Chapter 14

  The barrier technique remained a stubbornly difficult bit of sorcery for me to understand. I could sense and visualize the movements of the energy perfectly, thanks to my razor-sharp senses, but being able to replicate it was a different beast entirely.

  The barriers prevented non-sorcerers from being able to see us. They also discouraged cursed spirits from approaching. And according to Mori Tachi, the Mori clan had a way to surveil us.

  I had disabled that feature days after my ascension to clan head simply by rubbing over the weaves of cursed energy with my own cursed energy. That had been a risky move on my part as I could have destroyed the entire barrier with one false move, but I couldn’t have justified putting it off any longer.

  The Mori clan hadn’t called about it, and given the meeting we just had with the Shiba clan…

  “The Mori haven’t shared anything,” I said to Iemon. We were outside of the clan compound, on a hill overlooking a dense forest underneath us—the likely place for my coming showdown with the Shiba clan. “It makes sense. If they told anyone that they were in the business of bugging their barriers, then no one would trust them anymore.”

  “I still cannot believe it,” Iemon growled. “They swore not to, you know. A binding vow passed down from generation to generation. How did they break it?”

  Mori Tachi was proving to be even more of an anomaly the more I wrapped my head around this situation. I didn’t consider myself to be on par with the likes of Gojo Satoru or the Endbringers, even now, but I still couldn’t see myself winning against Mori Tachi. That instinct was informed by a singular exchange of blows, and my own insights into his being.

  It was frustrating.

  Mildly terrifying.

  With any luck, the surveillance function had been Tachi’s idea, as well as his sole method of keeping tabs on me—his prospective protegee, it seemed. His talk of me having the world at my fingertips told me that he had more ambition than what the Association would have allowed him. The Mori were more than content in raking in cash from the rest of the clans, and those clans were far too cowardly to even consider open combat with Jujutsu Society in the wake of Gojo Satoru’s birth.

  “This is the killing field,” Iemon snorted. “At least they won’t know what hit them.”

  This would also be the first time that I would be battling curse experts outside of the family. They might take me by surprise with the quality of their technique.

  I might even lose entirely. These were all distressing hypotheticals.

  In the meanwhile, I had found something in Kaga City. A book chucked into a trash bin. A manga. Volume one of something called Rose of Versailles.

  It had a picture of a boy and a girl, both blonde and ‘pretty’. That was the artist’s intention clearly, based on how big and sparkly their eyes were, and their plump rose pink lips.

  They were posing together within a frame that looked like golden filigree, their tendrils turning into pink roses. There were many roses, in fact.

  “We can expect a force of at least ten to twenty curse experts. That would be more than enough, in their opinion. It may even be considered overkill, but given—“

  “We don’t have modern fiction in our libraries,” I said.

  “Wha—uh, no. In the old days, we tried very deliberately to preserve the old ways, by shunning popular culture. Why?”

  I sent a few of my Juchū over to it. My shikigami were invisible to normal people, but a floating book wouldn’t be.

  I caught myself a second later.

  What about this book was so special that it would take my focus away from the matter at hand like that?

  Was it cursed?

  I couldn’t sense any cursed energy on it.

  Nevertheless, I had my Juchū transform into spiders, spinning cursed thread around it. The cursed thread was liable to dissolve into cursed energy over time—according to my experiments, only positive energy could create lasting substances, and poisons even—but it would give my bugs enough leverage to carry it up and towards the Hibana compound where I could investigate it more closely.

  “No reason,” I said. Then I frowned. Right, the old customs. It dawned on me, now, how much I had missed out on by not opening up the floodgates of media consumption, especially for the young. The parents didn’t know what to say to their children except parrot our new code of ethics to them verbatim, and they were equally confused about the drastic change in social custom.

  Their customs had been negated, leaving them in a confusing vacuum. And confusion would lead to inefficiency.

  I would have to correct this very, very soon. Right after this battle with the Shiba clan. Before then, I would make sure to properly examine this book that was apparently so bad that someone had thrown it into the trash instead of just giving it to a library.

  I swear, some people.

  000

  The year, 1755.

  Despite the unseriousness of some parts of the comic, something… kept me reading.

  And I didn’t stop until I finished the entire volume, twenty-two chapters.

  I wanted more.

  I gave the volume over to Michiko, who shoved it into her swirly face, no doubt placing it somewhere appropriate in the cottage.

  It had been more than eight years since I had sat down to do something as frivolous as reading a campy romance novel—much less a romance manga.

  Fran?ois Augustin Regnier de Jarjayes had rubbed me the wrong way in how horrified he had been to have sired yet another daughter, the sixth one among an all-female litter. That detail, on the first chapter, had been the thing that had kept me glued to a story that I had already dismissed as too nonsensical and frivolous for my tastes.

  Then? The revelation that he would name the child Oscar and raise her in his footsteps as a military commander.

  Indeed, the ‘boy’ on the cover had been a girl all along.

  At first, I had assumed that this was going to be a lesbian romance between Marie Antoinette herself and the fictional other lead character, which was interesting as I had only the most negative perception possible about Japan’s social customs. And to boot, the copyright on this story had been dated 1972, and it had still been published.

  It didn’t take me long to catch onto the fact that this was a slightly fictional, yet mostly faithful retelling of France before and during the revolution.

  This wasn’t a romance between the two leads at all. I had felt cheated upon realizing that, but when I finished the book, I had found it far less frivolous than I had initially imagined. It was just that the characters looked too cartoonish to take very seriously. That had been a mistake on my part.

  There were moments of levity, of course, but by and large, the story did its best to maintain an undercurrent of tension and seriousness.

  I frowned. While I would look for the second volume, I did feel like I might want to branch out to something less serious.

  Unfortunately, there was no time for that. I could do many things at the same time, but the sort of focus that refining templates for Totality required were not one of them.

  Back to work, once again

  000

  The Onryō unit of the Shiba clan consisted of the best of the best of the best. Not just in the clan, Kiryu felt. In the Association.

  His kill squad were high in demand internationally. They had toppled governments, assassinated political dissidents, ended revolutions all over Asia, Africa and South America. They had been too big for Japan to contain, and thus they had ventured outside, to reshape the world in the image of… well, whoever paid them the most.

  In comparison, this mission felt rather… beneath them. Kiryu’s people didn’t really depend on the Hibana clan’s information gathering capabilities as much as the lesser squads did, but the higher-ups were clear about how much they desired their lineage, to grow their own Juchū experts. Kiryu saw the sense in that—with their Juchū combined with his might, they might grow powerful enough to unite the entire Association under one singular clan: the Shiba clan.

  His squad of twenty curse experts followed him through the forest, expertly hopping from tree to tree without making any sound, making good on their shinobi ancestry. Kiryu, the inheritor of the clan’s Invisibility technique, led them from the front as per usual. In their usual way of doing things, he would activate his technique, breach the stronghold’s defenses, thin their ranks, and open the door for his compatriots to finish the job.

  He’d be taking on most of the risk to himself, but that was fine. Kiryu was strong and more than capable of handling even the longest of odds. Nothing took him by surprise—

  --except for how the world seemed to spin so rapidly to his view, and hey, wasn’t that his body falling from that tree—

  000

  I had three fully-grown kamakiri.

  I had expected that to be a problem.

  The shikigami launched themselves through the forest with their thick grasshopper legs. At top speed, they were too fast for my normal Juchū to follow them, which was why they had them inside wooden boxes, ready to release them as they approached our quarry.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

  At the front, the man known as Shiba Kiryu, the Invisible Man. He was something of a legend in the world of curse experts—

  --and there went his head.

  I didn’t expect that at all.

  I made the kamakiri release the boxes, filling the area with my Juchū, giving me the ability to pilot the kamakiri with better accuracy.

  They jumped between the trees, becoming too fast for the ninja-like curse experts to follow, before mowing half of them down in seconds.

  I blinked. That...

  The Shiba scattered.

  I wondered if I shouldn’t focus on capturing them instead. Then I remembered that the Shiba clan were famous for having sworn binding vows of death should they be captured.

  That apparently made them stronger than usual.

  …also, weren’t these guys supposed to be bigshot mercenaries working abroad to kill politicians? Well, that tracked with how weak they were, if the worst they ever faced off against were non-sorcerers with guns.

  I sighed. If this was the worst I could expect from the Association…

  I infected the fleeing members with Mother bugs, and then closed my eyes, concentrating deeply on my soul, gritting my teeth as I did.

  My experiments with the rogue Hibana experts had proven very useful to me. I had learned that the presence of a soul for my Juchū to consume would make them more numerous. And the stronger and less damaged that soul was, the more Juchū I could get from the host.

  It was easier to implant a damaged host than a perfectly healthy one. If I did that, then I would be… pitting my soul against theirs until one or the other broke.

  And soul damage was, on a primal level, extremely frightening.

  That was, unless, you knew that you had a remedy on hand.

  The Reverse Cursed Technique.

  Using it on the soul was, as I had found, an extremely inefficient process that I had yet to refine, probably owing to my lack of effortless talent in that infuriating skill

  The Reverse Cursed Technique was also an energy guzzler, which made it doubly difficult to use it on the soul, but I was getting a pipeline’s worth of cursed energy from Kaga City. Even if reaching my soul with the Technique would be difficult, I could do it.

  I felt the cracks starting to spread and grit my teeth, beginning the process of churning my negative energy into positive energy while drawing from my Juchū.

  If I wasn’t so busy putting my life on the line for more bugs, I would have been screaming. I appreciated that the Shiba were doing it for me.

  Crack.

  Heal.

  Crack.

  Heal.

  The cracks started slowing. The healing started becoming more focused, more refined. I cracked a grin. Nothing like hands-on practice to master a skill.

  I had no idea if there would ever come a time when something would ‘hurt my soul’ like this would, but in that unlikely event, I would be ready.

  Crack.

  Heal.

  And soon, before the cracks could form, I was already healing them away too quickly. And the Shiba began to lose the tug of war drastically with each chunk of their bodies and souls eaten.

  Then something gave in. In that moment, my Juchū ripped through every ounce of their flesh in under a second, turning them into standing egg-sac colonies vaguely in the shape of humans.

  The dead ones were being consumed in short order as well.

  Once all the eggs were laid, I was looking at an increase in Juchū of three and a half million. The bulk of these would come from the ones that had fed on souls. That gave me three more Daughter Bugs to play with. I could complete the signal bridge to Kanazawa now.

  000

  Iemon… really shouldn’t have expected anything different. He ate a meal with Teira-sama in her private quarters. The vengeful spirit of Michiko stood by as always, and Iemon dutifully did not look at its face.

  The one time Iemon had brought the matter regarding that cursed spirit up, he had for a moment seen his life flash before his eyes—yet again reminding him that Teira had no actual love for the man, despite their history of cooperation.

  As of now, the matter was filed in a cabinet in his mind that he would simply forget about.

  That was right. He would just forget about how Teira was the strongest person in the clan, capable of effortlessly dispatching twenty of the Association’s elite experts—the legendary Onryō unit at that—without ever even leaving her house, and this person was totally vulnerable to whatever suggestion this cursed spirit might implant into her, or worse.

  According to Teira, it was completely under her thrall, even without being Controlled directly by Juchū, but—

  Forget. Just forget it.

  Iemon distracted himself from imagining all those doomsday scenarios by thinking about a less intense doomsday scenario, like the Shiba clan waging formal war against the Hibana clan for the presumed loss of their agents.

  “They are likely to team up with the Ogura and Kagae clans for their next push,” Iemon said.

  “That’s good. Saves me the effort of having to find them myself,” the eight-year-old replied. “I’ve given much thought to what this place will look like once I adopt their non-sorcerer clan members. They might not be sorcerers, but their lineage will still be useful. I reckon that it will simply be a matter of treating them by the same standards as the Hibana clan. They will have a point system—a different incentive, since they won’t have much use for Juchū—and the whole works. I doubt that they are any better than we were. Also, I’ve made a selection for who to leave the clan.”

  Iemon started at the sudden change in topic at the end. “Alright? Who?”

  “You.”

  Iemon winced.

  “I need someone capable of guiding the servants. They’re too anxious to make it in the outside world. Just having you there would be enough to get them ready and able to bring back everything that’s needed.”

  Iemon closed his eyes and sighed. “None of us can drive, Teira-sama.”

  She sighed. “Must I really do everything? Fine. I’ll sort out your transport.”

  Wait, what? “How?”

  “Because I’m, apparently, a solution to every single one of this clan’s problems Iemon.” Problems that she, herself, had caused.

  He would never say that, however. Despite everything that had happened, Iemon was still quite attached to his life. Maybe that was shameless of him. Most men would have killed themselves by now, and though the thought had occurred to him a couple of times, he had never seriously considered it.

  And he wouldn’t have succeeded even if he had tried. Teira would have stopped it, like she had stopped half a dozen other suicides, after she then punished the perpetrators by forcing them to copy and transcribe texts in the archives with single-minded dedication.

  According to her, she wanted them to refine their writing skills such that they could eventually write about their feelings once they were released from their punishment.

  It almost sounded like she had been sarcastic—and maybe she had been? There was no telling with her. At times, she gave him the distinct impression of a foreigner—a western woman to be exact.

  “But we still need money,” Teira hummed. She frowned, looking bothered.

  The money issue was really beginning to bloom in terms of how much problems it would cause, especially with their next trip to civilization around the corner.

  “Teira-sama, would it be terribly difficult for you to complete jobs for us?”

  She was reluctant to leave the clan compound for good reason, but wasn’t this more important?

  “For the Association? Iemon, they’re criminals. I refuse to deal with them. Ah—I may have forgotten to mention this to you, but I’m preparing our clan to join hands with the Jujutsu Society. I don’t want to run afoul of their rules any longer, and they are very explicit about not harming or getting involved with non-sorcerers. If it wasn’t for that, I would have robbed every criminal in my range blind already. Unfortunately, our only viable prey is the Association and other curse user factions.”

  Iemon was agape, eyes wide at her words.

  They were joining the Jujutsu Society?!

  He suppressed his glee and nodded deeply. “That is a very wise choice, Teira-sama. Very wise indeed!”

  Teira raised an eyebrow at him. “Why are you so happy about this?”

  “Though I’ve never seen a point of adopting such a politically doomed position as joining the Jujutsu Society, I always did feel, deep down, that we would be better off for it. Even if our earnings ended up dipping, at least we wouldn’t continue this slow decline of ours. And our income stream has always been inconsistent. With the Society’s backing, we could at least ensure steady pay while providing them with our superb information-gathering skills. If we unified the Association under ourselves, we’d be too big for them to turn away. Of course, we would have to make some concessions…”

  “I know,” Teira nodded. “There’s a price. Jujutsu rules always apply. They’ll want us compliant before they’ll expect us to be cooperative. Worst case scenario, the established powers might liquidate and cannibalize us for parts.”

  Doubtful. Teira was a Dragon-grade expert. They could try, and they would find that fight to be one that they would have to bleed to win. Gojo Satoru was strong, but he was only eight, and his strength was… not the same as Teira’s. With all that his clan knew about the Six Eyes user, he could conclusively say that Teira had an edge in skill and strategy. She could find a way to trick him, if not outright beat him—though that possibility was exceedingly unlikely. Without some kind of heaven-sent cursed tool or technique, nothing could get past Limitless.

  “I can try and recruit more sorcerers from the non-sorcerer population,” Teira said with a frown. “Though I fear they would be a terrible fit for our clan’s newfound culture. No, they wouldn’t be able to stay with us, but we could find ways to train them.”

  Iemon blinked. “What… do you mean? Sorcerers don’t just crop up from non-sorcerers on a predictable basis, Teira. Those cases are extremely rare.”

  “I know, of course,” Teira said. “But in Kaga city alone, there’s four. There’s around twenty to thirty with enough cursed energy to see spirits, but those four have far more cursed energy than the rest, and theirs seems less controlled. I can’t sense if any of them have cursed techniques, but I do know that they are untrained.”

  Kaga city?! “Teira-sama… you have Juchū in Kaga city?”

  “Since last week. I’m halfway towards reaching Kanazawa, too.”

  Iemon shelved the topic of her mindboggling range, as she had just said something far more interesting. “Teira-sama… raw sorcerers, as we call them in this business, are an incredibly sought-after resource in this world. For one, they are dangerous. If they don’t hurt themselves with their power, they might hurt someone else. And even then, just their presence and unrestricted release of power is enough to cause cursed spirits to flock to them. They are like non-sorcerers in that regard, but a hundred times more enticing. Secondly, they may become military resources for a faction in the future, given the right amount of training. If you can simply find these people at will… Jujutsu Society might bend over backwards to have us—provided you also demonstrate the ability to protect yourself from them, should they act aggressively.”

  Teira nodded. “Great. Thank you, Iemon. That was actually a good idea.”

  She said it as though he didn’t usually have them. Grating.

  Teira reached for her gourd of sake, and Iemon tried to suppress his grimace.

  000

  Clan head Shiba Mato felt a growing sense of grim certainty the longer the Onryō unit did not report back about the mission.

  After three days, he had given up and had summoned the elders for a meeting.

  “The Onryō squad have most likely met their end in the Hibana clan,” Mato sighed. “Proving that the clan isn’t entirely defenseless.”

  The nearest elder scoffed. “Too much playing around in Africa, battling non-sorcerers, dulled their edge.”

  The other elders grumbled similarly. That particular arm of their military operation had been something of a black stain in the Shiba clan. They were… mildly lucrative compared to their other operations, accounting for a full fifth of their revenue. To lose them was a regrettable tragedy, especially in the wake of the Hibana clan’s outright refusal to deal with them any longer.

  However, there had been a growing amount of antipathy for that unit. They battled non-sorcerers, taking care of soft targets, and owing to their clandestine nature, they were not able to really demand an appropriate price for the work that they did, else they would risk raising the ire of Jujutsu Society. There were few things that those people hated more than interfering with non-sorcerer affairs, especially killing non-sorcerers.

  But they had been an adequate… receptacle for the worst of the clan’s experts.

  Kiryu’s loss was the biggest blow. Not even: it was the loss of his technique, a loss as old as that man was. The fact that the Invisibility technique had to go to him of all people…

  Kiryu could barely disguise himself from the senses of a Bear-grade expert. His invisibility was purely visual, but somehow, when he used it, he was even more conspicuous with his cursed energy. The only opponents of note that he could possibly fool were non-sorcerers, and who needed to hide when dealing with them?!

  “Mato-sama,” one of the elders said. “While the Onryō unit were unable to defeat the Hibana clan, likely due to their remaining fixed defenses, this should not discourage us from trying again.”

  “Should we partner with the Ogura or the Kagae—“

  “No, of course not! Why should we share the spoils with them? If we become the sole bearers of the Juchū lineage, then—”

  “Won’t it be dangerous to include those people? Their cursed technique is so embedded in their blood that they may wipe out our own inherited techniques.”

  “Then we simply segregate them. They will not breed with us. We will simply rear them like livestock.”

  While they squabbled, Mato calculated the risks associated with hitting the Hibana again with a decisive strike. It was a shame that the Onryō unit hadn’t been able to bring back any information on their fixed defenses. Ironically, as he thought of that, he had felt a reflexive urge to hire the Hibana for that.

  The mental lapse was enough to make him quirk his lips up a little.

  Yes, though their defenses may be relevant, Kiryu and his band of rejects had always been just that: rejects.

  Even without information, the full weight of the Shiba clan’s stock of experts would be more than enough to handle any unforeseen circumstances or hidden weapons.