How to raise a random guy's wife

Kasumigaoka Utaha gazed out the window, her eyes distant. "So I desperately wanted to try harder. If I hadn't realized it, that would have been fine, but once I did, I didn't want to compromise no matter what. I just wanted to do everything I could to get closer to my goal and reach that place that I didn't even know the answer to."

“Yes! That’s the feeling!” Poshima Izumi said, holding his coffee cup. “I know it’s already pretty good, but I still want to go a step further.”

Kobayashi Megumi's advice was actually quite useful.

"But, going to sea," Kasumigaoka Utaha tilted her head, "is this kind of effort really worthwhile?"

"Eh?"

"It's just a vague feeling, I can't be sure if it really exists," Kasumigaoka Utaha said earnestly. "Are those efforts really bringing you closer to your goal? Or, are those efforts making your goal drift further and further away from you?"

"You mean..." The light in Izumi Hashima's eyes gradually dimmed, "Should I give up?"

“I mean, you should distract yourself,” Kasumigaoka Utaha corrected. “Let your eyes, which are always fixed on the target, also look at yourself.”

"Myself?"

“You have been possessed.” Kasumigaoka Utaha’s red eyes reflected Hashima Izumi’s face. “Possessed by you as a storyteller spirit.”

Bo Island stared wide-eyed, "Possessed...?"

“Megumi asked me to be your exorcist, but I feel you should do it yourself.” Kasumigaoka Utaha pointed out, “Because both the exorcising sword and the exorcising medicine seller are characters you created. Now that Kagami and Makoto know, please tell me in detail the ‘reason’ you’ve been avoiding.”

Chapter 801 The True Reason

"No... [reason]."

The medicine seller gently swayed his unsheathed demon-slaying sword, the bell attached to the hilt ringing crisply.

A storyteller spirit resembling a skeleton, and a rakugo performer with a guilty expression.

The white bone is named the Storyteller Spirit; this is its [form].

The master died because of his disciple; this is the truth.

However, the true thoughts of the person involved can never be fully understood.

What exactly is it?

Does the Listening Spirit seek revenge, an answer, or a final performance?

The reasoning is not yet clear, but the white bones have already released a deep, dark cloud that hangs over them.

The densely packed characters crawled like a swarm of insects, engulfing everything around them and approaching the people in the hotel.

We can't... delay any longer...

Blood spilled from the corner of his mouth as the medicine seller forcefully drew his demon-slaying sword!

"--liberation--"

As the medicine seller chanted softly, the beast head carved at the end of the sword hilt opened its mouth, shouting, "Liberation!"

The beast's head suddenly extended its fur, fluttering like a banner.

The medicine seller's clothes were covered in dazzling gold, his fair skin darkened, his long, loose hair faded, and golden patterns crept onto his skin, radiating a blazing sun-like glow.

The medicine seller transformed into an exorcist, radiant as a god.

The Demon-Slaying Sword broke free from its restraints, its strange radiance mingling with eerie crimson as it surged into the shape of a blade, meeting the onrushing skeletal storyteller.

Golden light burst forth, and the white bones were instantly severed.

If one can discern the truth of form, this sword strike can liberate the storyteller spirit.

However, the lack of reason at this moment caused this attack to lose its original power.

The falling bones trembled, cracking layer by layer before even hitting the ground, unfolding into pages that billowed into the air, carrying black energy, and gathering towards the exorcist amidst a cacophony of sounds.

The exorcist swung his sword, shattering the pages of the book, but the black aura did not dissipate; instead, it twisted and coiled around his body.

Golden light swirled as the exorcist broke free from the dark aura and leaped into the air to avoid affecting others.

The pages turned, black energy surged, and the densely packed pages chased upwards.

He swung his demon-slaying sword, severing the pages of the book. The blade burst with iridescent light, blooming like fireworks to ward off the approaching black energy.

The exorcist took the opportunity to avoid other pages and adjust his position to create distance.

However, more pages had anticipated the exorcists' movements and adjusted their positions in advance to intercept them.

The surging light traced graceful arcs in the air as the exorcist forcefully carved a gap between the pages of the book and slipped inside.

As the pages rolled by, the exorcist's eyes darted around, fixing on the words on the page.

The master, now reduced to bones, asked for nothing more than to know if his beloved disciple was satisfied with the story...

wrong.

The power of the demon-slaying sword has not yet been fully unleashed.

This is not reasonable.

Using the wall as leverage to adjust its direction, the exorcist dodged, and the wall shattered from the impact of the book pages.

[Only by killing my master can I break free from my dependence on him and become a qualified rakugo performer. I'm sure my master will understand...]

wrong.

The exorcist moved among the pages of the book, observing its contents.

Even if I were to transform into a storyteller spirit, I would still want to give one last performance...

wrong.

The pages showed no signs of decreasing, and the black aura emanating from them stretched into long black lines, coming from all directions and blocking all escape routes for the exorcist.

My child, how have you been all these years? That's the only thing I can't stop worrying about...

Master, your inability to write good stories is a burden to me. I can't go on like this...

Why did you want to kill me?

Why did you betray me?

I did not betray you!

I hate it!

You've changed...

No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no!

The brilliant sword light raged, and all the approaching pages were instantly shattered.

There are so many words written on the pages, yet not a single one is a "reason".

The power of the storyteller grew stronger and stronger, and the shattered pages turned into new pages, revealing dense text.

However, the power of the demon-slaying sword has never been fully unleashed, and if this continues...

The exorcist's eyes darted around, and he noticed that some pages of a book were near the hotel guests.

A dazzling golden light pierced through the pages that were blocking its path, and the exorcist swung his sword at the pages.

Boom boom boom boom boom!

The pages of the book exploded first, and black mist rolled in, enveloping the exorcist.

This is... a trap!

From the very beginning, these pages were intended for exorcists.

The black energy condensed into black characters that climbed onto the exorcist's body, threatening to completely devour him.

As the characters erode the imagery, the scene before the exorcist's eyes gradually blurs, and a hallucination begins to emerge.

The young rakugo performer sat upright at his desk, writing down each character.

Behind him, an elderly rakugo performer held a sharp knife, his expression a mixture of sorrow and relief.

Layers upon layers of black characters completely covered the exorcist's body. Just as the exorcist was about to be devoured, a blinding light shot into the sky like a blazing sun, and the black mist melted away like ice and snow wherever it passed.

The sword that vanquishes demons—fully unleashed!

The exorcist floated in the air, his exorcising sword calmly radiating a flame-like light. "Your [reason]... I already know it."

The white bones are indeed the spirit of the storyteller, and the master did indeed die because of his disciple.

Knowing his time was running out, the master discovered that his disciple had been relying on the stories he had written, but the master was about to die, and the disciple would soon have no more stories.

The master, still worried, had no choice but to pick up a sharp knife. "If you can't write a story that satisfies me, I'll kill you to save you from disgracing me. If you want to live, write your own good story."

Thus, "Rakugo to Yokai" came into being.

"What a good story..." Seeing that his disciple had finished a good story, the master, whose health was already poor, could no longer hold on. "That way... I can rest assured."

The knife fell from the master's hand, and the disciple's heart sank as well.

Tears soaked the pages, but the disciple dared not turn back.

"It's not over yet... I haven't finished writing... This is just the rakugo performer's own opinion; the truth is not like that. The truth will be revealed soon..." The disciple's tears fell onto the paper along with the pen in his hand. "So... don't go, don't leave me... It's not over yet..."

Then the skeletal remains detached from the aged body, stood behind the disciple, and softly recited the story written by the disciple.

The pages fluttered up and merged into the bones, the pitch-black ink emanating a thick, dark aura.

-

Bo Island puts down his pen at sea, looks at the completed storyboard, and reveals a complex yet relieved smile.

Chapter 802 A Beginning and an End

“This ending…” Kobayashi Sora looked through the storyboard for the final episode, which was finally completed, “is a bit too aggressive.”

"Well~" Kasumigaoka Utaha sneered, "I bet the editors at Jump will be furious."

"Huh?" Bo Island was startled as he left the boat. "Isn't that terrible?"

"What's there to be afraid of? Isn't what you're drawing your own story? It's also an allusion to yourself." Eriri scoffed. "What's wrong with criticizing yourself?"

"But what if people misunderstand..." Mayu Sagara said with some worry.

“That’s easy.” Kobayashi Sora quickly found a solution. “The animation is doing very well right now. I’ll find two media outlets to do an interview with you. You can just briefly describe your journey to going overseas.”