Chapter Eight: After a Week, The Second Mission – Part One
I got out of bed after letting out a pained groan. I was starting to feel less pain after more than a week of continuous training (getting beaten up by the instructor). But unfortunately, I still hadn't managed to awaken my special technique. I still couldn't turn my eyes red like they were supposed to, or so I thought. Because frankly, after a full week of trying to figure out how to save these two eyes, I'd even started to doubt their existence. I mean, maybe I survived just by a miracle, and Kasumi Miou, being upside down when the curse held her, might have caused her to not see the shape of my eyes clearly. Maybe she misunderstood, and this deepened my own misunderstanding about the nature of my cursed technique.
After a week, Obito began to lose hope of awakening his cursed technique and focused on something else. While Kyoshi trained him until he lost consciousness, he decided that instead of venturing into the unknown and trying to awaken something he didn't know how to awaken, he would train in the basics during this short time. Those basics were cursed energy control, plus reading from books in the library.
Obito continued, while receiving damage, to sense cursed energy more keenly. Pain turned into negative emotions, and those emotions transformed into cursed energy he could use to reinforce himself. He had mastered basic reinforcement. True, he still couldn't avoid most of Instructor Kyoshi's blows, but he was significantly better than at the beginning. Now, when he raised his hand, he was able to release a small amount of cursed energy to cover his hand properly. That support was easily enough to shatter a wooden wall. And if he used his energy to the maximum, he was sure he could cause damage to a thin metal wall. Of course, this hadn't been tested yet. But with Obito's growing sense of his own power, he was gaining a bit of confidence.
He decided to stop at this point and go outside. On his way through the corridors, he went directly to the dining hall for breakfast. He grabbed a tray and went to the cook, who recognized Obito and placed food on the tray. Obito didn't talk to many people in this place, not because he had social problems (which he did), but because he frankly knew that everyone here wasn't normal—they were jujutsu users or people aware of cursed energy. They were all people working for the jujutsu society, while he was a person from the Zenin clan. True, from the manager's words, it seemed he was just sent to fulfill an indirect order from the higher-ups. Yet, that didn't make things seem normal to anyone in this place, especially for someone from the Zenin clan. But of course, Obito didn't care much about this matter.
He sat in his seat and began eating again. He mentally thanked the cook for this delicious food. The food here was incredibly fresh and packed with a lot of nutrients, helping his body overcome the daily pain he endured. But while eating, Obito didn't notice someone entering the cafeteria.
Usually, no one else would come in here. Not because they couldn't, but because most went out to work. The number of people going on missions was quite high, but not as high as the number of missions required. Usually, a person didn't stay at the academy for long before being assigned a mission. In the world of jujutsu, there was no such thing as training before going; they had to train practically—meaning, the student fights curses to become stronger.
Anyway, the person who entered was none other than a blue-haired, blue-eyed girl holding a katana. She gripped it tightly in her hands. She glanced around the cafeteria briefly before her eyes landed on Obito. She then went to his table.
Obito finally noticed the girl after she reached his table. He looked at her, opened his mouth, and said in a fragmented voice while quickly chewing his food to be able to speak better.
"Kasumi... senpai?"
He said it haltingly. But the girl didn't pay attention to that. Instead, she said in a quiet voice,
"When you finish eating, follow me to the exit gate. We have another mission."
The girl didn't wait after that. She left the cafeteria. But for Obito, he was stunned.
—Another mission? It hasn't even been a week. Am I really going to face a curse again?—
He was saying this, but he quickly got up after placing his tray directly in its designated spot. He left and quickly reached the exit gate. There, the girl was waiting for him. Beside her was a car. She gestured for him to get in, and he did so immediately.
The moment the two of them got into the car, it began to move and speed off, the engine's roar ringing directly in Obito's ears.
VROOOOOOM—!
Inside the car, Obito looked out of the corner of his eye, trying to distract his thoughts. But finally, he asked, burning with curiosity about the type of mission.
"The mission isn't big. It's just a Grade Three curse this time. But I think you know by now that there's no such thing as precise information. We have to adapt to the curse we face."
She said this as if she didn't care. But for a moment, Obito noticed a slight movement from her shoulder. It wasn't noticeable if he hadn't been looking at her at that moment; he wouldn't have spotted that slight movement. But he didn't know its meaning. However, when he thought about it again, he found that the meaning of this movement she made didn't matter, because now he was going to face another curse on a strange mission. So, he requested the mission details.
Kasumi Miou gave Obito the mission papers. When he read them with great care, he was able to understand the nature of the mission.
—This time, a water park at a hotel? Famous in central Tokyo, called the Blue Star. This hotel is very famous for being an elite hotel for the rich. Obito didn't know why there would be a curse in this place, but he saw the list of incidents related to this hotel and gradually began to understand why there was supposed to be a curse there.
According to the mission information, this hotel had disappearances of most guests who entered the rooms on the seventh floor, especially room 404. It seemed that in rooms 400 to 420, multiple disappearances occurred, plus police intervention several times, but they found no bodies or anything about the people who disappeared. It was as if the ground had swallowed them, with no information about their whereabouts. But over the years, it seemed rumors had started spreading among people about the seventh floor and the rooms in question.
There was also other information indicating that all targets disappeared directly after going to the hotel and reaching those rooms. Normally, there would be many investigations into this matter, but the hotel, it seemed, had turned these rooms into intriguing challenges for most people. There were even people who said they went to those rooms and found nothing. Because of this, police investigations didn't last long. But finally, after recent disappearances, the jujutsu organization's mission center sent an order to assign a team to check the place and confirm if there was a curse.
Obito fully understood the mission after reading the file. Finally, he looked at the senpai beside him and didn't say anything.
After three hours of driving, they arrived at the Blue Star Hotel. He got out of the car and looked at the giant hotel, one of the most famous in Tokyo. Obito couldn't help but stare at this hotel in awe.
The Blue Star Hotel wasn't just a building; it was a monument to polished glass, gleaming steel, and arrogant modernity. It stabbed into the overcast Tokyo sky like a shard of ice, its surface reflecting the grey clouds and the bustling city below in a distorted, shimmering mosaic. A long, sculpted driveway, flanked by perfectly manicured shrubs that looked more plastic than plant, led to a grand entrance where a doorman in an immaculate uniform stood like a statue.
The air here smelled different from the academy's damp earth and old paper. It was a sterile cocktail of expensive perfume, polished marble, and ozone from the central air conditioning—a scent that screamed money and soulless efficiency.
Whoosh.
The automatic glass doors slid open silently as they approached,revealing a cavernous lobby with a floor so shiny Obito could see the anxious reflection of his own face staring back from the polished marble. The ceiling was impossibly high, with a massive, abstract crystal chandelier hanging like a frozen explosion of light. Soft, ambient music, the kind that promised relaxation but delivered only existential unease, drifted from hidden speakers.
People in sharp suits and elegant dresses moved through the space with a quiet, purposeful grace. Their conversations were hushed, their laughter a discreet tinkle. They were the kind of people who bought islands on a whim and considered human emotions a minor inefficiency.
Obito, in his slightly rumpled, academy-issued clothes that still carried the faint, earthy smell of Training Ground 3, felt like a stain on a white silk rug. He instinctively hunched his shoulders, trying to make himself smaller.
Miou, however, walked with the same unflappable, serious demeanor. The katana at her side, usually an alarming sight, seemed to be ignored by the hotel staff and guests alike—either due to some low-level perception-altering cursed technique or simply because rich people had seen weirder things.
She strode directly to the concierge desk, a long, curved slab of dark wood manned by a man whose smile was so professionally polished it probably reflected UV light.
"Reservation for Kasumi," she stated, her voice flat. No 'please,' no 'thank you.' Just facts.
"Of course, Miss Kasumi. Suite on the eighth floor. As requested." The concierge didn't bat an eye, sliding two key cards across the desk with a smooth shhhhk of plastic on wood. His eyes briefly flicked to Obito, and for a microsecond, his perfect smile tightened ever so slightly, as if he'd detected a faint, unpleasant odor. Then it was back to flawless professionalism.
Eighth floor. Not the seventh. A sensible precaution. Obito pocketed the key card, the cool plastic feeling alien in his hand.
They moved towards the elevators, their footsteps echoing in the vast, silent lobby. The elevator doors were mirrored, and Obito caught sight of himself again—pale, with dark circles under his eyes that spoke of sleepless nights and daily beatings, his posture defensive. He looked like a lost delivery boy who had wandered into a spaceship.
Ding.
The elevator arrived with a soft,cheerful chime that felt wildly inappropriate. The doors slid open soundlessly. They stepped in. The interior was lined with more mirrors and polished brass. Soft jazz now played here, even more cloying than the lobby music.
Miou pressed the button for the eighth floor. The button lit up with a soft, expensive click. The elevator began its smooth, whisper-quiet ascent. The sensation of movement was almost imperceptible, just a slight pressure in the ears.
The silence in the small, mirrored box was thick enough to chew. Obito watched the floor numbers light up sequentially above the door. 2... 3... 4...
He couldn't help it. He had to ask.
"Senpai," he began, his voice echoing slightly in the confined space. "The file said the incidents are on the seventh floor. Why are we on the eighth?"
Miou didn't look at him, her gaze fixed on their reflections. "Observation first. We assess the cursed energy signature from a safe distance. We do not walk blindly into a potential curse's domain, especially one linked to localized disappearances." Her tone was that of a teacher reciting a basic safety rule to a particularly dim student. "We will inspect the seventh floor tonight, when guest activity is minimal."
Ding.
The eighth floor.The doors opened onto a plush, carpeted hallway so quiet it felt soundproofed. The walls were a tasteful, muted cream, adorned with abstract art that probably cost more than Obito's entire previous life. The air smelled of lavender and something faintly antiseptic.
Their suite was at the end of the hall. Miou slid her key card. A green light blinked, and the lock disengaged with a solid thunk. She pushed the door open.
The suite was… obscene. It was larger than Obito's entire dormitory wing. A wall of floor-to-ceiling windows offered a breathtaking, dizzying view of Tokyo's sprawling skyline. The furniture was modern, low-profile, and looked like you could break a bone if you sat on it wrong. A giant flatscreen TV dominated one wall. A fruit basket overflowed with exotic-looking fruits Obito couldn't name.
Obito just stood in the doorway, his mouth slightly agape. "We… we're staying here?"
"It is a cover," Miou said, walking in and placing her katana carefully on a glass coffee table with a soft clink. "The management provided the reservation. Do not touch anything unnecessarily. Do not order room service. Our purpose is the mission, not luxury."
Right. The mission. The curse that supposedly swallowed people on the floor directly below their obscenely expensive feet. Obito stepped inside, the plush carpet swallowing his footsteps. He felt a profound urge to take off his shoes, but he wasn't sure if that was a rule. He left them on.
He went to the window. From up here, the city looked like a intricate circuit board, the cars tiny ants crawling along glowing lines. The sheer height was nauseating. He could feel the faint, almost imperceptible sway of the building in the wind. Or maybe that was just his knees trembling.
He turned away from the view. Miou was already setting up. From a small, practical bag, she withdrew two small, black devices that looked like high-tech pagers and a thin, rolled-up scroll sealed with wax.
"These are cursed energy detectors. Low-grade, but they will flare if significant energy is concentrated nearby." She handed one to Obito. It was cold and heavy for its size. "Keep it on you at all times. The scroll is a basic barrier talisman. I will place it on our door tonight to prevent any… unwanted entry."
Obito nodded, clutching the detector. It felt inert, like a dead phone. He looked around the luxurious suite again. The disconnect was staggering. The sterile beauty of this place versus the grotesque reality of the mission. The soft jazz from the elevator seemed to have followed him, a ghostly soundtrack to impending horror.
"What's the plan for now?" he asked.
"We wait. We observe." Miou sat on the edge of an armchair that probably cost as much as a car, her posture still ramrod straight. She closed her eyes, not to rest, but to focus, extending her senses. "Feel the atmosphere of the building. Listen. The curse, if it is here, will have left traces in the emotional residue of this place. Fear. Dread. Desperation. Even in a place like this, those emotions can pool."
Obito tried to do as she said. He closed his eyes, pushing his own cursed energy out gently, like sonar. He felt the general hum of life in the building—the muted conversations, the clinking of glasses from a bar far below, the steady thrum of the HVAC system. But beneath it… was there something else? A faint, cold current, like a draft from a door left ajar in a tomb. It was elusive, coming from… below.
His eyes snapped open. "The seventh floor. There's something… thin. Cold. It's not strong, but it's there."
Miou opened her eyes and gave him a brief, appraising look. A flicker of something that might have been approval, or maybe just confirmation that his senses weren't completely useless. "Good. Remember that feeling. That is the scent of our target."
The hours crawled by. Obito tried to read the mission file again, memorizing the layout of the seventh floor. Rooms 400-420 were along the eastern corridor. The disappearances were random, with no pattern regarding time of day or number of guests. Some were solo travelers, some couples. All vanished without a trace, their luggage left untouched.
As evening fell, the city outside their window began to light up, transforming into a dazzling sea of neon and electricity. The suite grew dark, and neither of them turned on the lights. They sat in the gathering gloom, two shadows in a palace of light, waiting.
Finally, Miou stood up. The movement was silent. "It is time. The hotel's night cycle has begun. Staff presence on guest floors is minimal after 11 PM."
She picked up her katana and attached the sheath to her belt with a series of smooth, practiced clicks (click-click-click). She then took the barrier scroll and approached the suite door. With a precise motion, she broke the wax seal. The paper unrolled slightly, and she channeled a whisper of cursed energy into it. The characters on the scroll glowed with a faint, blue light for a second before fading. She pressed it against the inside of the door, where it adhered as if painted on.
"That will alert us if anything attempts to cross this threshold with malicious intent," she explained quietly. "Now, we go to the seventh floor. Stay close. Do not speak unless necessary. Your detector—watch it."
Obito nodded, his throat dry. He checked the cursed energy detector in his pocket. Still dark. He followed Miou out into the hallway. The plush carpet muffled their steps completely. The hallway was dimly lit by small, elegant sconces, casting long, deep shadows. The abstract art on the walls now looked sinister, the shapes resembling grasping hands or silent screams.
They took the stairs, not the elevator. The stairwell was concrete and functional, a stark contrast to the opulence of the guest floors. Their footsteps here were loud, echoing up and down the shaft with a hollow clang on the metal steps. The air was cooler, smelling of concrete dust and cleaning solution.
They reached the door marked '7'. Miou paused, her hand on the handle. She looked back at Obito, her blue eyes sharp in the poor light. "Ready?"
No. He was not ready. He was never ready. He gave a tight, jerky nod.
She pushed the door open.
The seventh-floor hallway was identical in decor to the eighth—same cream walls, same plush carpet, same tasteful art. But the atmosphere was palpably different. It was quieter, a heavy, watchful silence that felt thicker than the carpet. The air was several degrees colder, carrying a faint, stale odor that wasn't present upstairs—a mix of old carpet cleaner and something else, something dry and faintly organic, like forgotten potpourri.
And the light from the sconces seemed weaker here, struggling to push back the darkness that pooled in the corners and around the doorways of rooms 400-420.
Miou pointed silently down the eastern corridor. Obito's cursed energy detector in his pocket remained inert, but the cold feeling he'd sensed earlier was stronger now, a gentle, insistent pull coming from that direction.
They began to walk, their movements slow and deliberate. Obito's heart was hammering so loudly he was afraid it would echo in the silent hall. He kept his eyes moving, scanning the doors, the ceiling, the seams where the wall met the floor.
Room 404 was about halfway down the hall. As they approached it, Obito felt it—a subtle drop in temperature. The hairs on his arms stood up. He glanced at Miou. Her expression was grim, focused. She had unsheathed her katana a few inches, the polished steel catching the weak light with a dull gleam.
They stopped in front of room 404. The door looked like any other—polished wood, a brass number plate, a key card reader. But the cold was concentrated here. And there was a sound. A very faint, almost imperceptible sound.
Drip…
…drip…
...…drip…
It was the sound of water dripping. Slow, irregular. Coming from inside the room.
But this was a hotel room, not a bathroom near the hallway. And the sound was too clear, too… present.
Miou reached out, not for the handle, but to place her palm flat against the door's surface. She closed her eyes, concentrating.
Her own cursed energy detector, clipped to her belt, remained dark.
But Obito saw her frown deepen. She withdrew her hand as if touched by something hot.
"The residual energy is… strange," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "It's not aggressive. It's… patient. And it's not just in this room. It's in the walls. The floor."
As if on cue, Obito's detector gave a single, weak pulse of red light from within his pocket, followed by a soft, electronic beep.
Then it went dark again.
Both of them froze, staring at the spot where the light had been.
The dripping sound from inside room 404 stopped.
And then, from the far end of the corridor, near room 420, a new sound began.
A soft, wet, dragging sound.
Shhhhlllllllp…
Shhhhlllllllp…
Like something heavy, wrapped in soaking wet cloth, being pulled slowly across the plush carpet.
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End of Chapter.
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