It was night.
The moon cast pale light through the window as Riku sat in his room, the house silent. His parents were fast asleep. He stood up and looked out over the neighborhood.
'I need to deal with the curses around here… no more waiting.'
He opened his closet, grabbed a black hoodie, black pants, gloves, and a mask. Head to toe in stealth mode, he checked himself in the mirror—and then immediately dropped into a classic Naruto ninja pose.
He paused.
Cringed.
And groaned, "Eighteen years old. Dude… you're eighteen."
Shaking his head in shame, he crept out of his room, gently opened the window, and dropped down to the grass outside without a sound. The night was quiet. He started walking the streets, scanning every corner, every alley, looking for something—anything cursed.
But after twenty minutes of walking, still nothing.
'Seriously? Nothing? No cursed spirits? This whole neighborhood full of depression and no curses?'
Then he stopped.
"...Oh. Right."
He slapped his forehead. "I forgot that Jujutsu Sorcerers can expand their cursed energy to sense curses. Dumbass."
Standing still, he closed his eyes and took a slow breath. The world around him blurred as he focused inward, cursed energy pulsing gently within him.
'Alright… breathe in… expand… reach out.'
For a moment, nothing.
Then—flicker.
A chill crawled up his spine as something tugged at his senses. Faint, distant, but definitely cursed energy. He grinned.
"Gotcha."
He started channeling cursed energy into his legs, preparing to bolt—and instantly launched forward with such speed that he crashed face-first into a wall he hadn't seen.
WHAM.
He staggered back, dazed, and mumbled, "When the hell did that wall get there…?"
Groaning, he stood, adjusted the output of cursed energy into his legs, and then burst off again, this time in control. He weaved through streets and alleys, following the cursed energy signature like a bloodhound until he came to an old park with broken swings and overgrown weeds.
And then he saw it.
A beast.
It stood on all fours—tall as a bear but lean like a greyhound. Its skin looked like matted fur made of shadow, twitching and pulsing like living oil. Its face was elongated with a mouth that split open sideways, lined with jagged glass-like teeth. Its eyes were uneven orbs of red, spinning slowly in their sockets.
'That is… way uglier than I imagined.'
He crouched low, quiet as a whisper, and crept toward the creature.
'Alright… let's put Batman's 127 fighting styles to use. Let's try Kung Fu. Tiger style.'
He poured cursed energy into his fists and legs, rushed forward silently, then slammed both palms into the dirt as he skidded to a stop behind the curse. Using the force of the ground to launch upward, he landed a crushing uppercut into its back, sending it flying.
Midair.
'Now!'
He slipped into Tiger stance—knees bent, clawed hands raised like fangs.
The curse flailed above him for a moment too long.
He let loose.
Pouring cursed energy into both fists, he delivered a rapid series of short, brutal punches straight into the curse's gut. The air popped with every blow—quick, merciless, unrelenting. One. Two. Five. Ten. Twenty.
The creature was riddled with holes, black ichor spraying like mist.
It hit the ground with a splatter and dissolved into nothing.
Riku stood panting, the last of the cursed mist fading from the air.
"That was… so fucking cool. Thank the RNG gods I got this ability."
[Congratulations! You have defeated a Grade 4 Curse and have received 1 draw.]
He chuckled and rolled his shoulders. "Alright. Today—well, tonight—we hunt curses."
With a deep breath, he poured cursed energy into his feet and dashed off again into the night.
After some time, he came to an industrial zone with rusted warehouses. He felt it before he saw it.
Three identical curses loitered in a clearing—each humanoid but warped, like mannequins made of tar and stitched cloth. Their fingers were too long. Their mouths didn't move, but the air around them trembled.
He crouched behind a pile of crates and whispered, "Looks like the boys are having a night out. Sadly… this is their last one."
He picked up three fist-sized rocks.
'Let's see if Deadeye Riku is real.'
He infused each with cursed energy and hurled them one after the other. One rock struck the first curse dead-center in the head. It shrieked and burst into smoke.
'Bullseye.'
The other two dodged—but one lost its arm in the process. It shrieked, the sound like radio static, then charged straight for him.
Riku stepped out of hiding and flowed into an Aikido stance—open arms, relaxed posture.
As the curse lunged, he pivoted smoothly, catching the momentum and redirecting it. Using the curse's own force, he slammed it into the ground with a brutal thud.
It twitched once.
Then dissolved into black ash.
'One left.'
He turned.
But before he could react, the last curse rushed in—faster than the others—and drove a heavy fist straight into his gut. His body crumpled inward as blood burst from his mouth. His eyes widened as he was lifted off the ground and slammed into the dirt.
'Shit. Shit. Shit. What the fuck is this thing?!'
Gritting his teeth, he raised his legs and kicked it back, buying space. Coughing, he pushed himself to his feet and flooded his limbs with cursed energy.
Wing Chun time.
He slid into a tight, compact stance—elbows in, hands up, forward energy focused on the curse's centerline.
The creature roared and lunged again.
He met its attacks head-on— blocking, and redirecting it. Every strike he absorbed, twisted, turned. Each movement flowed into the next like water. Deflect, strike. Parry, jab. Constant pressure forward.
But it wasn't enough.
After a minute, his arms felt like lead.
'Shit… I'm running out of cursed energy. I need to run.'
He baited a punch, twisted low, and slammed both palms into the ground. The curse lost its footing, stumbling forward just enough.
Riku poured all remaining cursed energy into his legs and launched away in a blur.
But not fast enough.
The curse's jaw unhinged. A crackling beam of cursed energy fired from its mouth, slamming into his shoulder. Pain exploded down his arm.
"FUCK—!"
He grit his teeth and kept running.
He didn't stop until he reached a quiet alleyway two districts away. He collapsed behind a dumpster, gripping his scorched arm.
[Congratulations! You have defeated a Grade 3 Curse and have received 1 draw.][Congratulations! You have defeated a Grade 2 Curse and have received 1 draw.]
He stared at the system messages, heart pounding.
'If those two were Grade Three and Two… then that one had to be Grade One.'
He slumped back against the wall, breathing heavily.
'I'll admit I got cocky… but I also learned how to effectively fight using the styles I have. Not a total win… but a good one.'
His breath slowed.
Eventually, he stood.
Still cradling his arm, he made his way home and climbed through his bedroom window. He collapsed on the bed, muscles aching, bones rattled.
"I'll open the draws tomorrow… maybe I'll even attempt reverse cursed technique."
He let out a dry laugh.
Then passed out cold.