Chapter Text
On a fair day in August, a tall monk stood outside a subway entrance in Kyoto. He had black hair that fell to his mid-back with the uppermost part of it tied up except for a lock that draped over his left eye, wore two dark blue stones decorating his stretched earlobes, and had dressed himself in the traditional black garb. His face was handsome and masculine, his features pointed like a cat’s, and overall this assisted him in gaining the attention of passersby as he sought to distribute the contents of a pouch of blue fliers held to his chest. A strangely dressed young man, alone, handing out fliers; this is how most humans surveyed would have described him.
“Getooooooo! How much longer are we going to be here?”
A cursed spirit close in height to the monk heaved a heavy sigh beside him, the spirit himself accompanied by two other curses. All of these cursed spirits were invisible to the onlookers, or their bizarre appearances would have garnered odd looks. The spirit that had spoken, Mahito, looked similarly to a human at first glance, though one who might have been assumed to have undergone extensive surgery or would otherwise have been perceived as having an extremely unusual sense of fashion. A patchwork of stitches covered his face and arms with his long gray hair arbitrarily separated into three loose sections each tied off at the ends, and his choice to wear a black poncho that was coming apart at the seams would have been cause for speculation had he been human.
“For once I agree with this one,” grumbled a second curse, “What would we need any more of these pathetic humans for, Geto?”
The second curse was the shortest of the group, sharply contrasting the first in appearance in his obviously inhuman looks. From the massive, singular eye that squinted in the center of his blue face, to the simmering volcanic structure that formed the top of his head, the cursed spirit, Jogo, bore a greater resemblance to monsters from children’s cartoons than to any member of humanity.
“Please, be patient,” chided the monk in a silken voice. Without taking his narrow eyes off of the humans passing in front of them, the monk, Geto, solicited the assistance of the largest curse among them. “Hanami, would you talk some sense into these two? You’re always so reliable.”
«Marking these humans is required for our ultimate goal.»
The inhuman voice rattled in the consciousnesses of the other two curses as well as Geto’s own, the sound of it alien and unsettling. Hanami, a spirit formed from humans’ own self-loathing with respect to their species’ impact on the environment, looked consequently to be a humanoid plant. At 220 centimeters tall, the curse towered over the others. Its body from the neck down was not dissimilar in basic structure from a human man’s, though its skin was a strange, clay-white color lined with black markings and one of its arms was hidden under a bundle of wrappings. From the neck up, it ceased completely to resemble humanity. Its face was lipless, exposing at all times the locked, stone-white teeth, and in place of eyes, two branches jutted out, pointing skyward.
«Please be patient, you two.»
The monk was handing out a flier to a blushing female high school student, and waited for the girl to be out of earshot before he addressed the curses again.
“Thank you, Hanami,” said Geto, “I only wish your forward-looking attitude would rub off on them.”
Mahito puffed out his cheeks and pouted while Jogo grunted and squinted his large eye. An older man then approached them all, but had only wanted to express his respect to the monk and to commiserate about the youth’s disinterest in religion. He left without taking a flier, tripping over Jogo’s foot as he went, and Geto had to proactively moderate the shorter curse’s temper to prevent him from lighting the old man on fire.
“Let Mahito and I split off and have some fun…” Jogo suggested casually. “Surely we’re not all needed here?”
Geto shook his head, a chastising smile on his tan lips. “Have you forgotten we’re all to meet those two shortly? Not that they would pose us much trouble, but I’d like for you all to get familiar with Nanako and Mimiko’s faces. And, if we encounter any jujutsu sorcerers on the street, you three can handle them while I continue with the meeting.”
“Pah!” complained the blue spirit, “So long as it isn’t Satoru Gojo we’re running into, there would be no need for all three of us just for that, and even then—”
“If we encountered Satoru Gojo, then it would be best to make a tactical retreat. I would prefer not to risk any of you getting exorcised before next month,” answered Geto, receiving a disapproving grumble in return.
The monk looked to the flier in his hand, then passively scanned the faces of the commuters exiting the subway station. There was a sweaty man in a suit talking loudly to his subordinate, a girl who was so engrossed in her texting that she hadn’t noticed she had become an obstacle to everyone behind her, a young man scowling at every woman he passed without reason, and hundreds of other nondescript faces that passed the monk without a glance. ‘Even though I told them to be patient,’ thought Geto, keeping a placid smile on his lips, ‘Whether it’s the influence of this body or just this disdain for useless people… I really hate these damned human monkeys.’
“Excuse me?”
A cheerful voice drew Geto from his brooding. Before him was a tall young woman with short hair, perhaps a tourist, wearing a sundress and a bright smile. Her accent suggested she was foreign-born, and she looked hesitant, not quite sure whether her greeting might be considered an intrusion.
“Can I help you, miss? Would you like a flier?”
“Oh, sorry! Actually,” she said sheepishly, looking directly at Jogo, “I had just wanted to say that your costume is really impressive.”
Geto’s polite smile changed to one of keen interest, and he was only half-aware of Mahito whispering “Can she see us?” to Hanami behind him.
“Miss, did you mean my friend just here?” asked the monk, clapping a hand to Jogo’s shoulder as the curse bristled with irritation.
“Yes, I saw him from across the street, so— Oh, but, all of your costumes are nice, really!” The young lady was quick to clarify, concerned that she had offended Geto and his other companions by exclusively addressing Jogo. “Those branches must have been difficult to attach and the wrappings on your shoulder look great,” she said with a look towards Hanami before shifting her attention to Mahito, “And your stitching is really lifelike. Are you all part of a cosplay group or something?”
“This human—! I ought to—”
Jogo’s head began to bubble with lava, deeply affronted by the ignorance of the human before him, but Geto’s hand squeezed tighter on his shoulder to restrain him and the visual effect only enhanced how impressed the young lady was.
“That’s very kind of you, but we’re actually just advertising a service. Our temple offers free blessings, but it’s small and a little ways outside of the city, so it can be difficult and expensive to get proper advertising. It was suggested that having some of our members dress up as spirits might attract attention even in a city as big as Kyoto, but perhaps we’ve leaned too much into gimmicks.”
Geto handed the girl a flier, the principal title reading Complimentary Blessings & Exorcisms with a brief description, the address of a temple, and a small blurb at the bottom listing The Star Group as the event’s sponsor. The monk noted how the girl’s gaze flicked back twice to the gray-haired curse as she read. Mahito’s eyes shone with intense excitement, the cause of which might be easily misinterpreted by an ignorant human girl, and she grew shier under its focus. Intrigued, Geto decided to make use of the girl’s apparent preference. He introduced himself as Suguru Geto before introducing the other curses, lending particular emphasis to Mahito’s name.
“If you’re not too put off, please come to our event. My friends and I,” said Geto with a nod to Mahito, “Would enjoy the chance to speak with you again, Miss…?”
The young lady flushed lightly at the monk’s allusion to the pale, stitched spirit. She folded the flier and tucked it away in her purse as she answered. “Y/N— Y/N L/N,” she said, laughing self-deprecatingly, “Sorry, I guess I’m still not used to everyone using surnames here.”
“It’s quite alright, Miss L/N,” the monk assured.
Giving an excuse that she was late for a tour, the girl gave a friendly farewell before departing, leaving Geto once more alone with the cursed spirits.
“Lousy little worm!” shouted Jogo, fuming, “A costume! A special grade curse, and she has the nerve to say I’m wearing a costume!”
“Calm down, Jogo…” Geto gave the shorter curse’s shoulder a final squeeze before letting go. “We should be grateful for our good fortune. If she can already see curses, that girl has more potential than the other humans we’ve met today. That’s what you were thinking as well, weren’t you, Mahito? Or perhaps you only thought she would make a decent experiment for your Idle Transfiguration… You know that would be a waste, don’t you?”
The gray-haired spirit laughed, scratching the back of his head guiltily. “I guess I’ve been caught,” he said, “You only want me to play with the ones with no potential, but they keep dying so easily that I thought this one might be better. And this one… there was something unusual, so I guess I got a little excited.”
“Oh?” asked Geto.
“I can’t really explain it yet…” Mahito pinched his chin between his thumb and forefinger, his mismatched eyes scouting through the passing crowds. “You noticed too, didn’t you?” Mahito glanced from Hanami to Jogo. “For a second she smelled different, almost like a curse, but not at the same time… And her soul was a little weird too.”
«I do not agree. This human smelled of soil and melon fruit to me.»
“How interesting… And you, Jogo? What did you think?” asked the monk.
The one-eyed curse was reluctant to speak, and kept his gruff reply short. “That one is as disgusting as any other human, but… to me, her scent was like a coal fire.”
Geto’s small eyes widened, a wicked, sharply curving smile on his face as his fingers squeezed and crumpled the remaining fliers in his hand, and unable to contain himself, his body began to shake with laughter. He did not elucidate the curses as to the source of his entertainment and calmed himself outwardly, but internally his spirit was exultant, remaining so as their group proceeded to their next engagement. All the while, he was thinking one singular thought; ‘Fate truly has blessed my cause!’