Haruki pressed his cigarette into the concrete railing of the second story of the parking garage. The embers on its end smothered as he exhaled the last bit of smoke. It was a bit chilly with the sub-sixty-degree weather but it didn't get in the way of his smoke break.
It was about the only normal thing he had left. After Halloween, everything was turned on its head. Haruki along with a few of his friends had gained superpowers and were thrust into a battle royal style tournament of some sort.
That was only about a week ago now. In that time, they'd been able to carve out a small piece of Kagoshima for themselves. Haruki wasn't the violent type and if it were up to him, he'd prefer to dig in and try to wait out whatever this was. But it wasn't up to him.
Ichiro was. His former best friend. He could barely recognize him after the change. He'd become power-hungry, and violent. Not that he didn't already have enough power. His power was much better than Haruki's and it was clear who would come out on top if Haruki tried to push back on his colony-conquering designs.
Haruki turned back toward the center of the parking garage and began walking to the metal door, which led to the only way to the now heavily armed and brigaded top floor. He stopped when he fully turned toward it and got a good look. He raised a brow in confusion. He was sure he'd closed it when he came out.
Walking towards it with his guard up, even activating his superpower, which involved summoning a small firebird that could slam into things with a good amount of force, he didn't see any movement—until he saw a lot of movement all at once. He wasn't even able to fight back or realize how he'd been defeated. All he saw was a flash of white before everything turned black.
——
Isamu took out another throwing knife tipped with a purple liquid before throwing it swiftly and effortlessly into the thigh of one of the handful of "sorcerers" calling the parking garage a fortress. The man stumbled before falling, completely unconscious. Shoko's sedative doing wonders.
Isamu walked quietly through the path between tents which seemed to make a small homeless shelter on the roof of the parking garage, not really caring if someone saw him but he still put in some effort to at least take them by surprise if they did. It took some getting used to. His newfound cursed energy reserves that it.
Isamu was far from unsatisfied with the turn of events, even if he despised how he'd gained the ability. A massive amount of cursed energy about 50% greater than Yuta's historic amounts could be quite convenient if Isamu wanted to downplay it. But it did have some done sides.
It reminded him of medieval armor. Having a good set of armor was good in most places but it made sneaking around a bitch. Any half-decent sorcerer would sniff him out in a heartbeat, especially if he was half-assing the stealth attempt like he was at that moment. But it didn't matter how load your armor was if you were raiding a fortress of the deft.
Isamu threw a knife to his side without looking, striking a man in the back of his hand which was reaching for a walky-talky of some kind. He blinked a single time before falling over, Isamu continuing his path towards the largest tent. His senses told him there was no one left outside.
With nothing to knock on, Isamu just split the tent flaps and walked in like he owned the place. His eyes scanned the room without much worry or expectation. He found a man sitting at a folding table, seated in a padded folding chair. A map of Kagoshima was laid out before him. To either side of him were two guards.
Isamu grabbed two knives from behind his back, gripping each between two fingers before flicking them at both subordinates. They each clutched at the knives sticking out of their biceps for a moment before falling forward, bringing the table down with them as they did.
The main man looked up startled by the encounter which only took a second to end. He was taller than average, around Isamu's height. He was scruffy and older by a fair bit though. He reached for a spear located at the wall of the tent. The spear was probably the only item in the entire base worth more than two hundred dollars if you didn't count the tents.
Isamu reached for a throwing knife, only to find he was out. He sighed in mild annoyance as he unsheathed Maya, his short blade. He spun it in his hand so the blunt edge of the blade was the one he'd be striking with as the man charged him, no questions asked.
Isamu flicked his hand, directing the tip of the spear away from him as he raised Maya. Only to be surprised when the man quickly recovered and got into his stance once more, too fast for Isamu to find an opening. Not that he was really trying to. They "exchanged" a few more blows before Isamu realized what he was facing.
The man said he'd give raises to two types of sorcerers. The first was the kind Isamu had been taking down until now. People with cursed techniques but without the brain to use them, are now transfigured into proper sorcerers. The second was the kind Isamu now faced. The reincarnation of past sorcerers which the man had turned into cursed objects, similar to the fingers of the king of curses.
The first hint was his skill with the spear. It was far superior to anything he would expect to see from a sorcerer not even a week into their power. The second was his ability to manipulate cursed energy. Like the first, it was at a much higher level than you'd think. The third and final hint was the look in his eyes. The murderous intent paired with power-hungry gluttony.
Isamu knew the look well. He'd seen it in a shattered piece of glass in Shibuya. Without much thought, Maya was turned around in his hand and the man's head was severed. Looking down at the shocked look on the severed head rolling across the floor, Isamu gritted his teeth, regretting his instinctual action. Turning away, he added the civilian who served as the reincarnation's base to the list of souls he would mourn when everything settled.
——
Kenjaku stepped into the large temple high in the mountains of Japan. The temple was unmistakably Buddhist in nature but some of its past splendor was lost to time and the elements. Still, the wood held strong and the stones were tough and solid. It was a miracle something like this could go undiscovered and undamaged for over one thousand years.
Not that it was much of a surprise to Kenjaku. It was his barrier that'd preserved it for so long after all. One of the many concessions he'd made with the only resident. He walked through the halls calmly and with no hint of his intentions clear in his face.
After a while of walking through the overgrown temple, Kenjaku arrived at two massive wooden doors. About three times his height and two wing spans wide. He pushed the redwood doors open with relative ease, the hinges working as if they'd been installed the very same day.
Upon entering the room, his eyes met a giant golden Buddha statue, his legs crossed and his hand raised as usual. Kneeling at his feet in prayer sat the man he'd come all this way to speak to. The man he'd jumped through hoops to get to agree to transform himself into a cursed object and transverse the ages.
The Vanishing General, Akira Bushida. The first Void General. Not the first chronically, no, he was the first among the generals when it came to the most important thing during the Heian era. What some would call the only important thing, power.
Kenjaku just stood, his arms folded into his large sleeves as he waited for him the finish, like he'd waited on him for what felt like forever. His armor was that of a Japanese military general of very high standing. Completely black with golden outlines and engravings. Atop his helm were two golden antlers and lying horizontally in front of him was a black Naginata.
It, too, was outlined in gold. A simple yet powerful sign of standing. Of office. Of power. It communicated clearly who was in charge among the Void Generals. Its blade was silver and appeared to be coming out of the mouth of a black dragon with golden eyes, or perhaps it was being consumed by it.
The shaft of the weapon was perhaps the most striking part. Or, rather, the part that stood out the most. For it betrayed the put-together, perfectly maintained look of his armor and Naginata. For there were 34 notches near the top of the shaft.
The man's form was large but not overly so. His strength came from dense, wiry muscles as opposed to the large, hulking frames of some men. If anything, he looked lanky, if only a little.
"What do you want, Kenjaku?" The man said gruffly after a moment longer of prayer. Kenjaku's ever-present smirk quirked at the bluntness of the man's question.
"Put bluntly," Kenjaku began, knowing he wouldn't be able to outsmart this man with honey-slicked words and a silver tongue. "I want you to handle a thorn in my side. Rather, to dedicate a few of your men to the problem."
"A few? This thorn is so great they require multiple of my men to deal with him?" The man questioned, his words calm and knowing.
"He is. He took on multiple powerful special-grade cursed spirits a week ago and he's grown even more powerful since then. I wouldn't underestimate him." Kenjaku responded.
"Even so, you would have the power to defeat him. Especially since you've sent Kouki on a goose chase to distract his allies." Akira responded, a hint of annoyance leaking into his voice. Kenjaku raised a brow at this but didn't speak.
"Yet you ask for help. Not from me or one of my men, but from multiple of my men through me." After a long moment of silence, Akira finished his thoughts. "I will lend you a single General. My second, Takumi Ranto, will cut down your thorn."
Kenjaku's smirk fell at that. He exhaled from his nose as his fingers fidgeted under his robes. He considered many things at that moment, including whether he should speak or not and what exactly he would say. But after a while, he decided against it. Nothing good would come from it, and it seemed the General was no longer listening. He was back to prayer.
Kenjaku turned and left, walking a little faster than he was when he was entering. His ever-present smirk was now gone entirely, replaced with an annoyed look. It seemed his plans of nurturing his precious son had hit a snag.
——
Isamu walked the streets of Kagoshima, his senses extended as far as possible to sense any potential sorcerers. He wasn't looking for allies as he knew he was the only one from jujutsu high in Kagoshima. No, he was looking for enemies.
Suddenly, a figure appeared in front of him.
Isamu's eyes widened as he took a step back.
It shouldn't have been possible for the figure to have gotten that close without Isamu sensing them. They would've had to clear the many blocks Isamu's senses spanned before Isamu's brain could register someone had entered the radius. Was it a technique?
The man was old, very old. His hair was as white as Isamu's but had a slightly more silver look. It was long and done up to not get in the way of the man's eyes. His face was covered in wrinkles and his blue robes seemed torn and cheap. Even with this seemingly weak and fragile appearance, when the man's blue eyes clashed with Isamu's violet, Isamu knew he was far from an ordinary old man.
The old man smiled, giving off a grandfatherly presence as he began to speak.
"I apologize for startling you, young man." He said in a warm and gentle voice, "I am Takumi Ranto and you are Isamu Inumaki."
Isamu's eyes grew suspicious as his guard remained tense and ready. He scanned the man over again, this time looking more in detail. For one, he had a sword on his hip. It, too, looked old and worn. The wrappings on the handle were coming apart and barely stuck to the wood. Said wood was indented where one would grip the handle, having been gradually worn down by what must have been decades of use. The man's robes were short-sleeved, revealing the old man's dense and wiry muscles underneath.
"More specifically, I am Takumi Ranto, the Second Void General, some referred to me as the Storming General though I don't really see why. And you are Isamu Inumaki, the Prodigy of the Inumaki Clan, the Son of the Vilest Sorcerer in History as I understand. Though, perhaps, you would like for that title to be left out of our discussion." The man said, speaking casually, almost conversationally.
Isamu didn't respond on account of his assumed fact Takumi couldn't read hand signals. Instead, he shifted his guard a bit.
"Well, that's enough rambling. You Inumaki's never are very talkative. I suppose I should get down to business, no matter how much I despise killing a young talent with potential."
The man's left hand reached for his scabbard, bringing his sword up to meet his right hand. As the man drew his sword, an aura descended upon the battlefield. One of unease and stillness. Something about the plain and simple blade of the swordsman's sword screamed at Isamu. Telling him this man was unbelievably dangerous. Every instinct yelled at him to run.
Isamu's hand shook as he reached for Saraswati, drawing it similarly. He wasn't shaking from fear, but excitement. A smile cracked his face in half as storm clouds began to gather above the two swordsmen.