When I woke up in a park somewhere in Japan, I was confused and honestly, more than a little freaked out. At first, I thought I was just disoriented, maybe jet-lagged or dreaming. But then I started seeing things.
Not just strange monsters. Little ones crawling in the corners of my vision, and every now and then, something big. Towering. Wrong.
I thought I was losing my mind. So I did the most logical thing I could: I went to the police.
Luckily, one of the officers spoke English. I tried to explain that I didn't know how I got there but halfway through, I realized that probably sounded sketchy as hell. I mean, saying "I just woke up in your country" out loud? Yeah, not exactly a good look.
And if I told them I was seeing monsters? That's a one-way ticket to a padded room and medication I can't pronounce.
So I played it safe. I just asked for directions to a bank and a hotel.
The cops looked at me like I was weird, but they still pointed me in the right direction. A hotel. A bank. Normal stuff.
But as I walked, the world around me got less and less normal.
I saw them again.
Those... things.
Slithering across sidewalks, perched on rooftops, even crawling along people's backs like invisible parasites. And the worst part? No one else saw them. No one screamed. No one even blinked.
The people they clung to looked drained like they'd just come out of a horror movie and didn't realize it yet. Pale skin. Heavy eyes. Rage simmering just under the surface.
One of the creatures jumped onto me.
I panicked and kicked at it. My leg passed right through, but it twitched. It noticed.
Then it just... drifted off. Like I wasn't worth it.
I stood there, heart racing, in a city I didn't recognize, surrounded by monsters no one else could see.
This wasn't just a different country.
This was a different world.
And I'm fucking alone in this world.
A different world.
I made my way to the bank, exchanged the money I had on me U.S. dollars, all cash. I never trusted banks anyway. Been carrying my savings on me since forever.
Dropped $2,000 USD. Got back 289,850 yen. It felt like play money. Monopoly bills. I shoved it in my pocket, numb.
As I walked through the city, the noise buzzed in the background cars, chatter, and these giant TV screens plastered on the sides of buildings. One caught my eye.
A news report.
Another killing. Same area I was in. Tokyo.
"What the hell is going on here...?"
I squinted at the screen, trying to catch the scrolling date.
01/01/2005
I froze.
Bro.
I wasn't even born in this world yet.
What the hell is this? A dream? A glitch? Reincarnation? Dimensional dump?
The more I found out, the worse it got.
Tokyo. Monsters. News of deaths.
And now the timeline's screwed too?
I'm not just in another country. I'm not even in the right damn year.
The weight of it started sinking in. Like someone tied a brick to my chest and dropped me in deep water.
I was in a world that didn't know me, didn't want me, and might just eat me alive if I stayed clueless.
And no one's coming to save me.
I made it to the hotel the cop mentioned.
Took me a few awkward minutes to explain what I wanted my Japanese is trash, and pointing at the counter like a caveman only got me so far. Eventually, they handed me a key. Room 203.
Cool.
That's what this place is for, right?
To sleep.
To rest.
To forget.
I stepped inside the room. It was small, smelled faintly like cigarettes and pine cleaner. But the bed God, the bed was heaven.
I collapsed onto it like a sack of broken bricks.
At first, the anger came.
Why me?
Why the hell am I here?
Who dragged me into this world of monsters no one else can see?
I tried to make sense of it. Tried to think of any reason. But I got nothing.
Am I going insane?
I asked myself that a hundred times. Said it out loud.
"Am I going fucking crazy?"
No one answered.
I clenched my fists and slammed the wall. Hard.
Felt it vibrate through my bones, but… it didn't hurt like I expected.
Weird.
My eyes were squeezed shut, but I felt it more than saw it. The stillness. The isolation. The damn silence pressing in on me.
And then it broke.
Not the wall.
Me.
Tears started leaking out before I could stop them. Quiet at first. Then ugly. Snot, sobs, shaking.
Full-body sadness. That kind you can't swallow down.
The kind that makes you feel like a ghost in your own skin.
And just like that… I fell asleep.
Didn't dream. Didn't toss or turn.
Just crashed the kind of sleep that only comes after your soul's been wrung out.
When I woke up, the depression was still there.
Clinging to me like a damp blanket.
But life doesn't give a damn about your feelings.
No one was coming to save me, pat me on the back, or explain what the hell was going on.
So I dragged myself out of bed.
No time for self-pity.
First things first: figure out how to survive in a world I don't belong in.
Step one somehow get an ID and a visitor visa.
Step two somehow get a job.
Step three don't go broke, don't starve, and don't let the monsters eat me.
Solid plan.
Vague as hell, but better than curling up and crying again.
First step? Visa.
Which is why I found myself in a cab heading to the Ministry of Foreign Affairs in Tokyo.
The whole ride there, I was sweating bullets mentally rehearsing fake stories, thinking up half-lies, wondering if I'd end up in a cell or deported or worse.
When I got there, it was questions.
So many questions.
Where are you from? How did you get here? Why don't you have documentation? What's your purpose in Japan?
And somehow... through what I can only call divine-level dumb luck, I walked out of there with a visitor visa.
No bribes. No blackmail, Just paperwork, a weird amount of eye contact, and a signature that definitely wasn't mine.
Honestly? I'm not even sure how it happened.
Did they mistake me for someone else?
Did I answer something just right without realizing it?
Whatever the reason I didn't ask questions. I got the hell out of there.
POV – Two Important-Looking Officials
"Was… was that a Jujutsu Sorcerer just now?"
"No clue. But did you see how weird he was acting? All twitchy and mysterious. Classic undercover sorcerer vibes."
"Yeah! He probably didn't say much because he's on some secret mission. Like, deep cover. Maybe even tracking a Curse User hiding in Tokyo."
"Makes sense. That must be why we weren't briefed. Need-to-know basis. But we're smart. We picked up on it immediately."
"Damn right. Real ones always know. Give it a few days, the higher-ups will probably commend us."
And thus, the colossal misunderstanding that he was a highly ranked undercover sorcerer spread like wildfire through government channels.
Nobody questioned the source.
Nobody double-checked anything.
Because, of course, it originated from two absolute buffoons who handed a visa to a total stranger based on nothing but vibes.
Yup. Tokyo's finest.
"We're so smart," they said.
END POV
After leaving the Ministry, I headed straight for the most logical place I could think of a library. If anywhere had a public computer in 2005, it'd be there. And I was right. A row of dusty machines humming with the slowness of the early internet age, but still kicking.
I jumped on one and started searching for job listings any kind of work that didn't need fluent Japanese. There weren't any online applications back then, so I jotted down addresses. Six places. All within walking distance, more or less.
One by one, I hit them up.
Five out of six turned me down. Can't say I blame them foreign guy, no Japanese, no resume, just vibes.
But the last one… the last one was a little dojo tucked between a laundromat and a noodle shop.
The old guy running the place didn't care that I couldn't speak much. He just looked at me, pointed to the mop, then the clock, then the floor. I got the message.
Cleaning job. 2,000 yen an hour. No talking needed just show up, clean, leave.
Honestly? I'll take it.
Days began to blur.
Every morning, I'd wake up in that tiny hotel room still not fully convinced I wasn't dreaming and make my way to the dojo. The routine was simple: mop the floor, wipe down the mirrors, dust off the wooden weapons, and take out the trash. The work wasn't glamorous, but it was honest.
The dojo itself was quiet in the mornings. I usually arrived before the first class started. Sometimes I'd catch the old master doing slow, deliberate movements with a wooden sword. Other times, I'd hear the radio playing old enka music in the background.
He never asked me questions. Just nodded when I showed up and left me alone.
There was peace in that.
I started to memorize the rhythm of Tokyo's streets. I learned where the good, cheap food was. I found a corner store that sold slightly expired snacks at half price. I made 2000 yen an hour, worked five hours a day, six days a week. That gave me just enough for food, rent, and a little leftover.
Still couldn't speak Japanese. Still saw those... things in the corners of my vision.
But I stopped reacting to them.
They seemed to notice when you looked straight at them so I stopped doing that too. I still felt like I was gonna piss myself every time one crept close, but I kept my face blank, eyes down, heart pounding like a drumline.
I played the part. Normal guy. Invisible horrors? Never heard of them.
It worked.
Until it didn't.
One night, I came back to my hotel room, bone tired and ready to crash, and there it was.
Just... hovering.
It was small, no bigger than a basketball. It had wings, leathery and twitching like a bug's. No eyes. No nose. Just a face that was all mouth. Wide, too wide like it had unzipped its whole head just to scream. Except it didn't make a sound.
I froze.
It was hovering above the table, like it owned the place. It didn't look at me, 'cause it couldn't. But it knew I was there. I could feel it. Like when you know someone's staring at the back of your head from across the room.
I did the only thing I could think of.
I turned around, walked back out the door, and stood in the hallway for a full five minutes.
Breathing.
Thinking.
Trying not to scream.
I didn't go back in right away.
Instead, I walked down the hall quiet, slow and found the janitor's closet near the elevator. It wasn't locked.
I opened it, found an old broom, and popped the brush head off. That left me with a long, hollow staff made out of cheap aluminum. Light. Flimsy. Better than nothing.
I held it in both hands like it was some kind of spear.
Truth was, I had no idea what I was doing. No plan. Just a stick and panic.
But I couldn't leave it there. That thing was in my room.
So I walked back, slow and steady. Took a deep breath outside the door. My hand was shaking on the knob.
"Okay," I whispered to myself. "Okay. You're not crazy. You're not cursed. You're just... not ready. But you're doing this anyway."
And I opened the door.
The room was dark.
Quiet.
But it was still there.
Floating. Waiting.
That same nightmare balloon of a creature, wings twitching in the still air. Its mouth was open now, not moving but I felt something. Like a pressure in my ears. Like the whole room was under water.
It turned toward me if you could call that turning and I swung.
Hard.
The metal staff cracked against its side with a loud clang.
It didn't go through. It didn't even dent the thing.
But it moved. It staggered, if floating things could do that. And I backed up, breathing heavy.
It shrieked.
Not out loud. Not with sound. With feeling. Like its rage crawled up my spine and screamed into my skull.
And that's when it hit me
I needed to fight.
Not with a stick.
Not like this.
I needed something better.
I needed
A spear.
When I thought of it, the broomstick reacted.
This blue… stuff like energy, like smoke, like flame started wrapping around the metal rod. The tip began to stretch, reshape. It twisted into a point. A spearhead.
Then I felt it.
Energy, not from outside but from me. Like it was being sucked out of my gut, crawling through my chest, down my arms, and into the spear.
And then... it started fading. Like the energy had cooled. The spear was still there, still real, but the light dimmed. The pressure dropped. It wasn't gone just faint now. Waiting.
But I felt something else, too.
Confidence.
It wasn't smart. Or brave. Or earned. But I had a weapon now.
So I rushed in.
I stabbed at the little monster tried to, anyway. It just floated back from the hit. Like I shoved a balloon with a pool noodle.
So I swung at it.
This time, the hit landed. The spear connected. But again nothing. No damage. No blood. No scream.
I was doing nothing.
Absolutely nothing.
Panic started bubbling up again, but then an idea hit me.
I reached for that feeling. That foreign sensation in my gut. That energy I didn't know what it was yet, but I knew it was real.
I pulled on it. Focused. Pushed it back into the spear.
And it listened.
That blue light returned, brighter, fiercer, sparking like fire on metal.
The spear glowed.
I swung again.
And it dodged
And this time, the little monster moved. Its wings flared wide it darted to the side with unnatural speed, shrieking without a voice. It felt that swing. It didn't want another one.
"Yeah," I whispered. "Now we're talking."
It flew at me with insane speed. I couldn't dodge, not fast enough but I raised the spear, hoping it'd hold. The blue energy I was giving off wrapped around it, thicker this time.
The impact shook my whole body, but I managed to block it.
I shifted right. The little monster slammed into the wall behind me. It didn't stop moving. Didn't stop screaming.
I gritted my teeth and poured more of that weird energy into the tip of the spear. Then I stabbed.
Purple blood sprayed out. It screamed louder, still wiggling even with the spear inside it. I was freaking out. I wanted it to stop.
So I let go of the spear. Grabbed it with both arms. Tackled it.
I don't know what the hell I was doing panic, I guess. Just straight-up fear.
I held it down, and a thought hit me.
What if I did to it what I did to the stick?
So I focused. Pulled the weird energy from my stomach, through my hands, and into the monster.
Then I pictured something simple. Something small.
A dagger.
It shrieked. Twisted. Flared up like it was burning. But I kept going. Kept pouring more into it. All while yelling in my head
Come on. Dagger. Dagger. Work.
And then it stopped moving.
The monster was gone. The spear I dropped earlier was just lying there, useless now.
In its place, in my hand…
A dagger.
Curved. Sharp. With a grip that felt like it belonged to me.
There was a blue hue coming off the weapon too same kind of glow the little monster had. Faint, but there if I looked close enough.
After turning that thing into a blade, I cleaned the room. It was a mess furniture scattered, a hole in the wall from the fight. I moved the bed to cover it, closed the door, and sat down. I fell into a deep thought spiral.
Because all of this... I've seen it before.
Monsters only I can see. Energy that reacts to anger and frustration. An ability that just... comes to me, like the blueprint is burned into my brain.
I haven't seen this in real life, no. But I've seen it in anime.
Jujutsu Kaisen.
I watched both seasons. Loved it so much I read the whole manga. Twice. Took notes, even studied the power system so I could understand it better.
And now?
I'm in it.
I know, sounds crazy. Sounds like I'm jumping the gun. But I'm sure.
This ability I have it's not just instinct. It's familiar. I can create weapons from anything I touch. Organic or not. If it's alive, I gotta weaken it first. But once I do… it's like the material listens to me.
My power is to create weapons from the things around me.
And yeah, I know a lot about this world. Too much, maybe.
So to be sent here of all places?
I don't know if I'm lucky or cursed.
Honestly?
Feels like the unlucky kind of isekai.
I'm so screwed.
If the Jujutsu Society finds out about me? That I'm unregistered, untrained, and wielding cursed energy without a being from them? Yeah dead man walking.
And if they don't find out?
Then I'm even more screwed. Because that means I'm on my own. Alone. Just me, these monsters, and a cheap-ass cursed weapon made from a flying meatball.
Either way, I'm stuck between two bad options.
So I've got no choice.
I have to get stronger.
Stronger than I've ever been.
Strong enough to defend myself, to survive, and maybe just maybe find a way to exist in this cursed world without getting erased by it.
But first... sleep.
I needed it bad. My whole body ached, my mind was foggy, and the adrenaline crash hit like a freight train.
But there was one problem:
Where the hell was I supposed to hide the weapon?
I mean, I can't just walk around with a cursed dagger on me. People would freak out. Or worse someone from the Jujutsu Society might notice.
Then, maybe by instinct… or dumb luck… I held the blade close to my chest.
And something happened.
A dark hole opened right in the center of my chest.
Not physical, not really.
More like… a tear in reality, just for a second.
The blade was pulled in, swallowed like it never existed.
It didn't hurt. But it felt… weird.
I could still feel the dagger. Not in my hand anymore, but somewhere inside me. Like it had taken up space near something important not my heart, no. If it were that, I think I'd be dead already.
It was deeper.
It was near... my soul.
And that's the thing. I can feel my soul now. Not in some vague metaphorical way literally. It's like a second body, one shaped exactly like me. Scars and all.
Maybe it's a side effect of being dragged into this world.
Maybe this is how sorcerers work here.
Or maybe it's just me.
But now I know one thing for sure:
I can feel my soul.
And it's holding my weapon for me.
I woke up with my face stuck to a tatami mat and a dull ache in my back. Hotel futons weren't made for people with spine-related dreams.
"Okay," I muttered to no one. "Let's pretend we're normal today."
The dojo was only a fifteen-minute walk from the hotel. The streets were still quiet Tokyo hadn't woken up yet. A few early risers jogged past. One woman walked her tiny dog in a baby stroller. I tried not to stare.
When I arrived, the door to the dojo was already cracked open. Sensei looked up from his tea.
"You're early," he said in Japanese.
"Bad at sleeping," I replied. He didn't laugh, but he did nod, like that was the most reasonable answer in the world.
The cleaning was simple. Sweep. Wipe. Rinse. Repeat.
Sensei didn't talk much, but once while I was cleaning the windows, he said, "You move like you've cleaned temples before."
"First time. I just… try not to embarrass myself."
He gave me the ghost of a smile and went back to meditating.
By noon, I was free. I washed my hands in the tiny sink at the back and said, "I'm heading out."
"Be safe," he replied. That was the most words he'd said to me in three days.
The ward office was another world entirely paperwork, fluorescent lights, and a line that curled like a dying centipede.
I stood awkwardly until it was my turn, handed over the form I got from the library printer, and said, "Help?"
The clerk blinked. "Do you have your passport?"
I nodded and handed it over.
"Visa?"
I pointed to a section of the form where I'd scribbled a fake explanation about being a foreign exchange worker. She squinted. I smiled.
"Photo?" she asked.
"Ah… tomorrow?"
She sighed. "You'll need an address too."
I gave her the name of the hotel.
"That's not permanent."
"I'm working on it."
Another sigh, another paper added to the stack. She handed it all back with a tiny bow. "Come back when you have everything."
"Arigatou," I said, retreating like a soldier with no ammo.
After that, I needed somewhere to live that wasn't a closet with vending machines outside. The paper listings I found at the library were ancient, but one place caught my eye a small one-room apartment above a ramen shop.
The landlord opened the door in a tank top and slippers, looked me up and down, and said, "You're not a junkie, right?"
"Not that I know of."
He snorted. "You'll pay on time?"
"I'll try."
That was good enough for him. He handed me a key without ceremony. "First Friday. Don't bring cops."
I bowed out. "I'll try that too."
There was still one more thing to do.
I stopped by the bank on the way home. The air conditioning hit like heaven. A man in a suit asked what I needed.
"Account," I said.
"Do you have your residence card?"
"…It's coming."
"Phone number?"
"Hotel. Temporary."
He stared at me, then at his computer, then at me again.
"You are… tourist?"
"Let's say I'm staying for a while."
He disappeared for ten minutes, came back with a paper, and said, "Please return next week with documents."
"Got it."
By the time I got back to the apartment, the sun had dipped behind the buildings. I sat on the floor, still not used to how quiet everything felt here.
A single cup noodle sat in front of me on a cardboard box I was using as a table.
I looked around the room. It was mine, technically.
Small, a little dusty, smelled like soy sauce from the ramen shop below.
But it was mine.
I took a breath. "Alright," I said. "First day wasn't a total disaster."
I slurped my noodles like it was a victory meal.
Tomorrow would probably suck again.
But I had a key in my pocket.
And no one had tried to kill me… yet.
Two Days Later – The Grocery Store Saga
I stood in the aisle of the konbini, frozen like I was facing a cursed spirit.
Not because anything was attacking me unless you count the sheer variety of rice balls.
Tuna mayo? Plum? Salmon? Something called "mentaiko"?
I grabbed the tuna. You can't go wrong with tuna. Right?
The clerk didn't even blink as I fumbled with the self-checkout like an 80-year-old with a flip phone.
"Point card?" he asked.
"…No?"
"Would you like one?"
"…No."
I walked out with a plastic bag that felt way too small for the existential struggle I'd just gone through.
The Washing Machine From Hell
Back at the apartment, I stared at the washing machine like it owed me money.
It had three buttons and twelve symbols. None of them made sense.
I pressed one. It beeped. Nothing happened.
Pressed another. A red light. That didn't feel right.
"Okay, okay," I muttered. "Just wash. That's all. Just wash."
Ten minutes and a google searchl later, the machine finally roared to life.
Progress. I might not be exorcising curses yet, but at least I wasn't going to die with dirty socks.
I was dragging my laundry back up the stairs when the door across the hall opened.
A girl with short hair and earphones stepped out, holding a bag of trash.
She saw me. I saw her.
Polite nod. That's normal.
Then she spoke. "Are you the new guy?"
"Yeah. Just moved in."
"Cool. I'm Sora. Don't block the hallway with shoes, and don't use the shower after 1AM. It echoes."
I blinked. "Noted."
"Oh, and the ramen downstairs is better after 9PM." She gave a thumbs up and vanished like a ninja.
I stood there for a moment, trying to process the fact that I had just been given a schedule for noodles.
Laying on the futon again. Same backache, same ceiling.
This world… was weirdly normal.
Bills, groceries, neighbors with ramen wisdom.
And yet, I couldn't shake the feeling that something heavy was coming.
Not yet. But soon.
Still tomorrow, I'd try the vending machine on the corner. The one with the drinks that glow in the dark.
And maybe, just maybe, I'd figure out how to open a damn bank account without needing a blood pact.
Early Morning – The Dojo
The scent hit first tatami mats, sandalwood, and something ancient. I showed up early again, like I had the last few days. Cleaned the front, dusted the floor, wiped down every wooden weapon like it was made of gold.
The old man owner of the dojo watched me silently. Always did. He barely said a word past telling me where the broom was.
Today I tried something different.
After I finished cleaning the floors, I stood in front of him and bowed, hands at my sides like I'd seen in the movies.
He raised an eyebrow. "You done?"
"Yes, but… could you teach me? Please."
He didn't reply immediately. Just stared like he was weighing me like a bag of rice. Then he exhaled through his nose, the kind of sound that carried a whole conversation.
"You don't even know what style this is."
"I'll learn."
"It's not a hobby."
"I'm not here for a hobby."
He gave me a long look, then gestured to a wooden sword resting against the wall.
"Pick it up. Show me your stance."
I picked it up.
It was heavier than it looked.
My stance? Trash. I knew it. He knew it. The walls probably knew it.
But he didn't laugh. Just walked behind me and tapped my knee with a stick. "Too stiff. You'll snap like a twig."
"Yes, sensei," I said without thinking.
He grunted. "Don't call me that yet."
Later That Afternoon – Apartment Chat
I ran into the landlord while struggling to carry a bucket of groceries up the stairs. The man looked like he hadn't changed his shirt since the '80s and probably ran the building on favors and grumpiness alone.
"You're the foreigner in 2B, right?" he asked, eyeing the bag of rice in my hands.
"Yeah. I'm uh still figuring things out. I wanted to ask… How do I get proper documents? A bank account, an ID maybe?"
He scratched his head. "You've got a job?"
I nodded. "At a dojo. Cleaning."
"Cash?"
I nodded again.
He sighed. "Well, that's not gonna get you far. You'll need a resident card. Visa. Paperwork. Do you have a sponsor?"
"…No."
"Then you're gonna need help. There's a place down the street volunteer office. They help people like you, I think. You speak any Japanese?"
"A little. Enough to get lost politely."
He snorted. "Better than most. Go tomorrow, morning's best."
"Thank you," I said.
"Don't thank me. Just don't burn the place down."
Evening – Ramen Shop
It was drizzling.
Not hard just enough that the neon signs bled into puddles on the pavement like watercolors.
I ducked into the ramen shop Sora told me about. Tiny place, maybe four stools and one guy behind the counter who looked like he'd been born with a ladle in hand.
"First time?" he asked.
"Yeah."
"Spicy miso?"
"…Sure."
A few minutes later, he slid over a bowl that smelled like heaven and regret.
I took a bite. The spice hit like a freight train but settled like a warm blanket. I hadn't realized how hungry I was.
As I ate, I thought about the dojo, the landlord, the stupid washing machine, the monster I'd killed and forged into a weapon…
No.
Not tonight.
Tonight, I was just another guy eating ramen in a quiet part of Tokyo.
The Next Morning – Volunteer Center
It took me three wrong turns, one accidental detour through a fish market, and one old woman smacking me with her handbag (long story), but I found the place.
Small office. Fluorescent lighting. Posters everywhere. The kind of place that runs on burnt coffee and good intentions.
A middle-aged woman in glasses looked up from her desk. "Hello! English okay?"
I nodded, out of breath. "Yeah. I'm… looking to get a bank account. Maybe ID."
She smiled like she'd heard that line a thousand times.
"Do you have a passport?"
"…No."
"Any documentation?"
I shook my head.
Her smile dimmed, but it didn't vanish. "That makes things harder, but not impossible. You'll need to fill out this form. And this one. And this one, too."
She handed me a stack of paper thicker than my paycheck.
As I sat and tried to make sense of it all, a man walked in. Hoodie, sunglasses indoors, twitchy fingers. The kind of guy who looked like he was late to a crime.
He sat down two seats away. We didn't speak, but I felt it that weird pressure. Not cursed energy exactly, but... tension. A wrong note in a song only I could hear.
He looked at me once.
Then twice.
Then he smirked.
I kept my head down.
When I glanced back up, he was gone.
Midday – Back at the Dojo
I'd returned to my usual duties mopping floors, folding towels, trying to survive being hit with a wooden sword every ten minutes.
"You're still stiff," the old man muttered, adjusting my stance with a practiced hand. "Like a frightened animal."
"I am a frightened animal," I grunted.
He cracked the faintest grin. "Good. Know your limits."
I managed to parry one strike. One. He hit me five times after that, but still progress.
At the end of the session, while I nursed my bruised shoulder, he handed me a cloth-wrapped bundle.
"Your own bokken. Wood, not plastic. Don't break it."
"…Thank you."
"Don't thank me. Earn it."
Late Evening – Apartment Front
The landlord was crouched outside, feeding a stray cat some leftover yakitori.
He nodded at me. "How's city life?"
"Fast," I said. "Loud. Expensive."
He chuckled. "That's Tokyo. You get your papers?"
"Working on it. Ran into a weird guy at the office though."
He looked up. "Weird how?"
"Just… off. The kind of guy who walks like he's waiting for someone to follow him."
The landlord chewed on his toothpick. "Tokyo has all types. Watch your back, kid."
Then he stood and went inside, cat following like it owned the building.
Night – Ramen Again
Same shop.
Same stool.
Different mood.
I wasn't just eating now I was thinking. Running through everything. The blade in my soul-space. The monster. The strange energy. The dojo. The weird guy. The growing feeling that I wasn't just here by chance.
The ramen guy passed me my bowl. "You're back."
"Yeah."
"You look more tired."
I slurped some broth. "Learning things. Hard things."
He nodded like that made perfect sense.
"You'll get better," he said. "Or fail. But probably better."
"…Thanks?"
"Anytime."
The Next Morning – On the Way to the Dojo
I was walking the usual path to the dojo, hands in my pockets, head still heavy with sleep, when I felt it that cold pressure in the back of my mind.
A curse. Nearby.
I paused near a narrow alley, eyes scanning. It was faint but familiar, like a bad memory. Slipping into the shadows, I saw it.
A curse. Dog-shaped. Mangy, patchy fur. Blood dripping from its mouth real blood. It had been eating a stray. Its eyes locked onto me with that same animal hunger.
If I had to guess, based on what I know from Jujutsu Kaisen, this was probably a Grade 4. Maybe a weak Grade 3.
I pressed my palm against my chest. The blade my cursed weapon was there, resting in that strange space I now knew was linked to my soul.
I reached in, not physically, but with something deeper. And with my actual hand, I grabbed the dagger as it surfaced cold, pulsing faintly, hungry.
These days, I've gotten better at controlling cursed energy channeling it through my limbs, enhancing my speed, my strength, my reflexes.
So I moved.
Double my normal speed, faster than the curse expected. It lunged, teeth snapping toward my throat. I ducked, slid low, brought the dagger up under its neck, and sliced left.
Purple-black blood sprayed out like a busted pipe.
It yelped, stumbled back.
Before it could recover, I lunged again, drove the dagger into its side, pinning it down. It struggled, growling weakly.
My hand pressed to its twitching body.
I focused.
I was still learning the shape of this ability, but I'd made something once a dagger from a curse. Now I had a shape in mind: a katana. Sleek, balanced, something to match the basics I'd been training with at the dojo.
The curse twitched and wailed as its body twisted, melted, reshaped. My energy poured in, fusing memory and metal, instinct and intention.
When it stopped moving, the dagger slipped free, and in its place a katana rested across my hands.
Now I had two weapons: the dagger and the katana. Both felt right in hand hand i guess the grips were made in me in mind after all.
Leaving the alley, I wiped the blood off my hands the best I could, tucked the dagger back into my soul, and walked out like nothing happened.
No one noticed.
They never do.
I got to the dojo on time, swept the floors, cleaned the mats, and took out the trash the same as every other day. The old man gave me a nod, nothing more. He wasn't much for small talk, but lately, his eyes lingered on me a little longer. Like he was watching.
After work, I stayed behind and trained. Nothing fancy, just basics. Footwork. Stance. Grip. I wasn't strong yet, not really. But I could feel the pieces starting to come together.
Later that evening, I finally picked up the last document I needed. ID, residency proof, all the crap you need to not get kicked out of places or looked at sideways. Took way too many visits and way too much walking around government offices pretending I knew what I was doing.
But now I have it.
One more thing off the list.
But today was my day off. No dojo floors to mop, no errands to run, no cursed dogs to fight at least not yet.
I figured it was time to work on my cursed energy control.
In the manga, Yuji learned how to keep his cursed energy steady by watching a bunch of different emotional rollercoasters, basically while maintaining perfect control the whole time. The idea was that any spike or dip in emotion would mess with the cursed energy flow.
Made sense to me.
I'd already noticed that whenever I got angry or scared, my energy would flare up like a busted pipe. Wild. Unfocused. Like it was leaking out of me instead of doing anything useful.
So today, I hit up a local theater. Found one playing old films, cheap tickets, dark room, perfect. The plan was simple: watch the movie, feel the emotions, and keep my energy steady.
No outbursts. No leaks. Just calm, control, focus.
Of course, the first movie was some drama about a guy losing his wife to illness and then his son runs away. Great. Real heartbreaker stuff. I could feel my chest tighten and the energy in me itch to react.
But I held it.
Little by little, I started to feel it stabilize. Still there, still moving but more like a current now. Not a storm.
Progress.
The next movie was about a boy and his dog. Simple story, but the way they showed loyalty and loss hit me deep. I could feel my cursed energy twitch, like it wanted to surge, but I kept it locked down tight. No flare-ups. Just a steady hum under my skin.
Then came a girl and her imaginary friend. Weird, almost sweet in a sad way. I felt a strange tug, like part of me understood the loneliness. The energy buzzed softly, quieter this time like it was listening, learning.
Last up was a horror movie. Dark, creepy, full of jumps and screams. My heart thumped hard, and the cursed energy wanted to freak out and explode. But I breathed through it, steady as a stone, watching the fear come and go like waves. It was exhausting, but I held firm.
By the end, my cursed energy wasn't perfect. Far from it. But for the first time, it felt less like a wild beast and more like a tool I could shape.
Maybe, just maybe, I was starting to get the hang of this.
Next up, I worked on manipulating my cursed energy directly.
First thing, I pushed it out of my body. To my eyes, it glowed this eerie blue as it crawled over my finger, then my whole fist. It felt like holding fire alive, buzzing.
But even then, I could still feel it slipping away, like I wasn't holding it tight enough.
So I tried something different. I clenched my fist harder and focused on pulling that energy back in, squeezing it tight. Condensing it, packing it down so it wouldn't leak out anymore.
It was tough. My arm trembled from the effort, sweat dripping down my face.
But the energy felt heavier, denser like I was finally getting a grip on it instead of letting it slip through my fingers.
Progress. Small
I tried keeping the cursed energy inside, condensing it, but it kept slipping, leaking out like steam from a cracked pipe. So I changed tactics. Instead of forcing it in, I let it flow just beneath my skin, like a second layer of me.
I laid down, breathing slow, focusing not to trap it, but to let it hover, like mist clinging to skin.
Still, it drained me. Like holding tension in a muscle you never knew existed. What was I doing wrong?
I released it, let the energy fall back into me and that's when I noticed: it never stopped moving. Not once. It flowed constantly, like blood or breath.
So I stopped fighting it. I guided it instead. Keep it near my skin, but let it rotate slowly, clockwise. And for the first time, it held steady. Not just that, I felt sharper. Faster. Stronger.
Coated in cursed energy, I wasn't just holding power I was wearing it.
I tried to keep it going as long as I could. The key wasn't brute force, it was endurance. I wasn't using cursed energy, not for strength or speed. Just moving it. Circulating it. Letting it flow.
Because I wasn't burning it up, I was actually generating more than I spent. A slow build, like steady breathing.
Three hours. That's the best I could manage.
But it wasn't easy. Holding the energy felt like doing two things at once like balancing a cup of water while walking a tightrope. And when stray thoughts started creeping in, it became three things at once. Then four. Then too much.
It was like trying to meditate while juggling knives.
After holding it for three hours, I picked up a wooden sword and ran through some basic katas. I let my cursed energy wrap around the blade, steady and firm, just like I'd learned to keep it flowing over my body.
The first kata I practiced was actually one the old man taught me. All his katas, in his words, were meant to be simple. "If you can do them well, you can use the sword well," he'd said. "No need to twist your bones into knots just to fight."
So, I raised the wooden sword just above my head and swung it down fast.
I frowned.
There it was. A delay. I did it again, and again the same thing. My cursed energy wasn't keeping up with the speed of my swing. It lagged behind the blade, like it was still catching up even after the strike landed.
I remembered Yuji had this same problem early on, moving faster than his cursed energy could keep up. But that wasn't a reliable method and I definitely wasn't as talented as him.
"So this will take some time," I said to myself with a sigh, knowing I wasn't about to master this overnight.
And so, I did the katas slowly like watching a movie in slow motion. Three full runs. It took me three hours to finish them all.
My apartment was small, barely furnished. The wooden floor was scratched in places, a little uneven, but open enough to swing a blade. The only things in the room were a futon pushed up against one wall and a battered metal fan clicking softly in the corner. Sweat soaked into the planks beneath my feet as I practiced, the air stale with the scent of effort.
Altogether, I'd been at it for six hours between watching the movie at the theater, practicing cursed energy control, and grinding through the katas.
Now, the light from the window had dimmed to an orange haze. I was wiped, my arms heavy, my breath shallow. I could feel the drain in my core. My cursed energy was down to maybe a sixth of what I usually had. Just enough to stand. Barely.
And I hadn't gone grocery shopping today, so my fridge was completely empty.
Groaning, I pushed myself off the floor, grabbed my keys, and headed out to find something to eat.
There was a small corner store about ten minutes from my place. When I got there, I picked up some onions, tomatoes, eggs, a few big potatoes, and a block of cheese. Enough to throw together a decent meal or two.
I paid at the counter and stepped back outside.
The sun was just beginning to set, casting the sky in hues of orange and soft purple. City lights blinked to life one by one, painting the streets in electric warmth. The usual noise of people's cars, chatter, the rhythm of urban life was beginning to settle down. But under that quiet… something else stirred.
The curses were louder now.
But that was normal.
Humans have always feared the night. That's why they made lights in the first place torches, lanterns, streetlamps. Little suns to hold back the dark. But even with all that, the fear never really goes away. It just hides behind glass windows and locked doors.
That quiet dread? It leaks out. Turns into something real.
Negative energy fills the air after sundown, thick like fog. And from it, cursed beings are born. That's why the night is always louder not with traffic or chatter, but with whispers, howls, and footsteps that don't belong.
And tonight… it felt louder than usual.
But I ignored it. I've gotten used to doing that.
I passed a few familiar streets, store windows glowing under the streetlights. Neon signs buzzed quietly, flickering like they were tired too.
Eventually, I reached the shop everyone whispers about not because it's famous, but because of what happened there.
The owner was young, only 23. Ambitious. Too ambitious. He grew too fast, cutting corners on supply chains just to keep up. When the products failed, he kept switching sources, each one worse than the last. Debt stacked higher than he could breathe, and eventually… in a moment of weakness and desperation, he ended it. Took his own life.
Now, the place just sits there shuttered, hollow.
Still, I walked past it like I always do. And before long, I was home.
I made myself some food, collapsed into bed, and dozed off.
The next morning, I headed to work. On the way, I stabbed a cursed spirit that had been bothering me. It popped like a balloon. Recently, I found out that normal people can't see the weapons I make from curses. Makes sense they can't see the curses either. But I bet a sorcerer could.
I got to work and cleaned up, like always. And like always, the old man stared at me the entire time. When I finished, he handed me the wooden sword he keeps in the dojo and told me to do the katas. So I did. And at the end, we sparred.
I faced him and slowly stepped in. He mirrored me.
He saw I was nervous.
He struck first. I blocked it and tried to go on the offense, thrusting forward. He sidestepped and cracked my shin with a counter, sending me tumbling to the floor. When I opened my eyes, the tip of his wooden sword was pointed at my face.
"Get up. We'll do it again."
So I got up, and we did it again. And again. Until the first five students trickled into the dojo.
I took that as my cue to leave.
Afterward, I went out to buy groceries again. I'd only bought enough yesterday for one meal.
I walked past the same store from yesterday and grabbed my groceries.
On the way back, I passed it again… but this time, I stopped.
Something felt off.
There was curse energy coming from inside, stronger than what I usually sense from the small fry. If I had to guess, this one was around grade 2. That was enough to get people hurt. Or worse.
I turned, ready to keep walking. I really did. But I hesitated.
Damn it.
If there's a curse in there, and it's grade 2, it's only a matter of time before it starts attacking people. I clenched my jaw. I really hate having this kind of heart.
With a sigh, I set my bag of groceries near the entrance and stepped inside.
Now… How did that barrier chant go again?
"Emerge from the darkness, blacker than darkness. Purify that which is impure."
The moment the words left my mouth, the sky dimmed unnaturally.
Thick, black fluid like tar seeped from the air and blanketed the area around the store. It clung to the walls, windows, even the sidewalk. The world outside vanished behind it, swallowed whole.
I could feel the barrier settle in, pressing faintly at the back of my mind. Like a sixth sense snapping into place.
Whatever was in here with me, I was locked in with it now.
I floated my hand near my chest, and the familiar dark void opened my soul's storage.
Reaching in, I pulled out the katana, leaving the dagger behind. The dagger didn't have the reach I needed for this. The katana would give me more space to move, more control over the fight.
It already pulsed with cursed energy faint but sharp. I could feel it. And I knew I could reinforce it even more with my own.
So I did. I wrapped the blade in my own cursed energy, compressing it tight to stop any leaks. No point wasting energy just letting it drip off the weapon. Efficiency was everything.
Once I was done reinforcing the katana, I turned my focus toward the source of the cursed energy.
On the way there, I activated the cursed energy rotation I'd been practicing yesterday. The technique wrapped around my body in a clockwise motion. I should really give it a name.
Let's see… Circle. Yeah, that fits.
I activated Circle again, cursed energy flowing smoothly along my skin like a current.
Then I moved in, toward the cursed spirit.
And when I saw it… It saw me too.
It was a large thing, tall, with limbs too long for its body and skin like stretched shadow. It had no face. No eyes. Just smooth emptiness where features should've been.
But what really threw me off… I was wearing a shirt. A uniform.
The same one from the store. Logo and all.
That made it worse, somehow. More real. More human.
Or what was left of one.
It lifted its arm, twitchy and unnatural, and then
A flash of orange.
It fired a concentrated beam of cursed energy straight at me.
Instinct took over.
I raised my sword just in time, the blade catching the blast as it reached me.
The cursed energy scattered on impact, bursting outward like light hitting a mirror, shards of orange ripping past me, but doing no damage.
Barely.
I concentrated cursed energy in my feet and dashed forward, the ground cracking beneath me from the burst of speed.
I slashed at the curse, fast and clean
But it caught the blade. Effortlessly.
My eyes widened. That shouldn't have been possible.
This sword wasn't just any weapon it was a cursed tool, born from a defeated spirit. Reinforced with my own cursed energy. Even most Grade 1 curses wouldn't be able to grab it barehanded without consequence.
Which could only mean one thing.
This thing has its own innate technique.
That was doing it.
a delay…
It was a delay in my cursed energy. I'd channeled it into the sword, but my control was still too slow. The cursed energy lagged behind the swing.
Just like Yuji.
He had the same issue when throwing punches. His cursed energy hit a moment after his fist, causing that double impact Divergent Fist.
But in my case… it was with a sword.
That meant I could do the same thing: turn a single slash into a double strike. One physical cut, and then, right behind it, the cursed energy's follow-up.
A Divergent Slash.
Unintentional at first… but now? I could use it on purpose.
Even with the delay, the cursed spirit's fingers were sliced clean off as I held my sword steady.
It didn't react immediately and didn't even seem to register the pain. But the blood said enough.
I jumped back, putting space between us. My heart was racing.
It worked.
So it seemed… his defense wasn't automatic.
He had to know an attack was coming to react in time.
That meant if I moved faster than he could process or masked the intent, his cursed technique wouldn't kick in.
He's strong, yeah. But he's not untouchable.
But what is it?
If I don't know what his technique is, I can't counter it. Can't predict it.
And that makes it almost impossible to deal with.
It's like fighting blind with a blade at your throat the whole time.
I need to analyze him more, watch how he reacts, find the cracks in his technique.
But to do that… I have to attack.
In different ways. Different angles. Different timing.
Make him show his hand.
One wrong move, and I'm done but it's the only way to learn what I'm dealing with.
I felt it cursed energy gathering again.
My eyes snapped to the curse. Right where its fingers had been severed… the energy pooled, swirling like smoke.
And then, the fingers regrew.
It flexed its new hand a few times, testing the grip cold and mechanical.
Then its head snapped toward me.
It raised its arm, gathered cursed energy just like before… and fired another beam.
But this time, I was ready.
I dodged to the side, cursed energy kicking off the pavement as I moved. I didn't stop, I kept running, circling around it, trying to observe from every angle.
I needed to understand how this thing worked. And for that, I had to stay alive long enough to watch it move.
I grabbed three rocks from the ground.
Two I charged with cursed energy. The third I left plain.
I threw them, one after the other.
The first rock, charged with energy, slowed midair as it got close to him like it was pushing through molasses.
The second rock, uncharged, did the same.
The third, another charged one, was hidden behind the second. It almost made it through.
But the curse caught it midair, like it had eyes it didn't need.
I repeated the process with variations in timing, angles, patterns. Same result every time.
He doesn't just react to attacks, he weakens them. Even if they're not aimed at him. As long as they enter his field of vision… they lose power.
Though weirdly, he doesn't even have eyes. Just a blank face.
Still, I'd bet anything… he's seeing me just fine.