Greetings Fellow Readers, MasterW here
I know, a month without updates, I'm sorry for that.
But, better late than never. Am I right?
If my schedule is generous, I will try to publish at least two new chapters this week, if not, I will try at least another one.
Or, there is the chance of shorter chapters and more frequent.
What do you guys think?
Also, concerning this chapter, I saw this image and it instantly came to my mind.
--->
So yeah, our boy Shigeo deserves a W
Anyhow, without any further to do, enjoy!
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(Zen'in Mai)
Pain was all Mai knew whenever she entered the Zen'in Clan's main building. Since childhood, it had been her only lesson, suffering and helplessness. Her body still throbbed from the recent encounter, her mind clouded with a mixture of anger and exhaustion.
She moved quickly through the hallways, clutching her bag tightly, trying to ignore the dull ache in her stomach. She had only come to grab a few things before returning to Kyoto Jujutsu High.
But fate had other plans, she didn't expect to run into him so soon.
The voice of the bastard cut through the air, cold and mocking. "What's the matter, Maki-chan? Giving up so soon?"
Zen'in Naoya's footsteps echoed in the room. Without hesitation, he stomped onto her stomach, forcing a grimace from her lips. The pain shot through her like lightning, but she refused to show it.
"Man, you don't work as a proper punching bag," Naoya sneered, voice dripping with contempt
She clenched her teeth, holding back the swear that threatened to spill. Speaking would only make things worse
She knew that all too well.
So, she remained silent, her fists trembling with suppressed rage.
From the hall came a new voice, calm but urgent. "Naoya-sama, Naobito-sama requires you," a young man entered, disheveled black hair tied loosely into a low ponytail. His eyes flickered to her for a microsecond before returning firmly to Naoya, not a hint of emotion
Naoya's eyes flicked toward him with disdain. "Tch," he spat, before delivering one last vicious kick to her stomach. "Way to ruin the fun. Haa, I'll see what that old man wants."
He turned without another glance and strode away, leaving her crumpled on the cold floor. His footsteps fading down the corridor.
Ranta waited until Naoya had disappeared before kneeling beside her. He helped Mai sit up carefully.
"You okay, Mai-san?" he asked softly, kneeling beside her and offering a steadying hand
"I'm okay, Ranta-niisan" she said quietly, voice trembling but steady.
He nodded, a faint regret crossing his face. "I'm sorry I can't do more."
"No… I get it."
She understood perfectly. Ranta was one of the very few decent people left in this rotten clan. He had helped both her and Maki when they were younger and still tried to help her when he could.
But he was only a subordinate in the Hei squad. Opposing Naoya, the captain, wasn't something he could risk
"Jion-senpai is out on a mission. You should have waited for him before coming here."
"I know," Mai muttered as she slowly stood up with his help. "It was a mistake."
Zen'in Jion was another rare good one. He used to sneak them candy when they were little. But even he was only part of the Kukuru Unit, far below the Hei. There wasn't much he could do.
Usually when she needs something from the clan, he helps her to sneak out whatever she needs, but he wasn't in the Clan's grounds, so she came to get it herself
"You should grab what you need and leave quickly. Naoya-sama won't take long," Ranta advised softly.
"Thanks, Ranta-nii-san."
He gave her one last concerned look before walking away.
Mai moved as fast as her aching body allowed, gathering the few things she had come for.
She just needed to hold, and resist. At least, there is the comfort that the torture hasn't turned to that
...…Yet
The moment she stepped outside the oppressive walls of the main building, some of the pressure in her chest eased.
Her phone rang just as she reached the edge of the clan grounds.
She pulled it out and saw the caller ID.
{Maki}
Mai's expression twisted. She answered the call with a venomous, saccharine tone.
"My, my~ Look who's calling. What is it this time, dear sister? Do you need money or something?"
The sarcasm dripped from every word, laced with clear hostility
There was a short pause on the other end.
"{Mai}" Maki replied, her voice flat and ignoring the venom. "{You went to the estate again, didn't you?}"
Mai let out a cold laugh
"Oh? And what if I did? Worried about me now? How touching."
Maki didn't rise to the bait. Instead, she spoke with the quiet certainty that only came from being twins.
"{I can feel it, you're breathing heavier than usual. I've known you long enough to recognize when you're in pain, even from far away}"
Mai's grip tightened on the phone.
Of course, Maki would know. They were twins. No matter how much they hated each other, that connection refused to disappear completely
And Maki knew, every time she went to the Zen'in Clan, Mai would suffer pain.
That just made her aching stomach sting a little bit more.
"{Did Naoya find you?}" Maki asked directly.
Mai's sarcastic mask stayed firmly in place
"Why do you care? It's not like you've ever been able to stop him. Or maybe you just feel guilty for running off to Tokyo while leaving me behind?"
Another heavy silence stretched between them.
Maki's tone remained steady, though there was a slight edge to it now.
"{Listen… something happened while you were gone. I talked with Yoshioka-sensei}"
Mai raised an eyebrow, keeping her voice mocking.
"The handsome teacher from Chiba? The one who beat Gojo? I heard they just opened the new Chiba Jujutsu High. What about him?"
"{He said he can help me realize my full potential}" Maki continued. "{He said he can make me fully realize my Heavenly Restriction, and become like Zen'in Toji}"
"Who is that?" Zen'in Toji? She has never heard of someone like that in the clan
"{Keep this to yourself and don't spread it inside the clan, he is apparently a kind of taboo, but to keep it simple, he had zero cursed energy, and his body was strong, like, really strong. He left the clan a long time ago}"
Zero cursed energy and physically gifted? That sounds just like Maki to her, if Maki were a 100yen-store version of that man
"So, Yoshioka can help you achieve that sort of strength?"
"{Exactly. He said can erase the cursed energy from my body completely. It'll hurt like hell, apparently. But after that… I'll be much stronger. No more half-measures}"
Mai leaned against a nearby tree as fresh pain pulsed through her bruised stomach.
"And there's a catch, right?" she asked, her voice still carrying that mocking edge, though it had grown slightly quieter.
"{Because we're twins, they said our fates are connected. If I go through with it… you'll probably go through the same process too. Whether you want to or not}"
Mai's eyes narrowed. The idea of becoming truly strong, strong enough that Naoya and the rest of those bastards could never touch her again or at least leave her alone, was dangerously tempting
Maki continued, her voice softening just a fraction.
"{I'm not deciding anything without you. If you don't want this… I won't do it. We can keep going like this. But I want both of us to do this, together…}"
Mai let out a bitter chuckle, the sound sharp and cold.
"Together? That's rich coming from you. You've always been so eager to get stronger and leave me in the dust to fend for myself. Now you suddenly want my opinion?"
She paused, her fingers digging into the bark of the tree.
"I'll think about it," Mai finally said, her voice losing some of its venom but still guarded "But don't do anything reckless without telling me first, dear sister."
"{Same goes for you}" Maki replied. "{Stop going to that shithole alone}"
Mai didn't bother with a goodbye. She simply hung up the call.
For a long moment, she stared back toward the distant silhouette of the Zen'in main building, her expression dark
Pain had been the only lesson they had ever taught her.
Maybe it was time she learned something new.
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The sleek black car pulled up to the hospital's main entrance, its engine purring to a quiet stop. The hospital building right beside them
The driver's side door opened first. Sakurada Nao stepped out with a happy expression on her face as she adjusted her glasses. She smoothed down her professional attire and moved to open the rear door, but Mai had already pushed it open herself
Sakurajima Mai emerged from the car, her new school uniform crisp and her expression carrying that familiar edge of determination. Her eyes swept the hospital's facade, already trying to feel the Cursed Energy on the air, a habit Akira had drilled into all his students, and Yotsuba Miko mastered on top of every one of her fellow students thanks to her Cursed Technique
"Quite the place," she murmured
Zaimozuka Yoshiteru climbed out from the other side adjusting his glasses
The passenger door opened last
Yoshioka Akira stepped out, and the very air around the car seemed to settle. He was dressed simply, a dark dress shirt on him, and gray khaki pants
Nao hurried around the car. A tablet clutched to her chest. "Yoshioka-sensei, I've confirmed the appointment with Nakano-dono. He's waiting in the main lobby. Should I accompany you inside, or—"
"That won't be necessary," Akira said, his voice even and unhurried. "Wait here. We won't be long."
"Understood!" Nao bowed slightly, though her eyes lingered on him a moment longer than strictly professional
Mai noticed. Her eye twitched almost imperceptibly, but she said nothing, instead moving to walk beside Akira as he headed toward the hospital's sliding glass doors.
The automatic doors parted with a soft hiss, and the scent of antiseptic washed over them. The hospital's main lobby full with a dozen or so people, either patients or patients' families.
And there, near the reception desk, stood Nakano Maruo.
He was a man visibly eroded by worry. His suit was impeccably tailored and obviously expensive, but his face told a different story entirely. Heavy, dark eyebags sagged beneath his eyes, evidence of countless sleepless nights. His posture, which had likely once been ramrod straight with confidence, now carried a slight haggardness
When his tired eyes landed on the approaching trio, something flickered in them. Recognition
The memory of the Shinomiya Gala flashed behind his eyes
"Yoshioka-sama?" Maruo's voice carried a slight tremor and sudden alertness. He straightened instinctively, the businessman's mask sliding back into place even as his exhaustion betrayed him. "Do you require medical attention? I can help you get a specialist immediately"
Akira stopped before him, his crimson eyes meeting Maruo's with that characteristic calm. "Nothing of the sort, Nakano-dono." His voice was measured "You requested Jujutsu High's help with dealing with an apparent Curse User that attacked your daughter"
Maruo stared.
The words hung in the sterile air between them, and for a long moment, everything seemed to vanish from their eyes. All of it became background noise to the sudden, crystalline clarity forming in Maruo's mind
The pieces clicked together in his mind
"You are...?!" he breathed. The question laced with nervous urgency.
Akira merely nodded. A simple, affirmative gesture that confirmed everything he hoped for "I would prefer if you keep it to yourself," he added quietly, his voice carrying an unassuming authority
Maruo's nod was visibly nervous and quick. "Of course. Of course." He swallowed hard, composing himself. "Please, follow me. She's in a private room on the third floor."
He turned and led them through the hospital's long, impersonal corridors
Mai walked close to Akira's side, Zaimozuka trailed slightly behind
They passed through a set of heavy double doors, then another, moving deeper into the hospital's private wing. Here, the corridors were quieter, more exclusive. The doors were spaced further apart, each one bearing a small plaque with a name.
Finally, they arrived.
Two men in dark suits stood guard outside a door near the end of the hall. They were large, broad-shouldered, with the kind of impassive expressions that spoke of professionals. Their eyes tracked the approaching group with silent assessment, but when they recognized Maruo, they offered a brief nod
Maruo returned the gesture with a tired wave of his hand. "They're with me"
The guards stepped aside without a word.
Maruo pushed open the door, and the scene within struck with immediate, uncanny force.
Nakano Yotsuba lay on the hospital bed, motionless and unresponsive. Her face, or at least what could be seen, was pale, too pale. Her body bore the visible marks of violence. Bruises bloomed across her exposed arms like dark flowers. Bandages wrapped portions of her torso and face, and monitors beeped a steady, rhythmic accompaniment to her shallow breathing being helped by the respirator machine by her side
But it was the four figures surrounding her bed that truly called their attention
They were identical. The same face, the same build, the same shade of hair, four mirror images clustered around their fallen sister like a protective wall. Their expressions varied in subtle ways, one's brow furrowed with barely contained anger, another's eyes red-rimmed from recent tears, a third's jaw set in stoic determination, but the resemblance was absolute.
Mai's eyes swept across them with a flicker of recognition. "They are the quintuplets that just transferred to school" She said aloud
Ichika, standing closest to the door, noticed Mai immediately. Her mind, well-versed in the world of gossip and public image, quickly noticed the other girl's presence. She seemingly was a model from the same school. The one everyone's been talking about.
'What is she doing here?'
Then her gaze shifted to the man standing beside Mai.
Her eyes widened slightly.
'Wait. Is that Yoshioka-sensei? Is this a visit from the school?' The thought filled her with surprise
Akira walked forward.
He didn't glance at the sisters. Didn't acknowledge their stares or their presence. He walked past them, his attention cutting through the room like a blade aimed solely at the girl in the bed.
"Hey!" Nino's voice was sharp, protective, and laced with immediate suspicion. She stepped forward, positioning herself between Akira and Yotsuba. The face looked familiar to her, but her grief-filled mind was to overloaded to try and refresh her memory "What are you doing?! Who are you?"
Akira calmly ignored her.
He stopped beside Yotsuba's bed, his crimson eyes moving over her form with a deep focus. He could feel it, the lingering residue of cursed energy, clinging to her like a foul stain.
Mai leaned forward slightly. Her own gaze fixed on the unconscious girl. "What's the verdict, Sensei?" she asked, her voice earnest
"It was indeed the result of a Curse User or Cursed Spirit" Akira replied "There is the lingering feeling of cursed energy in her. But if it was a Cursed Spirit, she would be dead"
The four sisters watched this exchange with growing bewilderment. The terms were foreign, but the gravity in the man's tone was unmistakable.
Akira turned to Maruo. His voice was steady, reassuring in its absolute calm. "I can heal her if you prefer."
Maruo's response was instantaneous. Desperate. His voice cracked with fervent hope as he stepped forward. "Yes! Please, please do so!"
Akira nodded, a subtle inclination of his head.
He placed his hand gently on Yotsuba's shoulder.
And then the impossible happened.
The visible wounds on Yotsuba's body began to knit themselves together with astonishing, impossible speed. The bruises, those dark flowers adorning her body faded like ink being washed away by clear water. The swelling around her closed eyes receded. The shallow, labored breathing in her chest deepened and steadied. Color returned to her cheeks, a soft, healthy pink replacing the deathly pale white
It was silent and utterly magical.
Around the bed, the reaction was a symphony of stunned disbelief.
Nino's mouth fell open, her anger evaporating into pure, uncomprehending shock. Miku's red-rimmed eyes went wide, tears still glistening on her lashes but now forgotten. Itsuki's stoic expression cracked, her jaw going slack. Ichika's hand rose unconsciously to cover her mouth, a sharp intake of breath hissing between her fingers.
Zaimozuka watched with quiet fascination, it was always fascinating seeing the mechanics of the Reverse Cursed Technique in action. Mai simply smiled, a small, proud curve of her lips
And Maruo...
Maruo felt his knees go weak. The heavy, dark eyebags that had sagged beneath his eyes seemed to lighten as a profound, relieved hope flooded his features. His daughter. His precious daughter.
On the bed, Yotsuba's fingers twitched.
Her eyelids fluttered.
And for the first time since the attack, Nakano Yotsuba opened her eyes
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Shigeo and Lala stood on the rooftop opposite to a windowless warehouse. The industrial district was quiet, the air humming with a faint smell of oil and cigarettes
"Okay, so what now, Shigeo-kun?" Lala asked, peering over the edge with keen interest
Shigeo's shoulders slumped slightly. "I... actually don't know," he admitted, his voice soft. "I'm not very good with planning. Maybe we need to first map out the place? Sensei said to deal with the Cursed Spirit influencing them, but we should probably understand what's happening inside first" He felt the familiar pang of inadequacy.
Even if he is a Special Grade on paper, he feels he hasn't truly earned that title
Lala's face lit up with an idea. "Mapping! That's a perfect job for..." She rummaged in a small, seemingly ordinary pouch at her side, her movements quick and precise. With a soft shink, she produced a sleek, silver device about the size of a smartphone, but covered in tiny, blinking lights and a small holographic projector. "...the Lala-Love Beam Mapper 5000!" she announced proudly, holding it aloft.
Shigeo blinked. "The... Lala-Love Beam...? Where did you get that, Lala-san?"
Lala's cheerful expression softened into something more earnest. "I made it! Well, I modified a standard Devilukean terrain scanner. I... I wanted to help Shigeo-kun. I know I can't sense curses or fight them like you can, and I felt... pretty useless on a mission like this. So, I made something useful!" She presented the device to him with both hands, her eyes hopeful
Shigeo stared at the oddly named device, then at Lala's sincere face.
A warm feeling, small but bright, pushed back against his anxiety. "Thank you, Lala-san," he said, a genuine, small smile touching his lips. "That's really thoughtful."
"Just point it at the building and think about scanning!" Lala instructed, beaming.
Shigeo took the Lala-Love Beam Mapper 5000. He focused his intent, and a thin, pink beam of light lanced from the device, sweeping across the warehouse facade.
A complex, rotating 3D hologram of the building's interior sprang to life above the projector. It showed a labyrinth of storage corridors surrounding a large, central chamber, an amphitheater.
Dozens, no, hundreds of small, white dots representing life signs were densely packed within it, all facing a central stage. The scan was clean, detailed, and incredibly helpful.
"It's a big room inside. Everyone is in there," Shigeo reported, his confidence bolstered by the clear data. "We should get closer."
With a plan now informed by the scan, Shigeo used his telekinesis to float them both across the gap to the warehouse's flat roof. At his quiet command, the metal door of the rooftop access crumpled inwards silently, peeled open like the lid of a can.
They slipped inside, descending a concrete stairwell into the dim, echoing underbelly of the building.
The corridors were stark, lit by sporadic bare bulbs. And they were not empty. Figures moved in the shadows, their faces hidden behind plain white masks, each painted with a single, exaggerated, grinning smile.
The masks were all uniform. Shigeo and Lala pressed themselves into an alcove, watching as the smiling sentinels patrolled.
Following the map from Lala's device, they navigated towards the central chamber. The sound reached them first, a low, rhythmic murmur that grew into a cacophony of unified laughter and chanting. Peering from a service entrance into the vast amphitheater
Hundreds of people, all in simple grey robes and wearing those same white smiling masks, stood packed together, their bodies swaying slightly. All attention was focused on the stage. On it stood a young woman with beige-colored hair and a digital camera around her neck, looking apprehensive. Beside her was a haggard-looking office worker, his shoulders slumped forward
"He's here," the crowd murmured, a wave of anticipation passing through them.
"Lord Dimple"
"Lord Dimple"
"Our Lord"
Then he appeared.
A figure in robes, wearing a mask like the others, but his was framed by a black veil, and his white mask featured bright red blush circles on the cheeks. He strode to the center of the stage with theatrical flair.
"Tell me, everyone..." the cult leader's voice boomed and echoed through the amphitheater "Are you laughing?!?"
"HEHEHEHEH!" The response was instantaneous. A deafening wave of giggles and forced laughter erupted from hundreds of throats, filling the space with a sound that was joyous and deeply unsettling
"Huh, they all seem crazy," Lala whispered, her nose wrinkled.
Shigeo could only nod, his senses detecting large amounts of cursed energy, all conversing onto the man in from of the multitude.
"Hahahaha! Well, I guess we are all warmed up now!" The one called Lord Dimple grabbed the edges of his mask. "How about we take this mask off, then? Heeheehee!"
With a flourish, he removed it.
The face beneath was that of a young man with sharp, crescent-shaped eyes squeezed shut in mirth and a wide, manic grin stretching across his features. The bright red blush remained on his actual cheeks. He leaned forward dramatically, holding the mask aloft.
"Oh, what nice smiles you have, everyone…!" he crooned. "They are full of happiness!"
"HAHAHAHAHAHA!""HAHAHAHAHAHA!"
The laughter reached a fever pitch, a wall of sound that vibrated throughout the room
"Stop."
Silence.
The command was absolute. In an instant, the roaring laughter ceased, cut off so completely the sudden quiet was shocking. Not a chuckle, not a cough. The crowd stood, perfectly still and silent.
"We have two new members joining us today!" Lord Dimple announced, gesturing to the terrified pair on stage. "Applause!!"
CLAP. CLAP. CLAP.
The synchronized clapping was as unnerving as the laughter had been.
"Our missionary work is bearing fruit... and that's the best news of all!" He spun, addressing the crowd, arms spread wide. "Now, these two unhappy flower-pots have been led to us today. Let's look at their faces. Such Misery!! And why is that?!"
He paused, letting the question hang in the dead air before whirling back, arms thrusting out towards the audience as if offering a divine revelation.
"Because they are not smiling!" he proclaimed. "Smile... and laugh...! Pour a guffaw into your bare and suffering soul...! Let chuckles coat, soothe, and relieve your upset head...!!!"
"if you always smile, you will become happy, that is the essence of our doctrine here," Lord Dimple spread his arms and preached. "But if you don't laugh.... Then your unhappy life will continue... Until you die."
The haggard-looking office worker scoffed. "Pfft! If smiling could make you happy, life could be so easy!"
"Who is this...?" Lord Dimple asked, pointing a dramatic finger.
One of the cult members raised her hand. "I found him lost in thought on a park bench on a weekday afternoon. So, I took him here."
"A true victim... Of un-happiness!" Lord Dimple exclaimed. "Society is to blame! It's only natural you would become abject! And I can understand how you would lose the ability to laugh...!!"
Then, he raised a white mask, identical to those his followers wore. "But it's all right! If you simply put on this 'smile mask' infused with my power and correct yourself…. You'll be grinning again before you know it!!!"
The cult members moved as one, grabbing the man by his shoulders and arms.
"Please rest assured. We're not going to take your money."
"Hey....Stop it!" the man protested, struggling weakly against the multitude.
The smiling mask was placed on his head.
"We just want you to be smiling…" Lord Dimple crooned. "Now you'll be one of us too."
He turned his unsettling gaze to the girl with the camera. "And finally, this girl, looks like you wanted to say something too"
The girl swallowed hard but stood her ground. She launched into an explanation, her voice a mix of forced professionalism and underlying fear "My name is Mezato Ichi. I'm a reporter for the Chiba School's Newspaper Club. There have been rumors about a group that gathers people under unusual circumstances, promising happiness but leading to... changes in behavior. This 'Smile Cult,' founded just over a month ago, has seen a rapid and concerning growth in membership. I came to investigate the validity of these claims"
From the shadows, Shigeo facepalmed softly 'Sensei was right, civilians tend to be dumb'
"Rumours....." Lord Dimple drew the word out, his voice dripping with a theatrical, wounded sincerity. "How curious... You weren't brought here by one of my joyful followers, were you? You came seeking shadows where there is only light." He tilted his head, the red circles on his cheeks seemed to shine "There is no such thing as the rumours you speak of. Only the happiness we share. But since you seek proof... let me show you how authentic we are!"
The followers pulled the mask from the office worker's face. Beneath it, he wore a wide, rigid grin that seemed plastered onto his skin, his eyes vacant and glassy. A loud, hollow laugh burst from him. "Hehehehe! How weird, I'm not having fun but I'm laughing!"
"Well, good for you! What a nice smile!" Dimple cheered, clapping his hands together. "You see? The chains of unhappiness are shattered! The transformation is real!"
"Hehe, well, not bad I guess!" the man cackled, his laughter growing more strained and manic. "Hehehehhe! This feels good! Heheheheh!"
Dimple's face swiveled back to Mezato, the mirth in his voice cooling by several degrees. "So. Do you still think I'm a fraud, young lady? Does your 'investigation' find us lacking?"
Mezato took an involuntary step back, the journalist's bravado crumbling under the weight of the utterly wrong scene before her "Umm... I... I have nothing to expose, then. I'll be leaving now," she stammered, her desire to flee overriding all else.
"That will not do," Dimple said, his voice dropping to a dangerous, smooth purr. "You can't simply levy accusations of falsehood and then scurry away. Spreading such doubts would sow unhappiness in the public mind... and more importantly, it would fester as unhappiness within you. A seed of doubt is a painful thing to carry."
"I'm sorry!" Mezato's voice was tight with panic. "I won't write about you! I promise!"
"So, you'll neither condemn nor affirm us," Dimple mused, tapping a finger against his masked chin. "That's mere neutrality... but what a true journalist should strive for is objectivity! To see things as they are!" He suddenly pointed a sharp, accusing finger at her. "But you did not come as an observer! You arrived with an agenda! To seek out problems, to create mischief where there is none... to cast doubt upon our genuine smiles!!"
He spread his arms wide, addressing the silent, watching crowd as much as her. "And if we just let you leave, carrying that agenda... it would mean allowing unhappiness to spread from here, out into the world. It would mean unhappiness for us, for failing to guide you to joy!"
The cult members began to shift, their silent, smiling masks turning in unison to face Mezato, forming an impassable wall around her.
"So, we will not let you leave," Dimple declared, his final words a chilling pronouncement that echoed in the vast space. "Not until you understand. Not until you laugh like us, truly and freely."
"That's enough"
Shigeo's quiet voice cut through the tension.
He stepped from the service entrance, Lala at his side.
With a slight lift of his chin, the cult members surrounding Mezato were suddenly wrenched upwards, levitating several feet off the ground, held in place by an invisible force
Dimple's head snapped toward the interruption. His grin didn't falter, but his crescent eyes sharpened. "Oh? A party-pooper? And that power… Oh, I see. A Jujutsu Sorcerer."
"I figured out how you work," Shigeo stated calmly. "You absorb the Cursed Energy generated by their forced laughter and fear. You're feeding on them. I'm here to stop you"
Mezato, battling her terror, gaped. "Wait… Kageyama-san? We're in the same class!"
Shigeo glanced at her. "Oh. I never noticed. Sorry for the late introduction, but you need to leave now"
"Leave? What's going on—?!" Mezato started, but a gentle hand gripped her shoulder.
"Don't worry," Lala said, pulling her back. "Let Shigeo-kun take care of it."
Dimple threw his head back and laughed, a dry, scraping sound. "Stop me? You've seen my congregation! I've been feeding on these useless humans for weeks. I'm brimming with power, teetering on the edge of Special Grade! A little first-year sorcerer like you is nothing to me!"
As he spoke, a violent green energy erupted from the still-grinning body. It coalesced into a muscular, vein-covered humanoid with a grotesque, grinning face. Dimple's true Cursed Spirit form. Malice thickened the air
"You think you're strong? Playing the hero?" Dimple's voice was a guttural rumble. "It'll only take me two seconds to deal with you. Emotionless cattle like you should stay out of other people's business!"
In a blur of green, Dimple shot forward, not at Shigeo, but past him, aiming for Lala and Mezato.
"How about I deal with your little classmates first, huh?!"
Shigeo's reaction was instant. A wall of shimmering, dense Cursed Energy materialized instantly in front of the girls, blocking the punch.
Simultaneously, his Telekinesis yanked the girls back through the air, depositing them safely behind him.
"Stay behind me," Shigeo said, his voice layered with steel
Dimple recoiled, laughing harshly. "A shield! You think you're a hero, huh? Let me show you what happens to heroes!" He shot upward toward the cult followers Shigeo was still levitating near the ceiling. "Let's see you protect them all at once!"
Shigeo intercepted.
With speed that belied his placid demeanor, he appeared in Dimple's path. A perfectly timed, reinforced punch drove into the spirit's jaw
The blow sent Dimple rocketing back down to the stage in a shower of green sparks.
The moment he felt down, Dimple was already moving once again.
A dozen semi-corporeal copies, grinning and shrieking, split from his main body, arcing through the air like green comets on different trajectories, some toward Shigeo, others veering sharply at the last second to target Lala and Mezato.
Shigeo's response was not panic, his Sensei taught him better than that. He didn't try to destroy all the copies
His right hand swept out in a flat, dismissive arc. A wave of invisible telekinetic force, finely tuned, didn't crush the copies.
He deflected them, altering their momentum and moving them by his will
The clones meant for the girls were slammed into each other mid-air, dissipating into puffs of green smoke. The ones coming for him met a different fate.
He didn't dodge. He moved through them, his body surrounded by a thin, intense shell of personal reinforcement.
The clones shattered against it like glass against steel.
"Stop ignoring me!" Dimple's main body descended from above
Shigeo pointed a single finger.
A pinpoint application of telekinesy, not on Dimple, but on the heavy industrial light fixture directly above the curse's head.
It tore free with a shriek of metal and crashed down. Dimple was forced to abort his strike, swatting the fixture aside, buying Shigeo a millisecond.
With a smooth, gliding step, Shigeo moved at extreme velocity, placing himself squarely between the girls and every possible angle of approach.
He was a living, breathing fortress wall.
Dimple switched tactics. The air grew thick as he exhaled a cloud of shimmering, psychedelic spores, a mental curse meant to induce hysterical, debilitating laughter. It washed over Shigeo, who simply took a slow, deliberate breath.
The Cursed Energy around his face vibrated at a specific frequency, a microscopic application of his power that erased the spores on contact before they could reach his lungs.
The cloud parted around him without nothing him or the two girls behind him
Frustration mounted.
Dimple liquefied his form, becoming a rushing torrent of acidic green ooze that surged across the floor, seeking to flow around Shigeo to reach his charges.
Shigeo stomped down channeling a pulse of energy through his foot.
The wooden floorboards in the ooze's path erupted upward in a sharp, controlled spike field, aiming to disrupt the flow, channeling the corrosive stream harmlessly into a nearby drainage grate.
Again and again, Dimple attacked with the ferocity of a cornered Special Grade: razor-tendrils that split the air, shrieking scream that cracked plaster, brute-force charges that could level a wall of steel
And again and again, Shigeo dismantled it all with barely making an effort.
A raised palm conjured a small, perfect barrier exactly where needed.
A flick of his wrist used telekinesis to alter the path of a projectile by a critical few degrees, sending it smashing into a vacant corner.
A slight shift of his weight always kept his body as protected
Dimple finally recoiled after a particularly furious assault, a hundred green energy daggers fired in a shotgun spread, was calmly met with a single, expanding barrier disc that intercepted every one of the daggers.
He hovered, panting, his form flickering unstable from the massive expenditure. The vacant smiles of his captured followers seemed to mock him.
The realization hit him like a physical blow. His manic joy curdled into pure, seething frustration.
"You…" he snarled, the word guttural. "You're not even trying! You're just… herding me! You're toying with me!"
He gestured wildly with a finger at Shigeo's calm expression
"Why are you just standing there?! Why aren't you FIGHTING BACK?!" His voice was a raw screech of wounded pride and dawning
He was being treated not as a worthy opponent, but as a sharpening tool.
The boy was experimenting with his technique against him. Basically using him as a sandbag for him to practice
'I am a Special Grade' Shigeo thought, his body fighting in automatic as his thoughts were elsewhere 'But I'm nowhere near Sensei. Not even close. He fights with a skill that I'm not sure I'll ever be able to imitate' The memory of Akira standing victorious over Gojo Satoru flashed in his mind, the pinnacle of absolute strength that was his teacher 'But… that doesn't mean I can't reach for it. I'm not trying to be the strongest. I'm trying to be strong enough to protect people. And I am… after all… a student of the Strongest Sorcerer'
A profound calm settled over him. His focus narrowed to a single point: end this, cleanly.
He reached the state of mentality capable of reaching...it
Dimple, sensing the shift, condensed into a spear of malignant energy for a final, desperate charge. "DIE!"
Shigeo stepped into it. His fist, wrapped in a corona of black-and-red distortion, met the spearhead.
"Black Flash"
*BLAM!*
The sound was of reality stuttering. A vortex of black and red lightning erupted.
Shigeo, had managed to hit a Black Flash.
The effect was catastrophic.
The spear disintegrated. Dimple's form contorted violently around Shigeo's fist. When Shigeo pulled back, a massive, sizzling hole was torn through the spirit's stomach.
"GAAAAAHHHH!" Dimple screamed, flung across the amphitheater
For Shigeo, the Black Flash was a key.
In that perfect, infinitesimal convergence of energy, something clicked.
The vast ocean of power within him was suddenly mapped, he understood now his power.
His control refined to a razor's edge.
The emotional dam he maintained developed a controlled mind
A tremor shook the building. Then another.
From Shigeo's body erupted a torrential wave of Cursed Energy with a dense terrifying pressure.
The air grew heavy. Dust rained from the ceiling. Lights died. Shigeo stood illuminated by a deep blue aura, his hair stirred by the radiating power.
Dimple pushed up from the rubble, form translucent, the hole gaping.
He looked at Shigeo walking toward him, slow and deliberate. The calm on the boy's face was more frightening than any rage
Terror replaced bravado. "W-wait! Stop! Let's make a deal! A binding vow! I swear, I'll serve you! I can gather energy for you! I can—!"
The pleas became a frantic babble. Shigeo didn't slow. He didn't seem to hear.
Stopping before the crippled curse, Shigeo extended his hand, palm open. No incantation. No technique name.
A simple, final act on this farce called fight
The dense Cursed Energy surrounding him focused into a pinpoint stream.
Dimple didn't even manage to scream.
His form simply disintegrated into motes of harmless light that scattered and vanished.
Then, came a silence.
The unconscious cult members stirred, confused, their smiles gone.
Shigeo let out a slow breath. The torrential energy receded, settling back into the deep well within him, now under his command.
From behind him, Mezato Ichi stared, her terror completely overridden by awe. Her camera hung forgotten at her side.
She watched Shigeo's back, the calm authority with which he had ended the nightmare, and she could only murmur, breathlessly
"...How cool"