I Was Kidnapped by a Book and Ended Up Saving the World - Chapter 13

The affairs of the jujutsu world weren’t something he should pry into, so Mizutani Hikaru quietly watched as Gojo Satoru devoured a ridiculous variety and quantity of desserts. He almost suspected this man had a second stomach before he finally stopped.

After finishing, Gojo crossed one leg over the other. Both his posture and demeanor radiated leisure. Propping his chin on one hand, he smiled lazily and said:

“Mr. Two-Dots, since I have quite a good impression of you, I’ll tell you a bit more.”

Mizutani flinched slightly at the nickname before recalling that, yes, he did have two moles on his face. Apparently, this guy was fast at coming up with nicknames.

“There’s an unusual fluctuation of power within you.”

That one sentence was enough to put Mizutani on high alert. He had never considered that the “book” residing in him might be detected.

By his reasoning, something capable of casually creating humans and abilities must count as a higher-dimensional being. Mizutani sighed inwardly—just a few days ago he had been mocking the book for its eccentric tastes, but now, thanks to his habit of overindulging in novels, he himself was overestimating the book’s powers.

Gojo traced a finger lightly through the air, tilting his head. Though his eyes were covered by a blindfold, Mizutani could somehow feel him narrowing his gaze, scrutinizing him.

As the strongest in the jujutsu world, even his gaze seemed to have a kind of penetrating quality.

“Your cursed energy may be mediocre, but that other power doesn’t feel ordinary at all.”

Mizutani let out a soft sigh. Knowing that every small reaction of his would be seen by Gojo, he didn’t bother to hide anything. Instead, he spoke with honest emotion:

“I honestly don’t know what’s going on either.”

Gojo leaned forward, gaze focusing on Mizutani’s head. In this world, special abilities existed in different forms, but cursed energy was unique—it wasn’t evenly distributed across the body but instead gathered more densely in the head.

This man before him was the same, except the power concentrated in his head wasn’t cursed energy at all.

Gojo sat back, intrigued. “I’ve never seen anyone like you. Interested in coming to the jujutsu world for a visit?”

Mizutani blinked twice in quick succession. Was this man trying to poach him? From the intelligence he had gathered over the past few days, he knew Gojo acted on whims, but he hadn’t expected him to be this whimsical.

“I appreciate the offer, but I don’t plan on changing jobs for now,” Mizutani replied after some thought. “If your students ever come to Yokohama to exorcise curses, I’ll make sure to treat them well.”

Gojo shifted his crossed legs and then the two of them exchanged LINE accounts.

Even after seeing Gojo off, Mizutani was left with an odd feeling. He had never encountered such an easygoing client before. If not for being used to mafia life, he might actually have been swayed by Gojo’s invitation.

When they left the dessert shop, Mizutani enthusiastically packed every dessert in the store for Gojo, and of course, he grabbed plenty for himself too.

Though the mafia paid him well, opportunities to file expenses were rare—so today he splurged with abandon.

He left with an armful of pastel-colored dessert bags.

The weather was beautiful, Yokohama’s sky a rare clear blue, and the Tsurumi River shimmered gold in the sunlight.

Suddenly, an unexpected figure appeared by the riverside.

Mizutani looked up to see Oda Sakunosuke standing at the edge of the river, his gaze fixed on the calm surface, as though something within it had caught his attention.

The red-haired, blue-eyed man wore casual clothes today. His light brown trench coat fluttered in the breeze, strands of red hair swaying gently.

Was it his day off? Mizutani wasn’t sure how the lower-level members’ shifts worked, but it seemed it must be. Otherwise, Oda wouldn’t be here appreciating the scenery. After all, even for meager pay, he always performed his duties diligently, often with higher efficiency than others.

Noticing Mizutani’s gaze, Oda turned his head. Spotting the man who occasionally helped him out, he nodded politely, a simple greeting.

Carrying his bags, Mizutani walked over to stand beside him, his eyes also resting on the tranquil river. Neither spoke; the air between them was quiet.

Remembering that Suzuki Haru hadn’t had any sweets in a couple of days—surviving only on the shopkeeper’s cooking, which was good but repetitive—Mizutani thought for a moment, then asked:

“How are your five kids doing?”

“They’re all doing well.” Mention of them brightened Oda’s expression. The two of them then conversed like parents waiting to pick up children, their topic revolving around childcare.

“Raising kids costs money,” Mizutani remarked, watching the flowing water. “Once they start school, your salary might not be enough.”

“And if they struggle with studies, hiring a tutor will be another expense.” Though casually said, Mizutani genuinely felt Oda’s current salary wouldn’t suffice—not for five children. Raising one might be manageable, but five would be tough. Without realizing it, Mizutani mentally excluded Suzuki Haru from the list of those needing education.

“I see… you’re right.” Oda lowered his eyes, thoughtful. “I really should start considering their education.”

This surprised Mizutani—he had assumed Oda already had everything planned, given how meticulous he usually seemed.

After chatting idly for a while, Mizutani handed half of his dessert bags to Oda. Seeing the man’s slightly startled look, Mizutani lowered his gaze and said:

“I expensed these from the boss. I took extra. You’ve got lots of kids at home, so take them some.”

Oda nodded. Mizutani had always looked out for members with children, so the gesture wasn’t strange.

“Thank you,” Oda said sincerely, his blue eyes reflecting genuine gratitude.

Mizutani waved it off, signaling there was no need for formality. Just as he was about to leave, the river suddenly rippled, the water’s calm breaking into violent waves, as though something was about to emerge.

A black head broke the golden surface. Dazai Osamu’s bandages were soaked through, water plants clinging to his hair. Yet instead of looking ridiculous, his damp aura made him resemble a young water ghost. Even the single visible dark eye seemed drenched in gloom.

Mizutani felt a wave of absurdity. So Oda hadn’t been admiring the view—he had been watching Dazai swim.

His expression was hard to describe, while Dazai’s expression was even more so.

The young head turned from Oda to Mizutani, gaze flicking repeatedly between the identical dessert bags in their hands. Finally, his eye revealed the look of a boy—an expression of disdain mixed with shock.

Seeing the bags and the harmonious atmosphere between the two men, an outrageous thought crept into Dazai’s mind.

Why would Mizutani, ever loyal like a dog to the boss, cover for Oda and children he barely knew? Why did he keep using dessert as an excuse to have one-on-one conversations with Oda?

Could it be… he was pursuing Oda?

Dazai’s visible eye widened, his brows knitted tightly. He was precocious and knew that unusual bonds could exist between men, but he had never imagined this happening with Oda.

What a joke. The little runt’s subordinate, pursuing Oda Sakunosuke? What a revolting idea.

On the riverbank, Mizutani maintained a neutral expression after seeing Dazai surface. He didn’t move to help—what if floating in the river was simply Dazai’s hobby?

But why did his gaze look so strange? Mizutani glanced at Oda, whose expression remained unchanged, and asked quietly:

“Is Lord Dazai your friend?”

If it were anyone else, Mizutani wouldn’t have believed a low-level member could be linked to Dazai. But Oda was always an exception, so he asked.

The red-haired, blue-eyed man nodded, his hair tuft bobbing with the motion.

Realizing this, Mizutani fell into new confusion. Why was Dazai staring at him with suspicion laced with disdain?

Looking down at the bags in his hands, Mizutani wondered—did Dazai think he hadn’t brought enough sweets?

He hesitated, then handed his remaining bags to Oda. Though puzzled, Oda accepted them.

After this, Mizutani looked back at Dazai.

The suspicion and disdain in that gaze only deepened.

The next second, Dazai emerged from the water like a vengeful ghost, striding toward Mizutani with a chilling aura.