The fly heads feel my cursed energy spike and immediately begin to buzz in panic. I raise a hand absentmindedly toward the swarm.
My subconscious knowledge of cursed spirit manipulation tells me these spirits are so weak I don't need to beat them to absorb them.
I can just do it.
They begin to screech even louder as they're dragged toward my hand, compressing into a disgusting ball of cursed energy. I don't hesitate—I swallow the orb while simultaneously leaping backward as the massive worm curse slams into where I stood.
The pure disgust I feel after swallowing yet another ball of shit is overridden by the sheer amount of adrenaline coursing through my veins.
The absorbed fly heads burst out from a black rip in the air.
I command them mentally to swarm the worm spirit. They don't hesitate. Their grotesque mouths bite into its thick hide—not doing any real damage, but serving as a perfect distraction.
Bob begins chucking boulders as the worm spirit thrashes in confusion, its inexperience showing. Then it lets out an inhuman roar—
—and the earth rises.
I'm forced to leap around to avoid the sudden spikes of ground erupting beneath me.
"Its cursed technique… it can manipulate earth?" I mutter, rolling to avoid a pillar of stone flying toward me.
I feel my connection to some of my fly heads fade as they're obliterated by stray pillars.
I command Bob to stay alive and redirect the fly heads. Instead of attacking, they begin buzzing erratically around the worm, disorienting it.
Blurring into motion, cursed energy humming beneath my skin, I slam a kick into one of the worm's eyes.
It screeches in agony as its eye bursts with a wet squelch, purple blood spilling out.
Bob moves in a blur, his hand crushing the other eye.
I flip away as the worm begins thrashing wildly. The remaining fly heads struggle to carry a massive boulder, their movements shaky. I enhance them with my cursed energy, draining my reserves heavily—but it works.
The boulder crashes down onto the worm's head with a thunderous impact.
I leap into the air and slam my enhanced feet onto the boulder, driving it down harder, crushing the worm's head as its struggles weaken—
—and then stop.
Its body dissolves into black mist.
I raise my hand, a small smile twisting my face.
My first heavy hitter.
But then my eyes widen as I begin compressing the spirit. My other hand rises to assist as I grit my teeth.
"Why is this so hard!?" I groan, veins bulging along my forehead.
Slowly, the spirit begins to compress, spinning rapidly despite its gurgling protests.
It takes five minutes.
Five long minutes.
But eventually, I compress it into a dense ball. This one feels heavy in my hands, its cursed energy immense.
I shove it down my throat without hesitation.
The taste is unbearable.
I drop to my knees, gagging as the overwhelming sensation of filth—shit and rot—forces me to vomit.
After a few minutes of regretting my life, I slowly stand.
Despite everything, I smile.
A massive tear in space appears behind me, and my strongest spirit steps out. My reserves dip dangerously low after exhausting myself and summoning the worm.
With a thought, I command it to raise the earth.
It obeys instantly.
That's when my mind begins racing.
Using a cursed spirit in Uzumaki allows you to use their cursed technique once. But what if I don't need to sacrifice them?
What if I don't manifest their physical bodies—
—but their techniques?
Would that let me use earth manipulation directly?
The downside is obvious. Once a cursed spirit is under my control, its technique no longer improves.
But I can work around that.
A lack of raw power or finesse can be compensated with skill. Most cursed techniques don't evolve much anyway—it's the user's application that matters.
The real problem is manifesting a controlled spirit's technique without summoning it.
That's something for the future.
For now, I need to focus.
—
—
It's been two weeks since it all began.
My cursed spirit arsenal has grown—a lot.
Most of them are fodder like fly heads, but the more the merrier. I have a few stronger spirits comparable to Bob, each with their own grotesque forms.
The earthworm remains my trump card.
My spirits have stolen an abundance of food—rice, fish, even wild fowl. In just two weeks, the malnourished look I had is almost completely gone.
I won't lie.
I've been stuffing my face.
The huts scattered throughout this forest belong to peasants tied to nearby estates—people who live and die under nobles they'll never meet. Their lives revolve around rice paddies, taxes, and survival.
Curses?
They don't even understand them.
Ironically, curses are the only thing I understand properly.
My training regime is simple.
Four hours of meditation. Cardio. And coordinating formations with my cursed spirits.
Meditation is crucial.
To use cursed energy, I need to stay in a negative mindset.
But who says it has to be pure despair?
I've been using envy.
Envy is negative—and mine is focused on strength.
On becoming stronger.
Meditation also helps me understand my cursed energy better. Right now, I'm wildly inefficient.
When I reinforce my body, I use far too much energy.
I still don't fully understand how to maximize reinforcement without harming myself—not until I learn reverse cursed technique.
Think of it like this:
A punch that can split a tree should only need one bucket of water.
But when I reinforce myself, I pour in three.
A massive waste.
If I didn't have immense reserves, this incompetence would get me killed.
Still…
Three buckets is better than before.
At the beginning, I was using ten.
Pathetic.
There are three key things I remember about jujutsu.
First: 80% of a sorcerer's potential is their cursed technique.
I got lucky.
Cursed Spirit Manipulation is incredibly strong—though it comes with the disgusting requirement of consuming spirits.
Second: cursed energy reserves are fixed.
You can't increase them.
Third: output is also mostly fixed, except through temporary boosts like binding vows.
So if you're born weak, your only options are efficiency—
—or living a normal life.
Luckily for me, I hit the jackpot.
My reserves are massive.
I have nothing to compare them to, but maintaining reinforcement for over an hour and a half—even with terrible efficiency—says enough.
I'd put myself around Okkotsu Yuta.
Not the King of Curses.
Not without confirmation.
Maybe one day.
I probably look creepy as hell.
A four-year-old sitting perfectly still in the rain, surrounded by cursed spirits, radiating energy.
Rain drips steadily from the roof of the hut. The scent of wet earth mixes with the faint rot of curses lingering in the forest.
Somewhere in the distance, I hear the creak of ox carts moving along muddy roads—likely carrying tax grain to a provincial storehouse.
Life goes on.
Even here.
I can just imagine it—
A tax collector walking into this forest, expecting to find a normal peasant family…
—and instead finding me.
—
Rustle.
—
Speak of the devil.
—
—
(Ichiji Tachibana)
Of course.
My punishment for disappointing father is collecting taxes from peasants.
Insignificant beings who can't even use jujutsu.
The Heian court thrives on elegance—poetry, layered robes, incense.
And here I am, dragging a cart through mud.
Disgraceful.
One last hut remains, near a Sugiwara outpost west of Kyoto. The cart behind me is filled with rice and goods, growing heavier with each step.
As I enter the forest, something feels wrong.
Too quiet.
No birds.
No insects.
Even the rain feels… muted.
Then it hits me.
Every bone in my body locks up.
My eyes widen.
The cursed energy radiating ahead—
It's overwhelming.
Vile.
Wrong.
My instincts scream at me to run.
My gaze lands on a child.
No older than four.
And I realize—
He's the source.
My pride flares. I force myself to stand straight.
It's just a child.
"Oi, brat. Where are your parents? I'm here to collect taxes."
Then I see them.
Fly heads.
Thousands of them.
All watching me.
Behind the hut, a semi-grade 2 cursed spirit stands silently, muscles bulging, its pale blue skin stretched tight.
"My parents aren't here anymore. Sorry, I can't give you anything."
The child's tone is false.
I step back instinctively.
His eyes…
Cold.
Too aware.
This isn't a child.
It's a monster.
My hand moves to my tachi.
His eyebrow lifts.
His cursed energy spikes.
Space tears open behind him.
The fly heads begin moving in hypnotic patterns.
Why haven't they fled?
They should be running from someone like me. Especially after I flared my cursed energy
Instead—
They obey him.
His cursed technique allows him to command spirits?
A massive grade 1 cursed spirit emerges behind him.
Ten meters long.
Bulky.
Overwhelming.
My legs tremble.
I don't think.
I drop everything—
—and run.
Branches whip past me as I sprint blindly through the forest, my sandals slipping in the mud.
I don't look back.
I can't.
That presence…
That thing…
It wasn't human.
'You little monster! Just wait until my father hears about you!'
—
Back at the hut, I watch him disappear.
My fly heads trail after him until he leaves my range.
"…So that's how it is."
A slow smile spreads across my face.
Organized sorcerers.
Structure.
Power.
Good.
That means I won't be wandering blindly forever.
But it also means—
"They'll come back."
Stronger.
Prepared.
Maybe in groups.
I'm under no illusion. That man was going to draw his sword on me despite me clearly being a child physically. And I could feel his cursed energy rise. His reserves maybe 1/8th mine.
He was expecting a fight. I was just going to politely ask him to leave. Now he's going to run off to whoever he works for and they're gonna come back looking for trouble.
Behind me, the massive worm shifts.
I exhale slowly, rain running down my face.
"Good."
My cursed energy hums low and steady.
"Let them."
Because if there's one thing I remember. Is that sorcerers grow the most when their life's are in danger. Conflict means growth. And there's nothing I need more than growth.
Also he left his cart. I shrug and make Bob drag it over. I'll take more food.