"If there's anything in there that can help you, then I'm glad." Ichiro Hirata stood at the entrance of the shrine, his farewell calm and final. "Stay as long as you like. I'll be going now."
"Sayonara."
It had been three weeks since Suguru Geto first entered this "Peach Blossom Spring." Ichiro had promised to show him the records the very next day, but the busy farming season had delayed them until now, when the last of the harvest was finally secured.
Suguru held two worn, ancient-looking volumes in his hands. He was desperate for answers, and the content immediately captivated him. He was so absorbed that he didn't even register the weight behind Ichiro's choice of words.
"See you later, Ichiro-san," Suguru replied, waving a hand without looking up. His eyes remained glued to the text. So that's it... cursed energy can be utilized like this...
...By sealing a high-grade cursed spirit within a Curtain and extracting its energy, and then supplementing it with the leaked energy of the non-sorcerers within the boundary, one can maintain a Curtain that never decays...
The knowledge recorded here seemed to offer a genuine solution to the problem that had plagued humanity for millennia. The thought flickered through Suguru's mind, but he quickly moved on, turning the page to read more.
As the sun dipped toward the horizon, the light inside the shrine began to fail.
Drunk on the joy of new knowledge, Suguru was forced to close the books and move outside toward the light.
"Something's wrong," he thought. He stood at the shrine entrance, looking out over the village.
Usually, at sunset, the village was a cacophony of sound—children playing, adults chatting. But now, aside from a few stray barks from a dog, there was nothing but silence.
"It's too quiet... there isn't even smoke from the cooking fires. Where is everyone?"
Suddenly, the technical theory from the books collided with the reality of the village. Wait... a Curtain like this requires a powerful, controlled curse as a battery. They don't even have sorcerers here—how could they possibly control one?
His mind was still analyzing, but his body was already moving.
"Cursed Spirit Manipulation!"
He surged his energy, activating his technique. A massive, red-eyed hound with three heads manifested and sprinted into the distance. As it ran, its body split repeatedly. By the time it was a hundred meters away, it had become thirty-two smaller three-headed dogs, fanning out through the village, sniffing the ground as they went.
Soon, one of the smaller hounds found something. It raced back to Suguru and barked twice.
"You found them?" Suguru followed the lead dog as the others raced back, merging into its body.
As he followed the curse, he was shocked to find that not far from the original entrance to the village, there was another black, ink-like Curtain on the ground. It covered a slight mound that appeared to lead underground.
"To think they managed an engineering project of this scale... I wonder how many generations this took," Suguru mused.
Past the Curtain was a spiral staircase leading deep into the earth. Without hesitation, he descended, step by step.
"What are you doing here?"
"I'm sorry, but we can't let you pass." Two young men holding pitchforks blocked his path. They looked barely older than himself, their faces calm but firm.
"Where is Ichiro-san?" As he descended the stairs, Suguru had replayed Ichiro's final "Sayonara" in his head. A cold sense of dread was beginning to settle in his gut.
"You're looking for Ichiro?" The taller of the two gestured for the other to go inside. "Please wait here a moment."
...
"Suguru?" A man of average height and unremarkable features emerged from the doorway. It was Ichiro Hirata. "How did you find this place?"
"I am a sorcerer, remember?" Suguru felt a wave of relief seeing that Ichiro was safe. "What are you doing down here?"
Ichiro's voice was no longer warm; it was stern. "This is a village matter. It has nothing to do with you."
"Please leave. This won't affect you. You can stay in the village as long as you like, provided you leave when your time is up."
Suguru fell silent. Just as Ichiro thought he had convinced the boy and turned to walk away, Suguru spoke up.
"It's about controlling the curse, isn't it?"
"...It seems those books taught you quite a bit. If you understand, then please do not interfere with our work."
"I don't understand how a group of non-sorcerers can make a curse obey them. I just want to see." Suguru made it clear he wasn't going away. "May I?"
"If you insist..." Ichiro gestured for him to follow.
The young guards at the door stood aside, their pitchforks held upright. Suguru followed Ichiro through a series of guarded checkpoints.
What met Suguru's eyes was a sea of tombstones. In the center of the graveyard stood an ancient altar. The entire village was standing silently beneath it, watching the two of them approach.
At the very center of the altar, a wind chime floated in the air, swaying slowly.
"I'm sure you've realized by now that this isn't some paradise where curses aren't born," Ichiro said as they walked. "It is a seal. A cage designed to lock it away."
Suguru followed Ichiro's gaze upward. High above the altar, a figure drifted in the air, its back to the ground. It wore classical robes, and its bare feet had only four toes.
"What... is that?"
The figure emitted no cursed energy, but just looking at its silhouette inspired a crushing sense of pressure. There was no doubt: it was a Special Grade.
"Tamamo-no-Mae. One of the most powerful Imaginary Special Grade Curses," Ichiro explained, stopping before the altar. "As everyone knows, Imaginary Curses never truly die. As long as their legend exists, as long as people fear them, they will be reborn no matter how many times they are slain."
"The true purpose of our ancestors' Curtain was to use this seal to prevent it from ravaging the world."
"And our mission is to guard and reinforce that seal."
Suguru looked at the rows upon rows of tombstones and pieced it together. "Why you?"
His question was abrupt, but Ichiro understood perfectly. "Because I am the oldest person in the village who meets the criteria to use it."
The Wind Chime of Indulgence — Special Grade Cursed Tool.
1. The user must be under forty years of age.
2. Upon use, the tool immediately extracts all memories from the user's brain. The result is instant brain death.
3. Upon activation, it emits a sound that forces the target to "indulge" in their past. It only affects the target designated by the user. Even a Special Grade Curse cannot ignore its effects.
"Under normal circumstances, one person must use the tool every ten years to reinforce the control over it."
Suguru looked at the hundreds of tombstones. "Under normal circumstances?"
"Regrettably, the tool's effect is weakening. Perhaps it is adapting." Ichiro was prepared to give his life, yet he showed no sadness. He even managed a small joke. "Or perhaps it has simply run out of memories to indulge in. It has been nearly a thousand years, after all."
"How long have the recent intervals been?" Suguru pressed.
"The time before last was one year. The last time was six months ago." Ichiro scanned the crowd of villagers. "With our current population, we can still hold out for a long time."
"Aren't you afraid?" Suguru couldn't fathom the man's perspective.
"Afraid? Maybe. But mostly I feel regret... that I won't see my son grow up," Ichiro answered. "Everyone has a reason for being in this world. A man like me, with no talents for anything... I never really understood mine."
"To be able to sacrifice myself one day to save other lives... I think that might be the meaning the gods gave me for being born."
"A curse of this level was top-tier even in the Heian era. I don't think any sorcerer could guarantee a win against it, and even if they did, it would just come back."
His voice wasn't filled with dramatic resolve; he spoke as if discussing a mundane chore. "It only requires my life—an ordinary, unremarkable life—to prevent the deaths of more 'useful' sorcerers. By doing so, I save even more lives."
"This is the Grand Cause (Deyi)."
How could a non-sorcerer face death with such serenity? Suguru was shaken to his core.
He looked at the people surrounding the altar. They were the exact polar opposite of the ugliness he had seen in the Star Religious Group. Every person's eyes were calm, filled with a quiet, steady strength.
Those hundreds of tombstones told their story. Without fear of death, these non-sorcerers had spent generations guarding this place with their lives. Using only their mortal bodies, they had kept a Special Grade Curse imprisoned for a thousand years.
Until now, their story had been unknown to the world.
But now, he knew.
"Heh... Ichiro-san, don't look down on a thousand years of progress in the jujutsu world." Suguru's heart had undergone a total transformation. "A sorcerer's life is no more precious than a non-sorcerer's."
"My technique is Cursed Spirit Manipulation. I will absorb it. As long as I live, it will never harm another person."
Suguru waved his hand, and his technique activated. Countless curses emerged, gently carrying every villager toward the exit.
"This is a trial." Suguru slowly peeled off his coarse linen farmer's shirt. his voice, once youthful, had taken on a tone of heavy maturity. "This is a trial to overcome the past."
He stretched his arms back, chest out, and tilted his head up toward the ceiling in a magnificent, bizarre pose. "Only by defeating one's own immature past can a person truly grow."
The summer heat was faint in the mountains, where the dense layers of trees showcased nature's unique beauty.
However, as human progress marched on, technology and industrialization had begun to mar this pristine scenery. It was a pity.
Currently, a plume of black smoke was rising from the forest.
"Haibara, put some back into it!" Hasegumo shouted. He was holding a massive wooden board with one hand, piled high with bricks.
Beside him, Yu Haibara had his technique active. Relying on the physical boost from his immense cursed energy, he was rapidly chucking bricks from the kiln toward Hasegumo's head.
"Labor truly is a joy," Novski thought silently to himself as he worked the trowel, laying bricks for the wall.