Curse of Ignorance Ch 10
It was the middle of the day, about a week after I made that phone call. I was training as usual, working on increasing my level of familiarity with my strongest level of cursed energy reinforcement, the kind that requires my longest series of hand signs. I didn't think it was something that I would be able to pull out too often, since whoever I would be fighting would likely strive to interrupt me as I was performing my hand signs. Still, on the occasions where I was able to pull it off, I didn't want my advantage to turn into a detriment by being unused to the boost in strength I would get. That would be the worst kind of irony, the kind that got me killed. It was a weekday, so both of my parents were at work, leaving me at home alone after instructing me to go get Mrs. Fujita from next door if I needed anything.
The doorbell rang.
Hearing this, I paused my training, grabbing a towel to wipe my sweat before moving to peek through the curtains in order to get a glimpse of the person at my door. It wasn't anyone I recognized. It was a man dressed in a black suit and dark red tie. His long brown hair was tied back into a ponytail. Ordinarily, he would have been considered handsome, but that handsomeness was marred by his too-pale skin and the dark bags under his eyes, bringing to mind the image of a vampire. That, combined with the wrinkles in his clothing, suggesting that he slept in this outfit, gave the impression of a man that was once popular, but was ground down by the ever-turning corporate machine. At least, that was what my amateur detective instincts told me.
Normally, I wouldn't have opened the door to a stranger. Yet, in that moment, Mr. Amano's words came to mind. Someone would be coming by in order to deal with the suspicion I raised when battling the curse. Could this be that person?
With this in mind, I opened the door. Yet, I didn't abandon all caution. I kept the door chain on, so that if it turned out that this was not the person that Mr. Amano was referring to and was instead someone with malicious intent, they would not be able to force their way in without some effort.
"Who are you?" I called out.
The man looked at me through the crack in the doorway. "Are you Gosho Kei? Amano Ken sent me to deal with your problem."
Hearing Mr. Amano's name being brought up, I immediately felt some relief. Part of it was due to the revelation that I didn't just open the door to some random stranger, but also due to the fact that he was here to finally solve the issue that's been gnawing at the back of my mind for the past couple of days.
"Yes, that's me. I was starting to get a bit worried that you weren't coming."
"Yes, well, I was occupied with another incident when the call came, and I had to wrap things up on that end before rushing over here. May I come in? This is not the sort of conversation that should be held across a doorway."
"Right." I closed the door in order to gain enough slack to undo the door chain and reopen the door in full. I stepped to the side. "Please come in."
He stepped inside and I closed the door behind him. He took off his shoes and immediately sat himself down on the sofa by the coffee table. Seeing this, I took a seat on the armchair off to the side, since sitting shoulder-to-shoulder next to him on the sofa would be weird.
Once we were both situated, the man started speaking. "Now then, let's get started. The reason why I was sent here is due to my innate curse technique. It is called Breakup Hate"—he said the name in English for some reason—"which means Separation Hate." When he finished this sentence, an aura of what looked to be blue flames bordered by thick black ink brushstrokes burst into existence around him, before it was quickly corralled back under the skin. Goosebumps proliferated over my skin, and instinctually, I knew that I just saw this man's cursed energy flare up before my eyes. A binding vow?
He continued, "When relationships end on a bad note, it is possible for all the memories of the other party to be tainted, turning the fond nostalgia that used to be associated with them into anger and hatred. My cursed technique makes use of this, amplifying the hatred brought about by severed relationships and allowing me to harvest the cursed energy that is generated as a result for my own purposes. What I intend is for you to temporarily end your relationship with your neighbor, giving me the opportunity to amplify the negative emotions that come with this separation, drowning out the feelings of suspicion." With every statement he made, the man's cursed energy flared, only to be brought back under control.
"As you may have noticed, I have been using the binding vow Revealing One's Hand, letting you know my plans and exactly how my cursed technique works in exchange for increased amounts of energy. This is because the original form of my cursed technique only acts on the severing of romantic relationships. What I will be using today is my extension technique, which extends the scope of my technique in exchange for taking exponentially more cursed energy to activate." The pressure coming from the sheer amount of cursed energy grew from mildly uncomfortable to truly crushing. I could barely register the words that kept coming; my focus was preoccupied with making sure that I was breathing.
"With that explanation done, I have enough cursed energy to activate the technique. What I need from you, Gosho, is for you to undergo a binding vow. Vow to not communicate with your neighbor in any way for a year, and I will use my cursed technique to solve your problem. Easy, right?" He smiled in a way that was probably supposed to be reassuring, but it just emphasized the bags under his eyes, turning his appearance even more ghastly.
I would have liked to say that I had enough willpower to push through the pressure of the cursed energy in order to consider whether I really wanted to take that deal. After all, no communication at all was a very harsh condition, one complicated by the fact that being neighbors meant that our paths would inevitably cross. Unfortunately, I would be lying if I said that. The sheer amount of cursed energy, concentrated in an area so close to me was just too overwhelming. I could only agree, because to do otherwise would be to spend longer under those harrowing conditions.
I nodded. The sensations associated with the binding vow taking hold ensued, which were becoming uncomfortably familiar. Even so, I had nothing on this man. He showed no signs of being affected at all, immediately performing a short series of hand signs and muttering under his breath in tandem with his signing. I watched it all happen through unfocused eyes. A couple of moments later, the muttering and hand signs came to an abrupt stop, punctuated by a shout of "Breakup Hate!". It was both surreal and ridiculous. This man just shouted out the name of his technique as he was using it. It was something straight out of anime, which automatically made it kind of cringe when brought into the real world. I could only assume that this was yet another binding vow, and not just something that he did for the sake of his own amusement. So far, he did not seem like the type of person who would do something like that.
I set aside further speculation about why such a binding vow would be useful in favor of taking stock of my own state, now that the man seemed to be done. The pressure due to such a large amount of cursed energy accumulating in one place was gone, since it was all spent on activating the curse technique. With the pressure not taking up all of my attention anymore, it became possible to feel the deep tiredness weighing down on my entire body. It seemed like all the muscles in my body refused to do more than twitch in response to my thoughts. It's almost as if I did a really thorough full-body workout that pushed all my muscles to failure. Was I tensing my muscles subconsciously during the entire time that I was struggling under the weight of the cursed energy? I had no idea. Either way, I wasn't in any pain, which was a good sign. Beyond the weakness of my muscles, there was no other strangeness, which I thought was a bit strange in and of itself. After all, wasn't I one of the targets of the man's curse technique? Shouldn't I be feeling something as a result of it?
I tried to ask about whether the man's efforts were successful, but my tongue and jaw refused to cooperate with me. Instead of language, the only thing that left my mouth was a shapeless moaning noise. I was shot a bemused look before the man replied to what he guessed I wanted to say.
"My curse technique has successfully taken hold. With this, the problem should be solved." He produced a business card from the pocket of his suit jacket and placed it into my hand. "If you ever encounter an emergency that is suited to my particular abilities, you can contact me using the number on this card, instead of bothering Amano."
With his piece said, the man moved to put on his shoes and let himself out of the house. The door closed gently behind him.
It took a while for me to recover to the point of being able to move with great difficulty. It took so long that I was starting to genuinely fear that my parents might come home and find me unable to move. I was even starting to come up with answers to any possible questions, just in case they actually found me in that state. Why are you just laying there on the couch? I can't move. Why can't you move? My muscles are all worn out. Why are your muscles worn out? Because I was working out. Why are you working out? Because I started martial arts while in school, so I have to keep up the conditioning. Since when did your school have a martial arts club? Since forever. What's that card in your hand? What card? (I would slip the card between the couch cushions, so they would have no reason to ask that question in the first place.)
Control of my body returned starting from my extremities, starting at my hands, feet, and neck, and moving inwards through my limbs until the entirety of my body was capable of movement again, even if my muscles still felt weak. In the span of time where I had control over my hands and neck, but still was not able to move my arms or legs, I sated my curiosity about the business card that was held in my hand.
All that I needed to do was tilt my head downwards and to the side and contort my hand in order to hold the card at an angle that made it easy to read its contents. The card itself was a plain, unremarkable thing. It completely belied the fact that it came from a sorcerer belonging to the hidden side of society. Only two things were on the card, a name and a phone number. Aizen Rito. (03) XXXX-XXXX.
Some time later, I regained enough strength to be able to move around a bit. I made use of this newfound ability in order to erase any traces of Mr. Aizen being here. I locked the door and redid the chain, smoothed out the fabric of the couch cushion so there was no impression of anyone sitting there, and stashed the business card I received with my school supplies, together with the business card containing Mr. Amano's phone number. My parents don't look through my school stuff, so it was the perfect spot.
With that, I had successfully taken care of the exorcism of the curse lingering around my neighbor from start to finish, without any loose ends left to bite me in the back.
