Chương 2: Exorcist.
Several years have passed since I reincarnated into this world.
During my early years, I spent my time in foster care until I finally reached the legal age to leave the system that sheltered me. Every time someone came with the intention of adopting me, I would subtly concentrate the aura of all my curses and push it toward them. That was enough to scare them off and make them reconsider.
One of the things I discovered is that I have the same number of curses that Geto had before his battle against Yuta, which is, without a doubt, a significant amount.
The second thing I noticed is that, with my Curse Manipulation technique, I possess Toji Fushiguro's curse: the inventory curse. Within it, I have the Split Soul Katana, the Playful Cloud, and a wide variety of weapons. However, the most important one is the Inverted Celestial Halberd. Satoru Gojo was supposed to have destroyed it after Toji's death, but, surprisingly, it is also in my inventory, albeit in the state it was left in after Gojo shattered it during his first Purple against Toji.
You might be wondering how I've managed to sustain myself since reincarnating into this world.
The answer is simple.
In my previous world, I was passionate about drawing, a truly skilled artist. I could replicate manga panels without any trouble, although it took me some time. Since then, here in this world, I started plagiarizing the stories of my past life.
Jujutsu Kaisen.
I rewrote it as a novel and also drew it as a manga. Its initial release didn't draw much attention, as expected. Many people saw the first season as something ordinary: a basic but intriguing power system and an extremely handsome albino. However, I was certain that with the Shibuya Incident, it would become a true hit.
Moreover, my version of Jujutsu Kaisen would be different. I would change things, like the Culling Game arc, turning it into a tournament instead of a battle royale that ultimately led nowhere. I'd explain the Heian Era in greater detail, providing context for Sukuna's story. Kenny would take Gojo's body after Yuta stole the victory from Takaba and copied his technique, among other changes.
I sighed as I left my apartment, dressed in winter clothes and a beanie since it was snowing. While waiting at the bus stop, I held my bag tightly.
Across the street, where cars passed by, there was another stop. At it, a woman dressed entirely in black was sitting on a bench.
As the day seemed to unfold normally, I once again became lost in my thoughts.
During my time here, I've noticed something troubling: I've been losing my memory. In the first five years of my reincarnation, I lost almost all recollection of the future events in Chainsaw Man.
It's been ten years now, and honestly, I don't know what to make of this world.
However, I have a goal. I want to create a place where demons, hybrids, and humans can coexist.
I know it sounds crazy, but I have the power to make it happen, and, more importantly, I'm here before the main plot begins. Based on my calculations, Denji hasn't even been born yet, nor has Pochita been sent to Earth.
If I work hard, I think I can make something happen.
When I used to watch clips of Chainsaw Man, I couldn't help but notice how charismatic its characters were. Denji and Power were, without a doubt, my favorites. Power was really beautiful but also a total chaos. Denji, on the other hand, was simple and genuine, always managing to make me smile.
And Makima… oh, Makima. Sexy, dangerous, and incredibly unpredictable. I wouldn't want to cross paths with that woman without knowing what might happen if I faced her one-on-one.
And then a question crossed my mind:
"But would you lose?".
"Nah I'd Win"
A smile crossed my face as I recalled that popular meme from my previous world. It was pretty funny if you ask me; I loved the version with Megumi's rabbit and Miwa's, the supposed goddess and "the strongest" in the Jujutsu world.
Ah, Lobotomy Kaisen, the best of the best.
In the middle of my rambling, a cold sensation ran down my spine, as if eyes were piercing me from the shadows. I looked ahead, toward the bus stop across the street, and there she was: the woman dressed in black with casual pants. Her eyes were fixed on me intensely, and then I noticed it.
Ringed eyes of an unnatural color, accompanied by a faint smile filled with curiosity.
Her hair was loose, and a discreet necklace adorned her neck, giving her an air that, in any other context, I would have found attractive.
'Makima?'
'Why is she looking at me like that?'
'She seems... curious.'
Instinctively, I started checking myself, searching for any clue as to what might have caught her attention. And I understood immediately.
A small part of the oppressive aura from my curses was leaking out.
'Damn.'
I cursed silently as I tried to control the aura emanating from my curses. This happened to me sometimes; if I disconnected mentally to reflect, even for a moment, I would start to lose control. It was a subtle slip but noticeable to someone sensitive to spiritual energies.
I needed more practice. While far from inexperienced, keeping cursed auras in check required constant focus.
Before I realized it, the bus arrived, and I had no choice but to board.
Already on my way to work, a notification on my phone caught my attention. It was an email.
From: Director of the xxxxxxx
Date: xxxxxx
Name: Yamamoto Matsushida
Subject: Request for exorcism from the spiritualist
Information:
At our school, student disappearances have been occurring recently. For months now, several students have disappeared without apparent reason, primarily women.
Public Safety intervened a few months ago, claiming that the demons responsible had been eliminated, but it turned out to be a lie. In the first two months, the targets of these disappearances were males. However, after a sudden increase in cases and a brief pause following Public Safety's intervention, the focus shifted: now the disappearances only affect females.
All these people, both male and female, had one thing in common: a connection with a boy of their age named Yoshida Itoshi.
I frowned as I read the email.
'Yoshida Itoshi? Why does that name sound so familiar?'
Whether they were friends, acquaintances, or even random people who approached Yoshida to ask him something, they would all disappear within a day to a maximum of five days after contact. These incidents earned Yoshida the nickname "The Cursed Boy."
As for Yoshida, not much is known. There is only a record of a very close female friend of his who disappeared a few months ago. The bond between them was so strong that many considered them a couple.
The school, currently closed, decided to contact me due to my "acclaimed reputation" as a spiritualist and the reviews on my exorcism page, which boasts the title of being the most effective.
The email continued...
------------------------------------------------------
We don't know if you're reliable, but of all the exorcism pages, yours seems the most viable.
We have come to you due to the incompetence of Public Safety and out of desperation. We beg you to help us. We will pay you accordingly depending on how well you perform the work. We have a budget of more than 10 million yen, as we are a top-tier school in Tokyo.
We will also cover any external damages, as we have heard that sometimes your exorcisms get out of control. Please, help us.
Sincerely, xxxxxxxxx.
With a sigh, I turned my gaze toward the window as I pondered whether or not to accept this job.
I had been working as a sort of exorcist for extra money without much effort. Using the powers of Suguru Geto, I started going from house to house in remote villages, absorbing demons that were also classified as curses. Some were weak, others extraordinarily strong.
Absorbing powerful demons wasn't always easy. If a demon relied on bodies to sustain its power and was weakened, I could consume it fairly easily. But if it was at full strength, I had to resort to traditional methods: defeat it before absorbing it.
For an entire year, I practiced this process. I created a website where I posted my simpler jobs, with flyers, photos, and videos. Although I didn't show the rituals in detail, I showcased successful results with client testimonials and photos of places I had exorcised.
This quickly made me popular, thanks to the low price I charged and my effectiveness, which outperformed Public Safety. They only intervened in severe cases affecting entire sectors and rarely in places where they wouldn't gain considerable profit or where circumstances didn't favor them. That's where I came in.
I was the salvation for the weak and desperate who had no other options. A light in the darkness.
However, the more popularity I gained, the more jobs came my way. And with them, more money, but also unwanted attention. Public Safety was aware of me, but they didn't intervene unless I got in their way.
This particular job, however, could change that.
The bus stopped in front of the publishing house. I got off lazily and walked slowly toward the entrance. I decided I would put off my decision until after talking to my editor, Shizumu Miya.
Entering with a smile, I found her just about to leave for lunch, and intercepting her, I started talking with her, convincing her about my second season and that I would send it to the big bosses.
4:00 PM.
After one of the longest conversations in the history of mankind, we agreed that I would take her to several dates, and then she would think about it.
Honestly, I think she wants to take advantage of me, but at least it's something.
A long sigh escaped my mouth.
'Women can be exhausting.'
My attention shifted to my dark sweater under my coat, and a necklace I had obtained some time ago gleamed with an unusual flash.
'It's beautiful.'
It was a necklace that resembled a completely white steering wheel, with black splotches that came together in the middle, forming a unique black stain.
According to what the old woman who had given me this expensive necklace said, it was used in ancient times to seal a powerful "Yokai," whose appearance resembled that of an angel, and its presence was almost divine. According to her ancestors, it looked like an angel descended from the heavens to judge them, but its power was that of a demon.
She said that her ancestors fought against this beast when a mad member of the clan unleashed his madness upon them. This was because the clan had exiled him and his wife. His wife tragically died from an illness, and years later, when the man responsible for her death had a son, the madman returned. He claimed to have discovered a contract with a powerful demon, reciting the words "Furube yura yura."
The madman died after the demon he had contracted brutally killed him. He fought against the entire clan, leading to its near complete destruction. The clan of nearly 1,000 members was massacred until the very end. The clan fought to the death, and in the final moments, one of their remaining members, using a forbidden art, sacrificed their life to seal the demon in the pendant that their grandfather had given them.
As a result, the necklace acquired the durability of the demon, and even though the remaining members tried to destroy it, they couldn't even scratch it. So, it passed through generations until today.
The woman gave it to me, saying maybe I could defeat the demon with my powers. Besides, it wouldn't be useful to her because it couldn't be verified for its material, and if she wanted to sell it, she couldn't.
An incredible story, but since she was an elderly woman, I decided to take the reward in the form of generosity.
As I waited for the bus, I saw another email come through, and honestly, I was surprised by just one sentence that changed my doubt about the job they had asked me to do.
"Two more students have disappeared. The reward has been increased to 30 million yen.
Please, help us!"
A smile appeared on my face. It wasn't exactly what I was expecting, but it was fine.
I decided that the bus would take too long, so I took a taxi to my residence: a normal apartment, nothing luxurious. When I arrived, I changed clothes, putting on exactly the outfit of Suguru Geto. It consisted of a light-colored rakusu with plaid patterns, and beneath that, a yukata with black pants. As footwear, I wore tabi and zori. In the anime, the rakusu was depicted in gold with green plaid patterns, the yukata blue, the tabi white, and the platform zori brown with red straps.
With enough money in my pocket, getting custom clothes wasn't difficult anymore; it was all about the price.
I slowly descended the stairs of my apartment, putting on a white mask that covered my entire face, ensuring I wouldn't be recognized. By that time, the sun was setting. I called another taxi and headed to the school listed in the address. As I checked my phone, I noticed that the driver seemed somewhat frightened and nervous at seeing how I was dressed.
However, maintaining his professional attitude, he decided to speak to me.
"Excuse me, young man, are you going to a costume party, or perhaps a traditional dinner?"
Honestly, I couldn't tell if the young man, whose expression I couldn't see, was planning a massacre or simply attending a traditional gathering.
The question, although somewhat sudden, didn't bother me. I was a little surprised because most taxi drivers avoided speaking to me since my appearance intimidated them. But I decided to respond kindly.
"Oh, no, sir. I'm just going to a costume party. My family is somewhat traditional; they like to mix customs with modern things. A bit odd, but, well, it's my family."
My voice sounded warm and jovial, which helped relax the tension in the driver. This made the ride more pleasant.
Over the course of the ride, I noticed that in this world, taxi drivers weren't as chatty as in my home country. Honestly, I had a love-hate relationship with this. Sometimes a taxi driver with a good sense of humor could make the ride enjoyable, but here, unless you were a pretty girl, they wouldn't even look you in the face.
In my case, this driver only spoke to me to understand my intentions, nothing more.
When we arrived in front of the school, I was surprised to see that, indeed, it was a first-rate institution.
A man approached. He was Afro-Japanese, a clear mix due to his features. His skin and hair indicated his African heritage, though his facial features had Japanese touches. His afro hair was the most prominent, with a volume not commonly seen among Japanese people.
He was dressed in a business suit and glasses. Upon seeing me, he smiled and then came closer.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Exorcist. My name is Jamal. I hope your reputation is as good as they say, and that you're not just another scammer. If you are, it would be a great disappointment, and unfortunately, we'd have to eliminate you."
The man showed a feigned disappointed expression before letting me briefly see what seemed to be the handle of a gun.
With a smile, I released a small fraction of my aura, just enough to tighten the man's nerves.
"Relax. As long as I get paid properly, I won't be forced to massacre y'all."
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