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Chapter 6: The Spark of Resolve
Kazumi's hands were trembling slightly as he stood before the entrance of the abandoned hospital, feeling the weight of his first official mission press down on him. This wasn't some trivial training exercise, or a sparring session under Gojo's watchful eye. This was real. He tightened his fists, feeling the faint hum of cursed energy gathering in his veins as he stared into the decaying hallways. Every sound, every creak in the silence felt amplified, as though the entire building were breathing, waiting.
"Alright, Kazumi," he whispered, his voice steadier than he felt. "It's you or them. And I am not going to lose." The last part was more for himself than anything else.
As he stepped inside, the faint light from outside faded, casting the hallway into darkness. His senses prickled with the unmistakable, bitter chill of cursed energy. The entire hospital was steeped in it, enough to make his skin crawl. He'd been told to clear out the lower-level curses lurking here, but he hadn't expected the air to be this thick with malice. It felt like stepping into the mouth of something hungry.
A faint shuffling noise came from the corridor up ahead, followed by a soft, guttural whisper. Kazumi inhaled sharply, forcing himself to push forward. The walls around him seemed to stretch, bending like they were alive. Shadows loomed, twisting and writhing, and he could swear he saw faces in them, faces with hollow eyes and twisted smiles.
And then, without warning, a figure slipped out of the wall. It was the first curse—a pale, emaciated thing, its body stretched unnaturally long, bones protruding from its skin, its mouth a cavern of teeth. Kazumi's stomach churned. This wasn't like the training dummies. This was real—a creature of pure hatred and malice, its hollow gaze fixed solely on him.
"Alright, buddy," Kazumi muttered, forcing a grin, "let's dance."
The curse lunged forward, too fast for him to dodge completely. He felt its claws slice across his shoulder, sharp and burning. The pain was immediate and visceral. He staggered back, his hand instinctively clamping over the wound. Blood seeped through his fingers, warm and sticky. Panic flared up in his chest, but he clenched his jaw, forcing it down. This is what it means to be a sorcerer, he told himself, Gojo's words echoing in his mind. Fight, even when it hurts.
With a shout, he summoned his cursed energy, focusing it into his uninjured hand. A crimson glow pulsed around his fist, the aura of Fury of the Forsaken flickering like fire. His heart pounded as he closed the distance, every step fueled by adrenaline. He aimed a punch at the curse, feeling his energy surge forward as his fist connected. The impact tore through the curse's body, splitting it down the middle. Its form dissolved into black mist, vanishing into nothingness.
Kazumi breathed heavily, clutching his bleeding shoulder. His first real fight, his first real injury. A shaky smile crossed his lips. "Not so tough, are you?"
But he had barely taken two steps forward when he heard another snarl—a low, rasping sound, like nails on metal. Another curse, larger and more grotesque, slithered into view. This one had multiple heads, each with a different twisted expression, all of them laughing, mocking him. His pulse quickened as he realized this was no ordinary low-level curse.
"Come on, Kazumi," he muttered, trying to summon the courage to face it. "You didn't train for nothing."
The curse surged toward him, its multiple arms reaching out like the claws of a demon. Kazumi leaped to the side, feeling the rush of wind as the claws missed him by inches. He couldn't afford to make any mistakes; one wrong move, and he was done.
Summoning every ounce of cursed energy he could muster, he aimed another blow at the creature, pouring all his frustration, his fear, his resolve into the attack. His fist glowed brighter, the crimson energy wrapping around his arm like flame. He struck the curse with everything he had, feeling the impact reverberate through his bones.
But this time, the curse didn't dissipate. It reeled back, injured but far from defeated. It laughed—a sickening, guttural sound that sent chills down his spine. Kazumi's eyes widened. This thing was stronger than he'd expected. It wasn't just going to go down easily.
"Okay, then," he muttered, gritting his teeth. "Round two."
He charged forward again, his breath ragged, his body aching. His cursed energy pulsed erratically, each burst leaving him more drained. The curse lashed out, catching him in the side. He felt a searing pain as its claws dug into his flesh, tearing through muscle. He gasped, stumbling back, blood dripping onto the floor.
The pain was overwhelming, a brutal reminder of his mortality. He clutched his side, feeling his vision blur slightly. He was losing too much blood, and he knew it. But even as his body screamed at him to retreat, to escape, a fierce determination burned in his chest. This is what it meant to fight as a sorcerer, to risk everything.
He steadied himself, his hands trembling as he gathered his energy again. His cursed technique, Fury of the Forsaken, ignited, the red aura intensifying around him. His mind went blank, all thought reduced to a single, overwhelming urge—to destroy this creature, to prove that he belonged.
"Come on!" he shouted, his voice hoarse. "Is that all you've got?"
The curse lunged again, and Kazumi met it head-on. Their clash was brutal, raw, each attack driving them both to their limits. Blood splattered across the floor, the air thick with the metallic scent. Kazumi's strikes grew wild, each one fueled by a desperation that bordered on madness.
Finally, with a roar, he gathered the last of his energy, pouring it into one final blow. His fist collided with the curse, the impact shattering its form, sending fragments of its twisted energy scattering into the air. The curse let out a final, pitiful wail before dissolving into smoke.
Kazumi fell to his knees, gasping for breath. His body was a mess of cuts and bruises, his vision swimming with exhaustion. But he'd done it. He'd won.
He looked up, spotting Nobara and Megumi standing nearby, their expressions unreadable. Kazumi managed a weak grin. "So… not bad for my first day, right?"
Nobara snorted. "You looked like you were getting a beatdown half the time."
Megumi smirked, crossing his arms. "But you held your ground. Gojo might actually have been right about you."
Kazumi let out a laugh, though it came out more like a wheeze. "Glad to know… I'm not the only one who thinks so." He staggered to his feet, feeling the weight of every bruise, every cut.
As they left the hospital, the pain in Kazumi's body was a distant memory compared to the sense of accomplishment swelling in his chest. He had fought, bled, and come out victorious. It wasn't perfect, and he knew he had a long way to go. But today, he had proved to himself that he belonged, that he was capable of standing his ground.
Back at the school, Kazumi collapsed into bed, his muscles sore, his mind replaying the fight over and over. Despite everything, he found himself smiling, a fire igniting in his chest. Today had been brutal, painful—but it was just the beginning. He'd push himself harder, become stronger, learn to control his cursed energy with precision and power.
He stared up at the ceiling, a fierce determination settling in his gaze. He wouldn't stop until he became someone worthy of the title of sorcerer.