Time Skip
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With the flow of wind a gentle breeze carries a lone leaf through an open window pane, the glass rattling softly as the air pressure shifts, and the leaf drifts slowly onto a wooden desk worn smooth by years of use. But before it can touch the surface, before gravity can complete its claim, the leaf stops—for a brief second so subtle it would go unnoticed by anyone lacking refined perception.
Then, as if the world itself resumes its breath, the leaf drifts again—
now split cleanly into two, each half gliding away from the boy seated there.
His head, previously resting between his arms against the desk, tilts upward at that exact moment.
The two halves of the leaf pass by his face on opposite sides, their edges so clean they look carved by intention rather than force.
Gojo:
Your spacing out in class… ooohhh, if Yaga-sensei sees this, he's gonna be real mad.
I glance toward the annoying blue-eyed fraud, the man only known for being given everything at birth—talent, lineage, techniques, and limitless arrogance wrapped neatly behind a grin that never seems to fade.
Kai:
I truly don't understand… how am I in the same class as you first-year students? I'm not even old enough to attend this school, let alone sit through lectures like this.
With the faint sound of a curse spirit's soft, almost birdlike cry, I turn my head slightly to see Geto calmly playing with a small hummingbird-shaped curse spirit. Its wings vibrate with low cursed energy, creating a quiet hum as it perches on his finger, completely docile under his control.
Geto:
Well, you have been leaving the school grounds for the past seven months now, disappearing without warning and returning whenever you feel like it.
So now you're forced to be here, where we can keep an eye on you—whether you like it or not.
And beside me sits a girl with bob-length brown hair and cheerful eyes that don't quite hide the exhaustion beneath them, her posture relaxed but attentive as she leans slightly toward the conversation.
Shoko:
Yes, and we also heard that the people who wiped out your clan are still out there, moving quietly in the shadows.
So it's really not safe for you to be outside the school alone right now, no matter how strong you are.
Gojo:
Yeah, yeah—then why can't we just go take care of them already?
I bet they're curse users anyway, so we'd be killing two birds with one stone. Less paperwork for later, right?
The classroom air shifts.
With the sound of the door sliding open, a tall man with broad shoulders and rectangular glasses steps inside. The atmosphere tightens almost immediately, and Gojo turns toward him with a sheepish grin that does nothing to hide his complete lack of remorse.
Yaga:
Gojo, I hope you understand that doing something like that could expose the jujutsu world to non-sorcerers.
And that would go against everything we stand for here.
Yaga pauses, adjusting his stance.
Yaga:
And besides… I think Kai would like to be the one to decide their fate.
Yaga's expression softens slightly as he looks toward Kai, noticing that Kai is once again spaced out—this time staring through the classroom window, his gaze fixed on the drifting clouds far above Tokyo.
The sky feels distant.
Unreachable.
Yet familiar.
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Far away, in another location entirely—
An older man in his late forties kneels within a darkened room, his face hidden by shadows cast from flickering candlelight. He wears the traditional garments of the Kamo clan, heavy with history and expectation. Across from him kneels a younger man, his face concealed behind a mask as he relays information in a measured, respectful tone.
Aoi:
Clan Head… it is as the prophecy foretold.
The boy is young, but the Star Plasma religious group attacked the Kurai clan—the branch family—but their efforts were fruitless.
The boy survived.
Aoi lowers his head slightly.
Aoi:
And intelligence suggests he is now residing within Tokyo Jujutsu High.
What do you instruct me to do?
The candlelight flickers violently as the clan head leans forward, emerging from the darkness. His face is finally revealed under the dim glow—aged, sharp, calculating—
and across his forehead runs a disturbing line of stitches, uneven and unmistakably deliberate.
Renji:
For now… we wait.
Renji's fingers tap lightly against his knee.
Renji:
I have plans that are not yet set in stone.
You may leave for now—and inform me of any changes immediately.
Aoi Kamo rises smoothly from his kneeling position, bows deeply, then turns away. He slips on his shoes at the doorway, pauses only for a second, and closes the door behind him with a quiet click.
The room remains still.
Then—
The candlelight flares suddenly, illuminating the wide, unsettling grin spreading across Renji Kamo's face. The stitched line across his forehead twists as his expression sharpens with anticipation.
Renji:
Well… it seems like everything is building up quite nicely.
His eyes glint with interest.
Renji:
What will you do, Kai…?
How will your existence shape my plans?
A sudden breeze rushes through the room, snuffing out the candle flames in an instant.
The light dies.
The warmth vanishes.
And the room is swallowed once more by darkness.
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Kai POV
The world doesn't look the same anymore.
I don't mean that metaphorically, not in the way people say "everything feels different when your the strongest."
No—
the "world itself"has changed in my eyes.
I stand alone at the edge of the training grounds, far from the main buildings of Jujutsu High, where the forest thickens and the air grows heavy with cursed residue that never fully fades. The wind brushes past my face, cool and constant, carrying with it the scent of soil, bark, and something faintly metallic—iron mixed with lingering curse energy.
I stare into the distance.
And the distance stares back.
Through my eyes, space is no longer empty. It isn't a void separating objects. It's structured,—layered with invisible lines, vectors, pressure gradients, micro-fluctuations in cursed flow and physical force. Every tree, every leaf, every breath of air exists inside a web of relationships that I can now ,feel rather than think about.
I lift my gaze slightly and whisper.
…Dismantle.
There is no hand sign. No chant. Not even intent sharp enough to be called aggression.
The space ahead of me splits.
A distant tree shudders as several branches shear off cleanly, the cuts so precise that the leaves don't fall immediately. For half a second they hang there, suspended, before gravity remembers its role and pulls them down in a slow, drifting spiral.
I didn't aim.
I didn't need to.
That's the frightening part.
Is this what it's like to be the strongest.
My eyes follow the falling leaves, and without meaning to—
…Dismantle.
The leaves are halved midair, then quartered, thin slivers fluttering apart like green snow. The air ripples softly, a delayed reaction to space being cut and stitched back together.
I exhale.
This power… it doesn't feel heavy in the way brute force does. It doesn't roar or demand release like it used too . It's quiet. Constant. Always there. Like the awareness of breathing—something I don't notice until I think about it.
And that's what scares me.
Because I know this is not even the beginning of my peak .
The sun representing my potential is only judged dawned, far from its summit or it's dusk.
I look down at my hands. They're steady. No tremble. No strain. My body has adapted frighteningly well to this level already, as if it had been waiting to catch up to my perception.
Toji's words echo in my mind.
"It's time to see your Grade."
Grade 2.
That's what he said I am now.
I know, I could even survive an encounter with a Semi Grade 1 .
But grades feel meaningless when my perception keeps widening, stretching beyond what labels can define. I can tell when someone shifts their weight before they move. I can sense tension in muscles, distortion in space, hesitation in intent. Even without cursed energy, the world gives everything away,
" how hospitable"
Is this what Gojo feels like?
No…
It's different.
Gojo overwhelms the world. He bends it to his will through infinity, through dominance so absolute that nothing reaches him unless he allows it. What I feel isn't dominance.
The rules of the world lay bare to me .
The more clearly I see, the harder it is to look away.
I glance toward another cluster of trees farther out, their branches swaying gently. Without shifting my stance—
…Dismantle.
A line appears through the forest, invisible until it isn't. Bark peels. Wood splits. Leaves rain down in a quiet cascade. The cut is so clean it looks unreal .
I lower my head slightly.
This must be the weight of the strongest.
Not arrogance.
Not pride.
But the creeping realization that "if something breaks", it might be because I was there—and chose not to act.
"But I can bare it, thoses who bare the deepest of burdens.. must claim the greatest strength".
My thoughts drift, unbidden.
Toji.
I see him clearly in my mind—the lazy grin, the beach chair, the glass of lemonade, the way he pretends not to care while watching everything. A man with zero cursed energy ,who still walks in this cursed world like nothing in the world can touch him.
A man who, according to the future I remember, will die.
Now that I think about it he was the previous generation's Strongest, I guess this generation's current strongest should be Yuki Tsukumo .
And when toji the previous strongest is
Killed by Gojo.
Why..
Because of fate.
Because of pride.
Because of a collision that didn't have to happen.
My jaw tightens.
I slice the space again without thinking.
…Dismantle.
Boom..
A distant trunk cracks in half, collapsing with a heavy thud that sends birds scattering into the sky. The sound echoes longer than it should, like the forest itself only knows the weight that was lifted.
I clench my fist.
I've come too far to accept that future as inevitable.
Seven months ago, I was struggling to survive against semi–Grade 2 curses. I had power, yes—but it was raw, unstable, barely refined . Now my technique moves faster than thought. My perception stretches into spaces I don't fully understand yet. My body reacts before my own fear of death!.. can even form.
And this is just the beginning.
If I keep growing like this…
If I keep stacking binding vows, refining perception, sharpening my body and my control of curse energy —
Then maybe…
Maybe I can interfere.
Maybe I can stand between Toji and Gojo when the time comes. Maybe I can disrupt that fatal moment by a fraction of a second. Maybe I can redirect fate just enough that death chooses a different path.
I look up at the sky.
At least this is not for myself, but for Emi.
Clouds drift slowly, ignorant of my thoughts, unaware of how fragile the future truly is.
…Dismantle.
The cloud doesn't split, of course—but the space beneath it does, and the pressure ripple creates a sudden vacuum that tears a clean arc through the treetops below. Leaves explode outward, branches snapping as if struck by an unseen blade that separates the clouds, revealing the sky behind of ocean blue.
I breathe in.
And
I breathe out.
Strength alone won't be enough.
I need control.
Timing.
No I need a plan.
I need to grow not just stronger—but smarter.
Because the strongest don't just destroy.
They decide what deserves to be protected.
Look at me I might end up like the Curse king, if I continue along this path.
And when the time comes—
when fate reaches for Toji—
I won't just watch.
I'll cut the space between death and life itself.
No matter what it costs.
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The shadow stretched further, swallowing the ground at my feet as the curse spirit fully emerged into the open.
It was grotesque in a way that made the air feel heavier just by existing.
A single, massive eye sat in the center of its head, bloodshot and twitching, veins pulsing like living worms beneath translucent flesh. Its lower body was unmistakably insectoid—a cockroach abdomen plated in chitin, segmented and glossy, dragging against the earth with a wet, scraping sound. From its sides protruded burly, humanoid limbs, muscles knotted unnaturally, each movement cracking the ground beneath it as if the soil itself recoiled from its weight. A foul stench rolled outward—rot, oil, and stagnant curse energy mixed together.
My perception automatically adjusted.
I could see the pressure it exerted on the air, the way space warped slightly around its joints when it moved. Its cursed energy output wasn't refined, but it was dense—thick and aggressive, like a blunt instrument.
Then—
Footsteps.
Calm. Unhurried.
I didn't turn immediately. I already knew who it was.
Geto Suguru's presence was distinct—not overwhelming like Gojo's, not sharp like a blade, but deep, layered. Like a forest filled with unseen predators. Beside him, Gojo's cursed energy buzzed faintly even when suppressed, irritatingly bright, like a light you couldn't turn off. And then there was the third presence—cool, focused, predatory in a different way.
I turned my head slightly.
Geto stood with his hands tucked into his sleeves, expression neutral but observant. Gojo lounged beside him with his usual careless posture, blindfold tilted just enough to be annoying. And standing just behind them, arms crossed, was a woman with long white hair tied neatly into a ponytail, sharp black eyelashes framing eyes that missed nothing.
Mei Mei.
I felt it immediately.
Not fear—but calculation .Her gaze wasn't curious like Gojo's or evaluative like Geto's. It was transactional. She was already deciding whether I was worth the investment.
Kai:
"So that must be Geto's curse spirit… and is that Mei Mei with Gojo."
Geto gave a small nod, his eyes never leaving me.
Geto:
"It's time for our spar, Kai. To see if all these months not training with us has yielded you something."
I didn't respond right away.
Instead, I let my gaze drift—past Geto, past Gojo—and settle on Mei Mei.
Our eyes met.
There was a brief pause.
Then I spoke.
Kai:
"Is that the Grade 1 sorcerer that's also the only fourth-year student of Jujutsu High here? I thought fourth-year students were meant to be strong… special-grade-level sorcerers."
For a fraction of a second, something sharp flashed behind Mei Mei's eyes.
Interest.
Gojo, on the other hand, exploded into laughter.
Gojo:
"Hahahaha! Hear that, Mei Mei? Even non–Jujutsu High sorcerers think you're weak for a fourth-year student!"
Mei Mei sighed theatrically, placing a hand over her chest.
Mei Mei:
"Aww, that really hurts my heart. I thought a cute boy like you would have more usages than just a Brute ."
A chill ran down my spine.
Not because of intimidation.
Because I remembered exactly what kind of person Mei Mei was.
I made a mental note to never be alone with her.
Geto's voice cut through the moment, calm but firm.
Geto:
"You should really focus on your opponent when you're in combat."
More footsteps approached.
Shoko walked in lazily, hands in her coat pockets, Yaga following behind her with his usual stern expression. Their arrival shifted the atmosphere—less playful now, more… official.
Observers.
Shoko:
"You know, I'm not an in-game status recovery buff, guys."
Gojo and Mei Mei responded at the same time.
Mei Mei:
"True. But you hold far more value than just a mere video game."
Her tone was cool, measured—completely different from Gojo, whose cockiness practically leaked into the air.
Gojo:
"That's 'cause you're nerfing me! Hmmm, what kind of explanation for Reverse Cursed Technique is ,fwoo then hyoi… ugh!"
Shoko let out a small laugh, shaking her head.
Shoko:
"What do you mean? It's so simple. You're just not smart enough to get it. I guess even the great Six Eyes can't see everything."
I spoke without thinking.
Kai:
"I understand it."
Silence.
Kai:
"It's not that hard, really—once you get the principle of how cursed energy works."
Gojo froze.
Then he snapped his head toward me so fast it was almost violent, eyes wide beneath his blindfold as he rushed over.
Mei Mei turned too, her interest no longer subtle.
Only Geto stayed still, eyes narrowing slightly.
Gojo:
"Wait—you understand her?! Tell me. Tell me!"
Mei Mei:
"Well now… I'm starting to like you again. That kind of information could fetch a very high price on the market."
Every gaze locked onto me.
Expectation. Curiosity. Greed.
I tilted my head slightly.
Kai:
"Nah. I'd gatekeep."
Their expressions cracked.
Kai:
"Why should I tell you? It's funny watching you all struggle. Plus, I don't want to lessen your enlightenment. It'll be more satisfying when you finally understand it yourselves."
Gojo looked personally betrayed.
I turned back to Geto, my attention snapping into place like a blade locking into its sheath.
Kai:
"Oh—back to our battle. Or spar, whichever you prefer."
The curse spirit behind him shifted, letting out a low, grinding screech that vibrated through the ground.
Kai:
"But I'll say this now… you're going to lose a lot of curse spirits today."
Geto's eyes sharpened.
Kai:
"Don't worry. I'll help you refill your stock."
The wind picked up.
My long raven-black hair and blindfold swayed gently as the breeze passed through the clearing. I stood relaxed—arms at my sides, posture loose, weight balanced perfectly. No aggression. No tension.
Just readiness.
The forest seemed to hold its breath.
The curse spirit's single eye locked onto me, its cursed energy surging outward in a heavy wave. Geto adjusted his stance slightly, one hand lifting just enough to command.
I felt it then—
That familiar stillness.
The quiet before violence.
All that could be heard was the rustling of leaves, the distant cry of insects, and the slow, steady rhythm of our breathing.
Then—
The spar was about to begin.