Time flowed swiftly.
The life of a jujutsu sorcerer was like this—so long as exorcisms were treated as clocking in for work, it was no different from that of an ordinary person.
When there were no missions, time passed quickly. Just like holidays, it always vanished in the blink of an eye. Taking off his work badge was no different from an office worker loosening a tie.
Another year, another new student enrollment season.
But this had little to do with Minamoto Soujun.
Mishima Shiko, however, was interested. When freshmen met her, they would bow and greet her with "Good day, senpai."
She still held a kind of collective pride toward Jujutsu High.
From her, Soujun learned that this year's freshman class had only two students once again.
Every year, the numbers were like this, making one wonder if someday Jujutsu High would simply die out. Those born with the talent for sorcery were far too few.
Soujun stood barefoot in his living room, black hair loose, chest bare.
At the center of his chest was a dark silver mirror-like mark, a black circular pattern right at the sternum. Extending from it were twisted, sword-tip shaped protrusions—three up, three down, one to each side—radiating in eight directions. Short, jagged lines also spread along his muscles like veins.
The locust-headed curse had already been assimilated, stored within his body.
The arrangement of these sigils, the patterns they formed, and the Flyhead-sized talismans each held meaning; none were mere decoration. Soujun had aligned them according to the specifications of barrier arts.
For now, the number of assimilated curses was limited, so the barrier they formed offered only weak isolation and defense.
Better than nothing.
At least he didn't need an umbrella in the rain, and he no longer worried about dirt clinging to him when walking outside.
He studied the sigils carefully, adjusted several of the line structures, and a flash of black light passed over them, leaving a heavier aura.
Soujun nodded in satisfaction. Bit by bit, the barrier grew stronger. In time, it would certainly prove invaluable.
He threw on an outer garment to hide the sigils, slipped into a pair of slippers, and strolled out of the loft.
He was going to see Yaga Masamichi.
…
"I'm ready to be promoted to Grade 1 sorcerer," Soujun said bluntly, sipping his tea before setting the cup down lightly.
Yaga showed no surprise. He poured himself a cup, fetched a cloth to wipe away the water stains on the table, then returned to his seat.
He too drank, setting the cup down with quiet grace.
"You should have applied long ago. What I don't understand is why you waited until now."
Of course, it was because Soujun valued solid foundations, striving for comprehensive growth. His standards for himself were higher and stricter than anyone else's.
But Yaga did not wait for an answer—this question did not require one.
He rummaged briefly through a drawer, then produced two envelopes. "For promotion, a sorcerer must be recommended by at least two Grade 1 or higher sorcerers. Their qualifications are then verified through several missions before the promotion can be granted."
"The recommendation letters, I've already prepared."
He raised the envelopes and handed them to Soujun. "Your mission record also basically meets the standards."
Basically? Meaning something was still missing?
Soujun arched a brow, opening the envelopes. One recommendation was, naturally, from Yaga himself. The other was from… Rokujoshi Yoshinobu?
Oh? The guitar geezer.
Soujun was quite interested in that man's technique.
Though Tokyo and Kyoto Jujutsu High had their own divisions, they were still part of the same system. For a Tokyo sorcerer like Soujun to have a Kyoto sorcerer as recommender was entirely reasonable.
He pocketed the letters without a word, sipping his tea. Yaga did the same. The two sat opposite one another, neither looking at the other.
After a cup of tea, it was Yaga who spoke first. "I have an urgent mission…"
I win.
Soujun's lips curved, earning him a dangerous look.
Yaga's words stalled, veins rising on his brow. With a shake of his head, he continued.
"A senior student went to Shizuoka for a mission. She hasn't reported in for two days."
"So you want me to back her up?" Soujun was curious. Yaga rarely interfered with him, much less assigned him missions.
"No. The second-years I supervise already went to support her…" Yaga trailed off, as though the next words were difficult.
"So it's dangerous? Not enough manpower?" Soujun sighed. This roundabout way of talking was exhausting.
"The mission itself isn't difficult. But those brats left their assistant supervisor behind, and I know they'll forget to submit their report. So…"
"So I'm just going as backup, and once I return, I'll be promoted to Grade 1?" Soujun's eyes narrowed.
That simple? If Yaga himself hadn't told him, Soujun would've suspected another scheme from the school's higher-ups.
"We have to keep up appearances. Will you take it or not?" Yaga asked, irritation seeping through.
See? You're the one who lost patience.
Soujun drained his tea in one gulp and sat upright. Auxiliary work? He excelled at it.
"I'll take this mission."
"You'll need to arrive before the second-years. But they left half an hour ago." Yaga paused, drank again, and added softly:
"Which means you don't have much time."
Soujun rose and walked out without another glance. Some decision had already settled within him.
Before he crossed the threshold, Yaga called loudly after him: "And wear your uniform this time!"
…
Hamamatsu City, Shizuoka Prefecture. The sky was heavy with clouds.
Inside a Western-style mansion rumored to be haunted—
"When is this hallway going to end?" muttered a black-haired girl in a shrine maiden's outfit. She stood to the side, scowling impatiently as she glanced about.
The hallway stretched endlessly into darkness, with doors on either side shut tight. Silence pressed in.
Her words echoed through the corridor, warping as they bounced back, as if something in the dark whispered in reply. She shivered, shoulders hunching, fear gnawing at her as her eyes darted unwillingly into the black.
Beside her stood a mature woman with silvery-white hair, clad in the long dark-purple dress and black shirt of an assistant supervisor's uniform. Cinched waist, tie, and high-heeled boots gave her an elegant air.
Lifting her wrist, she checked her watch. "We've been walking for about thirty minutes," she calculated silently. "That's around fifteen kilometers. And still no signs or markers along the way…"
…
Soujun went to Mishima Shiko, explained his assignment, and took her car keys.
Promotion missions had to be completed alone. He left her behind with a twisted expression and headed out.
At the school gates, he found the black sedan waiting at the roadside.
There's a first time for everything—and countless times thereafter. Crossdressing had been like that, and now, so was driving without a license.
In fact, his work badge could serve as a driver's license—something he had only recently learned.
Sliding into the driver's seat, Soujun started the engine and flicked on the music.
I got no impression
This town is made by imitation
Wanting your sensation
He floored the accelerator, feeling the engine roar, the car surge forward, the music pounding in his ears.
So this is why Shiko loved speeding.
Urgency? Time constraints?
The thrill was intoxicating.
…
The silver-haired woman's lips curved as she analyzed:
"It seems the barrier inside this mansion isn't ring-shaped, but rather a shifting patchwork that adjusts to our movement."
"Otherwise it would have to be an endless large-scale barrier, right?" said the shrine maiden. Such a possibility was absurd, far beyond the scope of this mission.
"Perhaps. The odds are slim." The silver-haired woman pressed a finger against the wall, which warped under her touch.
The shrine maiden followed suit, feeling soft elasticity—like touching human skin.
They exchanged a glance, and the girl shuddered.
…
Soujun's body trembled, though his hands on the wheel were steady as iron.
The sky began to drizzle.
He rolled down the window. Raindrops blew in, cooling his face.
Cars blurred past as he sped on, music thundering.
A sorcerer's technique, applied to highway racing—it was perfect. He wasn't forcing his body to react. Adrenaline had already taken over.
…
"The walls can't be destroyed. Let's split up," said the silver-haired woman after feeling the structure again.
"Seems patchwork is the most likely. If we split and move quickly in irregular patterns, the curse's barrier might fail to keep up. Once one of us escapes, we can strike from outside or call for support."
The shrine maiden nodded. "Good plan. Let's try it."
They bent their knees, preparing. The silver-haired woman lifted a finger.
"Ready—"
"One, two, three—run!"
…
A sharp drift slowed the black sedan, which screeched to a halt at the roadside.
Soujun had arrived.
He stepped out, eyeing the intact mansion before him.
Looks like I made it in time.
Forming a sword-hand seal, he intoned: "Born of shadow, darker than black, filth and corruption—be cleansed and exorcised."
Buzz.
A half-dome barrier spread over the mansion, then vanished into invisibility.
Boom!
Almost instantly, a loud crash erupted from inside, followed by a shrill scream.
The outer wall burst open. The shrine maiden tumbled out, landing hard.
The building collapsed from top to bottom, rubble crashing down. She staggered, fell among the debris.
Only then did a man with white hair and sunglasses stroll into view, hands in his pockets. "We've come to save you~."
Leaning close, he peered at her face. "Huh—Utahime, are you crying?"
"I'm not crying!" she snapped, veins rising on her temple. "And show respect to your senpai!!"
"If you were crying, would you comfort us?" teased the silver-haired woman as she landed gracefully.
"Miss Mei Mei wouldn't cry. She's too strong," Utahime muttered.
"Fufufu, is that so?" Mei Mei covered her mouth with a laugh.
"Gojo!! I didn't need you to save me!" Utahime shouted, pointing at him.
Before she could finish, rubble shifted behind her.
A grotesque curse emerged—its form like a giant finger with a skull face at the tip, and another face in its belly. Massive arms hauled its body free, looming over Utahime.
Its shadow swallowed her in darkness. The muttering whispers behind her made her stiffen. Turning, she saw the curse's bloody maw opening to devour her.
Then—
Rustle, rustle.
A massive worm curse burst out from below, biting the giant curse in half.
"Don't swallow it. I still need to capture it." A sly man with fox-like eyes and odd bangs stepped forward. Clearly, the worm was his puppet.
"Picking on the weak isn't a good look, Gojo," he added.
"Who'd be stupid enough to pick on the strong?" Gojo spread his hands. "You're the one stirring trouble, Geto."
"Utahime-senpai, are you okay?" Another girl appeared—short-haired, with a beauty mark under her eye. She waved cheerfully. "We haven't heard from you in two days. I was so worried!"
At last, Utahime came to her senses. Tears pricked her eyes as she threw herself into the girl's arms. "Shoko! Don't you dare end up like those two!!"
"Haha, don't worry. I won't turn into that kind of scum," Shoko Ieri laughed.
"Two days? Then the curse barrier must distort time," Gojo mused, glancing at Mei Mei. "I thought it odd, since you were here too."
"Seems so. But—where's your report?" Mei Mei asked, her assistant supervisor's tone cutting sharp.
The group fell into awkward silence.
…
Soujun stood on the roadside, watching the curse crawl out only to be devoured.
He walked up to the worm, glanced once, and tapped a fist lightly against its belly.
Gag.
The worm gagged and vomited the mission's target curse back out.
The curse scrambled to flee—but Soujun's kick floored it. Planting a boot on its belly-face, he pinned it to the ground.
It struggled, but couldn't break free.
Soujun let his hair loose. A crimson thread shot from his locks, piercing the curse's skull.
Scarlet light flared, accompanied by the sound of chewing.
The curse's body stilled. Its lips curved into a grotesque smile. Slowly, its body reshaped into a humanoid form, though the skull face remained.
Soujun stretched lazily, brushing his hair back to reveal sharp, predatory eyes. "Come on. Show me your barrier."
Buzz.
In an instant, he stood in a dark corridor. He knew at once—he was inside the curse's barrier.
He walked a few steps, feeling the walls.
Hm?
No time or space distortion.
Just sensory interference?
"Tch. Better than nothing."
Snap.
He clicked his fingers, and the barrier shattered.
Soujun slid his hands into his sleeves. His collar had slipped down, baring his chest.
The uniform was made of material resistant to cursed energy. Worn by Soujun, it was wasted. The one time he wore it, he couldn't even wear it properly.
He pressed a hand to the curse. Black vapor flowed up, etching an abstract skull pattern into his skin. A broken line of his sigils completed itself.
…
"Hey, you there. Naked guy."
Utahime, still clutching Shoko, turned to look at the stranger who had appeared.
Soujun pointed at himself. Me?
"Yes, you. Naked guy. Who the hell are you?" Gojo added.
Soujun regarded them all. Yaga's hesitation earlier made sense now. Clearly, his "students" were all peculiar.
Ku ku ku…
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