The yellow flash of jujutsu high

Vigilante work {56}

Weeks turned into months, and Keitaro became a silent guardian, a phantom healer you might say,flitting across the Indian landscape. By day, he rested and replenished his reserves, the toll of using RCT a constant drain. While also taking his time to meditate and work his body to its peak condition.
He spent hours learning more about the soul and more time understanding curse energy wile his reserve were drained but as the sun dipped below the horizon, a different Keitaro emerged.

Cloaked in darkness and a simple disguise – a worn shawl pulled over his head, obscuring most of his features – he ventured out. His mission: to heal the sick and cleanse the polluted. He wasn't driven by money or fame. His only request, a silent pact with the people he helped: respect the water. Don't sully it again.

He became a whispered legend, a benevolent spirit flitting through the night. In one village, he'd appear under the cloak of darkness, his touch radiating warmth as he healed a child ravaged by fever. In another, he'd stand by a stagnant, fetid pond, his hand outstretched as the murky water shimmered and transformed, returning to its former vibrancy.

News of his deeds spread organically, passed in hushed tones around crackling fires and bustling marketplaces. Some called him a miracle worker, others a divine spirit. But Keitaro remained a mystery, a fleeting shadow glimpsed under the silver cloak of night.

He understood the risks.  Revealing his true identity would lead to more trouble than it was worth and thus he decided to instead be a vigilante, he much prefer staying incognito. So, he embraced the role of a benevolent spirit, a creature of legend whispered about but never truly seen. His methods were unorthodox, defying the boundaries of traditional medicine and environmental science. But the results were undeniable.

One moonlit night, he stood on the banks of the Yamuna River, its once-proud flow now choked with industrial waste. A sense of urgency gnawed at him. This river, a lifeline for millions, needed his intervention more than any other. He closed his eyes, feeling Akane's calming presence beside him. With a deep breath, he channeled his RCT, the familiar drain pulling at his reserves.

The river, sensing the change, churned and roiled. Hours bled into the night as Keitaro persisted, the polluted water swirling and cleansing under his touch. As dawn approached, painting the sky with streaks of pink and orange, Keitaro stumbled back, his body depleted. Yet, a satisfied smile graced his lips. The Yamuna, though far from pristine, was on its way to recovery.

Deciding to speed thing up a bit,he decided to speed up the process making sure to purify the whole river no matter the cost.

Pov change

Anjali, a wisp of a girl with eyes as dark as the approaching night, sat on a weathered stone overlooking the lake. Despair clung to her like a shroud. Just a few days ago, the lake, usually a vibrant heart of the village, had become a stagnant pond, lifeless and fetid. The fish had died, the birds had flown, and a heavy silence hung in the air.

Tonight, however, something strange was happening. As the moon cast an ethereal glow on the water, a cloaked figure emerged from the shadows. Anjali, usually wary of strangers, found herself strangely unafraid. The figure moved with a quiet grace, their hands outstretched towards the lake.

A tingling sensation filled the air, like a thousand tiny bells chiming in unison. Anjali watched, mesmerized, as the dead water began to shimmer. A swirling vortex of colors erupted at the figure's touch, and the stench that had choked the air began to dissipate.

Intrigued, Anjali leaned forward, her heart pounding a frantic rhythm against her ribs. As the figure raised their hands, a flash of moonlight caught a loose bandage on their arm. It slipped, revealing a single strand of hair – a startling, vibrant yellow. But before Anjali could gasp or blink, the figure vanished, leaving behind only the sound of lapping water.

Anjali stared, dumbfounded, at the spot where the figure had stood. The tingling sensation lingered, and a sweet, clean smell replaced the stench. Slowly, tentatively, she turned her gaze towards the lake.

Her breath hitched. The water, once murky and lifeless, was now crystal clear. Moonlight danced on its surface, reflecting the twinkling stars above. Fish, alive and vibrant, darted through the depths. The silence that had been oppressive was replaced by the gentle chirping of crickets returning to the water's edge.

Anjali's mind raced. Who was that figure? A magician? A divine being? The stories her grandmother told of benevolent spirits, Yakshas who protected nature and brought good fortune, flooded her mind. Could it have been one of them?

A/N he has been in India for like 4 months now,and so far his progress as just been pretty insane.
If you pay close attention to it you will see it.

Keitaro in a sense is kind of selfish as he is doing this to also improve his RCT, like where else would he get a chance to use it so much.
Under normal circumstances there would no way he would make such progress under such circumstances but doing to his heroic work.

He can now heal poison in his body and other people, he can see his soul and somewhat reinforce it.
His RCT Output increased drastically and his knowledge of curse energy has exploded....