How Legends are Made 5

Preface

To my commissioner: I noticed that you gave me money on Kofi twice, and both on a monthly cycle. I can't tell if this was an accident or not. Either way, please cancel one because as much as I'd love to take your money, I can't keep writing HLM chapters at this pace and maintain quality.

Thanks,

Fable

How Legends are Made 5

Maki Zenin

Panda was way better at sensing cursed energy than me. So when he slid back into a combat stance, I took cues from him and prepared myself. It wouldn’t be the first time the windows were wrong about something. It didn’t happen often, but it happened often enough that we’d been warned.

We were students, first years, so we got treated with kid gloves, as much as that was possible for sorcerers, anyway. When we got sent out to cleanse cursed spirits, it was only ever grade two or three, and those only from sites that had been thoroughly investigated. Even if the Zenin clan would rather forget I exist, the Jujutsu Association as a whole couldn’t afford to waste sorcerers.

So if rookies like us were dealing with anomalies, that meant it probably wasn’t a cursed spirit. Rogue sorcerers were a thing, and arguably even less predictable. It was just our luck. Our first mission without that laidback moron’s oversight and it was about to go belly up.

The rogue sorcerer landed in front of us, far enough away to give us time to react. He was big, easily a full head taller than me, just about eye-level with Panda. He had blood-red hair and golden-yellow eyes that reminded me of a raptor. Intense, and unusual. I avoided eye contact. Eye-based cursed techniques were stupid-rare, but he looked like he might have one.

Instead, I watched the shoulders. They were broad, made even broader by a thick, leather jacket. He was also muscular, the kind that saw actual use outside the weight room. I pegged him as a close quarters specialist of some kind. He was probably like me, with martial arts or cursed tools to supplement a cursed technique.

Then, smiling like a shark, he held up a hand in a jaunty wave. “Yo, how’s it going?”

“Hey there. You’re a new face,” Panda returned the greeting with the same, jovial energy. “I’m Panda. Yes, I am a panda named Panda.”

“Nice. Does that mean you shit your body weight everyday?”

“What? How would that even work?”

“Well, pandas eat bamboo only, right? All that fiber’s gotta go somewhere.”

“I’m not actually a panda!”

“Are you sure? You just said you were a panda,” he muttered, head tilted curiously. “You sure look like a panda.”

“It’s just convenient to tell people I’m a panda.”

“But then you’re lying. You’re a lying not-panda named Panda.”

“Heh, I guess I am.”

“Enough,” I said with an annoyed sigh. It looked like he and Panda were cut from the same cloth, which meant those two idiots could keep bickering forever. “Who the hell are you?”

He thumbed himself and stuck out his chest with a proud grin. “Yasunori Kaname, homeless sorcerer, at your service. Who’re you, grumpy?”

“Maki Zenin. Don’t sound proud to be homeless, dumbass.”

“I mean, I used to have a home, lived above a mechanic’s garage, but some yakuza showed up and killed the old man. Then, there was a cursed spirit and I killed it. That was a month ago.”

I looked at Panda. The story sounded familiar. “Where was this?”

“Kabukicho? There’s an old-school Japanese sweets shop next door, has a big tanuki on the sign, melon-balls and all.”

“Kabukicho, huh… Hey, Maki, that sounds like the mission Toge went on,” Panda said. “Think he’s the ‘Red Fucker’ the gangs were talking about?”

The rogue sorcerer crossed his arms over his chest like a petulant child. It looked patently ridiculous on a man his size. “Oi! Who’re you calling Red Fucker?”

“That’s just what your neighbors called you when some of our guys asked around about the guy who lived at the mechanic shop.”

“I deserve a better name than that. At least have the decency to call me the Crimson Fucker.”

“How is that different?”

“Crimson Fucker is catchy. It’s got class. It’s the perfect blend of edgy and petty. Besides, it would be an honor to share the same title as the No-Life King.”

“What are you talking about? Maki, what’s he talking about?” Panda asked me.

“How the fuck should I know?” I growled. This guy sounded like a moron. I was probably losing brain cells just listening to him. Was that his cursed technique?

Kaname, the Red Fucker, looked genuinely aghast. “You don’t know the–How about the Bird of Hermes?”

“No.”

“Lord of Darkness?”

“Sounds stupid and edgy.”

“Ultimate Monster.”

“Touch grass, you shitty otaku.”

“Ugh, just my luck, a pair of filthy casuals,” he lamented. He recovered quickly. “So anyway, a friend of yours found that mess, huh? Guess I should apologize for that, even if it wasn’t really my fault.”

Panda shrugged with an easygoing smile. “Eh, don’t stress about it. Kusakabe-san pieced together most of what happened. You’re probably not in too much trouble. Were you the guy who left the mosquito coil for that old guy?”

“Sato-san, his name was Sato-san. And yeah, he took me in when my mom died. Deserved a hell of a lot better than I could give him, but I didn’t have any burial incense lying around, y’know?”

“You’re a pretty good dude, huh?”

He gave us a wan smile that looked a lot more genuine than anything so far. “I don’t know about that. I do like to think I’ll pay my debts, though.”

“Why’d you run?” I asked. “You could have stuck around to explain to headquarters.”

“Would you believe me if I said I didn’t know there was a headquarters?”

“You’re kidding.”

“I awakened as a sorcerer when the cursed spirit came out of Sato-san’s grudge or whatever. I’m still not clear about what exactly caused it, to be honest.”

“You exorcised a spirit right after being able to see them? That’s pretty impressive,” Panda nodded. 

“Pretty much. I’ve been wandering since then, learning more about my powers, figuring out what they’re called in the first place, that sort of thing. I only learned recently that there’s a school I’m supposed to be attending.”

“S-School? You’re my size, man. You look like you’re old enough to teach there.”

“I’m just big, alright?” he grumbled. “I’m fifteen.”

“Bullshit,” I said flatly. He looked like a pro wrestler, or maybe a yakuza. “No way in hell you’re my age.”

“I’m serious!”

“Fine, whatever. Come on, Kaname. Let’s get you to the school. Sensei can figure out what to do with you.”

“Awesome, that works out nicely. Thanks, Stabby Glasses.”

“Who the fuck are you calling Stabby Glasses?”

“Well, you have a naginata and wear glasses. ‘Zenin-san’ sounds way too formal and ‘Maki-chan’ sounds way too familiar. So, Stabby Glasses it is.”

“Like hell it is, Red Fucker!”

Panda nodded with a sagely smile. “That makes perfect sense to me.”

“It doesn’t!”

I let out an exasperated sigh. There was no helping it. I just had to live with the fact that we’d be getting a new student, and one who got along annoyingly well with Panda.

Still, it could be worse. The association was always happy to take in another sorcerer. At least he didn’t seem as timid as Yuta had been when he arrived.

X

Yasunori Kaname

Tokyo Metropolitan Curse Technical College, though no one called it that, was one of two in the nation. The other was in Kyoto, the motherland of jujutsu. Both schools masqueraded as large, Buddhist temple complexes to the outside world. More than just a high school, they were also the nexus of jujutsu sorcerer activity across Japan.

The schools gathered and distributed information, provided shelter for wandering sorcerers, assigned missions and grades, passed regulations, and mediated disputes between sorcerers. This meant that the principals played hybrid roles. They were educators, mediators, military dispatch officers, and more as the situation required.

Which was good, because had they only been schools, the temples would have felt like giant wastes of space. There were only five students in the Tokyo branch, and I was including myself. The others, Toge Inumaki, Maki Zenin, Yuta Okkotsu, and Panda, were all just finishing up their first years.

I was mildly surprised when I found that out. Apparently, Kinji and Kirara had already left the school. They were probably out cracking heads and establishing an underground fight club. That sounded interesting. If this didn’t work out, I decided I wouldn’t mind joining them for a bit.

Currently, I was seated in a gloomy, dimly lit room. In front of me was Masamichi Yaga, the principal of Tokyo Jujutsu High and Panda’s creator. He was a tall, middle-aged man in his forties, with spiky, brown hair and a pair of angular sunglasses he wore even here. He sat across from me with a quiet intensity that reminded me of Sato-san a bit.

“So, I heard you get along with Panda. That’s good, he’s a good judge of character,” he began.

“Yeah, Panda’s cool. He’s a real funny guy,” I shrugged.

“Good, kids should get along with each other. So, why do you want to attend Jujutsu High?”

“Ah… You want the honest answer?”

“That’s how these interviews are supposed to work, yes.”

“On the way over, Stabby said we get dorms, and our own rooms. I’m kinda homeless right now, see?”

“Goddamn, kid. Seriously? That’s your reason for jumping into a life of bloodshed?”

I looked at him with a bewildered frown. “What do you mean? Aren’t I already in this life?”

“You’ve got options. Being a sorcerer… It ain’t an easy life. Honestly? If I had a brat of my own, this wouldn’t be the life I’d want for them, either.”

“Mom was a prostitute. I got kicked out of every school I’ve ever attended because wannabe tough guys kept picking fights with me and my mean mug scares the piss out of the other students. I’m broke and homeless. My options are living as a sorcerer or joining the yakuza.”

“Heh, the yakuza might be better,” the principal said with a rueful chuckle.

“Aren’t you supposed to be an educator? You sure you’re supposed to be telling me that?”

“Probably not, but this life? It’s rough, kid.”

“If I change my answer to something more selfless, would that help?”

“At this point? Of course not. Besides, the altruistic types tend to be pretty fucked up, too. No one’s completely selfless,” he said, probably thinking about his wayward student.

Masamichi Yaga had the distinct privilege of having trained two of the four special grade sorcerers: Satoru Gojo and Suguru Geto. Unfortunately, he also had the distinction of seeing one of those students turn his back on jujutsu society. 

“You’ve got a point there,” I chuckled with him. “Everyone’s at least a little selfish. It’s a lot more honest than the saintly act.”

“So, what will you do with all that power? I can feel you. We’ll have to run a few tests, but you’ve got a lot of cursed energy wafting off you.”

“I wish I could give you some noble dream, but I don’t have one. I’ll do as I please, whatever I feel is right. I’ll just have to figure it out as I go along.”

“I can already tell, you’re going to be a troublesome student,” he sighed. He handed me a notebook. “Fine, welcome to Tokyo Jujutsu High. I’ll have someone show you the dorms. For now, read that. Learn it. It’s the memorandum that governs jujutsu society as a whole.”

“Thanks, Yaga-san. I appreciate it. Anything I should know?”

“Dinner’s at six-thirty. Ask Panda for the rest.”

X

Dinner was, thankfully, not rabbit food. Despite technically living in a Buddhist temple, they served normal grub. Tonight, we had rice, pork and green onion gyoza, pickled daikon, and a bowl of miso soup. It was nice, a classic Japanese comfort food. Here, I got to meet the rest of the student body, all four of them.

Panda was Panda. Maki was as grumpy as ever. Toge, a short, slim boy with strange markings on his cheeks, offered me a quiet nod before going back to his food.

“This is Toge,” Panda said. “He doesn’t talk much because he is a cursed speech user. He only communicates using the names of rice ball ingredients, but he’s a really nice guy.”

“Sounds rough, dude,” I said sympathetically. “If you want, get me a glossary of what all those mean. I’ll try to learn them quickly.”

“Salmon,” Toge said, nodding. That was one word I could understand, then.

Then, there was Yuta Okkotsu. He didn’t look like a special grade sorcerer. I wasn’t sure what one was supposed to look like, but he didn’t fit the image of a strong guy.

He was tall for a Japanese teen, but he was also quite slim, with droopy eyes that made me think he didn’t get enough sleep. Had I not known that he had Rika Orimoto inside of him, I would never have guessed he was so dangerous.

More than that, he had a nervous air about him. He wasn’t skittish exactly, but it was obvious that he hadn’t quite come into his own yet. He was a far cry from the young man who’d kill Kenjaku and give Sukuna a run for his money. Seeing him like this, it really put into perspective how much a man could change in a single year.

“I-Is there something on my face?” he asked nervously.

“Hmm? No, sorry. You just reminded me of something, that’s all,” I said with what I hoped was a friendly smile. “You’re a lot more normal than I expected.”

“Sorry to disappoint you.”

“Nah, man, that’s a good thing. I heard you were really strong and I figured you’d be this big, intimidating guy.”

“You’re the one who looks intimidating,” Panda chuckled. He wiggled his chopsticks at me and I found myself fascinated by his hands. I hadn’t realized how strange they looked. “Have they graded you yet?”

“Ah, not yet. The principal said they’d do that tomorrow morning. How does that work anyway? What are they grading me on?”

“A few things. They look at the amount of cursed energy you have, your cursed technique, experience and mission record, and any extenuating circumstances.”

“I don’t have a mission record so that’s easy enough.”

“Yeah, but you can get a high rating even when you’re completely new, like Yuta here. He’s got a ton of cursed energy like you. And Rika, she probably bumped his grade a bit.”

I let out a low whistle. I picked up my bowl of soup and drank from it directly. It was good, perfectly mild with that warm, soothing feel. “Sounds impressive. Who’s Rika?”

“Rika-chan is a spirit who is bound to me,” Yuta explained with an uneasy smile. “She’s very powerful and fights to protect me, but I’m not very good at controlling her.”

“That’s pretty cool. That means you’ve got someone watching your back no matter what.”

“I guess so. D-Do you have a cursed technique, Kaname-san?”

“Yasu, please. And yeah. I can control blood. I have a few more tricks, but mostly that.”

“Blood manipulation? Maki-san, didn’t you say it was the inherited technique of a major clan?”

“Yeah, it’s what those stuck up Kamo guys use,” Maki said, eyeing me suspiciously. “You sure your surname is Kaname?”

“Yup. That was mom’s name. She was a prostitute though, so I have no idea who my dad was.”

“Well, shit. Things are going to get noisy around here.”

“Sorry for the hassle, Stabby Glasses.”

“Call me Maki or I’ll really stab you,” she growled as she jabbed her chopsticks in my direction. 

“How scary,” I laughed at the prickly girl. “So… Can I ask you guys something awkward?”

“Shoot.”

“Do we get paid? And when?”

“Heh, you weren’t lying about being homeless, huh?”

“I need to go buy some essentials. I was living out of a computer cafe ‘til I found you two.”

Panda chuckled as he stuffed four gyoza in his mouth at once. “That’s hilarious. Let’s hope you get a high grade, then. You’ll be able to take missions for money.”

“How are you eating, anyway? Shouldn’t you be a vegan? I figured you’d be munching on bamboo shoots.”

“Disgusting. I hate bamboo. Actually, I’m not a real panda. I’m a cursed corpse, a type of doll filled with cursed energy. Principal Yaga is my dad.”

“Okay, I figured you weren’t normal, but that just raises the same question. How are you eating at all? If your body’s a doll, then it shouldn’t be able to eat food, right?”

“Food gets converted into cursed energy to fuel me. Neat, huh? I don’t even have to piss or shit,” he said happily. “Humans are so inconvenient in comparison.”

“Don’t talk about shitting at the dinner table,” Maki scolded.

X

Masamichi Yaga

The next morning, I stood next to Gojo as our newest student sat in a ritual circle. The red-haired boy looked calm, unfazed by the seals and talismans that surrounded him. If anything, he’d been quite curious, asking about the meanings of each character and their functions in the ritual.

The simple truth was that sensors were rare. Skilled sorcerers eventually developed a knack for the basics, but gauging the quantity of cursed energy in a subject with any detail was a complicated process. This ritual circle was supposed to help with that. It gave us a good estimate of how much energy he had, which would go towards assigning him a grade.

Gojo held a phone aimed towards the boy. The presence of a non-Kamo blood manipulator had stirred quite the hornet’s nest in Kyoto. Even those old fogeys had decided to bear with the indignities of modern technology to see this for themselves.

“Shoko, results?” I asked.

Shoko Ieri, she was one of my former students and the school’s nurse. She had the distinction of being one of the few sorcerers who could use reversed cursed technique, not just on herself, but on others while maintaining the same efficiency. It made her invaluable to the jujutsu community.

If I was being honest, she was probably the most well-adjusted of my former students. She graduated, stepped out of a combat role, and even went to medical school to supplement her jujutsu with conventional biology. A nonchalant, laidback type who lived life at her own pace. 

“No clue,” she said. She examined the array for mistakes. Finding none, she shrugged and took out a cigarette. That was her worst habit, something she retained from her student days. “Results are indeterminate. Kaname-kun has a lot of cursed energy.”

“Yes, we know that. Anything specific you can tell us?”

“Ever been to the bottom of the ocean? Because I haven’t. No one has. People can tell you how deep it is, but that’s just an educated guess in the end. Except with him, I can’t even make a guess. It’s like the kid’s an endless font of cursed energy.”

“No one can have an infinite well of cursed energy. If they did, they’d die immediately, or get turned into a curse.”

“Well, guess we’re learning something new today. His body’s normal. In perfect shape, actually. If the amount of cursed energy is going to turn him into a curse, it would have happened already.” She poked the boy’s cheek. “You’re a weird one, a real freak of nature.”

“Thanks, doc. I guess I’m a very special cookie,” he said with a laugh. I liked him so far; he also didn’t take things too seriously. I could only hope he kept the good cheer as he faced more curses. 

“Hah, that’s awesome,” Satoru said with a bark of laughter. “Say, can we give him a special grade? He’s got even more than me or Yuta, right? That definitely counts, especially if he has the Kamo clan technique.”

“Perhaps,” came a voice from Gojo’s phone. Gojo’s grandfather, if I remembered right. “Blood manipulation is versatile, but it alone does not merit a special grade.”

“He lacks experience, both with his cursed technique and in combat,” said the Zenin head.

He did, but the others were doing their best to ensure that the Kamo clan could not claim a special grade prodigy, and in a way the Kamo head couldn’t overtly object to. The Satoru clan had that exclusive privilege and they were loath to acknowledge another. The Zenin head naturally refused to be the only member of the Big Three without a special grade sorcerer.

I suppressed a tired sigh. It was, like with most things around here, a matter of politics. Yasunori hadn’t even changed his name and he was already being sucked into their games. I pitied him, but there wasn’t a whole lot I could do about it.

“How about we confirm that he has the inherited technique of the Kamo first?” I said. “Yasunori, you’re pretty strong to have survived on your own, but do you have blood manipulation? It’s a pretty big deal in jujutsu society.”

He looked at me with a careless shrug. Then, he bit his thumb and a drop of blood floated into the air. It formed a circle, then a star, and then a heart. “Yeah, I’ve gotten pretty good at controlling my own blood.”

“Your parents, boy,” the Kamo head said. “Who were they?”

“Not a Kamo… probably… Mom definitely wasn’t. She was a prostitute in Kabukicho. Dad, I’ve got no idea. She didn’t really talk about him.”

“And where is your mother? We have questions for her.”

“Dead. She passed away a while back. It’s why I was living in that mechanic shop with Sato-san, y’know.”

“Could she have been the anomaly?” Shoko mused aloud. “Someone from the Kamo clan visited a prostitute. That’s not unbelievable. Did she possess a latent trait that mixed with the Kamo’s to form a seemingly bottomless well of cursed energy?”

“I mean, maybe? But what do I know? And before you ask, doc, you can’t examine her body, either. She got cremated.”

“That’s a pity. You’re really interesting. How do you feel about vivisections?”

“I feel like there is an obvious right answer here,” he said dryly. “Am I safe to sleep in my dorm? Should I be worried about drugs in my food?”

“Maybe, that depends on my mood so be a good boy, okay?” Shoko replied with a lazy smirk.

“Yikes, even the nurse is terrifying around here.”

I coughed for their attention. “In any case, given Yasunori’s reserves and inherited technique, I propose we give him a semi-grade one classification for now. We can review this once he has a few missions under his belt.”

The old fogeys went back and forth for a bit. The Kamo head, of course, objected. He wanted the special grade designation as a matter of pride. He also insisted that Yasunori should be transferred to Kyoto. Whether he planned to have him adopted into his clan or wed to a cousin, I had no idea.

Truthfully, that wasn’t a terrible outcome. Whatever else could be said about his motives, there was no question that the Kamo clan were the experts on blood manipulation. If anyone could teach Yasunori to master his inherited technique, it was them.

Besides, clan folks had a bit more leeway when it came to missions. Having that support network while he was still growing could be the difference between life and death.

To my surprise, Yasunori rejected an immediate transfer. He said he was in it for living expenses, so I’d wondered if he’d leap at the chance to join a wealthy clan.

“Nah, that ain’t me, gramps,” he said, rubbing the back of his head apologetically. “Look, I grew up a punk kid. I got into fights, begged off school, and ran around exorcising spirits on my own. The noble lifestyle isn’t for me.”

“We can teach you, boy. We can refine what you have. The natural talents you have been blessed with must be nurtured,” the Kamo elder said. “Who else can give you the wisdom you require?”

“I don’t think I require wisdom at all. Call it the folly of youth if you want, but I’ll keep at it on my own. The way I see it? If no one tells me something is impossible, I might just go ahead and do it. That’s how all techniques start, right? A bit of luck and elbow grease?”

“What an arrogant child. So be it. You will learn of your heritage in time.”

“I appreciate your consideration, old timer.”

And that was that. The Kamo had chosen to take a more lenient approach for the moment. More than anything, they were giving him the rope to hang himself. They probably figured that he’d hit a roadblock sooner rather than later. And when he did, the clan would have the answers, and the leverage.

I shook my head. It wasn’t truly my place to get involved. The clans had a great deal of independence, especially when it came to internal affairs. And at this point, there was no question that Yasunori was a Kamo bastard.

I glanced to my right and found Gojo smirking. He had his blindfold on, but I just knew the little shit had seen something else with those fancy eyes of his. What he saw, and what he’d do about it, remained to be seen. As always, my most powerful student remained the biggest wildcard.

Author’s Note

Yasu seems like he’d be a fan of Hellsing Ultimate Abridged. No reason, he just gave me that vibe.

Welp, pretty much what everyone expected. Yasu is a Kamo bastard, or so they think. It’s not an unreasonable assumption. I’m not sure what I’ll do with this plot thread, but it felt like a logical progression.

Gojo knows something’s not quite right. Then again, I’m not sure what exactly he can see with Six Eyes. We’ll see…

Animal Fact: Swallowtail butterflies have tails. They're those long, spindly bits on their rear wings that trail behind them as they fly. This is thought to serve as a decoy, not unlike a lizard's tail. 

To support this, scientists gathered 138 sail swallowtail butterflies. Among the gathered sample, 65 (47%) of them had damaged wings. Taking these butterflies with at least one damaged wing gave them a sample size of 130 rear wings. 82% of them had damaged tails.

To test this further, the team caught a bunch of great tits (fantastic songbird name), and showed them fake butterflies made of real butterfly wings glued to cardboard bodies. The birds struck the butterflies 59 times. 43 (73%) were aimed at the rear wings.

They also found that the tail is the weakest part of the wing, with the most fragile veins. This means that it's the part that's most likely to break off in a bird's beak, giving the butterfly the chance to get away.