My Refrigerator Turned Into A Dungeon

Tsukumogami BatTsukumogami.A being said to be a god or spirit inhabiting objects after many years. It’s believed that it takes about 100 years for a tsukumogami to m

Tsukumogami BatTsukumogami.A being said to be a god or spirit inhabiting objects after many years. It’s believed that it takes about 100 years for a tsukumogami to m

Tsukumogami Bat

Tsukumogami.

A being said to be a god or spirit inhabiting objects after many years. It’s believed that it takes about 100 years for a tsukumogami to manifest. Thus, the term is also written as “ninety-nine gods.” Perhaps it signifies completion upon reaching 100 years.

The most famous examples are probably the paper lantern ghost and umbrella ghost depicted in the Hyakki Yagyo scrolls. Over time, objects, living beings, and even natural entities seem to accumulate various emotions.

Tsukumogami embody this idea. And supposedly, when a cat lives long enough, its tail splits, transforming it into a nekomata.

Likewise, Shiotaro, who shares a soul bond with me, could be considered a being close to a tsukumogami inhabiting the substance of salt. Oh, and treasure chest monsters, like mimics in fantasy lore, are basically tsukumogami, aren’t they?

The mention of tsukumogami often conjures images of the Hyakki Yagyo, the great procession of yokai, striking fear into humans. This association might lead people to think of them as inherently harmful.

But that’s only partially true, isn’t it?

If something is neglected, treated roughly, and discarded without gratitude, it’s no surprise that the emotions residing within such an object would harbor ill will toward humans. On the other hand, objects treated with care and maintained diligently shouldn’t develop such negative feelings.

I take pride in lavishing love and care on my motorcycle, the partner I entrust with my life, delivering the exhilarating feeling of unity between man and machine. If my beloved bike were to become a tsukumogami, I’d gladly welcome it with a big hug, saying, “Welcome, partner!”

So, if an object carries such sentiments, it’s best to understand and engage with them. Face them head-on. That’s the right way to go about it.

…

With this in mind, I headed to the batting center, which, fortunately, remained open even after the stampede. As I approached, the sound of balls being hit echoed in my ears. Wrapped in cloth, my Katsuo-kun bat began twitching. It seemed to respond to the sound of balls being struck.

(…Ooooh…Ho~meruuuunn…!)

(Alright, alright. Calm down. If you start acting weird, they’ll mistake you for a monster and won’t let us in.)

The batting center seemed reasonably busy, with customers intently hitting balls thrown by the pitching machines.

(Oooooh! Ho~meruuuunn!!)

(Hey, stop giving off that strange aura. Look, there’s a spot open over there. Let’s head there.)

I secured the second stall from the right and inserted some coins. Standing in the left batter’s box, I prepared for the incoming pitch.

(Whoa, this is hard to swing!)

(Noooo! Ho~meruuuunn!!)

I swung hard at the first pitch and missed entirely.

Hmm… The bat’s too small. As an adult, and a large one at that, using a child’s bat made my chest and arm muscles get in the way, making it impossible to close my stance.

Hmm, unconventional as it may be, I’ll have to swing one-handed.

With that, I hit the second pitch cleanly, the ball making a satisfying sound as it connected. The hit flew straight and pierced a target hanging at the top center of the net.

Ah, that felt great.

From the Katsuo-kun bat in my hand, a dark aura began to rise—wait, what? Or was this the release of pent-up frustration?

(What do you think? Feels good, doesn’t it?)

(Ooooooooh…!!)

It seemed to feel good. In that case, I resolved to hit as many home runs as possible to release all that frustration in bursts of satisfying sound.

…

After enjoying about three games, the sinister aura surrounding Katsuo-kun bat finally dissipated.

The sight of a muscular guy hitting home runs one-handed with a child’s bat drew some attention, but perhaps they thought I was training to fight monsters, as no one paid it much mind.

“Phew, that was a good workout. This kind of fun is nice once in a while.”

I’ve never particularly liked or excelled at baseball, but with my current physical abilities, consecutive home runs are a breeze. After quenching my thirst with a sports drink, I poured some over the Katsuo-kun bat as well.

(Noooo!!)

(Oh, you didn’t like that? My bad.)

Oops. Just when I thought I’d improved its mood, I upset it again. Maybe I should buy some alcohol from the store I saw on the way here. According to old traditions, offering sake is the way to appease gods and yokai alike.

Moving to a different spot, I bought a straw-pack sake and offered it to the Katsuo-kun bat.

(Here, some sake. You guys like this kind of stuff, right?)

(Oooooooh!)

This time, it seemed pleased. Organic-looking tissue extended from the straw, and it began drinking the sake greedily.

With its mood improved, I initiated negotiations. I made it promise never to harm humans, especially Ruha, who frequently uses it. According to the old woman’s tales, agreements are paramount to the existence of yokai.

(Listen carefully: don’t hurt humans, okay? Especially Ruha—never hurt her.)

(So mean… Big sister…)

(That’s not mean, is it? Ruha is a kind older sister who’s popular with kids. Wait, were you abandoned by a baseball-loving boy’s sister?)

(………)

(That’s tough. But don’t worry. You won’t be abandoned again. I’ll even bring you to the batting center sometimes and let you drink sake.)

(Ho…Homeruuun!!)

(Yeah, it’s a promise. So don’t harm Ruha, alright?)

(Homeerruuuunn!!)

And so, the bat I picked up from the trash promised to protect Ruha and became our new companion: the Tsukumogami Bat.

I suppose I’ll just stick with its familiar name—Katsuo.