Chapter 4: The One who Left Fatherhood Behind

The God-Mama Part 1

“I have been far too lenient with you, my girls,” said the woman in the swiveling chair, her breezy tone making her ice-cold words all the more frostbite-inducing.

The chair turned to reveal a woman dressed in a dark three-piece suit, a matching bow tie, and a rose pinned to her coat flap. Sprawled across her lap was a cat girl whose head she was stroking.

This was Mia ‘God-Mama’ Grand, Doña of the Hostesses of Fertility Gang and ruler of the Lower West Side of Orario. The catgirl being stroked was Anya ‘the Brainless’ Fromel, as famous for forgetting customer orders as she was for her brother issues.

Her fellow catgirl, giving Anya a jealous look, was Chole ‘the Black Pussy’ Rollo, and the human woman pulling her up by the scruff of her neck to keep her from leaping onto their Doña’s lap was Lunoire ‘Black Fisting’ Faust.

Despite the former being a renowned assassin and the latter a distinguished bounty hunter, they were known, respectively, for their fondness for little boys’ tushies and for their inability to find a husband.

Yet these three women were not the recipients of God-Mama’s damning words. No—the unlucky souls in question were the kneeling Ryuu ‘Windwoman’ Lion, the deadliest hitwoman of the West Side and personal bodyguard to Syr ‘Principessa’ Flova, heiress to the HoF Gang, who knelt beside her on the ground. 

Despite her elven best friend’s silent pleadings for her to show regret and humility, Syr lifted her head and met her mother figure’s eyes with defiant resolve.

∼Fin∼

Director’s Notes: Part 2 will be released next week. P.S. Part 3 does not exist.

Arc 1: The Cursed Hero 

Chapter 4: The One who Left Fatherhood Behind

Jin POV

“...Pardon me, Jin. I am unsure whether I heard you correctly or if my ears were not properly healed,” said Lego, blinking owlishly.

“Don’t let Heith hear you questioning her healing capability.” Lego froze in fear, then relaxed when the professional fury of a nurse didn’t come raining down on him. “And yeah, you heard me right the first time—you’re basically the elven version of my father.”

“Your father was dubbed the Sorcerer Killer?” asked the elf knight, a disturbed note in his voice. The poor soul must have been wondering just how many sorcerers one needed to put down to earn such a grisly moniker.

“Yup” I popped the ‘p’ “He earned that title for two reasons: One he was born with a condition called “Heavenly Restriction” which stripped him of cursed energy—” my clenched fist shone sickly green with raw CE, “—and cursed technique—” my tired hounds stirred their heads above my shadow, “—in exchange for overwhelming physical strength.”

Lego’s upper body shot ramrod straight, his hands clutching the blankets hard enough to nearly tear them apart. My earlier comment about his predator-like, analyzing eyes felt truer now than it had even during our fight. 

He looked like he was on the verge of begging me to tell him more.

I continued for his sake, lest he begin to foam at the mouth. “He was judged on the day he was born for the crime of lacking cursed energy—not with a small amount like those who can’t use jujutsu, but none at all. He couldn’t even perceive cursed spirits, or as you call them, monsters. For that, he was shunned by our clan: a cripple among athletes, a blight among blessings, and a monkey amongst heroes.”

“But despite their prejudice, the Zenins were not idiots. They understood what a majestic monster my father could become; they just didn’t realize that they would never be able to control him. Never in their wildest dreams could they have imagined that the power of the man they once mocked as a failure would one day surpass that of their entire clan combined. ”

I shook my head at my kin’s stupidity. “I mean, what did they expect would happen? You throw a guy in a hole filled with cursed spirits and force him to survive until he learns to feel their damned presence—and expect him not to loathe your guts?”
 

“The fear, rage, and hatred that must have swelled within my father after countless hours of assault by beings his senses couldn’t even grasp was humiliating enough. But to have his own family jeer from above, mocking his inability to channel his negative emotions into even the most basic technique—that was like twisting a salt-covered knife in his metaphorical wounds.”

“As opposed to twisting it in his numerous literal wounds?” The dry commentary from Heith made me bark out a laugh.

I broke my gaze from the grim Lego and glanced around the infirmary to see that Heith and her healers, along with the patients they were treating, were just as invested in my father’s tragic backstory as the copyright-law-straddling elf beside me. 

Honestly, can't even blame 'em. There can never be enough Papa Toji glazing, even if his day job is going around and beating the shit out of teenagers.

Wait—one of them wasn’t part of either of the two groups! Svar’s fellow guard from the gate was sitting there on a stool looking like a kid being read a bedtime story by his parents. 

Then who the hell is guarding the front gate if this slacker’s here listening to the Gege Akutami rendition of the Beauty and the Beast. The beast being Toji, the beauty being Mamaguro and me, finally living my childhood fantasy of being Gaston's hair. 

That ponytail is just that magnificent, you almost forget about the dude’s rampant misogyny. 

Which makes me wonder—do I have a hair fetish? That’d explain why I spent an entire month trying to break up with my ex despite being unable to tolerate her for more than a millisecond, just because of that sexy french bob she rocked.

I resumed, graciously louder this time for the unwanted—but not unwelcome—audience. “The second reason he earned his alias was what he did with that power. After tiring of the endless chores the Zenin Clan foisted on him, he left his ancestral compound and for years lived as the deadliest contract killer in recorded history.”

“From the halls of Jujutsu Headquarters to the mountain valleys of the Ainu, it was whispered that there was no living soul more proficient in the murder of jujutsu practitioners than the infamous Sorcerer Killer. He butchered thousands—deserving or not—then ate, drank, and gambled his earnings away, and repeated the cycle again and again…until he met my mother.”

An excited shriek cut through the tension in the air. I snapped my head over to the source, to find Svar, his neck as good as new, sitting next to his fellow guard. He slapped a hand over his mouth, eyes wide, then waved frantically with the other, motioned for me to continue.

....Okay, so moving on from whatever that was.

I cleared my throat, trying to reclaim the heavy ambiance that had been lost, “As I was saying: After meeting my beautiful, intelligent, and kind mother, my old man was completely fucking besotted—pardon my French. He even decided to ditch the assassin’s life for a shot at domestic bliss.” 

“Hell, the buff bum was the one to give me my original name, Megumi—which means ‘Blessing’ in my language—because he wanted me to have a life abundant with all the blessings denied to him.”

I let those words linger long enough for my mom’s stans, and their leader Svar (by virtue of being the loudest), to cheer in joy. How the hell did that woman get stans off a few seconds of me talking about her? 

“However, this joy was not to last. Unfortunately—though surprisingly more so for some individuals—" I side-eyed Svar, who flipped me off in response, “—my mom died not long after I was born. Probably the work of one of Daddy Dearest’s numerous enemies.”

I heard a series of devastated gasps echo through the infirmary, the most anguished of which came from Sati. The hospital-gown-clad Amazon leapt off the bed she’d been resting on and squeezed herself into the space between Svar and the other guard, dragging along a chair she seemed to conjure from God knows where.

She leveled a wrathful glare at me, as if judging me for daring to inform her that my own mother died before I ever got to know her. 

At this point, I just threw my hands in the like I definitely did care about the blatant personality shifts of my former opponents. “Okay, this is just getting ridiculous! What the hell happened between the time Lego and I were clobbering each other and now, that you all went from being Freya’s douche division to halfway tolerable indiv—”

—For the second time this hour, I was backhanded like a NFL player’s wife! My head snapped to the side again, the pain blooming hotter than before, this time on my right cheek. I was about to blurt something self-incriminating again but my words were literally choked off by an iron grip wrapped around my throat.

I felt a chill run up my spine as I locked eyes with my attacker—Heith. Her gaze was dead and piercing as she said, “I will warn you only once: never again use our Goddess’s name in vain. If you continue down the path of unrepentance, the fury that will descend upon you will be most justified.”

The nurse from hell turned her frosty glare to the rest of the room. “As for them, I performed… unique sedation methods, if you will. With an old experimental potion I brewed alongside Lona, my fellow member of the Andhrímnir.”

The woman who Heith gestured to ignored both my plight and her leader’s casual confession of slipping the mickey to her patients as if it were an everyday occurrence. She just calmly ground some freaky-looking plants in a mortar.

“We don’t use it regularly, since it functions more as a happy drug than a proper sedative. But it can have its uses.” She eyed a few patients—Sati in particular—as she continued. "Specifically, it can be very effective at shutting up injury-loving asshats who already annoy me enough with complaints about the executives, Horn, and even myself for ‘monopolizing’ Lady Freya’s attention. But then…”

Alas, she brought her gaze back in my poor old direction. “...You had to show up, with your peculiar abilities catching our Lady’s eye, and now a failed midnight experiment is the only thing keeping me from committing mass murder on my whiny patients!”

Her grip on my neck suddenly loosened, and my ass roughly greeted the infirmary floor. The pink-haired fury loomed over me “But blaming you for issues caused by others would not be just. Punishing you for your own transgressions, and teaching you not to repeat them, however, is acceptable. So, what did we learn about addressing our Lady Freya in the future?”

“Aye, fucking Yai Yai.” I groused as I stood back up, rubbing my neck for pain relief and patting my ass just to make sure my cake wasn’t damaged. A broken neck you can live with, but my perfect backside being damaged? 

That would be a Mortal-Kombat worthy Fatality.

I shot a stink eye at my traitorous friend. “Thanks for nothing, you pointy-eared bitch,” Lego glanced at the fingerprints still on my neck and then at Nurse Asphyxiation—who was a level higher than him—and gave me a helpless shrug.

Your basic survival skills may keep you alive for longer, Lego, but they will not make your new, awesome best friend look upon you with favour.

I prepared my pride for the hit it was about to receive and looked toward Heith, who was tapping her foot impatiently for my answer. “I learned not to mouth off about Fre—Lady Freya!” I hastily corrected myself when the demonic white mage cocked her brow. “Yeah, let's make that: never mouth off against Lady Freya…until I can take down a certain pink haired witch.”

The last part did not sound as good as it did in my head, mostly because my voice was still rasping from its introduction to Heith's right hand. But that was as much ground as I was willing to give. Take it or leave it, you overworked cousin of a ginger.  

“Less than I hoped, but better than I expected. You have already placed yourself in the upper echelons of this Familia. Now make the point you wanted to make with Lego and get that ass you were touching so reverently to the Garden. Our Goddess awaits,” Heith said, her tone annoyed yet laced with a strange satisfaction.

She moved her staff over my head, healing my stinging cheeks in a green flash that disappeared as soon as it came. By Hestia’s holy boob ribbon, I so badly want to learn RCT. Maybe today is my lucky day, and my next opponent will gut me Teen-Gojo style.

Something about that last thought feels like it should be alarming, but for the life of me, I can't figure out why.

Also, really? Is the bar for reaching the so-called upper echelons really that low? Well, considering that as Head Healer, Heith has to endure the excruciating task of dealing with the hardass that is Hedin every time she turns in paperwork… that must be agony.

Have you experienced true suffering until you’ve had a perfectionist white-elf king double-checking your budgeting reports?

“We were at the part where my mom died, weren’t we?” I inquired. Lego answered with an eager nod. I sat down next to my elven besto friendo to keep our conversation private. I’m not naming names, but I am naming groups—such as the potpourri of pill-poppers being herded by the healers to their beds. 

“As you can imagine, the death of the woman he’d devoted himself fully to made Papa Toji spiral. After a respectable period of inconsolable grief, the bastard went back to his murdering and squandering ways. He didn’t even bother raising me anymore, pawning me off to one girlfriend and then another. I got an adopted sister I love out of it, so it wasn’t all bad.”

Lego, who obviously saw himself in Toji, looked crushed by his counterpart’s bum-ass ways. This really goes to show the positive impact that a childhood with a loving family along with a adulthood with a living wife can bring to a man’s personality.

“After a while, he even stopped showing up. From what I learned, he even forgot—I shit you about this not—that he even had a son. But not before selling me to the Zenin Clan, the same psychos that fucked over his entire life. I’ll give him some credit and acknowledge that he did the deed thinking since I had the Ten Shadows, I’d be treated well there.”

But still… my guy, what the shit?

I felt like I should phrase the next part more kindly, but I knew if I did, the point I’d been building up to—ever since I compared Lego to my father—wouldn’t land as well. And that’s despite the numerous obstacles in the way—some coked-up, others outfitted as nurse. “Anywho, how he remembered my existence is a story on its own. See, he was contracted to kill this teenage girl who was guarded by two very strong teenagers, right?”

“After stalking them for days, sending wave after wave of assassins to tire them out, nearly murdering one guard, killing the girl and her maid, and then gloating to the other guard—whom he’d already beaten unconscious—that despite their blessings, a ‘monkey’ like him still defeated them.”

“Then he remembered something: earlier, his long-time handler had asked me how I was. He linked that memory with the “blessings” line he’d just dropped. Bada bum, bada bing—Daddy suddenly remembers he left to get milk, and somehow decides he preferred some random store over his kid.”

“Then why do you sound like you still love him?” piped up Lego from his metaphorical shell, which he probably built out of the shards of his broken dreams about his idol of five minutes.

“Well, Brooding Elf-san, that is an easily answered question. He’s fucking awesome. You’ve got to be something else to kill an innocent girl and look like the Japanese version of a nonchalant dreadhead after it.” 

Lego looked unamused at me making light of Riko getting sniped with a handgun. 

I laughed “Okay, for real, he loved me at the end of the day. His head was just too fucked up to express it right.”

The tightness in Lego’s face loosened a tad as he sank deep in thought. Eventually, he let out a helpless sigh. “I still cannot fathom your father’s rationale—or lack thereof. Bring your tale to a close, swiftly, if you please.”

Heh. foolish elf. Papa Toji’s bum ass ways are beyond your mortal mind. 

“Okay, let’s get back on track. Papa Toji didn’t enjoy the grocer’s life for long, though. The guard he nearly killed, Satrou Gojo, was—like me—the interior of one the signature techniques of the Big Three Clans, arguably the strongest. On the brink of death, he figured out how to reverse his cursed energy, creating positive energy that makes regrowing limbs like child’s play.”

I ignored the feeling of a certain vacation-needing nurse boring a hole in my back. I bet I was bumped up a few ranks on her list just the mere possibility she wouldn’t need to heal me in the future. 

“Now, as you can imagine, Gojo-sensei was—Small spoiler: Gojo adopted me and became my teacher later, but we'll touch on that later.” The elf looked like he wanted to touch it right now but it's my story, bitch. I do what I want. 

"Gojo-sensei was pretty pissed about his friend/charge along with her low-key hot maid getting 86-ed. On top of that, the girl had been destined since birth to be the vessel for this millennia-old immortal sorcerer who created and maintains the barriers stretching tens of thousands of kilometres long across our country from beneath our school, suppressing all cursed spirits within them." 

Lego kept mouthing words like ‘Immortal’ and ‘school’ to himself in a dazed manner, so I just had to compound his flabbergastation…I think that's a word. “Oh my God, now that I think about it, Sensei should’ve been way more scared about the dead vessel bit than the dead friend and hot maid bit. Really seemed like the merger not happening was going to be a bigger issue.” 

I flashed my distressed friend a Hisoka-worthy smirk. “If it helps you relax, just imagine Tengen, the immortal, as being like our Ouranos. Except back in the Heian era, she was a really hot girl. So that makes our mysterious spiritual leader better than yours.” 

A laugh bubbled past Lego’s lips at the comparison. “Please, for the love of all that is sacred, do not let the Guild’s Pig hear you diminish Lord Ouranos in favour of this… Lady Tengen.” He looked like he was picturing me doing exactly what he’d just warned me against, and the hilarious sight was actively warming his heart.

After his chuckles died down, Lego pulled up his knees and wrapped his arms around them, resting his chin at an angle on one. He looks like he's in a better mood now, which means that I can finally finish the story without seeming like a dick.

I truly have grown since that fateful day—when I wouldn’t stop joking about catching my friend’s grandad doing his mother…at the man’s funeral…within earshot of his family. Probably didn’t help that I also criticised their provided refreshments for being less refreshing and more de-freshing.

“The end of our little story time explains both my adoption by Gojo-sensei and why I refer to my father in the past tense. When the albino menace, high on his newfound power, confronted my father in front of the cult that had hired his assassinating ass, their roles were reversed. This time it was my father who got dog-walked by my teacher and—wait, that wasn’t meant to sound sexual!” 

The elf used Doubtful Look. It was super effective…while the imagery was super disgusting. 

Goddamn my doujin-artist BFF’s degenerate soul. What once seemed hot to a pre-truck-kun me seemed absolutely horrendous to a post-truck-kun me. I mean what kink of freak enjoys watching their father figure drawn walking their actual father on a fucking leash?

Also, bro, you definitely did not need to put Geto crying in jealousy in the background. That shit would’ve damaged the long-ear-lobbed bastard than Yuta and Rika could dream of inflicting.

“As I was saying—how many fucking times have I said something like that today? What changed their earlier dynamic was that Gojo used positive energy to reverse the effect of his cursed technique. Then he combined the original effect and reversed effect to vaporize—and I don't mean metaphorically—a quarter of my father’s body mass, resulting in the end of the Sorcerer Killer.” 

Lego’s eyes shot wide at that, he was right to be astonished. RCT was just that busted: Satoru Gojo went from helpless with a knife wound in the brain to tearing my Father’s ass up on his all on h—goddamn it! I did it again, didn't I?

Why do I keep making things between my father figures sound so dirty?

“As a point of comparison, think of it like turning Nue’s electricity generation being reversed into electricity absorption. Then you combine the generation and absorption to create their Hollow Technique, which would be converting regular electric currents into cursed currents.”

I resisted the urge to rub my hands together and giggle maniacally. I can’t wait to head out to sea in the middle of a storm—Nue sucking the lightning and Elephant gulping the salt water, both reversing it into cursed electricity and cursed water and then…I’ll do something cool, I guess?

I haven’t worked out what exactly, but trust me—it’ll be glorious. Y’all might as well call me Susanno, ‘cause I’ll be whipping up storms just as easily as I bully my sister. As was my right as the only son with a younger sibling.

“Finally, the reason I didn’t get trafficked off to the Zenins was that my father, offhandedly, mentioned my existence to Gojo. Half the reason Gojo took me in was guilt—it's kinda hard to ignore a kid whose father you literally murdered. Never mind that I hadn’t seen the man in so long I couldn’t even remember his face or voice. The other half was pure selfishness: the blindfolded glutton wanted someone with the potential to match him, just so he wouldn’t feel lonely at the top.”

I sniffed arrogantly and said, “And while I don’t like to toot my own horn—” my sole audience member snorted at my bold-faced lie, “—I may just have the only Cursed Technique that can actually rival the Limitless and Six Eyes combo.”

Said audience member raised his hand to indicate he wanted to ask a question. What is this, kindergarten? Have my trolling ways corrupted Lego so much that he’s acting like Abridged Erwin Smith from A Slap on Titan?

“How did your father’s killer come to be your guardian, despite your purchasment-“ He hissed that last word with disgust “-by the Zenins? You were not…kipnapped, right?” 

I was about to say that of course I wasn't, but after thinking about it for more than a second, what came out was: “I mean…he kinda did. But when your choice of guardian is between Kakashi’s haughtier brother and a clan of Danzos, you gotta pick the hot albino over the cabal of child abusers.”

“I think I now understand how you turned out the way you did, considering your childhood,” said Lego, massaging his forehead at the onslaught of information I’d dumped on him.

I was about to snap back at the wearily delivered insult when it hit me—I’d done it. After all the trials, all the tribulations, I’d actually finished my story.

I jumped off the hospital bed, arms flung wide. “I FUCKING DID IT! I finished my gods forsaken story! Fuck all y’all, I did it! ROB be praised!” My roar rattled the infirmary, and I ducked just in time to avoid the glass of water Heith hurled at my head.

Probably not my smartest move—praising a different god while standing in the home of a goddess whose zealots worship through violence. 

When I turned to gauge Lego’s reaction, I found him…clapping. Mockingly.

Lego clapped…and clapped…and just kept clapping. “Jin, my friend, you are quite literally the worst storyteller in the history of storytellers. You have spent more time arguing with your audience and lost in your own head than you have in actually spinning a tale.” 

The clapping slowed, then stopped, along with Lego’s smile. “Now kindly get on with the moral of the story before I decide to punch you for comparing me to your waste of a father.” he snarled the last word. 

This must be what it feels like your nice friend finally snaps—like after you’ve gotten him arrested for vandalizing a teacher’s house one too many times.

…Still, calling my storytelling skills the worst in history feels a little uncalled for. I’d say they are at least sub-par, thank you very much!

“Alright, alright, alright,” I drawled in my best southern accent as I plopped my ass back down on the bedside. “The moral’s simple: your body is like my father’s, but not exactly the same. Sure, you’ve both been treated by your so-called superior kin—the Elves and the Zenin—like pineapple pizza in Sicily: with scorn and disgust. But unlike Toji, you didn’t get any physical boost from being born magic-less.”

Right on cue, my friend's stomach growls at the mention of pizza. I ignored it. If I ask Mama Mia to make pineapple pizza, I’m not sure if she’d indulge me… or execute me for crimes against the Eternal City. 

Probably the latter, given how aggressively Italian her name is.

“You’re more like a less abrasive Maki—my cousin, who was born with a similar condition to Toji’s.” He cocked an eyebrow at the One Piece-style sudden name-drop of a tragic relative mid flashback. “She went through everything my father did, only worse—firstly, because she was born a girl; secondly, because born a girl with a twin sister.” 

“Which meant her cursed energy was so meager she couldn’t see cursed spirits, yet just large enough to grant her a modicum of Toji’s power. And this, in a clan where mottos like ‘The sin of the insignificant is the ignorance of strength‘ and ‘Any woman who can't walk three steps behind a man should get stabbed in the back and die’ were basically lullabies". Lego jerked his head back as if my words had bitch-slapped him across the face.

In a city where the Captain of the once-dominant Familia was the Hera Familia’s Level 9 Empress—and where the current dominant Familias were both headed by goddesses and filled with numerous high-level female adventurers—such beliefs must have sounded all the more absurd.

“She turned out like you too, a little more tsundere than ojoudere, but mostly the same. Instead of going full murder-hobo like Pops, she was my senior at Jujutsu Tech by a year and aimed to be a First-Grade Sorcerer. She wanted to prove her detractors wrong about a cursed energy-less woman being unable to reach such heights.” 

“Even though her sister, Mai, kinda resented her for dragging her into sorcery work, Maki still loved her. So overall, I’d call Maki the weaker but superior—and debatebly hotter—version of Zenin Toji.”

“Hott— what?! Your cousin!? That is disgusting!” he screeched, his face twisted with scandalized outrage.

“You underestimate the Zenin’s biologically ingrained disposition toward incest. I was Mai’s first crush." My friend’s horrified face turned slightly green, “Though recently of recent change the love of my life changed to nobody. It used to be my adopted sister, but we were not blood related, so I’m not sure it counts.” 

“I regret ever meeting you,” Lego muttered, his eyes glazed as though staring across a thousand yards and beyond.

“There was also Naoya, who openly perved on Maki and Mai—and he’s their first cousin. But he’s a sexist piece of shit, so let’s not count him. I’m also not entirely sure about the sexual preferences of the only being I acknowledge as my brother.”

I fixed Lego with a toothy smirk, locking eyes with. “That would be the worm cursed spirit that carried my father’s arsenal for assassinating teenage girls.”

As I snickered with the glee of a fiend, Lego wore the expression of a fat kid who had just discovered that Santa Claus was real—only to also learn Father Christmas happened to be a kiddie diddler.

“What was the point of this long-winded tale, Jin?” His voice sagged with defeat. “Are you trying to warn me against challenging you again? To keep me from the dungeon? Do you fear I will turn out like your father—that if I were to lose my wife, I too would fall so dishonorably? Like the Sorcerer Kill—”

A burst of roaring laughter tore out of me, cutting him off. “No! Hell no, even. What kind of lame-ass loser do you think I am? No, the problem with you is simple: you wanted to be loved. You don’t actually want to be a magic user—you just want their position. It’s understandable, sure… but it’s also a bitch move.

I shifted on the bed, crossed my legs and propped my head against my fist. Arsenic-green cursed energy flared in my eyes as I stared straight past Lego's gaze into his soul. If I was going to steal Sukuna’s speech to Jojo, I might as well steal his pose too.

“What the hell do you even have to be jealous of? You’re a Level 3 Adventurer of the strongest Familia in the world. That kind of position comes with wealth, fame, and privilege. You’ve got the talent and work ethic enough to keep leveling up. And I haven’t even touched on the rest—pretty as hell, grew up with a loving family, and married a hot pirate girl.” 

“The one chink on your needlessly expensive, extravagant armour is that you’re an elf without magic. And that one chink is all the weaklings and idiots need to claw their way into your head. Who cares what those wastes of space think?” 

The hand I wasn’t using to prop up my head unfurled, revealing a pool of cursed energy— arsenic green, my strange new default. I shaped it into the silhouette of a towering, muscle-bound man, a chain-bladed weapon snaking from a worm-like creature draped across his body, all of it poised atop a mountain of severed heads.

“My father could’ve—and would’ve—slaughtered every last Zenin on his own if he wanted to. And still, those wrinkly cunts in the Gojo and Kamo Clan would’ve mocked him as nothing more than a monkey who can't use Jujutsu."

I let out a huff of exasperation. “That’s another reason why Maki is superior to my father: she only ever wanted to prove herself to herself. He, on the other hand, gave away the right to judge whether or not he was worth a damn to the same people who destroyed his life.”

“If you internalize the prejudices of those lesser than you, or who will soon be lesser than you, then you really are what they call you: a fucking monkey” 

The image in my hand shifted again, this time into the form of a knight with sword and shield, flower petals drifting in their wake. They carved a path through countless foes, felling a chain-wielding amazon and a dwarf whose voice crackled like static—each challenger collapsing with their head left at the knight’s feet.

"You really should have just cut everything down, sliced everything down to shreds, without giving it a thought until you finally reached Ottar himself. Even so, I barely managed to defeat you".

“You fought like a true warrior should, without quarter…for most of the fight that is. You could have turned my victory into a draw, taken the damage to your throat so long as you denied me victory. But instead, you held back. You didn’t punch my ribs to dust. You let me savour victory, while you bore the loss with a smile, content neither of us suffering a great injury.”

Then the knight was beset on all sides by the summons of a wizard whose hair resembled my own: twin wolves, a coiled anaconda, a vast bird of prey. The knight cut them all down. But instead of striking their master, he offered him a hand. The wizard drew a curved sword—and took the knight’s head.

“Why would you do that? You didn’t fear lasting wounds, Hieth’s spell could bring us back from the brink of death in a green flash. No, it was because you didn’t want to risk losing a potential friend you had just found.”

“When you find someone who respects you despite your lack of talent in the arcane—and especially if they are on your level (metaphorically in my case since I don’t have a falna)—you cling to them. If I had dismissed you as a cripple in the garden today, then I would not have another opponent after you.”

I snapped my fist shut, snuffing out the cursed light show, and in its absence the vulnerability in the elf's amber eyes stood out all the more, raw and unguarded. I slid off the bed, and went about straightening out the Freya Familia uniform I’d been forced into, brushing away the creases left from sitting down.

Without turning to face him, I dealt the final blow. “I’ve fought middle-school wannabe gangsters, fellow sorcerers, psycho curse users and horrific cursed spirits for years. As of today I can also add three adventures to that... and you were still one of the better ones I fought.".

After smoothing the final wrinkle from my sleeve, I slipped my hands into the surprisingly snug pockets. "So I tell you this not just as your friend, but as a fellow warrior: never deprive yourself of that hunger. Because the moment you do, you’ve chosen a place amongst the trash—and I can't have my friend, my soon-to-be party member doing shit like that.” 

When I finally looked back at him, his eyes had hardened with resolve and understanding. “Stand proud. You are strong."

Lego remained silent for a heavy moment and spoke with a low, blank tone. “...So in other words, if anyone ever tries to give me… shit, as you would say, I should tell them they have two options: one, stand your ground and die; or two, tell them something to the effect of ‘Move your bitchin’ bitch-ass, over, bitch.’”

Jin.exe crashed for a second at hearing such profanity leave his friend’s mouth. As I sputtered to form a response a dazzling smile had spread over Lego’s face—clearly proud that he’d left me speechless. I eventually gave up on my feeble attempts at a comeback and matched his smile with a smirk of my own. 

There was no need for further words. Lego understood my challenge for what it was. Next time we fought, he’d have to make sure the only quarter involved was the portion of body mass either of us was about to lose. In return, I had to grind hard enough that it would be me deciding whether the match ended in a draw.

My last two opponents had oozed nothing but douchebaggery. Lego, on the other hand, started off courteous and then went full best-friend mode. He was a true Adventurer, someone who’d clearly worked his ass off to make up for his handicap, and I was going to give him the respect he deserved.

There really is something special about making friends with someone you were recently fighting to near death. 

Speaking of special, Freya—and her special needs in the romance department— is gonna be hopping like Bell’s moniker when she finds out me and Besto Friendo are gonna party up together. Honestly, it was far too easy to snag such an elite party mate. All I had to do was not be a magical racist...well, not a complete one.

I mean, sure, I’m obviously gonna call anyJujutsu-less mortal who I don’t like “monkey.” But that doesn’t mean I’m gonna play the Geto-route. No matter how fine that man’s fit is, or how much genocidal monk swag he’s got!

I turned to face the exit as I neared the threshold when staring into a man’s eyes should be considered gay (not that there would be anything wrong with that, if he wasn’t married). On my way out of  the infirmary, I subtly gave the middle finger to Heith, only to immediately lower it when she cocked an eyebrow in warning. 

That’s when Lego yelled out, “Good luck, Jin!”

I paused mid-step, adjusted my Freya Familia uniform with one hand, and even summoned Kuro without hangsigns for for maximized aura farming. Shooting Lego the briefest of side-eyes, I said “Thanks, best buddy, but honestly…”

…I won’t need it.”

First and foremost, I’d like everyone to know that I am sick as shit. To clarify my earlier statement, I am “sick” in the sense that I’m awesome (which I am, despite what my high school bullies said), but also in the sense that I am actually ill.

I was up all night with a sore throat, searing headache, and runny nose, all because of some dumbass bitch who decided to send her kid (who had the flu) to my little brother’s school. That led to it being spread to my brother, then to me, and now to the rest of my family. I heard my mom say they were closing the school ’cause half the kids and their families are also sick now, all thanks to one stupid-ass woman.

To sum up the other stuff: to the people who noticed I tried to tone down his ramblings and references—kudos to you. They’re still there, but as the series progresses, I hope to go the TFS route and make any references land in very good taste. I tried to shape Lego’s character arc somewhere between Toji/Maki and Welf in terms of writing. Like the former two, he was ostracized for his disability, but like the latter, he needed a wake-up call basically telling him to stop moping and just march forward.

And to all the Svar and Sati enjoyers, this is their confirmed last appearance before their brutal deaths in the next arc. And don’t think I’m joking when I say brutal.