What kind of curse would possess flames?
In Sōjun Minamoto's mind, it would most likely be a curse born from negative emotions like rage.
It was just a theory—but it was something to go on.
He decided to head out.
Unlike previous missions or exorcism outings, this time he wouldn't leave a clone behind at Jujutsu High. He was planning to travel farther, and a clone might not be able to keep up, so all of him would go.
The goal: to assimilate a flame-based Cursed Spirit.
A Pyromancer would work too. And while he was out, he might as well check in on the Ten Great Barriers to see how far along Master Tengen had gotten.
Sōjun Minamoto had no obsessive desire to collect Cursed Techniques. His code of conduct wouldn't shift just because some technique happened to be powerful.
His own techniques were the strongest—that belief was deeply ingrained in him. In his opinion, every competent sorcerer should think the same.
He had long delved into the Cursed Technique Lapse, gradually expanding his own. Like a tree, his technique had sprouted new branches, growing ever more refined over time.
Any assimilated technique was just a reference point for comparison.
Take, for example, the spatial technique from the locust-headed curse—he could now replicate the same effect with his own perfect control, further enhanced by how Black Flash influenced space.
Or that clone technique used by the one with the paper-covered head—his control over distance far surpassed it, and he was gradually replacing it with his own method.
Even earlier techniques, like puppet manipulation...
By using the knowledge in his mind and his deep understanding of curses, he had painstakingly developed his own techniques. That gave him a sense of fulfillment—they fit him better than anyone else's ever could.
He believed in power belonging to oneself.
...
Sōjun Minamoto greeted the people around him before leaving Jujutsu High on his own.
This time, his route wasn't planned—he'd head south first, then make his way north, visit home, and finally return to the school.
As for finding a flame-based curse, he never placed much hope in blind luck.
This was the kind of situation where Jujutsu High's intel network could really come in handy—they rarely let him down.
Even after years of searching, he'd barely encountered any Storage Cursed Spirits. The only one he'd seen was the bloated human-head curse Toji Fushiguro had brought in. That guy had taken all the Special Grade Cursed Tools. Sōjun couldn't just snatch them too—he could only watch it bond with Suguru Geto and feel bitterly envious.
It was frustrating. His luck was downright terrible.
He'd need some backup plans—maybe take out extra insurance, come up with alternative methods.
First, he'd need to go where the people were. Crowds meant more chances for anger to build.
Morning commutes, traffic jams... When you're already late and stuck waiting in a slow-moving line, someone cuts ahead, staff are inefficient and just keep apologizing... Workplace pressure, unfair treatment, overwhelming tasks, conflict between colleagues...
There's no shortage of rage.
Sōjun wandered through the bustling city, surrounded by hurried pedestrians. He didn't quite fit in with the crowd.
These bursts of anger... The problem was direction. Yes, that was the word—they weren't unified enough to coalesce into a curse.
Maybe he should look for sources that trigger widespread negative emotions—like fear of volcanoes.
But at this point in time, the volcano-headed curse likely hadn't been born yet.
His eyes glinted.
If that didn't work out, he'd skimmed the curse user dossiers before leaving. There were still a few with flame-based techniques...
Might as well start the search.
He paid a visit to Mount Fuji, around which many Asama shrines had been established. These shrines, rooted in fire worship, had given rise to numerous deities—among the most famous was Kagutsuchi no Mikoto.
Kagutsuchi no Mikoto was a significant figure in Japanese mythology, commonly regarded as the god of fire or volcanoes.
Born of the gods Izanagi and Izanami, he symbolized the destructive power of fire. But fire is fierce—when Izanami gave birth to him, her body was burned, and she died. In his fury, Izanagi drew his sword and decapitated Kagutsuchi...
Another widely worshipped deity was the Aragami, also believed to be a fire god.
It was typically enshrined in hearths or kitchens, sometimes thought to dwell in hooks or the hearth itself.
The Aragami was easily angered—and hated women. It was a violent god.
People offered straw snakes or burned cattle as sacrifices.
There were three types: fire gods worshipped indoors, guardian deities of homes or villages worshipped outdoors, and protectors of cattle and horses...
As Sōjun Minamoto recalled these legends, he found himself thinking—
There were so many of these stories. Whether or not they were true, the ones that had spread widely usually had a certain logic behind them.
Even the name "Kagutsuchi" hinted at its nature—words like "kagu" and "tsuchi" carried meanings of ferocity and intensity, fitting for a fire deity.
But if it was full of contradictions, how could anyone believe it?
What Sōjun needed to do was find the points where myth and reality overlapped.
Fire could bring warmth and light—but also destruction.
Among the so-called eight million gods—a catch-all phrase—there were countless deities, yokai, and urban legends tied to fire.
He wasn't in a rush. Every place he passed, he learned something new.
From Kagoshima in the south to Aomori in the north, it was just a ten-and-a-half-hour drive. With some time spent investigating along the way, his five bodies moving together could easily cover everything in a few days.
He wasn't just a tourist—he was a sorcerer.
...
Kyoto—the thousand-year-old capital. Since the Heian period, it had served as Japan's imperial city for over 1,200 years.
Its layout still preserved the planning of Tang-era Chang'an and Luoyang.
Walking through Kyoto's narrow streets and alleys, Sōjun Minamoto felt like he was traveling through time.
Here stood the oldest temples and the most revered shrines.
He had a deep interest in legends of gods and spirits. Even within negative emotions, fear and guilt toward sacred things could pile up and give rise to strange curses.
"You're asking about fire spirits?"
Kyoto locals took great pride in their cultural heritage.
Sōjun had approached an old man on the street to ask around.
"There are tons of them—tenkas, hitodamas, and the Chōchin-obake."
The first two were easy to understand. "Tenka" referred to fire from natural disasters like lightning strikes, while "hitodama" were ghost lights, often explained as phosphorescent flames caused by decomposing bodies.
But the third one...
"Chōchin-obake? That's a gourd-shaped yokai that glows bluish-white and floats around at night," said the old man, rubbing his bald head and flashing a gap-toothed grin.
"Don't be ridiculous. It's clearly shaped like a long-handled ladle flying through the air—that's why it's called Chōchin-obake," his companion argued.
"Have you seen it?" the old man asked, silencing the other instantly.
The companion scratched his head, stunned. "Wait... you've seen it?"
The old man didn't respond, his face suddenly hard to read. He turned to Sōjun Minamoto.
"Come to think of it, I have seen a Chōchin-obake," he said, pausing before suddenly asking, "Why're you asking about this, young man?"
"Oh, I'm just researching local folklore..."
Before Sōjun could even finish making up a story, the old man couldn't hold back his urge to share.
"They say it's a glowing gourd-shaped spirit, but it's really just a fireball with a tail, flying through the air. That greenish-white fire? That's yin flame. I poured water on it—and it flared up even stronger!"
Brave old man.
"When did you see it?" Sōjun asked.
"Eh... just last night," the old man replied with a grin, scratching his head.
Seriously? You believe that?
The old man suddenly went quiet, as if there was more he couldn't say.
His companion, who had been listening with rapt attention, jumped in. "And? Then what happened?"
The old man didn't answer. He just grabbed his friend and shuffled away.
Even from a distance, Sōjun could hear them arguing.
"Hey, you were just getting to the good part!"
"Why stop halfway?!"
"I ain't saying anything more, let's go..."
Sōjun Minamoto withdrew his gaze and looked at the lingering trace of cursed energy he had caught. It wasn't strong—harmless to ordinary people.
But it was fire.
And that's exactly what he needed.