Chapter 7: Big Daddy Raga's Home

Chapter Summary: 

Jin: The end of an era! Again! Get fired up, you lot! Hopefully, we can finally wrap up the first arc, unless of course our dear Author wrote way too much agai—GAH! Did you just pistol-whip my beautiful face?!

Author (still holding a Beretta 92FS): Don’t give me that lip, boy! Do you have any idea how hard it is to keep the word count down when the creative juices are exploding out like a shaken can of Diet Coke?!

Jin: First of all, that imagery is really gros— Wait. This is the chapter with Mahoraga, right?!

Author (quirks brow): You read the title, didn’t you?

Jin: Let’s fucking GOOOOOOOO!

Is it Wrong to have Comedic Potential in the Dungeon?

JJK Narrator’s Daughter POV

The recently kidnapped, disembodied voice, after calming down from her unsolicited multiversal trek courtesy of the machinations of a celestial amphibian, cleared her throat with a few theatrical “mi-mi-mi,” the giddiness palpable in her inflection.

(Though she couldn’t help but muse over the fact that, instead of lizard people, it was an axolotl who ruled the planes of existence.)

For those who wondered why her voice rang so oddly familiar, it was because they were hearing the same unmistakable pitch and cadence she’d inherited from her mother—the infamous Narrator of Jujutsu Kaisen. Yes, her mom is the most iconic narrator since the Big Three themselves.

(Better than the Bleach narrator, in her humble opinion. Oh, yeah, bitch—she’s absolutely going there. Her mom dunks on that Soul Society soundbox.)

But that was neither here nor there. She had other uses for her inherited voice trained to perfection since childhood—By the DBZ Narrator, she loved being a Nepo Baby—than graciously taking the opportunity to brag about having the coolest sounding mama in the world.

Now, onto her first professional narration (not directed by her daddy)!

If one were to ask Fushiguro Dosojin whether he felt that secretly taming for his next match would be as difficult for him as it would be for Fushiguro Megumi—cursed energy boost from Dosojin’s death obviously included—he simply laughed.

The urchin-haired young man, high off his recent power-ups and victories, stated that Megumi Fushiguro would never even conceive the cunning strategies and tactics his cultured brain could conjure.

(Though when he said it, he mangled the name of his body’s previous owner by slipping the word “Bum” into it.)

When she pressed him further on the methods he would use to make the taming easier for himself—ignoring his comment about how mesmerizing her voice is, like a professional—he responded:

“Oh, trust me. There’s more than one way to de-tusk a Barbie Dumbo, with a squirt gun sold separately.”

“Push-ups, sit-ups, and plenty of juice make a little wabbit hunting easy as pie. It’s the Elmer Fudge-approved method.”

“Want me to set you up with Inumaki? I feel like you two would vibe. Unless, of course… you want someone who can be as loud as you in bed.”

(She did not affirm the huskily uttered words flowing from the rouge-ishly curved lips of the amused sorcerer, but she did not disagree with them.)

She would come to find… that he, in fact, had no such methods, as demonstrated by his ultimately successful yet extremely frustrating attempt at taming Escape Rabbits.

∼5 Minutes Later∼

Tears streamed down the cheek of a drenched Jujutsu Sorcerer—courtesy of a certain pink elephant—as his form performed the Dogeza of Defeat: dropping to his knees, falling forward with arms outstretched and head bowed.

It did not help that he was surrounded by a rapidly multiplying, fluffy fellowship of heckling Shikigami. It was tiring enough to kill nearly a hundred of these carrot-eaters but having each replaced by a baker's dozen was debilitating for the soul.

He yelled, with sobbing hiccups, “I wanna! Sniff! I wanna be a Rabbit Shikigami Master!” The heir to the Zenin beat his fist into the ground with the fury of the unfortunately hairlined Prince, shouting, “I wanna! I wanna! I wanna! I wanna! I wanna! I wanna!—”

…Honestly? She’d still let him rock her world.

Arc 1: The Cursed Hero 

Chapter 7: Big Daddy Raga’s Home

Narrator’s Voiceover:

Van the Flint was a Level 4—one of the strongest in the city, in fact—yet still only a Level 4. Even so, combined with his strongest skill and exceptional magic, he could stand toe-to-toe with any of his stronger Level 5 brethren, the Gulliver brothers. 

This was no mere conjecture either; those words came from the mouth of the eldest brother, Alfrigg, himself.

Yet Fushgro Dosojin’s face was carved from stone. Mourning Tiger could mutilate its own body for a temporary reinforcement boost indefinitely, so long as Deer kept healing it. Combined with the kamikaze attacks of the Rabbits, his Shikigami were more than a match for this empowered adventurer.

(If the little cloners supposedly carried weapons in their shadows, as according to Goddess Freya’s deduction, that proved an even truer statement.)

Whether they could maintain the battle long enough to wear Van down for their stampeding coup de grâce, when the last of the Shikigami would join the fray to finish the job and claim victory, remained to be seen.

The combatants were now nearly shaking with anticipation. Many spectators were similarly on edge, their breath caught in their throats, their palms slick with perspiration, their hearts burning with jealousy at the display of Blessed and Cursed prowess.

Even the executives, when looking past their own envy of this sorcerer who had captivated their goddess so, would begrudgingly give Dosojin his deserved flowers for his riveting display.

The brood of halfling craftsmen would grant him a sunflower, acknowledging the loyalty, solidarity, and camaraderie displayed between him and his Shikigami.

The wise king would confer upon him a crimson tiger lily, recognizing his fellow yet amateur strategist’s cunning, patience, and courage.

The foolish king gave him a purple rose, honoring his fellow denzin of darkness’s gladiatorial prowess, spartan mental fortitude, and samuraian skill with arms.

The wrathful chariot would shove an iris at him, conceding his predatorial gait, shared love of pole weapons, and starvation for power between himself and his urchin-haired foe.

The Divinely Ordained King would offer him edelweiss, hoping that he would have the drive, fearlessness, eye for beauty, and scorching love to reach for it and pluck it from her hands, so high—

(To reach for her and take her away from the golden cage he had watched her languish in like a starving piglet).

The Nameless Mirror, reflecting the faces of a broken goddess, a fanatical zealot, and an inquisitive hostess, awaited their destined fourth to complete them.

The stage was set, the actors had donned their garb and slipped into the skin of their theatric personas. Now only the snap of the director’s fingers was needed to signal the curtains to rise.

The snap rang out like the stomping hooves of a cursed bovine.

[Blame a certain reader of mine for driving my muse into high gear and making me sexy this chapter up. The flower allegories, this fic getting its own Narrator, and a few other touches all came from our discussions, which helped connect a few dots in my brain to improve this chapter. This is the first 1K+ words; the remaining ~6K will be released in two or three days.

I want to clarify that the chapter is already written and proofread. I’m just giving it a little extra shine for future character interactions---especially the romantic ones---as well as the history of the Ten Shadows’ creation and the acquisition of Mahoraga.

I’ve already started working on Chapter 8, and that one will be released by the end of November. In fact, Chapter 8 has been made much easier thanks to my muse being kicked into overdrive.

I'm leaving this here as a little treat ;)]