Early March.
The suburbs of Tokyo unfolded into a sea of fresh green forest.
Two figures climbed the ancient stone steps one behind the other after stepping out of the taxi.
The weather had turned mild. Asou Akiya, dressed in the spring student uniform, dragged two heavy suitcases behind him. He had arrived a full month early to report to Tokyo Jujutsu High.
Sweat beaded on his forehead as he followed Yaga-sensei, but every time he glanced down at his uniform, a quiet, heartfelt smile tugged at his lips.
This was the dream Yoshino Junpei never got to touch, even in death.
Some people never set foot inside these grounds no matter how desperately they wished.
Some people rewrote their fate with nothing but foreknowledge and sheer will.
This enrollment had been ruthlessly frugal. He had said goodbye to everyone he knew in the normal world and packed everything he was allowed to take from the children's home—determined to sever ties with ordinary society and plant roots in the jujutsu world for good.
Yaga glanced sideways at him, mildly surprised that this particular problem child hadn't demanded uniform modifications.
"You're really not altering the uniform?"
"No need. It's perfect as it is. The design is practical, honestly the best possible choice."
Akiya sincerely praised whoever had designed it: classic black, stain-resistant fabric with good stretch, a single golden spiral button at the collar. Tailored fit that made his posture look ramrod straight and his legs elegantly long.
"Weird thing to say," Yaga muttered, suspicion creeping in.
The uniform sent to the Gojo estate had also been the basic model.
That young master hadn't complained… or rather, he had been too lazy to complain.
As they walked, Yaga began the orientation.
"Full name: Tokyo Metropolitan Jujutsu Technical College. One of only two institutions in Japan that train sorcerers. Five-year program. Free dorms and utilities. No summer vacation—in exchange, the other breaks are extended. After graduation your diploma can be issued under the name of any regular university. The campus is in the Tokyo suburbs. There's a bus that stops at the station nearby. If you want to go shopping, a bicycle works."
Akiya inwardly sighed again: no summer break. The jujutsu world really did run hell-mode vacations.
"Five years?" he asked aloud.
He strongly suspected that, thirteen years from now, Gojo Satoru—feeling his own three high-school years had been tragically short—would unilaterally change the system back to three years so Itadori Yuji and the others could graduate faster.
"Starting fourth year, classes become optional. Students take missions independently. Most move off-campus, so you'll rarely see fourth- or fifth-years around," Yaga explained. "First-years are usually fourteen to sixteen. Very few come from sorcerer clans."
Akiya's thoughts drifted to the two soon-to-appear upperclassmen: Ieiri Shoko and… no, wait—second-years would be Iori Utahime and Zen'in Mei Mei? No, timeline…
"How many second-years are there?" he asked carefully.
"Zero," Yaga answered flatly. "Wild sorcerers are rare. We had no admissions last year."
"And third-years?"
"Two."
They continued up the endless steps, bathed in the solemn, sacred atmosphere of Tokyo Jujutsu High. Akiya listened with rapt attention, soaking up details the anime had never bothered to explain.
Then Yaga asked, almost casually, "We have scholarships. Do you want to apply?"
Akiya smiled and shook his head. "Thank you, sensei, but I'm fine. My expenses are small."
Yaga hesitated, then delivered the cruel truth.
"There's no cafeteria."
The confident smile on Asou Akiya's face froze solid.
Yaga Masamichi saw, for the first time, the black-haired boy lose his composure.
"Changed your mind?"
Akiya asked cautiously, "Is there at least a campus store? How are the prices?"
"There's a general shop," Yaga replied. "And expensive—it includes domestic and international shipping."
There's no cafeteria, but sorcerers earned decent money; everyone was used to eating out.
"Anything sold in the outside world can be ordered. It's one of the few perks students get."
Akiya closed his eyes, unwilling to calculate living costs on the outskirts of Tokyo.
"It's still better than Kyoto High," Yaga consoled. "They don't even have a shop."
Akiya bowed his head, pressed his palms together in prayer, and asked, "Sensei… I can cook. Could I borrow a bicycle?"
Yaga looked at the boy who still refused scholarship money despite everything.
"Fine."
Pride was a good thing.
Exorcism pay wasn't bad. Once the new students could take missions, the lean days would be over.
The campus sprawled across the mountains, ancient buildings rising among the trees. Aside from power lines and streetlamps, almost nothing betrayed the twenty-first century.
Yaga led the first-year on a campus tour that doubled as endurance training.
Good thing Akiya had kept up his morning runs—he would have collapsed otherwise.
"First-year boys' dorm is here. Separate from the girls'."
Yaga stopped in front of a single-story traditional building facing south, sunlight pouring over the veranda. Beside it lay a meticulously raked dry-landscape garden and a mountain path lined with layered vermilion torii disappearing into the forest.
Yaga waved at Akiya, who was lagging several meters behind with the suitcases.
"Come pick your room."
Akiya parked the luggage at the entrance and followed. The wooden corridor creaked softly beneath their feet; a profound Japanese stillness settled over them, as though the twenty-first century had been left behind at the bottom of the stairs.
Doors lined only one side of the hallway—spacious, but clearly thin-walled.
Yaga leaned against the window at the far end, looking suddenly tired, and pointed to the three doors in the very center that had been merged into one giant suite.
"Anywhere except there."
Akiya drew closer and saw the nameplate:
GOJO
Classic Gojo Clan—claiming the best spot in advance.
Yaga noticed his stare. "Curious? That belongs to one of your future classmates. It's already been renovated and the walls knocked through on both sides."
Akiya's eyes lit up with genuine delight. "Sensei, may I take a peek inside?"
Yaga shook his head. "I don't have the key. Even if I did, I wouldn't open it."
Akiya: "...Right."
He had almost forgotten—privacy was sacred in this line of work.
Without hesitation he chose the room farthest from Gojo's palace: the very first door on the left.
It was closest to the entrance—convenient for coming and going, wouldn't disturb his classmates' sleep.
Downside: noisier; he'd hear every footstep in the corridor.
Upside: anyone returning to Gojo's suite would have to pass his door.
The Six Eyes would skim the cursed-energy signature inside whether they meant to or not.
Yaga flipped the breaker for that room, then pushed open the unlocked wooden door—it opened outward.
He gestured for Akiya to bring the suitcases in.
Akiya stepped inside and froze.
"Wow…"
It hit him like a gift: the largest, most beautiful single room he had ever been given.
Full kitchen with range hood, air conditioning, washing machine, fridge. Tatami bedroom, floor-to-ceiling windows flooding the space with light. The bed—rare 150 × 200 cm solid wood—was placed right beside the window, clearly designed for tall, still-growing male sorcerers.
Open-plan kitchen, private bathroom.
In Tokyo terms, he had just been handed his own apartment.
"Here."
Yaga handed over two dorm keys and two important cards.
Akiya's fingers curled instinctively the moment they touched the plastic.
He ignored the bank card entirely. His eyes locked on the student ID.
[Tokyo Metropolitan Jujutsu Technical College]
[Student Number …]
[Name: Asou Akiya]
[Date of Birth: January 10, 1990]
First row: school name.
Second row: student number.
Third row: his name.
Fourth row: his birthday.
Fifth row: description.
Sixth row: black barcode.
On the right side was his fifteen-year-old portrait—black hair, eyes looking straight ahead, expression perfectly calm.
In the upper-left corner, inside a small circle, was written a single character: 四
"Fourth-grade sorcerer, Asou Akiya," he whispered, tasting the words.
"I requested it specially," Yaga said, voice low. "I reported to Headquarters that your raw cursed-energy output is fourth-grade, but your control and application are at solid third-grade level. You can reliably exorcise fourth-grades and some third-grades. Don't feel it's too low. This is your starting line in the jujutsu world."
"I understand."
Akiya listened with the earnestness of someone used to being scolded.
He was more than satisfied.
This was his Tokyo Jujutsu High first-year ID.
"Keys, ID, bank card—keep them safe. Replacements are a nightmare."
Yaga clapped him on the shoulder. Beneath the thin muscle he felt bone—sharp, underfed, scarred.
A reminder that this was no sturdy athlete, but an orphan who had clawed his way here carrying wounds no one could see.
Whatever—or whoever—stood behind the boy, Yaga had no intention of digging.
Good students were rare. He would treasure this one.
"Settle in. If you forget to bring food, come eat at my place. When the other new students arrive, I'll call you to greet them together."
Akiya asked, almost offhand, "There are three of them, right?"
Yaga's expression shifted. He stared until Akiya murmured, "Sorry."
"Knowing too much isn't always good."
"I… won't do anything unnecessary."
Akiya dipped his head obediently. Backlit by the floor-to-ceiling window, morning light from the forest softened his profile, lending him the fragile air common to late-blooming sorcerers.
Everything he did was simply so he could attend this school.
He wasn't afraid of Yaga looking deeper.
If transmigrators could choose their birth in the Jujutsu Kaisen world, of course he would have picked one of the Three Great Families—born with a monstrous technique, talent to rival Gojo Satoru, praised and cursed from the cradle.
Since that wasn't an option, he would accept reality and squeeze every last drop from the advantages he did have.
[Yaga-sensei.]
[You don't need to understand where I stand. I will never be on the enemy's side.]
Alone in the dorm, Akiya set his worries aside.
He took off the pristine uniform, changed into comfortable old clothes, pulled out the provided cleaning cloth and broom, and scrubbed his new home until it gleamed.
Lunch was instant noodles made with mountain-spring water boiled in the electric kettle.
By afternoon the two bursting suitcases were finally empty.
Personal touches—books, a small rice cooker, a single potted cactus—turned the room into his.
"Asou Akiya's new home—complete."
He stretched his tired arms overhead with a satisfied yawn.
His phone buzzed.
He read the message, dashed out without even changing shoes—and stopped dead.
At the corridor entrance to the corridor stood a brand-new bicycle: front basket perfect for groceries, U-lock dangling from the handlebars, key already in the keyhole.
The man who had quietly provided it for free was nowhere to be seen.
Seeing no one, Asou Akiya raised a brow, then cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted with pure, unfiltered enthusiasm:
"Sensei! You shouldn't have spent money on me! Tomorrow I'm treating you to dinner!"
A straight pitch was the strongest attack.
Far down the mountain path, Yaga Masamichi—who had been hurrying away with a stomach full of complicated feelings—heard the boy's voice echo through the trees.
All his sullenness vanished. The forest breeze suddenly felt refreshing.
After so many years, he had finally met a sorcerer student who truly respected his teacher.
The joy of being an educator…
he felt it at last.
—
Author's Note:
Akiya's campus life is about to begin!
Age chart based on March 2005 timeline:
Asou Akiya – 15
Gojo Satoru – 15 (clan background)
Geto Suguru – 15
Ieiri Shoko – 15
Seniors:
Iori Utahime – 18
Mei Mei – 17 (clan background)