Zoro
"Hachiman-sama…?"
"The hell are you babbling, you dirty son of a bitch?"
The despair on his face vanished — but the madness in his eyes hadn't gone anywhere. If anything, it had gotten considerably worse.
"Hachiman-sama, it's really you!"
He threw himself to the ground, bowing so deeply his forehead scraped the alley floor.
"I'm so grateful you answered my call! I really thought I was going to die!"
Teary voice, overflowing with gratitude and something close to total submission. He was addressing a god — or at least something he'd decided was one the moment the cursed spirit split in two.
Needless to say, the situation was deeply uncomfortable.
*What the hell is this idiot doing?*
"Cut the crap and lift your head."
"I wouldn't dare, my lord. Looking a Kami in the eyes would be a grave disrespect."
The headache arrived quickly. For a brief, genuine moment, finishing what the cursed spirit had started seemed like a reasonable option.
'Calm down. He's just a panicking idiot. No need to shove Wado Ichimonji up his ass. Calm down.'
Something wasn't adding up though. Of all the things to shout — why Hachiman specifically?
'Hachiman… heard that name somewhere before.'
Running back through everything he'd said — "Kami", "Hachiman" — and then it clicked.
'Wait. He's talking about Hachiman. The Shinto god of war.'
Hachiman — "God of Eight Banners" — Shinto deity of war and culture, protector of Japan and the imperial family. Some Buddhists even considered him a manifestation of Shakyamuni. Usually depicted as a Buddhist monk, his symbols a bow and arrows, the physical embodiment of his warlike nature.
How does one know all this? Hardcore Japan fan. The research got done at some point in the old life.
And Hachiman is especially venerated by samurai. And by—
'Yakuza.'
Another look at the man still prostrated on the ground. Still trembling — but Observation Haki made the nature of it clear immediately. Not fear. Something closer to ecstasy. He was shaking the way a man shakes when he genuinely believes his god has descended from the sky and is standing three meters in front of him.
'In a certain light that tracks. But it's still completely insane. And I don't even use a bow.'
"You've got the wrong person, micro-brain. I'm not Hachiman."
"What are you saying, my lord? Are you feeling well?"
That comment landed badly.
'He's refusing to understand on purpose.'
"I said I'm not Hachiman. Stop calling me 'lord' and get on your feet so we can talk like two civilized people."
One more refusal away from completely losing it.
"I'm not sure I understand, Hachi—"
"HOW MANY TIMES DO I HAVE TO SAY I'M NOT HACHIMAN, YOU ABSOLUTE IDIOT?! NOW GET UP BEFORE I MAKE SURE YOU NEVER CAN AGAIN!"
Even delivered through a five-year-old's voice, the threat landed exactly as intended. He was on his feet immediately.
The small assist from a burst of Conqueror's Haki probably contributed. Irrelevant either way.
He stood straight as a soldier who had just realized the full magnitude of a mistake made directly in front of his commanding officer.
A few seconds of silence. Let it breathe — partly for effect, partly because calming down was genuinely necessary.
No exaggeration: he had seriously pissed me off.
The smile came back on its own. "Good." Deliberately light, amused. "Looks like you can hold a proper conversation after all."
"Y-Yes, Lord Hachiman."
The calm evaporated on the spot.
"I JUST SAID I'M NOT HACHIMAN, YOU MORON!"
He flinched hard. Corrected himself immediately.
"Y-Yes, Lord Mister."
Watching a scarred grown man shrink and stammer like a scolded child was a genuinely strange experience.
'Maybe that went too far.'
Then the reminder of who exactly was standing in this alley arrived right on schedule.
'What's wrong with you, Zoro? He's a yakuza. Why would you feel sorry for him?'
"M-Mister?"
His stutter cut back in. The irritation was still there, bleeding openly into the voice.
"What."
"Sorry to bother you but… if you're not Hachiman, then which kami are you?"
"I'm not a kami." Flat. Almost absentminded.
"Then a spirit?"
Same tone. "Not a spirit."
"Then a yokai?"
"Not a yokai."
"Then you—"
"Can you stop with the questions already? I'm a human. Period."
He looked genuinely, deeply shocked. "Really?"
"Really."
"But if you're just a normal human, how did you kill that yokai? Me and every single one of my men couldn't even scratch it."
'There it is. Now the real conversation can actually start.'
"It wasn't a yokai. Well — it was, sort of. It's complicated." A hand went to the back of the head, already anticipating exactly how long this explanation was going to take.
"Come with me."
Started walking. No footsteps followed.
"Follow me. I'll explain on the way."
That startled him back into motion.
"Huh? Ah — o-okay!"
Down through the alley, his footsteps eventually falling into step behind.
"Where to start." Not really a question — just thinking out loud.
"Um… if I may ask… WHAT WAS THAT MONSTER?!"
"Starting there? You're really impatient."
Kept walking toward the street where Toji and the gear were waiting.
"It was a cursed spirit."
"A cursed spirit?"
"Every year, thousands of unexplained deaths happen across Japan. The majority of them are caused by cursed spirits."
"That many? But how come nobody knows about them?"
"Shut up, I'm getting there."
Around a corner. He followed without hesitation now.
"Cursed spirits are born from concentrated negative emotions. Fear, anger, shame, grief — all of it produces cursed energy, and cursed spirits are what that energy eventually becomes when it gathers and condenses. They swarm in disaster zones, crowded urban areas, anywhere that negative emotion runs deep and builds over time. They've existed for a very long time. A significant portion of yokai legends trace directly back to encounters with them."
"But if there are that many of them, why does nobody talk about them?"
"Had you ever seen one before tonight?"
The realization hit him visibly. He went quiet.
"Normal people can only perceive cursed spirits when they're on the verge of death. The proximity to dying pushes enough negative emotion through the body to generate cursed energy temporarily — enough to make the invisible visible. The rest of the time, they're completely hidden from the world."
"I — that actually makes sense." Then his eyes went wide. "Wait. You killed it in one hit. You clearly weren't in any danger at all. So how did you see it?!"
'Heh. Not as slow as the first impression suggested.'
"Already explained that cursed spirits come from human negative emotions. Now — what would happen if certain humans could generate large amounts of cursed energy and learn to control it deliberately?"
The conclusion arrived quickly on his end.
"You're saying part of the population can see and fight them? And that's what you are?"
"On both counts — yes. They're called jujutsu sorcerers. Their responsibility is eliminating cursed spirits while keeping their existence hidden from the general population. Because if ordinary people learned the truth, the panic would generate even more cursed energy. And even more spirits."
He went quiet for a moment, processing.
"That makes sense… if people found out there were invisible monsters living everywhere across Japan, the whole country would spiral into fear. More fear means more of those things."
'Smarter than expected. Genuinely.'
The basic framework of jujutsu got laid out from there — surface level only, nothing too detailed, nothing that created more problems than it solved.
After a while, the street came back into view. Toji still asleep in the trailer, belongings exactly where they'd been left.
'Time for the part that actually matters.'
Up onto the bike.
"Good. Now that all that's settled — time to discuss compensation."
"Compensation?"
"You didn't actually think I did this out of charity, did you?"