The Familiar Sewer

After half a day of training, Mishima had more or less learned how to use his Cursed Technique. His cockroaches could weave between the shelves in formation, and he could maintain a coating of cursed energy for several minutes. For a complete newcomer to Jujutsu, his progress was remarkably fast.

Gu Yanzhi worked out the timing. If he remembered correctly, Okkotsu killed Dhruv Lakdawalla on November 12. When he had passed the convenience store counter earlier, he had glanced at the clock on the wall. That date was drawing near.

It was time to head to the Sendai Gymnasium.

For safety, Gu Yanzhi told Mishima that he would suppress the cursed energy leaking from him. Entering Dhruv Lakdawalla's territory with such an enormous amount of cursed energy would look like a provocation no matter how anyone saw it. Although the Four Heavenly Kings kept one another in check and none wanted to rashly upset the balance, Dhruv Lakdawalla would certainly respond to an enemy approaching him so brazenly.

Besides, of the Sendai Four Heavenly Kings, Dhruv Lakdawalla was the strongest counter to Kurourushi. Unless it was necessary, Gu Yanzhi wanted to minimize direct conflict with him.

To that end, Gu Yanzhi first had Mishima send the cockroaches out to scout for a route beyond the coverage of Dhruv Lakdawalla's Shikigami. After more than an hour of searching, the swarm finally found a viable route.

Following the cockroaches' guidance, Mishima arrived at a sewer entrance.

The sight of the familiar sewer sent goose bumps prickling across Mishima's body. The dark opening before him overlapped with a scene buried deep in his memories, and he instinctively took half a step back.

"So the route you found goes through the sewer?" Gu Yanzhi asked, his voice quite calm.

"That makes sense. Dhruv Lakdawalla has two kinds of Shikigami. One is a giant rodent whose enormous size lets it cover most of the area aboveground. The other resembles a pterosaur and monitors the ground from every angle in the air. With those two kinds of Shikigami restricting our options, underground should be the safest route."

"...Can't we take another route?" Mishima asked very quietly.

"This is the only route that avoids Dhruv Lakdawalla." Gu Yanzhi gave him no choice. "Go down."

Mishima took a deep breath, bent over, and crawled into the sewer entrance.

Damp, foul-smelling air hit him in the face. Sewage rose to his ankles, making dull splashes beneath his feet.

He walked along the pipe wall, found an iron pipe, and held it across his chest, cursed energy gathering at his fingertips, ready to erupt at any moment.

The two of them walked through the sewer for a long time, their splashing footsteps breaking off intermittently. Strange sounds occasionally drifted from deeper inside-something chewing, or claws scraping against the pipe walls, sometimes interspersed with the faintest whimpers.

Every few steps, Mishima stopped and listened, only moving on after confirming the direction of the sounds. His palms were slick with sweat, making the iron pipe slip slightly in his grip.

"On your left. Something's coming." Gu Yanzhi sensed something and immediately warned him.

Mishima froze for half a second before barely managing to react. The coating of cursed energy had only just covered his arms when a dark shape lunged from a branching passage on the left-so fast that he had no time to dodge. All he could do was raise both arms and take the blow head-on.

A dull crash exploded between the narrow pipe walls. Mishima was hurled four or five steps backward, his soles dragging two long trails through the sewage. Only after his back hit the wall did he barely steady himself.

He focused his gaze. A Cursed Spirit clung to the pipe wall on all fours, looking like a toad enlarged dozens of times over.

Lumpy growths covered its skin, and translucent webbing connected its digits. Every breath produced a watery gurgle in its throat.

"This fight is yours," Gu Yanzhi said, his voice cold and flat. "If you can't beat it, you might as well die."

Mishima tightened his grip on the iron pipe until his knuckles turned white. He could feel his palms sweating, and the cursed energy coating the pipe flickered as his concentration faltered.

At the end of the day, he was only a twelve-year-old child. Practicing against empty air in a convenience store was one thing. Facing a monster that reeked of decay was another entirely.

The toad Cursed Spirit kicked off with its hind legs, launching itself like a cannonball. The pressure of its charge tore a patch of moss from the pipe wall. Mishima instinctively raised the iron pipe in front of him, but the difference in strength was too great-the pipe was knocked away, and the blow sent him flying. His back smashed through loose bricks in the pipe wall, leaving him embedded in it.

Blood surged up his throat, choking him into a violent coughing fit. His mind grew hazy, tears spilled uncontrollably, and his vision began to double. An overwhelming sense of déjà vu washed over him. Mishima's eyes widened as terrible memories began surfacing in his mind.

The Cursed Spirit gave him no time to catch his breath and immediately moved to finish him off. In the space of a breath, it closed in on Mishima and brought down a second heavy punch. The dull impact echoed throughout that stretch of sewer, shaking dust loose from the pipe walls.

The Cursed Spirit tried to pull its hand back for another punch, but its fist would not come free.

As the dust cleared, Mishima's right hand came into view, wrapped in an exceptionally powerful layer of cursed energy as it clamped tightly around the Cursed Spirit's fist.

His fingers sank into the growths on the toad's skin, and dark green slime seeped between them.

The boy and the Cursed Spirit stared into each other's eyes.

Mishima's gaze had changed-his earlier hesitation and fear were gone. Something had ignited deep within his pupils.

Meanwhile, a swarm of cockroaches had covered the Cursed Spirit's legs without anyone noticing. They poured out of cracks in the pipe walls and emerged from beneath the sewage, crawling up its limbs in dense layers. The sounds of gnawing echoed through the narrow pipe, the rustle of scraping shells mingling with the wet sounds of flesh being torn apart.

The Cursed Spirit cried out in agony and tried to break free, but Mishima's hand locked around its fist like a vise.

Mishima kicked it away. Its body crashed into the sewage, sending water splashing up. Before it could get to its feet, more cockroaches surged over it, engulfing it completely.

Mishima limped over and looked down at the twisted face being eaten by cockroaches. He raised both hands, gathering cursed energy over his knuckles, and drove a fist down. Then came a second punch, and a third, until the Cursed Spirit's body dissipated completely.

Several other Cursed Spirits still lurked around the pipe walls. Hidden in the shadows of branching passages or poking half their heads out of the sewage, they watched the boy standing there on his injured leg with predatory intent.

Mishima slowly turned around and raised his right hand, curling his fingers around empty air. A black blade took shape in his grip. Its body was pitch-black, a faint dark sheen flowing across its surface, with several eyeball-like orbs writhing upon it. A thick aura of death and decay spread from its edge.

Gripping the Festering Life Sword, he pointed it at the lurking Cursed Spirits and roared.

"Get lost!"