How Legends are Made 6

How Legends are Made 6

Yasunori Kaname

“Kelp,” Toge said in greeting. He was frying a slice of ham and one egg in the communal kitchen. Next to him was a plate laden with two, toasted milk bread slices and a slice of sharp cheddar. There were several more ham and cheese sandwiches, neatly wrapped in paper.

“Kelp to you too, Toge,” I greeted back. “Are these for everyone, or do you like to prepare meals?”

“Egg yolk?” He slid one sandwich towards me, alongside a bottle of Tabasco hot sauce.

It took me a second to realize that he wasn’t asking about the literal egg in the pan. He’d gotten me a rice ball ingredients dictionary last night, but I was still working through it. Turned out, the guy used quite a few more words than just “salmon” and “tuna” when he wasn’t on missions.

If I remembered right, “egg yolk" expressed desire, either his or someone else’s. It usually meant “I want that,” or “Do you want that?” depending on how he phrased it.

“Do I want it?” I confirmed. So it was probably his turn to make breakfast for everyone.

“Salmon.”

“Ah, yeah, thanks. You like bread in the morning, huh?”

“Salmon.”

“Cool. Let me know if there’s a dorm chore chart I should know about. I don’t want anyone to think I’m a freeloader.”

I enjoyed a nice breakfast sandwich as the others slowly woke up. That was how I found out that Toge was actually pretty good at cooking. He wasn’t a pro chef, but his food was simple and tasty.

He had a preference for dishes involving bread, especially savory and spicy varieties, even for breakfast. It was a departure from traditional Japanese fare, which I hadn’t expected of him given he was a clan kid. I figured he’d be the type to insist on an ichiju-sansai each morning.

X

After breakfast, I met up with the one and only Gojo Satoru. He was a tall, lanky man in his late twenties with teal hair and a headband pulled down over his eyes.

He looked ridiculous. Had I not known better, I would have assumed he was a regular in pachinko bars and scalped Pokemon cards. Actually, I did know him better. He was a fan of Digimon, if I remembered right, probably collected cards just to get on his clan elders’ nerves.

“Yo, Kaname-kun~” the “honored one” said as he flounced around me like a buffoon. “Good morning! Are you ready for your first day of Jujutsu High?”

Obviously, there was nothing for it but to greet him with the same energy. I did a backflip and landed on my feet before screaming to the heavens, “Yosh! Ossu! Hai, sensei! Today, I take my first step towards greatness under your guidance!”

A sliding door slammed open. The ass end of a broom stabbed at my throat with unerring accuracy as Maki made her irritation known. “Would you two shut the fuck up?” 

She was fast, way faster than I was without reinforcing myself. The broom caught me straight on the Adam’s apple, making me gag. “Hrk! That hurt, you glasses-gorilla!”

“Glasses-gorilla? It’s Maki! I told you to stop making stupid nicknames for people!”

“I don’t listen to domestic abusers!”

“We’re not together!”

“You’re hitting me and we live together, dumbass!”

Gojo laughed like a kid on Christmas morning. “You know, he’s technically right.”

That only annoyed the prickly girl more. “You know what? Fuck it. I don’t care.”

But before she could hit me again, Gojo caught the broom on his finger. Or rather, on the air above his finger. It stopped there, forever inching forward yet unable to close that last sliver of distance.

“My students are so lively in the morning. Still, I can’t let you beat him up yet. Do that in the field.”

“Yet?” I protested.

“You’re sorcerers. You’ll get better. Now, come on, kiddies. We’ve got physical education in the morning.”

“Ah, so not an acquittal, but a stay of execution,” I nodded sagely. “Sensei is cruel indeed.”

We rounded up Panda, Toge, and Yuta before heading to the sports field. It was a bit strange that we had a whole, regulation-sized track field in the temple, but we did. What was weirder was that all this was for a student body of five.

My very first class at Hogwarts-but-murder was weirdly normal. Gojo had us running laps and pairing off to spar. He set Toge and Panda, Yuta and Maki together, leaving me as the odd one out.

“So, semi-grade one. Not bad, Yasu,” he hummed.

“Two steps shy of you and Yuta,” I noted. It wasn’t entirely unexpected, though getting the special grade nametag would have been nice for my ego.

“Eh, you’ll get there, probably as soon as you stop hiding whatever you’re hiding.”

“Me? Hiding?”

I couldn’t see his eyes through the blindfold, but I just knew he was judging me. “Yup. I don’t really care, but I think there’s more to you than you’re letting on. I’m not actually blind, y’know.”

I coughed awkwardly. Honestly, not telling him would only make him more insistent. An interested Gojo was an annoying Gojo. “Your fancy eyes, right. Well, I’m not hiding, not really. I’m just not sure how to bring it up, that’s all.”

“Kid, I’ve seen it all. Panda’s a corpse doll. There’s another kid, a year ahead of you, whose innate technique is a pachinko parlor. Yuta’s literally possessed by his yandere childhood friend and only discovered his innate technique recently. We’re sorcerers; we’re all freakshows.”

“Well, fine. You do have a point,” I said. This was 2017, modern Earth. Many series I grew up with also existed here. Digimon. Pokemon. Hellsing. And of course… “Okay, so, I may already know my innate technique. It’s not really blood manipulation.”

“Yeah, I figured it wasn’t.”

“What do you see when you look at me? You know, you’re supposed to be able to see all cursed energy, right?”

“Yup, pretty awesome, right? You? You’re like a black hole, so much cursed energy, compressed to such an extreme that it doesn’t even have a color anymore. Shoko-chan was right; you really do have an infinite amount, or as close to it as possible.”

“I mean, that’s probably accurate.”

“And when you use blood manipulation? It’s like a tiny sliver of that black hole came alive. I bet blood manipulation is just one expression of whatever your innate technique really is.”

We watched as Yuta landed on his ass for the sixth time since they began sparring. Maki was utterly vicious, and possibly took out her earlier annoyance on him. “Ever hear of League of Legends?”

“It’s an esports thing, right? You’re a gamer? Didn’t take you for the type.”

“I played off and on. I grew up broke as shit, remember? Time spent in an internet cafe was time I could use to make money.”

“Sure, but everyone needs a hobby, kid,” he said, snorting a little as Panda began doing Wrestlemania moves on Toge.

“I had one. I like cars. Do you have a hobby, sensei?”

“Eh, nah. I’m good at everything I’ve ever tried so I don’t really bother anymore,” he said with a laidback smile.

“Sounds boring. And lonely.”

“It’s all for you kiddies, the next generation. You’d get discouraged if everything you tried, you had to settle for being second best.”

He said it so matter-of-factly, as if it was no different than reciting a grocery list. The sky was blue. The sun was hot. Gojo Satoru was the best. Simple as. 

I chuckled at that. I found it hard to dislike him despite his arrogance. Or was it arrogance at all? He certainly had a charisma all his own. “Is that right? Ever wonder what it’d be like to not be the best?”

“Why wonder about the impossible? Losing is the one thing Gojo Satoru is the worst at, y’know.”

“Of course. Anyway, League of Legends. That’s my innate technique.”

“Eh? Is it like Kinji’s? Does your domain look like an internet cafe?”

“Funny, but probably not. I don’t know what my domain looks like because I’ve yet to unlock it. As for my innate technique, I can call things from the game into the real world.”

“That’s weird, Yasu. You know, innate techniques tend to be reflections of whatever you’re obsessed with, or your personality.”

“Heh, I wouldn’t mind trying to rank up again. I couldn’t play consistently, but maybe now?”

“I don’t recommend it,” Gojo said with a melancholic laugh. “Soon enough, your reaction time is going to be through the roof. Competing with normies? Nah, that gets boring pretty fast.”

“Is that why you have no friends?”

“Wanna get beat up?”

“Kidding, kidding. Should we set up a sorcerers-only lobby?”

“Heh, maybe. So what? You found a way to replicate Vladimir’s techniques? He uses blood, right?”

“Nope, Darkin. You know, like Aatrox.”

“Seriously? I actually recognize that one. That’s pretty sick. You got his sword?” he asked excitedly. I felt like a kid in a card shop showing off his shiny pack pull. “It’s huge, right?”

“There’s a dick joke in there somewhere, but no, I don’t. I’ve never summoned Aatrox’s sword before because there are many Darkin.”

By now, the rest of the class had finished up and gathered around. Which was just as well. Them knowing I drew power from a video game would only make things more convenient in the long run.

Blood manipulation was my bread and butter, but like Gojo said, innate techniques were weird. Having one that was such an anomaly didn’t make me stand out any more than I already did. If anything, what I really should have hidden was the infinite well of power that was Domination, but that wasn’t possible in the first place with the Six Eyes.

I held out my hand and Joraal’s shield formed over it. “This is the Darkin Aegis, from the setting of League of Legends. It belonged to a captain of the Ascended Host named Joraal. He fought in the battle for Icathia against the Voidborn.”

“I understood like two words in that,” Panda said. “Looks edgy as hell, though.”

“Right? Well, Joraal’s a pretty nice guy for the most part.”

“A-Aren’t those things possessed?” Yuta asked nervously. “I used to play a bit. They’re supposed to be weapons with evil spirits in them.”

“Not evil necessarily, more like tortured and alone. In Runeterra lore, Darkin are former Ascended who were sealed into their own weapons. I don’t recommend anyone else use the shield, but I can wield him fine.”

“Sure, but what’s that have to do with blood manipulation?” Maki asked. She looked mildly interested in the weapon.

“All Darkin are hemomancers, blood mages.”

“So you’re not really a Kamo? You’re so screwed. They’re going to try to assassinate you when they find out.”

“You don’t have to sound so excited,” I grouched. “But again, not a clue. I never knew my dad. Seriously, can we run a DNA test? Should I piss into a cup?”

“Eh, I doubt that’d help, Yasu,” Gojo laughed. “At this point, it’s not really about whether you’re part of the Kamo clan by blood. That you have their cursed technique is the important part.”

“So they’ll try to kill me off to protect their clan secrets or something? That blows,” I muttered. I wasn’t too worried, though. Short of them killing me within the week, I’d quickly cease to be vulnerable.

“Kill you? No way. Weren’t you paying attention yesterday? They’re hoping you’ll become a special grade sorcerer like me and Yuta so they can parade you around. If anything, they’ll try to adopt you into the clan.”

“Even if I’m not a Kamo by blood?”

“Eh, wouldn’t be the first time someone’s been adopted into nobility. They’ll just marry off one of their daughters to you, make you sign something about your kids taking the wife’s surname.” He wrapped an arm around my shoulder. Blindfold be damned, we could all tell he was waggling his eyebrows. “How do you feel about Yamato Nadeshiko types? You know, those pure, Japanese beauties.”

I palmed his face and pushed him off me. “Eh, not usually my type. They’re way too much maintenance. Give me a gal with some fire, not a dolled up princess arranging flowers or whatever the fuck they do.”

“Well, I’m just telling you what you can expect from them, my cute student. But don’t worry too much. You’ve got time.”

“Yeah, thanks, sensei.”

He stood and dusted himself off. “Okay, now that most of you worked out some steam, let’s practice your curtains. Yasu, you know what they are?”

“Bounded fields that draw out cursed spirits and keep normies from prying,” I replied dutifully. “I didn’t get to spar with anyone, though.”

“Tough. If you really wanna get beat up, steal Maki’s glasses or something later.”

I took one look at the prickly girl and decided that discretion and discernment were important traits for a sorcerer to have.

The rest of the morning passed like this. As it turned out, Gojo wasn’t much of a classroom type. He was perfectly content to lecture exactly where we were, on the concrete slope that framed the track field.

I wished more of my classes were like this. We lounged back and stared up at the clouds as our teacher described the various uses of barriers. Rather than just talk, he made each one by one so that we could feel what it was like to be inside them.

Learning the basics of barrier techniques was supposed to help sorcerers discover and master their domains. In theory, a domain expansion was just a highly personalized barrier, after all.

That said, I wasn’t sure if the same held true for me. A World Rune wasn’t really an innate technique in the same way everyone else’s was. Knowing how to set up a curtain would undoubtedly still be useful so I tried not to doze off in the morning sun.

After that, we grabbed lunch. Or, Maki grabbed lunch, which turned out to be a delivery order from Sukiya, a fast food place that specialized in beef bowls. It was apparently a pretty common occurrence; she was the type to prefer fast food.

Then came the school lessons. Gojo decided he should finally earn his paycheck and act like a teacher so he ushered us into a classroom and handed out workbooks with normal subjects. This place was, despite all else, still technically a school. We were entitled to an education, even if that education included watching Shoko autopsy a body.

X

I settled into a quiet rhythm over the next few days. The Jujutsu Association gave me my official nametag and told me that I could take on missions with grade two spirits or lower. As a semi-grade one, I was only allowed to tackle stronger spirits if a grade one sorcerer accompanied me.

More importantly, they gave me my student stipend. It wasn’t a lot considering the school came with room and board, but it was nice to have any liquid cash at all. I bought myself some necessities like clothes, toiletries, and a pair of thick, steel rings sized for my middle finger that I found in a pawn shop.

“Yo, Maki,” I greeted as I tossed her a bottle of Gatorade. “You’re a real gym rat, huh?”

The school’s weight room wasn’t exactly high-tech, but we had equipment that could hit higher weights than anything a normal gym would have. Not surprisingly, Maki was a regular.

She caught the bottle and chugged it down before punting it into the trash can across the room. “So? What about it?”

“It’s convenient that I can find you so easily. I had something I wanted to ask you.”

“Shoot.”

“Your glasses. You said you need it to see cursed spirits.”

“And?”

“I figured that the Zenin definitely didn’t get them for you so I want to know where you got them.” I held out the two rings. “See these? I want to hide razor blades inside so they pop out when I curl my fingers the right way.”

“Just get a knife, dumbass. You want a knife? I can give you one.”

“No, no, that’s not it. I’m not looking for a self-defense weapon. These rings are for cutting myself, not other people.”

She hummed in understanding. “Ah, I get it. You use blood, except all your blood is on the inside.”

“Exactly. Letting someone shank me just so I can start using hemomancy is stupid. I don’t need to carry around a visible weapon when I have Joraal’s shield so I want something like your glasses, something that’ll blend in.”

“Alright, fine. We have a cursed tool craftsman on-site here.”

“We do?”

“We do. Let me finish my set and I’ll take you to see him. Spot me,” she said as she turned back to her weights.

“Awesome, thanks, Maki.”

X

“Hello? Are you busy, doc?” I called as I headed into the basement beneath the temple.

The space here doubled as both a morgue and a doctor’s clinic, which was morbid as hell now that I thought about it. It felt a little like opening a brewery next to a drug rehab center. One way or another, business catered to everyone.

This was the domain of Shoko Ieri, the miracle healer who was probably criminally underpaid. No, I had no idea what she made. I was, however, certain that it wasn’t enough. Jujutsu society would collapse without her.

She was a tall, slim woman with long, brown hair that was currently tied in a loose ponytail. She wore a conservative skirt and blue turtleneck under a white lab coat. The dark lines under her eyes really added to the “overworked doctor” aesthetic. 

She looked up from her desk with a tired smile. “Ah, Yasunori-kun, was it? How can I help you? Can I cut you open?”

I let out a bark of laughter. “I mean, maybe?”

“You just became my favorite student. What’s up, kid?”

“I heard you were the expert when it comes to reverse cursed technique. I wanted to know what it took to learn something like that.”

“Oh? It’s not easy, you know. I wish it was, but it’s not,” she sighed longingly. “Wouldn’t that be nice? A world where idiots could patch themselves up?”

“Then you’d be out of a job,” I replied dryly.

“Sounds like a dream. So, you want to learn reverse cursed technique. Why? A big, burly boy like you? I figured you’d be all about knocking heads and making a name for yourself.”

“I am. Honestly? I’m good at punching things and fixing cars. But well, I heard blood has a lot of spiritual connections to life and whatnot. And, I can regenerate. So why not? I want to know if it’s possible to channel reverse cursed technique through my blood, you know, kind of like a super blood transfusion.”

“Interesting hypothesis… You regenerate, you said?” she asked. A dangerous gleam lit her eyes. “How well?”

“Uh… I regenerate faster when I’m fighting.”

“Without reverse cursed technique?”

“As far as I'm aware, I’ve never used it. I didn’t even know it was a thing until recently,” I told her truthfully. I hadn’t known I was in Jujutsu Kaisen until recently.

“That shouldn’t be possible. Cursed energy is by definition corrosive. It’s a negative force on the world. It destroys, not heals. Reverse cursed technique is the act of multiplying a negative with a negative, manually turning cursed energy into a positive force. You don’t just do it instinctively.”

“I don’t know what to tell you, doc.” I held out my finger, the same finger I cut when I was being rated. “You saw me cut this open to show off my blood manipulation.”

“So I did…” she hummed thoughtfully. “In your own words, how does your regeneration work?”

“I can use blood manipulation to heal myself. Beyond that, I’m not too clear on the specifics,” I told her. Joraal’s lectures simply weren’t applicable to cursed energy.

“That’s not how that works. Blood manipulation works on just that: blood. Blood alone doesn’t fix torn muscle or broken bone, and it definitely doesn’t restore organs or repair nerves. Otherwise, the Kamo clan would be far more influential than they are.”

I shrugged helplessly. That was true for a Kamo. At the end of the day, a Darkin’s hemomancy was only superficially similar to their cursed technique. 

Joraal kept downplaying his own abilities, saying how he was a mediocre blood mage. Maybe that was true compared to the likes of Xolaani or Horazi, but he was a Darkin nonetheless.

All Darkin changed their hosts’ bodies to reflect their original forms. Flesh. Bone. It didn’t matter. Darkin hemomancy was honestly a lot closer to broad-scope biomancy. They just called it hemomancy because blood had spiritual and conceptual significance.

“I’m betting that I have a few advantages most Kamo clansmen don’t have,” I pointed out. “How many of them have unlimited cursed energy to throw into a technique? How many of them can regenerate?”

“True, you do present an interesting subject,” she muttered. She eyed me like a particularly fascinating lab rat.

“I don’t need to be a master like you, doc. Even if what I end up with is hilariously inefficient in terms of cursed energy, that’s fine since I won’t run out.”

“You running out isn’t the concern. I’m not sure what’s going on with you to handle that much cursed energy, but most people aren’t like that. A transfusion might be more dangerous than any wound you’re trying to heal.”

“Even if I convert it to reverse cursed energy?”

“If you can convert it, that would mitigate some of the risks. Positive energy is still energy, however. What happens when you overfill a balloon?”

“Point. I still want to learn,” I said, full well knowing that I was signing up to be her guinea pig.

A slow smile stretched across her face. Had I not known better, I might have even called it charming. “Very well then, Yasunori-kun. I suppose we’ll have to start with a thorough examination of your body.”

That was how I learned that Shoko Ieri was a woman of hidden depths. She wasn’t just a sorceress with a smoking habit. She was also a licensed doctor and forensics scientist. She was a mortician, trained both in embalming as well as traditional religious burial rites.

More pertinent to my immediate future, she had a scalpel collection. Other women collected shoes and handbags. Shoko Ieri collected vivisection tools. She showed them off like vintage Digimon cards before thoroughly testing just how my regeneration worked. Truly, doctors were scarier than cursed spirits.

Author’s Note

I’m making up meanings for rice ball ingredients. Kelp is canonical as a greeting, though.

Like people pointed out, having League of Legends as the basis for his power isn’t itself that unusual. The thing that makes Yasunori an anomaly is the infinite well of cursed energy. That’s not something he can hide, so he may as well not bother.

Darkin “blood manipulation" is hilariously versatile. I figure that he may as well learn how to use it for more than making edgy, red swords.

Animal Fact: The oldest evidence of domesticated cats goes back 9,500 years. However, evidence suggests that domesticated dogs have been a part of our lives since as far back as 15,000 years.