Chapter 10

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Ikiru Takizawa pushed open the apartment door, his golden retriever eagerly leaping into his arms, nuzzling and wriggling about. Takizawa spoke softly to it for a while, asking things like, “Did you miss me?” “Did you use the bathroom properly?” “Have you been eating well?” Amid the dog’s excited barks, he lost himself completely. Without resting, he clipped on the leash and stepped outside.

“Come on, Daifuku, today we won’t stop until you’re too tired to want to go home!”

With such a passionate promise to his beloved pet, Takizawa led him to the nearest park and streets, only to be taken on lap after lap by the dog.

Daifuku was lean and agile, full of boundless energy. Previously, Takizawa could only walk him in the early morning hours. Now, just as dusk fell, the streets were filled with people out for a stroll. Daifuku ran so joyfully that Takizawa’s expression twisted from the confident calm he once had to one of exhaustion, standing still and bargaining with him.

“We’ve gone pretty far. When we get back, I’m not carrying you.”

Daifuku immediately flopped onto the ground, playing stubborn. Takizawa waved the dog’s floppy ears to fan himself. “My little princess, don’t your paws hurt?”

“Woo~”

Daifuku whimpered softly. A foolish grin spread across Takizawa’s face. “You’re so adorable. How could you have been abandoned in the first place?”

He looked healthy and lively, without a trace of a stray’s shadow. In just a few days, the previous gaunt look had vanished. Takizawa couldn’t help but sigh, “Even a homeless stray dog can be loved. I’ve said that countless times before. It sounds so cheesy and sentimental, no wonder Dazai…”

He paused, his voice softening considerably, “...would cover his ears and look so disgusted.”

That nickname reminded Takizawa of someone—his companion for the second mission.

Osamu Dazai disliked dogs, to the extent that he would look away or mock them whenever he saw one. Whether it was sardonic metaphor or self-mockery, Takizawa happened to love dogs immensely.

“Dogs are foolish and pitiful creatures,” Dazai once said. “They blindly follow anyone who offers them even the smallest kindness, whimpering and tucking their tails even when abused, incapable of fierce retaliation, forever obedient, willingly chained.”

Those dark words made Takizawa wince, yet he would openly cuddle puppies in front of Dazai, saying, “Isn’t that wonderful? An eternal loyalty that never fades, heartfelt love without flamboyant words to deceive the senses, but proven through actions and time that they will never leave.”

Many had labeled Takizawa as a “dog”—at the Gojo household, by Nakahara Chuuya, and even under Dazai’s command. Within and outside the organization, people said Takizawa was Dazai’s best-trained mad dog—a derogatory term yet one that instilled genuine fear.

Strangely, Dazai would tirelessly call Chuuya a dog, provoking loud arguments that Takizawa found noisy and chaotic, but he never demanded the same from himself.

Takizawa found these nicknames amusing. Many tried to sow discord, but he never listened—he was the unshakable harbor for his mission targets.

Onlookers had started to gather. Takizawa lifted Daifuku’s head, then released it, only for the dog to flop to the ground again.

“I’ll count to three. If you get up within three seconds, I’ll open a can of food for you.” He tried to tempt him, but such a bribe was useless to the playful retriever. Suddenly, Daifuku sprang to his feet and pounced on a high school boy who had been standing nearby watching for a long time.

“Woof!”

The leash was firmly tied to Takizawa’s wrist, but he was pulled off balance by the sudden tug. He caught a flash of panic in the boy’s eyes and quickly reached out to pull Daifuku back, apologizing, “Sorry, my dog scared you…”

“...”

Surprise crept into Takizawa’s eyes as he stared at the black-haired youth before him—and the enormous presence that appeared on the boy’s shoulder in the blink of an eye.

A dark, terrifying aura emanated from it, radiating a forbidding warning. The blackness seemed almost tangible, blotting out the light beneath the street lamps, an ominous shadow.

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Takizawa hugged Daifuku tightly, covering the dog’s mouth. The golden retriever, sensing danger, burrowed deeper into his arms.

“Don’t… come near… Yuta!”

The enormous, grotesque creature roared indignantly as if its territory had been invaded.

“Wait, Rika! Don’t hurt him!” Yuta Okkotsu shouted anxiously, looking at the young man standing obliviously nearby. The youth’s eyes showed apology, his entire demeanor harmless and gentle—a genuinely good person!

But the curse did not heed his plea. It could move freely through the air and instantly appeared before Takizawa.

Okkotsu’s scalp tingled; he almost anticipated what the youth would endure.

How could this happen... Rika wouldn’t usually be this tense. He hadn’t harmed me, hadn’t even come near.

Yet Takizawa calmly gazed at the curse.

A cursed spirit bonded with a human? At that level... it didn’t seem newborn.

On the bustling street, Takizawa smiled faintly. “You look startled. Your complexion isn’t good.”

Okkotsu was stunned for a moment before realizing Takizawa was speaking to him. “No, I…”

He kept a wary eye on Rika, whose claws rested on the youth’s neck but remained frozen, trembling as if... frightened?

Never before had Rika shown such terror.

Okkotsu’s gaze sparkled with a mix of hope and fear as Takizawa said,

“Let me buy you a drink.” The youth pointed to a vending machine by the basketball court. “Unless you’re in a hurry?”

Disregarding the cursed spirit, he walked close to it. Ordinary people could touch curses without realizing it; Takizawa’s reaction was no different. Even when the curse lunged at him, his steps never faltered.

Unconsciously, it had come to this...

Okkotsu sat on a public bench at the basketball court, holding a soda handed to him by Takizawa. His eyes fixed on his shoes, but his peripheral vision carefully observed Takizawa.

Rika was restraining herself...

Uncertain what she was resisting, restless and uneasy. The youth under the curse’s gaze stared conflictedly at the vending machine, then resignedly pressed two buttons.

“This brand’s drinks taste awful after all these years. Why hasn’t it gone out of business?” Takizawa muttered as he sat beside Okkotsu, stretching his long legs casually. Daifuku lay at his feet, scrunching his nose and playing dead with a melancholy air.

Takizawa stroked the dog’s head. “Say sorry.”

Okkotsu murmured, “No, why trouble a dog? He’s pretty cute.”

“Want to pet him?”

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“May I?”

“He’s a simpleton. He’d happily go with any stranger.”

“Ah…”

Okkotsu gently ran his hand along the golden retriever’s back. The soft fur and warm body relaxed his tense nerves. An involuntary smile appeared, and his usually somber eyes brightened somewhat.

“What’s her name?” Okkotsu asked.

“Daifuku.”

“A very cute name.”

The curse immediately grew agitated. “Isn’t Rika cute? Isn’t Rika cute? Yuta…”

Takizawa snapped his fingers and, like a chatterbox, explained, “Most people name their pets after their favorite foods or other meaningful words. When I call her name, she reminds me of someone.”

Okkotsu instinctively asked, “Someone you like?”

“Oh, no. Do you?”

“...”

Okkotsu remained silent. The curse unwilling to hide its form loudly declared, “Yuta, Yuta, I like you the most!”

Ha.

Takizawa pulled at the corner of his mouth.

What on earth is going on with these two?

He glanced toward the empty basketball court. The thudding sounds grew clearer—someone was practicing shooting basketballs, yet no one was there.

“There’s an urban legend…” Takizawa said. “At nine o’clock at night, a ghost bounces a basketball here, practicing shots. If someone uses the court at night, they’ll be found the next morning with their head stuck in the hoop. Some say several heads cram into one basket.”

Okkotsu shivered at Takizawa’s soft yet eerie tone. Just as he was about to suggest leaving, he met a pair of meaningful, bright green eyes.

The young man’s eyes glowed under the streetlamp. Earlier gentle, now cold like some wild beast.

A sensation... of being seen through, and disgusted.

Okkotsu could no longer bear it and stood up abruptly, only to see Takizawa smile and say,

“We’re in trouble.”