When people are born, the name they receive is a kind of wish. It was unclear what kind of wish had been imbued in the name Kokichi, but Kokichi Muta knew that wish was fragile.
Heaven doesn’t bestow only blessings. It had given him cursed energy but not freedom. It would have been great if his immense strength brought happiness, but it didn’t, so he had no choice but to consider it a curse instead of a blessing.
Heavenly Restriction meant Kokichi Muta had to sacrifice a healthy and sound body in exchange for his power. Even moonlight burned his sensitive skin. He was missing part of his right arm and his legs, and he was connected to a life-support system, which meant he couldn’t even leave his dim room.
In return, he had a massive amount of cursed energy and a cursed technique with a wide range. This exchange, to which he had never agreed, had been set since his birth. In this dark room that allowed no freedom, Kokichi Muta sought release in the fantasies of television. Otherwise, he might have gone insane.
One robot anime had made a particular impression on him. It was made for children, but the machinery and dim light of the robots’ cockpit had reminded him of his own environment. Imagining himself as the mechanized hero portrayed in a work of fiction was his only consolation.
The anime told an epic story about a steel-clad hero who could never break. Missiles shot through the air burning hotter than hellfire, and the robotic punches were faster than wind. In their confrontations, the robots’ bodies creaked and shed sparks.
One robot would yield to neither sword nor bullets. No matter the damages he suffered nor the burdensome fate he bore, he would not bend. He fought like a storm, got back up over and over again, and always returned to his comrades.
That robot was called …
“Mechamaru, you’ve got a glow! Have you changed your foundation?” Mai asked.
“Of course not. Panda demolished me, so now I’m brand new,” Mechamaru replied.
“You make it sound almost heartwarming,” said Miwa.
They were in the second-year classroom at Kyoto Jujutsu High School. Mechamaru was checking the condition of the joints in his right hand.
“That panda just isn’t cute,” said Mai. “He acts like an old dude.”
“Well, Panda was a gorilla, not a panda,” Mechamaru explained.
“As if that makes any sense,” replied Miwa.
“Did you attend a Goodwill Event at Ueno Zoo or something?” Mai asked.
“All right, quiet down now,” Assistant Manager Tanabe said, ending their conversation with a clap of his hands.
Tanabe turned off the lights and used a projector to show images of traffic accidents on the white wall. They were a sharp contrast to the Japanese-style architecture defining the room’s interior. Judging from Tanabe’s puffed-up demeanor, Mai and Mechamaru guessed that he chose this room because of the importance of the meeting, so they were attentive.
“It has become clear that the outbreak of traffic accidents around Kyoto is the work of a curse user,” Tanabe said.
“A curse user? Not a cursed spirit?” Miwa asked.
“Well, witnesses have spotted a cursed spirit with an unnatural appearance at some of the crash sites,” Tanabe explained. “It was a shikigami, which led to suspicion that the curse user was purposely disturbing drivers of motor vehicles. I investigated, and …” Tanabe switched images. Now they were looking at an overhead view of Kyoto. Indicators marked the locations of a few accidents. “Judging from the accident sites and residuals, there is a high possibility that the curse user’s hideout is here.”
“Mount Hiei?” Mai asked, frowning as she recognized the location.
It wasn’t unthinkable. Well-known historical locations were prime sites for negative emotions. The burnt remains of Enryaku Temple on Mount Hiei are well-known. It’s said that Oda Nobunaga’s slaughter of the Buddhist priests there spared neither young nor old, man nor woman, not even children. The severity of that incident led to it becoming a famous paranormal site.
Mai tilted her head. “Seriously? A little obvious, no?”
“Yes, it’s suspicious. I agree.” Tanabe nodded. “Ordinarily, a curse user would be unable to hide on Mount Hiei, an area that sorcerers treat with extra caution because it’s a good spot for cursed spirits to gather. Jujutsu High personnel frequently visit Enryaku Temple, and they wouldn’t fail to notice any suspicious individuals or evidence.”
“But they did.”
“And there’s a reason for that,” Tanabe said.
“Is this connected to that news story a couple months ago?” Mechamaru asked.
“You are correct, Mr. Ultimate.”
“Ultimate isn’t my last name.”
Mechamaru heard a tittering of voices. With a scraping of metal on metal, he turned to face them. Miwa was still laughing, but Mai got the conversation back on course to avoid any further disagreement on the matter.
“Surely it’s not the place with the toxic gas eruption.”
“Yes, that’s the place,” Tanabe answered. “An automotive dealer from Shiga Prefecture had a maintenance facility there, where they stored damaged cars. It filled up with toxic exhaust fumes, then someone put a curtain there.”
“So now sorcerers can’t go in to fight because of the gas, and humans can’t go in to resolve the gas issue because of the curtain,” Mechamaru reasoned.
“I doubt the gas issue would resolve on its own—the curtain is probably keeping it in. But it is possible to go in and investigate, right?”
“Yeah, you could use gas masks or a reconnaissance shikigami.”
“But since human beings couldn’t go in without special equipment, no one suspected a curse user was hiding there. I guess that’s why the higher-ups didn’t do anything sooner. Thus, the gas stayed there, and when you went to investigate, there was a curtain.”
“That’s right,” Tanabe said. Seeing Miwa and Mai work it out for themselves left him feeling less important.
“Do we have any info on the curse user? Like their power level or cursed technique?”
“The cursed technique is probably simple manipulation of objects using shikigami as a medium. If we restrict the target for manipulation to the functioning of automobiles, we may be able to estimate the cursed technique’s range and force. Having said that, we can speculate from the broad range of the cursed technique that the curse user is semi-grade 1 or higher.”
“That doesn’t tell us much.”
“Well, we have to guess based on the evidence from the accidents around the city. Furthermore, the gas is covering a large area and there’s only so much we can do with shikigami. A thorough investigation would take time we don’t have because then the curse user might get away. We have to go straight in, prepared to eliminate or capture the offender.”
“But the poisonous gas is an obvious obstacle, and without knowing the curse user’s rank, what can we do? Besides, isn’t assigning this to Jujutsu High School students a bit …” Miwa broke off and looked at Mechamaru.
“As you seem to have guessed,” Tanabe said, “Kyoto Jujutsu High has a sorcerer who is able to use a cursed technique to cover a broad area remotely. It makes him suitable for the mission.”
“So it’s Mechamaru’s mission and his alone?”
“Basically, yes. I did think, however, that I would ask you two to help me keep an eye on the city.”
“Grunt work,” Mai grumbled, still looking at Mechamaru.
Mechamaru’s expression hadn’t changed, because he didn’t have a function for facial expressions. By contrast, Mai looked displeased and Miwa’s face revealed the opposite of easy acceptance. No one needed to ask how the others were feeling.
“No problem. I’m the one best suited to the job,” Mechamaru said indifferently.
It was still early for bright autumn foliage, but the edges of the leaves in the school courtyard were beginning to turn. Kokichi liked seeing the Kyoto school through the human-sized Mechamaru as opposed to the smaller puppet he used for side jobs. Unfortunately, seeing the world from inside a puppet created a sense of separation, like looking through glass. However, he had no choice at the moment, so he had given up on anything better, for the time being, at least.
“My objective is to seize control of the curse user’s base of operations,” Mechamaru said.
The sorcerers could probably have easily suppressed the base with superior numbers, inundating it with a fighting force of as many puppets as they could muster, including Mechamaru. However, the spares registered at Jujutsu High were active as informers, so they needed to remain secret. Besides, it was preferable to keep the puppets, including the heavy hitters, on standby, so that they could collectively intercept attacks by special grade cursed spirits.
Kokichi knew that secrets could come back to bite you, but he wouldn’t truly realize the impact of that truth until later.
“Mechamaru,” a voice called out to him.
Mechamaru had been so focused on the scenery that he hadn’t noticed someone approaching.
“Oh … Kamo?” he said.
“You don’t appear to have any lasting effects from the Goodwill Event,” Kamo said.
“I wasn’t the one who got injured.”
“You have a point there.”
Kamo’s attitude wasn’t particularly apologetic. What caught Mechamaru’s attention was that the boy hadn’t removed the bandage from his head.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“No worries,” Kamo replied. “It’s not so bad I can’t walk around.”
Mechamaru was unable to brush off Kamo’s reply with small talk. There had been a deal that was supposed to ensure the Kyoto students were protected from harm, but then special grade cursed spirits attacked. There was no way it could have been predicted, but Kokichi himself had undoubtedly been a contributing factor. Kamo’s injury was just one result of Kokichi’s actions.
Mechamaru was unable to show emotion, which helped Kokichi hide how he felt. He couldn’t hide silence, however, which Kamo interpreted as concern.
“Don’t be so dramatic,” he said. “I can even play baseball. There’s really no need to worry.”
“That’s right,” Mechamaru replied. “The second day of the Goodwill Event was a baseball competition.”
“I thought it was a bad joke.”
“Satoru Gojo always keeps things lively.”
“You can say that again.”
Kamo’s expression betrayed little, but to Mechamaru’s eyes, he seemed more amused than usual, as if something good had happened.
That reminded Mechamaru of something he wanted to ask about. “I heard they used a pitching machine instead of me.”
Mechamaru had seen it in action through the eyes of a small surveillance puppet. He’d raised the topic because he felt sad at having been unable to participate openly. He had wanted to feel as if at least a shadow of himself was present at the boisterous social event, but Kamo was silent and looked uncomfortable.
“Um, I wasn’t being critical,” Mechamaru added.
“Iori Sensei said that if we were going to do it, we should use our best lineup and aim for victory,” Kamo replied.
“He gets a little strange when it comes to sports and Satoru Gojo.”
“Yes, he’s like that.”
Kamo stood beside Mechamaru and gazed at the same trees. The breeze brushed at their cheeks. After a silence, Kamo said, “I heard you’re going to investigate Mount Hiei.”
“That didn’t take long,” Mechamaru replied.