Still not a story! - I'm probably going to end up writing a mini prologue arc and seeing how that goes over before making a final choice.
In the meantime, voila!
Here's a question for the real go-getters in life:
What do two total supernaturally inclined strangers do when they've just fought and vanquished a monster that looked like it just crawled out of the third act of a particularly trashy horror flick?
Obviously, they go to the nearest seven-eleven for a late-night snack.
No, seriously.
Half an hour after Percy lands his first Black Flash (not that he knows what that is yet) and awakens his innate technique (doesn't know what that is either, but the sea is roaring in his veins, a primordial siren call straight from the soul, and he freaking revels in it) he finds himself sitting across from the man whose kill he'd stolen.
The man- Masamichi Yaga, apparently - cradles a steaming cup of coffee in his own grip and stares back at him the same way somebody would stare at an unexploded pipe bomb.
Oh, his expression is more placid and neutral than worried, but Percy isn't blind to the undercurrent of tension running through his frame, or the way he can just about sense his apprehension like it's a tangible thing.
The man is clearly wary of him - It probably has something to do with his own recently awakened power - or the fact that he can barely stop himself from grinning a little too maniacally for comfort.
His having smoked the mutant abomination right in front of him probably plays a big part in it as well.
Percy tries to smile, all polite and reassuring, but it doesn't help much given he only gets a barely perceptible frown in return.
"Are you a curse user?"
He blinks when Yaga finally speaks.
"Excuse me?"
"Are you a curse user?" The man says again, gravely and with heavy intent, before his face goes flat when Percy answers him.
"I have no idea what that is."
…
"What?"
"I have no idea what that is," Percy repeats, entirely truthful and even adds a little shrug for emphasis.
Yaga seems to take a solid five seconds to process that, and then his expression starts to flicker, just a little.
"A clan-born sorcerer, then? Or affiliated with one?"
"Sorceror?"
The fresh heck was this?
There's something incredulous to the rise of Yaga's brow when he sees Percy's genuine confusion. When he goes to speak, some of the quiet apprehension he's been trying laces his voice - only Percy gets the impression that it's suddenly there for an entirely different reason than before.
"Do the words Jujutsu Sorcery mean anything at all to you?"
He sounds desperately hopeful for a positive answer too, so naturally Percy crushes said hope into teeny, tiny little fragments with all the grace of a bulldozer.
"Should they?"
If he had to label the expression that monetarily flashes across Yaga's face at that answer, it'd probably be something along the line of 'oh god no.'
Then he tips back his head and pinches the bridge of his nose. Percy just knows that he's withholding the urge to start cursing like a sailor.
"Right." The man straightens and looks back at him, something determined. "I wasn't planning to sleep tonight anyway. From the beginning - Let's start with the curse you just exorcised."
"Huh?"
The what now?
...
By the time Percy gets the down low on shamanism, modern jujutsu sorcery, curses, and the true nature of this new world of his - and man, wasn't that some Harry Potter-flavoured nuttery right there - it's well past midnight.
For lack of anything else to argue with, he accepts it all at face value.
Yaga had seemed plenty relieved when he didn't panic and lose his cool halfway through his explanation, probably pinning it on his clear experience in dealing with curses before that, and Percy didn't bother correcting him - he was half-right anyway.
Besides, why would he even freak out?
Secret societies, mostly invisible and undetectable monsters, and a whole hidden world?
Please.
That's just business as usual.
Still, it's not all sunshine and rainbows.
The cashier who'd been sitting in his booth and dedicatedly ignoring them both with a pair of headphones over his ears is dead to the world by the time they're, head lolled back in sleep, Yaga doesn't look far off from that either.
Moreover, he looks a little miserable.
Or maybe that's just him what the... jujutsu sorcerer, apparently - is like when he's fully burned out. He radiates an aura that all but screams how utterly done he is with everything, like the archetypical salaryman who's realized how bleak and soulless the next twenty years of his life are going to be.
Rough stuff, that.
"You've been exorcising curses since you were a child."
"Yeah."
"On your own, with no instruction past your instincts."
"Yes."
"Why?"
Percy shrugged again.
"They made everyone sick and hurt, and I'm good with my fists. Do I need any better reasons?
"...I see."
He sounds so tired, Percy's actually starting to get a little worried.
"Is that a problem?"
"No," Yaga grumbles. "But the report I'll have to make to headquarters and the inevitable interrogations that'll follow very much will be."
"Interrogations?"
"Nothing to be concerned about."
Given that he looks like a man being sent off to the gallows, Percy thinks it's absolutely something to be concerned about, but he chooses not to argue the point.
"Do you have to report me to your higher-ups?" Percy asks, honestly curious. "I don't think I've done anything that goes against your way of doing things, so why bother?"
And what would that mean for him, he thinks but doesn't ask. Yaga seems to peak up on what goes unsaid anyway.
"I have to." The man frowns again. "Your cursed energy... it's like nothing I've ever felt before. Almost fathomless, far more than any other active sorcerer or student I know of bar maybe one, and he's the heir to a major clan. That's where that kind of innate potential is most often found. It's a wonder none of the Windows assigned to Tokyo have picked up on you yet, but that won't last, and your very existence is going to garner much attention... and not all of it good."
Well.
Wasn't that ominous?
"In any case." He continues brusquely. "I assume you're not going to stop hunting curses after tonight?"
"Of course not."
Exterminating the things was basically a public service at this point. Now that he knows they're literally made up of all emotions foul and dangerous, he's going to redouble his efforts to stamp out every last one in sight.
It's a matter of personal ethics - and also, he admits to himself, a damn good rush.
"I thought so. Then it's for the best that I submit your registration personally. It'll help streamline the process."
Percy blinks at the non sequitur.
"Ah," He says, then he processes what was just said and leans back a little. "Sorry, Masamichi-san, but what was that about registration?"
"Registration for your enrollment in the Tokyo Metropolitan Curse Technical College, of course. If you're going to be exorcising curses, then you'll learn to do it the right way." Yaga fixes him with a stern look. "Pack your bags. You're going to school."
Percy pales.
Ah, hell.
...
By the time Yaga gets matters sorted, it's two days later and between them and missions that can't be sourced elsewhere, he's managed a collective eight hours of sleep.
His wife is going to murder him, assuming the stress doesn't do him at first.
Just as he'd expected, submitting Jackson's initial assessment to headquarters had gone off like a grenade in a house made of matches.
The powers that be were furious at this apparent oversight: How had a boy of no respectable origin with so much apparent power managed to float under the radar for fifteen years?
Answer: Who the hell knew?
Such staggering cursed energy and potential going undetected was an operational disaster that lives would be ruined for in retaliation - and the overbearing clans hadn't even gotten involved yet, though no one was holding their breath on it staying that way.
Of course, as soon as the higher-ups are done raging at their grunts for general incompetence, they rounded on Yaga for not bringing the boy in immediately to be sealed until such a time as an investigation was launched and a decision was made.
Because kidnapping was clearly the best solution here, never mind the fact that Jackson could manipulate his cursed energy with enough proficiency that, despite the significant gap in skill, Yaga would have had to struggle to corral him without significant collateral.
No, he had better hills to die on.
Yaga had taken the boy's number, marked down his address after escorting him home, and impressed on him the importance of staying put until Yaga personally came to pick him up.
No point in risking other elements getting their hands on him - Overzealous sorcerors, clan representatives, or god forbid curse-users.
He'd only gotten a carefree grin in return.
"Hai, Masamichi-san"
The gesture is entirely amicable, the intent behind it honest, and yet...
Yaga knew right then and there, with a certainty that he could feel deep in his very being, that Jackson was going to be trouble.
...
A month later, Percy Jackson is enrolled, joining a class of first years, and Yaga dares to breathe a sigh of relief in the confines of his office.
There. His duty is done.
He can wash his hands of the matter until the next year over for the most part, substitute classes he'll be forced to supervise notwithstanding.
Maybe he'll even take a vacation to commemorate the success.
That resolve lasts for about an hour before the first-year teacher Hora Shoji bursts in without so much as a knock, disturbing him mid-cursed corpse creation and destabilising the entire process. The cursed energy that had been building in the straw puppet loses structure and disperses.
He growls at the failure - and then turns to the glare at the fool, who looks like he's just sprinted across the grounds to reach him.
"What?"
"It's - It's..." He takes a wheezing, steadying breath. "The Jackson boy and the Gojo Heir!"
Yaga pales.
He follows the frazzled second grade back to his classroom at a dead sprint, sliding to a halt only long enough to throw the sliding door open and fling himself inside.
Just as he'd feared, It's an utter shitshow.
There are four first-year students present this year.
Geto Suguru - blessed with a never-before-seen ability to absorb and tame curses ad infinitum, and control them with startling efficiency.
Ieri Shoko - No innate technique, meager cursed energy, but a genius at using the reverse-curse technique she'd somehow harnessed as a child.
The two of them are positioned like spectators at a baseball match, staring wide-eyed at the confrontation going on just a few feet away from them at the center of the classroom.
There, Percy Jackson and Satoru Gojo stand so close they're nearly chest-to-chest, cursed energy roaring between them, and each looks about five seconds away from going for the other's throat.
"You're sure you want to get your ass kicked this early, weakling?" Satoru taunts with false-cheer, teeth barred and six-eyes gleaming behind his sunglasses.
"'Get my ass kicked?'"
Jackson's answering smile is every bit as fierce, and Yaga feels his blood pressure skyrocket at once.
"Nah. I'd win."
...
Percy and Gojo first impressions:
/AGRGBxs
As always, leave your comments and ideas and if you don't like it, please be courteous.
If you feel like it, please consider supporting me on Ko-fi:Firewillreign