December 24th, 2017
It was late in the afternoon, with the sun blazing down fiercely, and Jiki sat beneath his favorite tree. It had grown to be one of his favorite places over the past few months.
The wide sweeping branches and lengthy leaves shaded him adequately, regardless of what he was doing, be it painting, meditating, or just observing the katas his friends and classmates were moving through.
Today, he had decided on meditation, at least that is what it must've seemed like to anybody observing. The less keen might've just assumed he was sleeping, with his body relaxed, breath even, and his presence seemingly detached from the world.
Over the past few weeks, he had spent the majority of his time working on one of his techniques. A derivation that he had neither the time to experiment with nor the inclination to explore in his past life. He had lived his past life on a ticking clock, aware that every breath he took was one that was counted.
He had been sick from the moment he was born. A genetic disease that had a one-in-a-million chance of occurring. Blessed with prodigious talent, fate deemed it fit to balance that, as all things should be. Coupled with the rapid deterioration of his eyes, excessive experimentation was a death sentence for a man in his position. What use was a sharpened blade if it could not be wielded?
Ignoring the heightened tension that came from an expected and anticipated battle was an easy thing for him. The atmosphere had changed over the past few weeks and only for the worst.
Classes had been few and succinct, even Satoru seemed perpetually distracted and had shelved his desire to explore genjutsu to the side.
Instead, his focus had been on finding and retrieving his renegade one-time friend. Unfortunately, the Mist of Aikoghare had proven just as confusing to him as to anyone else.
The six eyes did not give the instinctive ability to see through the twisted reality of the accursed mist as the Sharingan did. The renegade special-grade sorcerer had chosen his hideout well and with some knowledge of their capabilities.
Geto had not given a specific date or goal for his destruction of so many people's worldviews, only a simple timeframe, two locations, and a vague threat of genocide.
'Soon,' 'Shingiku,' and 'Kyoto.'
Unfortunately, Geto had proven to be more tactically minded than Jiki remembered because giving out an ambiguous time-frame had done nothing but put everybody on their toes.
Neither did it lead well to planning on how to evacuate the area. With such a vague timeframe, they could not afford to pursue people from their homes for long. It meant that when this war started, there would be casualties.
Innocent casualties, but not one that Jiki was surprised about. Geto's goal was the eradication of mundane humanity in the first place. It would have been stranger if he had given them a date and time to stop them. The major thing that bogged Jiki was the fact that Geto had given a warning at all.
That realization that this would be just as bloody as they expected, coupled with their true inexperience with such warfare, kept them in a heightened state that was detrimental to their long-term capabilities.
Everybody except Jiki, of course. Experience had forged his mind into a steely thing. For all the similarities in their way and techniques, jujutsu sorcerers were not shinobi. They were not soldiers, they were not familiar with the stress and fatigue that came with waiting for the inevitable.
Their jobs had always been simple and clear-cut in a way; morality was mostly black and white with vague shades of gray. Curses bad, sorcerers good. There were always exceptions, of course, but not enough to have made a difference. Maybe if this had been a thousand years ago, they would've been more prepared for this.
The Hei was proof that the clans and the world had been a much different place. A place where the clans fought with blades and curses against each other instead of words and politics.
This was something none of the new generation had experience with. At least no one among them was old enough to be familiar with it, war that is.
That was not his problem. His training gave him the chance to rest in a state of semi-alertness that allowed him to shift into fight or flight with a simple focus, so he rested easily, spending more time refining his control.
He already had near-impeccable control of both his cursed energy and body, but that was not enough for what he had planned. Nearly was not enough to turn a blunt tool into a scalpel. No, his control of it had to be perfect if he sought to achieve what he had planned.
So he sat still under his favorite tree once more, ignoring the training his classmates indulged in the background.
Noises of their exertions proved unable to distract him, instead serving as a whetstone to further sharpen his focus and concentration. If all it took was some voices in the background to unsettle him, then it would never be combat-applicable.
They trained harder than ever under the scorching sun, with the knowledge of the Parade. With the free time they had been given, they channeled that time into honing their bodies, skills, and techniques. Blows were deflected and techniques were refined.
He let their words, struggle, and toil drone in the background, leaving them a dull murmur while never truly registering the voices.
His meditation and training were finally disturbed by Satoru's signature teleportation.
"Satoru," he started, eyes closed and body relaxed. "It has started, hasn't it?"
"Ha!" Satoru let out a bark of laughter that had zero humor in it.
"Later than we hoped, yet sooner than he expected. Geto sure has put us through the wringer, and it has just barely begun," Satoru admitted, his voice tired and hard.
Jiki finally opened his eyes and looked up at his older cousin; the past few weeks had not been kind to him, and it reflected in the sharp angles on his face. Satoru more than anybody felt responsibility for Geto's fall.
It almost made him laugh. He remembered a time when Satoru could not have cared for mundane human life and grumbled about the need to preserve them, while Geto believed in their responsibility as the strong to protect the weak.
Truly, you either die a hero or you live long enough to see yourself become the villain. Maybe he should have allowed Toji to kill Geto that day; then perhaps he would not have been forced down that path
"What?" Satoru asked, brow raised and eyes narrowed behind the white eye wrap he had chosen to wear today. And like always, Satoru showed some ability in reading his moods, more so than others.
"Nothing," he replied, his sudden onset of gallows humor was not needed here. "So what now?" he asked, rising to his feet.
"We placed the majority of our auxiliary managers and scouts in Shinjuku and Kyoto, and today they began reporting an increased amount of deaths along with roaming curses, leaving behind them blood stains and splatters," Satoru began.
Maki was the first person to notice the presence of their teacher, and with a wave, she alerted him to it, along with their classmates, and seconds later they ended their spars and began the short jog to them.
"We have begun relocating them, evacuating the citizens. But it's slow going and the curses keep on killing more and more people. It's only a matter of time before the deaths are too many and the curses become visible, exposing the truth of the world," Satoru let out a sigh at that. "Not that I care much for it," Satoru added with an uncaring shrug.
"Gojo-sensei!!!" They shouted in unison as they got closer, and Satoru straightened up immediately, instantly losing his slouch while the hard edges on his features smoothed out, as he turned to face them with a smile on his lips.
"Mau Mau, my cute little students have been training for so long I almost can't recognize them."
A quick teleportation carried him to Maki's side as he lifted her hands to observe her biceps with a serious look on his face, "You are not there yet, but I'm sure you've tried your best." He finished with consolation for her effort. The moment she made to swipe him away, he teleported again.
This time he appeared behind Panda and wrapped his hand around the white and black creature's tummy and hefted it with some comical effort. "What did I tell you about losing weight panda-kun."
Before Satoru could continue on to his next victi- student. Maki interrupted him once more. "You're not much of a teacher if you can't be present to teach you know." Despite her words and the fact way, Emi, Toge, Panda, and Yuta nodded in agreement he could see the relief in their eyes.
Satoru's presence was a bastion of strength, despite his random acts of whimsicalty. His sheer act of seemingly being unbothered had strengthened their conviction for what was coming in its own way. Grounded them and made it seem like everything would be alright. When in reality, not all of them might make it past the night.
"So what now?" Emi asked. Her eyes moved between the two cousins like she had an idea of the heavy subject they had interjected in. She was not fooled by Satoru's act. Where Maki had her beat on sheer perception the timid girl had everyone else beat by her ability to simply read people. "Has it begun? The parade?" She explained like they could be talking about another thing, her anxiety peeking through.
"Yes," Satoru admitted with a nod, turning to face his students fully. "We have begun placing barriers and reactivating older ones at strategic positions, but we need time, and that is one that Geto is not going to give us; so we're deploying now.
So far, it's been grade three and four curses that have been picked up, so we've put out the call to the three major clans and all our Aluminis."
"Are we going to fight too?" Panda questioned with a fur digit pointing against himself, before swinging it to the rest of them.
Satoru was silent for a few seconds, and Jiki could almost see him weigh the lives of his students against the need for there to be all hands on deck alongside the experience that could be gained from something like this.
"As reserve forces maybe," Satoru finally admitted with a sharp grin. "It'll give you the chance to gain some experience against the stronger curses."
He turned to Yuta and continued, "Except you, Yuta."
"Huh," was the eloquent response from the wide-eyed teen. He sent those two eyes to his classmates looking for support and a reason why he had been pointed out. When he saw none coming, he spoke up.
"B-but I have been training too"
"I know you have, Yuta," Satoru acknowledged. "But you don't have enough control over Rika. Not yet."
"She listens to me now…" Yuta argued with confidence, before deflating somewhat and murmuring. "sometimes…"
Satoru walked up to the teen and ruffled his hair forcing Yuta out of the funk he was placing himself in before replying to him with a big smile, one that hid the weariness he had accumulated over the past few weeks.
"You're young and talented Yuta-kun. You have the time to refine your control. You won't be able to do that if you die or cause disastrous collateral damage due to a loss of control over Rika."
Yuta nodded in response before firming up and looking back at them. "You guys should be safe."
....
Shinjuku was a beautiful city. One of the most important districts in Tokyo, and a near-perfect blend of modernity and the more traditional buildings and styles the Japanese favored.
Skyscrapers could be counted by the hundreds, their points and ceilings piercing the sky, adorned with dazzling neon lights that illuminated the bustling streets below.
He was seated at the top of one of those skyscrapers. His pose was languid, uncaring. Borne of the knowledge of the power he held.
His legs hung down the side of the building as he observed the city beneath him, with lazy half-lidded eyes and a palm propping up his jaw. What was once the peak of urban frenzy, with hidden gems like serene gardens and a bustling crowd that brought life to its many entertainment districts, had turned into a grave town.
Somehow, they had managed to reinforce the secrecy of sorcery and curses despite the number of people who had lost their lives. The auxiliary managers had done an admirable job of cleaning up the mess and containing the situation.
Still, if you knew where to look, you could see the blood splashed in dark corners, the splatters told a story of violence and death that was forever etched on the walls and roads, a story that was almost as old as they were. Sorcerers battled against curses.
It was a clear night. The clouds were few and sparse in the sky, the moon was in full bloom, and the stars were many. What would've been a scenic view any other time was tainted but what was about to occur under them.
Jiki could pick up the sound of curses and the clashes that followed. Roving but weak grade three and grade four curses that the weaker sorcerers and students were wetting their blades against, yet not one that Jiki had any reason to face.
No, they were just the opening shots, a roving band of mindless curses to spread fear and sell the mood. He had no fight with them, He was saving his energy for the real threats. Geto and the dark-skinned man who almost took off his head at the shoulder weeks ago.
He continued to follow the few battles with a lazy gaze, till something drew his attention. Far off below him was a family of four. A man who was run ragged, clothes torn, and tired eyes, accompanied by a woman carrying a baby and a younger girl.
One of the few people that didn't manage to evacuate on time then. They did their best to sneak from one shadowed corner to another, but it was only a matter of time before they drew the attention of something wicked.
It was a dog-like creature, a mangy black-furred hound that sniffed at their tracks. Its wide maw opened the moment it caught up to them, and putrid saliva dripped from its jaws.
Jiki looked about, perhaps there was another sorcerer close by, but unfortunately for the group below, they were alone. By chance, luck, or even fate, the man turned back the exact moment he did, and he locked wide terrified eyes together with hungry black orbs that held nothing.
Jiki let out a sigh and smoothly rose to his feet, turning his back on them and whispering a single word: "Run."
They ran.
They had approximately thirty seconds until the curse could catch up to them. Factor in the weight of the baby, the slower gait of the younger girl, and their overall fatigue, and that number dropped down to fifteen seconds.
He walked towards where the antenna and dishes were placed, slowly measuring them until he found the perfect one. It was an easy thing to lash out at an angle, breaking the particular antenna he found suitable and leaving it with a sharp jagged edge.
He walked back to the edge of the building, and he could see his estimation was correct. Ten seconds later, the hound was already catching up to them, but they had somehow increased the distance between them, thanks to the man picking up the girl and running with her.
That unknown human factor gave them an additional few seconds advantage.
Jiki focused on the scene with his Sharingan doing the heavy lifting. He calculated the angle, the distance, the wind speed, and finally, the hound's speed before lifting his makeshift spear.
It was the work of a few seconds to reinforce it. He didn't expect the sheared steel antenna to survive the ordeal he planned to put it through, so he slowly pumped in as much cursed energy as it could take before aiming and flinging it down, watching it fly at near supersonic speed.
A split second later, the makeshift projectile slammed into the hound's neck, pinning it to the ground with an explosion of force that cratered the surroundings for a few meters, sending the family head over heels and crashing into themselves.
When they finally managed to pick themselves up, it was to the sight of the curse, struggling and howling as it found it impossible to lift itself from the rod that forced it into the earth.
The older man sent his gaze back at where the projectile had come from, and from the distance, the only thing he could make out was white hair flowing in the wind.
With his good deed for the day done with, he allowed himself to relax back into a sitting position as the sound of clashes between sorcerers and curses continued to echo out, but Jiki ignored them. Sure in the knowledge that his classmates were hunting as a pack, and with that knowledge, he knew them safe. Instead, what finally drew his attention was the surge and sudden manifestations of thousands of curses just at the edge of his sensing range.
His head snapped to the side as he saw the sudden horde surge forward; they had appeared from nothing and nowhere and had begun a wave of devastation that crumpled cars and cracked buildings. His wide eyes tried to count the numbers even though he knew it was for naught. Two thousand was a low estimate.
Geto.
That was the only explanation for how they appeared. So his claim of over two thousand curses was not a bluff then, it was a low estimate. DId he send out every curse in his arsenal? Jiki let out a sigh as he was forced to stand up once more. He could hear the sound of battle beginning in earnest in the background.
The curses were legion. He couldn't afford to hold back until he faced Geto or his partner. They were drastically outmatched, especially when he factored in the grades and classes of the curses. He was apart from the rest, had wandered off, and was alone. But that was how he preferred it. That was how he had fought for years.
With a single step forward, he dropped over the ledge of the building towards the wailing maw of the gigantic centipede curse that had wrapped the building and was steadily making its way up to him.
....
He strolled leisurely, navigating partly based on his years-long stay in the school and sanctuary, as well as the sheer cursed energy output that was the combined signature of Yuta and special-grade apparition Rika. Nostalgia made him take the long route.
He had missed the sights and the memories attached. That one Buddhist statue he had dared Satoru to paint pink when they were fourteen. The pond beneath the cherry blossom tree where Satoru and Ierie had pushed him into a few seconds after his surprise fifteen-year-old birthday.
Sentimentality and wistfulness slowed his pace, and even with the knowledge that their farce might be figured out anytime soon, he could not find it in himself to hurry. He was confident in his victory.
Stepping past another body and the pool of blood that had formed beneath it, he continued his stroll to where he knew the boy was. The boy that would make his vague dream a reality.
He rounded a corner and came face to face with another auxiliary manager too weak to have been sent to the front lines. Ever since he had set up the barrier, they had come running out like headless flies, to no real surprise.
"What are yo-"
"Shhhh, listen," he cut the man off with his hands in a shushing motion.
But he didn't expect the man who barely escaped monkey status to be smart in particular.
"Stay back. Gojo-sama is-"
The man was loud, which is why he never heard the beating of heavy wings as the curse swooped down on him like a mighty bird of prey, slamming into the suited man so hard all that remained of him was a small crater filled with blood, meat, and bile compressed into a suit.
Geto tiptoed past the scene, avoiding the stain such mongrel blood would no doubt leave on his robes. The curse took off once more, flapping four massive wings and buffeting his face with the wind of its takeoff, resuming its role as his eyes in the sky and his scalpel to ambush the unwary with because, for some reason, sorcerers hardly even seemed to look up.
The curse was one of the few curses available to him. He had a counter for Satoru in Miguel, so he didn't expect the six-eyes user to appear anytime soon.
He was certain the jittery higher-ups would've forced Jiki to participate at Shibuya instead of doing the smart thing and keeping him as a reserve. No, Jiki would be forced to prove his loyalty on the front lines, and for that particular reason, he had sent his most uncanny curses at him, leaving him with a bare couple of grade-two curses and his trump card.
He could feel Master Tengen's presence and gaze on him, uncaring, indifferent, and blasé. Perhaps the immortal sorcerer approved of his goals. No doubt she could see the benefit of his cause.
The millennia-old sorcerer had seemed like a generally apathetic woman on the few occasions they were forced to interact, generally uninterested in the daily happenings and seemingly doing what she did just out of an old sense of duty.
He stepped into a courtyard, another one with memories, and before he could reminisce, he could feel a hole in his veil appear in his veil and he froze in shock for a second.
Satoru? Impossible. The arrogant man would have obliterated the whole thing instead of only a part.
Jiki? He doubted he would've ever even known about it until it was too late.
He let his hands move to his jaw as he thought with a confident smirk. Small fries then. It would take them at least five minutes to get-
The wall to his side broke inward from a thunderous blow that sent shrapnel-like bullets at his face. He skipped back lightly and raised his voluminous robe, quickly reinforced with cursed energy, to block his face.
The dulled echo of the improvised projectile slamming into his robes seized, and he dropped his hand to face his opponent.
A single glance was all he needed to figure out what he was facing. One of that muscle-headed principal's treasured puppets, no doubt.
"Who are you and what are you doing here?" the white and black creature asked, unsure as it stared at his blood-splattered robes.
He raised a brow before he finally realized. Ah, he had never considered they wouldn't recognize him. He doubted the school openly talked about him, and he had changed his plans of confronting them head-on earlier after he came in contact with Jiki-kun.
He grinned at the panda, keeping in mind the way the other still-hidden person seemed to sneak behind him. It was time for him to see the caliber of sorcerers his best friend had created. Sorcerers that would continue the legacy they would leave behind.
"Your senpai," he finally replied as he sunk into a combat stance. "Come and pay your respects to your honoured elder."