Over the years, there have been numerous shows featuring a main character, or someone close to them, harboring a so-called "inner demon." This is a being bound to the protagonist from birth, or one that took up residence in their soul following a pivotal moment that drove the plot forward.
There are plenty of examples: the shift from enemies to lovers in the case of Naruto and Kurama; Ichigo Kurosaki's inner hollow; Kayn battling Rhaast for control in League of Legends; or even Yuji Itadori and Sukuna, along with the latter's endless array of "binding vows" pulled straight out of his ass. All of them perfectly embody this trope.
In most cases, the demon acts as a catalyst, thrusting its host into a world they never asked to enter. Now, the host must worry not only about external enemies trying to kill them but also about the constant internal struggle to keep the monster from taking the wheel.
If those stories taught Rémy anything, it was that one of the most effective ways to combat such a selfish evil was to actually become friends. Or, at the very least, strike a pact of mutual convenience. Forging an alliance with the beast killed two birds with one stone: it eliminated the worst threat inside his own head while simultaneously granting him a power-up absurd enough to wipe the floor with enemies who had previously seemed invincible.
But that side of him, the one prone to reckless self-indulgence, would have to wait its turn. The pressing problem, one with the potential to ruin his life even more than it already was, was those unwelcome visitors. In the span of a single day, the damned women had witnessed both his masculine and feminine sides in less than an hour.
He seriously considered killing them.
After all, dispatching them without having to get his hands dirty in a fair fight was simple enough. He could sneak into the hospital and "accidentally" lace their medication with poison. Or better yet, break in his new Evangelion sniper rifle (his last big investment before going broke again) by taking a shot from a block away and then calmly walking off. He had plenty of ways to wipe them off the map.
The problem was the chain reaction. The mysterious disappearance of three sorceresses in that town would trigger alarms throughout the magical world, and the ensuing manhunt would target him directly. It was obvious they had tracked him down because of his carelessness in using the interface in front of civilians. People who, it seemed, had been noticing the anomalies for some time. If that trio had managed to track him so quickly, their superiors wouldn't be far behind in catching up and beating him to a pulp.
On the other hand, his survival instinct warned him that those women's heightened senses would likely ruin any attempt at a surprise attack. Yeah... better not to push his luck.
¿Flee to another city? ¡Impossible!
No matter how respectable his real-world savings were, they weren't enough to secure a decent apartment anywhere. And, to be honest, he could no longer afford the luxury of leaving behind his current family and friends —and those who weren't quite friends— only to vanish into the shadows until someone even more troublesome stumbled upon him.
Because, let's face it, that sort of thing always ended up coming back to haunt the protagonists...
So, finding herself cornered, out of options, and without a single second to improvise, the only viable way out was his quintessential, fail-safe maneuver.
It was that sacred strategy he had always trusted implicitly, one that had never let him down, in this life or the last, when it came to escaping the direst crises.
Humiliating herself.
Wrapped in his blanket like the robe of a heretical monk, Rémy dropped to his knees, hitting the floor with a sharp thud. Before his stood a majestic pagan shrine, erected using the finest relics at his disposal: three cups stacked in a pyramid, an apple juice box serving as a holy chalice, and the fervent mental image of his savior. He bowed his head until his forehead touched the wood and, with the broken voice of a desperate pilgrim, began to worship the great and powerful Richie. Amidst whimpers and praises, he begged him to descend from his throne of privilege and rescue him from his own stupidity.
—¡Please! — he implored, clasping his hands together into a single, trembling fist. —¡I'll pledge you my soul! If you don't have it already, of course... ¡I give you my dignity and my firstborn!
He grabbed the fabric of the blanket and the collar of his shirt. With a single, violent motion, he tore both garments in half, exposing his chest to the light of the bulb. For a moment, there was silence—until the air in front of Rémy began to distort.
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—??????—
disgusting…
Credits lost: -10,000
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—Damn it! — Rémy shouted, slamming his fist against the floor.
However, the system's accumulated rewards, mere seconds away from expiring and triggering an automatic summon, began to emit a high-pitched, pixelated buzzing sound.
The floating spheres of light vibrated erratically in the air and began to gravitate toward one another. They collided in the center of the room, fusing into a mass of unstable energy that spun at breakneck speed.
—Oh…
The digital sound reached a critical, ear-splitting pitch just before detonating in a blinding white flash that consumed Rémy's vision and completely obliterated the room.
Across town, inside a stark hospital room, the three sorceresses were finishing packing their belongings. Morning light filtered through the blinds, illuminating their dark uniforms, which stood out sharply against the clinical pallor of the room. One of them removed the splint from her nose while muttering curses, while the second frowned as she checked her mobile phone screen. The third, Utahime, standing by the door, sighed wearily, though her sharp gaze remained fixed on the hallway outside.
—¿A third one, you say? —she asked Mai.
—And a very strange one, too, — Mai replied. —It was like... I don't know, she kept changing colors like one of those toy lamps.
Utahime sank into thought. Three young women, seemingly devoid of cursed energy, yet possessing an instrument of torture effective against curses and a dome visible to anyone. And most importantly: one of them had enough raw strength to subdue two second-year sorcerers.
"Yeah... it was a tough battle for everyone."
That was what Momo had told her. Although Utahime instantly realized she was lying, she chose to overlook that detail for the moment and focus on the main issue. According to Mai's description, the third girl, the white-haired one, bore a striking resemblance to that would-be psychopath from earlier. Or perhaps an "intermittent" resemblance.
Maybe, just maybe. that lying little bastard and the girl were twins. Utahime glanced over at Mai. A total lack of cursed energy compensated by devastating physical strength was the hallmark of a Heavenly Restriction. It was a pact forced at birth that stripped away cursed energy to forge a monstrously resilient body, or, conversely, granted vast reserves of energy at the cost of a mutilated body, as was the case with Mechamaru.
But this situation defied both rules. To the jujutsu system, those two individuals were like rocks: undetectable, yet capable of inflicting real pain if you got hit by one.
Given how incredibly rare bearers of a Heavenly Restriction were, there was a possibility that a third form existed. A mutation no one had ever recorded. It could be an anomalous arrangement where the twins, far from being punished for their birth, were empowered by the restriction in different ways, in exchange for enduring... rather peculiar physical anomalies. Perhaps the price for that overwhelming strength was the instability of his own flesh, or possessing an ability that was visible to everyone.
And if you added that kid with the teary-eyed look to that pair of freaks...
«¡What a nuisance!»
Utahime roared inwardly and, with a shiver, turned her gaze toward her students.
—That's enough. we're going back to the school. Spouting nonsense in a hospital room won't get us anywhere. While Shoko-chan finishes fixing Mai's teeth, I'll draft the report on all this.
Both students nodded. Although they hadn't strictly achieved the purpose of their visit, they had at least made significant progress. Something to cling to rather than accepting that they had just miserably wasted their time and taken a beating.
After all, they weren't facing a threat that would destroy the world overnight. They had plenty of time to investigate that strange pair. That was, of course, assuming nothing killed them first. But upon reviewing the evidence, Utahime concluded that the odds of something finishing them off were absurdly low.
In fact, she was convinced she knew exactly why not a single spirit remained in the entire town. A shiver ran down Utahime's spine as she looked down at her hands: in one, she held a photo of the grotesque torture machine, and in the other, a metal fragment from it. It didn't emanate a single drop of cursed energy.
It didn't fit the category of a cursed tool, and yet, it had exorcised a spirit with terrifying ease when Utahime tested it by hurling the piece of metal at the trapped specter's skull.
Analyzing the material was a priority. If its effectiveness stemmed from a specific purification process that only those boys understood, the school would have the perfect argument to recruit them into their ranks immediately. Putting her theories aside, Utahime took a step forward until she stood right in front of the white curtain screening the beds where her students were trying to recover.
—¡Greetings!— a familiar voice shouted, throwing the curtains wide open just as Utahime was about to touch them.
The sudden racket made even someone like Utahime, accustomed to dealing with violence on a daily basis, let out a gasp and jump slightly before landing a direct hit on the face that had appeared so abruptly. The liar in question, the very one they had struggled so hard to track down, went spinning wildly through the air before crashing against the wall, sending a shower of medical trays and instruments raining down across the room.
Droplets of blood splattered onto the white wall and Utahime's own fist; once the shock wore off, she felt nothing but embarrassment and a twinge of regret.
The boy curled into a ball, writhing in pain as he tried to stem the flow of blood from his nose. He muttered a string of curses under his breath, complaining quietly, yet loudly enough for the three sorceresses present to hear every single moan.
—Oh... I'm sorry.
Just as Utahime stepped forward to help him, the boy stopped her with a sharp, sudden wave of his hand. He slowly sat up and, after roughly wiping the back of his hand across his face, leaving a smeared crimson streak on his cheek, flashed a smile.
He acted with such ridiculous nonchalance, pretending the blow had never happened, that it left the teacher bewildered. The boy coughed a couple of times.
—¡Good afternoon! I'm glad I made it before you left.
Utahime instantly narrowed her eyes.
—You... ¿Were you looking for us?
The boy nodded, producing a basket overflowing with treats and pastries out of nowhere. They looked homemade, carefully packaged in clear bags and sealed with colorful bows.
—After running and hiding for a good while, I stopped and thought: 'Hold on, I haven't done anything wrong ¿Why the hell am I running?' — he explained, placing the basket in Utahime's arms before she could react. —I admit, you spooked me a bit earlier, but it would be completely stupid of me to ignore three beauties.
The boy winked while striking a pose meant to be seductive. He exaggeratedly bent one knee, shifted his hips to the side, and ran a hand through his hair. Whatever effect he was aiming for was completely ruined by the trickle of fresh blood still running down his chin, his disheveled clothes, and his total lack of natural charm.
«Ugh...» the three sorceresses thought in unison, sharing a grimace of distaste that they quickly hid before the boy could see it.
The next forty minutes flew by in a blur of small talk, formal introductions, and the walk to a private room in a nearby café, a spot where no one could barge in and disturb them. It was a place Rémy had highly recommended, wearing that carefree smile that never left his face.
Utahime took a sip from her cup and cleared her throat before making her pitch. In a serious tone, she explained the benefits of enrolling at the Kyoto school. She spoke of immediate financial independence, detailing how missions offered pay far superior to any part-time job for someone his age.
On top of that, he would have free housing, guaranteed meals, and the protection of a powerful institution. She offered him a place where his condition, and his sister's, wouldn't be viewed as madness, but as pure talent. She assured him that by joining, he would gain not only money, housing, and official status but also the resources needed to study his own anomaly.
At the school, they would have the sinews to understand the nature of his power and, possibly, why ordinary people were able to see his abilities.
—Basically, we'll pay you a small fortune to beat up horrible things that normal people can't see — Mai summarized, resting her chin in her palm with a look of boredom as she interrupted her teacher's formal speech.
—Think of it as an exclusive scholarship —Momo added, taking a sip of her drink. —No one's going to judge you for being weird, and with your sister's brute strength, the job will be a walk in the park.
—My sister...— Rémy murmured. —I apologize for any trouble she might have caused you— he said, glancing at Mai, who waved the comment away lazily. —She always forgets that normal people aren't made of titanium. Keeping a low profile is a huge struggle for us, and frankly, I'm running out of ideas.
—So, ¿Do you accept? —Utahime pressed, not letting him change the subject.
Rémy looked at the basket of sweets he had brought and then at his own cup of coffee.
—Money, free food... I think I'd be a total idiot to say no.
Utahime nodded, visibly satisfied. After all, that disastrous trip hadn't been a complete waste of time.
—Still, there's one small detail that worries me.
The sorceress, who had already placed her hands on the table to stand up, stopped short to give him her full attention.
—If you guys managed to find us so easily, ¿What's to stop others from doing the same? I don't want to leave and find out a few days later that someone is bothering my family or acquaintances.
—Don't let that trouble you —Utahime reassured him. —Luckily for you, we realized what was happening in time and kept the news from spreading too far. To the general public, it'll just look like a bizarre incident or an internet hoax —she explained, downplaying it with a wave of her hand. —Besides, you two are incredibly hard to track. ¿To be honest? If you hadn't put up that dome, I guarantee we would have given up a long time ago.
Rémy nodded slowly and let out a sigh that clearly conveyed "I see." At some point, he had put on a pair of dark glasses.
From that point on, Utahime set about explaining in detail the procedures required for his transfer to the Jujutsu High School, covering everything from schedules and the curriculum to a few logistical details that needed to be taken into account.
By the time she finished, the sun was already beginning to dip behind the mountains. Rémy, never once removing his dark glasses, offered to escort them to the train station.
The walk was quiet. Once they reached the platform, Utahime turned to face him, resuming her strict teacher persona. She reiterated the exact date they would return to pick him up, stressing that he needed to have everything packed and be ready to leave without a hitch. Rémy simply nodded at every word, maintaining an imperturbable smile that looked almost comical behind his shades.
Just before saying goodbye, Utahime rummaged through her pocket and produced the small piece of metal she had retrieved from the wreckage of Rémy's torture device.
—¿Oh, that? Yeah, yeah. We made it
the boy had said quite casually just minutes earlier, while they were still walking toward the station. Now, holding the piece between her fingers, Utahime looked at him with undisguised intrigue. She confessed how excited she was for the long conversation they would have about its construction once they arrived in Kyoto. An artifact capable of exorcising spirits without the use of cursed energy was not something one saw every day.
—I can give you a spoiler —Rémy said.
—¿Right here? —Utahime asked, tilting her head.
Rémy rummaged through his pockets for a moment before pulling out a small, polished metal tube, roughly the size of a thick pen or a cigar. Its silvery surface gleamed faintly under the station lights. It featured a couple of tiny dials near the base, and when Rémy slid his thumb across a side button, the upper half of the cylinder extended upward with a soft, mechanical click. The interior was exposed, revealing a delicate glass compartment and a small light emitter with a reddish lens at the tip.
—¿Can you see the red part? —Rémy asked as he pointed to the object.
The three sorceresses stepped closer to get a better look, their brows furrowed. ¿Would such a tiny thing reveal something important to them?
—I don't think I understand you —said Utahime.
A flash of light erupted in total silence.
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—¿Professor? — Momo's voice snapped her back to reality like a bucket of cold water.
Utahime blinked, realizing she was no longer standing but reclining in the cushioned seat of a moving train car.
—I was just going over the mission report —Utahime replied, slightly surprised by her own words.
Utahime gave her head a slight shake, rubbing her temple to dispel a sudden wave of dizziness, and looked around. She was on the train back to Kyoto. Across from her, Mai was gazing at the countryside through the window with her usual look of boredom, while Momo typed away on her phone.
¡Right, the trip back!
They had come to deal with a swarm of minor curses and a primary spirit that was disrupting the weather in the mountainous area.
Everything had gone perfectly: a routine exorcism with no civilian casualties. A quick, hitch-free job, just as always.
Momo had cornered the spirit from the air, and Mai had exorcised it with a couple of precise shots, after losing a few teeth in the process.
Everything was in order; it was nothing out of the ordinary. And yet, something... felt off.
Despite being absolutely certain she had spent the last couple of days hunting monsters, her memories felt like a collection of disjointed photographs. Utahime had always prided herself on having a brilliant tactical memory. Feeling that heavy mental fog obscuring events that had supposedly just happened left a cold, strange hollowness in the pit of her stomach.
«¿Why is it so hard to remember?»
Movements, strategies, the senseless whining of one of her companions, or those occasional quips they'd toss out in the heat of battle... There was nothing. She watched the town recede through the window, that nagging feeling growing worse with every kilometer the train covered.
Could it be... ¿¡a curse that alters memories?!
It might just have been accumulated fatigue causing such discomfort, but the possibility that her brain, along with Momo's and Mai's, had been tampered with could not be ruled out.
With so many strange and unique techniques out there, the existence of one focused on memory erasure was hardly far-fetched. She considered turning back but immediately dismissed the idea. She had lost her memory once and made it out alive; while that experience had raised endless questions, she wouldn't risk losing a second time to whatever had caused this, only to end up truly dead, or even mind-controlled by the culprit.
Yes... that was the most sensible conclusion.
The priority now was to return to safe territory, organize countermeasures, and plan the perfect counterattack. She fixed her gaze on the train window, her pride wounded and her conscience uneasy at having abandoned the villagers to the mercy of such a lethal anomaly. But she would return to that place armed to the teeth.
And next time, she wouldn't let them mess with her mind.
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Rémy stood motionless, watching the train disappear into the distance. As soon as he was certain they were gone, his brazen, unflappable facade crumbled instantly. He let out a heavy sigh he had been holding back for a while; his heart pounded in his chest, and the involuntary trembling in his legs finally forced him to collapse onto a nearby bench.
—That was close... —he murmured, wiping the cold sweat from his face as a smile began to form.
From the shadows of a nearby alley, Shinji and Eric stepped out of hiding and walked toward the station. They stopped on either side of the bench and, in tense silence, mirrored their companion's posture, gazing at the horizon where the sorceresses had vanished.
—Yeah, problem solved, yu huu — said Eric. —¿Can we go now? I'm starving.
Meanwhile, Shinji focused his attention on the "memory-wiper", as Rémy called it, before looking him in the eye.
—You really exaggerated when you told us about that 'school.' All that stuff about becoming a sorcerer doesn't sound so bad...
Rémy instantly silenced him, pressing his index finger firmly against his lips while shaking his head vehemently.
—Don't let the marketing fool you, buddy. Con artists will say anything to sell you their garbage and ruin your life. ¿High salary? ¿Housing? None of that matters if they end up ripping your guts out. —He stood up and stepped right to the edge of the platform facing the tracks. —Sooner or later, we were bound to run into them, I always knew that. But this experience just confirms that, even if we don't do anything too big, we'll get dragged into troubles I'm not... troubles we aren't prepared for.— He shook his head. —I made a lot of mistakes. I actively ignored everyone's sarcastic comments about the changes in the weather, focused entirely on eliminating the curses without considering the implications of their existence, and even treated it like a game. —Slowly, he turned toward Shinji and Eric; the gleam in his eyes vanished. —But I won't do that anymore.
Rémy stepped forward. The sound of his sole against the platform floor was deliberate, devoid of any doubt that might have lingered in his heart until that moment.
Shinji and Eric stepped back at the exact same time, synchronized by a primal instinct for self-preservation. Cold sweat began to bead on Eric's forehead as he pulled his blue cap down over his ears, while Shinji glanced desperately from side to side, searching for an escape route that Rémy's figure seemed to block entirely.
—I don't have cursed energy. That idiot upstairs told me so to my face. I'm an empty vessel, a total zero who could never channel a single spark of sorcery. If I had to rely on my own body to survive a Grade 1 or Special Grade curse, I'd be turned to mush in less than three seconds. But the truth is, I've never needed cursed energy.
Rémy took another step. Eric and Shinji took two steps back, their heels already grazing the platform wall.
—Sorcerers, curses... if those idiots want to come for me, ¡then let them! —He cornered his two companions by slamming both arms against the wall, trapping them in the narrow space between his body and the station's concrete. —I'll use the skin of the first moron who comes looking for trouble to upholster my furniture, feed his guts to the rats, and then snap his neck. ¿You want trouble? ¡I'll give every single one of them endless trouble until they're begging their evil gods for the sweet relief of a final breath!
Yes… now everything was clear.
Running only wasted energy. Rémy refused to feel that fear again. That sense of powerlessness in the face of greater, unknown forces that believed they had the strength to do whatever they pleased with him.
—They think they have me cornered. They believe the rules of this place belong to them and that their power shields them. It's a quaint notion, but a mistaken one. They've confused my lack of arrogance with weakness, and my patience with vulnerability. The reality is far simpler. I won't ask for a defense or beg for mercy, I'll show them what happens when there are no alternatives left. Every advantage they boast of will become the trap that devours them from within. When they discover what it truly means to face me, there will be no room for negotiation, no place to hide, and no margin for error.
¡Not a single one!
Suddenly, a vibration rose from his throat. Rémy threw his head back at a sharp angle, aiming his face upward as his chest expanded in a sweeping motion. He leaned his torso slightly back, squaring his shoulders and holding his arms rigid at his sides, half-flexed, with fists clenched so tightly his knuckles cracked. A resounding peal of laughter erupted from his mouth, an explosion of unhinged, exuberant mirth that echoed off the station walls.
«Shit.» Shinji and Eric began to sweat.
He set to work immediately.
Rémy took the meat he had stockpiled in his system for his burgers, visited various fast-food joints, and swapped their product for his own. In less than two days, he had recouped the 10,000 units he had lost to an unfair debt. With his debts cleared, he launched a persuasion campaign across town. He visited local shop owners, acquaintances who trusted his word, and offered them deals that seemed miraculous. He sold butchers cuts of meat of unreal freshness and quality; boutiques, garments made of fabric with almost magical durability; and hardware stores, tools that never wore out.
All these items came from Rémy's system. Every time a customer wore those clothes or a family sat down to a dinner of that meat, the system logged the usage and credited his account. The slightest reaction or the faintest emotion was enough to fill his wallet while he did practically nothing.
He would sneak into the warehouses of the region's largest wholesale suppliers. Dodging dozing night watchmen and rusty padlocks, he used the "pawn shop" feature of his interface—which he had never needed until then— to spirit away crates of ordinary merchandise and replace them with his own before the delivery trucks rolled out at dawn.
He purchased an arsenal of state-of-the-art, undetectable, microscopic security cameras from the system's store. Leveraging his charm, his friendships with practically everyone in town, and a few outstanding favors, he went around offering "free infrastructure upgrades." He convinced school principals, owners of the tallest buildings, and managers of major intersections that he was doing them a personal favor by installing the equipment.
After all, people trusted him implicitly, thanks to all the favors he had done for them over the years.
Within weeks, there wasn't a single corner left that was safe. Sitting in the dim light of the replica room newly built inside Newt's briefcase, Rémy swiped a finger through the air. A swarm of translucent holographic panels unfolded before him, illuminating his face.
On one screen, he watched the schoolyard; on another, the alley behind the bar; on dozens more, every major street and rooftop in the town where two teenagers were getting up to their dirty business. And in the upper corner of his field of vision, a credit count climbed frantically, changing by the second. The entire town dressed, ate, and lived within the web of his system. He saw everything, controlled everything, and profited from everything.
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—BROADCAST ROYALTIES—
Status: Reward received.
Detail: You became the beginning and the end of your community.
¡Son of a bitch!
Economies controlled: All
Credits earned: 4,000
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Behind him lay a hundred weapons. Rifles arranged in perfectly ordered rows, along with practically the entire miniaturized arsenal used by the Evas in the anime.
Resting on the main racks were rows of Pallet Rifles and Positron Sniper Rifles, flanked by metal containers packed with Progressive Knives and N2 Mines. Hanging on the back wall, gleaming, were a Sonic Glaive, a Smash Hawk, a pair of tactical handguns, and the imposing Magorox Exterminate Sword.
Right next to the apocalyptic explosives sat a pyramid of Member Berries jars and a gleaming Okama Gamesphere. On the lower shelves, a collection of Chinpokomon shared space with stacked boxes of the Alabama Man action figure, several cardboard Awesom-O costumes and talking Terrance and Phillip figures.
—Come and get me, you bastards.
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— REWARD 6/6 (RANK C) —
TYPE: TECH ARTIFACT / MEMORY ALTERER
NAME: Neuralyzer
WORLD OF ORIGIN: Men in Black
A sleek, small metal cylinder with a minimalist design, featuring an adjustable red dial and a powerful light flash at the tip. System records indicate it is the preferred tool of a top-secret government agency dedicated to monitoring extraterrestrial activity, and that its use is always accompanied by an impeccable black suit and dark sunglasses.
PRIMARY EFFECT: Selective erasure. Upon firing the flash, it instantly wipes the recent memories of any living being looking directly at the light without eye protection. The user can adjust the dial to erase anything from the last five minutes to weeks' worth of memories.
SECONDARY EFFECT: Suggestion window. Immediately after the flash, victims enter a trance-like state. The wielder has a brief window to spin a fabricated story that will seamlessly replace the erased memories in the target's mind.
DRAWBACK: The device does not distinguish between friends, enemies, or the user themselves. A moment of carelessness —failing to wear protective eyewear— will result in the wielder losing their own memories, leaving them in the midst of an existential crisis, wondering why they are holding a metal cylinder.
NOTE: The system recommends having logical excuses ready before triggering the flash. Attempting to convince a sorcerer that the giant monster they just saw was merely "swamp gas reflecting the light of Venus" has an alarmingly low success rate.