hunting season

The text from Gojo arrived at sunset the next day, just as Jay was finishing a convenience store dinner in one of their favorite abandoned buildings.

*Harajuku Station, east exit. 9 PM. Come armed. -G*

Jay stared at the message, part of them still not quite believing they were doing this. Working with someone else went against every survival instinct they'd developed over the years. But Gojo had been right about one thing—they were tired of just surviving.

Maybe it was time to try actually living.

Harajuku at night was a different creature than during the day. The crowds of tourists and fashion-obsessed teenagers were replaced by a smaller, stranger collection of night owls and people with nowhere else to go. Jay moved through the familiar chaos easily, six white daggers secure at their belt, senses alert for any sign of cursed energy.

They found Gojo waiting by the station's east exit, checking his phone with the casual patience of someone who'd never had to worry about being late for anything important.

"Punctual," he noted approvingly as Jay approached. "Good trait for this line of work."

"You said come armed," Jay replied, not bothering with small talk. "Where are we going?"

Instead of answering, Gojo started walking deeper into the district, past the bright lights and tourist traps toward the quieter residential areas. Jay fell into step beside him, noting how other pedestrians seemed to unconsciously give them a wide berth.

"The attacks have all happened in a six-block radius," Gojo explained as they walked. "Always between 11 PM and 2 AM, always victims who were alone. The cursed spirit seems to prefer people who won't be missed quickly—runaways, night shift workers, people on the margins."

Jay's jaw tightened. Those were their people, the ones society forgot about. "What kind of injuries?"

"That's the interesting part. No physical trauma, but all three victims are in comas. The doctors can't explain it—brain activity is minimal, but there's no sign of head injury or toxin exposure."

"Soul damage," Jay said quietly.

Gojo stopped walking. "What did you say?"

Jay realized they'd spoken aloud and cursed internally. But it was too late to take it back now. "The symptoms you're describing—it sounds like something attacked their souls directly. Left their bodies intact but damaged the connection between soul and flesh."

"And you know this because...?"

Jay met his gaze steadily. "Because I've seen what happens when souls get damaged. It's not pretty."

Gojo stared at them for a long moment, and Jay had the uncomfortable feeling those hidden eyes were cataloging every micro-expression on their face.

"We'll talk about that later," he said finally. "Right now, we have a spirit to hunt."

They continued deeper into the residential maze, past apartment buildings and narrow houses packed together like sardines. The streets grew quieter, darker, and Jay began to feel that familiar prickle along their spine that meant danger was close.

"There," Gojo murmured, nodding toward a narrow alley between two buildings.

Jay looked where he'd indicated and saw... nothing. Just shadows and the usual urban debris. But when they focused, really looked the way their technique had taught them to see, there was something else. A wrongness in the air, like a stain on reality itself.

"I see it," they said.

"Do you? Because I'm getting cursed energy readings, but I can't visually confirm the target."

Jay glanced at him in surprise. The strongest sorcerer in Japan couldn't see something that was clear as day to them? Interesting.

The cursed spirit was crouched in the deepest shadows of the alley, waiting. It looked almost human at first glance—until you noticed the too-long limbs and the way its head twisted at an impossible angle. When it moved, it flowed rather than walked, like liquid given form.

"Forty feet into the alley," Jay reported quietly. "Humanoid shape but wrong proportions. It's... hunting. Looking for someone."

As if summoned by their words, footsteps echoed from the other end of the street. A young woman, probably not much older than Jay, was walking home from a late shift if her uniform was anything to judge by. She had earbuds in, completely oblivious to the danger lurking in the shadows.

The cursed spirit's head snapped toward her, and Jay saw its mouth open in what might have been anticipation.

"It's going to move," Jay said, hand already on their daggers.

"Wait." Gojo's voice was calm, controlled. "Let it commit to the attack first. We need to understand its abilities before we engage."

Jay stared at him. "There's a civilian about to walk into that alley."

"Who won't be in any real danger if we handle this correctly."

The woman was getting closer, and the cursed spirit was beginning to unfold itself from the shadows. Jay could practically feel its hunger, its excitement at finding prey.

"She could die," Jay said flatly.

"She won't. Trust me."

But Jay had learned long ago that trust was a luxury they couldn't afford. Especially not when someone else's life hung in the balance.

The woman reached the mouth of the alley. The cursed spirit tensed to spring.

And Jay moved.

---

*To be continued...*