The air in Tokyo in June was thick and damp, carrying a faint, mossy tang that crept into everyone's nose, like the aftertaste of devouring a huge plate of green shrimp with tiramisu and feeling it rise back up from your stomach the next day.
Human negativity usually begins to flare up in spring, and this sluggish, mud-soaked season is exactly when Cursed Spirits are at their most active...
Mahito walked into the tunnel beneath a bridge and casually turned a snoring homeless man inside into a "broom," gripping him in hand as he began sweeping away the scattered trash.
"Sigh, it turned into a stick again. I tried pretty hard this time, but it's still not neat, inside or out. I'm not skilled enough at manipulating souls yet...
Next time I'll be more precise. Maybe I can use hair together with skin to make the front softer..."
"Why are you cleaning here?"
Saishū walked over, watching Mahito tidy up the space beneath the bridge.
"I'm thinking of living here for a while~"
"Why?"
"Just a feeling. A place to live should be comfortable, right?
Are you staying here too? Or going back?"
Saishū moved to the wall nearby and crouched down without answering him.
Mahito shook his head and continued his grand cleaning effort.
Empty cans, used tissues, smelly socks, half a box of natto rice, old torn bags...
"Hm?"
As he swept at one of the bags with his "broom," it twitched.
"Alive?"
Mahito crouched down for a closer look.
"It really does have the shape of a soul~~"
As he murmured, the bag wriggled again. An elderly man, his age impossible to tell after so long without washing, slowly turned over.
No, "looked" wasn't quite accurate. The old man had nothing left but empty eye sockets.
Seeing him turn around, Mahito felt a flicker of irritation, like spotting a woodlouse or a cockroach in a room you just finished cleaning.
"What a hassle. Still, I could try out a new idea with this soul~ Or maybe shrink it down and store it? A transparent, glass-like soul is a first for me~"
Before he could decide, the wandering old man suddenly spoke.
"If I've made you uncomfortable, I'm sorry..."
"Hm?"
"From your voice, you sound like a child. I don't know why you're here, but seeing an old wreck like me must be unpleasant.
Still, I don't have anywhere else to go..."
Mahito lowered his hand and crouched in front of him.
He didn't care about what the old man was saying. What puzzled him was why this person could perceive him at all.
No, that wasn't it. The man didn't emit even the slightest trace of Cursed Energy. Earlier, even with Saishū beside him, neither of them had noticed anyone else here.
"You can see me?"
"No. I can't see your appearance or your clothes. As you can tell, I'm just a blind old man..."
"Then are you a Jujutsu Sorcerer?"
"I've never heard of such a thing. I don't think I am..."
"You don't even understand your own condition?"
"To be honest, ever since I started wandering, my affairs have had nothing to do with me anymore..."
As they talked and he continued observing, Mahito grew more and more interested in the old man. He could perceive the state of souls.
Some souls were like skin-covered clay, constantly seeping sweat that squeezed out between your fingers with the slightest pressure. Others were like hearts, beating nonstop, even spurting out secreted "blood"...
But this old man's soul had no metabolism at all. It was like a pond without fish, an ocean without waves, a sky without clouds.
Just as Saishū had once said, this person's soul was merely a phenomenon. Like the trash Mahito had casually swept aside earlier, it remained unchanged as long as you didn't touch it.
No wonder he hadn't noticed him before. With no soul secretion and no emotional activity in the body, there was naturally no Cursed Energy produced.
Mahito gave a small shake of his head, stepped outside, casually turned two passersby into "hammocks," and returned beneath the bridge.
...
And so Mahito began living there. He would often head out to a nearby cinema to watch a movie for a while, then stop by a bookstore to "buy" a few books. After that, he would stroll back at his leisure, lie in his hammock, and quietly take in new knowledge.
Saishū remained crouched there without moving, all four faces staring blankly at the old man across from him.
Mahito didn't get rid of the old man, probably because he was too quiet. Aside from occasionally going out to scavenge for food, he simply sat there. He was quieter than a stray cat.
"Does this really count as living?"
"Perhaps."
"Aren't you bored?"
"I might have been, once. But now I've forgotten what boredom feels like."
"Then besides sitting here, what else do you do?"
"I listen to the sound of the water flowing under the bridge."
"Is that fun?"
"Maybe not. But I've already forgotten what happiness feels like, so there's nothing to trouble me either."
"Why live here like a rat?"
"Because my wife and an old friend burned out my eyes together. Then, under the pretense of taking care of me, they took my rights and my wealth as well."
When the old man spoke about his past, his voice didn't waver in the slightest. It was as calm as someone telling a child a bedtime story. If it were a bedtime story, though, it would be the kind that leaves you unsettled.
"That's awful. And yet you talk about it like it happened to someone else."
"They loved each other. No one loved me. Realizing that mattered more to me than anything else."
"I don't get it. Don't you want to curse them?"
"It doesn't matter."
At those words, Saishū slowly lifted his head and glanced at the old man.
Mahito still couldn't understand.
"That's strange. In a situation like that, shouldn't a person be furious? Full of hatred? Even bringing it up should warp the shape of their soul, shouldn't it?"
"Perhaps... I simply no longer have the strength to think about those things."
"I see."
Unlike the souls outside, swollen and distorted by negative emotions, the old man's soul was thin and fragile. Yet in Mahito's eyes, it felt incredibly light.
Mahito's interest in him reached a level he had never experienced before. This was the first time he had encountered someone like this. With so few examples to compare, he couldn't even tell whether this case was unique.
"If everyone were like you, maybe I wouldn't have been born at all."