The Cast-Off Body

The two believers did not understand at first.

Then the words reached them.

Glorious evolution.

Their expressions changed at the same time, first disbelief, then worship so intense it almost looked like pain.

"God," one whispered. "Are we truly worthy?"

"Worth is proven by faith," God said.

He placed two syringes on the table. Clouded liquid shifted inside the glass, thick and faintly alive. If either believer had been able to hear what moved inside it, they would have heard screaming.

They heard nothing.

They saw only a gift.

God lifted both syringes with ceremonial care and placed one in each pair of trembling hands.

"Do not hesitate," he said. "Witness your own evolution."

The believers pressed the needles into their arms.

For one breath, nothing happened.

Then pain arrived.

Blood thickened beneath their skin. Veins swelled black. Their faces twisted as flesh peeled from bone in small wet strips. Fingers bent the wrong way, then lengthened. Teeth cracked and grew. The skin along their scalps tore open as if something beneath it wanted to climb out.

God watched them scream.

His fingers moved gently, conducting the sound like music.

One believer collapsed first. His body convulsed, trying to continue changing after the mind had already broken.

God's interest vanished.

"Failure."

Men dressed like medieval guards stepped forward, lifted the ruined believer, and dragged him away.

In the deepest disposal pit beneath the cult, red eyes opened in the dark. The failed believer landed among old bones and unfinished things. A figure crawled close and began to chew before the screams had fully stopped.

The second believer survived.

Not beautifully. Not cleanly. His skin had become uneven. His shoulders hunched. His face looked unfinished. But his eyes retained thought.

He knelt.

"The evolution is complete."

God smiled.

"Good. Zeal should strengthen faith, not destroy reason. Remember that."

The survivor lowered his head even farther.

"Kamon was the lowest level," God said. "A disposable tool. The hooded one sent to Jujutsu High stood higher than that. Loyal, but still capable of thought. Faith without control is just hunger."

"Yes, my God."

"Go with the outside handlers. Learn restraint."

The survivor withdrew.

When the door closed, an elder in red robes pushed a nutrient pod out from a hidden room. Tubes hung from it like veins. Without a word, he connected a thick needle from the pod to God's arm.

Neither of them spoke. The action had been repeated too many times to require instruction.

God leaned back and closed his eyes.

"When will you accept your true self, Tengen?"

The next morning at Jujutsu High, Masamichi Yaga was not in a mood for philosophy.

"Explain yourselves!"

His voice shook the classroom.

Satoru Gojo stood with his hands in his pockets, looking as if he had never done anything wrong in his life. Suguru Geto stood beside him with a calmer expression that somehow made Yaga angrier. Riko Amanai sat at a desk, holding one of Yaga's small cursed dolls in her lap as if it were a pet.

"The mission was to protect the Star Plasma Vessel until her erasure," Yaga said. "Why is the Star Plasma Vessel sitting in my classroom?"

"Her name is Riko," Gojo said.

Yaga's eyebrow twitched.

"The higher-ups called me last night. Do you understand how close you came to turning this into a disaster?"

Gojo opened his mouth.

Yaga threw a gorilla doll at him.

Gojo caught it.

The doll punched him in the jaw.

"Hey!"

The gorilla doll raised both fists in victory.

Riko's eyes shone. "It is cute."

"Do not encourage it," Gojo said.

Riko picked up the doll before Gojo could retaliate.

Yaga saw her hugging it and, despite himself, softened.

"Fortunately, Tengen prepared a substitute vessel in case of an accident. Otherwise, all of you would be facing more than a lecture."

Geto's gaze shifted slightly.

So that was why Tengen had stopped chasing Riko.

Yaga exhaled. "No classes today. Go exorcise curses. The city is not kind enough to wait for your personal drama to end."

"What about Ren?" Gojo asked.

"Tengen will still honor the agreement with his agency," Yaga said. "The Zenin clan will deliver the reward this afternoon."

Riko raised a hand. "Can I stay with them?"

Gojo turned to her. "Why are you following us? Ren promised you safety and then disappeared."

"Because he said staying with you and Geto is absolutely safe."

Gojo paused.

Then he looked away, pleased despite himself.

Geto smiled. He had not missed the relief on Yaga's face when Riko entered alive.

At that same hour, Ren was elsewhere.

The sealed room belonging to Tengen had changed.

The first sensation was pressure, like seawater filling a space that had never touched the ocean. Breathing became difficult. The air grew heavy enough to press against bone.

Tengen opened his eyes.

"If you intend to appear, please do so," he said. "Otherwise, I may die before the conversation begins."

The pressure vanished.

Ren appeared in the room with a table and two chairs, as though the furniture had always belonged there.

"Food?" Ren asked.

Tengen looked at him, then at the chair. He was still sitting low on a futon.

"A chair would be appreciated."

The ground shifted. A chair rose beneath Tengen, lifting him from the futon in the most awkward possible way.

Ren sat across from him and placed a cup on the table.

"Drink."

Tengen looked into the cup.

The liquid appeared to be wine. It was not wine.

The moment he tasted it, something slid into his soul. It was foul and nourishing at the same time, like swallowing a graveyard that had learned to heal. Fragments of souls dissolved inside him. His body rejected it. His spirit craved more.

Tengen's hand tightened around the cup.

Ren watched him. "Not to your taste? I chose it specially."

Tengen forced himself to set the cup down.

Devil, he thought.

Aloud, he said, "What do you want to know?"

"Divine Kingdom Cult."

Tengen did not try to hide it. The gap between them was too clear. When he looked at Ren, he saw countless hungry shadows crawling before a throne, and himself among them.

"Their leader is my old body," Tengen said. "Cast-off flesh from a previous cycle. It should have been destroyed. Instead, it gained consciousness and escaped."

Ren placed a mirror on the table.

Tengen's gaze changed.

"Yata Mirror."

"Tell me."

"One of the Three Sacred Treasures. Part of Yamata no Orochi's power was sealed in it."

Ren waited.

Tengen understood the silence and continued.

"There is also a legend. If the three treasures are gathered, Yamata no Orochi can be summoned. The Yata Mirror, the Kusanagi Sword, and the Yasakani no Magatama."

"Anything else?"

Tengen thought harder.

"Someone once gathered all three. They tried to absorb the power and were destroyed by it. Their mind collapsed. They became little more than a killing machine."

Then Tengen realized why Ren was asking.

The higher-ups had given him the mirror.

Tengen closed his eyes. "They truly are inviting their own destruction."

"You did not know their decision?"

"Five hundred years ago, my role changed. I stopped governing the jujutsu world and became the one who maintained barriers and prevented my own evolution. The higher-ups gradually stopped reporting their decisions. Our relationship became that of a patient and his doctors."

His expression became distant.

"Past versions of me modified my soul during assimilation to escape that relationship. The current version of me does not know why."

Ren lifted his cup.

The room filled with the pale-blue lines of Sovereign Wind Array.

"Then," Ren asked, "do you want to die?"

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