Second update of the day, let's go! Oh btw, from now on I will be updating on 08:00 and 20:00 (GMT+9).
So yeah, that will be the upload schedule from this point forward.
Anyway, enjoy the chapter!
{{>-o}}——{{ovo}}
April 1, 2005
A day that carried special meaning for the entire world.
To pranksters it was April Fool's Day; to students it was the first day of the spring term.
4:30 a.m.
Asou Akiya rose before the sun, folded his futon with crisp corners, and drew back the curtains. He greeted the still-dark world with a bright, earnest "Good morning." After washing up, he rolled up the sleeves of his loungewear in front of the mirror. Both wrists were wrapped in white athletic tape; far from looking sickly, they resembled the protective gear of a dedicated athlete.
4:50 a.m.
In the small open kitchen he rinsed rice, fried savory youtiao, and simmered sweet rice porridge: a full Chinese breakfast. Cooking smoke curled up the exhaust pipe of the Japanese-style dorm, lending the shadowed mountain forest a faint trace of human life.
5:25 a.m.
Carrying a bucket of water and wearing rubber gloves, Akiya stood at the dormitory entrance, ready to wipe down door frames, handles, and electric meter boxes for himself and his two male classmates: anywhere dust liked to settle.
6:08 a.m.
He waved cheerfully at Geto Suguru, who had just opened his door, still half-asleep, and went back to scrubbing with single-minded focus.
6:11 a.m.
Suguru pulled on gloves and silently joined the cleaning squad.
6:30 a.m.
The glass windows along the boys' dormitory corridor gleamed. A small army of Grade 3 cursed spirits (each uglier and more bizarre than the last) floated nearby, lending their stubby, translucent hands.
6:50 a.m.
Akiya peeled off his gloves and, in two blind spots no one would notice, left deliberate fingerprints.
6:52 a.m.
Cleaning complete.
7:10 a.m.
Suguru slung his bag over one shoulder, prepared to wait. Morning light poured in from both ends of the hallway, draping his tall frame in gold. Broad shoulders, long legs, lantern-style uniform pants: he looked like a runway model who had wandered into a prestigious academy.
7:25 a.m.
Akiya finally ambled out, freshly showered, toweling his damp hair. He had no intention of arriving at class too early.
7:26 a.m.
Suguru stared at him in silence for exactly one minute. Deciding they still had time, he turned on his heel without a word and marched straight back inside.
7:46 a.m.
Both dorm rooms stood wide open for ventilation, especially the bathrooms. Suguru leaned in his doorway, blow-drying his long hair and sighing over the upkeep.
7:50 a.m.
Akiya diagnosed Suguru's hair as mixed oily-dry, warned that constant topknots would lead to thinning, and pressed a bottle of fragrance-free hair oil into his hand. They exchanged hair-care tips and launched into a serious discussion about April mosquitoes. Conclusion: low-grade cursed spirits were useless as bug repellents; only Grade 1 or Special Grade spirits could do the job properly.
7:58 a.m.
They were officially about to be late.
7:59 a.m.
In the classroom, Ieri Shoko sat alone, beginning to suspect she might be the antisocial one.
8:00 a.m.
Yaga Masamichi shoved the door open, took one look inside, stepped back out to double-check the room number, then stormed in again.
"Why is there only one of you?!"
The first-year homeroom teacher distinctly remembered notifying every single student.
To! Day! Is! The! First! Day! Of! School!
Shoko lifted her gaze and offered her apoplectic teacher three full seconds of sympathy (no more than that; a sorcerer had to ration negative emotions and remain psychologically stable). Her fingers danced across the keypad of her brand-new flip phone; new messages kept popping up.
"Asou and Geto are sprinting here right now. They'll arrive any second."
Yaga Masamichi: "…"
Yaga Masamichi stormed out of the classroom, already dialing the Gojo estate with barely-contained fury.
Ieri Shoko pricked up her ears. Through the wall she could just make out Yaga's booming baritone: words like "Shinkansen," "traffic jam," "when exactly will he arrive," the whole incredulous litany of a teacher faced with a chronically late student.
[Jujutsu High Melon-Eating Duo]
[Ieri Shoko: Relax, you two won't be the last ones in.]
[Asou Akiya: Did Gojo-san really get stuck in traffic?]
[Ieri Shoko: Bingo. Congrats to the young master of the Gojo house for refusing his private car "to experience commoner life" and timing it perfectly for Tokyo's worst morning rush hour.]
[Asou Akiya: We're here!]
[Asou Akiya: Geto-kun says he just spotted Yaga-sensei raging outside and is feeling very conflicted right now.]
The class's sole girl stood up and peered out the window. Sure enough, two sneaky figures were creeping along the wall like guilty cats.
"Ouch!"
"That hurts!"
Predictably, both boys were immediately sanctioned by Yaga-sensei's iron fists.
Asou Akiya and Geto Suguru entered the classroom sporting identical lumps the size of eggs on their heads, faces calm and composed, as if the moment of impact had never distorted their features at all. They hadn't even chosen seats yet when Suguru's composure cracked. He stared, dumbfounded, as Akiya calmly pulled a medical ice pack from his bag, cracked the inner pouch, and pressed it against the swelling.
Suguru's voice floated out like a ghost. "Is this… standard first-day-of-school equipment?"
Akiya answered matter-of-factly, "My pain tolerance isn't maxed out yet. Minor injuries can't be healed, so Nitoko recommended ice packs."
He dipped his head toward Ieri Shoko in sincere gratitude.
"Better safe than sorry."
Being prepared for everything was simply a good habit.
Suguru choked on air. In all his ordinary days up to now, he had never once met someone quite like Asou Akiya.
"Asou-kun, you're sitting next to Nitoko?" Suguru noticed the seat Akiya had claimed and promptly took the one to Akiya's immediate left, leaving the very first seat on the left side open for their fourth classmate.
Akiya declared with perfect confidence, "We can't just leave an empty seat. Ieri-san would feel lonely."
Shoko propped her cheek on her hand. "Do you think you're the handsomest one here or something?"
Once she explained the earlier bet over seating, Suguru's eyes lit up with interest. "I don't believe I'm any less qualified than Asou-kun. Ieri-san, care to pick again?"
Shoko looked him up and down. Suguru offered a polite, dazzling smile—like a fox happily wagging its tail.
Shoko sighed. "Don't put me in a tough spot. Why don't you two just fight it out?"
Akiya's smile was half-amused, half-resigned. "Geto-kun, great beauty, I surrender. Why don't you sit beside Ieri-san?"
Suguru was the type of high-school boy who was impeccably courteous to girls yet instinctively kept his distance; deep down he preferred roughhousing with the guys and had no desire to crowd a girl's space. He immediately raised both hands in surrender. "No need, no need! I'll stay right here on Asou-kun's left. If the new classmate turns out difficult, I'll take the pressure for both of you."
With that single sentence he quietly drew a circle, placing Asou Akiya and Ieri Shoko firmly inside his inner circle.
None of the three came from sorcerer clans.
Someone had just been excluded.
The new classmate was guaranteed to cause a scene; there was no question about it. Asou Akiya's smile carried a knowing depth when he said, "Then I'll thank you both in advance."
Geto Suguru blinked. Both? Shouldn't the thanks be directed only at him?
Ieri Shoko filed the phrasing away, an uneasy premonition settling in her stomach. Was she about to get dragged into something troublesome?
Akiya slid his bag into the desk drawer, set out his notebook and ballpoint pen, and switched his phone to airplane mode (no distractions allowed). The other two copied the motion without thinking.
Yet Suguru casually tossed out, "Asou-kun, Yaga-sensei is still on the phone. Do you know anything about this guy who hasn't shown up on the very first day of school?"
Akiya's eyelids drooped lazily; the curve of his mouth betrayed unmistakable good humor. "Never met him."
Shoko had heard whispers about the "Six Eyes," but since no one asked, she saw no reason to volunteer the information to Suguru.
There was a reason she clicked with Akiya and kept Suguru at a polite arm's length.
When it came to the jujutsu world, she had never been naive enough to believe everyone stood on equal ground.
The first period dragged on half-empty. One seat remained conspicuously vacant. When Yaga Masamichi finally strode back in, embarrassment flickered across his stern face. Fortunately, his ever-considerate student raised a hand and, as always, broke the tension with perfect timing.
"Yaga-sensei, we're all very curious about our new classmate. Could you give us a little introduction in advance?"
Yaga's brows knitted reflexively; irritation still simmered beneath the surface. Then he remembered that any display of temper would only reflect badly on Gojo Satoru, and forced his expression smooth.
"Gojo Satoru, young head of the Gojo clan (one of the Three Great Families)."
"That's all I can tell you. He's strong. Headquarters issued him a Grade 1 sorcerer certification straight out of the gate."
"Everything else… wait for his own introduction. It's not my place to speak for him."
A handful of sentences, nothing more.
Akiya and Shoko remained unmoved. Only Suguru's pupils contracted sharply as he began measuring the distance between himself and Gojo Satoru.
He was Grade 2, thanks to the sheer number of Grade 2 cursed spirits he had swallowed. Grade 1 spirits were rare; their locations had to be divined by the "window," then a mission dispatched by Headquarters. Still, he had already absorbed over three hundred spirits. With sheer numbers he was confident he could overwhelm a Grade 1 eventually. It was only a matter of time.
The gap didn't feel insurmountable. His competitive fire quieted, satisfied.
Yet the moment the boy with the topknot turned his head, every trace of that easy relaxation vanished.
He found his seatmate watching him quietly, sometime unbeknownst.
There was no malice in Akiya's gaze (only pure, detached observation), like cool spring wind brushing across skin, carrying just enough hidden chill to raise gooseflesh.
Suguru's arms prickled.
For no reason at all, strange and unbidden, he remembered their very first night at the school.
Two sentences Akiya had spoken then came drifting back.
"Geto-kun, I'm heading back to read YuYu Hakusho."
"The mountain forest at night is eerie, the watchtower creepy, the insects loud enough to fray the nerves. When you're out admiring the view alone, don't catch a chill."
Read manga? There wasn't a single volume on Akiya's bookshelf.
Mountain forest, watchtower, insect chorus… those weren't random details. They were veiled references to something here at Tokyo Jujutsu High.
That transparent, inescapable, ruthlessly rational gaze; Suguru had never encountered its equal in his entire life.
[He was not afraid.
He was simply, profoundly fascinated.
Asou… you saw right through me. Do you approve of my strength?]
Geto Suguru's thoughts rose and fell like restless waves, tinged with a sudden, burning shame: as if a classmate had stripped away the childish bravado he wore like armor.
Ever since the day he realized he was the natural predator of cursed spirits, his pride had swollen with every swallowed wraith. He had begun to believe no ordinary person could ever understand him, that even his own family lived on the far side of an unbridgeable gulf. Then Asou Akiya appeared: someone he could finally talk to, a kindred spirit. The distance between them felt erratic (one careless step and "classmate" might harden into "mere acquaintance"), yet the simple joy of being understood was undeniably real.
It had been a very long time since anyone had truly acknowledged him.
Asou Akiya was different. He dropped veiled warnings about the shadows lurking in the jujutsu world. He guided his friends toward understanding the reversed cursed technique.
In this moment, Suguru unilaterally declared the boy his friend, never imagining he would meet that same piercing gaze a second time within the same day.
Next to him, the subject of all that uneasy speculation was thinking nothing of the sort. Akiya observed Suguru the way one might watch an interesting experiment unfold: out of pure curiosity.
When the gap is vast enough to beggar belief, ordinary mortals do not even dream of catching up. Akiya's heart remained perfectly calm. The instant he heard "Grade 1 sorcerer," he knew Suguru's pride had been pricked. Anyone who had never witnessed Gojo Satoru in action would always underestimate him, convinced that effort alone could surpass a genius the Gojo clan had poured every resource into forging. They would recklessly elevate themselves to a height so rarefied that despair became inevitable.
This was the tragic beginning of Geto Suguru's path.
A freshly enrolled Suguru only had martial arts, boxing, and his Cursed Spirit Manipulation.
Gojo Satoru was poor at close-quarters combat, yet everything came to him with insulting ease; he had almost no true weaknesses. From infancy he had wielded the Six Eyes, Limitless, Blue, short-range teleportation, barrier techniques, the Three Great Families' secret Falling Blossom Emotion, and the modern Kyoto school's New Shadow Style Simple Domain…
At fifteen, Gojo Satoru stood one slender step away from special-grade without ever relying on swallowed spirits.
Below special-grade, the strongest problem child alive.
…
The first period ended with Yaga Masamichi's broad lecture on the jujutsu world. During the ten-minute break, Akiya asked his two companions what they wanted to drink and walked alone to the vending machine outside the building.
He had spent a long time considering what attitude to take toward Gojo Satoru once the boy finally arrived.
The answer was simple: treat Gojo Satoru as a limited-time event character.
I gotta be in my peak performance in my first encounter with him.
The canon had always said it plainly: Gojo Satoru was strongest when he was alone.
Therefore, Gojo Satoru was also smartest the instant the Six Eyes delivered their opening salvo.
In a single heartbeat, the torrent of information that crashed into his brain far exceeded anything Edogawa Ranpo of the Armed Detective Agency could read from a crime scene. It was a diluted Infinity, the absolute limit a human mind could endure in one burst.
Omnivision implied omniscience; omniscience implied omnipotence.
In truth the Six Eyes were not that terrifying. If they were, the entire jujutsu world would have banded together long ago to exterminate the Gojo clan before a king of sorcery could be born. Besides, Gojo Satoru's blunt, conspiracy-hating personality further blunted the danger. But if the Gojo family had ever enrolled him in a single psychology course, the higher-ups would have trembled in their robes. Even Akiya would have turned meek as a mouse, fleeing the jujutsu world entirely, terrified that some stray impolite thought might be read straight off his micro-expressions.
"Geto likes coffee, Ieri hates sweet stuff… I'll take cola."
Akiya fed coins into the machine and pressed the button.
"Good thing it's not refrigerated; otherwise I'd have to worry about an upset stomach."
He started back, eyes drifting idly across the campus as though waiting for something. Three cans were stacked precariously in one hand. Triangles are the most stable structure, he mused. Once Gojo Satoru arrives, I should be able to stay on the periphery, study in peace, and occasionally watch the chaos the three of them kick up.
After all, given the background he had assigned himself, Gojo Satoru would not be particularly friendly toward him in the early days.
That was fine. Safety first.
He would be a classmate to observe from a careful distance, to cherish in his own quiet way, but never on equal footing.
Gojo Satoru is not some exclusive treasure that belonged to him alone.
[Life Goal, Step Four: Graduate as a Grade 2 sorcerer.]
While walking along the creaking, aged hallway of the teaching building, Asou Akiya quietly finalized the rest of his life plan: individual strength first, personal sentiment second. Survive until graduation. Stretch the three years of youth he liked into five if possible.
His foot pressed down on the old, half-rotted floorboards and he wondered, absently, how something so decayed could still hold for so long.
Even thirteen years from now, it still hadn't collapsed…
He kept his gaze fixed on the future ahead, content to watch the story unfold from the sidelines, when a voice (alien yet intimately familiar) rang out behind him.
"Oi."
The tone of a superior addressing an inferior: cool, clipped, devoid of warmth.
Not lively. Not idiotic. Utterly unlike the blindfolded teacher he would one day become.
Yet without any command, Akiya's feet froze to the floorboards as though nailed there. He poured every ounce of willpower into locking his expression.
No giveaway!
He was about to be examined from every angle by the Six Eyes!
Erase the plot from your mind. Remember your cover. You are a "study companion" planted by the Gojo family! Act the part!
Don't panic. Just treat this like running into fifteen-year-old Edogawa Ranpo!
"You my classmate?"
Behind him.
In the blind spot of normal vision, cursed-energy perception screamed the presence of someone whose very existence burned like a bonfire.
That person was staring at his back, clearly baffled as to why he hadn't turned around yet.
Heartbeat accelerating. Blood rushing. Body temperature spiking.
Every physiological tell laid bare beneath the Six Eyes.
[Steady your breathing. He won't understand. A divine child can't comprehend mortal panic.]
After what felt like an eternity, the self-hypnosis took hold.
Akiya turned with a perfectly friendly, perfectly harmless smile to greet the fourth first-year student.
Hair of flawless, untouched white filled his vision.
Like the scent of the first snow.
Gojo Satoru looked exactly as Asou Akiya had pictured him, yet somehow even more startlingly real.
Snow-white hair, porcelain skin, a slender, elongated frame draped in the same black uniform, the golden swirl buttons glinting at his chest. Taller than even Geto Suguru, the contours of his face still soft with lingering boyishness. The eyes that should have held the brilliance of the open sky were hidden behind dark sunglasses, but the scowl that peeked out beneath them was achingly genuine: the sullen irritation of someone who had just survived Tokyo's morning rush hour.
Akiya, who had been steeling himself to face the final boss of the scriptwriters, stared for a single stunned heartbeat, then let out an involuntary, delighted laugh.
What the heck.
There was no way anyone could treat this version with solemn gravity.
This was Gojo Satoru.
The youthful edition of the man whose mature, breathtaking smile he had once risked everything to protect. The very person whose story he had joined just to stand beside during these fleeting high-school years.
Akiya's soul pressed close against the invisible barrier of his body. He opened his eyes wide and drank in this once-in-a-lifetime first meeting. Crimson cursed energy flared with his rising emotions, leaping into bright, joyful flames. He offered himself openly, without reservation, letting the Six Eyes etch him permanently into their owner's subconscious, never to be forgotten.
"Nice to meet you, Gojo-kun, who got lost on the road of life. Welcome to Tokyo Jujutsu High."
A classic Naruto reference, delivered deadpan.
…
Hello, future Teacher Gojo who will ditch class at the drop of a hat.
Because you treasure youth so fiercely, every second of my life has been given extraordinary meaning.