Hasegumo hadn't even reached the cabin when the frantic, sharp barking of Hachi reached his ears. Without a second thought, he broke into a dead sprint.
The sight that met him was a carnage of blood. Old Man Hasegawa's upper body was simply... gone. Only the lower half remained, blood geysering from the jagged waist. Hachi stood to the left of the remains, letting out low, guttural growls—half-terror, half-threat—at seemingly empty air.
Hasegumo looked in that direction. There was nothing.
As Hachi's head slowly tracked something moving toward Hasegumo, cold dread seized his heart.
Something is coming. But I can't see it.
A line of blood sprayed. A long, deep gash suddenly ripped across Hasegumo's torso, from his left shoulder down to his lower right abdomen. Agony flooded his brain, followed instantly by a primal terror of death and a desperate, clawing hunger for life. As his mind adjusted to the pain, a chaotic blend of panic and icy-clear focus intertwined in his thoughts.
Then, suddenly, he could see it.
A massive spider, supported by eight long, blade-like legs, loomed before him. He moved by reflex, drawing the handgun, flicking the safety, and firing twice at the creature. The bullets passed straight through its body as if hitting smoke. Hasegumo threw himself into a backroll, narrowly dodging a scything leg.
There was no time to mourn Hasegawa.
I can win this.
He dropped the gun. He could feel a surge of power rising from his gut, flowing like liquid fire into his limbs. With a single thought, the technique engraved into his very soul activated. He didn't need instructions; he just knew.
He lunged.
His left hand parried a chitinous leg while his right fist drove a straight punch into the spider's core. It felt like hitting silk or soft tofu—there was zero resistance. His fist tore through the creature's center, and a spray of foul, blackish-green ichor doused him from head to toe.
The spider might have shrieked, or perhaps it was silent. It simply dissolved into ash, scattering like dust in the wind.
Hasegumo stood there, trembling, struck by the utter fragility of life.
He felt the strange energy recede toward his navel. Simultaneously, the ragged wound on his chest began to pull together, closing until only a horrific, jagged scar remained.
Hasegumo buried what was left of the old man. He had promised to look after the man in his old age and see him off at the end; in the end, he could only do the latter.
Life was such a brief, fragile thing. Hasegumo didn't know where that spider monster had come from, but he suspected it had something to do with that woman—Kaori Itadori.
He returned to the cabin to pack. Under the old man's bed, he found a crate of books. He knelt and pulled one out, flipping it open.
"The essence of Cursed Energy is negative emotion. It exists within everyone..."
It was only then that the truth hit him: this was the world of Jujutsu Kaisen. In his memories of the anime, there were only two major institutions—the Jujutsu High schools in Tokyo and Kyoto. However, joining them meant taking on missions to exorcise Curses.
He wasn't sure if he had the "talent" for it. In the series, most Cursed Techniques were innate, yet he had awakened his after the fact. The only Curse he'd ever seen was that giant spider, and since he couldn't gauge its strength, he had no baseline for his own power.
Since this was the JJK world, he didn't know where Yuji Itadori lived, but he could head toward Kyoto Jujutsu High. If he ever met the protagonist, he might find a lead on Kaori Itadori. If she really was responsible for the spider that killed the old man, he would find a way to settle the debt.
After cleaning himself up and changing into another set of worn clothes, Hasegumo and Hachi hitched a ride toward Kyoto. Along the way, he pored over the old man's books, reflecting on his new ability.
His Cursed Technique was called Cursed Energy Liberation.
The effect was straightforward: when activated, the maximum amount of Cursed Energy that could coat his body doubled. In combat, sorcerers used Cursed Energy to bolster their physical stats, offense, and defense, but there was usually a limit to how much energy one's body could hold at once. His technique broke that limit, allowing for a much higher density of reinforcement.
It was a simple technique. More importantly, it merely "deployed" energy without changing its properties, meaning it didn't actually "consume" extra Cursed Energy to maintain. He could keep it active throughout an entire fight, giving him a massive advantage in close-quarters combat.
Compared to the heavy hitters he remembered, this seemed... okay. It was better than Yuji's initial lack of a technique, but it couldn't hold a candle to Megumi Fushiguro's Ten Shadows, let alone Satoru Gojo's Limitless. Since his path was clearly destined for physical brawling, he decided that "Revealing One's Hand" would be his best strategy.
In the world of Jujutsu, explaining one's technique to an opponent—a Binding Vow—increased its effectiveness.
Then there was his physical prowess. His body in this life was naturally gifted, though he wasn't sure if that was an inherent trait or an effect of his Cursed Energy. Regardless, his actual fighting skill was non-existent. That punch against the spider had been a crude, amateur strike that hadn't even utilized his full weight. It was only the sheer output of his technique that had vaporized the Curse.
Finally, there was the fact that he seemed to have instinctively mastered Reverse Cursed Technique (RCT). The healed wound on his chest was proof.
However, his efficiency was abysmal. It had taken ten minutes to close a single wound, and it had left a scar. It was nothing like Sukuna's near-instant limb regeneration.
Trying to manipulate his Cursed Energy on the bus, he found it wasn't as fluid as it had been during the life-or-death struggle. There was a clunky delay when moving the energy around his body—a delay that only vanished when he activated his Cursed Technique.
He also noticed he could coat more energy on his upper body than his lower, likely because his torso was physically more developed. Physical training is going to be mandatory, he noted.
A wet sensation on his cheek broke his train of thought. Hachi was licking his face. He reached out and gently patted the dog's head. "It's just you and me now, buddy."
The driver was an unusually silent man. He didn't say a word the whole trip, nor did he question whether a kid in tattered clothes could afford the fare.
They arrived in Kyoto as evening fell. Neon lights flickered across the cityscape in a kaleidoscope of colors.
"So this is Japan in the 2000s," Hasegumo whispered. "It already feels so modern."
He found a hotel that accepted pets, checked in, and then went out to buy some fresh clothes. Back in the room, Hachi curled up quietly on the carpet.
As Hasegumo lay on the bed, a thought occurred to him: If the old man had a box of books on Jujutsu... was he a sorcerer too?
But after five years of living together, he had never seen Hasegawa perform a single supernatural feat. He was convinced the man had been a regular person.
I'll have to ask around once I make contact with the Jujutsu world.
He spent the night skimming the crate of books—there were nearly twenty, mostly covering the basics of Cursed Energy manipulation and Barrier Techniques. He felt like a child with a new toy, experimenting with his energy based on the descriptions he could understand.
He realized he couldn't use his RCT on others. Furthermore, while he could generate positive energy, he couldn't perform a "Cursed Technique Reversal" like Gojo's Red by fueling his innate technique with positive energy.
When his reserves finally ran low, he lay back and contemplated the future. His original plan was simple: care for the old man, get a job, and travel. A peaceful, ordinary life. But the appearance of Curses had shattered that. In this world, Curses were everywhere.
Since he had awakened, he was bound to encounter them again. Without the power to protect himself, there could be no peace. He needed strength—enough of it to eventually find a quiet job and enjoy the beauty of being alive.
Plan for tomorrow: 1. Get a job to make money. 2. Train my body and Jujutsu. 3. Investigate Kaori Itadori's link to that Curse and avenge the Old Man.
With those goals in mind, he drifted off.
He dreamt he had mastered Domain Expansion and become a Special Grade sorcerer. He was punching Gojo and kicking Sukuna. Just as he reached the pinnacle of his life, a woman leaned in. She had Kaori Itadori's face and the stitches on her forehead, and she started kissing him.
Hasegumo woke up with a shudder of disgust, only to find Hachi by his pillow, licking his face.
He sat up and looked at the morning sun. Pressing his hands together in a gesture of gratitude, he welcomed the new day.
In the flow of traffic, people hurried past. Quite a few had small, fist-sized Curses shaped like flies hovering on their shoulders. Fly Heads. Most were harmless, merely making a person's shoulders feel heavy, but the sheer number of them was striking.
As he walked with Hachi, Hasegumo would occasionally reach out and flick a Fly Head away, exorcising it. The people he "helped" didn't know; they just thought he was a bit eccentric. Helping them, however, filled him with a quiet satisfaction.
Life was simple. Since he only had the old man's meager savings, he couldn't afford a downtown apartment. He eventually found a very cheap rental through an agency. The agent warned him it was "haunted."
Probably just a few low-level Curses, Hasegumo thought. He left Hachi at the hotel and took a taxi to the address.
"Man, this place is out in the sticks," he muttered. He watched the driver sweat as he navigated the car through impossibly narrow alleyways. Finally, the driver pulled up with a look of immense pride.
"Here we are! Not many people could drive you all the way to this door."
"Uh... true." Hasegumo looked out the window. There were only a few centimeters of clearance between the car and the walls on either side. "Your driving is impressive, but... how am I supposed to get out?"
The driver scratched his head, his face twisting into a comical grimace. "Right. Uh... I'll just back out then."
The driver reversed all the way out of the alley. Hasegumo paid the fare and watched him leave.
Another interesting person encountered today.
He walked toward the rental—a two-story detached house, the kind you'd see in Crayon Shin-chan. Typical of Japanese residential architecture from that era.
It was a gloomy day, cold wind whistling through the trees with a hint of rain. The house looked undeniably eerie, and he could sense a faint, lingering trace of Cursed Energy.
Being cautious, he checked the perimeter. Seeing no one around, he cupped his hands around his mouth like a megaphone.
"My technique is called Cursed Energy Liberation! It allows me to double the density of Cursed Energy covering my body!"
He felt his energy spike. The Binding Vow had taken effect, confirming there was indeed a Curse inside. According to the anime, he should probably set up a Curtain first.
However, since he was just going to punch things, he didn't expect to cause a scene. Besides, while the books had instructions for Curtains, he hadn't learned how to cast them yet.
He activated his technique and pushed the door open.
"Spiders again?" Hasegumo felt a wave of revulsion.
The one that killed Hasegawa had been large, metallic, and almost cybernetic. Back then, his mind had been too blank to feel disgusted. But this house was infested with about a dozen of them, each the size of a dog. The largest was nearly four feet tall. Standing at only five-foot-three himself, seeing these fuzzy, hulking arachnids was unsettling.
"Hope they aren't poisonous," he muttered. "Whatever. Let's go."
They were weak—likely Grade 4. He lunged at the smallest one and threw a punch. It felt even softer than the metallic one; it vanished instantly upon contact.
The rest swarmed him, snapping at his legs. Hasegumo didn't flinch. With his technique active, his energy responded to his will without delay. He shifted his reinforcement to his lower body. The spiders' fangs couldn't even break the skin.
He unleashed a flurry of "wild-swing" punches, and within seconds, the house was clear.
"Done. That was easy. Maybe I should become an exorcist?" he mused. "Actually, nah. Too dangerous. Let the professionals handle it. I wonder what grade I'd be if I joined Jujutsu High..."
"Name?"
"Hasegumo."
"Age?"
"Uh, fourteen."
The policeman looking over his paperwork glanced at him, wrote down '14,' and stood up to pat his shoulder.
"What's the plan, kid? Want to go to school? If you have no family, there are free public options."
"No thanks. My grandpa left me some money and I've rented a place. I'm going to find a job. I lived with him in the mountains my whole life, so I never went to school. I'd never keep up with the curriculum. But thank you, Officer."
The officer, a man named Yamamoto, looked him over. Plain face, buzz cut, average build—a total "background character" look. The kid had lost his family and couldn't even find his parents' records; he was a tragic case. Yet, he seemed so full of energy. It was hard not to like him.
"Alright. If you run into trouble, come find me at the station. My name is Yamamoto. If I'm not here, just ask for help. We're all good people here."
Hasegumo stood up and pressed his hands together.
"Thank you, Officer. I'll come by if I need anything. I need to go clean up the new place and look for work tomorrow. See ya!"
He left his new address and the location of the old cabin.
"Go on then. Once we verify everything, we'll send over your ID papers." Yamamoto waved the form, and Hasegumo waved back as he walked out the door.