Easy as Pumpkin Pie

Mission Details:

Takeshiyama sat on the edge of the exam table, the cool surface beneath him a subtle reminder of how much time he’d spent here lately. The doctor stood nearby, flipping through papers on his clipboard, though the sounds of the busy clinic outside seeped in through the door, a constant reminder that life continued as usual—unlike the pause in his own.

"Well," the doctor started, glancing up at the imposing figure in front of him, "everything looks good for now. Your wounds are healing nicely. How’s the arm—still bothering you?"

Takeshiyama flexed the bandaged stump, watching it move as if expecting more. The phantom ache had dulled but never fully left. "It’s fine, doc. Sometimes feels like it’s still there. Doesn’t hurt, though." His voice was low, but the weight behind it felt heavier than his physical form.

The doctor nodded, clearly choosing his next words carefully. "That’s normal. You know, Kage’s offer still stands. Her methods might—"

Takeshiyama waved his remaining hand, cutting the doctor off. "Yeah, yeah, I know. Blood magic, fix everything like it never happened." His eyes narrowed slightly, though there was a hint of a smile at the corner of his lips. "I’m sure she means well, but I’m not some experiment. I’ve still got a bit of pride left."

The doctor chuckled softly. "Pride hasn’t been in short supply with you, I’ll give you that."

Takeshiyama rose from the bed with a groan, adjusting his kimono. Today’s was a darker blue, autumn’s chill in the air. "So I’m good to go then?"

"Clear as I can make you." The doctor jotted something down before glancing up. "Heading out somewhere?"

The Oni gave a small nod. "Yeah... pumpkin patch outside the village. Thought I’d pick up a couple before the season’s over." There was a softness in his voice, a flicker of normalcy. "Good for the kids... good for me too."

The doctor smiled, stepping back and giving him a final once-over. "Just don’t go lifting any carts, alright?"

Takeshiyama gave a snort. "I’ll leave that to someone else this time."

The door clicked softly behind him as Takeshiyama stepped out, greeted by the familiar sounds of the village. His strides were steady, deliberate, as he made his way down the road, mind already shifting from the clinic to the day ahead. The thought of the pumpkin patch brought a strange sense of peace, something grounding in the simple act of choosing a gourd from the earth. A small escape from the weight he carried.  The path out of the village was lined with golden leaves, their rustling a soft song as the wind swept through. He didn’t hurry. There was no rush—just the steady pull of the earth beneath his feet and the road stretching ahead.

The pumpkin patch sprawled out ahead, a sea of orange and green with vines twisting through the dirt. The smell of earth and harvest hung in the air, crisp with the promise of autumn. Takeshiyama slowed his pace, letting the familiar calm of the countryside settle into his bones. The village was a distant hum now, replaced by the rustle of leaves and the soft chatter of families picking their pumpkins.  As he walked through the patch, his eyes were drawn to a small scene off to the side. Three boys stood in a loose circle, jeering at another—a chubby kid, clutching a small, misshapen pumpkin. His face was red, eyes fixed on the ground as the bullies prodded at him with sneers and shoves.

"That thing's as ugly as you!" one of the boys laughed, nudging the pumpkin with his foot.

"Yeah, bet it won’t even stand up straight, just like him!" another chimed in.

Takeshiyama’s brow furrowed as he watched, his large frame casting a shadow over the patch as he approached. He didn’t need to say much. His sheer presence, towering and scarred, was enough to freeze the bullies in place.  "Hey," his voice rumbled like distant thunder, steady but unmistakable. The boys looked up, eyes widening as they took in the giant before them—the Oni who had defended the village, the sumo legend. "You think that’s funny?"

The leader of the trio swallowed hard, but none of them spoke. They shuffled backward, glancing nervously at one another before turning tail and running off without another word.

Takeshiyama let out a quiet snort, watching them disappear into the distance before turning to the kid, who still hadn’t looked up.
"You alright?" he asked, his tone softening as he crouched down to the boy’s level. The kid nodded slowly, wiping at his eyes with the back of his sleeve.

"They said... my pumpkin’s ugly," the boy muttered, his voice shaky.

Takeshiyama glanced at the small pumpkin the kid held. It was lopsided, with warts and knots covering its surface, the stem crooked and gnarled. But the Oni smiled, gently resting his hand on the boy’s shoulder. "Well, they’re wrong. That’s a good pumpkin you’ve got there."

The kid looked up, confused. "Really?"

"Yeah. You know, not every pumpkin’s perfect. Some are round, some are lumpy. But that’s what makes them special." He gestured to the pumpkin. "Just like this one. Looks tough, doesn’t it?"

The boy nodded, his eyes slowly brightening. "Yeah... I guess it does."

Takeshiyama grinned and stood up, scanning the patch before spotting a large pumpkin off to the side—one even bigger than the boy’s, covered in warts and odd bumps, its shape awkward and uneven. He strode over and hoisted it up effortlessly, cradling it in his one arm as he returned to the boy.  "And this," he said, holding up his own prize, "is my pumpkin. Looks like it’s been through a few battles, doesn’t it?"

The kid stared at the massive, gnarled pumpkin, then at Takeshiyama, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Yeah... it’s kind of cool."

Takeshiyama nodded. "Exactly. So, how about we take these home? You and me—we’ll carve them up, make something great out of them."

The boy’s smile grew, and he straightened up, clutching his own pumpkin proudly. "Okay!"

Together, they made their way toward the exit of the patch, the boy keeping pace beside the giant Oni. Takeshiyama couldn’t help but chuckle to himself as he walked, feeling lighter than he had in weeks. Maybe not everything needed to be perfect to be worth something—maybe the imperfections were what made things, and people, stronger.  As they left the patch behind, their pumpkins—gnarled and misshapen—bounced gently in their arms, mirrors of the resilience both carried inside.

The woman smiled warmly and turned to her son. "See, even Takeshiyama thinks your pumpkin’s great."

The boy grinned, clutching his pumpkin tighter, his eyes filled with pride. "He said it was tough, like me."

Takeshiyama gave a small nod, adjusting the weight of his own misshapen pumpkin. "That's right, tougher than it looks."

The boy’s parents exchanged a quick look before the father stepped forward, offering a hand. "Thank you, Takeshiyama. My son talks about you constantly—he’s a big fan."

Takeshiyama shook the man’s hand, his grip firm but controlled. "Just glad I could help," he replied, offering a slight smile. The admiration always felt a little strange, but he accepted it nonetheless.

The mother hesitated for a moment before speaking. "Actually, there’s something else you might be able to help with... if you don’t mind."

Takeshiyama raised an eyebrow. "What is it?"

"Well," she began, glancing at her husband, "our son’s been a bit reluctant to dress up for the festival. All the kids are going in costume, but we haven’t been able to convince him. You being here—maybe you could help talk him into it?"  The boy shuffled awkwardly, his previous confidence dimming at the mention of a costume. Kaito—Takeshiyama—watched him for a moment, seeing a bit of himself in the boy’s hesitation. He scratched at his chin, a thought stirring.

"You know," Kaito said slowly, memories drifting up, "I still have a mawashi—a real sumo belt. It’s child-sized, left over from when I trained some young sumo. It’s been gathering dust, but it might fit you."

The boy blinked, his eyes widening. "A real sumo belt?"

"Yeah...a Muwashi," Takeshiyama corrected him, crouching down to meet the boy’s gaze. "It’s not perfect, a little old, but it’s the real deal. How about dressing up as a sumo for the festival? Strong, like your pumpkin... strong, like me."

The boy hesitated, clearly weighing the idea. His small hands tightened on his pumpkin, but curiosity flickered in his eyes. "I dunno..."

The mother knelt next to her son, her voice soft and encouraging. "You’d look just as tough as Takeshiyama. Don’t you think?"

Kaito watched the boy closely, seeing the same battle between self-doubt and possibility play out in the kid’s mind that had often plagued his own thoughts since the injury. "If you want," he added, "I can show you how to wear it properly—like a true Rikishi. We’ll get you looking like a real yokozuna in the making."

The boy’s doubt melted into a shy smile. "Okay... I think that’d be cool."

Both parents beamed, relief washing over them. "Thank you so much!" the father said, his gratitude evident. "He’s going to be the talk of the festival, thanks to you."

Takeshiyama stood, nodding slowly. "I’ll bring the mawashi by tomorrow. It’s yours for the festival." He gently tousled the boy’s hair. "You’ll make a fine sumo."

As they parted ways, the family couldn’t stop thanking him. Kaito continued on, his heavy pumpkin balanced in his arm, a faint smile tugging at his lips. He hadn’t intended on getting involved beyond scaring off some bullies, but somehow, in helping that kid, he felt a small piece of himself return.  Despite his tough exterior, there was always that piece of him that wanted to leave things better than the way he found them.  His sport was violence, but it was sport.  Competition, to challenge oneself and to raise not only yourself, but others up.....the war with the beasts had tarnished that....scars deeper than the ones he wore upon his flesh.
Maybe the mawashi would help the boy feel stronger. And maybe, just maybe, Kaito could find his own strength again too, piece by piece.

The cool autumn air swirled around Takeshiyama as he made his way through the village to meet up with the boy. Dressed in a deep blue kimono adorned with patterns of swirling white clouds, the sumo stood out in the dimming light. His large frame, nearly seven feet tall and still broad despite losing some weight since the invasion, cast a long shadow as he moved. His black hair, streaked with a few strands of gray, was tied back in a neat bun, though some strands fell loose over the horns that protruded from his forehead. The scars that marked his tanned skin were visible at the collar of his kimono, stretching down his neck like jagged lines of history. His missing left forearm was bandaged, but there was no sign of pain—only the subtle twitching of fingers he no longer had.  When he arrived at the boy’s home, the child—who introduced himself as Haruto—stood anxiously by the door, holding the mawashi that Takeshiyama had brought the day before. His parents were nearby, watching with eager anticipation.
"Ready?" Takeshiyama asked, his voice a low rumble.

Haruto nodded, but there was a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. "You’ll show me how to wear it, right?"

Takeshiyama smiled, crouching down to meet the boy’s gaze. "Of course."

They went inside, and Takeshiyama began the process of showing Haruto how to wrap the mawashi around his small frame. He explained each fold and tuck, the importance of the belt’s tightness, and how it symbolized the strength and focus of a sumo wrestler. His large hand worked expertly, but as he reached the final step—tying the knot—he paused, his face betraying a flicker of frustration.  Without two hands, he couldn't tie it properly. He stared at the belt for a moment, then turned to Haruto's mother, who had been quietly watching from the side. "Could you help finish the knot? I’ll guide you through it."  She stepped forward quickly, nodding, and with Takeshiyama’s patient instructions, she tied the mawashi just right. Haruto stood tall, beaming in his sumo attire, looking up at the Oni with pride.

"How’s it feel?" Takeshiyama asked.

"Strong," Haruto said with a grin.

Takeshiyama chuckled, adjusting the boy’s stance. "Good. Now, let’s work on the hair."  He took a comb and tried to pull the boy’s hair into the traditional topknot, but once again, the missing hand hindered him. After a brief pause, he handed the comb to Haruto’s mother, showing her how to smooth the hair and tie it properly. She followed his instructions carefully, and soon enough, Haruto looked every bit the part of a miniature sumo wrestler.

"Thanks," Haruto said quietly, his eyes wide with admiration. Then, after a pause, he added, "Will you... take me to the festival?"

Takeshiyama hesitated. He hadn’t planned on it—his offer was only to help with the costume—but the hopeful look in Haruto’s eyes tugged at something deep within him. For a moment, he thought about refusing, about letting the parents take him instead. But the boy’s quiet anticipation made the words difficult to say.  "Alright," Takeshiyama finally said, his voice soft but resolute. "I’ll take you."  Haruto’s face lit up, and his parents gave Takeshiyama grateful smiles as they watched the two of them head out toward the festival.

As they walked, gathering candy from stalls and houses along the way, Haruto peppered Takeshiyama with questions. "What's the hardest sumo move? Do you always have to fight in the ring? What was your best match?"

Takeshiyama answered as best he could, explaining the intricacies of sumo tradition. He talked about the tachiai, the initial charge, and how important it was to stay balanced. He described the different techniques and rules of the sport, as well as the intense matches that had earned him his rank. Haruto listened with wide-eyed fascination, occasionally offering small pieces of candy from his own haul.  At one point, they passed the same group of bullies that had bothered Haruto before. The boys froze, their sneers quickly vanishing as they saw Takeshiyama towering beside the child. Without a word, they turned and ran, disappearing into the crowd.

Haruto looked up at Takeshiyama, grinning from ear to ear. "They’re scared of you."

Takeshiyama chuckled. "Maybe. But it’s not about scaring people. It’s about standing tall, no matter what."

As they continued walking, the streets grew quieter, and soon they found themselves approaching a house that seemed different from the others. It was old, traditional, with wooden beams and sliding doors, its exterior dark and weathered by time. A few faint lanterns flickered on the porch, casting eerie shadows across the path. Despite its unsettling appearance, there were signs of life—candies scattered in small bowls near the entrance, a soft glow from inside.

Haruto stopped, glancing up at the house and then at Takeshiyama. "Do you think they have candy?"

Takeshiyama narrowed his eyes, feeling a strange sensation in the pit of his stomach. "Only one way to find out."  Together, they walked toward the house, their footsteps echoing on the creaky wooden steps.  As Takeshiyama and Haruto approached the old, traditional house, a chill seemed to settle over the air, colder than before. Wiggly-Woo, hidden beneath the folds of his kimono, stirred slightly against the warmth of Takeshiyama’s skin. The serpent’s presence had been a quiet comfort, but now Takeshiyama could feel the snake’s tension building.

"I don’t like thissssss place", Wiggly-Woo’s voice whispered in his mind, telepathically sending his thoughts in a low, uneasy tone.

Kaito the Oni felt a strange sensation himself, a creeping discomfort that had started when they stepped off the main road and onto the path leading to the old house. He glanced around, suddenly noticing that the street had cleared. Where moments ago the laughter and chatter of families and children echoed, there was now only silence. The candy bowls seemed farther away than they had appeared at first, as though the path had stretched out, drawing them deeper into the quiet garden.

"Where did everyone go?" Haruto asked, his small voice breaking the eerie stillness.

Takeshiyama’s eyes flicked to the boy, then back to the house. The yard around them was a carefully maintained but ancient garden, typical of traditional Tsuki homes. Stone lanterns lined the gravel path, their dim light flickering weakly in the breeze. Moss-covered stones and gnarled trees cast long shadows that seemed to move in ways they shouldn’t. There was a pond to one side, its surface still and black, reflecting nothing of the moonlight above. Every detail, every rustle of the leaves, felt somehow… wrong.  "Keep close," Takeshiyama murmured to Haruto, his voice more serious than before. He felt Wiggly-Woo shift again, his body coiling tighter.

"It’sssss not jusssssst the chill", Wiggly-Woo continued in his mind. "There’s something off here… I ssssensssse ill intent, sssssomething hidden, waiting."

The hair on the back of Takeshiyama’s neck prickled. His own instincts told him to turn back, to leave this strange place behind and take Haruto to safety. But something else kept him walking forward—whether it was the curiosity of what lurked here, or the stubborn part of him that refused to back down from a challenge, he wasn’t sure.

"Do you think there’s candy here?" Haruto asked, oblivious to the growing tension.

Takeshiyama forced a smile, his voice steady. "We’ll see."

As they neared the house, Takeshiyama noticed that the bowls of candy, which had seemed so close before, still appeared far off, sitting on the porch just out of reach. The sense of distance twisted unnaturally in his mind, as if the closer they walked, the farther away they became.  Wiggly-Woo’s voice cut through his thoughts. "Thisssss place is trying to deceive usssss. We sssshould leave."

Takeshiyama paused, his grip tightening on Haruto’s shoulder. The boy looked up at him, confused. "What’s wrong?"

He stared at the house for a long moment, his instincts battling within him. The garden was quiet—too quiet. The lanterns flickered weakly, casting long, distorted shadows across the path. The trees seemed to sway unnaturally, as if caught in a breeze that didn’t exist. And the pond, still and dark, felt like a gaping maw, waiting to swallow anything that got too close.

"Lisssten to me, Kaito", Wiggly-Woo urged. "We need to go. There’sss sssssomething here, ssssomething dangeroussss."

Takeshiyama exhaled slowly, glancing down at Haruto, who looked up at him expectantly, the excitement of the festival still gleaming in his young eyes. His own unease grew stronger, but he couldn’t ignore the boy’s innocent hope.  The fact the snake had used his given name, something he rarely did didn't help.  "Alright," he finally said, "let’s take one more look at the candy, and then we’ll head back."  Haruto nodded eagerly, and they took another step toward the porch. But the path felt like it stretched again, the house looming larger and darker with every step. Takeshiyama’s heart pounded in his chest, a feeling of dread settling deep in his bones.  Wiggly-Woo hissed within his mind.  Just as they reached the base of the porch steps, the wind picked up, rustling the trees with an unnatural groan. Takeshiyama’s senses screamed at him to leave, to protect the boy, and even though he wasn’t sure what was behind this strange place, he knew Wiggly-Woo was right.

He placed a firm hand on Haruto’s shoulder. "Let’s go."

Haruto blinked in surprise, glancing at the candy bowls that still sat just out of reach. "But we’re so close."

Takeshiyama forced a calm smile, though the tension in his voice betrayed his concern. "We’ll get better candy somewhere else. Come on."  The boy hesitated but nodded, trusting the sumo’s judgment. They turned, and the eerie silence of the garden seemed to shift around them, as though the very air was watching them leave. Wiggly-Woo coiled tighter, his presence heavy against Takeshiyama’s skin, as if bracing for something that might follow.

As they walked back toward the village, the street slowly came back into view, filled once again with people, laughter, and the warmth of the festival. But the strange house lingered in Takeshiyama’s thoughts, a dark presence in the back of his mind. Something about that place had been… wrong.

"Good call", Wiggly-Woo’s voice whispered, the tension in his tone fading slightly.  The snake relaxing and edging back to sleep

Takeshiyama nodded, glancing down at Haruto, who had already forgotten the unsettling moment and was happily holding his bag of candy. The sumo’s thoughts, however, remained on the darkness they had left behind.  There was more to that house than met the eye. And whatever it was, Takeshiyama knew they had only just scratched the surface of its mystery.  Still, that was not his concern tonight.  Taking the boy home, he would be greeted by the graciousness of the family before bowing out despite the sleepy protests of the young boy.  Walking towards his own home, he took a detour, taking in the house that had so thoroughly spooked his pet and himself, the windows seemed to watch back as he did.  Not tonight...but he could feel that soon enough he would find himself in there....and it was doubtful he would find it pleasant.

Exit

TWC - 3578

Rewards

1.5k to Black Swamp completing it.  Previous training Here

2k towards mastering Willow Canon for speed

1000+2500+5000 = 8,500 ryo from missions + 4kx3 for rank = 20,500 total + 111,375 = Takeshiyama new ryo total = 131,875
+42 AP to Wiggly-Woo for missions (5+12+25)
+35 Fall Fest Tickets
+ 1 Festival Poster

Takeshiyama wrote:

Mission Details:

Exit

TWC - 3578

Rewards

1.5k to Black Swamp completing it.  Previous training Here

2k towards mastering Willow Canon for speed

1000+2500+5000 = 8,500 ryo from missions + 4kx3 for rank = 20,500 total + 111,375 = Takeshiyama new ryo total = 131,875
+42 AP to Wiggly-Woo for missions (5+12+25)
+35 Fall Fest Tickets
+ 1 Festival Poster

Approved