a demon about to evict a trespassing succubus.

“Fuji, wait—!” Pirilika started.

Too late. Fuji drew his Demonic Sword Kanzan Musashi and charged—only for the Spirit to dodge the slash with a glittery spin and hurl itself toward him in slow motion, cartoon roses blooming in the background.

It landed in his arms with a blissful squeal, snuggling into his chest like it had just found the Netherworld’s warmest kotatsu.

Fuji froze, horrified. “You’ve got to be kidding me—” His sword slipped from his grasp, clattering against the stones.

“Looks like she got exactly what she wanted. Free snuggles!” Pirilika announced brightly, camera already clicking.

Fuji’s jaw clenched, but with the Spirit still glued to him like a barnacle, he couldn’t even move to confiscate the camera.

“She said a young lady like her wouldn’t mind being in your arms to soak up some warmth all for herself. I did try to tell her you wouldn’t agree, but… you cut me off,” Pirilika added.

“You’re telling me… this melodramatic octopus disco ball is a she?” Fuji growled.

“Of course! She told me right away,” Pirilika said, far too casually for Fuji’s liking. “I thought you’d figure it out. But I guess not, Mister Detective Fuji.”

Click!

Another photo captured his glitter-coated misery.

“Piriko! Enough already with those damn photos. Or I swear, the moment I get free, I’ll cut you down.”

The Spirit only wriggled closer against his chest, her cape beginning to shimmer unnaturally.

And then —

Fwump!

Fuji was suddenly coated head to toe in sticky glitter. The Spirit’s cape shimmered once… then turned the unmistakable green of that monster type.

“Oh no. It was all a trick?” Pirilika pouted, hands on hips. She rattled off a question in Waheiese, and her cheerful face promptly dropped into a glare.

Still blissfully curled against Fuji’s chest, the Spirit let out a contented sigh.

Pirilika’s Demonic Bow Zenryo Yoichi twanged.

Bonk!

The Spirit toppled sideways, unconscious, a tiny trail of glitter poofing into the air where she fell.

“Fuji, tie her up and send her to the United Netherworlds for arrest,” Pirilika said, already dusting off her hands. “She’s been using adhesive glitter to hunt for a husband, tricking him into thinking she was different from the other Spirits… I feel personally scammed.”

Fuji stood there, sticky with glitter and completely caught off guard, blinking in stunned silence.

“So… I just got surprise-attacked and hugged by a fake sparkling octopus?” he muttered, peeling spark gunk off his face.

Pirilika crossed her arms, smirking. “Exactly. And I have photographic evidence.”

Fuji let out a long, defeated sigh. “You’re enjoying this way too much, Piriko.”

“That's not true. I’m enjoying it exactly the right amount, Fuji~,” Pirilika said, adding a mischievous wink as she giggled.

Chapter 7: Echoes Through the Greenery

Wahei – In the Past

She had chosen a little-used path through the greenery, both to reach the United Netherworlds early and to spend a little time alone with her thoughts.

The leaves rustled softly in the breeze, sunlight filtering through the branches in shifting patterns of gold and green. It was the kind of place that invited quiet reflection, the sort of solitude that soothed a restless mind.

While watching a bird flit between branches, her foot caught on something solid. She pitched forward, arms flailing, and landed with a muted thud. Dirt and leaves clung to her hands and knees as she pushed herself upright, muttering under her breath.

And then she saw him.

An angel of Celestia with short black hair lay in the grass, apparently napping until her fall sent her sprawling on top of him.

“I’m sorry! Did I hurt you?” she asked, brushing herself off and glancing anxiously at him.

The angel didn’t answer. His calm, unblinking gaze carried the weight of a thousand calculations, as if dissecting every possible outcome before choosing a word.

“Yu-hooo! Wahei calling Celestia,” she said, waving a hand in front of his face in a vain attempt to elicit a reaction.

She began to worry she might have given him a concussion, when a third voice—solemn yet gentle—rose behind her.

“Archangel Kaelzel, it’s not polite to ignore such a kind soul.”

She turned. There stood Seraph Lamington, faint amusement playing across his expression as he observed the awkward scene.

“But besides a name, does he also have the ability to speak?” she asked, tilting her head slightly in curiosity.

Lamington laughed warmly. “My personal apprentice, nicknamed ‘The Silent Strategist,’ speaks little, but always with intention. And what is your name, young lady?”

She opened her mouth to answer, when—

Pii-pii!

The sound cut through the air like a tiny bell. A bird hopped down from a branch above, tilting its head.

Kaelzel’s brow twitched almost imperceptibly.

“Could you repeat that, please?” asked Seraph Lamington.

She opened her mouth again, but realized that “being early” was quickly turning into “running late.”

“I’m sorry, I have to go,” she said, and began to run—unaware that having two angels present, one the highest authority in Celestia, was far from ordinary, even for a demon-friendly Netherworld like Wahei.

She reached the Wahei headquarters of the United Netherworlds and—

---

Present Day

“Pii-Chan, heeelp!”

Pirilika’s cry for help yanked Pii-Chan out of the stream of old memories, stirred by the past few days.

With a soft sigh, Pii-Chan moved toward the sound—only for Pirilika to appear suddenly and lock the room door behind her.

“This time Fuji is really mad, though I don’t understand why,” Pirilika said, pacing with exasperation bubbling in her tone.

“Hmph! You don’t understand why? You sent that photo to Ao, Pirsillyka!” came Fuji’s irritated voice from the other side, each word carrying a faint growl.

“And it’s not like she made a tragedy of it like you, Fuji,” Pirilika replied, rolling her eyes. “Ao simply wrote back that Spirit looked way too glittery to be a potential mom…”

From beyond the door, Fuji muttered curses under his breath, every syllable dripping with wounded pride.

Pii-Chan could easily imagine Fuji’s scowling eyes glinting with frustration.

“That blasted octopus demon… hugging me… in my own arms… How could I let that happen?! And that damn photo Piriko took… Ao will never let me live this down…”

Pii-Chan, with a small, resigned sigh, secretly wondered how anyone could sound so melodramatic without even trying.

As Pii-Chan lingered by the locked door, Fuji’s grumbling faded, leaving Pirilika space to vent.

Even as the laughter thinned, the memory of that quiet path through the greenery—the speckled sunlight, the stumble, the silent angel resting in the grass—remained. Encounters were fragile, each moment folding into the next.

Watching Pirilika flounce while Fuji simmered outside, Pii-Chan thought of how patterns always returned. Not the same, yet familiar in spirit.

One stumble in the woods, and somehow it led here. Life’s design was strange.

Outside, Fuji still muttered, and Pirilika’s laughter chimed in reply.

Then silence fell, followed by footsteps retreating down the hall.

“Finally, Fuji’s calmed down… I honestly feared for my life,” Pirilika sighed, moving toward the door.

“Miss Pirilika, wait! It could be a trap!” Pii-Chan warned.

Too late. Fuji’s fist came down on top of Pirilika’s head in a flawless head-knuckle.

“Eeek! That hurt, Fuji!” Pirilika squealed.

“Fuji, calm your boiling spirit. Regulation 999 states that—” Pii-Chan stopped short at the sight of Fuji covered in glitter, sparkling like a full-blown disco ball.

“Interesting change of look, Fuji,” Pii-Chan remarked. “Usually such drastic changes are a sign of distress. Is there a problem?”

Fuji’s glare could have peeled paint.

“The problem, beakface,” he growled, “is that glitter sticks longer than grudges.”

Pirilika snorted, then burst out laughing. “Fuji, that’s merch material! I’d print that on a Tempoora T-shirt tomorrow—limited edition, glitter ink! Make it your official motto!”

“I’ll make you my official target,” he muttered, brushing at his hakama in vain.

Pii-Chan massaged the top of the beak. It was common knowledge glitter was more of a curse than any Netherworld hex. Still, there could be worse fates than being stuck with those two.

Fuji stomped away, leaving a faint, sparkling trail like some grumpy fairy godfather—one that would need a vacuum and several exorcisms to remove.

“See?” Pirilika grinned. “He’s spreading joy wherever he goes!”

Pii-Chan sighed. “More like dust. Expensive, clingy dust.”

Still, as Fuji’s sparkling footsteps faded down the hall, Pii-Chan thought back to the path of dappled sunlight.

Some encounters left light, others left dust. Either way, they stuck.

Chapter 8: Operation Heartify: Phase Two

Wahei – One Week Later – Same Shopping Mall

“Miss Pirilika, are you certain you wish to collect the second purchase you made along with the reading lamp you already gifted to Fuji?” Pii-Chan asked, tone perfectly polite but edged with a hint of apprehension.

Pirilika nodded confidently.

“The reading lamp was one thing… this new item may provoke a far less forgiving reaction from Fuji, especially since he is the unsuspecting target of "Operation Heartify Fuji's Room",” Pii-Chan added.

“I am absolutely certain, Pii-Chan. I gave detailed instructions so it would fit Fuji’s head exactly. If he sleeps better, he should be less irritable than usual, right? And maybe he’ll start eating more… I know he’s lost some weight,” Pirilika said with quiet conviction.

Pii-Chan raised an eyebrow. Usually, Miss Pirilika’s observations were more… dramatic, thanks to her Super Positivity. But this quiet resolve was unmistakable.

“Lost weight? Are you sure, Miss Pirilika?” Pii-Chan asked cautiously.

“Yes. I don’t have a good excuse to measure him right now, but his shoulders are slightly narrower,” Pirilika said, tapping her chin with one finger as if inspecting an invisible blueprint of Fuji’s posture.

The conversation ended as they reached the same store as last time.

The shop owner’s polite bow and smile struck Pii-Chan as almost comical—likely tied to how much Miss Pirilika planned to spend on a special feature...

---

Nethership – That Afternoon

And so, Pirilika presented Fuji with a red-and-black pillow featuring neat cut-outs perfectly positioned for his dragon horns.

Fuji froze. His gaze narrowed. The pillow looked… normal. Too normal. And with Piriko, “normal” usually meant trouble.

“I have this new gift for you, Fuji,” Pirilika said, all innocence. “This time, no flashing lights, no demonic eye strain. Just comfort.”

Fuji crossed his arms. “…What’s the catch, Piriko?”

“If you can use this pillow for two whole weeks without breaking it, I’ll let you pick the next mission we take, Fuji,” Pirilika said sweetly.

Fuji paused. “…Any mission?”

“Any mission,” she confirmed, nodding with a radiant smile.

A flicker of deep, instinctual fear crossed Fuji's face. He remembered too well how Piriko’s ‘deals’ usually ended—with towers of fluffy, fluffy fluffcakes shoved into his hands, or with her bursting into song and dragging him into an impromptu dance. His shoulders tensed, bracing for the inevitable.

“…Fine,” Fuji muttered, taking the pillow as if it were a live explosive, testing its weight and texture as though expecting it to detonate under scrutiny.

“Miss Pirilika, I am officially requesting hazard pay,” Pii-Chan groaned from the doorway, already imagining the disastrous chain of events that could unfold. The opening act of Operation Heartify had already ended with Fuji muttering darkly about “luminous sabotage”—before finally agreeing with Miss Pirilika to give the reading lamp another try. (1)

This promised to be far, far worse.

---

That Night

That night, Fuji lay down, carefully placing his horns into the pillow’s cut-outs.

To his surprise, it was comfortable... almost too comfortable. For a moment, he allowed himself the rare thought that perhaps it was acceptable.

Then soft music began to play.

He shot upright—and the music stopped.

“Hmph. Must’ve been my imagination,” he muttered.

He lay down again. The music resumed, louder this time. Fuji froze. That was definitely Hinomoto 'n' Rock…

…and the voice was unmistakably Piriko’s. (2)

“…This isn’t just some random song,” he said grimly. “This is way too on-the-nose…”

His eye twitched. He launched the pillow at the wall, but it bounced perfectly back onto the bed, as if mocking him.

“…Tch. Figures she’d think of that,” he snorted.

Scowling, he flipped the pillow over, pressed his face down into it—the music grew even louder, reverberating through the bed frame like an insistent drum.

“…!” Fuji sat up, glaring at it as though it were a living enemy.

“To hell with the mission’s choice!” Fuji snarled.

Drawing Kanzan Musashi, he sliced the seam and pulled out a tiny music box. His hand hovered, ready to smash it—then it stilled.

Maybe he was overthinking it… but the song was one of his favourites. The melody, despite everything, was oddly... calming. And infuriatingly well-chosen. Could this be Piriko’s clumsy way of making him feel closer to the Hinomoto Netherworld?

His chest tightened slightly at the thought—and he didn’t like it. Then, he frowned, shook his head, and shoved the box into a drawer, muttering, “I’ll deal with you later.”

He never did.

The next morning, Fuji woke up without dark circles for the first time in weeks. He hated to admit it… but the pillow worked, even without the music box.

---

The Next Morning

Outside his room, Pirilika’s voice rang out.

“Good morning, Fuji! Next mission: Breakfast in the Swamp!”

Fuji halted mid-step. “…I shouldn’t have broken the pillow.”

Pirilika didn’t comment on Fuji’s last remark. Instead, she simply pointed to a picnic basket overflowing with lace, ribbons, and delicate frills.

“Destination: Usakai Swamp! While we have breakfast there, I’ll fill you in on the details of our next mission,” Pirilika said cheerfully.

Fuji blinked, then stared again at the basket. “Piriko… are you seriously telling me we’re going to eat in a swamp… like that?”

“Absolutely! There’s a trio of Sludge that attacks tourists in the nature reserve on the other side of the marsh to steal their food, and so far they haven’t been caught because they can escape into the swamp,” Pirilika explained. “So instead of wasting food to lure them, we get to eat it ourselves! Isn’t that a brilliant idea?”

Fuji let out a long, exasperated sigh, already picturing lace doilies sagging under damp mist, the smell of stagnant water mixing with breakfast pastries. Swamp insects made a beeline for his tea, and somewhere in the mental image, the Sludge creatures were clapping.

He cast another glance at the basket.

Lately, every mission with Piriko had been… chaos. Why did he have the sinking feeling this one was about to outdo them all?

“I sincerely hope none of the Sludge are lactose intolerant,” Pii-Chan muttered.

"That's what you're worried about, beakface?" Fuji grumbled.

Pirilika just grinned, utterly undeterred. “Breakfast in a swamp! Adventure guaranteed!”

Notes:

(1) Chapter 5 of this story
(2) Hinomoto 'n' Rock is performed by Pirilika’s Japanese voice actress

Chapter 9: A Jamerrific Day

Usakai Swamp – Morning

The Usakai Swamp greeted them like an overly damp welcome mat—mud tugging at their feet, reeds whipping at ankles, and the occasional suspicious splash hinting at something unseen lurking beneath the water.

Pirilika marched ahead, parasol and sunglasses perfectly shielding her from every drop of mist, her footsteps suspiciously clean despite the squelchy sludge. The picnic basket swung in her other hand like they were strolling through a manicured garden rather than ankle-deep swamp chaos.

Fuji trailed behind, expression caught between resignation and disbelief. “This is what you call breakfast ambiance, Piriko?”

“It’s adventurous ambiance,” Pirilika corrected brightly. “Don’t you feel the mystery in the air, Fuji?”

Fuji waved a hand at the swamp. “I feel fungus spores. And the smell of… regret.”

Pirilika hummed cheerfully, laying out the blanket atop a slightly tilted moss mound. A mosquito dove at her parasol. She barely flinched. “Ah, the excitement! Nature in its purest form!”

Each step Fuji took sank him deeper, his hakama collecting sticky greenery like unwanted souvenirs. He swatted another mosquito with the intensity of a demon negotiating peace treaties. “This is nothing like a mission,” he muttered. “This is a slow, slimy death march.”

“Now, breakfast time, Fuji! Then we strategize about The Rare Jams Bros.,” Pirilika announced, pulling out neatly wrapped sandwiches and miniature pastries. Mud splashed harmlessly over her shoes as if bowing to her indomitable spirit.

“No white rice?” Fuji asked, cautiously lowering himself onto the blanket, one wary eye on the swamp waters, the other on a particularly suspicious frog perched on a reed.

“No, only a typical Waheiese breakfast today,” Pirilika said cheerfully, slicing into pastries with surgical precision. “Adventure comes in many flavors, Fuji!”

Fuji sighed. Somewhere, a mosquito let out a victorious buzz, mocking him.

They hadn’t waited long. Near the swamp’s edge, a trio of Sludges lurked, each a wobbling mass of color: bright red, sunny yellow, and vivid green. They hopped forward in unison, leaving small splashes in the mud.

Fuji froze, sandwich halfway to his mouth. “Are those… overgrown, living jams our target?” he muttered, narrowing his eyes. “Of course they are. Why would they be normal?”

Pirilika’s eyes sparkled. “Yes! The Rare Jams Bros! Today’s mission, Fuji, is to catch them before they escape with our food!” She laid out pastries with precision, parasol shielding her from the swamp’s occasional spray.

The Red Blob (1) wobbled menacingly. “Raspberry Rascal reporting for sticky duty!” it squeaked, flinging a tiny glob toward the blanket.

“Mango Mellow here!” chimed the Ochre Jelly. (2)

“Kiwi Knave, at your tart service,” added the Green Slime, (3) vanishing briefly behind a reed before reappearing with a mischievous squelch.

Fuji swiped the red splat from his chest, muttering, “Overgrown jams… alive… and apparently sentient. Perfect. Absolutely perfect.”

Pirilika clapped her hands. “Breakfast in a swamp and the mission already begins! Fun guaranteed!”

Fuji’s glare could have withered flowers. “Fun… or a colorful death trap. I haven’t decided yet.”

Before he could regain composure, Mango Mellow — the Ochre Jelly — bounced atop a mossy mound, sending a miniature cascade of golden goo toward Pirilika’s basket.

“Don’t worry, Fuji! I’ve anticipated their tactical trajectory!” Pirilika declared, searching in her pink backpack.

The Green Slime, Kiwi Knave, surged from the reeds like a tiny green missile. It collided with the red and yellow Sludges mid-air, sending all three spinning in a gooey dance that ended with a splat on the moss.

“Hey Trio! Come and get me!” Pirilika cheered in Waheiese, as if conducting an orchestra of chaos.

Fuji crouched low, scanning the trio. “Alright… red, yellow, green. Predictable pattern. Maybe if I—”

“Fuji! Wait!” Pirilika interrupted, twirling her parasol like a baton. “Observe the dance of the Jams!”

Raspberry Rascal bounced toward him, its sticky body leaving tiny red footprints on his shoes. Fuji sidestepped, narrowly avoiding a collision, then grabbed a moss-covered branch.

“Branch. Sticky Sludge. Check,” he muttered. “This is a tactical nightmare.”

Mango Mellow launched itself like a miniature cannonball, splatting against Pirilika’s parasol. She giggled as the goo dripped in tiny golden rivulets. “See? I told you they’re enthusiastic!”

Kiwi Knave lunged at Fuji’s arm, but he flicked it off with precision, sending a smear of green goo across a nearby reed. “My life really is a sugar-coated battlefield.”

“Found them!” Pirilika exclaimed, pulling out three tiny, custom-sized nets from her pink backpack, and handing one to Fuji. “We must corner them in a triangular formation!” She pointed at the three sludges with one finger.

“Of course. Net traps in a swamp. Brilliant. Why did I even get out of bed?” Fuji grumbled.

The Rare Jams Bros, sensing danger, bounced in perfect synchronization. Raspberry Rascal ricocheted off a log, Mango Mellow spun midair, and Kiwi Knave performed a surprisingly acrobatic flip—all while Fuji and Pirilika tried to anticipate their moves.

“Fuji, left!” Pirilika shouted, swinging a net with dramatic flair. “I’ll take the right!”

Fuji darted, using the branch to expertly steer Raspberry Rascal into a sunken hollow in the mud, trapping it momentarily. “One contained… maybe,” he muttered.

Mango Mellow tried to escape, but Pirilika swooped in with her net, twirling like a circus performer. “Gotcha!”

Kiwi Knave leapt like a green comet—only to land squarely in the net Fuji was just holding, not even raising. It wobbled there, stuck.

“Hmph. I caught dessert by standing still,” Fuji said.

Pirilika clapped delightedly. “And thus, the Rare Jams Bros are contained! Mission accomplished!”

Fuji rubbed his shoulder, already coated in a mix of red, yellow, and green goo. “Sure. Let’s just pray I don’t get arrested for assault with a delicious weapon when I turn these in to the United Netherworlds…”

Pirilika giggled, snapping an imaginary victory photo. “Oh, Fuji! You make such a heroic yet relatable protagonist! Truly, your struggle against the Jams is legendary.”

Fuji muttered under his breath, glancing wearily at the three captured sludges. “Next time, we’re taking dessert elsewhere… and no parasols.”

Pirilika, already marching back to the Nethership with her basket swinging, called back cheerfully, “Oh, nonsense! The swamp gave breakfast character!”

Fuji groaned, holding up his net with the three wriggling Jams dripping onto his arm.

“Breakfast with character… laundry with trauma.”

Notes:

(1) Rank 2 Sludge
(2) Rank 4 Sludge
(3) Rank 1 Sludge

Chapter 10: Quiet Resolve

Wahei – Nethership – Late Evening

Pii-Chan no longer tried to chase away the memories. The quiet of the late evening, punctuated only by the hum of the Nethership, allowed the thread of recollection to pick up where it had been interrupted...

---

Wahei – In the past – After the fateful meeting

“You’re late, which is unlike you. I hope it’s not an ill omen for the mission,” her superior said, tone clipped like the snap of a fan.

“I won’t disappoint you, Sir. May I know the details?” she replied, bowing deeply.

“It is a mission of utmost secrecy… Celestia will also be involved,” he announced gravely.

“Celestia? How is that possible? Angels have always remained neutral.”

“Neutrality has temporarily fallen. There have been mysterious deaths in both the Netherworld and Celestia, apparently at the same hand. Seraph Lamington has convinced one of his personal apprentices to support our investigation. You have been chosen as the one who will collaborate with him. Meet him in the common hall.”

“Understood.”

She approached the appointed place, opened the door, and—as she had suspected—there stood Archangel Kaelzel.

“We meet again… Pii-Chan,” Kaelzel said.

“Pii-Chan? You mean me? But that’s not my real name,” she said, astonished.

“That bird seemed to think otherwise,” (1) Kaelzel replied, amused.

“So… you’ve decided to call me that from now on?”

Kaelzel only smiled.

But before she could press him further—

---

Present Day

“Hey, beakface, everything okay? Or have you discovered a new hobby of staring into the void?” Fuji’s voice snapped Pii-Chan back to the present.

Pii-Chan, after giving Fuji a long glance, simply told him that to remove all the stains from his hakama, the Nethership laundry service would charge extra—deducted directly from his next paycheck.

Fuji grunted and headed to his room. Pii-Chan noticed the tension in his expression but wisely chose not to ask.

---

That night – Fuji’s room

Fuji’s mind was a whirlpool of thought.

Every time he shut his eyes, he saw himself again in the swamp and Piriko skipping ahead as though the muck were a polished floor, parasol twirling like a prop in some cheerful play.

Three easy missions. In a row.

His scowl deepened. The first month in Wahei had been nothing but steel at his throat, ambushes from dawn to dusk, every battle a gamble where his sword skills had been stretched to breaking. He had walked away alive, but only barely, and each scar still itched when he thought about it.

And now? He hadn’t even needed to draw steel.

His hand closed around the hilt at his side. The Kanzan Musashi felt heavier than usual, almost accusatory, as if reminding him what it meant to carry it.

“…Tch. At this rate, I’ll go soft,” he muttered. “And if Piriko keeps picking kiddie missions… maybe she really thinks I can’t handle more.”

The thought soured in his gut. Was she protecting him? Pitying him? Pride and unease knotted together in his chest, a mixture he hated. He clenched his jaw. He wouldn’t confront her until he knew for sure. For now, all he could do was sharpen himself in silence.

Sleep refused to come. After tossing and tangling in the sheets, he threw the blanket aside with a grunt and slipped into the corridor, zori sandals silent on the metal floors.

The Nethership was hushed, the kind of stillness that made every creak echo. Dim lanterns lined the walls, their glow caught in the polished brass rivets of the hull. Fuji’s reflection followed him in the darkened glass, a shadow with a blade at its side.

Nostalgia gnawed at him, sharp as hunger. He needed something familiar. Something from Hinomoto.

That was how he found himself before the House of Dreams.

The structure stood half-ruined, but the moment he saw it, recognition stirred. The widow who had lived here had been known for her stubborn adherence to the old ways. If she had truly followed the traditions of Hinomoto…

Fuji pushed open the warped wooden gate. He was not mistaken: at the center of the crumbling home lay a small inner garden.

It was wild, overgrown, but alive. A tree, split down the middle by lightning long ago, rose defiantly toward the night sky. One half dead, its bark charred and brittle; the other living, leaves still reaching upward in stubborn defiance. Around its roots bloomed red-and-black spider lilies, thin petals curling like flames, and pale yellow-pink cosmos, delicate yet unwavering against the damp.

Fuji paused. The air was thick with the scent of wet soil and fading blossoms. He stared at the tree—scarred, broken, yet still alive—and felt like he was looking in a mirror.

Memories pressed in: the clang of steel, the jeers of stronger foes, the cold dread of knowing his swordsmanship was outmatched. He had survived those trials, clawed through them, blade in hand. That was the Fuji who refused to die.

And now, he saw Pirilika again—laughing, twirling, turning missions into cheerful parades where victory came wrapped in ribbon and sugar. A part of him resented how effortlessly she moved through danger, and yet another part… couldn’t help but admire her, though he would never admit it aloud.

Did she not trust him anymore? Or was there another reason she kept choosing easier battles?

He shook the thought away. Whatever her reasons, it didn’t matter. He couldn’t risk growing weaker. His hand settled on the Kanzan Musashi. The weight was the same as always—heavy, demanding.

“…Fine,” he muttered. “If the missions won’t test me, I’ll test myself.”

The words felt like a vow carved into the dark. Here, in this forgotten garden, he would train. He would push his body, sharpen his skills, keep his edge alive. No one needed to know. Not Piriko, not Pii-Chan, no one.

Until the day came when Piriko finally stopped handing him child’s play and trusted him with a real challenge again—he would be ready.

The cracked tree loomed above him, half-dead, half-living, its scar glowing silver under the moonlight. Fuji leaned back against it, and despite his restless mind, sleep finally crept over him.

When it claimed him, it was not gentle. It was the sleep of a warrior who had chosen a new path—and sworn never to turn back.

---

Path One – A Hard Beginning – End

Notes:

Chapter 7 of this story

Chapter 11: Path Two - The Plan and the Gift

Wahei – Opener, Cannonline, and Pirilika’s Home - Dawn

At dawn, as the distant clang of steel rang from the forgotten garden of the House of Dreams where Fuji was testing himself, Pirilika had long since given up on sleep.

Her mind replayed the way he had looked after they left the United Netherworlds, their mission completed and the Rare Jams Bros. delivered. A silence stretched a heartbeat too long. A slight stiffening of his shoulders. His right brow arching just a little higher than the left. Brief, stiff movements of his dragon tail punctuated the quiet.

Small signals, ones she had learned to read like the symbols on a pattern sheet. Something was gnawing at him, but he hadn’t spoken of it, and she hadn’t found the courage to ask.

Pirilika sighed. She had thought—perhaps too hopefully—that choosing easier missions would give Fuji space to breathe, to grow used to Wahei, while she quietly carried out her secret plan, conceived after that first difficult month of missions they had barely managed to win.

Yet the battle he seemed to fight now was with himself.

Her eyes lingered on the secret plan sprawled across her desk, visible even from her bed. The carefully drafted sheets seemed to wait for her touch, and her chest tightened with a tug of anticipation.

She imagined pressing harder, bending day into night, moving faster than she had dared to plan. Maybe she could really finish it well before the two months she had allowed.

A quiet resolution settled over her. She wouldn’t join the next week’s mission—not if Pii-Chan could cover her, and not if her manager Tadael (1) agreed to take her place and deliver Fuji the new item for Operation Heartify. Relief and unease flickered across her gaze in equal measure.

If she poured herself wholly into this path, if she gave everything—then maybe, just maybe, Fuji would finally start to smile without that shadow in his eyes, like that distant day, more than five turns of the Dark Sun ago, when she had first made him a business proposal concerning the newborn Nethertime Support Force. (2)

“…Hold up. You are not going to ask for my help… Are you?” Fuji’s answer came to her proposal. (2)

“OF COOOOOOURSE I AM! Together, we're like blunder enlightening! We'll be a force of nature!” she shot back. (2)

“…Not again. You mean, 'We're thunder and lightning'! You never change, Pirilika,” Fuji said, sighing. (2)

“I’m not going to help you out of charity, kindness, or the goodness of my heart. I work for money,” Fuji continued, winking at her. (2)

“Hehehe, I know! That’s why I’ll only have you take on requests made by me, for me!” she said. (2)

And after having accepted in his usual style, Fuji had smiled from the heart, despite the Empathy Killer curse. That smile had sealed countless adventures to come.

---

Wahei – Nethership – A Week Later – Morning

“…Miss Pirilika apologizes again, but the stylist could only hold the interview this morning,” explained Tadael after the ritual greetings.

Fuji’s eyes narrowed.

“An interview? With a stylist? Hmph. If Piriko wanted to waste time on that, fine. But why is her personal secretary here slacking off instead of assisting her?” His gaze was sharp, testing Tadael as if weighing her words on a blade.

"The candidate is a renowned stylist from Celestia's fashion district—a male succubus specializing in 'Hinomoto warrior aesthetics.' Miss Pirilika insisted on consulting him for Tempoora's new line. Given his... persuasive talents, Yuki (3) is accompanying her to ensure the meeting remains strictly professional," replied Pii-Chan quickly.

Fuji frowned, scratching the back of his head. “Tch… still feels off.”

But after a pause, he let the explanation slide, though his expression made clear he wasn’t fully convinced. The mention of a male succubus was at least a passable excuse. Tadael managed Tempoora, Yuki had just been promoted to the same rank—and both were knee-deep in fashion schemes he neither cared for nor understood.

Pii-Chan exhaled inwardly—any further questions and Miss Pirilika’s cover would have unraveled.

After a brief silence, Tadael cleared her throat to recapture the moment.

“Before giving you the mission details, I have here a gift for you, Fuji, from Miss Pirilika.”

The package glittered faintly in the light due to its decorative ribbon. Fuji froze, every muscle tightening. Memories of the Glittery Spirit flared in his mind. (4) His eye twitched.

“…Open it. Please,” he said, voice flat.

With a long-suffering sigh, Tadael obliged, lifting out a sleek, metallic item. It hummed with a faint, magical energy.

Fuji and Pii-Chan both squeezed their eyes shut, braced for an explosion.

Nothing happened.

“It’s a thermos,” Tadael explained, her voice edged with exasperation. “It's written on the box that it keeps things either hot or cold. There is no need to be so melodramatic, Fuji and Pii-Chan.”

Fuji scowled, his face carved with irritation. Three easy missions. Three useless trinkets. Not one had sharpened his blade.

It was high time to talk to Piriko. He had given her silence long enough, and if she didn’t give him an acceptable explanation, he would demand she break their contract and return to Hinomoto—one way or another.

“…I’ll put this contraption in my room. Hopefully the Nethership will still be intact when I return. Then you can brief me on the mission,” Fuji said, taking the thermos gingerly from Tadael’s hands.

Notes:

(1) The Red Witch in the Nethership
(2) Disgaea 7 - Chapter 15
(3) The Succubus in the Nethership
(4) Chapter 6 of this story

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 2 of World of Disgaea 7