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He is ten years old the first time he sees something that nobody else can. It is standing on the other side of the street, slightly obscured by a couple of nearby trees. It’s a creepy thing, vaguely human shaped. Tall and impossibly dark. It doesn’t move, it doesn’t do anything. He wonders if it actually exists, but he’s determined to not look at it too much, after all, his parents always say that it’s not polite to stare.
The thing makes him uneasy. He can’t decide if he would rather it would move or stay there forever. He decides that if the ball he and his friends are playing with goes near that thing he will not go look for it.
Somehow, the ball does end up near the thing. He kicked it too hard, and his friends insist that he must go and get it.
He doesn’t want to. He can’t. That thing is there. His friends ask him why he’s being so weird.
He tries to explain, “There’s something there.” He points to the shadow. They turn their heads.
“There’s nothing there,” they say. “Stop being such a baby and go,” they insist.
“I can’t. I won’t,” he says, a little bit more desperate.
"I'll go then," his friend, Hiro, says. He gives Nanami a reassuring smile.
He wants to tell Hiro no, don’t go, but he doesn't. He doesn't want them to think he's being even more weird than the situation warrants. After all, in the end, nothing happens.
"You see, Ken-chan? Everything's fine." Hiro pats him on the back, "c'mon, let's finish the game."
But Nanami doesn't feel like playing anymore. He tells them as much. They whine and plead and call him names, but he leaves anyway.
He goes home instead. He’s scared. He doesn’t understand what that was and why only he could see it.
That evening at dinner, he’s still thinking about the thing. He wants to excuse himself. He’s not hungry. His parents ask him what’s wrong, confusion and concern on his mother’s face. He doesn’t tell them. He doesn’t think they’ll believe him.
He vows to never go near that road again.
After that incident, it’s as if a dam has been broken. He sees them everywhere. Little things. Dark things. Goofy looking things. Gross looking things. They make him uneasy, but they stay away from him thankfully. If he’s near, they scurry away. He doesn’t know what they are nor does he want to. He tries hard to ignore them, but sometimes they are on people. One of the teachers at his school has one on top of his head. He briefly wonders why, but he doesn’t want to know. It’s better not knowing.
*
He is twenty five years old and the girl at the bakery has a curse on her shoulder. The girl is new, the curse is not.
He can tell, even though it’s small.
The thoughts come, unbidden. He wonders where she acquired the curse. Was it at work? Home? School? How old is this girl anyway?
He stops himself. This isn’t his problem anymore. The curse is small. That isn’t his life anymore. He still wonders and he wonders if she’ll be okay. He hopes she will.
He stops, again. It’s not his problem. That’s no longer his job. She’ll be fine. He hopes.
-
He goes to the bakery once a week now. He tells himself it’s because the bread they sell here is better than the one from the convenience store. He tells the girl as much when one day she comments on his choice of bread. She looks a bit disappointed. He feels a bit like an ass, but it can’t be helped. It’s the truth and he’s not one to offer empty compliments.
He pays for the bread. She gives him his change.
“Thank you for your patronage.” She smiles. “Have a nice day.”
“You too.”
-
He visits the bakery twice a week. It’s the bread. The bread is great.
Girl and curse greet him the same as always. Sometimes she’s there, sometimes she’s not. They chat a bit whenever they meet. She smiles, he doesn’t.
Everything stays the same, until it doesn’t.
She’ll be fine, he thinks.
Are you sure about that?, a voice counters.
*
He is twelve years old when he learns the truth.
He has seen the thing again and this time it isn’t alone. There’s another one next to it, taller, more defined. Less like a shadow, more like a person. He realizes then that it is a person and they’re doing something with their hands. Suddenly, the shadow disappears. They did something to it and he wants to know what. He runs across the street and stands before the person. It’s a man. He has a shaved head and goatee. He’s dressed in all black.
“You did something to it,” he blurts out with no preamble, “what did you do?”
The man looks at him, considering his answer.
“You could see it, couldn’t you?” he answers his question with another question.
He’s annoyed that the man doesn’t answer his question, but decides to answer anyway.
“Yes,” he simply says, maybe a bit more curtly than he normally would to an adult, let alone a stranger.
“Did you ever go near it?” the man asks, unbothered.
“I didn’t,” he says.
The man tilts his head slightly, pondering his next question, it seems.
“Why?” he asks, puzzled.
He chews on his lip, hesitating. Was it weird that he never went near the thing? Wouldn’t he be expected not to? He doesn't understand.
“I’d never seen something like it before.” He hesitates to continue. “None of my friends could see it either. It was creepy. It-It scared me.”
The corners of the man’s mouth turned slightly upward.
“Smart kid. You did right, not going near that thing,” he says. “My name’s Yaga. What’s your name, kid?”
“Nanami, sir,” he says, giving a small bow.
“Nice to meet you, Nanami. Come, I’ll tell you what that thing was.”
Yaga motioned him to a nearby bench. They sat in silence for a couple of minutes, watching the children play in the park across the street.
“That thing, Nanami, was a curse. A spirit that comes into existence from negative emotions.”
“Are they dangerous?” he asks, faltering.
“They can be. Weak ones can cause mild to moderate discomfort,” he explains. “Strong ones can cause a lot of harm, sometimes they kill.”
Nanami turns his head sharply, shock and fear written all over his face. He clenches his fists on top of his knees. A feeling of dread settled in the pit of his stomach.
“Do you have to touch them to cause harm?”
Yaga looks him in the eye, a serious expression on his face.
“Not always,” he says. “Sometimes, if the curse is strong enough, just being near it can cause some effect. Why do you ask?”
Nanami thinks back to the day where he first saw a curse and recounts the incident to Yaga, how he and his friends were playing in the park and how one of them went to search for the ball that had ended up on the other side of the street. He tells Yaga that a few months after the incident his friend Hiro got sick. His parents said he was growing weaker by the day, so they pulled him out of the school. Nobody could find out what was wrong with him, and the boy kept deteriorating.
“Do you think the curse did something to him?” he asks, worriedly.
“It is possible,” Yaga explains, pondering his answer, “would you like me to investigate your friend’s disease?”
“But you’re not a doctor, aren’t you?” Nanami asks, confused.
Yaga gives him a slightly amused look. “If your friend has, indeed, been cursed, a doctor wouldn’t be able to help him at all.”
“But you would?” he asks, sceptical.
“Depending on the strength of the curse and the hold it could have on your friend’s body, I might,” he says, “this is all a big ‘if’ though, kid. Our powers can’t do everything.”
“I guess it’s better than nothing.” Nanami sighs, “so, would you help him?”
“I will if I can,” he promises.
-
Two weeks after the first meeting, he sees Yaga-san again.
The man informs him that his friend had indeed been cursed, but that he was able to dispatch it.
“It is done,” Yaga says.
“Will he be fine now?” Nanami asks.
“He should be able to make a full recovery”
Nanami lets out a sigh of relief, though he still feels guilty about it. It was his fault after all, his own cowardice that caused harm to his friend.
“It wasn’t your fault,” Yaga says, as if reading his mind, “you were right to be scared. The curse would have gotten you, too.”
“If you say so,” he shrugs. “What you do, with the curses… Is that something I can learn to do, too?”
“Probably,” Yaga says. “Why? Would you be interested?”
He shrugs again, not really answering the question. “Do you think I would be suited for it?” He continues, “I could help people, right?”
They sit in silence for what feels like a really long time, until finally Yaga stands up. “There is a school for kids like you,” he pauses, as if deciding if he should continue or not, then he says, “it is a dangerous world. When the higher ups come for you, and they will, you must be sure.”
Nanami chews on his lip “I understand,” he says, not really understanding.
“I don’t like doing this kind of thing with kids from non-sorcerer families, but there are very few of us in this world,” Yaga says.
Nanami nods, not sure about what to say, so he stays silent and lets Yaga continue.
“I will have to mention your existence at my next meeting with them,” he says. “I’m sure the higher ups will like you. They’ll say you have potential.”
“You don’t think I do?” Nanami asks, curious.
“I’m positive you do, but it’s complicated. There’s more to being a sorcerer than being able to see curses.”
“I’ll be ready when they come,” he says. Then, “What about my parents? Will they know about all of this?” He makes a vague gesture with his hands, trying to encompass sorcerers, curses and everything in between.
“I’m sure your parents will be told as much or as little as possible in order to convince them to give away their son,” Yaga says, sounding regretful.
“That doesn’t sound very nice,” Nanami says, his nose scrunched in distaste.
“They’re not very nice people,” Yaga says, “welcome to our world.”
-
They come for him on the eve of his middle school graduation. Old men wearing traditional clothes, with traditional values, and they come to take him away.
The old men talk about potential and gifts and curses. They don't leave his parents much choice. His parents don't exactly understand it, so they give away their child feeling a bit apprehensive, but make him promise that he will visit when his school work permits it.
He goes willingly, as willingly as a fifteen year old could go to an unknown place with unknown expectations, after all, he is supposedly suited for it.
He doesn't know, not really, what he's getting himself into, but he’ll learn, in time.
-
It takes him all of a day to realize the school is not normal at all.
For one, there’s only one other boy in his year. A cheerful black haired boy named Haibara Yu who is sure they'll become best friends after being introduced to each other. They sit at the front in the only two seats present in the classroom.
Then, Yaga-sensei gives him a weapon.
“To start,” he says, by way of introduction.
It’s a heavy thing, shaped like a cleaver and wrapped in cloth. What am I supposed to do with this? He wants to ask.
-
In the school, they take what he would consider some normal high school courses like math and languages, but they spend much more time learning how to fight. He had never fought anybody or anything in his entire life, but he takes to it fast. Yaga-sensei calls him a natural.
He learns about curse energy and how to use it. He learns about different types of curses, battle scenarios, tactics and strategy (he’s even better at these). When they are deemed ready, they go on missions and they eliminate curses.
To protect non-sorcerers, they say.
To maintain peace and order, they say.
For the greater good, they say.
And other grand sounding ideals.
Haibara doesn’t seem to have a problem with any of it. He likes helping people and he’s good at it.
Nanami struggles with finding purpose, but supposes he will get used to it eventually. Helping people doesn’t sound so bad anyway.
*
He has been looking at the same spreadsheet, for the past thirty minutes without pause, the writing on the function prompt blinking incessantly. He knows he’s spacing out. What’s worse is that he can’t even remember what he is supposed to be doing in it. He knows he’ll have to stay over time, again.
He rubs his eyes, already feeling tired. He’ll have to check the task planner. He checks the time, instead.
1:32. He supposes he can take his lunch break now.
He grabs his jacket from the back of his chair and heads to the door, his steps taking him to a familiar direction once on the street.
He steps inside the bakery, the familiar scents of bread and baked goods assault his senses. The place is uncharacteristically empty. He is greeted as usual by the familiar sight of the girl at the counter and the curse on her shoulder.
“Welcome,” she says cheerfully. “What can I get for you?”
He points to the sub at the front of the display without really looking, his eyes focused on the curse. It looks at least twice as big from the last time he saw it.
“How’s your health?” he asks, trying to sound as casual as possible, though he knows this isn’t the kind of thing one asks a stranger.
“It’s fine?” she says, puzzled. “Are you okay? You look a bit...” tired is left unsaid as she trails off.
You're cursed. It’s getting bigger and I hadn’t noticed.He thinks. Instead, he says,“I’m okay. Thanks for the bread.” He pays for it and heads to the exit.
“Thank you and welcome back anytime.”
He wonders what is making the curse grow, if it’s causing her pain, if she notices the change, which doesn’t seem likely based on her overall demeanor. He will have to keep a closer eye on it from now on.
Or you could just take care of it, his mind whispers. He decides to ignore it.
-
Seasons change and life goes on.
During his first year in Jujutsu high, he trains and studies with Haibara.
“Nanami, look at this. Doesn't my bruise look like the prime minister?”
“No.”
He studies.
“Nanami, let me borrow your homework!”
He goes home sometimes.
“So, Kento, how's school? Do you like it? Have you made any friends?”
He has friends.
“Nanamin, I'm bored. Play with me!” Gojo says.
“Satoru, stop pestering the first years.” Geto tries to hit him in the back of the head.
“I'm not a pest! We're friends, right?” Gojo whines.
“No, we're not.” Nanami deadpans.
“Nanamin, how could you be so mean?”
“I'll play with you Gojo-senpai!”
“Awww, Haibara! You're my favorite now~”
-
Then...
Haibara dies.
Geto becomes a curse user.
And life goes on. In many ways, it is the same as before, but in many others it isn’t.
And that’s a problem.
He is the sole first year student remaining and he is alone for years.
And that’s a problem.
*
“Welcome! Would you like your usual?”
End the curse. It’s right in front of you.
-
“It’s really good isn’t it?” she asks.
“Best bread I’ve ever had,” he says honestly.
Do something about it.
I can’t.
Why?
I don’t know.
-
“How’ve you been? Seems like you have been coming a lot lately.”
“I’m perfectly fine.”
You won’t even have to use that much energy. It’s tiny.
-
“Thanks for your continued support!”
Turn around. C’mon, do it.
-
“You know, I’ve been having some pain in my shoulder lately. Maybe I need a new pillow… Oh, here’s your change. Thanks for your purchase.”
…
*
He had just gone past the fourth year’s classroom, when he heard his name being called through the seemingly opened door. “Hey, Nanamin, come here.”
He looks inside the classroom. Gojo Satoru is inside, sitting in one of the two desks in the room. He has what looks like a six pack in the desk beside him.
“Come join me, Nanamin. It’s a momentous occasion.”
“You shouldn’t be drinking that in here,” he says, with no discernible inflection, not really caring about what Gojo did or didn’t do.
“You’re no fun,” Gojo says, snickering. “Besides, it’s not like it matters anyway. Who’s gonna stop me? Today is my last day. Ready to become a respected member of Jujutsu society.”
“You, respected? Ridiculous,” Nanami says, taking the only other available seat. Gojo lets out a bark of laughter, placing a beer in front of Nanami.
“Ha! Mean as always,” he says. “Well, cheers!” He takes a sip and makes a disgusted face. “Gross. I don’t know how Utahime drinks this swill.”
Idiot, Nanami thinks. “What are you doing drinking that anyway if you don’t even like it?” He said, looking at the unopened can in front of him.
“I’d never tried it. I figured it would work just as well to get me drunk.”
“Why would you want to get drunk?” Nanami says.
“Something to do, I guess.” He shrugs. “But, now that you’re here we can play a drinking game! Let’s play the name-your-favorite-things-about-Gojo-Satoru game. I’ll start: Gojo Satoru is infinitely handsome!”
“You’re ridiculous,” Nanami says, feeling suddenly exhausted and regretting his decision to join Gojo in his stupidity.
“Why, thank you Nanamin, I try my best,” he says, blowing out a kiss.
Nanami feels a vein popping in his forehead, irritation swelling in his chest. As Gojo continues to prattle on his incessant drivel about himself, he decides to ask a question that had been plaguing his mind for quite some time,“Gojo, shut up for just a second,” he says. “I want to ask you something.”
“What?”
“Why do you fight?”
“Because I'm the strongest,” he replies matter of factly, with a grin on his face.
“Somebody thinks highly of themselves,” Nanami deadpans.
“Pfft,” he scoffs. “You know that if I wasn't here shit would just fall apart. Besides, I just like fighting. Most of the time that’s enough for me.”
It was true that the existence of Gojo Satoru had shaken Jujutsu society at its core, and had thrown a wrench into the plans of curse users all over. Nanami is about to say something when Gojo continues.
“But, you know, what I like the most is power,” he says, with a smile on the feral side of his face, his eyes obscured by dark sunglasses. “I like having it. I like using it. And, man, how I am going to use it now.”
“How?”
“Heh. You’ll see,” he says, grinning still.
“I don’t think I will,” Nanami says, reluctantly.
“What do you mean?” Gojo asks, puzzled.
“I’ve decided that,” he starts and hesitates, “After next year, I’ll stop being a sorcerer. I don’t want to be a part of this world anymore.”
“Why would you do that?”
“I can’t accept it, this kind of society that only takes and sacrifices,” Nanami states, suddenly angry. “It’s bullshit.”
“And what are you going to do? Go to college? Get a normal job? Marry a rich woman?” Gojo asks, baffled though increasingly amused.
“Anything,” Nanami says with determination. “I refuse to keep putting my life and my friend’s life at risk for no reason.”
They were silent for a couple of seconds until Gojo breaks it, laughing loudly. Nanami keeps his composure, though internally he seethes at the thought of being made fun of. He really dislikes this guy.
“Are you quite finished?” he says seemingly calmly.
“Yeah, yeah. Sorry,” Gojo says, wiping a stray tear from his eye. “Can’t say I blame you though. You’re crazier than I thought.”
They sit quietly for some time, neither knowing what else to say at this point. Seems like it’s the end of the conversation when Gojo rises from his seat.
“Well, let me know how it goes. You know, being normal and stuff”
Nanami raises an eyebrow as his only response.
“I mean it,” Gojo states, a bit more seriously. “Keep in touch.”
“Sure,” he says. Gojo heads to the door, and Nanami points to the beers, “What are you doing with these?”
“Oh, keep them,” Gojo says from the door. “Seems like you need them more than me.”
Nanami is left alone in the classroom. He looks at the can in front of him for what seems like a long time. He opens it and takes a sip, the liquid tasting bitter in his mouth.
*
The day starts like any other day. He goes through his normal morning routine for a working day.
Everything seems the same as always, though, at the same time it is slightly different. Maybe because he feels more exhausted than usual, maybe because he hasn’t been sleeping well lately, maybe because he has been working overtime more often.
In any case, it might be because he has finally made a decision.
He goes to work and goes through the motions like any other day
Lunchtime arrives, and as always, he goes to his usual place. He thinks he might get something different today.
He enters the bakery and is greeted by a familiar sight. Not for long, he thinks.
The curse looks like it's taunting him, daring him to act. It doesn’t think that he has the guts to do something about it, to eliminate it. Big mistake on its part, but he doesn’t care. Today is the day.
Something about this whole situation, either the curse, the girl, hunger, or exhaustion, prompts him to start going on about his job and the futility of it all. The baker girl looks confused, wondering what brought this on, perhaps. He’s going on a ridiculous riff but he doesn’t care, neither does she, it seems, because she asks him if he's bragging or something. He decides he likes her a little bit more just for that.
It doesn’t matter because it is time.
“Would you please tilt your head a little bit to the side? Thanks,” he says. She complies, not really knowing why.
He gathers a small amount of his curse energy in the palm of his hand. Not a whole lot is needed for the curse, even if it has been growing, is still small, insignificant, barely even noticeable. That is, to him, at least. For her it’s causing more problems that she would admit to a stranger she sees occasionally.
He prepares his energy and lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. His arm slices the air in a sweeping motion, carrying the curse with it, disintegrating it. He spares a glance at the girl in front of him, now curse free. She looks stunned, not sure about what just happened.
He closes his eyes for a second, the tension leaving his body.
She is free.
He feels a mix of emotions now that it is done: embarrassment and guilt that it took him this long to act, but also relief. He is free as well: the curse had also taken a hold on him and his thoughts.
Before the girl has time to recover, he leaves the price for the bread on the counter, 520 yen exactly. He thanks her for the bread and instructs that if she feels any pain anywhere she should go to a doctor.
He turns around and heads to the exit. Once on the street, he thinks about what he’s going to do next, his thoughts clear for the first time in so long.
He hasn’t walked more than ten steps when he hears a noise. He doesn’t turn around but hears the girl from the bakery yell from behind him.
“I don’t know what you did, mister, but thank you!” she says, “come back anytime!”
He feels slightly embarrassed because of the attention, but his chest fills with unexpected warmth (at the girl, perhaps). He realizes that in his years as a sorcerer, no exorcism he had performed had ever felt as satisfying as this one.
That wasn’t so difficult now, was it?
No, it wasn’t.
Thank you.
Thank you. And I’m sorry.
He pulls out his phone and starts dialing a number he hasn’t used in months. The call connects at the third tone.
“Nanamin~ to what do I owe this pleasure?” he hears Gojo Satoru’s voice from the other end of the line. “Did you miss me?”
“No. Do you have any jobs available?”
“Always,” Gojo replies, sounding amused, “So, does this mean you have graduated from salary-man school?”
“Please, don’t say it like that,” he says patiently.
“Whatever you say, Nanamin.” then he adds, sounding uncharacteristically sincere, “Welcome back, man.”
“Thank you,” he says and hangs up.
He feels like he might regret this decision later, since dealing with Gojo on a regular basis has always been a chore, but for now, it’s okay. It feels better than the alternative.
And that’s enough for him.