Sigh.
"Another day, another Doug."
I was in the same car, in the same seat, driven by the same chauffeur, on my way to do the same thing: exterminate.
"What is it this time? A horde of Grade 3 cursed spirits? A Semi-Grade 1? Oh, oh! Maybe it's a curse user who slaughtered an entire fourth-grade class?"
"..."
Of course, he didn't answer me.
In truth, I didn't really need him to; the file would already tell me "everything" I needed to know. I only did it to needle him because he had the face and the attitude of a total prick.
What can I say? I had to kill time somehow. In an era where the internet didn't exist, everything was incredibly boring—aside from training, fighting, and hanging out with Toji.
And stuck in this car, which was itself stuck in a traffic jam without any of those three things to distract me, it went without saying that I was bored out of my mind.
The poor chauffeur—not so poor, actually, judging by the brand-new Rolex I could see on his wrist—couldn't help but grip the steering wheel tighter and tighter as I did my best to annoy him.
I've rarely reached such a high level of ragebait, but unfortunately, we arrived at my mission site.
I stepped out of the car, but I could see the driver ready to bolt immediately. He looked like a racer on the starting grid, and he didn't disappoint. As soon as I closed the door, he floored it to get away as fast as possible.
The scene left me with no reaction other than a whistle. "Whistle! I'd be offended… if I cared at all."
I turned my attention back to the file in my hands and began to skim through it.
"Ha! Turns out I was right. It really was a curse user who massacred a primary school class."
I said it jokingly, but my expression grew darker. I had been forced to do this for two months now.
They didn't even give me time to rest. I'm sure I would have been sent out every single day if it weren't for my injuries. There had been several missions just as dangerous as the first one. And I'm certain I would be dead if it weren't for the three "insurance policies" hanging at my hip.
But even that was manageable.
With all the atrocities I'd witnessed in just two months, I finally understood why Gojo said you had to be a little crazy to be a sorcerer.
"Sā tatakao ka?"(Shall we fight?)
---
That evening
Sigh. "Shit clan, shit mission, everything is shit in this shit life."
I was so exhausted. Not because of that two-bit curse user. In fact, I didn't even need Shusui to take him down; he was Semi-Grade 2 at most, and that was being generous.
But despite his (relative) weakness, he was no less cruel than the others. The flayed, hanging bodies of those children had made me throw up everything I'd eaten.
And all for some bogus ritual, the ins and outs of which I didn't even know—and I was sure he didn't either.
Thirty.
That was the number of kids used to create that pseudo-shikigami—which was closer to a cursed spirit, if you ask me. And it was pathetically weak; its power barely reached Grade 2.
The kicker was that when he showed it to me, he was beaming with pride. He claimed that once he'd impaled me, he'd use me and hundreds of other children to create an even stronger one.
I had already killed during my previous missions—several times, actually—and each time, even knowing what the curse user was trying to do or had done, I felt a spark of guilt. Not for them, obviously; they could all die with their mouths hanging open for all I cared. But for their families or loved ones who, if they actually had any, would have mourned them.
But when I heard him say that, I felt something in my head snap. And I'm sure it was whatever resilience I had left that stopped me from making him die in the most pathetic way possible.
So, after one-cutting his piece-of-shit shikigami, I took my time skinning him while he was still alive, taking the utmost care to keep him breathing as long as possible.
Honestly, I felt no pleasure doing it. But I felt it was the bare minimum I owed those children and their families.
I felt no guilt, remorse, or regret for what I had done, but the mental fatigue was still there. Without the Haki training, it surely would have been worse.
Thus, when I returned to the estate, it was with the firm intention of sleeping to purify my mind.
Sigh. "Another day, another Doug."
Unfortunately, I didn't even have time to get close to the estate before I saw the gates swing open. I saw an unconscious Toji stuffed into a car.
As you can imagine, my plan for a nap was quickly forgotten.
"TOJI!"
I started running to catch the car. I ran as fast as I could, even using my incomplete *Soru* several times to close the distance despite the pain it inflicted on my legs.
But it was no use. The car had already gained too much of a lead, and as if that weren't enough, just as I was about to pass the man who had put Toji in the car, he moved so fast that—with my legs on the verge of giving out—I couldn't dodge, even though I'd seen the blow coming thanks to Observation Haki.
He seized me by the neck and lifted me with one hand. As expected, his entire body was coated in cursed energy.
"Where do you think you're going, you piece of trash?"
I instantly tried to reach for my hip to draw a sword, but before I could, a sharp pain pierced my hand.
When I looked, I saw a katana driven through the back of my hand, exiting through my palm.
"Tsk, tsk, tsk. What do you think you're doing? Trying to pull a weapon on your unit commander? People have died for less than that, you know."
He ripped his sword out brutally, and a guttural groan escaped me.
He shook his head, acting as if he were reprimanding a child who had broken their parents' priceless vase—though with a much more pronounced underlying cruelty and sadism.
I grit my teeth and continued to glare at him.
"Where... did you take my brother... you bastard?" I managed to choke out, my voice muffled by his grip.
"Oh my, you're still going? What am I going to do with you?"
He kept up his little act, and I hoped he would continue. I needed to buy time, and the fact that he was rambling about my upcoming punishment gave me more than enough time for what I intended to do.
I closed my eyes and concentrated on my Haki.
'Take this, asshole. Eat two months of training right in your face.'
But it seemed he was luckier than I thought. Just as I was about to blast him with a wave of Conqueror's Haki at point-blank range—which would have swept away his layer of cursed energy—I felt a monstrous impact on my nose.
The pain shattered my concentration, and my preparation came to nothing.
"Hey, are you listening when I talk to you? Because it doesn't feel like it."
The pain from my broken nose and his tightening grip on my throat made it impossible to answer.
"I tried to be lenient with a little toilet-scraping like you, but it seems you're leaving me no choice."
The playful smile that spread across his lips promised nothing but pain and suffering.
"Don't worry, I'm going to take very good care of you. And don't fret about your brother. If he's even half as tenacious as you, he should pull through, shouldn't he?"
My anger kept rising, and with it, my desire to take this bastard's head.
But alas, even if I were freed from his grasp, defeat was almost certain—unless I managed to land a blow with Enma.
After all, the man in front of me wasn't just anyone. He was miles ahead of the Nobuaki of the future who would become the head of the Kukuru unit.
The man standing before me was currently the strongest sorcerer without an innate technique.
Zen'in Natsugu
He licked his lips and sheathed his sword.
"Don't worry. Even though it's been a while since we used this particular dungeon, I'm sure you'll feel right at home."
An agonizing pain tore through my stomach, and my consciousness slipped away.
'Toji!', was the only thing I could think before blacking out.
Please spasm the power stones