Chapter Text
August 21st, 2021 12:21pm - National Route 468, Heading South
“It’s weird to see you driving a car,” you muse, observing the man beside you. Currently, you’re traveling down the freeway in the passenger seat of a black sedan. Satoru is at the wheel. “I kind of thought you just materialized everywhere.”
He laughs. “Man, I wish.” The joking words are tinged with a bitterness you don’t understand, but maybe you’re reading into it too much.
“Where are we going anyway?” You change the subject, turning to stare out your window. The scenery passes by in a blur, the only steady image remains the mountains in the far off distance. The two of you have been traveling south for a while now, but there are any number of places you could be heading to in this direction.
“Not telling,” Satoru singsongs. “You’ll see when we get there.”
“Ugh.” You catch sight of your scowling reflection in the side mirror before you turn to glare at him. “You’re so frustrating sometimes.”
He doesn’t take his eyes off of the road, but he lifts one hand from the steering wheel to pose with his chin tucked in the space between his thumb and forefinger, an annoying grin plastered to his face. “It’s part of my irresistible charm.”
You can’t help the snort that escapes you in response, shaking your head in awe of his ever-present confidence. “Whatever you say.”
He just snickers a bit and reaches over to adjust the radio.
Despite the spontaneity of the trip, it’s a perfect day for a road trip. The sun shines bright overhead, with only a few wispy clouds painted across the deep blue of the sky. You dressed for the occasion as best you could with your limited information about the destination, choosing light layers suited for the hot weather. Satoru is dressed as casually as you’ve ever seen him: light-blue board shorts with cargo pockets, a plain white t-shirt and, of course, his signature sunglasses. Though, the latter are pushed up into his hair at the moment.
Another thirty minutes or so pass before you finally piece together where you’ve been heading this whole time.
“Chigasaki,” you murmur, reading the sign for the exit as Satoru shifts lanes. “Whoa, are we going to Southern Beach?” Excitement bleeds into your tone at the thought. The beach town is well known for its surfing history and the Hamaori Festival hosted there every July. It’s too late in the season to catch any of the large festivities, but the beach area should still be a hotspot of activity.
“Someone’s excited,” Satoru chuckles. “But we’re not going to the beach. This trip is work-related.”
Anticipation escapes you like air leaving a balloon. “Oh. Right.” You should have guessed; it would be too much to ask for a moment of normalcy this summer.
The freeway exit leads onto quieter local roads. Glimpses of the ocean start peeking out between the blocks of buildings. Another sigh escapes you at the sight of the glistening water in the distance.
Finding available parking proves to be a challenge. Every street you pass is crawling with people, all dressed to enjoy the sea and the gorgeous weekend weather. Children bounce playfully on almost every corner, and you spot more than a few sunburnt tourists with cheery expressions. The glimpses of simple humanity around you put a smile on your face despite your earlier disappointment, and you catch Satoru watching you with a smile of his own.
Eventually a spot opens up in a lot that’s only a few minutes walk from the beach.
“Come on, I know the water looks tempting, but work takes priority.” He slides his glasses down from his hair to cover his eyes.
“I can’t believe you of all people are saying that to me right now.” You sigh, but grab your backpack from the car and follow after him dutifully.
“You never did explain what we’re doing here that qualifies as work,” you say after a few minutes of walking in silence. Satoru leads you down a complicated maze of turns through side streets and alleys. The roads in this part of town are too narrow for sidewalks, so you walk in the quiet streets.
“You’ve made impressive progress when it comes to controlling your cursed energy,” he says, stepping around a child’s abandoned tricycle that rolled out of a nearby driveway into the street. “But there’s a world of difference between practicing in a controlled setting and using your training in a real-world situation.”
The street leads to a busy intersection, where the two of you pause to wait for the crossing signal.
“I brought you here to exorcise your first cursed spirit,” he says finally. Just then, the walk signal appears and he begins to cross the street.
You lag behind, your brain having short-circuited in response to his casual statement. The signal starts to blink, warning that the pedestrian cycle is ending soon; you hurry across the street in a light jog to catch up to Satoru before the signal turns red.
“Sorry, did you say you brought me here to exorcise a cursed spirit?” Your words come out louder than you intend, drawing some strange looks from the people around you. You lower your voice. “I’m not training to become a real sorcerer, in case you forgot.”
“No.” Satoru stops suddenly, his eyes peek over the tops of his lenses to pin you with the natural intensity of his gaze. Either you didn’t notice earlier, or he’d done it sometime since, but his eyes now glow in the way you’ve come to learn means his Infinity is active. “I haven’t forgotten what you’re here for.”
You both realize at once that you’re stopped in the middle of the walkway, causing a small traffic blockade. He steps back to lean on a nearby building, one leg bending to prop his sneaker up against the wall. You step beside him, not leaning like he is, but sticking close to the wall.
“You told me once, in one of our very first lessons, that you want to train until you don’t have to worry about checking over your shoulder for cursed spirits at every turn,” Satoru says.
You remember that day. You’re surprised he does.
“This is how you prove to yourself that you’ve reached that point,” he insists. “Ideally, yes, you’ll never need these skills, but there are some things you can’t dodge and outrun forever.”
You narrow your eyes at him. He may be making some decent points, but, “I don’t love how you’re just springing this on me now. A heads up would’ve been appreciated.” You cross your arms over your chest.
Satoru smiles, but it isn’t his usual jovial grin, it’s something sharper around the edges. “This makes it more realistic. Cursed spirits don’t tend to call ahead and make reservations to die.”
Your stomach twists at his words. “Killing something is a bit…” You trail off, unable to name the feeling that sets you so on edge.
Maybe it’s insensitive to complain about such a thing in front of Satoru, who you know has gone through more hardship than most, but you can’t change the reality of your own feelings.
Satoru doesn’t seem offended, though. Instead, his expression softens. “Don’t think of it in the same way you would think of killing a human or an animal,” he says. “Curses aren’t quite alive in the same way we are; they’re amalgamations of cursed energy that have manifested in temporary physical forms, like ghosts of human fears and sorrows. There’s a reason we refer to it as exorcism and not execution — you’re simply dispelling a source of negative energy.”
“What about the ones that can talk? Doesn’t that imply a certain level of reasoning and free-thinking? How is that so different from us?” You worry your teeth over your bottom lip, head full of conflicting thoughts.
“Okay, we’re signing you up for philosophy talks with Shoko when we get back,” he sighs. “You don’t have to worry about that part right now. The thing we’re after is a Grade 4 cursed spirit. You could practically breathe on it too hard and it would be exorcised — no free will to be found. And, you’ll be sparing the kids in this neighborhood some nightmares to boot.”
Your eyes widen. “The cursed spirit is giving the kids here bad dreams?” The implications are fascinating in a morbid kind of way.
Satoru shrugs. “It’s more like a small cluster of cursed spirits, technically speaking, but yes. Our Windows in the area report that more than half of the children in this neighborhood started complaining of the same recurring nightmare a few weeks ago. Around the same time, the Windows also started reporting sightings of a dozen or so cursed spirits in this area.”
Uncertainty lingers; your eyes try uselessly to search Satoru’s expression behind his impenetrable lenses.
“We can leave,” he says, interrupting your silent spiral before it can really get going.
“Huh?” Your mind blanks out at his words.
“You’re not required to do any of this at the end of the day,” he says, voice low. “We can head back to the school now and leave these curses to another sorcerer. No judgement from me, promise.”
You’re surprised to find that you believe him. He will walk away from this if you say the word.
“I—” You hesitate, feeling yourself hanging on the edge of a crossroads.
Suddenly, an image of the cursed spirit in your bedroom all those weeks ago forces its way into your head. You remember with aching clarity the bone-chilling fear, the sinking dread in your gut, and the way your scream had shredded your throat, leaving it sore for days afterwards.
You imagine the children in this town, suffering from their own monsters.
“I’ll do it.”
“You’re sure?” Satoru asks. “Once we get started, we have to see it through to the end. No backing out later.”
“I’m sure.” You nod, your sense of determination only growing now that you’ve said it out loud. “I came here to not be afraid anymore, and if this is what it takes — I’ll do it.”
Satoru’s serious expression finally breaks. He claps you on the shoulder with a firm pat. “Alright then!”
He pushes off the wall and walks around the corner. You follow without him needing to ask.
This part of town is a mix of residential buildings and small businesses. Despite the increase in vehicle traffic, there are very few pedestrians this far from the water on the weekend, when most of these businesses are closed. The sidewalk at your feet has a stamped brick pattern of gray and black and red, you watch the colors shift underfoot while Satoru explains what to expect next.
“You already know that curses develop due to excess negative emotions put out by non-sorcerers. Densely populated areas, and locations that harbor a lot of collective fear or negative associations, can become hubs for curses. All of that holds true here.” Satoru pauses whenever other people pass close enough to overhear. Before, it might not have been much of an issue, but ever since the news came out about Tokyo being a source of cursed spirits, the general public can be more sensitive to talk about them.
A small group of teenagers walks past now, chattering about some new movie they want to go see, and how summer is coming to a close too quickly. You can’t help but agree with them.
“As I was saying,” Satoru continues, “this case is no different. Chigasaki is a tourist hub thanks to the beach. Fears of the ocean, of sea-creatures, of drowning, and even annoyance at sand between toes — all of it contributes to drawing plenty of low to mid-level curses. This neighborhood we’re in now adds another layer on top of that: a fear of dentists.”
“Dentists?” You almost stumble over your own feet, but manage to recover.
“Yup.” He nods. “There are multiple dental practices all within a small radius in this neighborhood. Our theory is that the collective anxiety of the residents is what drew the curses that have been giving the children nightmares.” Satoru chuckles like he can’t help himself. “All of the kiddos have reported having dreams about ‘evil tooth fairies and monster toys’.”
“No way.” Your jaw drops slightly. “Seriously?”
“Am I ever not serious?” He pouts, then adds, “don’t answer that.”
“So we, what, search the whole neighborhood until we find a couple of ‘evil tooth fairies’?” you ask.
“Pretty much. But thanks to the Windows, we have a decent idea of where to start looking.” Satoru steps off to the side of the walkway again, pulling his phone out of one of the cargo pockets on his shorts. He flips through a few screens before turning it around to show you a color-coded map.
“We’re here.” He points as he speaks. “Here, here, and here are dental offices.” The three buildings make an almost perfect triangle. “And right here,” he points to an open space colored red in the center of the triangle, “is a children’s daycare center. Now, does my favorite summer student have a guess as to where our cursed spirits are most likely to be?”
You refrain from pointing out that you are his only summer student.
“The… daycare?” It feels too obvious.
“Ding ding ding, we have a winner!” Satoru shouts, drawing the attention of a few passerbys.
He points up the street a ways, where a wire fence covered in sheer, green fabric runs up a large portion of the block. “That’s the daycare. We’re going to go investigate the playground where most of the children first reported seeing little monsters just before their nightmares began.”
“How are we going to waltz up to a daycare center in broad daylight? We’re going to get arrested for tresspassing.”
“Tsk, tsk, favorite student, you’re forgetting something,” he tuts.
You pause and think through what you know about sorcerer missions. “Oh!” You tap your right fist to the palm of your left hand when the answer comes to you. “A Curtain.”
“There you go.” Satoru nods in approval. “I’ll set up a Curtain so we aren’t disturbed. You’ll focus on searching for any residuals, and then we’ll go from there.”
You dip your head in a nod. “Sounds like a plan.”
The daycare is closed for the weekend, the gated entrance locked. It makes things inconvenient for you, but it also means the children will be out of harm's reach while you do this.
Satoru begins the chant to bring down the Curtain. You watch in awe as tangible darkness sprouts from no obvious source, spilling into the air and forming a dome around the daycare’s grounds. You push against it experimentally — there’s a sluggish heft to it, like trying to reach through quicksand. With a bit of effort, your fingers sink through to the other side, the inky veil wavering and reforming around them.
This is your first time seeing a Curtain up close. You used to see them pop up in Kyoto from time to time, before you knew what they were. You wonder how many sorcerers you passed back then without even realizing.
“That should do it,” Satoru says. He strolls through the Curtain, slipping into the darkness until he’s totally hidden from view.
So trippy.
You follow after him, trying not to shudder at the feeling of sinking into the viscous shadows. When you emerge on the other side, the sky is a few shades darker, but otherwise everything is exactly as it was outside the barrier.
The fence is all that stands before you now. It’s not incredibly tall, but you won’t be able to scale it on your own. You look around for another gate or some other point of entry. It isn’t until your second pass that you notice Satoru kneeling on the ground, his hands cupped together and an expectant look on his face.
“No way,” you say, immediately understanding what he wants to do.
“It’s the only way.”
“I’m sure there’s an open gate around here somewhere.”
He just stares at you; even with his eyes hidden you can tell he’s rolling them.
“Ugh, fine, but don’t complain if I fall on you,” you tell him.
“Yeah, yeah, come on.” He holds out his hands once more.
You shake your head lightly as you approach, glancing warily at the top of the fence before taking a firm hold of Satoru’s shoulders. You step one foot into his waiting hands; his muscles shift beneath your fingers, and then suddenly you’re in the air. You scramble to grab hold of the top of the fence in time, just managing to swing one leg over before gravity pulls you back down. From there, you’re able to climb to the ground using the gaps in the fence wire.
“Hold on,” you say once your feet are steady beneath you again. “Don’t tell me you’re making me go alone, how are you supposed to—” You cut off, jaw dropping at what you see on the other side of the fence.
With the way Satoru acts most of the time, you often forget that he’s actually a legend among sorcerers. Can all Special Grade sorcerers float? You wonder idly.
Then another thought strikes you.
“Wait a second,” you say, as his feet touch down softly on the ground. “Why did I have to risk my ankles climbing the fence when you can do that?”
He lowers his glasses just enough to wink at you, a stupid smirk on his face. “‘Cuz it was funnier this way.”
You level him with a deadpan stare for a few moments before shaking your head. “You’re so annoying.” You walk away from the fence, leaving him to catch up. His laughter echoes behind you as you go.
The gap between the two buildings that make up the daycare center opens up into a grass and dirt courtyard. A jungle gym sits off to the right, a set of swings to the left.
“Alrighty.” Satoru lightly claps his hands together. “Show me what you’ve got,” he says, staring out over the playground with a neutral expression.
You sputter. “You’re not going to help?”
“This becomes pointless if I help,” he says, like it should be obvious. “I could take care of this whole thing in my sleep. We’re here for your benefit.”
You sigh, knowing he’s right.
Stepping away from him, you walk over to the jungle gym first. The setup is a classic one: a neat area of packed dirt framed by wooden beams laid into the ground, and a variety of colorful metal and plastic structures for play. You let your eyes wander over the space, focusing on sensing any potential residuals. Satoru’s cursed energy stands out even without looking at him, but you do your best to ignore it.
You search under the slide, around the swings, by the trees — you even climb up the colorful steps to the top of the playset to get a better view of the entire courtyard. You find some abandoned toys, a dirt-covered gummy bear, and even a few tiny lost socks in the process, but there are no signs of cursed energy.
Sweating, and covered in more than a few dusty patches of dirt, you return to Satoru and shrug. “I’m getting nothing.”
Satoru nods. “Yup, there’s nothing.”
You manage to clamp down on the urge to grind your teeth, but your words come out tight anyway. “If you knew that already, why was I crawling in the dirt just now?”
Satoru taps his temple with an index finger. “If I just gave you the answers, you’d never learn to rely on your own senses.”
You drag a hand over your face, hating that he has a point. “Fair enough,” you sigh. “So, what now? Do we go look somewhere else?”
Satoru pushes away from the wall he’d been leaning against while you searched. “No, we’re not necessarily done here.”
“Oh?”
“Sometimes, curses remain hidden within an incomplete domain that can only be accessed by following a certain procedure or ritual,” he explains. “It’s possible the curses we’re looking for are of that type. It would make sense, considering children are the only ones being affected despite there being plenty of adult staff.”
You frown. “I’m confused, you’re saying the little kids here are performing rituals to summon the cursed spirits?”
“Not quite. It doesn’t necessarily have to be a conscious action on the part of the humans. It has more to do with the way the curse manifests itself, and how it establishes the rules of the haunting.”
You study him while you process what he’s saying. “You already have an idea, don’t you?”
He grins. “Uh huh. Come on, let’s play!” He takes off running for the jungle gym, using his long legs to skip up the colorful steps in no time at all. You watch, stunned, as he leaps off the top edge of the structure to grab onto the monkey bars.
You’re just about to demand an explanation, but then realization sinks in.
Oh, you think, I get it.
You set your backpack down on a nearby bench before jogging after Satoru. Climbing up onto the playset feels a bit ridiculous with how oversized you are for the structures meant for children, but you can’t deny that it’s a little fun too. Rather than the monkey bars, you have your sights set on the biggest of the slides.
It’s a blue, twisting thing, held together with large bolts painted to look like flowers on the outside. You grab onto the metal bar above the entrance with both hands and swing your legs into the slide, careful not to hit your head when launching yourself down it.
The darkness inside is disorienting after standing in the bright afternoon sun. Laughter echoes behind you as you pick up speed around the corners, interrupted by a small yelp when the friction of your clothes against the plastic zaps you as you pass over one of the metal bolts.
The whole experience is over in a handful of seconds, then you’re dumped out at the bottom, hitting the dirt below with a solid thud. Air rushes out of you with the force of the landing, but you’re laughing the second the feeling clears. There’s a simple kind of nostalgia to playing like this that lifts your spirits.
“Nice one,” Satoru cheers, suddenly appearing above you. He reaches out a hand and hauls you to your feet.
“Thanks,” you say, your laughter still hanging on your breath. “Think that was enough to do the trick?”
He nods his head towards the shadowed area underneath the rock climbing wall a dozen or so feet away. A gasp catches in your throat when you spot what he’s pointing to.
An ominous shimmer of cursed energy peeks out from the shadows. Two mismatched eyes hover about a foot off the ground, laser-focused on the two of you.
“I’d say we’re starting to get their attention.” He pulls on your hand, which he never released earlier. “Just a little more, I think.”
He leads you to the swing set on the other end of the playground. Your path takes you past the rock wall, where cursed energy continues to gather. It buzzes in the air, crawling over your skin like a sickly living thing. You shiver despite the heat.
“Hey!” Satoru’s voice pulls you out of your head. You raise an eyebrow, looking down at where he now sits on one of the swings. “Come on, push me!” You shake your head lightly, laughing under your breath at the gleeful expression on his face.
Standing behind him, you grab onto the plastic-covered metal chains. Satoru Gojo is not a small man; it takes some real effort to pull him back enough to get the swing going, especially when you have to fight to not lose traction on the firmly packed dirt, but you eventually do it. You release your hold on the chains and he swings forward. Despite sitting on the tallest swing available, he has to fold his legs under him to keep from dragging his feet in the dirt.
A few seconds later he returns, and you shove at his back to keep the momentum going. This repeats a few times until he is well and truly swinging, eventually reaching soaring heights that would thrill (or terrify) a child.
Satoru’s clear laughter rings through the air, joyful and sweet. It brings a smile to your face, the darker purpose of your mission overwritten by the sound — for this moment, at least.
“Alright, your turn.” Satoru says a few minutes later, dragging his feet to come to a halt.
You wave away his offer. “I’m good.”
“Oh come on,” he drawls, “how often do people our age get the chance to swing?”
You bite back a smile and hold up both hands placatingly. “Okay okay, twist my arm.”
The plastic seat is warm from the sun when you take his place on the swing. You grab firmly onto the chains and wait.
“Ready?” Satoru’s voice is at your ear. You try not to squirm when his hands appear on either side of you, brushing ever so slightly against your waist when he reaches for the chains.
Before you know it, you’re pulled back several feet off the ground. But rather than simply letting gravity do the work, he keeps holding and runs forward with you, lifting and lifting, until he finally releases you high into the air and runs beneath the swing.
For a moment there’s nothing ahead but the wide, open sky. Then gravity takes the lead and you’re falling back to earth. Air rushes by, roaring in your ears and ruffling your hair, then there are warm hands on your back, pushing you forward once more. You’re more prepared this time. You kick your legs in sync with the arc of the swing, gaining momentum with each pass until you’re flying just as high as Satoru did.
There’s an unexpected freedom to this, much like launching yourself down the slide earlier. Light, bubbling happiness fills your chest, and the mission is suddenly the furthest thing from your mind. Old memories strike you in a cascade: sunny grade school days, the buzzing of cicadas in the air, the shrieks of laughter from you and your classmates. Those early days that once felt so endless, when the world was a great big thing that you didn’t need to understand. The forceful hit of nostalgia leaves your head spinning; you don’t see the playground in front of you anymore.
“Y/N.”
The sound of your name rings out from somewhere far away, but you’re too lost in your memories to care about that now. You want to float in this feeling forever.
“Y/N.”
There’s that noise again; it sounds urgent this time. Something about that voice dampens the joy flooding through you. Why does it sound so familiar?
“—the curse ——, come on.”
Curse? What does that—
Oh. Right.
Just like that, the illusion breaks, slamming you back into the present. You’re still sitting on the swing, but you’re not moving. Satoru kneels in front of you, fingers raised in a snapping motion. His glasses are pushed up into his hair, and his eyes search your face with intense focus.
“There you are. Finally.” His tone is lightly admonishing, but you note some genuine relief there too.
You rub gently at your head and the uncomfortable pressure that remains built-up there. “What was that?”
“It seems we underestimated these guys,” he says. “Alone, they’re super weak — hardly anything to speak of — but it seems when they group together they pack more of a punch. You just experienced the effect of their domain.” He looks back at the space under the rock wall and you follow his gaze.
Where before there had been a small echo of cursed energy and one small set of eyes, there now sits a wriggling mass of fully manifested cursed spirits. They range in shape and size, some looking like children’s toys — stuffed bears and building blocks — others are vaguely tooth-shaped with bloody roots dragging behind them. The rest are less recognizable, blobby and disfigured and all in different disturbing shades of rotten flesh. Dozens of mismatched eyes blink at you in unison.
You shudder, your arms wrapping around yourself instinctively. “Ew.”
“If you were one of my usual students, I would tell you to go for it despite this unexpected development. But, since our goal here is to teach you exorcism, not combat, I’ll thin the crowd a little first.”
Relief floods through you. “That’s generous of you. I half-expected you to slap me on the back and say ‘go get ‘em champ’.”
“Hah!” Satoru laughs. “What can I say, I’m a generous kind of guy.”
You snort lightly at that bold statement, but he’s already walking towards the cluster of cursed spirits. The lingering effects of the domain leave you feeling disoriented, so you remain seated, but you watch Satoru’s movements carefully. Even if it’s only against Grade 4 curses, this is still a chance to finally see him in action.
The cluster of cursed spirits retreats further into the shadows as he approaches. You remember from your lessons that strong cursed energy can act as a deterrent for weaker curses; it’s the same reason why powerful cursed objects are sometimes used as protective wards. These spirits must recognize Satoru as the apex predator here. He isn’t phased by the reaction, though. He confidently walks up to the shadows and plunges his hand into the pile of them. He rips one out from the group, dangling the tooth-like spirit by its bloody roots.
A flicker of cursed energy, so abrupt you would’ve missed it by blinking, travels through Satoru’s hand. The cursed spirit twists and crumples in on itself with so much force that it implodes; there’s a burst of black blood and other goo, then there’s nothing. The curse and its remains fade from existence entirely.
The other curses recoil from him fully now, falling back towards the opposite side of the playset. Satoru doesn’t pursue them into the shadows, he simply points a single finger in their direction. A flash of blue energy in the form of a small orb drags away the majority of the curses from the main cluster. One by one, as the curses make contact with Satoru’s Technique, they meet the same fate as the first — twisting and compressing into nothing at all, until only three remain.
The entire thing is over in a couple of seconds. You stare at Satoru, mouth open.
He turns to you, expression bright. “Alrighty, your turn.”
A wave of vertigo washes over you when you stand, but your legs hold steady. The remaining cursed spirits attempt to flee to the edges of the playground, but a tiny flicker of blue energy in the center of the courtyard drags them back every time they stray too far. Satoru’s doing, you assume.
Okay, I just have to exorcise these things. No problem, you think to yourself. The clamminess of your palms might say otherwise, but you breathe deep to steady yourself.
In theory, exorcising curses is simple: use a technique, or cursed tool, to apply cursed energy of great enough strength to damage a curse beyond their ability to heal. Or, for people like you without a technique or cursed tool available, use an attack of pure cursed energy. Satoru once described the latter process as being like ‘discharging static after shuffling around in socks on a winter day.’ Instead of channeling your cursed energy around your own body or into a cursed tool like The Wailer, you channel it into the air itself.
Simple. In theory.
The cursed spirit nearest to you has the form of a stuffed toy rabbit, its “stuffing” spilling out through a slice in one of its short limbs. You approach it slowly, but it’s too focused on trying to escape Satoru to pay much attention to you.
Taking another deep breath to center yourself, you draw on your cursed energy the way you’ve practiced, focusing on channeling it through your body and into your hand. Then, you flick your hand out towards the curse in a slicing motion, concentrating on using the air as a medium. A small wave of your energy arcs out from your fingertips, successfully damaging the curse.
Sort of, at least. Your aim could use some work.
The strike damages one of the curse's limbs, splattering that same black substance you saw earlier, but the majority of the blow is absorbed harmlessly by the ground. Still, you hit it.
“That was good,” Satoru says from somewhere behind you. “Keep going.”
You nod, more to yourself than him. You repeat the same process, this time with a better idea of how to control the output. Cursed energy ripples through your arm, down your fingertips, into the air.
It’s a direct hit.
The cursed spirit shudders with horrible, twitching movements. A line of black appears first across the length of its body; a split-second later it explodes along that line, showering the ground in a spray of that strange blood-like substance before disappearing completely.
You release the shaky breath you’ve been holding this whole time.
“I did it,” you say, voice low. You don’t really mean to say it out loud, but with the evidence of your success erased from existence, you feel the need for some kind of tangible confirmation.
Feelings swirl through you in a jumble — shock, satisfaction, nausea, relief. It’s a dizzying thing.
A hand on your shoulder makes you flinch. You turn to find Satoru there beside you.
“You did it,” he echoes. Then he does that thing where he sees too much of you, his eyebrows lowering. “You okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine.” You pull away from his grasp. “One down, two to go.”
“Right,” he says from behind you.
Exorcising the next two cursed spirits is only more difficult because they’ve started running away from you now too. It makes aiming your new attack a challenge, but you manage it eventually. Each wave of cursed energy released from your body improves your technique for the next, but you feel the strain it’s putting on you. By the time the last curse fades, you’re breathing heavily.
“Impressive,” Satoru says a while later, while you sit on the courtyard bench catching your breath.
You raise an eyebrow. “You called them ‘super weak’ and exorcised triple the amount I did with a flick of your finger, but me huffing and puffing to exorcise three of them is impressive?”
He flops back against the fence that runs behind the bench, tucking one hand into his pocket and lolling his head to the side. “Can you just take the compliment?” He reaches over with his free hand and lightly flicks the side of your head. “A month ago you had basically zero control over your cursed energy, and today you exorcised three cursed spirits. You might be feeling wiped right now, but, with time, you have the potential to become a strong sorcerer.”
“Is that a job offer?” you tease. There’s no future in which you actually decide to become a sorcerer, but you’re curious about what he has to say regardless.
“Sure.” He faces the playground while he speaks, a faint smile on his face. “You’d need more training, of course, but there’s a spot for you here if you ever want it.” You thought he’d have some kind of smart remark to make, but there’s a sincerity to his words instead.
You clear your throat lightly against the odd feeling fluttering in your chest. “That’s kind of you to say, but—”
“Your administrative work is calling your name?” he interrupts.
“Hey, I’ll have you know that the world would be a mess without administrative workers,” you say, holding your head high. “You can save the world with cursed energy, and I’ll save it with systems management.”
“Hah! Deal.” He pushes away from the wall and starts walking towards the entrance. “Come on, Ms. Systems Management, we should get moving.”
“Where are you going?” Satoru asks a while later. The two of you are back on the narrow neighborhood streets, a few blocks from where you started the day.
“Isn’t the car this way?” You point down the corner street you just turned onto.
“It is,” he says. “Buuuut, the beach is this way.” He nods down the main street he stands on.
“The beach?” you ask. “But I thought—”
He grins. “You didn’t think I picked a mission right by one of the most popular beaches around just to go straight back to the school, did you?”
“I… Yeah, I guess I did,” you admit.
“We could have found a Grade 4 for you to exorcise just about anywhere, but I snagged this mission on purpose.” He tilts his head, smile fading. “If you’re up for it? We can always head back if you don’t like the beach.”
“No!” you respond, a little too loudly. You clear your throat. “I do want to go. It would be nice to do one normal thing before summer ends.”
It’s an annual tradition of yours to go to a beach on Lake Biwa with your friends from college at least once a summer, but your time in Tokyo made that impossible this year. This won’t be the same, but it’s something.
Satoru’s grin returns in full force. “Right. This way it is, then.”
The prospect of seeing the ocean gives you a new burst of energy as you walk along. It’s only a couple of minutes before you reach the arched sign marking the entrance of “Chigasaki Southern Beach.” Living up to its reputation, the beachfront is gorgeous. Smooth sand stretches far in each direction, and picture-perfect waves crash gently along the shore in bursts of foam and seaspray. And it’s busy. Everywhere you look there are rows of umbrellas and beach tents, and children darting around the shore.
“I take it you’ve never been here before?” Satoru asks when he returns from the rental stand with an umbrella and two oversized towels in hand.
You shake your head. “No, we didn’t really vacation as a family growing up, and I’ve only ever been to the beaches North of Kyoto since moving.” You turn the question back at him. “What about you?”
He turns his head towards the water. “Not since my student days.” The pause that follows is heavy, like he intends to say more but doesn’t. This angle reveals the outline of his eyes and long lashes through the side of his sunglasses, but there’s nothing that gives away his thoughts. Just when the moment starts to stretch on too long, he turns back to you, voice lighter. “My skills as a sorcerer are in high-demand, as you can imagine. Doesn’t leave a ton of time for beaches these days.”
That long pause gives you the sense that there’s more to it than that, but you don’t press him on it. “Well, let’s make the most of today in that case!”
It doesn’t take long to pick out a free spot on the sand. You set up the umbrella while Satoru lays out the towels, weighing them down with your shoes and his. When things are settled you stand back and inspect your work.
That is, until movement in the corner of your eye catches your attention instead.
You look over to find that the movement in question is Satoru reaching for his shirt. He peels it off in one smooth motion, his eyes already on the ocean. You don’t mean for your look to linger, but your eyes snag on something unexpected: a jagged scar that wraps almost entirely around his torso.
“Well," he says, tossing his shirt onto one of the towels. “I’m off to the water!”
You nod distractedly, acknowledging his cheerful declaration. Sorcerers with scars are nothing new to you at this point, but for Satoru of all people to have such a large one…
You might have asked about it, but he’s already gone. You’re left with a view of his retreating back, as he dashes off towards the water with the energy of a little kid.
You briefly wonder if you'll ever get to hear the story behind it. Maybe it's for the best you don't.
Setting aside thoughts of sorcerers and their scars, you return your focus to the sunny day, briefly mourning the fact that you didn’t know about this plan earlier so you could bring a swimsuit. Then again, it’s not like you could have brought one even if you’d known — swimming wasn’t exactly on the list of activities for Jujutsu Summer Camp after all. Regardless, the scenery is beautiful, and you’re content to sit under the beach umbrella and take it all in. To your right sit mountain ranges in the distance, with Mt. Fuji acting as the crown jewel above all the rest. To the left sits Enoshima Island, a fuzzy splotch of deep green on the horizon. Straight ahead lies the open ocean, the endless water meeting the cloudless sky, creating the illusion of blue stretching out for infinity.
The humid air carries the tang of salt and sea; it drifts across your skin, tempering the blazing heat of the afternoon. Your eyes close against the glare of the sun. Your breathing evens out to match the rhythm of the waves. The sounds of the water brushing against the shore, and the calls of seabirds overhead fill your ears. Time passes with all of these sensations washing over you like a soothing balm, easing away the tension from your earlier ordeal.
At some point, you drift off to that hazy state between dreaming and waking. Your mind sits empty of any thoughts, only processing snippets of conversations and children’s squeals of laughter that catch on the air in pieces. It’s a feeling of utter ease.
Then you catch the sound of a familiar laugh, floating above the rest and joined by the high-pitched giggles of children.
“Take that,” Satoru yells. There’s the sound of a huge splash followed by shrieking laughter.
“Run!” a small voice calls out. “The monster is too strong!” Little splashes follow the cry — the sounds of retreat.
“You think you can get away that easily?” Satoru’s voice is deep with exaggerated growly tones.
“He’s attacking again!” one child screams. “Reload!” yells another.
What the?
That thought drags you out of your peaceful rest. It takes a few moments for your eyes to readjust to the searing reflection of the sun on the water, but once they do you’re met with a puzzling sight.
A young child clings to Satoru’s back like a koala, while three others stand a short distance away with giant waterguns all aimed in his direction.
While you watch, a young girl calls out “fire!” and Satoru is immediately pelted by streams of water that move with surprising velocity. The children continue to shoot at and chase down Satoru while he chases them around in turn. The child on his back is eventually launched into the waves, screaming with laughter the whole way down and immediately charging at him again upon popping back up to the surface.
You don’t even realize you’re smiling at the ridiculous scene playing out before you until you start to feel the ache in your cheeks. It somehow makes perfect sense that Satoru would entertain himself and a crowd of children all in one go.
The fierce battle against the “monster” continues on the edges of the shore. Despite the chaos, they make the sparkling water look inviting. You look down at your clothes, considering. It should be fine to walk along the water’s edge a bit. The waves aren’t too tall at the moment, and it would be a shame to miss out on the water entirely on such a beautiful day.
Decision made, you tuck your backpack up against the umbrella pole and head out to where the ocean meets the shore. A wave rushes to greet you, tickling over your feet until you’re standing in the water up to your calves. The warm water feels pleasantly cool compared to the oppressive heat in the air; you release a contented sigh.
Your feet carry you along the water’s edge, the ebb and flow displacing the sand under every step you take. Wind whips against your clothing. You let yourself float on the sensations of sunlight and seabreeze and the water’s current. A different kind of peace from before settles over you.
Not wanting to wander too far from your belongings, you turn around after a while and continue your meandering stroll back towards where you started. You keep your eyes on the sand, watching the water swish around your ankles as you go.
Unfortunately, this means you don’t notice right away that you’ve wandered into a battleground.
“Hah! Let’s see how you handle this!” It’s Satoru’s voice again, but before you get the chance to see what he’s up to with the children now, you are struck by a stream of water.
The salty spray splashes across your face first, then down your torso in a clean line that has your shirt clinging to you instantly. Shock keeps your feet planted where you stand, your mouth hanging open and hands lifted uselessly, too late to save you. Your eyes, which you’d closed instinctively, flicker open now to take in the scene. Five perfectly shocked faces stare back at you with expressions that range from confusion to guilt to mischievous amusement. One face, standing much taller than the rest, meets your stare with a wincing grin.
“Oops?” Satoru tries. The watergun at fault dangles at his side.
You almost let it go. The typical sigh you reserve for Satoru and his antics sits waiting on your lips. You can see it now: the shake of your head as you resign yourself to return to shore so you can dry off. Honestly, it’s not that bad; you’ll definitely dry off in time for the long ride home.
You almost do that.
But there’s something about the faces of the children, who seem to be waiting for a scolding. Something about this beautiful place that feels a world away from your usual one. Something about those curses that made you relive some of your own childhood memories in vivid detail just hours ago.
Your lips curl into a wicked smile. You meet Satoru’s eyes through his glasses and try to telegraph your plans. By the curl of his own lips, you can tell he understands immediately.
“Change of plan, kiddos.” His voice rings with false urgency. “There’s a new monster in town,” his voice drops to a mock-whisper, “and she’s really scary.”
You bend to scoop as much water into your hands as you can.
“Here she comes!” he shouts. “Run!”
The children, realizing that the game is back on, take off in a scatter.
The wave of water you pull up with your hands gets directed at the two children nearest to you. Peals of giggles ring through the air.
And just like that, you join the game. Satoru and the children put up their best defense and you chase after them, having taken over the mantle of the monster. Between the spray from the waterguns, the waves crashing around your legs, and the ricochet from your own attack, you’re absolutely drenched in minutes. It’s silly, and messy, and so fun that your cheeks burn from the force of your smile.
As the battle rages to its peak, one of the kids sneaks up behind you. The young boy hits you point blank with a shot from his water toy, and when you spin around, distracted, you don’t notice Satoru sneaking in close. Just as you raise your arms to menacingly run after the boy, Satoru’s arms snake around your waist and yank your feet off the sand.
“Hey!” you cry out, your laughter burning through your lungs. “Unhand me!” You slap at his hands with no real force, both of you playing up the act for the kids.
“Quick, now’s your chance!” Satoru yells.
Instantly, water pelts you as the children fire stream after stream. You kick your legs with exaggerated force, but it’s no use. Satoru’s hold is iron tight.
After putting up an appropriate amount of fight, you finally raise your hands out in front of you. “Alright, alright. I surrender!”
The attacks cease within seconds. Four little faces stare at you in awe. Satoru allows your feet to touch the ground again, but he doesn’t release you from his grasp just yet.
“What do we think, kids?” he asks. “Do we accept the monster’s surrender?”
The children’s eyes go wide for a moment before one of them draws the others into a small huddle. Their matching serious expressions as they discuss the merits of your surrender make you laugh.
"They're such menaces," you whisper to Satoru over your shoulder. "No wonder you get along so well."
You feel his hushed laughter in the shake of his shoulders from where he holds you against him. "They might be menaces," he whispers back, "but they have some solid battle instincts.
You're about to say something back about how of course that's what he notices, but just then the small huddle breaks and one of the young girls steps forward.
“We don’t accept the surrender!” she shouts, raising her watergun high into the air. The other children cheer.
“Understood!” Satoru says. Before you have time to react, the world turns upside down.
There’s a dizzying moment where sky and sea swap positions. You struggle to make sense of what happened, but then you feel something digging into your waist and you realize that Satoru has picked you up and thrown you over his shoulder. He’s currently walking you out deeper into the water.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa, I didn’t sign up for this.” You have a sinking feeling you know exactly where this is headed.
Behind you, the children jump and cheer from where they wait along the shore.
“Come on, Satoru. The water fight was bad enough, but if you do this I’ll never dry off in time,” you plead, lightly pounding your fists against his back in protest.
“Sorry, but the council has spoken,” he says, not an ounce of apology in his voice.
Apparently this is far enough, because he suddenly halts. The water below you spins with nauseating speed as he turns to make sure the children are still watching.
“Y/N,” Satoru says, voice low and serious, “for your crimes as the water monster, you are hereby sentenced to…” He pauses for dramatic effect. “Drowning at sea!”
He starts to spin in place. After a few rotations, his hold shifts and suddenly you’re flying. Your screams of laughter are lost to the wind as you soar through the air. Then there’s nothing but the roar of the ocean around you as you crash into the depths.
For a disorienting moment up is down and right is left while the waves toss you around, but you’re able to orient yourself before too long. You come up to the surface with a gasp, wiping salty seawater from your eyes. This area is still shallow enough that you can touch the sand below with ease, but the waves that bob around you every few seconds bring water up to your shoulders, catching and dragging against your clothes. The layers are not streamlined for swimming, which leaves them weighing heavily against you.
Satoru stands a few feet away, grinning ear to ear and cackling at your expense. When he realizes you’re glaring at him, however, his expression falls the tiniest bit. He pushes his sunglasses up into his hair, his eyes scanning over your face. He’s taking a step towards you, arms outstretched placatingly, when your faux-anger breaks. You start laughing, shoulders shaking with the force of it. He visibly deflates with relief at the sight.
On the walk back towards the shore, you trail a few steps behind him. The children call out to him with wild celebrations of joy and amusement as the two of you draw nearer. Meanwhile, you’re forming a plan.
The timing needs to be strategic: shallow enough water to have leverage, but not too shallow; close enough to the children to be distracted, but not so close that they could get caught up in it. Eventually, your opening arrives and you strike. Weeks of training kick in as you dig your feet into the sand for additional leverage and take advantage of his momentary lack of guard. You grab Satoru’s arm and use one leg to kick his feet out from under him. The timing of the waves is just right and he wobbles before finally losing his balance. The last thing you see before he’s swept under is a wide look of shock in eyes so blue they match the waves.
The children’s eyes dart between you and Satoru under the water, comically wide with shock of their own.
When Satoru’s head pops back up his white hair clings to his face, giving him the distinct look of a drowned cat. His eyes shoot to you, accusation and betrayal burning within them.
“What the hel—” He cuts himself off with a quick glance at the children. “The heck was that for?” he demands.
Laughter roars out of you at the look on his face. You double over with the force of it, tears springing to your eyes and mingling with the water still dripping out of your own hair.
“Well, since we were punishing sea monsters, I figured the original should get some too,” you explain when you can breathe again.
The children cheer in agreement when they hear your words, pointing and laughing at where Satoru still sits in the water. You’re not sure who starts it, but soon they are splashing him with their hands, the waterguns having been abandoned at the shore. You enjoy the show from a few feet away, egging the kids on.
Before things can escalate to another round of monster-slaying, an adult’s voice calls out from the distance. The kids all turn in recognition, waving back at them.
“We have to go home now,” one of them explains.
“Thanks for playing with us!” another says. The others chime in their agreement.
“Bye,” they call in unison, waving their arms in wide arcs as they run off towards the sandy shore.
You and Satoru wave back, calling out your own goodbyes.
After watching their departure for a quiet moment, you look down at Satoru. “Wanna call it even?” you ask, trying not to laugh at the look on his face now that the children are gone.
Satoru stares at the outstretched hand you offer. A plotting look flashes in his eyes, but it’s gone just as quickly as it appeared; a boyish smile brightens his face instead. “Even,” he agrees, wrapping one hand around yours. He hardly puts any weight on you as he stands, but he holds on for balance anyway.
He bounces to his feet, shaking the excess water from his hair, which leaves the white strands sticking out in every direction. “C’mon.” He gently tugs on your hand before releasing it. “Let’s go dry off.”
Back on the shore, the two of you sit side-by-side, wrapped in towels and staring out over the water. More time passed while playing with the kids than you expected. The sun inches further behind the mountains in the distance with every minute that goes by, casting the entire beach in gorgeous hues of peach and gold.
“We should be getting back soon.” You sigh, already not looking forward to the drive.
“Yeah.” Satoru agrees.
Neither of you move.
“Today was fun.” You say a couple of moments later.
“Yeah.”
A few minutes pass, and then, “Did you really choose this mission just so we could play on the beach afterwards?”
He turns to you finally, a broad smile forming on his face. “I told you, keeping morale high is key for effective training.”
A breath of laughter falls from your lips. “Right. Well, thank you. This was…” You trail off, thinking of the ridiculous series of events that took place this year and led to this moment. Despite how today started, you think these few hours on the beach are the longest you’ve gone without thinking about curses since you started seeing them in the first place.
“Good,” you say, finally.
“Good, huh?” His gaze returns to the water. “I’ll take good.”
“Yeah, today was good.” You release a dramatic sigh, shoulders hunching over. “Maybe even great. But I can’t say the same about the ride home in these clothes.” You glare at him, but there’s no heat behind it. “Thanks for that, by the way.”
He tilts his head back at you with an equal amount of drama, one eyebrow raised as if to say, “you had fun, though, didn’t you?”
Then, without warning, he stands in one smooth movement, dropping his towel to the sand. He slips his shirt back on and starts walking up the beach towards the exit.
“Wait there!” he calls back before you can scramble after him.
Your eyebrows scrunch up as you watch his retreating form, but eventually you shrug and leave him to his plans.
While you wait, you decide to dig your phone out of your bag and check on your backlog of messages. There are a few from your coworker, Kimiko, that draw your attention in particular. She’s your closest friend in your department, and there’s a string of messages in your work chat where she laments over your absence, saying things have been “horrifically boring” without you around. You tap out a few quick replies, telling her to hang in there and that you’ll be back in no time.
You’re not sure how many minutes have passed when a plastic bag lands in the sand at your feet. Your head shoots up to find Satoru standing above you. His shoes and sunglasses are back on, and he’s already moving to start taking down the rented beach umbrella when he speaks.
“Those are for you. Go get changed while I return this stuff.”
You gape at the bag beside you, mouth opening and closing uselessly for a few seconds before you pick it up without a word and peek inside.
“Oh.” The word falls out of your mouth without you meaning it to. You stare at Satoru’s back while he closes up the umbrella with neat, precise movements. He always finds a way to surprise you, doesn’t he?
You gather up the shopping bag and your backpack and make your way to the lone permanent structure on the beach, where the bathrooms and changing rooms are.
When you said that Satoru always finds a way to surprise you, this isn’t what you had in mind.
“He’s so annoying,” you mutter under your breath, pulling on your brand new shirt, courtesy of the annoying man in question.
It’s a normal-enough t-shirt, but the graphic on the front is anything but. The word “CHIGASAKI” is in huge letters across the top; just below that is a cartoony image of a tiger standing on a large rock with a backdrop of splashing waves, and the tiger stares at the image of a sunset over Mt. Fuji in the distance. You can almost forgive that much, but then there’s the two colorful rainbow shells linked together with a rope below the tiger, framed by the cheery message of, “I’m at the beach! Call me on my shell phone.”
It’s the most egregious piece of graphic design you’ve ever witnessed, which is saying a lot in a tourist town. And it’s now one of only two pieces of dry clothing you have to your name. The other is a black wrap-around skirt that would actually be quite pretty if it was paired with literally anything else.
You shove your wet clothes into the plastic shopping bag while you grumble about Satoru and his sense of humor. At least you won’t have to ride for over an hour while chaffing in wet things — is what you tell yourself to calm down.
Satoru is leaning against the wall outside of the building’s entrance when you exit a few minutes later.
“Not a word,” you warn when you see his eyes light up upon seeing your new outfit.
“I don’t know what you mean,” he says, barely keeping a straight face. “I was only going to ask if you feel better now that you’re dry.”
You cross your arms, covering the tiger and Mt. Fuji in the process. “Uh huh,” you say, voice dry and eyes narrowed.
His mouth wobbles once before he abruptly turns away.
You roll your eyes at his terrible attempt to hide his laughter, the shaking of his shoulders giving him away. “Let’s go,” you say, not looking to see if he follows.
The two of you are on the road not long after, with Satoru behind the wheel once more. Music plays low on the radio, but there’s nothing but comfortable silence otherwise. The sun is well and truly setting now, the last golden rays barely visible above the mountain peaks. The moon and the brightest of the stars are starting to peer out of the twilight on the other end of the sky. The passenger window is cool beneath your head as you lean against it, your eyelids drooping low.
When Satoru first showed up at your door this morning, you didn’t expect to end up on a day trip to exorcise curses. And you certainly didn’t expect everything that followed. Your mind and body are thoroughly exhausted. The memories of today and the memories of the past that got dredged up by that domain mingle in your head; your body feels hollowed out between your depleted cursed energy and the lingering sensation of phantom ocean waves. You try to fight the heavy fatigue so you can keep Satoru company for the drive ahead, but you lose the battle. The humming of the engine and the quiet song on the radio lull you to sleep before the sun has fully set.