Chapter 34

  Ieiri Shoko couldn’t identify the exact moment in which the drug kicked in.

  There was the bite, and the slow numbing of all her faculties.

  And then… nothing.

  No thoughts. Just sensations. Instincts. A hand holding her hand, projecting warmth and protection. A pale face with blackened eyes, regally sculpted. A trustworthy figure.

  With an inner spark that burned with malevolence. Not evil, simply malevolence. Hatred. Anger. A focused desire to destroy. It was hot and destructive, like lava.

  Shoko had it, too. Deep down. It wasn’t nearly as hot. Nor as plentiful. Hers was… a quiet, festering resentment. One that she found easier to just ignore. She could faintly remember moving it when her blood got high, or when her negativity reached a peak.

  She hated feeling that way.

  She pushed the energy out, using that hatred—a hatred towards her own emotion.

  The warmth of her negativity enveloped her. It made her stronger.

  Hmmm… feels good.

  It felt like sleeping for the first time in her life. And the more she pushed it out, the better it got.

  At some point, she had stopped walking.

  At some point, she had stopped standing.

  She was seated on the cold, dewy grass, while she moved her energy around. She smiled. This was… this was fun.

  She infused her hands sequentially, like a pendulum. Then, she challenged herself to infuse each individual finger. The finer control she had, the more satisfying the feeling got.

  But the trick wasn’t to just will the energy around like one willed one’s fingers to flex. She had to… go somewhere first.

  A place she couldn’t name, really. It was a place of the mind, that only existed in the mind. In her mind. Her… thing.

  She let go of the energy and began to focus more on this… thing of hers. She pondered it silently. Poked at it. Used it, just to remember that it was there. That she now could.

  As more of her mind returned to her, Shoko held fast to this thing. Her knack. The lever through which she manipulated her cursed energy.

  I have it… finally.

  000

  I crouched before Shoko, who seemed deep in her own mind, eyes closed as she sat cross-legged on the ground.

  I took a swig from my sake and sensed her closely. She was barely using her energy. What happened? Was the dopamine feedback loop not working? That should have been impossible. All humans instinctively craved pleasure.

  As the first hour passed, I finally put a hand on Shoko’s thigh to rouse her. “Are you conscious?”

  She nodded, smiling.

  “Have you understood the assignment?”

  Her cursed energy flared.

  “Infuse your right fist,” I said. She did. After a delay. She wasn’t spreading her energy evenly across her body, like a professional would. Rather, the energy took time to reach her right fist as it had to travel all the way from her core inside the area corresponding to her stomach. “Now your right finger.” After a few seconds, she did. “Great work.” We wouldn’t have to repeat this session again. She had already been upgraded from a rank beginner to someone with the qualifications to stand in the starting line.

  She opened her eyes and grinned. “So pretty.”

  Huh? “You’re not talking to me, are you?”

  “Yeah… pretty.”

  I grinned. “You are definitely out of your mind if you think that. But… thank you. I guess.”

  I didn’t have any illusions whatsoever about my looks. More to the point, I didn’t care to change it. Not unless it became necessary, like when dealing with non-sorcerers. Otherwise, I quite liked the way I looked.

  Then again, I wasn’t all that normal. Maybe Shoko wasn’t, either?

  I thought back to all our time spent together yesterday and determined: probably not.

  That was comforting to know.

  “Alright, get up,” I said. “Let’s do a quick round of sparring. All I want you to do is hit me, so don’t worry. I won’t hit you back.”

  She stood up and looked… troubled. “Noooo. I don’t wanna hurt you,” she pouted.

  I giggled. “You won’t. Trust me. I’m far too strong to be hurt by the likes of you.”

  “Promise?”

  I put a hand on my chest. “Ieiri Shoko, I promise you won’t be able to hurt me even if you try your very, very best. So do try your very, very best, alright?”

  She raised her fists and nodded. “Okay. I trust you.”

  She pulled her fist back and ran up to me with a scream.

  Then she released the most pathetic punch on the planet. I caught it with my bare hands, not even infused with energy—as she had very pointedly forgotten to infuse hers. “Remember the energy, Shoko.”

  “Ah, right!”

  She stepped back, and this time she infused her arm with the punch. Her arm muscles contracted more powerfully than before, lending additional momentum to the punch.

  Still pathetically weak, of course, but far better than before. Her progress was palpable. Of course, many students had such quick increases in foundational skills, only for them to stall out on more applied techniques.

  Like many girls our age, Shoko was hopeless when it came to physical exercise. That wasn’t her fault. It was the fault of a society that heavily discouraged athleticism in young girls—at least, the kind that didn’t seek to put them in leotards and bloomers.

  In the big clans, women had the option of learning how to use a naginata, as was the ancient tradition of the warrior class dating all the way back to the late Heian era. As such, girls like Kamo Sachi at least knew how to handle themselves, just barely. They didn’t receive the same level of focused instruction and rigour as men did—for fear that such hardships may mar their beauty with unsightly muscle mass and calluses.

  To be taken seriously as a sorcerer and a woman in this society demanded a perfection in both skill and looks. It was an irritating state of affairs, and one that I would have to tackle in time.

  Shoko poured more and more energy into her strikes, gradually and intuitively enforcing the rest of her body to provide a better support for her striking arm. By pure instinct as she chased down the high of cursed energy manipulation, she was gaining a grasp for biomechanics in real time—the study of how living things moved.

  And through it all, her face was quietly grinning in something almost approaching… peaceful. Unlike many of my students in the past, who chased the high of cursed energy manipulation with sheer rage and negative emotion, Shoko was different. She seemed almost… averse to negativity. Like she was scared of it. Or maybe she was discomforted by it?

  It was odd, seeing such an attitude. Truly. When was the last time I had met someone that truly shied away from the concept of negative emotions? In the world of sorcerers, this mentality was tantamount to a total surrender of ambition.

  And yet…

  Shoko’s punches grew heavier and heavier with each passing moment.

  And she was still not breathing any heavier.

  I tried not to get my hopes up. Eventually, she would start plateauing, like everyone did. She would no longer be utterly pathetic, but there would be a point at which she stopped improving. I had to accept that now rather than raise my expectations foolishly. Haruta had already burned me once. She was my favorite disciple, and that truly said something about the rest of the people I’d taught. Not a single Grade One among them. At least not anyone I would call a Grade One.

  Grade One was the highest I could expect out of any sorcerer. You couldn’t train until Special Grade. That required the talent of an innate technique. But everyone should be able to reach Grade One with just hard work alone.

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  I tried not to fully wipe the cursed spirit population using my network. I tried taking care of the trivial ones first, such that they wouldn’t conjoin to become more troublesome down the line, leaving behind the Grade Twos, Ones and Special Grades to share with the other sorcerers. Still, I gradually inched my way towards reaching further and further inadvertently, to protect the lives of the sorcerers who seemed increasingly ill-equipped to deal with the cursed spirits of the same grade.

  Something was happening. There was a gradually approaching shift in how cursed spirits behaved. They spent more time than ever before in that liminal space between reality and whatever realm of imagination allowed their ‘forms’ to congeal based off of humanity’s collective negativity. It was not unheard of for cursed spirits to retreat into this space when cornered—but doing so incurred some kind of cost—perhaps a permanent one, that set their strength progression back, necessitating that they consume more on their second go of life to recoup their losses.

  Regardless, that wasn’t an option that they used lightly.

  Add that to the fact that if I were to go all out and erase every cursed spirit in Japan, I would become the second coming of Tengen—a one-woman infrastructure that all the sorcerers would permanently come to rely on. That wasn’t the answer. Especially if I were to die. I didn’t expect to die anytime soon, but there was no permanent solution like a temporary one.

  But far, far more to the point: I sensed that I was driving an evolution as it was, with my ceaseless hunting. My cursed energy perception was becoming less and less effective at detecting new cursed spirits with every year that passed, and more of them freely disappeared into the cursed realm, lying there in wait and forcing me to react to an incident.

  Worst of all: the death toll wasn’t appreciably dropping—only shifting in publicity, from high-profile city murders, to an assortment of countryside atrocities that added extra incentive for villagers and small-town folk to move away from the dying countryside. In the span of a generation, this would have a very real impact on Japan’s many microcultures, the agricultural industry, traditional crafts, forestry, fishing—

  It was… a travesty. A death by a thousand cuts. A loss of culture.

  No matter. All these things were already bound to happen owing to a declining birth rate. The best I could do was continue at my current pace, even if that meant people dying. I could… bear that loss. I had the big-picture view, after all.

  I could bear the loss… for the time being. One day, with Gojo and Geto by my sides, we would figure out a permanent solution to the cursed spirit problem. Until then, I had to make sure not to agitate the situation by going overboard.

  I wondered how much respect I would lose if Jujutsu Society discovered how wide my reach could be if I just let it.

  What would Shoko think?

  Or Gojo?

  Just don’t tell them. Easy.

  I’d let them have their peaceful high school days. Unlike myself, they were children. They deserved to have some more levity in their lives.

  Eventually Shoko tired out. The sun had risen by that time, and she had also regained more of her wits.

  She stood straight and stretched her arms up with a groan. “Damn. That was trippy. But I get it now. Thank you, Teira.”

  “Yes,” I said. “You’ve found your knack. As such, we won’t be repeating this session.”

  “Probably for the best. That felt really good.”

  I winced. Shoko had reacted exceptionally to the drug, more than average for certain. All brains were different, and this was one such manifestation.

  She reached into her pocket to retrieve a box of cigarettes and a lighter. I snatched the box out of her hands with a click of my tongue. “Don’t do that.”

  “Wha—hey! Those are mine!” She replied hotly.

  “They’re bad for you.”

  “Teira. Give them. Now. I mean it.”

  I had… never seen her this angry. “You shouldn’t smoke after exercising—“

  “You’re my friend, not my mother. Spare me the lecture and give them back.”

  Wow. A nicotine addicted teenager. How depressing.

  I need a drink.

  I tossed her back the box. She grabbed it and looked at it.

  Then, with an uncharacteristic amount of heat, she put it back in her pocket. “It’s not about the cigarettes,” she said. “It’s… I stole them from my mom. So I didn’t want you to just throw them away or something.”

  “Oh.”

  “But really. I don’t need the lecture. If I’m old enough to risk my life, I’m old enough to risk my lungs, too.”

  “I get that,” I said. “But I’m just scared that it won’t do you many favors when the chips are down, and you need to give it your all. Remember; it’s not just your own life you need to secure. Your allies will be counting on you, too.”

  She rolled her eyes. “I’ll just get good enough to offset the disadvantage of the smoking.”

  She was being unreasonably difficult. I pulled out a bottle of sake from a portal—a ceramic bottle—and took a deep swig.

  “Man, I’m thirsty,” Shoko said. “Can I have some?”

  “It’s tea,” I said.

  “Oooh, nice.”

  “Medicinal tea. Really bitter.”

  “Ah, I love that stuff!”

  “It’s sake,” I said.

  She gaped at me.

  Then chuckled. “No way.”

  I handed her the bottle, since she seemed so damn intent on it. She giggled as she upended a bit of the liquid into her mouth. Her expression twisted immediately and she spat it out before dropping the bottle. I caught it easily and kept drinking from it, mostly to erase the sting of seeing such a young girl hopelessly addicted to cigarettes.

  Shoko was doubled over, trying her best to spit despite her no-doubt numbed tongue. Instead, all she could manage was a long line of saliva slowly sinking from her mouth while she retched.

  Sometimes, you just had to let your kids put their hands on the stovetop so they would learn.

  Finally, she raised her head to look at me in betrayal. “You hypocrite!”

  “Hypocrite?” I asked.

  “And you’re hassling me about my smoking?”

  “Ahhh,” I nodded and then chuckled. “Well, that’s easy; my drinking doesn’t harm me. Therefore, if it doesn’t harm me, and quite frankly, makes me feel awesome, why wouldn’t I drink? I got really good at the Reverse Cursed Technique this way, by the way. It was excellent training.”

  “How long have you been drinking?”

  I raised an eyebrow in thought. “Since I took over the clan, I guess.”

  “Since you were eight?”

  “Yeah. I already had the Reverse Cursed Technique by then, so it wasn’t a big deal. By far the least of all the poison I’ve had to endure. Tell you what: you unlock the Reverse Cursed Technique, too, and I’ll stop getting on your case about your smoking.”

  “Reverse Cursed Technique?”

  I gave her a quick rundown of the skill, and how I understood it—as the very opposite of negative energy in all its manifold properties.

  “Well, if you figured it out when you were eight…” she said as she closed her eyes and focused.

  I grinned widely. I really was a human curse, for leading her on like this. I couldn’t help it, of course. Seeing her struggle pathetically would be so much fun!

  “Alright,” Shoko said quietly. “So if cursed energy moves this way… and the reverse is the opposite. Hmm… fwoo… hyoi…”

  “I can show you a diagram using my Juchū,” I said. “It’s really quite involved but if you’re smart enough—“

  “Fwoo,” she said, totally ignoring me. “Hyoi. Ah…. Hmmm,” she grinned in satisfaction. “I see now. That’s easy.”

  That’s easy?! Hah! I couldn’t wait to see reality wipe that grin off her face.

  “Hmm…”

  She kept grinning.

  As the minutes went by, she kept grinning. She was a stubborn one, alright, but I still waited to see the disappointment with a bated breath.

  Until finally…

  “There!” she shouted. In glee.

  Huh?

  Her cursed energy ignited. I could sense it imploding.

  Huh?!

  And then I felt it—the telltale sign of positive energy coursing through her body, likely healing her strained muscles from yesterday’s exercise. She groaned in utter satisfaction as the power washed through her. “Ah, that feels better than cigarettes.”

  What the fuck?

  She finally opened her eyes. Then she slapped a hand over her mouth to hold back a burst of laughter. She failed and started cackling while pointing at me.

  What the fuck was that?!

  What the actual fuck was that?!

  Michiko, I need the strong stuff.

  ‘The soul sake, Teira-chan?’

  Yes, the soul sake. I reached my hand into a portal and brought the gourd out, taking three wide swigs of it before re-depositing it into a portal.

  The effects hit me instantly. It bypassed my physical tolerance and immediately glued up the mental cogs of my very soul, preventing me from instantly sobering up no matter how hard I tried. The occasion truly called for this numbing of this agony of agonies.

  ‘Should I humble this one?’

  No, leave her alone. She’s my friend, Michiko. Get used to it.

  ‘Of course…’

  She fished out her cigarette from her pocket, and lit one, while grinning at me in a distinctly feline way. You’d think she had grown a tail and cat ears the way she leered at me. “I guess that means I’m allowed to smoke without you bitching me out, huh? Ain’t that right? Huh?”

  I looked at the stupid fucking cancer stick box in her hands, the drug that she had defied the very heavens to have easy access to, through the power of nothing but addiction and what was likely undiagnosed depression.

  “Just… hand me a cigarette,” I said.

  000

  “Hiyya, girls!” Gojo said as he walked into the cafeteria, expression wide and bright. Geto followed after him, smiling as well. He still had an air of awkwardness to him, owing to how he still wasn’t quite used to this shotgun-friendgroup of ours. “Nice to see you waking up so bright and early for breakfast! Early bird catches the worm and all.”

  “Spare me,” I spat. “Like you didn’t haul ass and drag Geto all the way here the moment you woke up and saw us here with your Six Eyes. You spent five minutes showering, too. Weirdo.”

  “You’re even more toxic than usual. You seem super down. And Shoko seems super up! She beat you in a bet or something, right? Now you’re taking it out on me?”

  Gojo laughed as he gauged my reaction to his stupid prediction, while Geto gave Shoko and I a nod of greeting as they walked up to our table in the cafeteria, with their trays of breakfast in hand. Meanwhile, Shoko who was sitting next to me was eating her food happily while playing around with her cursed energy.

  Actually. Why should I be the only one to suffer alone? “Gojo—remind me, how many years did you try to unlock the Reverse Cursed Technique?”

  Gojo looked stunned by the question. “Since forever, I guess.”

  “Even with the Six Eyes, it took quote-unquote forever.”

  Shoko scoffed. “Heh! Plebians! The both of you.”

  “No way,” Gojo whispered, looking at Shoko in horror. “There’s just no way in hell, Shoko.”

  “Am I missing something?” Geto asked.

  “The Reverse Cursed Technique, dude!” he shouted.

  “Yeah? And? What’s that?”

  Gojo quickly explained it and how rare it was, before refocusing on Shoko. “There’s no way, Shoko. Show me. Show me now.”

  She raised her hand and produced positive energy inside of it.

  “What is it?” Geto asked, looking confused.

  Gojo’s Six Eyes told him everything. My own senses were sharp enough to detect the positive energy inside of her, too.

  “She learned that this morning,” I said. “Right after I taught her how to manipulate her cursed energy. Guess I’m just that good of a teacher—“

  “Shut—shut up,” Gojo held a hand out to shut me up, the fucking bastard, while he kept staring at Shoko. He took off his sunglasses to get a better look at her. “How did you do this?”

  “Don’t let Teira lie to you. I figured it out almost completely on my own.”

  Fwoo, hyoi. She was not even using real words.

  “Yes, she’s a super-talent,” I said dryly. Despite how humbled I felt, I couldn’t help but grin at that. That was really good. “You know, Shoko, the last person to have the Reverse Cursed Technique in my clan before me lived in the Edo period.”

  “Really?” she raised an eyebrow. “It’s seriously easy, though.”

  Was it her innate technique, maybe? Or perhaps it was some kind of Heavenly Restriction, like what Toji had, but purely for the Reverse Cursed Technique? What was the cost she was paying, then?

  “Alright, watch this,” she said as she drew her hands back. “Healing Beam!”

  She jutted her hands forward and I grinned. Right, now she’d discover that it wasn’t possible to—

  A wave of wispy, transparent gray-white energy shot out from her hands. Positive energy in the form of raw output, not packaged inside of a technique. Something I had determined to be an impossibility.

  Obviously not impossible.

  Tiny eight-year-old hands pushing into the bleeding neck of a middle-aged woman, trying to stem the bleeding.

  Trying to perform the miracle of healing.

  “Teira!” Shoko leaned towards me, her expression deeply concerned. “Are you alright?”

  “Huh? Yeah, I mean—I’m just overwhelmed.”

  Gojo wasn’t freaking out like I had expected. He was also looking at me in shock. As was Geto. Why?

  “You’re crying,” Shoko said.

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